A sudden flash of warmth dismisses my fear then a sharp kraa breaks the silence. A golden bird wings overhead. I must be imagining things.
As I wander the endless emptiness, searching for civilization, hoping for the sunrise, my steps stiffen as doubt creeps in. Perhaps the sun won’t rise again. Maybe it burned out. The center of my chest chills. My eyes dip closed.
I pull a protein bar from my pocket and take a nibble—I grabbed it from the snack machine during shift number two but then lost my appetite when a demon self-combusted in front of my desk. Sometimes they do that to avoid being sent to Riker’s.
I blink a few times and it appears as if teeth bite the sky. No! They’re mountains. I hasten my steps. What lies beyond? I force myself forward as the inky night slowly lifts at last. The sunrise is the rosy shade of my mother’s lips, the lavender of her eyes, and the pale sunshine of her skin.
Tears flow freely down my cheeks. I don’t tear my eyes from the sun, hoping it will return me home. Bring me back to my mother. But as the sky paints itself blue, I know it’s too late.
My mother had crystalline wings like from the stories of faeries she’d tell me when I was a little girl. I always knew there was magic in the world, but it was controlled by the Force and used for offensive and defensive purposes. Never for beauty. But that’s what my mother was. A beautiful person with a secret. She was fae. How could that be? I certainly didn’t think they were real. Why didn’t she tell me? Now that she’s gone I may never know.
My ragged sobs fade as I near the mountains. I leave footprints in the snow as my shadow lengthens behind me. I won’t stop walking while there is light. The snow turns to rocky soil, the dirt to a meadow filled with green-brown grass steepled with drying juniper. A golden bird that resembles a raven lands on the stiff branch of a tree. Its bead-like eyes blink at me before flying away and toward the hills in the distance. I spot a stack of flat stones like a totem and then another by a tinkling stream where I risk a drink.
I continue on the mountainous terrain. I follow the totems, pass stone structures, cross bridges, and climb rocks. At dusk, I reach a plateau. The sky opens to a wide valley, divided by a river. Pockets of light dot the distance like stars even though there aren’t any overhead yet.
It’s definitely not New York City, but there must be people and food and heat.
As I hustle along the path, loose gravel slides toward the base of the mountain. I’m nearly there. Hills slope gently between the pricks of light in the distance. I slow my pace when a dip in the terrain reveals an enormous wall enclosing the city on two sides. The third border is formed by another mountain and the fourth is the sea.
After finishing my protein bar, I decide to wait until daylight to continue. There is no telling what the city is trying to keep in or out with that wall. I find a tree and climb it. Tying myself to the trunk using the skyn rope so I don’t fall out, I clutch my knees to my chest.
I have a craving for something, but it’s not brownies or potato chips or the usual. It’s not a pang of hunger at all even though the protein bar did little to fill my stomach. Rather, it’s a chilling sensation, tugging on invisible threads inside of me. Although, I could go for some birthday cake right now. Instead, I drift to sleep.
I wake to the hiss of voices. Lantern light bobs in the distance. I still my breath as the hair lifts on the back of my neck.
Chapter 3
Soren
It’s foolish to keep coming back out here night after night, but I’ve been called worse than a fool. The evidence is on my skin. I rub my calf where a new stretch of ink burns. The low pulse of the drums keeps me confident the night howls, cursed wolf shifters, in the hills will remain at bay.
If I can’t have fish, fowl will have to do. The trees are relatively bare giving the birds fewer places to roost for the night. My stomach pinches with hunger. The king has stores and stores of food and grain. I smell the brown bread when I pass the castle after the demon hour sends everyone else scurrying. He keeps us hungry, scared, and beholden to the crumbs in his hand.
What he doesn’t realize is that I have sharp teeth and a heavy jaw.
I pause on a hilltop, inhaling deeply and tasting something close to freedom. The moon glitters on the sea off in the distance. If I had a boat, I’d sail to distant shores just to feel the water under me and possibility before me. Just to feel the salt on my skin and the wind in my hair. To see what my father did on his voyages.
Someday I will be free.
I pull my cap lower. I gaze at what remains of the town of Raven’s Landing and Fjallraven Castle as though I have a mirror into someone else’s memory.
There were once lush green fields bordering copper sun-streaked hills. Villages dotted the highlands and the lowlands. The cozy, thatched-roofed homes welcomed friends with trails of smoke puffing from the chimneys. There’d be
