The deck was slick with water and waves leapt over the railings at every edge. Kilita gritted her teeth and started to make her way across the deck. Cold rain pounded against her skin and within seconds she was sopping wet and shivering. But even though the torrent felt like ice against her skin, she continued.

When she finally made it to the captain, she had seen no fewer than thirty men running around the deck, trying to keep the boat afloat. She found the captain leaning on the steering wheel with all his weight and shouting at the men.

“What can I do to help?” she shouted at him.

“Turn this wheel,” he shouted back. Kilita yanked on the wheel with all of her might and felt it move the smallest bit. She pulled and pulled until the captain shouted at her to stop. She pushed her hair out of her face with trembling hands and looked for Giovani.

He had said that he was going to do something terrible. Talisha had wanted her to keep an eye on him. When she had first met him, he had said that the storm was certain death.

Kilita searched through the sheet of rain and spotted him. Just as she began slipping her way towards him, the boat tipped farther than ever before and she went skidding across the slick deck. A man grabbed her at the last moment and she came to a halt seconds away from being tossed into the ocean. She looked up to thank the man, and found Giovani helping her stand.

“What are you doing out here?” he roared over the ocean.

“Talisha asked me to keep an eye on you,” she replied. He glared at the water sloshing around them, then back at Kilita.

“Go back,” Giovani said and pushed her towards the stairs, pointing. Kilita somehow managed not to fall as the boat rocked and tipped in the swells. She clambered down the first few steps and out of sight from Giovani before she turned back around. Pressing herself against the stairs, she peered out at him.

A man slid across the deck, grasping for a handhold, and Giovani snatched him. The man stood and rushed back off to do whatever he was told to. The boat tipped sharply and Giovani fell to his knees. The boat tipped the other way and Giovani slid towards the ocean. No one was there to catch him.

Even though Kilita was across the deck from him, she could see his eyes go wide. He scrambled for a foothold, a handhold, anything. The railing was too high, and he had slid too far. Their eyes connected for a split second before he vanished over the side.

Kilita leaped out of the stairwell and slid across the deck to where he had disappeared. She grabbed the railings in a white-knuckled grip and stared down at the churning black water. “Man overboard!” she screamed into the shrieking wind, hoping with all her might that someone would hear her.

Five men came running over. “He fell right here.” Kilita pleaded with Yasmin that Giovani could be saved. The men buckled on vests and tied themselves to a rope that they tied to the railing. Then they threw themselves into the ocean.

When Maya first saw the green hills and purple mountains and blue rivers, she knew this was the place where she was going to stay for the rest of her life. What she didn’t know was that it wasn’t her choice.

Maya stuck her head out of her cabin as the horses pulling it cantered along, bouncing and laughing all the while. She only pulled herself back in when she realised that they were nearing the border. Ahead was a tall pink wall. This was one of the famous trademarks of Jimal. Jimal crafted their walls and buildings out of a rosy stone that was quite nearly unbreakable.

Maya waited to cross the border impatiently, smoothing out her dress and making sure her hat was on correct and twisting her curled hair around her finger. She jumped when someone knocked on her door. She opened it and was grabbed by rough hands. A scarf was tied over her mouth and a sack was thrown over her head.

She was thrown onto a seat and whatever she was sitting in began moving very fast, jolting up and down. Maya was silent through the whole ordeal, unaccustomed to ruffians and shocked to silence. She sat frozen, unable to move from the fear squeezing her heart and lungs. Though her eyes were wide in terror, she could only see darkness.

When the bouncing finally came to a stop and rough hands pulled her out of her seat, she was trembling. During the ride, she had thought of all the reasons why they would want to kidnap her and those reasons had given her more fright than anything else she had encountered so far.

Whoever had taken her marched her forward and she walked until a hand held her back. The bag on her head came off suddenly, and Maya blinked in the bright light. But as her eyes became accustomed to the light, she realised that it was artificial light rather than sunlight.

“Is the light too bright?” a man said and the light dimmed. Maya opened her eyes to see a large throne made of the same rosy material as the wall was. The throne was dressed in the the most beautiful color of blue and Maya couldn’t stop her jaw from dropping. Then she noticed the man sitting on the throne, wearing a crown decorated in beautiful azure gems.

He leaned towards her, and his sapphire robes glittered and shimmered in the light. “Welcome, young maiden,” he said and motioned for someone to untie the scarf covering her mouth. Someone did.

“I’m sorry, but who are you?” she asked. The man sat back and laughed a very real and deep laugh that echoed throughout the chamber.

“I’m the ruler of Jimal, King Tylamar,” Maya’s jaw dropped again and she took in his face again. There were smile lines trailing from the corners of his brown eyes nearly into his red beard complete with sideburns. He had an easy smile and didn’t seem like a king who would ask ruffians to kidnap people and bring them to him.

Maya curtsied and the king nodded. “Why did I have to be brought to you in this fashion?” she asked, trying to keep her eyes off of his face and failing. He sat back and tapped his beard in thought.

“This has been a practice that has been done in this kingdom since my great-grandfather reigned. Those that come from foreign lands must be brought to me and then they must stay here for the rest of their lives,” He laughed. “That’s why there’s never a waiting line to cross the border.”

Maya took a step back, hand on her mouth. “Come, come now,” the king continued. “We trade with kingdoms as we can, but spies are so frequently trying to get in to learn our secrets. And I mustn’t let that happen. It would ruin my people,” He threw his hands into the air.

King Tylamar stood and walked to Maya. She tried stepping back but a servant pushed her forward until she stood just in front of the king. The king motioned for her to turn around and she did so jerkily. He clicked his tongue against his teeth.

“Who would you rather be? A lady or a serving girl?” he asked. Maya took a half step back at his question.

“A lady?” she said, not sure what he meant. He smiled.

“Alright then. You are to live in my kingdom as a lady, as a noble,” He snapped his fingers and Maya jumped. He gestured towards a serving girl. “Fava will take you to your room.”

And that was it.

Maya became a noble and lived in the kingdom Jimal until she passed away in old age. But there were so many secrets that surrounded the kingdom, and Maya couldn’t find out all of them, though she tried. There were many secrets, though she didn't know, that revolved around her.

But that's another story for another time.

Something there is,

That happens in the night.

Something there is,

That hurries away in fright.

We cry in the dark

Because we don’t know.

We cry in the dark

Wondering where to go.

Something climbs the wall.

Something goes thump in the hall.

Something is fast and small.

We fear the dark

From primal instinct

We fear the dark

From something thought extinct

Floorboard creaks

Something sneaks

No one speaks

We hold our breath

Waiting and wondering

We hold our breath

Listening to fluttering

Do you know what’s in the dark?

I don’t scream as the woman surely expects me to. I stand up, dropping the cloak, and she stumbles back. I look at the dagger in my stomach, shrug, and pull it out. It doesn't hurt going in or out, only gives me the feeling that something is where it shouldn’t be.

The woman’s eyes widen as she stares at my wound. Or where there would have been one if I was only a mortal. The hole in my shirt only shows pristine white skin and she seems very shocked by it. I let a harsh bark of laughter escape from my lips and she looks back up at me. She will finally learn what fear feels like.

I look at the dagger in my hand in an exaggerated movement. Then I look back at her. She tries to scramble back while keeping an eye on me and the glinting dagger in my hand. I frown at her as I would frown at a pet that had made a mess.

“Freeze.” The word is spoken clearly, as is necessary for magic to take hold onto what I want it to. She freezes, unable to move. Her eyes can’t go any wider, so the blood drains from her face instead. I crouch down next to her.

“Darling mortal, did you really think it would be that easy to kill me?” I let out a chuckle that makes her tremble in fright. “It’s just not that simple.” I glance at the dagger clutched gently in my hand again. Then our eyes connect. Her eyes are wide as a full moon and her face is as pale.

“Sadly though, I can’t kill you,” I say and she noticeably relaxes, trembling fading. “I have to send you to the Gregers instead. They get all the fun.” I stick out my lower lip and make a face found all too often on children when they don’t get what want. I found it quite fun to make, and found it much more fun watching the woman tremble so violently when she heard the name mortals cursed.

“What’s your name?” I ask. She looks at me, mouth closed. This was only a question, not a command. “Tell me your name.”

“Harina,” She speaks through gritted teeth. I smile, knowing the pain I caused by pulling an answer from a throat that didn’t want to speak it.

“Ah, Harina,” I say, remembering her name from the conversation I heard that was between her and her lover. “You have been very naughty.” I throw my head back and laugh, it echoing through the silent forest. Animals knew better than humans. They stayed far away from my kind.

“Sleep,” I say and she slumps to the ground, unconscious. I snap my fingers and Killamore launches himself from the tree. An arrow streaks towards him and thumps into his chest. Kill falls to the ground with a thud, stirring the dust that his dead body landed in. I just roll my eyes and leap to his side. It is only the length of five men, an easy stretch for me. Most mortals can only leap a single man’s length.

I wrench the arrow from Kill’s chest and he flutters back to life. A creature made from a dead creation cannot be killed. That was one of the many aspects he and I shared. I pointed at the woman and gave the command for him to take her to the Gregers. He picks her up with little difficulty and flys away. I hear a twang of a bowstring and the whoosh of two arrows.

I face the arrows and knock them away with my new blade faster than a mortal could blink. Easy, simple. I launch myself just in front of the bushes where I know the woman’s lover is waiting. The man charges out, screaming, bow taught with an arrow.

I knock him flat on his back and take his bow, arrows, and daggers. I leave his hidden one to give him a sense of security, but after what he had seen, a tiny dagger would give him more fear than if he had nothing.

“Your name is Entor,” I say, leaning over him. His eyes widen. “Yes, I heard your earlier conversation, before your lover went to kill me. She failed.”

“She’s my wife, not my lover,” he said, not moving from the ground.

I put a hand to my chin. “Yes, it appears so. ‘Entor, I am not a fool. I know what I am doing.’ She said it quite so imperfectly.” As I speak the exact words of Hirina, I mimic her voice perfectly. So perfectly, in fact, that Entor looks around to see if Harina has magically come back.

I laugh down at him, taking pleasure in his fear and the way his eyes widen when he flinches. Seemingly, my laughter makes him frightened.

“I will need to kill you, of course.” I say. Entor grows pale, as if he had not thought of that before. He begins backing up but I say, “Freeze.” He can’t do anything but hold still and watch me, fear in his eyes. Fear make his eyes so much brighter and I smile at him.

“But you must know. You can never run from a Sentry,” I crouch down next to him and tap the flat of the dagger against his cheek. “And never try to kill one of their pets.” I turn the blade just enough to nick his face. A drop of blood begins to bead on the cut. “Why do you seek to kill the Sentries?”

Entor’s eyes turn away and he doesn’t answer.

“Do you even know who we are?” Our gazes connect.

“I know that you protect that hideous King. Though for what reason I cannot fathom.” Anger changes his eyes. They almost looked better in barely fought rage, but I still enjoyed how the light in his eyes faded when he was afraid.

“Yes. We protect the King. Mostly from ignorants such as yourself,” I tilt my head. “We don’t die. We don’t receive wounds. We are imbued with special abilities that you mortals could never understand. We are miles above what you call your best.” I slide the flat of my blade across his forehead, wiping away the sweat collecting there. Then I press the blade against his throat with just enough pressure to be painful. Not enough to slit his throat though. Not yet.

“We. Are. Sentries.”

Part I

“Harina,” he says, looking deep into her eyes. “You don’t have to do this.” She knows he is trying to convince her to stay.

“Entor, I am not a fool. I know what I am doing,” she replies and turns to go. Before she can even take a step Entor grabs her wrist and turns her back.

“I know you are not a fool,” His eyes are soft as he speaks. “But I still worry a great deal.” His words are said quietly, but a power comes from behind them. Harina pulls him to her, welcoming the warm arms around her.

“I worry too. But we will both be safe at last. I am sure of it,” she murmurs against his chest. All too soon the embrace ends and the time for them to part comes. Harina pulls out of Entor’s arms, feeling chilled by their absence. She looks up into his beautiful face and smiles, brushing a lock of his unruly curly hair away.

Quickly, Entor pulls her close and presses his lips against hers. With that touch, her resolve nearly melts. But she kisses him back and manages to find strength enough to pull away. She smiles, musters her courage, and strides into the clearing.

>>>>>

I watch as the woman strides from her shelter of bushes. The bushes here grow as high as two men tall, and provide great hiding places. I had picked this clearing to meet in partially because of that. I am not hiding in a bush though. I crouch in a much more dignified place. One of the high branches of a tree.

Shrouded in green needles, I can’t be seen. But mortals hardly look up anyhow. I stroke the bald head of my dear pet Killamore and survey the woman’s lover. His cover is not sufficient to hide him from me. But then again, I see much better than mortals could ever see.

I let the woman wait for a time before dropping the length of ten men to the ground. I land silently, not even disturbing the dry dirt that would have risen for anyone else. I dip my hand into the soil and come out with a handful filled with the tiny creatures that no mortal even realises is there. Tintantiks.

I whisper words to them and they flee from the clod of earth. They swarm across the clearing, scouring every part of it, searching for magic. Mortals don’t know about these creatures and never see them. The woman remains undisturbed. The tintantiks come back, revealing that there is no magic but my own present. They burrow into the ground, leaving the pile in my hand alone. I smear this over my hands and face.

I pick up the ragged cloak I had scavenged for earlier and throw it over myself. My body hidden, I look like a mortal again. I have always had the form of one because it would be entirely futile to change it. I deal with them so often I would be changing skins every week. Futile.

I pull and twist my hair until it is a mess. I stuff this into the hood of the cloak and stumble into the clearing. The woman turns to me sharply, and I can see the hint of a handle on her hip. A dagger, sheathed. She schools her expression and tries to look intimidating.

“Quickly, that does it. Shake the bottle. Walk with the cane. Forget the ingredients,” I mumble nonsense under my breath as I stagger towards the woman. I keep my eyes trained on the air next to the woman’s head.

“Here now,” the woman says. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” She says the words with the voice of a killer, though I know she is not. Her hand strays towards the dagger.

“Secret soup. Desert for the ears,” My words are said with a slur, as if I was drugged. I could never be again. Not in the state I had been changed to. The woman’s mask falls from her face and she looks completely incredulous.

“You’re the informant?” she asks, jaw still hanging. I nod crookedly and drop onto the ground.

“Long walk. Has to talk”

The woman crouches before me. “Blue reins supreme when dealt with colors. Code; Charlatan.”

I look up at her and notice the necklace hanging from her throat. It’s a red teardrop-shaped stone. I could rip it off her without her ever noticing my movement. “It’s dealing, not dealt. And charlatans are imposters, hoping to get coin from you,” I croak out.

“How do you kill a Sentinel?” That’s what this whole meeting was about. This woman wanted a clandestine meeting to discuss how to kill me. She didn’t know I was the one she wanted to kill. She thought she was meeting with an informant who had the disguise of a beggar. Mortals are always more stupid than I can ever imagine.

“Dagger, stomach … sword, head … blade, body…” I begin mumbling to myself again and get up, turning to leave. Then I pause. The woman touched my shoulder.

I turn back and she holds out a small pouch. I reach to take it and feel its weight. Twenty coins. All steel, coated in gold. I open the pouch and count the yellow circles. I was perfect in every account. I put them back in the pouch and drop it onto the ground. I pull out a dagger from within the recesses of my cloak.

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with, woman,” I keep my words slurred and my steps unsteady. Best she think I’m drunk then she know the extent of my powers. Yet. “I’m a Sentinel, and I’m going to kill you.”

The woman smiles and whips out her dagger. It is twice as large as the one in my hand. I smile and take a stumbling step towards her. She whips out a foot and lands me flat on my back. She raises the dagger over me and I can see a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. Then her grin deepens and she plunges the dagger into my stomach. Right where I told her to.

She can’t have killed me anyway. Even I don’t know how I will find my end. Maybe I am immortal. Maybe I can’t die.

The first time humans and dragons met, neither understood each other.

First time met,

First time saw.

Dragons and humans,

Understanding lost.

Dragons (though they knew many, many languages) had never encountered humans before and knew nothing of their language.

Dragons understood

And never forgot.

Humans won’t learn,

Rather fire a shot.

Humans (though diverse in their own dialects) had never even tried learning another being’s language that wasn’t one of their own.

Dragons were rulers

Without a challenge.

Humans were greedy,

Cruel, and savage.

And when the races first met, it was a clash.

Dragons tried learning,

Looking curiously.

Humans saw a threat,

And acted accordingly.

Humans thought dragons were a threat and acted on it.

Humans challenged

What had never been fought.

Dragons fought back,

Stronger than they thought.

Dragons had never been attacked before and met the humans at their strongest.

A record of that,

Dragons against,

We will now know

From a story hence.

This is the story of how they met, how many died, and what happened after.

A tale of their meeting,

Death, and battle,

Of someone who fled

Not slaughtered like cattle

I’ve never been able to give a full account of the lies that surround me. Then again, I AM one.

I’ve always been told that my mother died when I was four. I was always told that my father has never been found. That’s the explanation I was told as to why I was left with my uncle more than a decade ago.

But of course, none of this was true.

I figured it all out when I had snuck into my uncle’s office. It was past my bedtime, way past. But I hadn't ever been caught before, so why would I be caught now?

I crept down the stairs, stepping carefully on the boards I knew wouldn’t creak. I always skipped the third stair from the bottom because it always creaked, no matter where you stepped. I landed on the soft red carpet that kept the house warm at night. I could walk freely now, it would muffle my footsteps.

I made my way down a few corridors and made it to the imposing door. It stood seven feet tall and I was a full two heads shorter. Bold black letters on the bubbly glass read;

OFFICE OF GERALD HENRY:

COPYRIGHT EDITOR

They were just at my eye level and seemed darker than ever before. But Uncle Ger was asleep, I had made sure to check on him before I had crept down here. Breather on his face and whirring noisily.

I pushed in the key I had taken off of his dresser, turned it, and opened the door silently. I slipped in and closed the door behind me. I sat in Uncle’s big plush armchair and opened the drawer I knew the manilla folder was in. I took the folder out with trembling hands and read the title, my breath caught in my throat.

Marilyn Karleen Hawthorne III

Secrets

Addressed to her brother on Oct. 5

10 years ago

Marilyn Karleen Hawthorne III was my mother. I opened the folder and read everything inside.

I had only began wondering about my parents when my uncle had started talking as if my mother was still alive. Saying things like, “Marilyn knows” or “Marilyn is” and things like that. In present tense rather than past. He had also been drinking more and more.

Something didn’t connect quite right. I needed to investigate.

I had seen him consulting the folder from time to time. I didn’t care what it was, until I had taken a look at it’s cover, and seen my mother’s name written there. Then I needed to take a longer look.

When I finished reading, I took a minute and sat there, soaking it all in. My mother was very much alive, my father was known and alive. I held up a picture of them in each other’s arms. I could see my face in each of theirs.

As I held the picture up, the light filtered through it and words seemed to appear.

This is for Elizabeth. I want her to know the truth.

Please tell her our story.

I flipped the card over, but the writing was backwards on this side. It was in my mother’s neat handwriting. There was a heart scrawled under the words and I knew that it wasn’t my mother’s hand that had drawn it. In a flash, I realized it must be my father’s drawing.

I slipped the picture in a pocket, put everything back and locked the door behind me. I climbed into my bed and looked at the picture until I fell asleep.

It’s been years since I found out that my mother is a spy. Since I learned that my father is also a spy. Since I found them, and joined them. Years since I became a spy myself. There have been lies surrounding me since I was little. There are still lies surrounding me, and there will be for a long time.

Then again, I could be lying. That would make me a liar too.

But what about you? Are YOU a liar?