I turned my head and got up out of bed, slowly at first, then, with realization ringing in my ears, raced toward the window in my humble home. “Night raid!” I heard someone scream from out in the street, and after the distant explosion I heard afterward, I realized why. Fear tore at my chest and my eyes widened as I swiveled around to find my parents’ room. Fire danced on the rooftops of the houses down the street, eating its way inside like an animal might eat its prey, and I tried to push the thought from my mind, but couldn’t stop thinking about what could happen to the people inside those houses. I darted out into the hallway toward my parents’ room, my sisters trailing behind me in a frenzy of curls and nightgowns. I ran up to the door and flung it open, revealing my father as he shook my deaf mother awake.

“Dad—” I started, but he hushed me, helping my mother up and out of bed.

“A night raid, I know.” He started digging hurriedly through his dresser. “Get the girls onto the porch and we’ll meet you there.”

I ran from the room, leaving my mother digging through drawers with my father, and went back down the hall to my older sister, who was holding onto my younger sister’s hand and waiting at the end of the hallway near the back door. Hannah, my older sister, ran up to meet me, nearly picking Lillian up as she dragged her across the hallway. The little eight-year-old was bawling, and neither me nor Hannah did anything to stop her. It was best she just let it out.

“Dad says he wants us on the back porch,” I said quickly, picking Lillian up and turning around, but before I could start back down the hallway, Hannah put a firm hand on my shoulder, not turning me around, but not letting me go, either.

“Avi, listen, I was told not to tell you this”—I stopped squirming under her grip, and my breath caught in my throat—“but there’s a chance we might not make it out of this, so I thought you should know.” I heard her take in a deep breath, and for a moment her grip softened on my shoulder. My chest throbbed. We never kept secrets from each other. “Do you know the way Mom lost her hearing? Well, it wasn’t from disease, like you probably thought. It happened because she and Dad were once... were once...” her speech faded to a halt, and when I finally turned around to face her, her eyes were glossy and her grip loosened so much her hand fell to her side, and she just stood, and I stood watching her with Lillian in my arms doing the same. My attention snapped back to it when I heard another explosion, accompanied by the cries of villagers and Lillian’s gasp. I let Lillian down (she clung to my leg) and took Hannah’s hand instead. I tried to pull her toward the back door, but she stood as still—and as strong—as a statue, ensuing that I would not be able to move her without some serious strength, which I didn’t happen to have with me—and then I heard a loud explosion from just outside our house, shaking the front door on its hinges and rippling the picture-frames hanging on the walls. I struggled to keep balanced, and panic ran through me when I spotted Hannah tipping over like a stiff board. I stepped forward to try to catch her, but the floor shook and I fell to my knees instead, Lillian letting go and stumbling over my leg to the floor. I heard, faintly, her cries as I searched my blurring, panicked vision for where Hannah had fallen, but I couldn’t make out my own hand as I clutched the floor to keep consciousness. I removed a hand from the floor and flailed about to find Hannah, but only a voice met my efforts. I had to listen to hear it, and even then it was a weak, meager, soprano voice, failing to cut into the air with confidence as she normally did.

“I’m... not who you need to worry about anymore.” Hannah whispered weakly, and I heard her cough through the smoke and debris. “Mother and Father, they were in the attack a long time ago, and they... said... and y-you—you were... you are...” the smoke cleared enough for me to make out her face, her long blond locks falling around her pale complexion, now covered in soot and the light in her eyes retreating. “Take Lilli...” her eyes slid up and met mine, the last life she had meeting my gaze with a certainty I had never seen before, and I caught a streak of blood run down her forehead before I turned around and took Lillian’s hand, making my way back down the hallway and toward the door, leaving her behind in the attack. “And run.”

Terror ran through my thoughts, corrupting any hope of happy nights for the next year more and more with each step away from my family. It felt like tearing away one of my limbs and stabbing my head only a million times worse, and the only thought that soothed me was that Lillian ran beside me into the field, darkened by the night and a fiery red from the village fire reflecting on it like a painting of blood-splattered roses. I hated to think of how little people would survive this inferno, if any. Would my family make it out? It wasn’t likely. But if my parents made it through some attack before this, like Hannah said, then maybe they could make it out of this too... I thought of the defeat in Hannah’s voice when she told me to flee and tears stung my eyes.

“Come quickly, Lillian, we need to get away from Mithle as fast as we can.” I distracted myself, tightening my grip on Lilli’s hand but not moving any faster. If we lost the village, then there was a pretty good chance we would never get back, but that was the least of my concerns.

“But where we going, Avi?” She sniffed in an attempt to stop from crying.

I nearly slowed to a halt, but Lillian didn’t seem to think stopping to be such a good idea, so she pulled me along toward the edge of the field into the woods surrounding the village. We were nearly there, too, but then I couldn’t take it anymore, and I fell to my knees and pulled Lillian into my arms and dug my face into her little shoulder to hide my wet cheeks and swollen eyes. She stood, shocked at my sudden movement, then, just as she had begun to calm herself, began to sob and hugged me back, her little arms not reaching farther than my shoulder blades. Thick black smoke billowed through the air, and the earth smelled like ash, but I didn’t care. There was only one person in this world I still had, and that was Lillian. If I were to lose her, I might as well slay myself and join the rest of my family, and my eyes burned as I opened them again, looking at Lillian with what I tried to make an encouraging smile.

“Lets go to the woods.”

I got to my feet, not caring about anything more than my sister’s shaking nod as she agreed earnestly, wiping her eyes and turning around to face the forest line in front of us. We started forward again, our bare feet padding on the cold earth as we began walking, and we got to the edge of the field in a matter of seconds, neither of us daring to look behind us. I pulled Lilli toward the tree line, then I heard a rustling noise. I swiveled around, searching for what it could have been, but I found just the empty field and the billowing smoke and flame from the town. Suspicion grew in my thoughts and my grip strengthened on Lillian’s hand as I turned back around, and pain immediately shot through my head. My vision blurred instantly and I fell to the ground, my hand falling away from Lillian’s and falling onto something cold and... silky? It felt smooth and weightless as it enveloped me. I felt calm for some reason as it poured onto my shoulders, slithering up to the pain in the back of my head and covering me completely. Then I regained my senses and heard Lillian’s high-pitched cries that brought me back to reality.

But then they stopped, and there was silence. The substance that covered me retreated as I bolted up, and I saw vaguely as my vision righted itself that it was an unnatural glowing orange liquid that soaked into the ground like water, and in seconds it was as if it were never there, then the ground was dark and hard again. I scrambled to my feet and yelled Lillian’s name to the empty air. Silence tore at my ears and I focused harder, only to hear the distant plumes of fire and the burning village and the screams of villagers and the sound of everything but Lillian. My little sister couldn’t have left me so soon after I left my family. Tears streaked my cheeks and I cried out again and again to the silent field. I knew she would respond. She would respond, crying with her arms open, waiting for comfort. If I could hear her voice, if just one sign, it would all—

The searing pain in the back of my head returned, and this time before my vision blurred I caught a glimpse of a figure too tall and drawn to be Lilli in my peripheral vision as the cold tangerine substance broke through the dry earth to envelope me and take me away again, and I didn’t stop it. I didn’t hear Lillian’s cry again, and I laid still and let the calming liquid pour over me. This was a nightmare, and I was about to get up. If I died, then my nightmare would end, and I’d wake up to the smell of breakfast and a new set of chores with Hannah and Lillian making their beds and yawning, commenting on how the weather was nice. If I died—if this killed me—then I would wake up. My death would be the only end to this nightmare.

Because my nightmares would always end with death.

My death.

A frigid, unbearable cold splashed over my body and I shivered uncontrollably, shaking as I opened my eyes and sat up, wrapping my arms around myself with chattering teeth and quick, drawn breaths. I couldn’t see anything but pitch black darkness on all sides, pinning me with my thoughts and the lingering cold of the liquid soaking my clothes. I heard heavy breathing from... two, maybe three people coming from the darkness beyond whatever I was sitting on, which sent a chill down my spine and a jitter through my arms. I heard faint whispering coming from the abyss, but I couldn’t understand a word of it through the ringing in my ears and the panic in my thoughts. The only thing I could think to do is scream, but I couldn’t manage it through the ice in my lungs.

“L-lil—l-lilli...”

I felt a hard, cold hand grip my arm and I jerked away, but it was stronger and kept me leashed with its talons, then the world went white. I squinted and my eyes watered, then the light dimmed and I could make out a small, claustrophobic room with a chair in two of the corners and two men and a woman with blurred faces standing in the middle. They were wearing white, long-sleeved coats down to their knees, and all of them were holding a pen and a board with paper, a few of them writing something down. They didn’t look like anyone that would come from around my village, or from any of the surrounding villages, either. They didn’t look like they were from any village at all. Who were these people? Why did I survive the fire?

Why did I not wake up from this nightmare?

An image of the glowing orange liquid soaking into the bare earth flashed into my mind, and my breathing became faster, my eyes watering at the thought of Lillian running beside me.

I looked to my left to see a fourth person with one of his slim, almost robotic fingers wrapped around my forearm so hard I could feel the blood slowly drip down to my elbow and onto the floor, where it made little dots that looked like they sunk into the flooring, but I blinked and they were still there. I was becoming delusional. Are these the same people—the same things that took Lillian? Do they have her now? Thoughts bubbled through my mind in my hallucinational state, and before I knew what I was doing I was speaking quite clearly aloud. I heard myself mouthing the questions that crossed my mind, and I screamed, taking all four of the coated people by surprise, the one on my arm loosening his grip so I could finally yank myself away. I could feel the skin on my arm tear as I broke loose of the monster’s metal grip, but I ignored the pain and shot to my feet, jumping off the bed. Then I stumbled down to the ground with weak knees and numbness all over. My head spun, and I looked up at the four people as if I wanted them dead by the gallows as they crowded around me, writing more down with their pens. I shivered again, and I felt as if the blood on my arm would freeze in place.

“I-if you think y-y-you can capture me, it will—will be harder t-than this...”

Then I saw one of them show their teeth in a calculated smile. I wanted to growl at him like a rabid dog, but I couldn’t move.

“Hello, Mr. Itoma, we’d like you to answer some questions.” The low humming sound escaped the mouth of the smiling man like vipers on the hunt and I recoiled. The other people started nodding, bringing their pens up unanimously—and I looked at the ground as my foot regained its feeling. I shot up to my feet, trying to sock the nearest one in the face, but she caught my hand mid-swing and held it with the same steely grip of the other, then she pulled my ear close to her mouth and said in a monotonous purr that would never leave my thoughts, “Avi Itoma, you will never be more than a pawn for our experiments.”

No.

“You will never be anything more than that, and deep inside yourself, even if you refuse to acknowledge it, you know we’re right.”

No.

“We know who you are, where you live—or rather, where you lived, and”—she grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked me closer to her mouth to whisper the words—“where your siblings are, too.”

“No!” I screamed, trying to kick her unsuccessfully. She grabbed my leg by the knee and I went down, hitting my head on the floor and blacking out.

+++

A searing pain in the back of my head brought me to consciousness, and I found myself in another darkness, but this time the thing I was laying on was harder, and I could see little slivers of light through the darkness, meaning that I probably wasn’t dead.

I was still in the nightmare, huh?

I slung my legs over the edge of the bed and slowly got up, the throbbing pain in the back of my head intensifying like a sledgehammer to my senses. I took a deep breath of air that stank of disease, then I was standing. Wobbly, maybe, but it worked. I looked at the slivers of light in the darkness, then I started hearing voices. Not like before, though. These were normal voices, like children at play and casual conversations dulled by distance. I started forward, but then there was a loud, elongated creak and one of the slivers of light widened, revealing another silhouette, a figure of ebony against glowing ivory, and I couldn’t help but squint at the sudden change of light. My eyes adjusted just as the silhouette started speaking, and an immediate wave of relief ran through me when I heard it wasn’t one the people from before, but a warm, elderly voice that beckoned me forward, but I bit the urge back under the suspicion that rose at the returning thought of Lillian.

“Ah, so you’re awake!” I saw, as my eyes adjusted little by little, that a smile broke across his wrinkled features, and I took a shaky step back toward the wall behind me. “For a while there I thought you had some serious damage to your head, but I see it’s alright.” He paused, waiting for my answer, then, figuring out I was too jarred to respond, continued. “It’s always nice to see new faces, though it’s not always very jolly reasons that people come to the Ridge, unfortunately. But nonetheless—”

“Where am I?” I rasped suspiciously.

The man looked taken aback. Apparently he wasn’t quite used to having people answer so quickly. I shivered.

He cleared his throat, reassuming his friendly demeanor. “This is Naihabi Ridge, a camp for the survivors of the recent attacks on Malynian villages and towns who seek refuge.” He glanced behind him at a particularly loud conversation, then turned back to me, his voice quieter, making him sound even older and more fragile, “You come from one of the northern villages?”

I considered not answering, then nodded, figuring that my ruined village home couldn’t be put into any danger by telling this man.

“I see. Well, I suppose you would like to know where you are.” He nodded as if answering his own question. “You are in the southern medical ward, which is basically just a series of extra bedrooms in the main southern building.”

I looked around me, my thoughts getting the best of me. This is a building? It looks more like the storage shack we kept in the yard for plowing tools. My eyes glazed over the slivers of sunlight through the thin wooden slabs that made up the walls. The mattress I was laying on before I got up smelled as if so many things happened on it, and it was not pleasant, not to mention how calling it a rock would be a complement, and it was practically a stove. There were no windows, trapping in all the heat from outside, or even any lamps for light. It was dark and humid. I sighed, deciding not to say anything to the poor old man.

“Now, if you would be so considerate as to come outside, I could have Oriole show you around the Ridge.”

Oriole?... I thought confusedly. Like, the bird?

I took a hesitant step forward toward the man, who was walking hastily toward the exit, beckoning me forward excitedly with his wrinkled hand. I lifted my foot in a step again, then I froze at the loud screech of a little girl that came from outside in the dry, sandy yard, making the old man turn around and look. Lillian?

I broke into a desperate sprint across the miniature room, my mind rushing with hope and possibility, and I ran through the doorway, accidentally pushing the old man out of the way in the process, then I came to an immediate stop on the porch of the shack, which was like a wooden hallway that was open on the side facing the yard and spanned the whole length of the building. My eyes darted around the yard frantically, scanning the faces of the people there with excitement that painfully started to wear away with every feature that wasn’t Lillian’s. My breath was fast and my eyes burned with crushed hope. It was irrational, anyway. Why would Lillian be here?

“I told you to move!” A young but deep voice yelled from across the yard, and my eyes met the sight of a dirty boy that looked the age of sixteen. Big, brawny, and irritated, by the look of it, but still a year or two younger than me. He towered over a younger girl who was kneeling over another, littler girl with blood dripping from her nose onto the dusty ground. The boy had another big dude flanking his right side. Big, brawny, but kind of dumb-looking. My gaze caught on the group and the fact that no one paid any attention to the commotion. Was it common for unfair fights to be ignored here? Father would have gone and spoken some sense into both parties, then, with a flick to the forehead, sent them home with shame on their faces.

My breath caught at the thought of my peaceful homeland, and I started forward, intending to stop the fight the way my family taught me to. But almost as soon as I stepped forward with determination in my eyes, I ran into an outstretched arm blocking my path. I turned to apologize, but froze at the pointed, feminine face that gave me cold consideration. Then, seeing my face, she lowered her arm, stepping back to the customary distance between boys and girls of unmarried status. I opened my mouth to ask her what she was doing, but she raised her hand with an unamused expression. I’d never seen a girl do that before.

“Look, since you’re new here, I’ll enlighten you.” I raised an eyebrow, refusing to move from my position. “That is no fight. That is what we like to call ‘collection’. Those boys over there are where they are because that girl refused to answer her summoning.”

I opened my mouth to speak, determined to get to the bottom of my confusion. “What summoning?”

She cleared her throat as if to say what an obvious question and it kind of annoyed something in my gut. “None of us have to pay for our room and board here at the Ridge, so in its stead, there is a chance that we will be summoned, but none of us return, and none of us know what it really is, so many people don’t comply immediately, but eventually they learn that they don’t have any choice in the matter, and that this is their only home for miles. People have tried to escape, but they either die in the southern heat or get bitten by the poisonous snakes that roam the parts.” My mouth dropped open accidentally. The girl kept a straight face while saying that last part, her dark grey eyes matching the rest of her face intensely.

“There is a group of buffs like the ones you see over there who come and get the people who try to run from their summon, like the girl over there, even if it means coming down to brute force.”

I looked over at the girl leaning over her friend, protecting her from the hunks.

“And as for that girl—the one trying to shield the summoned one—she’s going to be hurt too if she doesn’t comply with the collectors’ demands.”

“But what would happen to her afterward?” I asked, not lifting my eyes from the commotion. “The girl, I mean.”

“What is there to say? She would probably get called much sooner than she would have if she would have obeyed.” She turned away from the fight. “She should mind her own business and keep her composure. It’s just what happens around here.” I thought I caught her features sadden, but then the flicker faded back into nonchalance. “Anyone who interferes with collection pays the price. That’s just how it is.”

I stared at the girl and clamped my mouth shut, keeping my eyes glued to the fight. I had a new fear digging at my gut. This place might have been worse than the ivory room of torture I had escaped from.

“Open your eyes, all at Naihabi Ridge! It’s a new morn and a new day, a new chance to be taken away!”

I started up in my bed, my breaths fast and panicked. I closed my eyes again, realizing it was only a dream. I felt a cold layer of sweat on my back, and I sighed. It was only a dream.

It was my third broiling hot day at Naihabi Ridge, and I’d been having nightmares every night when I laid down on my bunk in the cabins where we kept what little belongings we had. Beside my bunk, there was my set of nightclothes from home and my new set of clothes they gave me for Naihabi Ridge. They were ragged. Not dirty, but definitely not new in any way. They were faded, loose, gray and brown fabric. But it was better than nightclothes, and in the heat of the day, it was better to be wearing loose things anyway.

At Naihabi Ridge, there was a schedule for each and every person for each and every day. First thing in the morning, we could either get up and go take a shower in lukewarm water in the bathhouse, which was crowded and filled with abnormally large bugs, or we could sleep in while everyone else took a shower, and whoever would do that would reek of sweat worse than everyone else all day so that not even they themselves could stand it. Then we would go to eat breakfast, which was normally light and not a fraction as good as Mother’s or even Hannah’s home cooking. Then it was work.

Every person was tried in both physical and mental health all day, every day, as if someone was always expecting something really bad to happen to us. It sickened me. Some would collapse half way through, and others would last longer, but most didn’t make it through the day without giving up or passing out from exhaustion or dehydration. It was like they were testing how long we could go without water.

I shook out my hands and slipped my feet over the side of my bunk, taking a deep breath and then jumping to the floor, making a muffled sound on the wood from my ripped socks. Torin, the guy that slept on the bunk below me, still laid motionless, sprawled on his bunk. He normally got up at the very end of shower time and rushed to the bathhouse and just barely rinsed off after everyone else had left and just before breakfast was called. Over the three mornings I’d been here, he’d missed breakfast twice. He normally passed out just before lunch—which was before everyone else—but if I were to describe him in one word, it wold be boundless. Whenever we weren’t on the field, he was the most energetic person around. He was both of two extremes, so I tried not to associate myself with him too much, but sometimes it was hard not to. He was kind of talkative.

I took my day clothes in a small pile and slipped my sandals on silently, trying not to wake anyone else in the cabin—since I wasn’t getting back to sleep anyway, the nightmare gave me a chance for an early morning shower before it got hot and crowded.

In the rare times that there was silence or stillness, my thoughts would travel to darker, sadder places and I would either get yelled at to keep moving or no one would do anything at all, and I would be stuck in my soundless peril. This was one of those times.

I sighed raggedly, preferring movement of some kind to mental agony, so I walked out into the main yard, still only dimly lit from the early signs of sunrise. I turned left toward the minuscule building that always seemed to take forever to walk to. I remained impressed with myself for being able to walk there every morning so soon after waking up with the aches from the tiring previous day still running through my practically nonexistent muscles. I stepped on the stamped ground and packed dirt of the first shower house. There was a shower house for each of the four sections of the Ridge. The northern buildings had a bathhouse facing north, the southern buildings had theirs facing south, and so on. I was placed in the eastern sector for some reason, and the one thing I noticed was that none of the buildings actually had flooring except the sleeping cabins and the main southern buildings, which I had only ever visited consciously on my trip to the medical ward for the physical examination that I was pretty sure they had already run on me while I was unconscious. I shivered as the lukewarm water filled the bucket at my feet. These people were creeps, if nothing else. The one person other than the ruthless physical or mental trainers that paid me what little attention I’d received so far was Torin and the dubious girl who explained collection to me. I dipped my feet in the water and rubbed them, sighing at how good it felt to release some of the tension etched in my skin. The one thing I didn’t understand, however, was why no one was allowed to leave their section unless escorted there by someone who had permission by the overlords of the Ridge—who I realized I knew nothing about.

I stopped rinsing myself at the sound of voices from another bathhouse. It was at least an hour before everyone normally woke up. And if there was an exception, like myself, then they always came alone... at least that I knew of. I knew I would be too embarrassed to go wake someone up nearly two hours before dawn just for company in the shower. Sleep here was precious. Besides... who would I ask?

I sighed, not coming up with any answers. No friends—or even allies—to speak of.

The conversation being held in one of the neighboring bathhouses stayed consistent, though I couldn’t decipher anything other than the fact that they were female...

I knew I shouldn’t, that it would be preposterous back in my northern village home, but I couldn’t push away the idea of going and listening in on their conversation. What if it were of something important? I didn’t know any girls here other than the dubious one; the sexes were sectioned off before testing—training, so I only got the chance to meet the one girl at the Southern building by coincidence, and I made me a little uncomfortable to have no girls around, having grown up with two sisters. My heart seemed to receive a stern slap from my mind, and I bit my lip to bay my emotions as I walked forward toward the changing rooms. If I were going to go listen to them, then I would need to slip my clothes on first, which I did, then I found the back exit. It was in the very furthermost back corner, almost completely hidden behind one of the lockers, and it took me several minutes of hushed, thorough searching to locate it. I creaked open the door, then locked my gaze through the crack on the interlocking X of grass in between the corners of the four buildings. I focused and heard the conversation continue through the walls of the southern bathhouse, which was the building to my left.

I still couldn’t make out the words.

I let out an aggravated grumble, deciding not to dwell on the inevitable next move... I would have to sneak in the building. But I wasn’t sorted into the southern section, so I didn’t know what all was different there. The buildings looked the same on the outside, but who could tell if the inside were drastically different? I quickly spun around and glared at myself in one of the locker mirrors, grunted irritatedly, then spun back around and headed out the door toward the walls of the southern bathhouse silently, my breaths heavy with dread and annoyance.

I came up to the building, pressed my back to the wall, leaned my head back, took a deep breath, then exhaled and rushed up under the window of the girls’ washroom. I crouched there, pressing my ear up against the wall to hear.

It was muffled, but I could just barely make out the words.

”... difference?” A mature-sounding voice inquired. “There wouldn’t be much of a challenge, and then we would be done.”

“But there must be another way,” a younger, more careful voice replied in a hushed tone that was nearly inaudible through the wall.

“There is not. I can assure you that this is the most efficient way.”

“But Warden—”

“This is not an arguable case. Do you understand?”

Warden? I pressed myself harder against the wall. There was something about the younger voice that struck me as familiar, but I couldn’t pinpoint anything other than the fact that I’d heard that voice somewhere before.

“Warden—”

“Do you understand?”

“... difference?” A mature-sounding voice inquired. “There wouldn’t be much of a challenge, and then we would be done.”

“Good. Now, if that is all, then you are dismissed.”

I heard a slosh of water as one of them moved, but then it stopped again and the younger voice spoke, her unease leaking through the crack in her voice. “Permission to speak freely, Ma’am?”

I heard her surprise. “Granted.”

“Miss Warden, this is a very bad idea. There is certainly a much better alternative we could exploit if only we had the time to find it.”

“But we don’t have the time. If there were anything I could do, believe me, I would do it, but there isn’t. It pains me how much this takes away from my humanity, but it can’t be helped. There is nothing we can do. Leave me, Oriole.”

Something in my mind snapped. The girl that explained collection, the one with the unbearable nonchalance. She was the younger voice, and she was the Oriole the old man mentioned. I heard the sloshing of moving feet in water and I crouched down on the grass to process it all. What was that girl doing with the warden?

“Excuse me, but what is an eastern boy like you doing leaning on the girls’ side of the southern bathhouse?” The voice of the warden rung out from the edge of the building. My head snapped up, meeting her severe brown eyes as they glared down at me. The lie I had on my tongue died at the skepticism in her gaze. I had nothing to say.

+++

“Avi Itoma, would you care to explain why you were found under one of the windows of the girls’ bathhouse just before the fifth bell?” The plump man who oversaw punishments asked irritably, nearly losing his composure every time he opened his mouth. His cheeks were red and raw as an uncooked ham as he glared at me through the little slits that sunk into his chub with ease and only technically counted as eyes. I wondered how he saw clearly—if he even saw at all. “You weren’t even supposed to be awake until the sixth bell.”

I suppressed a sigh and instead cleared my throat. I had no problem lying to this oversized temper tantrum. “I couldn’t sleep, and I saw something near the southern bathhouse through the window in the changing rooms, so I went to see what it was, and then the warden found me.” I saw the look in his eyes and quickly added, “I didn’t do anything else, I swear.”

He murmured something under his breath, taking a piece of paper and a pen out from under his desk to write something. I turned around and glanced at the door where I knew someone stood guard. Why would they need a guard outside an office like this, that belonged to someone like that? My mouth harbored a sour taste, and I turned back around to see the man scribbling something down on the paper with such jerky, irritated motions that I thought he would surely snap his pen if he were to grip it any harder. He sat in a cushioned chair, which I had never seen before. All the seats at home were wooden, so I knew not of such lusciousness. Besides, I thought, wouldn’t he have enough natural cushion for several seats?

I held my snicker and tallied my rude thoughts. Just because he’s unpleasant doesn’t mean I should think of him impolitely. I have to hold my manners.

I couldn’t contain my laughter and I snorted in my throat as a last resort, then the room fell dead silent and I instantly regretted thinking so impertinently. The man’s head snapped up from the paper and he was practically steaming, his face twisted in broiling fury. His eyes bulged and his face turned purple all the way up to his receding hairline. I held my breath, hoping it was just my imagination, but unfortunately I knew that it was not.

“Got something to say, hotshot, or should I just tell the warden what you were really doing by the girls’ bathhouse?!” He roared, tipping his bottle of ink over onto the wood, beginning to soak in the black color instantly.

I backed up a step, thinking of how to word an apology that wouldn’t sound like me mocking him. I decided on another lie. “Sir, I apologize if it came off as rude, but I was just thinking of something my father used to say before... well...” I trailed off, only partially faking awkward sadness and fixing my gaze on the wooden flooring in front of me, hoping he couldn’t see through me.

His face turned a lighter shade of purple, but his anger didn’t quake. A ticking time-bomb ready to explode.

Good grief, I hoped he wouldn’t explode.

“Thirré, come here!” He shrieked, and instantly the door was open and a girl ran through the room until she was next to me, facing the temper tantrum at his worst. This was his worst, right?

“What is it you need assistance with, Master?” The girl squeaked, wringing her hands nervously.

“Take this young man to the yard. I’m done with him.” He ground the words through his yellow teeth and immediately dug his head into his report again, dismissing the servant with a flick of his hand.

The girl touched my arm lightly, looking up at me with no particular emotion other than fear and sheer servitude. “Please come with me,” she whispered quietly.

The maidservant, Thirré, led me through the temper tantrum’s door through to the porchway, which is what I decided to call the hallway-like porches that were outside the bigger buildings at the Ridge. Thirré seemed very uppity, so I assumed she was new to the line of work or, as a darker thought dawned upon me, belonged to a very cruel master. I shook the thought, stepping down the two wooden steps toward the packed sand that appeared so much to be glowing in the sunlight that my eyes hurt just looking at it. I glanced up at the wooden cart they had parked in the yard instead, filled to the breaking point with woven sacks. I wonder if one of those sacks could be from my family’s farm...

“Ouch!”

I stumbled back off the maidservant’s heel, startled and immediately apologetic after hearing her pained squeak. She was such a petite, quiet person that I didn’t even notice her there. Thirré, seeming to realize completely what happened, swiveled around and bowed frantically. “I apologize for stepping in your way, sir, I promise it won’t happen—”

“No, um, it’s okay.” I stuttered, bringing both my hands up awkwardly to stop her from apologizing for getting stepped on. “It was my fault, anyway.”

She paused and glanced up at me, then, seeing that I was staring at her, dropped her head and bowed lower. “I am in your debt, kind sir.”

“Thirré—” she flinched and I stopped, then dread started to build in my gut at the impending meaning of her reaction. “Would there happen to be any particular meaning behind your name?”

“N-no, sir.” She released a tight breath quietly.

I knew she was lying, but figured it would be rude to pursue something that could be so private, so I nodded, letting her up from her bow with an inward sigh.

Thirré then continued to lead me back to the eastern quarter of the compound, where things suddenly became more familiar and much more tense. I looked around as we passed the border from southern to eastern quarters, catching anxious glances from my cabin mates as we went. She kept leading me all the way up to one of the eastern testing fields that I’d never seen before, then she stopped again and I promptly caught my foot before I tripped on her and mentally won myself a medal. Too bad it isn’t a fan to cool me off out here instead.

“We have arrived, sir,” The maidservant turned to face me and bowed again. “Is there anything else you require assistance with?”

I looked around the scene—the sand, the wooden buildings several lengths away, the sandy dune in which we came, where I saw a small group of my colleagues shifting uneasily. “Actually,” I told Thirré, not looking away from the collection of familiar faces, “there is one thing.”

“Sir?”

“Could you tell me exactly what I’m doing here?”

She paused, lifting from her bow, then she folded her hands in front of her uncomfortably, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “This is the field where the warden delivers...” she cleared her throat, ”...punishments.”

I blinked, once, twice, then laughed nervously, hoping I misheard her. ”Punishments?”

“P-punishments, yes.”

I turned in a circle—now looking at the ground—thinking that I was going to see dried blood splatters, given how everyone was battered and weary, but no, the ground was just as dry and sandy as I saw it before, and there weren’t any whips in any of the surrounding area. I was confused.

“And, um, what are her punishments like, usually?”

“I don’t know, sir.” She responded, dipping into a graceful bow again, “No one is allowed to observe her while she’s here.” She lowered her voice, her eyes becoming focused quite strongly on the ground in front of her. “I do know, however, that the people that come out of this field don’t usually come out uninjured.”

I was taken aback. I never would have thought of her to say something so bold, but it also didn’t strike me as a lie. She didn’t seem the type to lie. A sudden chill shivered its way up my spine.

“If that is all, I must be going now, sir. May you have the best of luck, sir.” She turned and started her way back toward the small crowd that immediately dispersed when she strode through them. I watched the skirt of her black maid’s uniform flutter behind her, then she was gone and I was alone.

Not a single minute passed before there was the abrupt scratch of wood against wood. I swiveled around to see the warden in one of the doorways, her eyes searching the yard for her victim. I had never really seen her in daylight before, and I had never seen her coming. She was actually a surprisingly attractive person. She had facial features that all fell into perfect alignment with each other and with her jet black hair that fell loose down to her hips and swayed with every move she made. She was wearing loose brown harem pants, which I didn’t normally see on girls, and a gray tunic that went just over her shoulders, then cut off, showing both of her olive-toned arms, which I also didn’t usually see on girls. In her hand was a board with paper, and in her other hand was a pen.

A memory flashed of the white-coated people surrounding me with their pens and calculated threats, and my throat went dry, all admiration of the lady’s appearance dissolving along with it. Another fact hit me at that moment—that was battle attire she was wearing.

“Ah, Itoma,” the warden’s eyes found mine and suddenly her attractiveness seemed like a Venus flytrap under the hostility of her gaze. “You showed up.”

I let a thought slip, Of course I showed up. I might have died if I didn’t.

The warden stepped down the two stairs on the porchway down to the sand, then she proceeded forward until she was two lengths away from me. I met her gaze reluctantly, and a smirk crept through her features.

My mind ran wild with thoughts powered by my adrenaline, and my mouth moved on it’s own before I knew what I was doing. “You don’t have a whip.”

What the heck? Why not just ask her to slit my throat?!

But she merely laughed, laying the board and pen on the ground. Then she clasped her fingers together and plastered her hands to her feet, her back and knees unbent.

“Um... what are you doing?” I paused, confused. “Aren’t you supposed to be punishing me?”

What was that?! Why can’t I just stop running my mouth? It’s like I want to be beaten!

“This is your punishment, boy,” she explained, ignoring the rudeness and utter audacity of my question, “and I’d suggest you do the same. Unless you want to tear your muscles before training tomorrow, that is.”

“What...?” I asked, dipping down into a stretch obediently. But only out of fear.

“You weren’t really doing anything suspicious back at the bathhouse, were you?” She asked, her voice strained from the insanely complex stretch she was flawlessly accomplishing.

“N-no, ma’am.” I switched stretches, then frowned. She deflected my question.

“I see, and yet you’re here for punishment.” She stood up straight and planted her hands on her hips with a confident smirk. “Intriguing.”

“Uh...”

Suddenly, she bolted forward, bringing her hands up in fists bobbing in front of her chest. A combat position. I gasped, jumping back, but she was faster. She brought her fist up in an uppercut and caught my chin with a shocking force that I didn’t think possible for the size of her arms. She hopped back, bobbing on her heels.

I staggered back, clearly dumbfounded, and the warden threw her head back in a hearty laugh. “Itoma, you have a lot to look forward to, so don’t look so surprised! Go on, put up a good fight while you’re young!

“But—” I started, but then I instinctively took a simple combat position as she feigned another punch. “I don’t like fighting girls!”

Hearing this, something in her expression snapped to grim concentration as she went in for another hit, but I managed to duck before it came head-on. But she didn’t stop there. She then socked me in the stomach with her other hand and when I fell to my knees, she brought her leg up in preparation for a kick that reeked of agony just by the sight of it. “I give!” I yell, bringing my elbow up over my face. “Stop!”

Silence.

Why is she attacking me if she knows I’m innocent? Did I say something that may have upset her, or was she ordered to attack me?... Why is nothing happening?

I brought my elbow down and looked up at the warden, who was standing with her leg lowered and had a regal expression painting her features. “Gender doesn’t matter on the battlefield, Itoma. Neither do manners. When someone attacks you, man or woman, defend yourself.” She took a step back and crossed her arms. “Lesson number one.”

I stared at her incredulously. “Lesson?”

“You heard me. Now back on your feet, you have a lot to learn.” A flash of irritation crossed her face. “Especially that girls aren’t always dainty little angels.” She unfolded her arms and bolted forward even faster and more powerfully than before.

But she was holding back.

I laid on the sand, my chest heaving and arms aching from the past two hours of wrestling with the warden, who proved that women could fight just as well—or better—than men quite thoroughly. I groaned and rolled over on my shoulder, then grudgingly pushed myself to my feet.

The warden stood in front of me, not even fazed, with her arms folded to show me that she wasn’t finished.

“Done already? I have to say I’m disappointed.”

“I thought you said if I stretched I wouldn’t tear my muscles,” I sighed, rolling my shoulder. All formality was dropped within the first thirty minutes of hardcore dueling.

“Did you ever hear me promise that you wouldn’t get a few bruises?” A smile curved her lips. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, Itoma, haven’t you heard it?”

I groaned irritatedly, turning on my heel to leave, then I turned back around, knowing that I couldn’t completely forgo my formalities enough not to be excused. “Have I been sufficiently punished?”

“No.”

What?

“Am I going to have to keep fighting?!” Dread gave my voice an edge and the warden raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, but not until tomorrow. You are my student, Itoma, so ‘Warden’ isn’t a sufficient title. From now on, call me Master Romia.”

I sighed. Of course she’d make me call her master.

“While I am teaching you to properly defend yourself, you will abide by my rules, is that understood?”

I stood, a dying zombie just barely on my feet, as she picked up her board and pen from the porchway. “You shall call me by that title during lessons.” She furrowed her eyebrows for a moment, then nodded in agreement with herself. “Lessons, by the way, start precisely at the second bell each day.” She turned around to leave.

“Ward—er, Master Romia, what do you mean by lessons?” I asked. “Why are lessons punishment?”

“They aren’t. It’s because I believe you have come to Naihabi Ridge without the knowledge to support you.” She looked down at her pen with grim bearings. “I know you aren’t ready because I know precisely who you are,” She looked over her shoulder at me, then turned back around and started toward the building in which she came. “And precisely what you’re missing.”

“And precisely what you’re missing...”

I gasped, earning a few curious glances from the people next to me at the breakfast table. I couldn’t believe how long it took me to realize what the wa—Master Romia meant. I stared down at the bread on my plate, not knowing how I could have missed an answer that had been screeching in my face through the whole night. She must mean Lillian!

“Hey, Avi, you gonna eat that?” Lindo, my partner in the previous day’s exercises, sat at my left, pointing at the small pile of peas next to my bread.

“Sorry, but I am. You want the bread instead?” I really had no interest in food at that moment, but I knew I had to eat something or I’d starve before getting a chance to confront Master Romia.

“Nah, that part’s all yours.” He cringed. No one wanted the bread. Almost everyone would rather chew on a brick than have to polish off the accident that ended up on our plates every morning.

“Carcerus, Lindo!” A deep, baritone voice called from the front of the warehouse, catching the attention of everyone in the room. I looked at my neighbor quizzically, but found that his expression was just as confused as my own. I looked at some of the faces around me and realized with growing discomfort that the only thing they had in common was dread. “You have hereby been summoned to the southern courtyard. If you do not come by the fifth bell, we will proceed with collection.”

Collection. The word echoed in my head, and the meaning of it brought dread to my own features as well. There is a chance that we will be summoned, but none of us return, and none of us know what it really is... Oriole’s words echoed like a death knell through my mind and I shuddered, what little appetite I had dissolving into the shiver that settled in my hands.

“Oh no,” Lindo breathed, his face stricken, and he shot me a panicked look, “Avi, what am I supposed to do?... I can’t...”

I stared back at him and saw my own horror reflected in his eyes, then I broke eye contact and fixed my gaze instead on my plate and felt a terrible sickness tearing at the pit of my stomach. “I... don’t know...”

I heard him let out a ragged breath as he wrapped his hands around his head and got to his feet, then he left the table silently and no one stopped him. It was as if I could hear the thoughts of the people around me meld into one voice inside my head: Don’t go near him now or you’ll be infected.

The rest of the meal went on in silence, and I didn’t eat another bite off my plate. Then it was work, and I was glad to have something to keep my mind away from the subject that became, in a single moment, the most taboo word in the dictionary. Throughout the whole morning, no one mentioned the incident over breakfast, and I didn’t dare become the first. And, after somehow making my way through the whole morning without getting sick, I heard the second bell ring, and a task I thought got buried in the dreaded taboo that filled what I thought was every moment resurfaced. Master Romia.

I ran toward the field that Thirré had led me to the day before, and the thought of what Master Romia would do when I arrived late kept ringing at the back of my mind and sending chills down my spine, striking my feet to go faster forward.

I turned the last corner and heard voices. I skidded to a reluctant stop, then looked over the edge of the fence into the courtyard where my lesson was supposed to be held. Master Romia stood near the building, and someone shorter stood next to her, her rigid back telling me she was at least a little nervous to be there. I listened to their voices and furrowed my brow bemusedly.

The smaller girl was Oriole. Why was she talking privately with the warden again?

I sighed, deciding I couldn’t risk going to the temper tantrum’s office again for who know what, and backed up a few steps, then sprinted into the field pretending I hadn’t listened in on a portion of their conversation and had a chance to catch my breath after running a fifty lengths. I planted my hands on my knees, then glanced up at the warden expectantly.

“I’m sorry for being so late,” I panted, faking tiredness, “it won’t happen again.”

“Come back in four bells,” I heard Master Romia say under her breath toward Oriole, who was utterly shocked for some reason. “Itoma, shall we begin?”

The lesson was short and Master Romia was distracted, making me suspicious of her thoughts. Curiosity was a double-edged blade, but once the lesson was over, I couldn’t help but start scheming on how I would find their conversation, and two bells later, that was exactly where I was—in that same field, plastered behind the gate listening for the entrance of Oriole to the warden’s office. By this time, it was just before the sixth bell and the sun was setting in the west at an alarming rate, making the dusty ground around me glow orange with the reflection of the blood-red sky above. I shuddered, remembering the last time I saw the sky that shade of red. The village fire flew, a bloody rose of death, through the sky, tainting the sky crimson. The whole world was crimson that night.

The creak of Master Romia’s door brought me back to the hot sand and the peaceful sunset. I held my breath as I heard the warden welcome her.

“To you as well, Miss Warden.” Oriole replied.

“Let’s get straight to the point. The transmutation?”

Transmutation?

“They are getting clever in hiding it, Warden. I believe they’ve concocted a new code.”

I heard the warden grumble a curse under her breath. The mood was tense, and it took an amount of effort to release my breath again. I also released the muscles in my legs that had tensed themselves and were giving me cramps. I wonder where they’re going with this?

“Oriole, do you know whether or not you-know-who has made another move?”

“Yes.” She responded in a low voice. “Lindo Carcerus was summoned this morning—”

“And did he go?”

“Yes, and I believe—”

At that moment, there was a loud knock on the door. I pressed my back harder up against the wall in anticipation. I didn’t think anyone else would be coming. And I didn’t think Oriole and Master Romia knew, either.

“Warden Celive Romia,” a deep voice rumbled from the porch. I sucked in a breath; that was the same baritone from that morning at breakfast. “Major Balbaeus Hube requesting your time. Is the refugee Oriole currently in your presence?”

“No, Major.”

“I see. I have been ordered to search the vicinity no matter your response, so I must enter, Warden Romia.”

I heard the warden curse to herself again, then I heard what I assumed was her standing up, walking over to the door, then a silent commotion of rustling and resistance. Alarmed, I looked over the side of the fence to see what was happening and gasped. The warden had a cloth over the major’s mouth and nose, and he fell unconscious into her arms, then she started dragging him under the arms into the office.

“And so you shall, Major,” Master Romia grunted as she managed to get the major fully inside her office, leaving the door ajar.

I held my breath, trying to decide what to do. Should I intervene?

Well, whatever I was going to do, I only had about fifteen seconds to do it.

Oriole

I stared, wide-eyed, as the warden dragged the major that had just interrupted our conversation across the floorboards toward the chair in the corner of the room. I wasn’t expecting him to demand entrance, but I hadn’t anticipated the warden drugging him, either. The warden propped him up in the chair, then shot me a glare. Taken aback, I blurted, “Did I do something to give us away?” in the most level tone I could manage, tried my best to keep my posture professional, then averted my eyes from her gaze.

She sighed. “No, at least I don’t think so.” She walked over and sat back down. “They’ve just been getting more perceptive, meaning that we have to take a step forward, as well. From now on, keep your eyes open and never speak out of line, especially when in public.”

“What? Does that mean I’m being watched even when I’m alone?”

“Most probably. Besides, there’s something I need to show you. Follow me.” She got to her feet and walked over to the door, still cracked open, and gestured for me to come along. I hurried over to her, slipped through the doorway and out onto the porch, then she locked the door behind us, leaving us in the darkness of the new night. I sighed. Because of the new moon, it was going to be a real trek through darkness to keep up with the warden. I followed her out of the yard and through the fence and I tensed, suddenly struck with the unnerving feeling of being watched. I guess I’ll have to get used to this if I’m never really going to be alone, won’t I?

I kept walking, saying nothing and silently hoping that we were not going anywhere super secretive. The warden led me through so many turns that I eventually lost count and the sand around me became unfamiliar and unwelcoming. What could we possibly have been doing in such an area? I thought the four quarters of Naihabi Ridge were pretty much identical, and I had memorized the whole southern area, but this was nothing like it. Everything was switched and confusing.

“Where are we going?” I asked after forever, finally unable to hold it.

“You’ll find out.” The warden answered absently just as we were approaching a large, warehouse-like building.

I stared at the structure, paused, then realized—the breakfast building...?

“Here..?”

The warden looked down. “Yes here. Come along, we’re not there yet.”

Everything fell together rather nicely, and I understood exactly where we were going. We went inside the large door as quietly as we could, then straight through the rows of long tables all the way to the far back, where she stopped. I followed suit, peered over her shoulder, then stepped forward, seeing a patch of wood on the bottom of the wall in the corner. No one would notice it if they weren’t searching for it, but it was as light as day if they were. It gave me mixed feelings, as it always did, and made my back uneasy.

“You know what this is, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Right.” She huffed. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” I held my breath, hoping she wouldn’t lash out at me for stopping us when we had such a limited time for action. “I’ve been feeling this presence following us for a while now”—she tensed and I resisted the urge to flinch—“do you think it’s still a good idea to go in?”

She stood there for a second just staring at the trapdoor, then she sighed. “I’ve had the same feeling, actually, and I was hoping it was just my exhaustion catching up to me.” Her voice was just low enough so that I could hear her and it wouldn’t echo through the empty space engulfing us, but her words sunk in. So it wasn’t my imagination. We were being pursued.

Suddenly, the warden swiveled around to face the entrance which we had left open for light—a fool’s mistake. She was next to me, her gaze strong and determined, and then she wasn’t. I took a double, stumbling back in surprise. What?

Then there was a loud crash and a thud at the other side of the warehouse. I sprinted forward, my hair on end, and saw the warden pinning someone to the ground in the shadow. With a gasp, I rushed forward, but a jerk of the warden’s head stopped me. Who is that? Why won’t the warden let me forward? Why is someone pursuing us so late in the night anyway?! My mind blew up with bubbling questions that itched my tongue and tempted my hands, but I held myself back with much effort and I watched, unable to recognize anything more than their silhouettes as the warden let the figure up, their hands pinned behind their back, and she stepped out of the shadow. The figure seemed reluctant, but with a tug on the wrists, stepped out into the moonlight.

My eyes widened and I suppressed a gasp. Slim figure—almost feminine, but had just enough brawn to get around the Ridge—he was taller than me by several inches, but I recognized the youthful face, as if his light blue eyes had seen more daylight than darkness, and his light, chestnut-colored hair that went loose and scruffy around the nape of his pale neck. It was Avi.

I held my breath and stayed perfectly still, some part of me going deer and hoping if I stayed still he wouldn’t see me. But it didn’t work. He looked at the ground with an unreadable expression and didn’t seem surprised to see me. Why would he be? He was just following us...

My brain was confused, to say the least. I eventually had to let my breath go, then it was really hard not to gasp.

“You know Itoma?” The warden judged my reaction with a raised eyebrow.

Why do I feel so paralyzed?

“Why is your face red? Are you alright?”

I can’t move!

She sighed, looking back at Avi. “And why are you here?” She paused. “Oh, right. I suppose you must have overheard us earlier and just decided to tag along. Is that it?”

Avi looked as if he wanted to bury his head in the sand and never come out, but he answered reluctantly. “Yes, Master Romia.”

Master Romia. Time stopped, giving my brain just enough time to combust with one question. What?

“Hm. Curiosity killed the cat, it seems.” The warden unbound Avi’s wrists go and let out a breath. “Well, it can’t be helped. I can’t say I didn’t have it coming, and I suppose you were going to find out anyway, so now of never, I guess.” She shrugged. “You come along with us, then.”

I walked like a robot in the back of the trio with Avi and the warden ahead of me. I was glad they weren’t focused on me because something was wrong. I couldn’t breath right, I couldn’t look Avi in the eyes, and I seemed so tense. What was wrong with me and what did it have to do with Avi Itoma?

We stopped in front of the trapdoor, and I noticed for the first time that the uneasy feeling of being followed had finally ceased, replaced with this much worse unrecognized feeling. This is bad. How am I supposed to be on my guard when I’m still mourning the loss of my brain?

The warden opened the trapdoor with a loud creak, but I barely noticed until a voice pulled me out of my daze. “Oriole, was it?”

It was Avi.

“Are you okay?”

Not thinking, I sputtered what first came to my head, which ended up being a sharp “I’m fine.”

I instantly wanted to bury myself in poisonous crabs—which there just happened to be a large amount of at the Ridge—but I managed to keep a straight face and climb in the tunnel the trapdoor led to.

It was going to be a long night.

Avi

The hallway the trapdoor led to was so long I thought it would never end, not to mention I hadn’t completely healed from the humiliation and stupidity of my failure after being caught, but after what seemed like an eternity, the misery of being alone with my shame finally led out to a wide room. It was like a cave. The walls were dirt and there was a very earthy smell to it, and I thought back, remembering how there was a slight decline in the tunnel. Of course. We were in a cave, or more accurately, a dugout. In the middle of the room was a large table, but no seats. There were around ten people lingering around the space, some obviously uneasy, others merely polite and slightly shy. I furrowed my brow. Most of them were men. Older men, which seemed unusual considering I had only ever seen one older man while at the ridge. The men kept talking while we entered, paying the warden no particular interest as she brought along with her two new people. Or perhaps they already knew who we were.

“Warden Celive, anything to report?” A younger-sounding voice addressed the warden. I looked over to see who was talking to her and was confused to find one of the older men speaking. I brushed it off with a confused shrug, thinking it was either my imagination or a misunderstanding of some kind.

“We have a new member.” I stared at the back of Master Romia’s head as she spoke, my interest rising, then she turned around and yanked me forward by the shoulder of my tunic, which was dirty from the day’s activities. Heat rose to my face. “His name is Avi, and the last name, as always, is classified. Oriole is back as well, with nothing to report.”

“I see.” The man said again in a voice that belonged to a person in their twenties. “Proceed with the care of caution at your heels.”

I walked forward warily behind the warden as she strode forward, her posture showing stature and demanding respect. I furrowed my brows, glancing behind me one last time at the odd-voiced man. Something’s not right here...

We went to the back of the room, where Master Romia then leaned on the earthy wall and pulled us onto the wall next to her.

“Look casual.” she hissed in a whisper that wouldn’t carry. “Or you’ll face me later.”

A chill ran down my back, and I saw Oriole stiffen noticeably in the corner of my eye. I rolled my shoulders, attempting to loosen my stiff muscles. It didn’t work.

I leaned against the wall in the middle of Oriole and the warden and waited for whatever reason for several minutes, then, my mind about ready to explode from held-up adrenaline and anticipation, I followed Master Romia’s gaze over to one of the old men who seemed like he was also waiting, a cup of dark red liquid in his hand. He sipped it regally, his dead-serious gaze working its way around the room, then it met our group and my stomach leapt up and lodged itself in my throat. He had dark grey, almost black hair, and a glare of thunder that shot through light grey eyes. He looked like he killed someone, or worse, though my mind didn’t happen to go through the trouble of thinking of what could be worse than killing. I loosened my features, forming a stone face that felt so unnaturally like my father’s that I had to resist the urge to pinch myself.

The man’s gaze held on the warden, then he started making his way through the room to her and in three strides he was in front of our group. He stood there for a second, but his eyes were stoic and the grey of his irises was like thunder: threatening, but merely an echo of his full potential. I shuddered and instantly dreaded the possibility of me catching his attention, though I shrank back as much as being under the warden’s attention would allow in the hopes that that specific horror wouldn’t happen.

Don’t notice me. Don’t notice me.

His eyes met mine and my stomach, still located in my throat, decided to go rogue and try to escape completely. I wish I were in bed like a good camper right now!

“So this is your new apprentice, Celive?” His voice was dark and young. Why was it young? What was this?

“Yes. Is there anything else you require from me?” Master Romia stood, her back in perfect straightness and her chin high, holding the man’s gaze with admirable nonchalance for several seconds, then I watched as he let out an almost inaudible breath.

“You always were hard to get, but this time, it’s not you I require something from,” his eyes glanced from the warden to me again, and my breath caught. “It’s him.”

There was a pause. I stared, Master Romia stared, Oriole stared, and most of all, the man stared. At me. I thought I was going to die, but then the moment was over and my insides flipped back over to their rightful position in my gut, even though collapsing still sounded way too tempting.

Master Romia met my eyes and nodded, then the man stepped forward and motioned for me to follow him. I wanted to cry.

We went to the other side of the dugout where the others couldn’t here us, and the man turned around and folded his arms. “Who are you?”

“What?” Why isn’t that my question? Unsaid words stung at my throat.

“What is your name?”

A phrase my father used to tell me echoed through my head, don’t give strangers your name. Especially if they ask.

I gulped. What was I supposed to do? He clearly asked me, but it would be extraordinarily rude to deny him...

I sputtered the first name that came to my head, “Alphonse...” I paused. ”...Itoma... Alphonse Itoma.”

My father’s name. What a lie.

“Itoma, eh?” He raised both eyebrows like that’s something peculiar and heat rose to my face again. “I’ve only heard that name on one person... What is your father’s name?”

Dang it.

I grasped at straws, desperately praying that it didn’t backfire and completely scream I’m a lying bale of hay!

“I—I don’t have a father...”

He looked taken aback, then awkward. “I see.” He cleared his throat, regaining his iron composure. “I am Grengal... and,” he paused shortly, lowering his rumbling voice to a quiet tone. “It’s unsafe to give your last name. I will forget it, don’t worry, but everyone here goes on a one name basis because first names help to keep things quiet.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage. Where did Master Romia take me? And what about Oriole? How was she in on it? Thoughts threatened to burst through my mouth to anybody who cared to listen, but one glance at Grengal’s thunder eyes set me straight. I tightened my lips securely.

“Celive,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck. “She, uh, well...”

I listened intently.

“Well, she kind of has a secret. And... if you’re her apprentice, I was kind of wondering if you knew it yet...” he looked at my skeptical gaze and added, “I know it, I was just thinking that it would only be fair if you knew, too.” His face straightened and he took a breath, and his eyes were pure iron again. “The point is, do you know what you’re getting into, kid?”

Then it was my turn to be taken aback. Getting into? What did he mean?

Grengal saw my reaction and sighed. “So you don’t, then. Well it is what it is and now you’re not gonna get back out of it, so it’s all or nothing.” He drew in a breath, then said his next line in a slow, steady voice, and I was still surprised to hear his young tone speak from elderly lips. “Celive has been meaning to tell you that we’ve been researching something... interesting. Do you know where you are?”

“A dugout.”

“A dugout, yes, but this one is for a certain group of people researching a certain thing,”

I saw a glint in his eye and I instinctively took a step back, but he stepped forward and placed both his hands heavily on my shoulders. I squeaked, my eyes wide.

“Kid, you don’t know what you’ve gotten into, so I’ll tell you. It’s the people running this place.”

My mind fell silent of my many countless fears to listen. What did he mean?

“They’ve been up to something, and it’s not good.”

Avi

I left the tunnel with a trail of thought far different from when I came. I was no longer curious about the voices of the men in the dugout more than I was starving for answers to Grengal’s last sentence before Master Romia came to bid our farewells. Oriole strode behind me and the warden was in front of me. I was stuck in the middle again, with no way of escape.

Why was I thinking of escaping?! I lost myself in my curiosity and forgot that we were just in what may have been the most dangerous place I’d ever been in. I should just forget what that Grengal guy said. How would he know anything about Master Romia?

The end of the tunnel came quicker than I remembered, and then we were in the dark of the eastern breakfast building again. How come I never noticed that trapdoor there before? The answer came to me like sour milk. It was probably because I had never tried searching, especially after Lindo’s summoning that morning.

No one talked as we made our way back to the warden’s office. The air was moist with darkness, and there were several times I heard rustling nearby, but neither of my captors seemed to notice. I followed the warden, and as we crossed the eastern-southern line, things became less familiar. We took an unfamiliar route to the warden’s quarters, and though I tried to remember the twists and turns, I could not, and so I followed blindly all the way up until we arrived in the warden’s sandy courtyard. We went up the steps of the porchway and, with the familiar wooden creak from the door, entered Master Romia’s quarters.

It was tidy above all, and a little typical. There was very little in the room; just her desk, a chair in front of and behind the desk, and a small cabinet in the corner with a vase on top. Tidy and plain. I could imagine her taking to this nicely. But in order to fully meet my expectations, there would have to be a whip on the desk.

“Itoma,” Master Romia addressed me sternly. I jumped, swiveling around to face her. “Don’t expect tonight to go unpunished. You may return immediately and directly to your sleeping cabin.”

I stared at her, stunned. I had almost forgotten that I was still a refugee prisoner here.

“Well? Do you understand?”

I swung my hand up to my shoulder in the respect-superior sign, and she sighed. “Just don’t think you’ll get away with it again. Do you understand?”

“Ye-yes, Master Romia!” I abruptly turned my heels and made for the courtyard.

Sleeping that night went slowly and painfully, and the sleep I did manage to conjure was hollow, only for me to wake up covered in cold sweat from the nightmare it brought me. It felt like an eternity, but soon enough, I saw the tint of the sun on the horizon and flung my covers aside without hesitation, grateful for the excuse to be out of the musky cabin. I rushed to the bathhouse and took my time until others who couldn’t sleep started filing in, then I lingered in the locker room instead. Wherever didn’t have noise and people. I wanted to relish the privacy and silence as much as I could before I’d get stuck with training and the bustling breakfast table.

There was another summoning at breakfast. That seemed to be when they did it, two days in a row. The guy picked was one of the top trainees. His name was Jukkav Brechlevat and he had broad shoulders and a strong, confident voice, and though I didn’t know him very well, I knew his absence would linger in training for a long time.

Throughout the rest of the day on the field, I thought of the summonings. One male each day. What about the females? Were they getting summoned just as much as we were? That would mean two refugees each day, and no one returned. The one question remained: who was next?

Several days passed in this hazy tension. Each minute, I felt my bones and muscles ache, and each minute felt like it lasted forever in the heat with the trainers and my ever-darkening thoughts. Each day, someone was taken away from the table, and the next morning, someone would ultimately be hauled away. And through all of these, there was but one collection and no more. The refugee nearly killed himself fighting against the collectors, and everyone was there to watch. People had been getting edgy, anxious, and I couldn’t blame them, because deep down in my scarred emotions, I felt it too. I was nervous, and after training every day, I would still go to Master Romia to see that even she became the slightest bit unsettled under her thick armor of strength.

What were they going to do with us?

Throughout this time, people started showing sides of themselves that I didn’t see before. Some were agitated, and some even went as far as cowering or staying up at night. I could hear them rustle in their blankets. But no one skipped breakfast. No one dared to, because it would be their last chance to see whoever wouldn’t return, and their last chance to say farewell if they were chosen. Allies became friends, and friends came closer, because no one could brave that era of anxiety alone. I found Torin tugging on my sleeve one night and he asked me a question that I couldn’t have comprehended: “If you don’t like me as a friend, just say it, but would an alliance be that much out of order?”

And so I forged an alliance with many, even if we weren’t friends. The more people who supported each other, the stronger the alliance as a whole—as well as the people included—stood.

“Pay attention!” Master Romia snapped, slicing my knee with a sweep kick. I fell over with a grunt.

It didn’t hurt that bad. Not after what seemed like so many lessons with her, but it still hurt. I got to my feet and resumed my position.

“What is with you today, Itoma? You’re getting weaker.”

“Master Romia,” I braced myself, never quite ready for her response, even though what I had to say had to be said. “A week ago, I went with you to that underground thing in the breakfast building, and I haven’t been back to it since,”

“Good.” She crossed her arms, a little surprised, but kept her wooden sword in her hand all the same. “You shouldn’t wander alone around such joints. I figured I could trust you not to go behind my back.”

“But Master Romia, the man who pulled me away to talk, his name was Grengal, and he said something... that I’d like to confirm with you.” I had to choose my words carefully or she wouldn’t take me seriously. “Grengal said you had... a secret, and...”—she narrowed her eyes and frowned—“and I was told you were studying something that you weren’t telling me about...” I cringed, waiting for her response, then finished and prepared myself for the worst. “Is that true?”

Silence. I heard only the hush of the wind across the desert and the few vultures that dared lay a wing near this place, and there was silence.

“Yes,” She said finally, and I didn’t register her response at all. “I suppose it is. I should have known Grengal wouldn’t keep a secret, the loudmouth.”

I stood there in the sand and waited for her to continue. The hot breeze rustled chestnut hair in my face and it dawned on me that she was finished speaking. She can’t be done yet!

I prompted her. “And—and that would be...?”

“Why, it wouldn’t be a secret if you knew, silly!” She smiled and lunged forward with her sword. She stabbed my ribs hard and I sputtered, falling backwards on the sand. I had pretty much formed a tolerance to the warden’s blows, but the shock of my failure kept me down. How was I suppose to respond to that kind of answer?

But soon enough, I had no choice, because the warden was standing over me with her sword raised. I rolled over in the sand as she struck, and I heard the wood whir past my ear. She wasn’t finished with me yet.

“Get to your feet, Itoma!” She yelled, swinging out a second sword from behind her back. “Or you won’t survive today.”

I yelped as she ran forward again. Some lazy part of me wanted to turn tail and run, but then I really wouldn’t survive the day. I imagined Master Romia chasing after me and shuddered, then dodged another whirring sword slice.

“Hey, how come I don’t get a sword?” I said with a frown, noticing her advantage.

“You won’t always have a weapon, Itoma, so you have to learn to stop needing them.” She sidestepped after a swing and stabbed me from beneath her other sword. It connected and I stumbled to the sand again.

“What are you keeping from me, Master Romia?” I choked from groundpoint.

“Beat me and find out!” She smiled and stopped attacking. Her breathing was excited, but not in the least bit tired.

I thought over the opportunity. I can’t afford any other option. At this rate, I could be summoned tomorrow, but I could never hope to beat her. She’s too... invincible. But...

“Okay, you’re on.”

Her smile faltered. Was she expecting me to decline? She regained her confidence and tossed me her second sword, and I fumbled with the weight. It was surprisingly heavy, considering it was almost literally a wooden rod.

Throughout all of the lessons I’d had with Master Romia, she had never allowed me a weapon before. I wasn’t sure whether to be scared or triumphant. Was I going to be pelted with my inexperience with weapons or were the countless days spent out in the wheat field enough to build up my arms to actually wield this weapon?

Not likely.

“Take position.” Master Romia barked, taking a stance that had the animosity and wildness of a viper. I shivered.

If I want answers, I need to win.

“Okay, the rules are simple: one can only win if their opponent has had their sword taken, has forfeited from further engagement, has been pinned to or stays on the ground for ten seconds, or is otherwise unable to continue the match.” The warden nodded once, then Oriole came from behind the fence, taking me completely by surprise, and stood on the porchway steps gazing somewhere I couldn’t follow, her expression professionally blank.

I frowned. I needed answers, even if it meant beating the incredibly strong, still undefeated Celive Insane-ia.

How was this going to work?

I didn’t have time to figure it out before I heard Oriole calling out, “Draw your weapons, and... begin!”

Within the millisecond, Master Romia was on top of me, bombarding me with strikes and blows that I just barely managed to deflect, though I began to doubt my sword could take it for much longer. I flinched as one connected, and I fell back a few feet, only for her to advance, giving me not a second of rest or preparation before I had to block again. How was I going to land a blow?

I blocked and blocked, looking for an opening, and then it came. A single second of recoil. I took the opportunity to bolt at her and go for a basic but affective stab to the abdomen. My eyes focused on my target, every inch of my being trying to turn my pain and aches into determination as the world around me melted away, leaving only me and my opponent.

It connected.

Master Romia fell to the ground, shocked, as her sword skittered two feet away from her hand. I lost my balance, still too surprised to regain my standing position, and I came crashing down on top of her. Our foreheads hit and my head burst out in a feeling that resembled having an anvil dropped on my skull. I clenched my teeth, closing my eyes, and rolled off of her. I took a few deep breaths, knowing that when I opened my eyes, she would be mid-strike, her fury at full power, and got to my knees, figuring out how to word my surrender. I opened my eyes and gasped, falling back down to a sitting position.

Oriole stood over Master Romia, who was lying motionless on the ground. Oriole raised her eyebrows and glanced up at me matter-of-factly. “You knocked her out.”

What?

“You win.” She said with a tint of surprise.

What in the world just happened?! I stared, my mouth agape, at the warden, then up at Oriole, who then became a light shade of red and turned away. Was she angry?

I shook my head, touching the tender bruise on my forehead. I won.

I had accidentally just beaten the strongest person I’d ever met and for some reason, I was terrified.

I sat in Master Romia’s office waiting for Oriole to return, and for every second I sat in her surprisingly comfortable guest chair, there were billions of barely unspoken questions that threatened to burst out my mouth and into the world. Bye, bye, little secrets!

I made an odd, agitated sound and crossed my arms in front of me. If Oriole doesn’t return in the next minute, I think I’m going to die.

Just then, I heard the door opening, and I jumped out of my chair so fast that it fell to the floor with a crash. I cringed, feeling embarrassed that I had let my impatience get the best of me, but didn’t avert my gaze from the door. It opened slowly—which was surprising considering I could be certain whoever was behind the door had heard that obscenely loud crash—to reveal Master Romia, alone, with no bandage of any kind. She gave the room a befuddled look, where her gaze stuck on the chair, then looked at me, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth slightly agape like she was genuinely confused as to what could make such a noise in a practically empty office.

“Was... was that you?” She closed the door behind her and stood straighter and more regally.

I gulped and nodded, looking back down at the chair.

“Then please pick up my chair from the floor.” She said the words with restraint, like she was holding something back.

Anger. It struck me with a cold shiver, and I waited for her to take a seat before I sat down.

Master Romia put both her hands on the desk in front of her, took a deep breath, then sighed in defeat. “You did it.You actually, really did it.”

I folded my hands on my lap and waited contently to get to the subject.

“It’s a little funny because I never thought you’d capable of victory, even if it was just chance,” I opened my mouth to speak, a little offended, but then shut it. She would stop soon enough. “I thought for sure you’d be the one lying on the ground unconscious.”

I bit my tongue, my foot beginning a fast tap on the floor.

“Anyway, what is it you needed answers to?”

I sat up straighter, cleared my throat, and spoke as confident as I could, the irritation of Master Romia’s indirect and probably accidental insults only acting as fuel to my confident façade. “I would like to know what you’ve been studying that you haven’t been telling me, and what the people running this place are doing.”

This made her face darken and she took her hands off the table. “A deal is a deal, then, but under one condition: these words will never leave this room, you hear?”

I nodded once, the unanswered questions buzzing around my head like insects.

“Good. The truth is, we don’t actually know what they’re doing. That’s what we’ve been trying to find out,” she saw my look and a grim smile met her lips. “Yeah, I guess you don’t know who we are. By ‘we’, I mean me, the men from that dugout in the east quarter, and Oriole. As much as I tried to stop that girl, she never backed off, so now she’s stuck in this murder case.”

My eyes widened and she chuckled.

“That’s what some of us think they’re doing, anyway. There are still a lot of loopholes in our conspiracies.”

“And what are you going to do now?” I asked incredulously, expecting more of an explanation. “They’ve been taking people daily, and soon we won’t have anyone left.”

“That’s the problem. We can’t actually get near enough to find anything out, so we’re practically sitting ducks, but sooner or later we’re going to have to put it all on the line or we’ll all go under. It’s like you said, kid, whatever they’re doing that somehow involves us, they hit it good—”

“Wait, wait, so did you ever plan to tell me this?”

She raised her eyebrows and tapped her finger on the table absently. “I don’t believe I would have, considering I never thought you’d win and the fact that I was originally unwilling to let you join my group of investigators and underground rebels. The facts should tell you as much.”

I sat back in the chair and started tapping my foot instinctively, hoping she’d just continue without me telling her to, since I had taken the subject.

She cleared her throat, taking the hint, and continued. “As I was saying, there is one thing we are confident about, and it’s that the higher-ups here are definitely up to no good.”

I stopped tapping my foot and stared at Master Romia, who then pursed her lips and returned my probing stare. She definitely had something she wasn’t telling me.

“Master Romia,” I though about what I would say, putting a colossal amount of effort into trying to word it so she wouldn’t turn me down. “If... if you had to take your best guess at what those people are doing, what would it be?”

“Wow. Didn’t expect that.” She stood, pushing her chair back, and walked around the desk so she stood directly to my right. “Itoma, why do you want to know so much about my group and what we’re looking into?”

I stared up at her, wide-eyed, and I lost my train of thought completely. “What?”

She sighed and turned around, putting her hand to her forehead. “Nevermind, just...” she turned back around and met my stare with the eyes of an eagle. “Just don’t pry into things that don’t concern you.”

I stared at the sand as I walked back toward the sleeping cabin. It was already dusk and Torin would be wondering where I was, though I chuckled, remembering how he was almost in tears the last time I came back late, then I sighed.

She didn’t spill.

How was I going to convince Master Romia to talk? I didn’t have very much time until eventually, inevitably, I would be the one summoned, so I had to make a plan, or there wouldn’t be anyone left to be summoned. Then what would those freaks do? Obviously, I thought, they would have to shut this place down. But then what?

I shook my head as I came up on the cabin. Torin came to greet me and asked where I was. I told him I was with Master Romia, and nothing more was said. I had told him about Master Romia’s lessons, since it wouldn’t do me any good to keep them from him and about how she was such a good fighter, but other than that, he knew nothing. I knew it was unfair that I never told him about my family or any of the twisted plot that was going down, what with how much he trusted in me, but I also knew that it was better he just didn’t know. He didn’t need to know my sob-story—he would get all soft about it, and telling him about the dugout and Oriole’s involvement with the Ridge’s plot would just make him worry even more, and that poor guy didn’t need any more worry. I felt bad about all of the summonings, but Torin knew all of those people. He treated everyone at the Ridge like family. I couldn’t imagine loosing my family like that. I couldn’t imagine loosing my family at all. Not ever again.

“Itoma, are you doing okay?” Harris, one of the people I had made a pact with, said worriedly. “You look pale.”

“Doesn’t he always look pale?” Someone from the back of the room yelled. A few people snickered and I sighed.

“I’m fine, and just so you know, Person-In-The-Far-Corner-Bunk, from where I come from, my skin is actually fairly tanned.” I looked down at my arm to make sure. It was true. I wasn’t pale, and to be specific, my skin had darkened dramatically since I had arrived at the Ridge, though it wasn’t surprising that a lot of people here were darker than me. They had probably come from sunnier places than the far, heavily-forested north.

I walked past the few people who were out of bed to my own bunk, where Torin had already situated himself. I climbed the metal bars up to the top bed and plopped down, my thoughts once again wandering to the courtyard and to Master Romia’s office, and I rolled over, my face drowning in the scratchy pillow, and groaned. How would I ever make it to sleep if I couldn’t stop thinking about actually winning for once and still coming out beaten? She had beaten me with mere words. I didn’t get more than a single, almost useless answer out of her, and then she somehow turned things over and started asking me questions.

With these discomforting thoughts swirling through my head, I drifted off, exhausted after a long day, only to be plagued by nightmares filled with fires and explosions, of dark-faced smiles and halfhearted words, and then, finally, to hard, grueling work in the sun, where many perished and were set to war against each other. After I had died in the dream, I awoke and went to shower, since it was nearly morning. My sleep was shallow, which was to be expected of a nightmarish darkness, and it felt like no time at all until other people started filing in. I took my leave and started for the breakfast building when I saw a guy there who looked like he was praying, and suddenly I remembered where I was going to. It was another morning where someone would disappear. Suddenly, prayer didn’t sound so out of the ordinary.

I walked in and was met with the disturbed silence that came along with the summonings. I sat down and waited. I didn’t think I would be able to eat even if I wanted to, and so I laid my head on my arms, which were folded on the table, and sighed. For how long would this have to go on?

After a while, people started getting food, and Torin came and sat next to me. Nothing was said between us. Nothing needed to be said, for everything on both of our minds was already explained, and in what seemed like no time at all, the baritone man was at the front of the room and the tables had gone silent, just like yesterday and the weeks before that. I looked at my lap and thought of Master Romia to pass the time while the man brought up his paper that signaled someone’s summoning.

Answers. I needed answers, and how was I going to get those out of Master Romia? Would I have to beat her again for another explanation? I had done it once, but that was just dumb luck. How could I ever hope to do it again?

I paused, feeling an odd presence, and looked at the people sitting around me for some sort of explanation, and my eyes widened. They had that look. The gaze full of pity and guilt. It was that stare that meant...

“Itoma, Avi!” the baritone death note rung through the room for apparently the second time. “You have hereby been summoned to the southern courtyard. If you do not come by the fifth bell, we will proceed with collection.”

I stared at the table in front of me in disbelief, hoping that if I waited long enough, everyone would just disappear and I’d wake up in my room in my home back up north, until Torin shook my shoulders. “Avi, talk to me,”

I looked up at him and became really mad for some reason. I knew he was just being considerate, but I didn’t particularly care in that moment, so I shoved his arm away and stood up, and my hands folded into fists without any effort. I made for the open doors, but someone was in the aisle with their tray. I strutted forward and shoved him to the side and I kept going as I heard his tray crash behind me. Some part of me felt like turning around and apologizing to the whole room for my rude behavior, but another part—a bigger part—felt a twisted satisfaction. They got to stay here while I’m taken away.

It’s only right for someone to even things out.

+++

I have less than a bell. Less than one bell until the abyss that comes after that claims me. Less than one bell until I really won’t know what will happen. One bell until it all comes to an end, either through release from Naihabi Ridge or death.

I sat, holding my legs up to my chest, leaning on the gate to Master Romia’s courtyard, and buried my head in my knees. I had completely succumbed to the idea of death at the gong of the bells until I looked up and found the temper tantrum’s maidservant standing in front of me with a surprised expression.

She stepped back and bowed politely. “I’m very sorry to have interrupted you, sir. Please forgive me, I was in the middle of an errand for my master.”

I stared up at her, still surprised to have found anyone here at this time. “Er, yeah, I guess...”

How awkward...

“If you would excuse me, sir, I need to continue my errand.” She turned to go, but for some reason I wanted her company, so I reached forward and tugged on her sleeve. She nearly jumped out of her stockings, then turned around and bowed again deeply. “I deeply apologize for my in—”

“Don’t leave me.”

The words went through my mind and straight out my mouth before I registered how creepy that must sound. I let go of her sleeve immediately and proceeded to burrow my face into my knees for mental support.

This is so embarrassing.

She didn’t say anything for a long while. She just stood, from the sound of it, and stared. I could feel her stare on me, and heat rose to my face quickly, making me want to dig my head deeper into my knees and just, I don’t know, turn into a little ball and roll away, but since that wasn’t going to happen, I knew, sooner or later, that I would have to unbury my head from my pantlegs.

“Very well,” I looked up at her as she took hold of her skirts and sat down in the sand in front of me. She folded her hands on her lap and smiled warmly. “But only for a while. My master will only wait for so long.”

An image of the tantrum, purple-faced and yelling, found itself in my mind’s eye, and I suddenly felt bad for keeping her.

Her, I thought, suddenly much more awkward than before. What was her name again?

“Would you like me to talk about anything, sir?”

I looked at her, biting my lip and trying from the very depth and corners of my mind to remember her name. “Your, uh... your name is... Tara...?”

She smiled again and chuckled. “My name is Thirré, sir. It was very kind of you to try to remember me.”

“Of course...” I tried to remember how I was even sentenced to the tantrum’s quarters in the first place, but that came much easier and soon I was cringing from the sheer audacity of my old plans.

“Are you alright, sir?” Thirré asked, mildly worried, but when I looked up at her, she was staring at something behind me in Master Romia’s courtyard. That was odd... I had already had my last session with her...

I turned around to see what she was looking at, and I saw quite quickly that Oriole was standing closely over my shoulder. I yelped, scrambling backwards a few feet in surprise, and she yelped too, stepping back at my reaction, and Thirré, who was behind me, started giggling at our reactions.

Oriole caught her breath and sighed, suddenly on her more usual, rocky side of less emotion than more. “I would like to know why you’re in the southern quarter so late in the day, Itoma.”

But unlike her, I had not yet recovered from my shock, and so I just sat and gaped, then her cheeks became red and she lowered her head so her long, black hair covered her face. I eventually faded back to my senses enough to stop staring. “I, uh, was...”

What was I doing? I was mourning. Pitying myself. That’s what I was doing.

I got to my feet, turned around, and walked away. Thirré rushed after me, but I started walking faster until I was running away. I didn’t know where I was going, just that my legs were longer than theirs. I didn’t even know why I was running until I showed up at precisely the wrong building at precisely the wrong time.

The summoning courtyard.

The sand blew in my eyes in hot gusts, but I couldn’t stop staring at the building. I didn’t even notice when Oriole caught up and started shaking my shoulders.

“Itoma!”

The building was made of the same wood as the rest of the Ridge, but it had a certain aura about it that sent chills down the spines of anyone who dared enter its perimeters. It was simply terrifying.

“Itoma!”

My eyes followed the steps of the porchway to a huge dent in one of the support poles. It must have been damaged by someone struggling. I wasn’t surprised. It had but one window on each side of the single, wooden door, and—

A clapping noise met me with a stinging on my cheek. I started, finally looking down at Oriole, who had her hand up. “Itoma, get a hold of yourself!”

She had slapped me. It wasn’t meant to hurt because I barely felt it, but it got my attention.

“What’s wrong with you?” She glared up at me, her eyebrows furrowed and her chest heaving as she panted from chasing me. “Why did you run away all of a sudden?”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t know the answer, so how could I reply? The answer came to me and I stepped back as Oriole’s hand, which was still on my shoulder, fell to her hip.

“This is where I’m supposed to be now.” I sidestepped and began walking past her.

“What do you mean?” She said, then she took in a sharp breath of realization.

“This is where I’m supposed to be.” As I said it, the bells started to chime. It was blissful, in a way. I didn’t know how, but saying those words and hearing the sounds all fit together in some twisted clockwork that actually made me feel calm. Distantly, I heard the running footsteps of Thirré as she caught up, but they didn’t stop me from moving toward the wooden steps. Not until I heard her voice did I pause.

“You don’t belong there!” She yelled in a high-pitched voice across the courtyard. “Where you belong is gone,”

My eyes widened, but I didn’t turn around.

“Avi Itoma, you don’t belong anywhere. This isn’t your home! Your home was destroyed along with everyone else’s,” I heard her voice crack, but she continued. “You think you’re special? Like you’re the only one who lost what meant the most to you?” She took in a shaky breath and shouted, “Well you’re not! I lost everything! Minaka lost everything, your friend—the tall guy—he lost it all too! You think you’re alone where you’re going? You’re not, so stop pitying yourself like a spoiled brat!”

I swiveled on my heels and saw her as she fell to her knees, her breaths heavy, desperation entangled in her light green eyes. “But where you’re going... you’re never going to leave... I know.” Tears streaked her cheek. “They’ll never let you go.”

I stared at her, my eyes wide, and my whole body went numb.

“What?” Oriole breathed.

But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move, and I couldn’t stop the men who came out from behind me and dragged me inside that wooden door and into the darkness.

Black. It is often referred to as a cursed color by the friars, but really it is not a color at all. Black is the lack of color, so why must it be called a color when that is what it is least? Black is the oblivion that cannot be felt with hands or eyes or ears, but only by the soul. When a soul feels blackness, the heart yearns for something it has lost, but cannot get back again. When the soul feels blackness, something deep down, even if the physical mind does not notice, is irreparably broken.

So why do I feel blackness?

I opened my eyes to the darkness. I was sitting on a wooden chair in a dark room with no noise, no movement, no feeling.

There was blackness everywhere.

I didn’t remember losing consciousness, and I didn’t remember how I got to the room, either. The air was moist and my skin was damp, and for some reason it was cold. I hadn’t felt cool air in months, and it brought along with it a tempting nostalgia, but that wasn’t what bothered me. What bothered me was the dripping sound that echoed from somewhere nearby, though I couldn’t locate it using just my ears. I didn’t get out of the chair, either, though I could, as there was not anything physically holding me back. I sat as my eyes fully adjusted to the black, though it didn’t allow any more to really be seen, and waited for something to happen, for someone to save me from my thoughts.

Then I remembered. I remembered Thirré as she said all those things, and Oriole as she brought me back to reality. And where was I now? It certainly didn’t feel like reality, but then I remembered being dragged into the darkness. There was only darkness after that. Only black and the ragged breathing of the collectors as they dragged me away in my vulnerable state. Again, I didn’t struggle. Again, I did nothing as someone was taken away, but this time it wasn’t Lillian.

This time it was me.

I listened as the dripping noise became louder and more constant until it was a pour, then it stopped and there was silence. I didn’t allow fear to work itself anywhere near me, because this was nothing to be feared compared to the night raid. I sat, willing to accept anything fate had for this wrongdoer, but there was just silence and darkness. Eventually, I decided that nothing was going to happen for a very long while if I didn’t do something, so I got up out of the chair I was sitting on, though I couldn’t guarantee it was a chair, and tried inching forward. I tried, but quickly found out that upon standing up, my feet had gone numb, and I stumbled down to my knees. I felt the cold ground through the thin fabric of my pants and shivered.

I felt at the floor, which wasn’t wooden, as most of the Ridge was, and wondered what liquid was dripping seconds before, but my answer came to me as I crawled forward on all-fours and my hand met a familiar icy substance that soothed my mind through contact. I couldn’t see, but I had a creeping suspicion of the matter.

The orange liquid from the field outside Mithle...

But how? All I knew was that it either traveled with me—which was entirely possible—or it was both here and at Mithle.

I remembered the cold but soothing feeling before I went unconscious that fiery night. Any other survivors... would they have been taken to Naihabi Ridge also?

Unless I was the only one.

No, Lillian made it out. I was sure of it. She had to.

The cool liquid slithered up my arm and onto my shoulder, but I lifted my arm and flicked it, sending the gooey liquid splattering back on the floor. I got back to my feet, steadier this time, and felt forward with my foot before stepping. The liquid tried its way up my pant leg, but I flicked my leg and it retreated. Why would this liquid possibly be at Naihabi Ridge? Unless they took me away from the Ridge all together, but that was unlikely.

I stepped forward, then bumped into something and fell back a few feet. I held my breath to preserve the silence in the tension, and reached out with my hand hesitantly. I felt empty, cold air on my fingers, and I dared to move forward again. Nothing. The thing that was there was now gone.

Which meant something other than the liquid was in the room with me.

I shivered, then paused. I was sure I had heard a shuffling noise two seconds before. I swiveled around in all directions, but it didn’t do anything since I’d have been better off blind in this darkness. I stopped, my breathing heavy, and heard the shuffle again. I think I accepted that I was at least a little bit frightened at that point, so I didn’t really understand why hearing a monotonous voice didn’t seem all that surprising in that moment.

“Number 072. Consciousness confirmed.”

The silence was broken, and I was full-on ready to get my heart rate down.

“What do you want with me?” I yelled into the abyss. “What have you been doing with the rest of the people at Naihabi Ridge?”

Silence. I felt the liquid squirming up my leg, but I didn’t care. The silence dragged on, and then, “Affirmative.”

A loud shuffling followed, and then a deafening squeal hit my ears. It must have been so high a frequency that no one else could hear it, because I had been past the summoning building before and never heard it. I crumpled to the ground, pressing on both of my ears to block out the screech, but it proved futile.

“Audibility: ninety-eighth percentile.”

The sound stopped and I gasped, removing my hands from my ears. I felt a hot liquid on my palms and in my ears and my eyes widened. How much hearing had I lost just then?

Before I could process my thoughts, I felt a prick on my arm. I went to feel what it was, but my arm went numb and a tingling feeling spread throughout my body. I felt my arm while I could and yanked a circular needle-type thing out of it. I tried to throw it as far as I could, but my arm was losing its feeling and I only tossed it about five feet based on the weak clanking sound that followed, then my legs started going numb from my knees down, and I fell limp to the ground.

Paralysis?

I fought against it, tried to move, willed my mind to speak, but I laid useless on the floor. I couldn’t even do so much as to stop the orange liquid as it overcame me for the second time with its soothing chill, and then the darkness let out to the unnatural peace.

+++

A bright light shone in my eye and I cringed away from it. I attempted to turn my head and move to look around, but I felt tight belts around my shins, hips, two around my torso, and one across my forehead, which were probably meant to act as restraints.

I wasn’t sure whether I should’ve been surprised or not, considering where I had been what seemed like just moments before, which brought me to the question that had been itching at the back of my mind: where was I, exactly?

I finally managed to move my head to the side, loosening the restraint, and get my eyes away from the light that was aimed directly at my eyes as if it’s only purpose was to blind me. Then I heard the same monotonous voice from earlier as it echoed through the otherwise dark room.

“Vision: eighty-seventh percentile.”

The light flicked off, and for a fleeting moment the darkness completely overcame the space, but then everything was white and overwhelming. I couldn’t see, and my eyes stung and watered as the light surrounded me. I struggled against the belts, but they only constricted and tightened my breathing into short gasps until I had to stop to keep from passing out. The brightness was overwhelming and somehow infuriating, but I held my tongue and laid still against the restraints. They would kill me if I struggled enough.

I looked around, as far as around went with a belt across my forehead, and saw two, maybe three figures standing at the other side of the area, which was another plain white room roughly the size of my bedroom back in Mithle, and a nightmarish flashback weaved its way through my defenses.

Dark smiles, shadowed faces, and long, white coats. Super strength, monotone voices, and the first wake up call to the harshness of the world outside of home.

My breath hastened and I tried to forget, but my thoughts only darkened.

The voices, the threats, the twisted smiles.

I struggled helplessly against the restraints, and the figures noticed and walked over to the bed I was on. They looked down at me from each side of the bed, and I slowly recognized their faces, dread clouding my head and building in my stomach.

White coats, mechanic expressions, deathly intent so strong I can smell it.

I twisted and struggled against the constricting threats trying to keep me down, the pain in my chest and legs worsening with every movement, and the female monster held my right arm down with the horrifyingly familiar strength from all that time ago. I tried against my body’s will to escape, but the pain only worsened. My legs went numb, and it felt like my ribs and arms would snap if they were held any tighter, but I wouldn’t give in. I finally went still when one of the coated things brought out a glimmering silver blade. He didn’t do anything with it, but he got the message across thoroughly. I watched, each breath bringing in more air as the restraints went back to normal, as the third one brought out the same needle-type thing I had felt in the darkness, only the little cylinder attached to it was filled with the orange liquid. The liquid squirmed inside the glass and I cringed.

The coated figure brought the needle toward the arm that was held down by the other monster, and I started thinking of any final wishes. They were probably going to dispose of me using that needle, which was probably used as poison, and I would die. Was this the fate of all the rest of the people at Naihabi Ridge? What about Master Romia and her gang? What about Torin and the others in the eastern quarter?

I silently gave them all my final farewell, and I thought of my family as the needle slid into the skin of my arm, and then my body exploded in searing, unbearable pain. I screamed and writhed as the fiery agony spread instantly through my arm and down my body and into my head. Everything went fuzzy, flicking in and out of blackness, but my body kept feeling—kept conscious, as the worst desperation overcame me. I stopped hearing my own screams and the scratching of their pencils on their boards and I knew, in that moment, that I would never see through this blackness. I would never heal from this fatal wound as it tore through my body. I thrashed against the restraints as they choked me, and I wished it would end. The burning pain boiled through my blood, and I lost my breath. My mind exploded in agonizing ice while the rest of my body felt like magma. I started to feel the pain ease in my legs as they lost their feeling, and I felt the climax as it passed, and my arms went numb. I couldn’t breathe, but that didn’t matter as long as the icy lava left my body. I would do anything for it to just be over.

I gasped as my body pulsed with numbness. I felt nothing, heard nothing, saw nothing. I didn’t breathe, and I didn’t live. Was I finally done?

My sight returned, my body still numb, not to a bright light with coated figures, but to red and fiery orange and gold, then to cold blue and white and silver. They blended together, but did not clash. I watched, no longer on the bed, as a bodiless voice spoke into my deafness.

“You shouldn’t have let me into your body,” it said, without entity or emotion, as a mere echo of a thought.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t respond, but it read my thoughts. “You did not choose this, but I did not choose this, either. I merely say this to your soul as it withers, and this has happened so many times because of me. It’s tiring.”

“Who are you?” My voice found me before I found it. It was raspy and low, but it spoke.

“I am nothing. I cannot be described, but I can tell you that I am not meant to be here.”

“Where—”

“You. We are in your soul, where no one else can enter.” The voice echoed, and the wave of breathtaking colors swayed.

There was silence. I couldn’t respond. I had felt blackness in my soul before, through all of the darkness, but that was clearly not what I saw now. What was here was stunning light, swirling around as if in a pool of paint, but these were not normal colors. I couldn’t quite explain it, but these colors blended together to make even more splendid colors, when really if I were to mix orange and silver, it would not be so breathtaking at all.

“You must find a way to get me out,” the voice continued, “or I will continue to wither your soul until there is nothing left of it. That is what has happened every time I have entered a soul.”

“How many times have you done that?” I didn’t register its last sentence through all of the colors.

“Too many. It is improbable that you will be the last, unless you can get me out.” I heard a sadness seep through the afterthought, even though I couldn’t physically hear its voice. “I am a poison and a cure. I kill when I enter something physical, but I can save when I am free.”

The pace of my thoughts slowed and I started to realize just what it said. “You’ll... wither my soul?”

“I am incapable of telling lies.”

“And I’ll die?”

“If I do not leave your soul, yes.”

I froze, though I technically wasn’t moving in the first place, and suddenly the thought of death was terrifying. Why must I die when I finally find something marvelous?

It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t die now. Not now.

“You cannot dwell within your own soul for this long. You must regain your physical body and find a way to rid your soul of me.”

“Wait, can you be in more than one soul at once?” I pleaded, as the colors began to push me out. “Have you ever done it before?”

“No one has survived long enough for a second to come along. Luckily, I have discovered a way to delay my effects, giving you more time to get me out. You mustn’t wait. As soon as you regain consciousness, start searching for your cure.” The colors started fading and my senses started returning to the fiery, frigid pain. It became hard to concentrate on what it was saying. “Eighteen months is all I can give you. Use them wisely.”

Before I had time to take in another breath, the ocean of lava overcame me and I finally left consciousness behind me, entering black peace at last.