Сегодня в деревне Блэкуотер снова шел дождь.


    Ничего необычного — дождь шел каждый чертов день. Он промочил землю насквозь, превратив улицы в грязное месиво.


    В конце концов, это был сезон дождей. Вся земля была покрыта грязью, потому что в этой деревне не было дорог.


    В этом болоте каждый шаг был сущим испытанием, что еще больше усложняло жизнь бедняков.


    Тем не менее, деревня казалась оживленной.


    Здесь можно было увидеть детей, подростков, взрослых — в общем, всевозможные фантастические существа, которые никогда не встретишь в нормальном обществе.


    И всех их объединял один простой факт.


    Они все работали.


    Среди всей этой суеты трудились и две ничем не примечательные фигуры. Оба они выглядели как дети, рожденные в рабстве.


    Оба были одеты в рваные, грязные тряпки. Их рубашки висели лохмотьями, штаны держались только на куске веревки, а их обувь была похожа на изношенные сапоги, которые давно потеряли прочность. Их одежда напоминала наспех залатанную лоскутную одежду, уже потерявшую и форму, и цель.


    — Чёрт, как же я ненавижу это ёбаное время года. Всё моё тело мокрое... и эти чёртовы раны открываются ещё больше, — выругался Мрачный, его лицо ясно давало понять, что он чувствует.


    Лицо у него было как у всех здесь — овальное, с вечно спутанными черными волосами, такими грязными, что даже дождь не мог их отмыть. Он выглядел таким же несчастным, как и все остальные.


    Рядом с ним шел еще один мальчик — такой же тощий, со впалыми щеками и безжизненным взглядом.


    Сразу стало ясно, что даже шест, с помощью которого они носили воду, не помогал облегчить бремя, лежавшее на их плечах.


    Второй мальчик выругался.


    — Да заткнись ты уже. Ты не думаешь, что мне надоело слушать твое гребаное нытье? — сказал он тоном, который был одновременно и умоляющим, и яростным.


    Его звали Ларк.


    Он был другом и верным товарищем Глумера, выросшим вместе с ним в этой дыре.


    И, похоже, даже после всех этих лет он так и не привык к постоянным жалобам Глумера.


    The village housed different families. There were the poor, who labored all day, and then there were the more influential ones, who could afford better jobs and even some rest.


    Gloomer and Lark struggled to keep their balance, trying not to fall. Near the wooden houses, they had to be extremely careful with such a pole.


    Thanks to their speed and persistence, they soon reached the wooden house they needed.


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    A boy stood on the porch.


    At first glance, it was obvious—he was of a different breed.


    Taller than them, about 170 centimeters. Lean, with neat, clean hair that had clearly been washed recently. He wasn’t smiling, not even looking pleased.


    — What the hell took you so long, idiots? While I was waiting, even Ars had time to take a shit — he yelled.


    His name was Vale, and he looked like a zombie. Honestly, if Gloomer didn’t know him personally, he would’ve thought this guy was definitely undead.


    The only irony was that this zombie talked way too much.


    Ignoring his yelling, they carefully lowered the wooden pole, from which a bucket of water hung, onto the ground and collapsed from exhaustion.


    — Fuck, one more trip and I’m dead! — Gloomer groaned.


    Lark, on the other hand, looked as if he had fallen asleep. This moment of rest felt like a dazzling gift.


    — Ars, it’s our turn now! — Vale shouted.


    At that, another boy stepped out, not even glancing at the two exhausted figures.


    — Damn, why’d they come back so fast? I could’ve used another minute of lying down.


    Vale looked at him and responded.


    — Hey, if you three idiots keep this up, we won’t finish even by tomorrow. Hurry up, fill it up, and get moving!


    Without waiting for a reply, he rushed off.


    Ars lazily picked up the remaining buckets, filled them up, and, yawning, followed after him.


    Lark cracked one eye open, watching them move.


    — Ugh, I wish I had his energy. I wonder why, out of all of us, I’m always the one who gets the most exhausted—both physically and mentally.


    Even that idiot Gloomer has so much energy that he can complain and whine all day, no matter the situation.


    There wasn’t even anyone to blame for it in this place.


    Did God exist?


    Even if the answer was yes, it was clear He didn’t give a damn about these people.


    And that was obvious just by looking at the lives of these children.


    Even their clothes couldn’t hide the countless wounds on their bodies.


    All the worst things that could happen in this world were an everyday reality here.


    Gloomer and Lark didn’t even know how old they were.


    The only thing they knew was that they were still children who had no idea what they wanted.


    Every day, since childhood, they had seen the same movie play out.


    Work.


    At least they had people to work alongside.


    Perhaps that was the only thing keeping them from losing all hope for life.


    Right now, their task was simple—to replenish the water supply. Water was considered a valuable resource in the village, and there weren’t enough laborers willing to haul it.


    And then—


    A song drifted through the air beside Gloomer.


    — The river sings, dreams take wing, sorrow fades, and the sun begins to rise — Lark started singing, and at that moment, he actually seemed happy.


    Gloomer grimaced, cursed, but in the end, he joined in.


    Even though his voice trembled from exhaustion.


    ***


    Night fell quickly.


    It carried away all the village’s whining and brought with it much joy and laughter.


    At night, the villagers could lie down peacefully, talk, and do whatever they wanted—within reason.


    This was the moment when they were freed from work.


    The house by the sea felt the wave of joy.


    People there drank cold water with delight, resembling aristocrats savoring wine.


    It was a house with its own history, its own fate.


    Originally, twelve children had lived in this house.


    But life knows no mercy. At this moment, only five of them were still alive.


    And they were all considered one big family.


    The fifth member of the house was currently absent due to working in the mines. So for now, there were only four of them in the house.


    Inside, on the floor, lay Lark, sleeping quietly. He always tired quickly. Drool trickled from his mouth, and it seemed like, in his dreams, he was seeing something good.


    To avoid accidentally waking him, the three of them sat outside, talking.


    Gloomer, as always, talked the most.


    — The only good thing this awful season has brought is water. Honestly, it’s much better than any other liquid I’ve ever dealt with.


    Vale laughed.


    — Maybe that’s because you’ve never had anything else?


    — Don’t tell me you’re about to brag about your experience again?


    — Heh, heh, I can afford to. You have no idea how sweet some drinks in this world can be. After that, no water ever tastes good again.


    Vale paused before continuing.


    — In a year, I’ll be sixteen, and then I’ll finally be considered an adult. You can bet the first thing I’ll buy and bring to our house will be that drink.


    — It’d be hilarious if the priests tell you you’re not even fourteen yet. Heh, heh, and that’s possible. Honestly, there’s no way for you to know your real age.


    — Don’t be jealous, idiot. You’ll still be here in a year, praying to me for charity.


    Ars sat with his arms wrapped around his legs, gazing at the lively village.


    He paid no attention to his friends and simply admired nature. Among all of them, he was the most silent.


    From their house on the hill near the shore, there was a clear view of the sea. Everything seemed normal—except for the fog.


    Gloomer was still muttering about something when Ars suddenly froze.


    His gaze locked onto the horizon.


    At first, no one understood what had unsettled him so much. The sea? What sea? It had always been there. Dirty, heavy, churning like sewage.


    But then the fog moved.


    Not from the wind.


    Not from the waves.


    It moved on its own.


    Vale tensed. Gloomer blinked, shook his head, as if checking whether he was imagining things.


    And then something massive began to crawl out of the gray mist.


    An island.


    But not just an island.


    Он не вынырнул из глубин. Он не появился из-за горизонта. Он был там все это время — просто незамеченный, как будто сам мир отказывался позволить им увидеть его.


    И теперь, когда Арс наконец это заметил, ему стало плохо.


    Словно его внутренности сжались в холодный узел.


    — Чёрт… — Мрачный сглотнул. — Не говори мне, что это…


    Вэйл, как самая ответственная, тут же бросилась внутрь, чтобы разбудить Ларк.


    И тут земля начала трястись.


    На деревню хлынула волна тумана.


    Он их не спрятал.


    Паника едва начала распространяться по улицам, как раздался первый крик.


    Из берега начали выходить странные существа — существа, состоящие из костей, с оружием в руках.