Mirai grumbled to herself as she trudged up the road. Tired, out of temper and badly in need of a bath, she looked up at the sky for the tenth time to check the position of the sun. The light was fading faster than she had anticipated and the tall evergreens lining the distant hills did nothing to help matters. The sun had already disappeared behind them and twilight was quickly creeping over the world.

    Curse the south and its early evenings!

    She clenched her jaw, shoved filthy auburn hair out of her eyes and picked up her pace.

    To her relief Kivroon came into view just as the last light was spent for the day. She could see the lights of the temple flickering, welcoming travelers to the last stop before the capital. She stamped down the old apprehension in the pit of her stomach and forced herself to smile. It really was good to be home again. How long had it been? Ten years? Twelve? She couldn't rightly remember any more. 

    Low stone walls grew on either side of the road as she walked, marking the beginnings of those farms close to the town. Kivroon was not big, but it was an important crossroads that catered to travelers of all kinds. Brendalyn, capital city of Bravanthal, was only a day and half brisk walk north from here which made it conveniently close, but also reasonably far enough away that the townspeople of Kivroon could maintain their own community. A cheerful and bustling place, rich farmlands on one side, thick forest and the Encircling Sea on the other.

    It was also the traditional home of the Path of Peace for all of Bravanthal...

    She gave herself a shake, determined not to think on that just yet. For now she wanted only a room, a bath, a good cup of ale and, for once, a soft bed to sleep in. Thus thinking, she smiled again when she saw the lighted sign for the Wandering Rose. The smallest inn that Kivroon offered, it had been an old favorite haunt during her childhood. She made for it without hesitation, wondering if Odd Dox would still be lording over the place from his perch atop that silly stool of his. 

    The Shade hit her and crashed around her like a great wave. She stumbled backward, tripped over her own feet and fell to the ground in a heap. Instinctively she drew on the Fabra. Lines of Penance sprung to life up her neck as she lurched to her feet again and cast around, looking for a fight. 

    The night was still. Sounds of merriment floated to her from the Wandering Rose, men's laughter and the chiming voices of women all relaxing after the hot day. Nothing moved outside, but the Shade of Death hung over the road, a deeper shadow than the night. She cursed herself for being careless, and for startling so easily. Shades were not dangerous, but they would surprise any maeji who'd had even a small amount of training if they weren't paying attention. Still, she should have known better than to think the corruption would not have reached this far.

    Sisters blind me, she thought with a sigh. Giving the Wandering Rose one last look, she ducked into the Shade and made her way toward the temple instead. So much for a proper night's sleep.

    The temple square was a chaos of horses and men and frantic healers darting between them. Torches blazed all through the square and some where still bursting to life in places, of their own accord, meaning this party to be a recent arrival. Mirai paused at the edge of the light to take it in. She estimated four hundred or so men. Many wounded. All wearing the dark blue of the royal force. She counted thirty horses, all in a panic. Soldiers tried to restrain them, but the efforts were piecemeal as they themselves stared wide eyed into the darkness, glancing about, jumping at sounds... and staring at their comrades bleeding to death on the ground. 

    Mirai rushed to the nearest wounded soldier. He lay moaning and gibbering on the flagstone, his head resting on the lap of a healer Mirai did not recognize. The healer's eyes were clenched shut in concentration, her hands resting over the nasty gash across the man's chest. Lines of Penance snaked up her bare arms, dangerously dark gold.

    Mirai knelt and placed her own gloved hands over the healer's. The girl, she could not have been more than thirteen, gasped in relief and opened her eyes. The Lines of Penance faded away and Mirai was relieved to see they'd left no scars.

    "I'll take care of him," Mirai said to the girl, "I need to you find Brother Joss quick as you can and tell him the healers must work in pairs. Single healers risk burning if they attempt to heal these wounds alone... hey!"

    The girl jumped, causing the man's head to bounce on her knees, "Yes... yes! I... who are you?"

    "Mirai Moridan," she replied, "Go, quickly! Before you lot start hurting yourselves!"

    The girl laid the soldier's head gently to the flagstone then bolted for the temple's wide doors. 

    Careful to keep the Lines from showing above the collar of her dress, Mirai forced her will toward the gash. Just like the others... she thought with dismay. She poured her strength toward it, forced the Fabra into the wound in a pattern that spread it through the man's chest like a net. Yet it would not heal. The wound channeled the energy like a cup with a hole drilled in the bottom. More, she urged, and then the searing pain of new scarring lanced up her back. A familiar pain, but it still caused her body to jerk involuntarily. She gritted her teeth and blanked out everything but her work.

    The wound started to close at the edges. Slowly. Unnaturally slowly.  Ages it seemed to take. She felt the slowing of time physically, as if the air were suddenly much thicker than it should be. This, too, was normal and indication that she would not be able to heal anyone else without help. That she should not even be trying now. A thin line to walk, crossed only if a maeji wanted to die. Or if she did not know her limits.

    Some time later she gasped for air and slouched where she sat next to the now sleeping soldier. His breathing came slow, but deep and even. The world came back to her in stages. First was sensation: the feeling of stone beneath her, the stinging pain on her back and the wetness she knew to be blood, the soreness in her throat and the sweat sneaking down her cheeks. Next was hearing: soft moaning, muffled talking somewhere nearby, a girl's whimpering and the crackle of torches. Finally, sight: her legs crossed, stalkings and boots filthy from long travel and stained further with blood, the gaunt face of a sleeping man in blue with bare chest sporting a scar that should not be there, She looked up, across the sleeping body, into the kindly, smiling face of an aging man in a gray robe with slightly sagging cheeks and a thin layer of white hair on his head.

    "Brother Joss," Mirai croaked, "It's been a long time."

    "You overstepped yourself, Sister," Brother Joss replied, smile fading, "You send a girl running, tell me to pair up my healers or risk injury to them, then decide not to follow your own advice."

    A wry smile spread across her face, "Well," she said, "I've done it before. You didn't lose anyone I hope."

    Brother Joss stood with a sigh and rounded the solder to help her to her feet. He said, "two girls will be bed-ridden for a couple of days, but there were no serious injuries, thank the Sisters. I think we are very lucky indeed that you just happened to be in town. Coincidental, don't you think?"

    Mirai didn't reply right away, having realized with a foggy start that she really had been far too careless. She looked around carefully and the world spun with a sickening lurch. At her side Brother Joss tsked in irritation and said, "That should be three girls bed-ridden for a couple of days, though I know you won't have it. Sister's blind you, Moridan, you're as headstrong and stupid as ever!" 

    "You have no idea," she answered, sounding almost drunk. Brother Joss led her into the temple and ordered her to sit quietly until she regained her composure. A couple other Sisters sat as well, nodding off from exhaustion or swaying where they sat. 

    The dizziness never lasted long and soon she was able to stand and walk around. She went to the great door of the temple and looked out. 

    The first light of day was just peeking over the forest to the south. She was too tired to be surprised, but reprimanded herself. So much time and energy and she'd saved only one life! Burn me blind, she thought, you're an idiot Mirai! She cursed under her breath and hobbled down the front steps to walk among the survivors. 

    She learned from one of the healers that one hundred and twelve men had been wounded, and of that twenty-three of them had died. Those who had been healed all slept in the same manner. They would sleep for days as though in coma. Sunrise had also brought townspeople into the temple square and word was spreading that something awful had happened in the night. Many had gathered to stare and shout questions. Mirai noted a man in a captain's uniform. Why did he look so familiar? He spoke briefly with those townspeople who managed to grab his attention, but otherwise moved with a grim, purposeful stride and a furrowed brow. Tall, broad shouldered, skin of tanned complexion and black, neatly cropped hair.

    He looks like a Montressa, Mirai thought, though she did not know if that were possible. A mere scout's captain could not be a member of the royal family, could he? 

    Thoughts of the captain were driven from her mind then as she was embraced in the full bodied hug of a tall woman with brown hair wearing the traditional uniform of the Path of Peace. A moment of astonishment was quickly replaced with joy

    "Livy!" Mirai exclaimed, "Haha! I thought you would have been out on pilgrimage by now!" She embraced her old friend enthusiastically as the older woman laughed and held her out at arms length,

    "You smell like a stall, friend," Livy said jovially, "And look worse. I'm glad to see you! I heard it was you who saved many of the girls this night. We would have been in chaos I think, otherwise."

    Mirai's smile faded along with her friend's. She said, "I won't think too much on coincidence right now, but I'm glad I could be of help. It concerns me, however..." she trailed off, thinking.

    "Concerns you why?" Livy asked, "Have you seen something similar in your travels?

    Mirai nodded, "But only in the deep south. It's like a plague of some kind, but I did not think it had grown beyond the southern coastlines of Kirshin. It worries me to see the same thing this far north."

    Livy's brow furrowed, "Have you spoken to Brother Joss about this?" 

    Mirai shook her head, "There was no time. I overdid it a bit and needed to rest for a while." She looked over the prostrate bodies of soldiers lying on the flagstone around them. They were being tended now by their own comrades and those who had survived would make a full recovery. It meant the scouting party would remain in Kivroon for several days, but it was a small price to pay for the lives saved.

    "Have you heard of anything like this before?" she asked Livy then, "Any rumors? Strange disappearances? Have the farmers from the outskirts told any stories?"

    Livy shook her head, "Not that I can recall. I don't spend time in the usual places any more, though. It could be that I am just out of the circles that share that sort of thing. We can ask Josette when she has a free moment."

    "Josette?" Mirai asked, "I don't know the name."

    Livy smiled, "You wouldn't. She was sent to us about three years ago. By then you'd already been through Lya on your way north, I'm sure. She's my apprentice."

    Mirai started with a visible jerk. She turned to look at her old friend in utter surprise, "Your apprentice?"

    Livy turned them back toward the temple with only a small smile on her face. She said nothing and Mirai had to prompt her again.

    "Livy!"

    "I know," Livy replied, "I know... I almost got away with it, but Brother Joss told me if I didn't take an apprentice he would demote me and I couldn't have that. I need the authority being a Second gives me, you know that as well as I."

    Mirai nodded and said no more as they walked slowly up the stairs. Livy had an apprentice. Before Mirai left Kvroon, such a thing would have been utterly appalling to her. They'd made a promise to each other that they would neither of them take apprentices. Doing so was to be shackled to the temple, to the Guild of the Owl, forever. Anyone who took an apprentice had their names entered in the Guild's official registrar as a leader for one's specific Path. True, Livy had reached Second without doing so, but she'd been a prodigy. A special case. Now it seemed like the Guild wasn't willing to overlook tradition for the sake of sheer talent. Too bad. Second was the highest rank one could reach without a visit to Illandrius.

    "Damn..." Mirai muttered.

    "Don't think too harshly of Brother Joss," Livy said gently, "It really hasn't been that bad. Yes, I have to report to the Ardentium now, but... honestly, Mirai, I'm happy to be training Josette."

    They stepped through the main doors together and made their way slowly down the nave toward the chapel. Mirai really looked around this time, taking in the old familiar sights. Nothing had changed. The pews stood to either side facing the path down which they now walked. Ahead of them the statues, more art in form than human-like and representing the many Paths, faced them, with the one representing the Path of Peace at the forefront. While having a vaguely human figure, the white stone of the Peace sculpture was more a study in swirling, cloth-like undulations. A dark green stone mounted at its center was a depiction of the Crest of Peace. 

    "They'll keep you here forever, Liv, you know that," Mirai finally said, "Taking an apprentice has always been their favorite method of tying people down, shackling them to the Path. They'll never let you leave Kivroon now." She could hear the sadness in her own voice.

    Livy laughed quietly. She replied, "Yet, and you know this too, I never wanted to leave. I can't abide travel, a hate the cities, and I have no desire to scour the country-side for months looking for those who need saving. I have always done my best work here. I never wanted it any other way..."

    Mirai glanced sideways at the tall figure of her friend. She'd said the last sentence with a strange air of gravity and Mirai narrowed her eyes, "What happened?"

    Livy laughed, "Can't hide anything from you, can I? Brother Joss got word from the capital just three days ago that Hrimdall has died. Old age, you know. He was ancient even when you and I were little. But the crown has petitioned for a new healer. The queen herself wrote a personal letter begging only the best be sent to the palace.  Something about the weak constitution of the crowned prince or something. I guess he's always been rather sickly."

    Mirai snorted, "Prince Stefan is a pampered, spoiled, ninnyhammer of a boy whose mother has lost too many children to still birth."

    "Mirai!"

    "It's true!" Mirai countered, "Have you ever seen the boy, Liv? He's right as rain and healthy as they come, but the queen is never more than ten feet from him at all times. He's never had to do a thing for himself and plays at having a weak constitution to get whatever he wants."

    "Perhaps, but really, Mirai!" Livy scolded, "The queen has miscarried or borne stills five times. Can you really blame her for being protective of the only one of her children to survive to adult-hood?"

    Through the left trancept they moved out into a wide corridor with evenly space doors on one side and pillars on the other. Beyond the pillars spread a simple garden, another statue of Peace adorning the center of a simple fountain full of water flowers and tiny blue fish. They were heading toward Brother Joss's apartments.

    "I suppose not, but even still," Mirai said, "You could not have possibly agreed to taking Hrimdall's place." 

    "I didn't have a choice," Livy replied.

    "How so?"

    Livy sighed, hesitating, but said, "The Ardentium had turned a blind eye toward me until now. They are no longer pleased, since my being forced to take an apprentice, with the relative... 'mediocrity' they called it... with which I have thus far employed my significant skill. Brother Joss would have sent someone else. Unfortunately, the Queen did not actually petition Kivroon directly..."

    "Oh, blood and fire!"

    "Mirai, please! Sister's help me... where did you learn to curse?" 

    Mirai stopped abruptly and turned to face her friend, "By the Sisters, Olivia! I told you this would happen! You take an apprentice, the Ardentium has you, only now they've taken personal interest in your deployment? I should have dragged you off with me to Lya no matter your protesting. It would have been better than this."

    "And what has gallivanting all over the Inner Kingdoms done for you, Mirai?" Livy shot back. Not angry, but stern, which was harsh coming from her, "You show up here after ten years looking like you've been dragged through the Pit, on the heels of a nightmarish night, nearly kill yourself because you haven't learned your lesson, and expect that it will all be just the same. Carrying bow and arrows on your back, over all else. I did not choose this, but at least I have not lost the Path entirely."

    Mirai took a step back, shocked. 

    Livy put hands to hips and visibly forced herself back to calm, "I should not have said that last. I know you do what you do because you truly believe Peace has chosen it for you. I know that. But many others do not. The council spent several months after you disappeared trying to get Brother Joss to sever you. They pressured Pathlessness for a while. It really was awful."

    Pathlessness...

    Mirai's hand instinctively went to her heart as though she needed to protect herself. Never would she have imagined her leaving to have caused that kind of ripple through the council. They had no authority to take action... that power, thank the Sisters... still belonged only to Brother Joss, but they had a kind of leverage that could normally break down the one they were meant to advise. For Brother Joss to successfully stand against a plea of Pathlessness...

    "How did he manage it?" Mirai asked out loud.

    Livy smiled sadly and took Mirai's arm in her own. The began walking again and Livy said, "He called upon Hrimdall a couple months after you left. He used to be a member of the Ardentium apparently and he was able to force a silence on the council regarding the matter. I don't know the details, but I think it was probably not a pleasant situation for Brother Joss to be in."

    "I... should probably thank him," Mirai muttered.

    Livy nodded, "Yes, you should. And properly."

    They walked in silence for a time after that, curving around the garden and beyond, into the complex that housed most of the devout. The temple housed some hundred or so walkers of Peace at any one time, though most were out of the complex now that full day had dawned. Mirai had thought things would somehow have changed, the way flowers or trees grow over time. She thought she should see some difference, but everything was exactly as she remembered it, down to the patterns of the planted flowers in the garden. A surreal contrast to being constantly on the road and in a new place almost every night for the last ten years. 

    Brother Joss's quarters sat at the end of the housing complex. Livy knocked lightly on the door when they arrived and they entered at his word. Livy dropped Mirai's arm and they seated themselves in the simple wooden chairs facing Brother Joss's desk, just as they always had. 

    He commanded larger apartments than the rest of the devout living in the temple, but they remained as simply furnished as all the others. He had to himself two large rooms, one his bedroom and bath chamber, the other lined with shelves full of books and scrolls with a large blackwood desk stationed in the exact center of the room from which he could receive callers. 

    They waited patiently while he stood at the far end of the room looking over the titles of books neatly arranged on a shelf. Mirai smiled at the strange familiarity of it all. He was exactly the same. The room was the same, the feeling the same. Memories of the times she and Livy had gotten themselves in trouble flooded her mind, They'd sit exactly as they were now and remain silent until Brother Joss remembered they were there. Even a peep, a single whisper, was cause for an upbraiding she still hoped never to experience again. And so they both remained quiet and patient. 

    "So. Mirai," Brother Joss piped eventually from a corner of the room where he stood pouring over a map, "Quite aside from the fiasco last night, you were already on your way into town, is that right?"

    "It is," Mirai answered with respect. 

    "Why now, after so long?" asked Brother Joss.

    "I am actually just passed through. I am going to the capital to make use of the royal library."

    "What for?"

    Mirai hesitated. She'd never told anyone, not even Livy, her true reasons for leaving, nor why she felt it to be so important. The truth of it was, she didn't really know herself. When she thought about it too hard it really did seem ridiculous to be running all over the civilized world looking for a dusty only text...

    "I... I am looking for a story."

    Brother Joss turned to look at her then. "...A story." It was not a question.

    "Yes."

    An awkward silence followed in which Mirai refused to say more.

    "You're going to have to give me more than that Mirai," Brother Joss finally said into the silence, "I am guessing Olivia told you of what happened after you left. I should not have to tell you again how serious the situation will become now that you've come back, I have no more favors to call in if the council discovers you have returned to Kivroon, which they undoubtedly will."

    Mirai's mind raced furiously. What could she say without sounding completely cracked? But she could not afford to be severed from the Path. Enduring that would kill her, and if it did not she would be an exile from Bravanthal for the rest of her life. She could not bear the idea of either option. Why on earth did she feel so nervous and guilty? Did all the reminders of her childhood bring back some forgotten timidity? In the end it seemed that the truth, or most of it anyway, was the best path to take.

    Slowly she answered, "It's... more a collection of documents than a story. My... I knew someone, long ago who once spoke of a time when the Rimlands were not so far across the sea as they are now and there was a greater understanding of the world and the Fabra than we currently possess. But thousands of years ago the Calamity widened the sea and destroyed most of the old societies where-"

    "You cannot be serious, Moridan," Brother Joss said flatly. Mirai felt her teeth click together as she snapped her mouth shut. How did this old man still manage to make her feel like a deviant child?

    Brother Joss sighed and came to sit across from them at the desk. He shot Mirai a pointed look, but said nothing for a long, uncomfortable moment. He then murmured, "You're chasing fairy tales, child? You must be joking."

    Mirai's back stiffened at that and the feeling of being cowed faded quickly. She was a woman with wars behind her, thousands of miles traveled and three fluent languages at her disposal. No longer a child to be reprimanded with a tongue-lashing. She leveled a glare across the desk at her old teacher and replied, "I have spent hundreds of hours in libraries and on battlefields in all the time I've been away. I have fought in civil wars trying to track down this information. If you want to sit there and call me a child, then I also want you to remember how very small and isolated your little corner of Bravanthal actually is, Brother."

    Livy gasped and Brother Joss sat back in his chair, wide eyed. Mirai stared him down until he seemed to shrink under her gaze and gestured irritably for her to go on.

    She leaned back herself and continued, "These documents were the last collection of maps, charts, and descriptions of many of the old cities that used to dominate the Inner Kingdoms, but are now lost, buried or destroyed. No one knows for certain what happened to them, but there are... scraps... of information in other ancient texts that talk of a connection between these old cities and what happened curing the Calamity. There are also hints, from what little I have been able to find, that this collection may also contain useful information that can help stop a repeat event."

    "A repeat event?" Brother Joss asked. His voice was even, covering a tightly controlled yet very thin patience.

    Mirai nodded, "During my first pilgrimage to Vata we met an old Lebarniin who had taken to wandering the mountains in the regions to the north. A kindly creature, but fearful of things his people had observed in the stars. A shifting of some kind. He said the stars had somehow been thrown off course, and that nothing good ever came of something like that. He had heard of such a thing, but only from stories his people had told when he was very young. Stories or not, the Stargazers were in an uproar about it. The first night they observed the shift, all but two Lebarniin left Vata for Lebar. I would have thought little of it... Lebarniin tend to be very strange creatures by nature, but the Elves in the city panicked as well, and that's almost never heard of. Elves panicking. You should have seen it."

    "But... if Elves and Lebarniin were to suddenly flee to their own countries at once, why did we not hear of it here?" Livy asked. 

    Mirai shrugged, "My guess would be that Bravanthal is simply too small to be bothered with things like that, and perhaps too far away. Our kingdom is provincial in relation to the rest of the Inner Kingdoms. I'm sure the news has reached here, but villagers either write it off as superstition or simply discount it as lies. Or perhaps you just haven't been paying attention. I don't know."

    "This does not justify your chasing after a... this sort of information, Mirai," Brother Joss said flatly. 

    Mirai shook her head in dismay, "Brother, have you not thought to watch the path of the sun over the last few years? The stars were not the only things affected. Our own sun is shifting in its path. There are also reports of the same thing happening to the Dead Sun in the Rimlands. And the Shai'Radie report sightings of lesser Drakoln descending from the Jagged Realm. Drakoln, Brother!"

    "Fancy, only," Brother Joss answered dismissively. 

    Mirai shook her head, "Well you can tell that to Haes the next time he passes this way."

    "You said they had all fled back to Lebar."

    "I said most of them fled back to Lebar," Mirai corrected, "It may surprise you to learn I am not the only one to have taken an interest in finding this information. Haes is one other, and there are several Elves on the hunt as well. We try to keep in regular contact if we can manage it."

    Brother Joss threw his hands up in a gesture of defeat, "I do not know what you do with you, girl. There's no talking sense to you. You do not hear it."

    Mirai leaned forward and placed her hands palms down on the desk, "Something is happening, Brother. You refuse to see it now, but you will not be able to remain blind for much longer. Balroon is deserted. Whatever happened there is spreading north. You witnessed the first signs of it last night."

    Brother Joss started and Livy said, "What?"

    "The wounds these soldiers sustained," Mirai explained, "Balroon had been asking for aide from the Guild several months ago regarding similar occurrences. People showed up at the temple and healing houses, but when the healers tried to do their work, well... many were burned blind and many more died before they realized they needed to work on the wounded in pairs or more."

    Brother Joss sighed, and seemed ready now to at least entertain Mirai with his full attention, "Alright, the same thing is happening here. What can we expect in the future, according to you... reports."

    Mirai sighed, "After they sent several petitions for aide, contact the with city went dark. People fled the peninsula and left the city abandoned. A few brave souls went to explore, many died, and those who survived told stories of bodies laying in the street with their eyes gouged out of their heads, bodies mangled and broken in ways that made them almost unrecognizable as people. I did not see them myself but have heard the same sorts of stories from several different sources. There's a good bet whatever happened in Balroon is spreading north,"

    Silence followed. Mirai let is hang in the air. She did not want to talk about this any more. Not now. She was drained and again thought of a hot bath and a soft bed.

    "I will need to write a few letters," Brother Joss said absently, "I can't imagine any of it is really true, but I will inquire." He stood, "In the mean time, I suppose there is no harm in being safe. Olivia, please instruct the healers that they are to work in pairs from now on. I don't want them doing any sort of work alone if this is a risk we are going to encounter on a larger scale. Mirai, I want you to accompany Olivia and Josette to the capital when they go. You will leave with the scouting party when they depart,"

    Mirai nodded and Brother Joss relaxed when she offered no argument. Her destination had been the capital anyway, and traveling with others would definitely be a welcome change, though she did not think too highly of soldiers of any caliber.

    As an after thought she asked, "The man in the captain's uniform. Is he related to the Montressas?"

    "I believe so," Brother Joss said, tired, "The second son of a minor branch in the north of the kingdom. His party is a regular in these parts and he's well known in Kivroon. 

    Mirai grimaced as she stood. Just what she needed. A royal blood hound in the same city, and a soldier on top of it. She would bet a handful of Bravanthal lenters that he was pompous as a peacock and twice as big-headed. 

    Brother Joss said as a last, "He means to depart as soon as the soldiers are awake and deemed fit to travel. I told him it should not take more than three or four days. Be ready to leave with them. In the meantime, find an empty room and get yourself cleaned up. You smell truly horrendous."

    Shai'Harud. The Seas of Tulfalan. Tall grasses stretching for miles in all directions. Sarrenna stood stalk still in the eternal twilight staring up at the great tapestry of stars, each like a brilliant jewel winking back at her from an unfathomable distance. Gentle winds danced through the grasses causing the tufted heads of each individual stalk to sway and sigh, countless voices talking toward the sky in a language her people had long ago forgotten how to hear. Like the grasses, she cast her attention to the heavens and the great, round blankness above. The inky black sphere of the Dead Sun blotted out the stars. A great black hole in an otherwise perfect work of art.

    She had been watching it for a long time, had followed it from the edge of the Expanse itself. And here it had stopped. Over the great plains of her homeland the Lost Sister had come to rest, as if unsure whether she should continue this new journey or turn back toward the familiar reaches beyond the edges of the world. Sarrenna had followed, curious, afraid, resolved, and above all, determined. The familiar itch up the back of her scalp caused anticipation to rise within her. Where are you going, Mother? She asked in silence for the hundredth time.

    We cannot stay here much longer, Mau'Rlin whispered into Sarrenna's mind, Your hunters are not far behind. They have our trail.

    Yes, Sarrenna whispered back, I do not think anything will happen here anyway. If She has purpose to this course we will have to return to Her later. I want to visit Dournhald.

    The tiny Drakoln made a rumbling deep in her throat that sounded of assent. She perched comfortably on Sarrenna's right shoulder, long tail wrapped around that arm and claws digging into the thick shoulder pad Sarrenna had made for just such a purpose. Mau'Rlin's sinuous neck arched upward and she shared in the view of the sky with her Ra'Adie companion.

    It would be more beautiful if you could fly into the sky until the earth disappeared beneath you. Mau'Rlin sang idly.

    As you always say, remarked Sarrenna. She moved then, finally breaking her frozen posture to readjust the black hood over her head. Her entire set of clothing was black to hide her from the eyes of those who were hunting her. The hood was most important, as it hid a mass of brilliant orange hair. She stooped to pick up her bow, causing Mau'Rlin to spread her wings and take flight. The Drakoln disappeared into the night as a shadow would in pitch darkness. Whatever magic she used to blend in against the array of stars, Sarrenna wished she had it. How much easier would her life of exile be if she could just fade into nature and pass the world completely hidden? She could walk through Skyvault itself without worry.

    Such was one of the many secrets Sarrenna was determined to glean from her new traveling partner. She could not guess at the reasons a Lesser Drakoln could have for leaving her mountainous homelands, but Sarrenna was immensely grateful for it. 

    She turned and began the long journey north toward Dournhald.

    The city lay deathly quiet. Mid-afternoon light bathed the port in heavy gold as the sun sank toward the horizon. The docks were empty of people. Ships floated untouched and abandoned where they had been moored. Stacked upon themselves up the side of the sea cliffs, the port houses of Balroon watched the ocean, dark and empty. Dead, every one. Even the gulls no longer circled the masts of the trading vessels like they should have. Even the birds knew they would come soon.

    Smidge peered through the tiny space between two rotting boards from his hiding place under one of the buildings that used to be an inn on the boardwalk. He scanned the walk with wide, bloodshot eyes. He rubbed his dirty palms on his eye lids again, but knew it was too dangerous to sleep now. 

    So hungry. Just gotsa eat somethin'. Anything. Gotsa eat anythin'.

    He slunk through the narrow hole that served as his entryway and crawled under the porch of the building until he could get a better view to his left and right down the walk. The light was too wrong, but gods... so hungry. Too dangerous. Too hungry. Just gotsa eat. Maybe he'd have luck higher up. 

    Fearing to blink, he watched the water around the docks as he made his way onto the boardwalk toward the highroad. If he could get up the cliffs and deeper into the city, he might just be okay. The drudger gangs were all gone... at least mostly. Dragged into the sea by them. He thought about how nice food would  be then, refusing to think about what those other boys had suffered. Don't matter no more. More food for me. Dead is dead is always... dead. He shoved the thoughts away again.

    The boardwalk ended where the switchback up the cliffs began. He bolted upward as soon as his bare feet touched muddy rock. Though small, he could run faster than any other drudger, and wriggle out of tight spots better too.

    Maybe that's why he was the only one left now.

    Up the switchbacks he scrambled, passing wooden and stone stairways that led to houses, or narrow walks along the cliffs that led to still more houses cut right back into the rock itself. All dead and dark and silent, some stinking of rotting things he didn't want to look at for risk of sicking up what little he could find to put down. 

    It took only a few minutes for him to reach the top and he sailed up onto flat ground at a dead run. High Market was empty, except for the dead things he pretended weren't there. Holes where their eyes should have... No!... there's nothing there! He ran up and up and up until he flew past the ones that had burned in the fear and the scramble to get away. Black buildings lay hulking beside the street. The dead ones here weren't so bad to think about. Didn't even look real anymore. Just lumps, some big, some small, all burnt. He rushed past them, forgetting, remembering only that the light was too wrong. Don't gots much time. 

    The street grew wide, rough stone turned to smooth flagstone under his slapping feet. Trees behind tall fences and in front of taller houses grew up on either side. The Mist District looked completely untouched. Looked. But Smidge knew better. Dead things with no eyes.. No! Just getsa food. They gots all the food.

    But he kept running, deep as he could go into the Mist District. Maybe they wouldn't come this far. Maybe since everyone was already dead 'cept Smidge, they wouldn't come up here no more. Finally, he found a low wall he liked the look of and jumped up to clamber over and drop into the overgrown grass on the other side. Fruit trees dotted the lawn, but it was out of season and they were bare. He stalked under their branches toward the big house at the back. 

    None of the windows were broken, but it was alright, since no one was in there anyhow. He inched open the front door and peered inside. More out of habit than anything. All dark. Maybe wouldn't be any dead things in this one. Maybe.

    He left the door open. His bare feet made no sound on the carpet of the hall. He knew the carpet alone was worth more than his entire life, but the thought passed quickly. Can'ts eat carpet I don't think. If'n you can, won't taste no good. He turned a corner down a flight of stairs and found the kitchens at the bottom after only a bit of looking through rooms. 

   Food! He darted forward, scooping a quarter loaf of bread off the floor. It was moldy on one side, but he couldn't make himself care like normal. So hungry. He scarfed it down in moments and grabbed up a wrinkled, half-eaten apple he'd spotted while chewing. Crouched like a toad in the near darkness, he'd never felt so happy in his whole life. After the apple went in a few wilted cabbage leaves and a single small swig of pale wine left in a bottle that had toppled. 

    Something thumped overhead. He froze, heart jumping into his throat, stomach suddenly sick. He looked at the ceiling as though willing his eyes to see through the stone. A bit of raw potato fell from his skinny fingers, utterly forgotten. Breath caught in his throat as he tried his hardest not to be anything at all. Not a boy, not a person, or even a shadow. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

    He cast about the room for a way out. A narrow hall sank into darkness at the back wall. On silent feet he disappeared into it, creeping quieter than the quietest mouse. Up a flight of narrow stairs until he came to a hidden doorway behind a tapestry on the first floor. Slowly, so slowly, he peeked a single eye around the corner. The hall beyond lay almost black. Night had fallen. Gods! Shouldn'ta come, shouldn'ta come! Knew the light was bad! 

    He glared down the hall, waiting, but nothing moved in the near darkness. Nothing slunk there that he could see or hear or smell so he stole forward hugging the wall. The dim outline of the open front door seemed miles away, but he kept on. Staying still was certain death. Moving was only almost-certain death. 

    He made the doorway and rounded its corner and didn't wait to hear the nightmare of shambling sounds he knew would be following behind. Running through the tall grass on all-fours he came to the wall and almost lurched over without hesitation, but... that sound.

    The sounds were all around.

    They were here.

    He shrank against the wall instead, curling inward into a ball as small as he could go. Sounds. Awful sounds, like the Blackness Himself walking the streets. Snapping and crack, rustling and shuffling, and the horrible, sickening sound flesh makes when it's peeled, ripped, torn away from bone. They consumed him, blanked his mind, and froze his eyes wide open in his head. 

    A small drudger, like Smidge, on the streets of Balroon was given one chance to learn one lesson. One lesson, or that was it. Snuffed out. Shoved under a rubbish heap somewhere to be carted away with the refuse. Learn how to run, or die. Don't fight cuz you're too small. Just run. Run or die. Run good, or die. 

    So he ran.

    He sprang up onto the wall and ran along it. The light was gone, but the moon was rising now and he could just barely see the line of stone in front of his feet. He ran harder than he'd ever run in his life. Maybe they wouldn't see him. Maybe they wouldn't-

    A guttural, phlegm-coated scream pierced the darkness in his wake. Immediately the sound was copied. To his left and right others took up the call. The wall ended. He leaped to the ground, hit with a roll, and tore up the road. Fear fueled his legs. He wheezed a small cry, a small bit of primal terror with every breath. But he ran. He ran.

    Sooner than he would have thought possible, the great shadow of the walls of Balroon loomed in front of him, The gates were open, forgotten, abandoned. Behind followed the sounds of the Blackness Himself, the screams and the cries of agony mixed with blood lust. The cracking and the tearing and the choking. Smidge tore through the wall's deeper shadow, toward the open portal at its base and into the rocky country beyond. 

    Never stop runnin'! Never stop runnin'! Not ever ever ever ever ever!

    Overhead the moon glowed pale and lonely. By its light Smidge raced ahead of doom. He lost track of time. The entire world shrank until it consisted only of the burning in his lungs, the pain in his feet as they were sliced by the rough ground, and the sheer terror. He could no longer hear if he was being pursued. It simply did not matter any more. He must run only, and if he ever stopped he would die. With the night enveloping him on all sides, it was easy to become a small and mindless thing.

    Running became jogging, jogging deteriorated into a disjointed lurching gait fueled by equal parts fear and exhaustion. In the end, he could no longer remain upright and collapsed. The ground rose to meet him, but he did not even feel his head smack the rock, nor could he remember the pale grey world going dark again.