ã€ŠNoirceurã€‹


 A death in the hands of hate

    Whips clashed on the floor. Whimpers hung on the iron of the cages. Whenever anyone made so much as a sound, the leather of a glove tore across the already thin skin of a prisoner. The rattle of wooden wheels shook unevenly through the bodies.

    Half in thought, Salia put her head back, letting the clatter of the heavy iron chains on her body fade into the background. The horizon was already dipping into fiery orange, driving away smoky reds and drowning far off in a blue where she would have liked to linger a little longer. Far away from the seven kingdoms and their rules, and even further away from Couvia, the kingdom from which she had been dragged out by the hair.

    ¡°I said look to the ground, you half-blind monstrosity!¡±

    Before Salia could even break away from the sight of the sky, hot pain snapped through her upper right arm. A hiss broke free from her lips, hastily directing her attention to one warden who had taken up a stance outside the cage to whip each of them out of bored glee. This time it had reached her. She was the only one who had dared to look up at the sky.

    ¡°What are you looking at?¡± he yelled at her one more time. Secure in his position, he pushed through his skinny chest in the kingdom''s unadorned uniform and looked down at her. The thick fur collar of his cloak hid the lower part of his face and the dark blue, rigid cap cast dark shadows over his eyes.

    He was one of many and not one of those who could hold Salia''s interest longer than necessary. Her perception was already too dim for that.

    So she lowered her gaze to her swollen, blue fingers. The bloody tips and missing nails were still a vague reminder that they had been worked on with pliers. Out of superstition, that caused injury from a demon, a deformed creature like her, was infectious. Everything was done to eradicate resistance.

    Her numb hands clenched into fists, Salia pressed her lips together. She should have put up more of a fight when they discovered her in the basement of a remote, crumbling house. The two guards who had come to her to restrain her with magic ¨C she certainly could have clawed one of them''s eyes out. For the sake of satisfaction, as a souvenir and reminder that there was still life in her kind, too. Even though she had previously merely lived frightened from one day to the next, with little food and even less water.

    The cart''s abrupt stop distracted Salia from her hands. Low murmurs drifted through the small crowd of captives and as she raised her head slightly to see why they had stopped, the sight of Aywotoc ¨C the uncharted waters ¨C engulfed her.

    ¡°Hah!¡± The warden, who had earlier gripped the whip in his gloved hands, now thrust them to his hips. ¡°About time we arrived. I''m sure most of you should already feel at home.¡±

    Another man in the same uniform appeared behind the warden, armed with some keys that would open the heavy iron doors of the cages on the fourteen carts.

    When the door of her prison swung open, Salia barely got to her feet. The long journey that had left her withering motionless behind bars for two days made her muscles weak and her bones glassy. Carrying her own weight seemed impossible, although her body had been too meagre to really weigh anything.

    Hurried gestures urged her and the other nine occupants to get out. The exit was within her grasp, prompting her to lead the way, to spit in the face of the first one to come, but her limbs remained motionless. Eventually she lined up somewhere in the middle ¨C unable to leave a mark. Instead, she followed her predecessors in goose steps to the shore, where the water shimmered gloomily and old wooden boats waited for maniacal passengers.

    Salia faltered for a moment as she caught sight of the inert wood on the water, only to notice the snap of a whip beside her. A well-intentioned threat that made her wrinkle her nose before continuing. Resistance was futile. The magically prepared chains would break her wrists and constrict her neck ¨C long before she would be able to do anything.

    Still, barely two steps later, her body hesitated again. Getting into one of those boats would be the end that, at sixteen, had come far too soon for her. The heart in her chest thumped conspicuously hard against her ribs, almost as if there was actually something other than indifference. Something other than the certainty that she couldn''t escape. But Salia didn''t get to get used to the feeling, couldn''t classify it when she was grabbed by the black ram''s horns of her head and violently dragged forward.

    A strangled sound escaped her throat as she was thrown over the edge of a boat and slammed face-first onto the wood. A burning sensation ran through one of her cheeks, while her nose throbbed unpleasantly up to her forehead. Behind her followed the others with whom she had shared her cage.

    Hastily, Salia tried to bring herself into a sitting position, to glance over her shoulder and snort. A sound that caught soundlessly in her throat as she spotted the other demons.

    Each of them had been dressed in simple rags. They had come into this world with nothing and would leave the same way. In between, she discovered red marks, lacerations, whimpering women, feet away from their husbands. Little children, no older than ten. Babies who had been silent for a while because they had starved to death somewhere along the way. They had been kept in cells far away from their mothers to be returned to the occasion of death.

    Tortured screams coursed through the back rows and, if Salia had to count, she looked into the eyes of at least a hundred demons, all different from humans in their own unique way. Some displayed animal claws, of which only crippled stumps remained. Others had horns of various shapes and colours. Skin ranged from scaly to leathery to so transparent that one could count the veins underneath with the naked eye.

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    They were special.

    The clearing of the warden''s throat, who had been watching her, made her gaze slowly wander to his lanky figure. The flicker of a magic book illuminated his angular features.

    ¡°For the sake of order, here are your last words of farewell.¡± A wry smile crept onto his features. ¡°In the name of the Kingdom of Couvia and all surrounding lands and allied kingdoms, you demons are sentenced to death so as not to further threaten the peaceful lives of humans. Just as you escaped these unknown realms when they sought to devour you, so you are delivered to them through our hand to find death in the hell of Aywotoc. May the hero who will one day hold the sacred spear in their hands destroy the rest of you as well.¡±

    Salia swallowed. She had heard much of the legends in which a flood had swept over humanity centuries ago, leaving only the chosen alive. The rest had perished in the waves. Simultaneously, she had considered it a fairy tale and even now, trapped in chains, ready to face death, the stories surrounding the sacred spear sounded implausible. A bit like getting one''s hopes up for something that would never come to pass.

    A ridiculous, stupid, even human trait that annihilated anything different; and even as Salia ground her jaw, eyeing the prisoners of her people, heat sprouted beneath her skin. If she were to get one last chance, it would be the eyes of this warden that she would claw out first. Like a last fight, with mixed cards, to see if there really was a reason to fear. If there really was a hero lurking out there who wanted them all dead.

    ¡°May the hell of uncharted waters hold you tightly in its arms.¡± Without further ado, the overseer slammed the book shut before giving Salia''s boat a good kick. The jolt swayed through her body, making it hard to keep her balance on her knees, and the small distance that stretched between her and the shore within seconds became impassable in one fell swoop.

    No further attention was paid to her boat, instead she was left to drift while the next ones were pushed into another wooden shell and the procedure repeated. At least ten times, some of them would have to listen to the words of the book and just for a blink of an eye, Salia was glad that she was in the first unit of doomed men.

    The other nine who shared the cramped space of the boat with her had already shut their minds. Heads bowed, they were silent. Their senses had zoned out and the will to hope for anything had disappeared. The chains held them firmly in this place, and although Salia felt the tightness in her chest as communal suffering, it was a spark of remorse that took over.

    After all the chaos had befallen her, after the world had relentlessly collapsed beneath her feet, it was only in those minutes that it occurred to her what all she could have done better. She could have lived a life that deserved to be extinguished. Instead, fear had overtaken her and gripped her tightly.

    Her head lowered, her fingers came to the fore once more. For what seemed an eternity until a choked cry welled up at her side and faded. The boat swayed. Instantly Salia pulled her head up, making the white, shoulder-length waves sway, and caught sight of a fire arrow in a woman''s chest, her body falling slowly backwards. As soon as her upper body hit the ground, the magical flames spread. Everyone who had previously been finished with life jumped up, panic stricken, trying to escape in haste and yet unable to find a way out.

    ¡°Put out the fire!¡± one of them yelled.

    ¡°They want to be sure! Definitely sure! Most certainly!¡± shouted another.

    Two jumped overboard, unwilling to be burned when drowning seemed much less painful than the purgatory of this world. Salia, however, tried to remain seated, to compensate for the swaying of the boat. But the others'' movements were too fast. The screams rang in the ears, mingled with the cries for help from the other boats, which were also bursting into flames.

    Salia''s gaze darted over the others, fixing on the fiery image they had been given. In another unit, a woman danced in the flames. Children were strangled ¨C to make it quicker than burning or drowning. Some jumped overboard with no hope of ever surfacing.

    And from the shore, they were watched.

    ¡°You cowards...¡± Spellbound by the sight, Salia leaned forward. She barely heard the whisper on her lips herself. If she would only stretch far enough, just a little more, she might reach these people. But they merely moved further into the distance and the heat that unfurled beneath her skin burned almost worse than the flames of the fire whose tongues slowly crept in her direction. ¡°One day you will pay for this...¡±

    The very next moment, her head hit the water''s surface.

    Cold settled around her body, nestling against her skin through the rag, bringing balm ¨C even calm ¨C that plunged everything into icy silence. For a moment, there were no more screams. The world seemed almost peaceful.

    But the darkness of the water invited remembrance and while the chains tugged at her body as heavy as lead, dragging her further into damnation, it was the image on the shore that vied for attention, firmly fixed in her mind. The image of smiling wardens in unadorned uniforms. All in expensive jackets and boots, finely tailored trousers and capes with fur collars.

    Her throat tightened. She wanted to sob, but all that flooded her lungs was water. Cold, sallow-tasting liquid that coursed through her body, pushing aside the oxygen. The image faded into the background. Her muscles twitched. The last spark of life tried to save her. But the depths had already swallowed her and, although the violent stirrings of her limbs barely subsided, the tiny bubbles of air that escaped her lips told her it was already too late.

    Drowning was strange.

    At first one thought they were suffocating and then, all at once, it became natural to breathe water until death came. Salia felt it, noticed how the calm befell her nerves and also how much beauty was hiding in this place.

    The water above her shone in the incoming light, and the darkness made a caressing contrast. Blue shimmered in a wide variety of nuances.

    If she had had the strength, she would have explored Aywotoc. Maybe she would have found a home in that place. One where there was no hate and no one had to die. A place where she felt no heat.

    And yet, in another life, she would have taken revenge first. She would have burned each of those overseers at the stake, sure that they felt the same pain as all the innocents who had been crushed.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    A voice in the background reached out to her and yet met only a wavering wall of water in Salia''s senses. Promises reigned within her. Wishes and dreams for a war. For a little more justice.

    The water had already filled her lungs to the brim.

    Only a few more seconds until her thoughts would be oblivion.

    But the voice that nestled against her senses persisted. It wrapped itself sweetly around Salia''s mind, kissing the weakness far into nothingness, bringing with it an engaging blackness where deep unconsciousness waited.

    Dreamless loneliness, in which ultimately only this one voice lurked.

    ¡°Welcome home, my child.¡±

 Fight the hate to gain rage

    ¡°If you had to choose, how far would you go?¡±

    Revenge. She would take revenge. In this life, in the next, in any that would be given to her. Solely to put true terror into the cowardly figures who had seen her off with smiling faces. The same fear that her people had felt when the flames had engulfed them.

    ¡°If you had to decide, which life would you sacrifice?¡±

    She would release them all, would put every single human through the same hell. Over and over. Like a cycle that no one could escape, while everyone thought they had reached the end and seen it all. The hunters would change sides and the hunted would take up weapons they never thought they would need.

    ¡°Won''t you wake up?¡±

    The silky soft voice, which to Salia''s ears was like the distant sound of lovely sirens, was met with incomprehension at first. The water had long since filled her lungs and the death that held her tightly in its grasp was part of the blackness in which she lurked ¨C for another chance.

    ¡°Open them...¡±

    The request remained the same. Her senses bent, clinging to something she couldn''t place, and simultaneously she took a deep breath. The whistling of her lungs reached her ears as she tore open her eyes. One blue, like the sea that had swallowed her in its magical glow, one milky blind.

    For a moment, her body hung in mid-air and her head took two more breaths as she tried to sort out what had happened. Still clinging to her body was the scrap of cloth she had been left with; the useless bodice that hung down on her like a sack. Her body was unchanged.

    ¡°Salia...¡±

    Hissing, one demanded her. Goosebumps chased across her senses and the silky soft voice that had so carefully released her from the darkness now consisted only of a distorted rumble of the sea. Vibration settled in Salia''s pores, bringing rigidity that made her forget.

    For a moment, her thoughts no longer mattered.

    Instead, she turned, letting her gaze slide over her icy surroundings to notice pointed paws at her sides. Long, curved claws that trapped her like a hamster in a cage. Yet, there was something protective about it that dulled the shiver and brought the figure behind to the fore.

    Her breath faltered.

    For a moment, Salia thought she could no longer feel her heart beating. Her throat clenched, chasing sharp pain into her chest, while her shoulders trembled faintly.

    A face, covered by linen, larger than the front of an ordinary house, stared at her. Every breath this creature took roared like the waves of a tsunami. Its paws held Salia fixed in one place, appearing to be the only thing besides its face that seemed to exist. The rest of the body followed invisible waves, seemed like thousands of scraps of cloth gathered together to create a ghost ¨C a fairy tale that had caught up with her in death.

    But it wasn''t a ghost. It wasn''t a fairy tale. And it probably wasn''t even Death, whose obscured features clung spellbound to her. The strange heartbeat that warmly penetrated Salia was too clear for that.

    Long, washed-out, light hair curled in the water. It was a long-forgotten fragment in the unexplored depths of Aywotoc ¨C Salia couldn''t explain the figure any other way. A being waiting for something she couldn''t comprehend. Her mind went blank. Whatever lurked behind the veil, she would never be able to put it into words. Not when everything possessed an unreal touch from an unclear past.

    Of days lived she had never been a part of.

    ¡°You understand.¡± The creature''s growl was directed at Salia again. ¡°Welcome to the waters of the long forgotten.¡±

    You can read my mind? Cautiously, Salia tilted her head. Her body floated, she breathed entirely without gills, and though none of this was possible, the illusion of her surroundings seemed real. Real enough that she didn''t want to break it. So she kept silent. Lips pressed tightly together, she didn''t dare to make a single sound. All she could bring over herself were loose thoughts.

    ¡°It would be a lie to confirm, and yet it would be part of the truth.¡± The creature''s claws moved closer. ¡°The water does not forget. It filters, understands, and reaches on, child of the lost.¡±

    What do you want from me? She tried not to be distracted by the gigantic hands, thin as spider legs; tried to face death with serenity. Everything that opened up before her was a second chance. Unexplored discoveries in an unknown world with uncharted beauties that no one would ever see. If she tried, if she could get back up there, she could go back and live on.

    Back to the mainland where she would be hunted.

    Her teeth gritted inwardly as she lowered her head.

    ¡°Centuries, I waited,¡± the creature continued. ¡°Trapped in the depths of the sea, I, a siren of the lost. We are descended from the same people and yet we are of fundamentally different origins.¡± In one motion, it swung its hands aside, so the world around her was taken over by sandy soil. Tiny grains chased through the sea like a desert storm, clouding the view. ¡°We are the ones who sought vengeance too late.¡±

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    It seemed as if all at once they spoke the same language; as if revenge was all it took to understand each other. They were the same and yet they didn''t belong to the same time. The only thing that had remained in those generations was hatred.

    Tense, Salia found her way back to her question. What do you want from me?

    ¡°Of all those who met their end in these seas, you are the first whose hatred is so profound, so pathetic, that you would sacrifice all your lives for it.¡± Without further ado, the siren leaned a little towards her. ¡°So I came to find out if you are indeed the figure who will make a difference. I want to find out if you can achieve something that will live up to your hatred. Just as it has been done before. I want to see if you can carry the suffering of thousands on your meagre shoulders.¡±

    Salia had to tilt her head back to follow the siren with her gaze as it raised its head again. The massive figure took its distance, yet kept her in its cloaked gaze in every breath.

    There was silence between them, a tense stillness that made Salia lower her eyelids. Briefly, she let herself fall into the blackness, breathing in consciously and out with even greater awareness. Her body remembered, throbbing in her hands, her shoulders, her face. She remembered the others, the woman who had collapsed beside her and set the boat on fire. Behind her, the warden''s preaching with the wish that one day a hero would come to eradicate the misfits of the land. Whips snapped. Children cried out for their mothers, eventually to pass away in silence. Starved and abandoned in the face of dozens of hands that had done nothing.

    Then distorted faces holding dead bodies in their hands.

    Mouths contorted and tears dried.

    Wild smiles, promising toddlers that strangling them would make them die faster.

    The cold on their skin and the shame of being paraded in rags like an animal. The strange feeling of being grabbed by the horns.

    Half in thought, Salia raised her hand to feel the hard horn on one side. Grooves nestled rough against her fingertips. They had always been a part of her and yet she had felt a fleeting instant of shame when she had hit her nose in the boat. Somewhere between indifference and disgust, she had felt embarrassment. Just for a second. So trivial that it was only in those breaths that she noticed it.

    ¡°What do I have to do?¡± This time Salia spoke her question, allowing the surrounding illusion to collapse and the siren''s linen cloth to press against hollow cheekbones that showed a distorted smile.

    ¡°Show me you have the will to fight, even in the face of death. Even when your body has no strength left and your will has long been broken. You have no more than a few moments in which to breathe.¡±

    It wasn''t an offer. It was a challenge that Salia only understood when the siren reared its massive body and then, all at once, threw itself at her with vigour.

    Unsure how to move her limbs, Salia tried to find a direction. A way to evade. But her body was too cold, too rigid to obey. The wave that crashed down on her as the Siren''s body whizzed along millimetres above her, the linen threatening to trap Salia, and squeezed the breath from her lungs. Air bubbles robbed her of the rest of her vision. Fabric threatened to drown her, even though the oxygen was still hers.

    Perhaps all this was merely another way of suffocating. Another way of dying cowardly.

    Heart racing drove Salia''s arms, made her struggle. She slapped against linen, against rags, freed herself from the tangled mass that had taken her in. The water instantly became a part of her, carrying her body around to follow the siren''s body.

    The claws that made the creature cut through the liquid roared in Salia''s senses with every movement. Still, she kept her gaze fixed on the massive figure that came hurtling back at her in a wide arc.

    She wouldn''t last the ten minutes if she let herself get caught in the linen again. So this time she swam towards it, ready to grab it if she had to. It was the only chance.

    But it was no game. It wasn''t a little fight to find out if she was any good. It wasn''t an attempt to show that she wanted to survive.

    It was a challenge of death.

    Before Salia could dodge, one of the razor-sharp claws cut through the flesh of her upper arm. Blood drenched the water a spongy red, pain coursed through her body like a thousand knife stabs. She tore open her mouth, but no sound came out. Only bubbles swirled around, carrying life away and leaving Salia behind. Similar to the moments, to the pain that had come over her when her nails had been pulled in a dark room full of insects. Nails she was still missing and had completely forgotten in this previously peaceful place.

    The pain in her upper arm faded in the same blink of an eye, while the tearful gazes within the water weren''t noticeable. Instead, Salia''s attention wandered to her hands. Shaky, unsteady fingers of a teenager who hadn''t reached the end yet.

    She hadn''t yet reached where the lost and forgotten wallowed.

    She could still fight.

    Her hands clenched into fists. The throbbing in her upper arm came to the fore again, but this time, there was no uncertainty. There was only one goal. A single desire that shot flame-like through her body and made her grind her teeth.

    Revenge.

    She had been shamed enough, had taken enough, had seen enough to demand more than she would ever be given elsewhere. There was more she could have than death. More she could choose than her downfall.

    She was worth more than that.

    People would see it. This siren would understand. The erect hairs on Salia''s body, the icy skin contrasting with the fire in her belly ¨C the rage would engulf her and Salia would use it as a weapon. If she wanted revenge, she had to fight. She had to eliminate anyone who stood in her way, no matter if it meant the death of Couvia''s entire army. Even if it meant sacrificing her hands, her fingers, her entire body, she would bring about a new age.

    The heat inside seethed. This time unrestrained, eager, willing to burn until there was nothing left of her. Even in flames, she would bring salvation to her people. She would protect her kind and let the demons flourish.

    ¡°Then show me!¡± The siren''s movements had stopped. Its claw still carried a thin thread of blood as it pointed to some debris Salia hadn''t noticed before. The sand had been too dense and her attention too spellbound.

    But the calm that now lurked in her mind as her fingers twitched, ready to rip the linen from this beast''s body, made her glance at the spot shown.

    A place where a spear stuck deep in the stone of forgotten ruins.

    Splendour, beside which rested a protective shield.

    The legendary spear.

    The fairy tale that people preached.

    She could become a heroine.

    The saviour of her people and the monster of a new story.

    And all at once, Salia felt the first smile in months on her lips.

 The beginning

    She was allowed to have her way. For a moment, the task, the will to win, receded into the background. Instead, Salia used the narrow window of opportunity to swim down to the spear in firm, taut strokes. The shield shimmered in dull surroundings. The magic that rested within it had to shine even in the darkest hour.

    For an instant Salia tried to grab it, long before she reached the legend, but withdrew her hand in the last second. Her first touch wasn''t to hold a shield. There was nothing she wanted to defend or protect. No one was waiting for her anymore. Her family was long dead.

    Light as a feather, her bare feet came to rest on the uneven stone. Sand rubbed over her soles, lightness nestled against her body, and for a breath, Salia waited. Her eyes fixed on the spear ¨C titanium, slightly curved, ending in a point of diamond. No gems. No adornments. Nothing that made it stand out.

    And yet, behind it all, Salia thought she saw a soul that was closest to hers. A will that existed solely to bring war. Destruction and freedom, by rising and agreeing to bring the world to its knees. With this spear, it was possible. With it, she could make a difference.

    Slowly, her hand reached for the cool metal, gripping the titanium as tightly as she could with one hand before taking hold of the heavy strap attached to the shield and pressing both pieces tightly against her body. Against her thin, brittle frame, which with all this was supposed to seem stronger than it was.

    But even underwater, all that metal was hard to move. Winning against the siren using spear and shield remained but a distant dream. A mere idea that required her to decide. So Salia made a choice.

    Her gaze turned back to the siren. Its shape in the middle of the water was like a painting ¨C created from far away and forgotten dreams, just waiting to devour its victim late at night. If she wanted to win, she had to overcome all that.

    She had to let go of the dreams.

    The sea demanded all she had.

    The shield slipped from her hands. There was nothing left to protect.

    Sand swirled as the metal hit the bottom and fell over. It landed flat on the rock, rejected and unwanted, while Salia took the spear in both hands and straightened her shoulders. She had only this one chance. One shot to get what she wanted ¨C what she deserved.

    ¡°So you choose to give your hatred a stage...¡± The siren''s statement chiselled Salia''s decision in stone; made it lift its claws and draw the water so deep into its lungs that the fabric in front of its face was pressed tightly against the crooked features beneath.

    For a moment it seemed to cover an endless hole before hasty bubbles of air shot back into the sea on either side, lifting the linen. Gills appeared, only to be covered up again immediately afterwards.

    It was like an invitation, a starting signal that Salia noticed as she tried to stabilise her position and become one with the water. She had to stay in rhythm with the weightlessness, had to resonate, let herself be pulled along. Unlike a normal fight on land, where she had never had a chance, this time it was the water that promised her possibilities. She just had to go for it.

    The siren recognised the second part of its test as well, ready to put an end to all this. Its massive form turned. Then it sped down like an arrow. Claws raised on either side, it threatened to strike, crumbling the rock into thousands of chunks ¨C and Salia waited.

    The pounding in her chest had subsided and the restlessness that had been like a warning in her bones before, half-smothered and panic-stricken, had given way to inward peace. There were no doubts, no worries; only a goal to reach for while it was still visible.

    Slowly she breathed the warm air over her lips, attention focused on the siren. The coldness of the water remained alien. The distance narrowed. Time threatened to stand still and trickle through her senses all at once. Nothing changed and yet everything threatened to collapse into itself.

    Just at the last moment, as the siren''s claws lowered and the rushing water echoed through the void between them, Salia pushed herself off the bottom. Dust swirled, stone cracked. A hiss, fading behind the rumble of stone, chased under the linen of her opponent''s brittle lips. Dulled destruction gave Salia a lift, carried her upwards, far enough to meet the siren at eye level.

    Her body reacted, acting on reflex as her opponent''s head lifted and the cloth fluttered barely an arm''s length from her. Salia''s grip tightened. Her forearms tensed.

    And then she thrust.

    The diamond tip sparkled in the faint glow of the underwater world before disappearing into white cloth. The spear pierced through the fibres as Salia''s body pressed against the titanium with all its might. Resistance held her back, only to give way barely a blink later.

    The weapon penetrated. Blood spread on the creamy linen and the imperious scream that followed with delay vibrated through Salia''s body. Her bones trembled under the pain of her opponent, threatening to tear the spear from her, so she ripped it back with force.

    Thin threads of blood followed the way, washed out, refusing to become one with the water and yet fading a little more with each movement Salia''s legs made. Simultaneously, the siren tilted its head back ¨C the scream on its lips almost silent.

    Salia watched it happen. She absorbed the seconds, observed how the torment broke through every bone of that gigantic body and horrified the whole of Aywotoc. All through the tip of a spear whose sturdiness would survive even Couvia''s armies.

    It was a hopeful thought.

    Barely noticeable, Salia''s breath rushed faster across her lips. Her fingertips pressed firmly against the titanium of her weapon and as her shoulders tensed, the world seemed to fall at her feet for a split second.

    The smile on her features grew wider, brighter, more honest. She felt the tugging of her skin against her cheeks and yet she couldn''t suppress it. Instead, a laugh escaped her. Relieved, completely detached, as if she had already made the leap over the fire. Yet her journey had only just begun. It was just about to reveal itself.

    But she had taken the first step, put a siren in her place and ¨C

    Her thought broke off as her body pressed violently to one side. Her previously stiff shoulders threatened to press against her chest and laughter choked somewhere in her lungs.

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    Then the water chased past her like a storm.

    The siren moved away, a little way into the background, until Salia crashed back-first against the rock of the bottom. The water didn''t cushion her; it didn''t make the impact any easier, and the sharp stones digging into her haggard body elicited an unwanted gasp that filled her lungs with water.

    Instantly, she let go of the spear to clutch at her throat. The oxygen was missing.

    ¡°It''s a beginning ... really the beginning of something perhaps fascinating.¡± The siren had regained its posture. The cloth on its face was almost completely drenched in red and a thin scrap of cloth that didn''t belong to it hung from one claw.

    It took no further thought to understand that it came from Salia''s garments. This creature had attacked, and it had hit her in the triumphant moment of a silly girl.

    With difficulty, she tried to hold her breath, to gain composure. But her body yearned for oxygen, for rescue, for help she couldn''t ask for. Instead, her limbs twitched. Her body writhed. Fingertips tore at the skin of her throat, twisting it, squeezing it, stripped of all control.

    Help! All that remained for Salia were her thoughts. But the siren''s body remained fixed.

    ¡°Were you not willing to give up everything for your revenge?¡±

    Everything but my revenge itself! If she died, who assured her of a new life? The spear in her hands had been hope. Who knew what her next life would be?

    She was ready to sacrifice any life to come in order to take advantage of this one. This time she wouldn''t sink, wouldn''t settle for doing more next time. She wanted more than that, wanted to see this moment go up in flames. The water was supposed to evaporate and her opponents fall to their knees.

    She had been so close.

    But the blackness that reached for her made no exceptions. The twitching of her body became meaningless, stopped entirely somewhere between perception and oblivion; and when Salia closed her eyes, knowing she would not be helped, she was left with only one certainty.

    Next time, that siren''s head would roll.

    <hr>

    Salia''s body sped upwards as her senses were shaken by a harsh cough. Her throat burned, not allowing the coughing to subside, squeezing her chest so tightly she thought her ribs would break.

    She arched her back, tapping her chest weakly with a trembling fist until her cough subsided to a pitiful clearing of her throat. Each successive breath whistled in her ears.

    The tremor of her shoulders clung to her whole body, reaching to her fingertips barely a few minutes later. Her toes were blue. Her teeth were chattering. Her surroundings didn''t matter, beaded against the emptiness of her senses as Salia drew her knees up to rest her forehead on them.

    What followed were whimpering breaths. Endless. Helpless. Abandoned.

    Until alien warmth settled on her back.

    Instantly, Salia jerked her head from her knees and looked around. She didn''t get far before she met dozens of eyes. Two that could have belonged to a human and yet sat in a face with thirty more, barely larger than a copper coin.

    ¡°Are you feeling better?¡± The stranger''s soft voice brought calm with it, settling on Salia like a shroud, making her quivering shoulders slump. The small eyes blinked unevenly. ¡°You must have died twice today.¡±

    ¡°Have I?¡± Compared to the stranger, Salia''s voice rasped ¨C in her throat as well as her surroundings. It was so unpleasant that she immediately closed her mouth again and twisted her lips.

    ¡°For sure, and somehow ... not.¡± A thin smile settled on the other''s features before she finally removed her hand from Salia''s back and stood up. It was only in those seconds that Salia realised she was resting on a low bed. ¡°I am Vix.¡±

    Salia could only bring herself to nod bluntly as she followed Vix with her eyes and yet didn''t stick to her. Her surroundings crashed down on her too clearly for that.

    Around her, the sea still reigned. The darkness was lit by the faint shimmer of the surface and bathed in colour by wobbly figures with long legs. Hope, which was nothing but a deceptive glow on the surface of the sea, made her chest heavier.

    The only thing that kept her from drowning another time was an invisible, shiny skin that reminded her of a soap bubble. Part of her was already rousing herself to touch it, but the rest of her was considering safety. So her gaze wandered back into the room.

    ¡°How did I get here?¡± Her attention clung to the bed she had been resting on, without blankets but with a soft feather pillow. Her clothes were missing. Pulling her legs further up, Salia wrapped her arms around her chest to keep her shame low. ¡°And where are my clothes?¡±

    ¡°You mean the scrap of fabric they left you before they threw you into the sea?¡± Vix didn''t even turn to look at her. The flowing black hair, its violet glow enchanting the room, brushed the middle of her back in a steady beat as her head swayed back and forth. A rusty knife in her hands let her cut a fruit on the only table in the middle of this bubble. ¡°Threw it away.¡±

    ¡°Just like that?¡±

    ¡°Just like that.¡± She shrugged. ¡°That''s why I left you something else. It should fit ... even if you are a little meagre.¡±

    Salia raised her brows in disbelief before looking around. Besides this bed, this table, a few cushions in isolated corners of the stone floor and some fabrics, a neatly folded pile of clothes had been placed at her feet.

    Another glance at Vix revealed she was still busy with her fruit. So Salia took the moment to reach for the clothes. ¡°You saved me.¡±

    The knife slammed down on the table. Vix paused in her position for a moment. ¡°I think if I had saved you, you would be dead now. But Mireille told me that ...¡± She sighed as she picked up the knife again. ¡°You''ve reached the beginning of the end.¡±

    Salia''s legs slid awkwardly into the blue jeans that had been laid out for her. They were baggy in places, didn''t fit properly, yet fit well enough not to slip down on her hips. Immediately afterwards, she tucked her upper body into a plain vest before throwing on the dark blue jacket, which could only be buttoned up to her hips. The rest of the fabric reached her knees.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± she inquired, finally surrounded by warmth that had become almost foreign. Pleasant calm that made the hatred fade into oblivion.

    ¡°What I mean is you have chosen to take revenge. I can''t say I agree with that, but it''s been out of my hands for a long time to do anything about it.¡± Without further ado, Vix put the knife aside and turned. Her eyes blinked again, and this time Salia admired the flawless, deathly pale patch of skin that drew a line three fingers wide through the middle of her face.

    Vix, meanwhile, brought her a plate, carefully topped with the strange-smelling fruit that had seemed so stubborn before. Its orange flesh was reminiscent of something Salia had once seen in a book ¨C long before she had understood that it was a book of ancient things who had once existed.

    ¡°These are oranges,¡± Vix elaborated. ¡°From an island far from here.¡±

    Salia''s eyes went round as a ball. ¡°There are islands out there?¡±

    ¡°They''ve always been there. Just ... they come and go, depending on how we treat them.¡±

    Slowly, Salia brought her nose up to the fruit, inhaled the sweet scent and let herself be carried away for a moment. The unexplored world out there held things long forgotten in the seven kingdoms. It was like a dream she hadn''t even known existed.

    ¡°Will you tell me about it?¡± Again she turned her attention to Vix, who had settled herself in front of the bed. Despite the black dress against her body, she sat cross-legged. ¡°Of the world outside?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Vix returned. ¡°That is something you may, one day, find out for yourself. It''s more important for you to learn what happened back then, and also to realise that Mireille''s anger and your hatred aren''t everything. That you don''t have to keep acting if you don''t want to. I mean ... how old are you? Fourteen?¡±

    ¡°Sixteen,¡± Salia replied. ¡°And who is Mireille?¡± She shook her head. There were too many unanswered questions for her to skip. ¡°And anyway, who are you?¡±

    ¡°Mireille is the siren whose eye you cut out.¡± Propped up on her hands, Vix leaned backwards. ¡°And I ... am the first of our kind. The first, the heroine, God, whatever they call me. I ... am the girl who wanted to make things better back then.¡±

    It took a moment for Vix''s statement to click into Salia''s head. ¡°You ... are the one who is responsible for all this ...¡±

    ¡°I am.¡± Her interlocutor''s gaze lowered. ¡°And by God ... all I had ever wanted was a little more peace in the face of cold society and a lost future.¡± When she looked at Salia again, it was dozens of black eyes seeking forgiveness in the glare of this bleak world. ¡°I wanted ... love. Forgiveness.¡±

    ¡°Then why all this? Why are we being hunted? Why do we live like this?¡±

    Vix''s lips twisted.

    ¡°Because all I found was hate.¡±

 Vixs home, so long ago

    Back then.

    Shortly before the change.

    Vix.

    The sky turned a dull grey, pierced by the last rays of the sun in warm colours. Another ten minutes and it would start raining.

    The streets were half empty, lights burning behind thick windows. Voices drifted down the alleys onto the main path, only to be stifled in the shadows. Vix listened to them, following every single word she could decipher as she bobbed up and down on the bottom step of her house.

    Her gaze wandered over nearby small buildings, watching the flakes of ash that had spread across the roofs and also eyeing the scowls of some people who had recently come to this village to bring a change.

    She knew they were new workers toiling in the contaminated areas of the mine ¨C close to the village ¨C because someone had moved them to this place. Each of them had already realised the damage produced by the mines. The lake that found itself halfway up the mountain, in the middle of a half withered forest, probably greeted them in a different colour every day.

    The chemicals used to extract what they all wanted had long since claimed their cost ¨C including countless lives that hadn''t withstood the toxic fumes of the water.

    Others it had scarred.

    Barely noticeable, Vix''s gaze fell to her hands. In the grand scheme of things, she had been lucky. Yet even her mother had felt panic three years ago when her face had begun to itch under red patches. Vix remembered how often her nails had scraped across the skin and also how her flesh had been noticeably caught on fire. They had been inflammations that had burst open at some point, leaving countless tiny eyes from which Vix couldn''t see. They blinked and moved, but they were blind.

    Her body had become deformed. Just like the ones of almost everyone else who had stayed in this place for more than a year.

    By now, she was no longer bothered by it. There were too many glimmers of hope on the horizon for that. She had just turned eighteen and if she and her mother saved a little longer, they would move to another town with normal people. Maybe there would even be someone who could take care of the eyes on her face.

    Everything would get better.

    Not least because her mother had once lived out there. There, in a society where people were welcomed with open arms if they shared their story.

    Slowly, Vix''s gaze lifted, wandering once more across the empty street. The first raindrops moistened her skin. None of the workers were in sight anymore and when she looked at the clock hanging on an enormous tower in the middle of the village, the evening hour was glaring at her.

    Six o''clock also meant that her mother would be home from cooking duty in an hour. The workers would be taken care of and the work would end around ten. Then the world around her would sink into silence until the first figures scurried out of the houses again around seven in the morning to bring breakfast to the workers.

    With a sigh, Vix stretched her legs and breathed the cool, damp air. It was nicer to listen to the whisper of the shadows and the scattered drops than to sit alone in one''s own four walls and wait for the loneliness to fade away. Laying her head back, she wrapped a strand of her long, black hair around a finger.

    ¡°They will pass...¡±

    Instantly, Vix''s attention turned forward again. Her shoulder cracked from the jerk and the thick grey jumper hugged tighter against her slender body. Throbbing spread under her chest, clinging to her senses as she looked around. It was the first time she had heard a voice from the shadows so clearly in her head.

    She swallowed.

    Perhaps this too was a mutation thing. Something that only came with time, if a person perished in this place long enough.

    ¡°Come,¡± she was urged a breath later. ¡°Save her.¡±

    Briefly, Vix folded her hands in her lap, clenching them tightly before looking at the clock. Half an hour more and her mother would be home. Thirty more minutes and she would be able to seek the advice of an adult much wiser than herself.

    But the shaking of her shoulders brought her to her feet. The pounding of her heart encouraged restlessness, clung to her nerves and bit into her perception. She hadn''t been told where to go, but part of her knew she should follow the slope ¨C up to the mines and drains they had left behind.

    Her legs didn''t move. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed firmly on the clock. The hands were slow to stir.

    ¡°Save her!¡±

    The demand circled through her skull like a scream, throbbing in her temples and making Vix groan. Her hands went to her head as she crouched down and took a few breaths.

    She had to go. It was important. The only message she understood behind all this.

    So Vix picked herself up again. At the latest, when the throbbing subsided, she started moving, letting stiff limbs carry her off the property and into the street. The cool air stung her lungs all at once and the lights, which had seemed so bright before, offered only a dull glow. The drizzle drew thin trails across her face.

    The tap of her feet bounced along the concrete walls of the ramshackle houses. Her shadow stretched far into the alleys. It grew with every corner it took in.

    Vix''s breath rushed faster across her lips as she double-took the few steps up to the slope before slipping on the soft forest path. Even after all these years, the ground had still not hardened.

    With difficulty, Vix kept on her feet, staggering for a few feet before regaining her balance. Only then did she cast a glance over her shoulder, back to the clock, which, far away, had passed the next full hour. Soon, the first workers from the cooking duty would arrive. If she wanted to follow the voice, she had to hurry.

    When her vision turned forward again, it was unsteady darkness that embraced her. The sun had finally set, taking the last rays with it, and the small light cones that had been set up at the edge of the path only flickered dimly.

    The next shift would fill them up.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    Again, Vix set herself in motion. The steep slope up wore into her thighs, making each step more strenuous than the one before. Her breathing became heavier, warmer, and the tugging in her chest threatened to tear her apart inside.

    Exertion like this was unusual. Normally, she spent her days on the steps of her home, not wanting to bother anyone. Even the mutants of the village couldn''t look her in the face without feeling discomfort. Vix knew that. It was the only reason she had kept a low profile, simply trying not to attract attention besides household and other trivial matters.

    Walking up the forest path, between half withered bushes and rotten trees, was completely alien. It was an experience. New and refreshing as the wind bit at her skin, the rain slowly increased, and her senses forgot why she had started the walk in the first place.

    But certainty returned as she climbed over the pointed leaves of a still intact bush and discovered the shimmering glow of the lake, shining as yellow as the sun. Its brightness bathed the surroundings in a ghostly graveyard, its bottom covered by thick fog.

    It was impossible to count on one''s hands how many people had died in this place, but they had all seen this lake. They had seen it before they collapsed in front of it. Always the workers first. Sometimes visitors. And when the wind carried the poison all the way to the village, even the youngest among them believed it was this lake that they would see last when their organs decomposed and a mutation failed.

    ¡°Don''t think about it.¡± Again, the voice settled gently on Vix''s senses. ¡°Forget it.¡±

    Repressing the circumstances was easier said than done, but it was also all she had left. The bright yellow of the lake, however, continued to draw her in, making her take tiny steps closer. Part of her believed she could find an answer in all this. The rest made her shoulders so rigid that they could hardly be moved.

    The soles of her worn-out sneakers slid up to the edge of the water. The earthy ground stuck muddy to each of her steps, holding her back a little each time.

    But before Vix could lean over the water, hoping to find a reason for her coming, a sharp cry snapped her out of her observation. Instantly she turned away from the lake, letting her attention wander up to the mine that lay close, carrying almost every sound like an echo through the surrounding forest.

    The throbbing in her chest resumed. In her mind, the voice''s statement repeated itself. She was supposed to save someone.

    Slowly her legs moved, leaving the lake hesitantly behind her before haste seized her nerves and she took off running. The exhaustion settled in her bones, eating away at her perception as well as her senses. For a moment, it seemed impossible to think clearly.

    Rotten bushes chased past her. Hollow tree stumps formed abstract shapes in the dim glow of set-up lamps. Branches cracked under her soles. She could probably be heard all over the mountain, and yet her panting seemed louder than anything else.

    The roaring in her ears made it difficult to perceive more than was necessary and it was only when her body winced and she fell to her knees out of reflex that Vix gained a vague overview.

    The breath was still heavy on her lips, but could be halfway controlled. Added to this, the murmur of voices from a few workers masked any rustling that her movements caused.

    ¡°What else are we going to do, huh? Allow that ugly brat to put us behind bars?¡± A man as wide as a closet held a small, whimpering girl by the hair. Her small hands tried to loosen his fingers, but they didn''t give way one bit.

    ¡°She''s a child. The idiots were something else, but ... no one would believe her, anyway.¡± Sighing, a woman with antlers braced spider-thin hands at her sides. ¡°Isn''t it enough that we killed the resistance? Blowing up this fucking shithole here is now no obstacle.¡±

    ¡°I''m with Resus,¡± contributed a worn-out, bespectacled face. ¡°If the kid says anything, they''ll look closer at this place and in the end, they''ll figure out we blew up the mine to put an end to this madness.¡±

    ¡°You''re really on the gorilla''s side?¡± the woman inquired. Her face was hard to make out in the poor light, but the sparkle of her eyes made Vix wince. ¡°Fine. If you want to kill a six-year-old brat, I''ll leave that fully in your ... apish paws.¡± She shrugged. ¡°It''s enough that the new workers think they can boss the not-so-pretty of us around like we''re wild creatures.¡±

    ¡°The world will welcome us when this goes public. They''ve done a good job of covering us up so far, but they''ll see.¡± Without further ado, the scrawny one shifted his glasses. ¡°Take care of it, Resus.¡±

    The burly one of them merely nodded as the other two turned away and went about their own plans. Vix watched them go for a moment as the girl''s helpless sounds welled up again. Her voice seemed too weak to cry out another time, and at the latest, when her head was forcibly pushed into a bucket of water, her sounds were almost completely suffocated.

    For seconds, Vix simply watched. Her legs trembled. Her fingers had buried themselves in the ground. She could do nothing. Didn''t want to do anything. They all seemed too dangerous for that.

    But the voice had asked her to.

    And this girl was only six.

    So Vix struggled to her feet. Every hair on her body shivered, wanting to resist her insane idea, but failed when she took a deep breath. Then she ran.

    The girl''s body was still kicking wildly when Vix arrived. With all her might, she threw herself against the man''s massive body, taking advantage of her opponent''s bewilderment and stumbling with him a little to the side. His hand detached from the girl''s long, white-blond hair. Her head shot up instantly and the cough that followed made Vix breathe a sigh of relief.

    At least until she was grabbed and flung aside.

    Backwards, she slammed into a pair of shovels that had been neatly propped against a low wall. The clang of metal as they crashed made her hold her breath. Drops of water slid sombrely through the air. Everything else faded into the background.

    ¡°Where did you ugly thing come from?¡± Without further ado, Resus wrinkled his nose. ¡°You look like your mommy fucked a spider. Where are your three hundred siblings?¡±

    Instead of answering, Vix jumped up. Resus''s attitude, his belittling words, everything about him made him careless, and it was enough to make her grab a shovel and lunge out. Swinging, she smashed the tool sideways at the man, the handle firmly in her hands. Still, it tore her skin open as she struck Resus''s thick forearm and the resistance coursed through to her nerves ¨C the wood splintering between her fingers.

    Her pathetic attempt elicited no more than a hiss that stopped him to glance at the point of impact. Another moment Vix took advantage of.

    As fast as she could, she stormed off. Her shoes slipped once on the now slippery ground, the rain pelted down, and her soundless squeals made her muscles twitch. The fright spurred her on, carried her straight past Resus to the little girl who was still sitting in front of the bucket, shivering and gasping for breath. Mindlessly, she grabbed the child by the arm, yanked her to her feet and forced her to follow. Only a few steps before the man''s roar reached her and she half-stumblingly dragged the girl onto her back.

    Piggybacking the little girl, she ran.

    Vix''s body weakened under the effort, under the weight of another. Her legs sagged repeatedly, her breath tore at her lungs and the sweat that spread on her within seconds made her skin sticky. Simultaneously, she heard heavy footsteps behind her. She was being followed and even if Resus wasn''t the fastest, he was nimble enough not to be outrun.

    The only advantage Vix had were the withered bushes and the pattering rain, which muffled her sounds. She could hide behind some trees, gasp for air, and when she spotted a half-intact bush, she dropped behind it.

    The girl slipped off her shoulders, so Vix pushed her in front of her and put one hand over her mouth to be safe. Then she looked out for the man''s massive figure. His shadow stretched through the trees, but grew smaller.

    Only slowly did Vix''s hand slip from the child''s face, while she herself let the breath she had been holding slip audibly over her lips, panting.

    ¡°Th-thank you...¡± Wide round eyes locked on Vix. Dark as night, they stood in sharp contrast to the flowing light hair.

    ¡°No problem...¡±

    Unabashed, the girl wiped her nose with a sleeve of her green and yellow ringed jumper before sobbing. Her fragile facade collapsed like a house of cards as the first tears rolled down her cheeks and her shoulders shook like aspen leaves.

    Indecisive, Vix put an arm around the tiny figure she had saved. ¡°Hey, everything''s going to be all right. I''m going to take you to your mother and-¡°

    ¡°Mum''s not here anymore!¡± the child interrupted her. Her sobs became suddenly so loud that Vix let her eyes dart around in alert.

    ¡°You need to be quieter,¡± she admonished a moment later. ¡°Did they do something to your mother?¡±

    The girl shook herself. ¡°Mum''s been gone a long time.¡±

    ¡°And your father?¡±

    The temporary silence between them burned. The girl''s sobbing had paused. It took time for her to shake her head. ¡°Papa was ... resisting.¡±

 Vixs decision, so awfully wrong

    Back then.

    Shortly before the change.

    Vix.

    She was alone, helpless, unable to take care of herself. This girl had no chance of getting through without someone else and all Vix was left with was taking slow breaths.

    ¡°Okay.¡± She straightened her shoulders. She had to be the stronger one. ¡°What''s your name?¡±

    ¡°Mireille,¡± the little one returned.

    ¡°Okay, Mireille. Can you tell me what happened and what you were doing here in the first place?¡±

    Briefly, the girl looked at her wordlessly before she pulled her nose back and made a sound of agreement. ¡°I always pick up Papa. So he doesn''t have to walk home alone.¡± She lowered her head. ¡°But when I arrived, that''s when they asked him and others to join ... to blow up the mine. Papa said they had no place in the world without a mine. And that''s when they shot them all.¡±

    Reluctantly, Vix pressed her lips together. They had guns. Real, actual guns. And yet they had chosen to drown a small child rather than just shoot it.

    It was cruel, outlandish, and yet the image behind it formed. Without that damned mine, there would be no more work in this place. They would have to be let go. They would lead normal lives and regain some health. No one would be sent to this place anymore.

    Freedom was within reach.

    But some had been afraid of it, long before this violent idea. An agreement would probably have been impossible, and yet Vix believed that a simple conversation would have helped.

    A solution could be found for everything.

    The sudden pull on her jumper woke her from her thoughts. Mireille''s small hand had clawed firmly into her fabric. Her big eyes sparkled wetly under the dim glow of the lamps. The rain had soaked her to the bone, her hair clung to her skin and her voice barely covered the pattering of the rain. ¡°Are we going to die?¡±

    Instantly, Vix closed her hands around the child''s face. The ground beneath her legs smacked. The wetness made everything within reach muddy. ¡°No. No, we won''t. We''ll go to my place where my mother-¡°

    She faltered.

    She had come up before her mother had arrived home. The riot had started before the shift change and the chances of anyone going home were zero.

    Either her mother had joined those people or she had resisted.

    Vix swallowed before her shoulders slumped.

    Maybe her mother had also hidden or run away. Not everything had to happen merely on two sides.

    So she eased away from Mireille''s face and jumped up. ¡°We''ll go to my place and wait there for my mother if she''s not home yet. She''ll know what we''re going to do next.¡±

    Mireille''s reply was a curt nod. A hint of agreement that slowly brought her to her feet. Vix gave her a thin smile, a bit of affection and hope they both needed. ¡°You don''t have to worry-¡°

    ¡°There you plagues are!¡± Resus'' voice abruptly cut off her encouragement. His heavy footsteps sounded distinctly damp in the background and when Vix glanced to the side, he seemed little more than three feet away.

    In his hand rested a shovel he must have picked up, and his nostrils quivered noticeably. ¡°So much trouble for two abominations like you. Had better days.¡±

    The worker''s uniform ¨C an ugly grey overall ¨C strained as his muscles twitched under the fabric and he took another step towards them both.

    Barely noticeably, Vix''s hand felt for Mireille''s. It seemed to take ages, with her heart thundering hammer-heavy against her chest, for her to sense cold, damp skin beneath her fingertips.

    Then, all at once, she grabbed hold and ran.

    Mireille''s body was swept along by the sudden momentum and her squeals chased a tremor down Vix''s spine that only made her run faster. For a moment it didn''t matter if Mireille could follow or flew after her. It was completely irrelevant whether the girl could breathe enough air or was in danger of suffocating under the rush.

    They had to escape in order to survive.

    It was the only thing that mattered.

    The trees chased past them like shadows in the darkness. Vix''s breath hung leaden in her lungs, and every step threatened to slip.

    Resus, who stayed close behind them, refused to be confused. His panting overpowered her every thought, and the rush behind drove her on and on.

    Down to the lake, its bright colour inviting.

    ¡°Come here!¡±

    The unknown voice that had spoken to her before resurfaced in her mind like a beckoning call and, though it seemed like rescue, her body faltered. Her feet wanted to stop, slipped, and before she could hold on, she crashed to the ground along with Mireille.

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    The little girl splashed into the mud beside her before coughing and gasping for air. Vix did the same. Her lungs were on fire, every breath stung, and her lips trembled.

    The cold of the rain slowly filtered through to her, making each moment a little more sluggish than before.

    Resus came to a halt a few feet in front of them. His heavy boots didn''t slip and balance seemed to be on his side too.

    Mireille''s hand still firmly in her grip, Vix''s eyes chased over the surroundings. But nothing was helpful. Behind them lay the lake, before them rose the mighty body of Resus, and all that surrounded them was half-rotted forest.

    ¡°End of the road, cripple.¡± He swung the shovel in his hands; would smash their skulls in and that was it.

    Vix''s body automatically crawled back inch by inch. Mireille''s hand slipped between her fingers as she did so, and it felt like a strange fever dream as the little girl scrambled to her feet and held out her shaking arms.

    ¡°Stop it!¡± She tried to put all the power into her quivering voice. ¡°We won''t say anything.¡±

    Vix froze in place. This little girl had summoned all her courage to save her, while in her mind there was only flight.

    But it was useless.

    Resus wouldn''t listen. He paid no attention to Mireille''s words and didn''t even bat an eye as he lashed out. The shovel crashed against Mireille''s temple in the same breath.

    Her head jerked to the side as the dull metallic sound suffocated in the background of the rain. Her tiny body collapsed like a house of cards.

    Vix''s breath caught as she watched her body lie motionless.

    ¡°Come.¡± Again the voice demanded from her. ¡°You must hurry.¡±

    She would die. Death would wrap its icy claws around her and if she had to choose an option, she was going to believe that the voice offered a better alternative than a shovel.

    It was a decision that overcame her and became so deeply embedded that a sob escaped her.

    Dying had never been on the plan.

    And yet Vix pushed herself into a crouch. With one hand, she wiped her burning eyes. Her muscles tensed.

    Every nerve in her screamed.

    And it reached beyond her lips as she rushed at Resus.

    He noted her fighting spirit with a grin before lunging with his shovel. He was ready to rip her head from her shoulders, yet noticed a moment too late when Vix threw herself to the ground to grab Mireille and turn around.

    She didn''t look back, didn''t bother to take one last look over her shoulder. Instead, her legs carried her to the edge of the lake.

    She jumped.

    Bright yellow enveloped her in its arms, warming her so pleasantly she thought she had ended up on a beautiful summer''s day. The breath in her throat escaped with pleasure before she opened her eyes and noticed her hazy surroundings.

    Everything within reach was just as yellow as she had expected. It was hard to see her hand in front of her eyes, and Mireille''s presence no longer clung to her body.

    She herself was dragged down. On and on. The seconds remained endless, bringing her to the ground where sand nestled against her shoes. Around her, the stone shone ¨C similar to metal.

    At the same time, the colour of the water changed with each blink. The yellow grew darker, seeking a heavenly blue that played magically with her hair. Tiny pearls of glaring white played around her body, eliciting a laugh.

    A breath under water.

    Hastily, she grabbed her throat, but she was indeed breathing. There was no liquid filling her. Only warmth and security in the arms of something unknown.

    ¡°Are ... we superheroes now?¡±

    The slightly distorted voice of another made Vix whirl around, only to look at Mireille''s deformed form. Her hair waved ghostly in the water and her clothes had turned white. She seemed to fade at some corners as she slid sharp claws through the water.

    ¡°I think it''s more like we''re cursed,¡± Vix brought over with a smile.

    ¡°Oh...¡± Mireille''s head lowered. ¡°Superheroes are cooler.¡±

    ¡°Then let''s be superheroes. We already look special. We just need cool weapons and equipment and-¡°

    ¡°Like that?¡± Mireille didn''t let her finish before turning away and turning around moments later with an iron bar. Unbidden, she rammed the iron into the glittering stone that made up the walls, and as a gasp escaped Vix, the shine seemed to spill over onto the bar.

    ¡°What''s happening?¡± She blinked several times.

    ¡°I don''t know,¡± Mireille replied. ¡°But a voice told me we could be superheroes like that.¡±

    ¡°With what superpower?¡±

    ¡°You can control water.¡±

    The iron deformed, remaining unadorned, yet radiating more resistance ¨C almost like platinum.

    Intrigued by the sight, she reached for the bar, pulling it out of the wall with force, only to discover a crystal tip. The iron bar had become a spear. A real weapon whose power she couldn''t estimate.

    At least not until Mireille also put her hands on the bar and gave Vix an excited look.

    ¡°We can win!¡± Her joy made her voice terribly high. ¡°And then everything will be fine.¡±

    ¡°We could scare the hell out of them!¡± confirmed Vix, but met with a curt headshake from Mireille.

    ¡°We''ll have to make them go away. Just like they took down Papa.¡±

    Vix swallowed. Mireille had seen it. It had escaped her before, though it had been obvious. Mireille had been there when her father had been shot.

    The gleam in her eyes, the joy on her face ¨C her hope was revenge. A feeling so simple, so engaging, that Vix clutched the spear tighter.

    ¡°This is no way to resolve conflicts, Mireille.¡± She moved closer to the girl. ¡°First, we need to talk.¡±

    ¡°Papa talked too,¡± she returned. ¡°It didn''t do any good.¡± She rested her forehead against Vix''s to look deeper into her eyes. ¡°This village and this mine ... they''re evil. And we''re superheroes. We have to do something.¡±

    Without further ado, Vix pulled her head back. She wanted to disagree, wanted to squeeze sense into that child''s mind, but all that faced her was the bottom of the lake.

    The ground, which was now easier to see because the brightness no longer stung her eyes and the murky water seemed clearer.

    The abyss on which six lifeless bodies stretched towards the surface ¨C weighted down with cement blocks.

    Three men.

    One woman.

    Her mother.

    Vix''s throat tightened in the same breath as she recognised the lifeless form of her only hope. Her mother''s dark hair rested lazily in the water and while her body wanted to swim upwards, the stone held her captive in the depths.

    She seemed to have been dead for a while.

    Unable to call her name, to call for her, to move away from the spear, Vix remained stuck on the sight. A second longer than necessary before she turned back to Mireille.

    Crying underwater was impossible ¨C at least it felt that way ¨C and the pain crushing her chest elicited hasty breaths.

    Mireille didn''t ask. She simply waited. Silently. Obediently. Like the perfect child, while Vix thought she was suffocating and yet just couldn''t stop gasping for air. Her body twitched, twisted, resisted every feeling that wanted to flood her.

    She had wanted to see the outside world with her mother. Not everything was like this place.

    Loving hands were waiting out there.

    Hands that would welcome her when this mine, this goddamned village, had rotted away.

    She would show Mireille.

    The good parts, once they had put all this behind them. Once the grief had risen and faded.

    Somewhere behind that strangely uncomfortable feeling of heat that settled so heavily in Vix that she gripped the spear even tighter.

    ¡°Let''s be superheroes.¡± She had to be strong. Just a little while longer. ¡°The bad guys have to go.¡±

    And then they would see the brighter side.

    Warm days and smiling people. All together with Mireille. The girl whose eyes shone in the face of revenge as if it were Christmas.

    Laced with hope.

    In a world of the hopeless.

 An unasked offer

    ¡°That was what brought us to this place.¡± Slowly, Vix bowed her head. ¡°When I saw that no place was better than the one I grew up in, I let hate guide me. The same hatred that you and Mireille fell to.¡±

    Salia listened to her. Tense, half in thought, not really paying attention and yet attentive enough to understand that all this had happened before. All those who had had it better had always been against the others. Hostility among themselves. Hatred between the fronts.

    If it was fear that bound them together, it needed more of it. More fear to remember when it mattered.

    If she destroyed Couvia and all the other kingdoms, if she wiped out all those who weren¡¯t like her, only those who knew how heavy suffering weighed on their shoulders would be left behind.

    And life would become more peaceful.

    ¡°So you understand that the seas that have never been explored were once seas that were known. It may be a hundred or two years in the past already, but there were times when men dived into the water to know the depths.¡± Half in thought, Vix leaned back. Stretching her legs, she had reached out in front of the bed. ¡°Today, only those with the courage to explore the seas can gain true knowledge of them.¡±

    ¡°And you think that is what I should do?¡± Brows raised, Salia pulled her legs closer. The heat inside her was missing. Talking to Vix had brought calm with it, stroking her hair gently. Almost as if everything would be all right again. Behind that, there was nothing more than the story of a mistake and a determination that had only been preserved in Mireille ¨C the siren who had guarded the spear.

    ¡°I merely say that there are better things in the world than destruction.¡± Vix closed her eyes. ¡°It is an eternal cycle that we humans cannot escape. We come and go, laugh, destroy, and go to war. Nothing is sufficient. Nothing is good enough. The end is found at every fork in the road and it is entirely in our hands to break this cycle, by not making the same mistake over and over.¡±

    ¡°But if we don¡¯t, others will.¡± The tightness in Salia¡¯s chest made her snort; hands clenched into fists. ¡°Why didn¡¯t Mireille do something? She was guarding the spear and surely she could have done more while you were doing nothing.¡±

    ¡°She could have.¡± Vix¡¯s lips twisted as she opened her eyes again and looked at Salia out of all those black beads. ¡°But as much as she loathes the world up there, she fears the mainland. The six-year-old girl in her never really grew out of her, and as long as I stay in this place with her, she has nothing to fear.¡± Her lips pressed together. ¡°And I advise you not to get any ideas about involving her in anything.¡±

    Salia swallowed. The coldness of her words settled impressively numb on her shoulders, threatening to wrap around her senses and petrify any desire within her were she not to go her way alone. A very simple wish, made by a woman ¨C a girl ¨C one so much like her she couldn¡¯t disagree.

    In the end, Mireille had nothing to offer that would have had any value in those times. She was a siren. A creature of the seas who had no power on land. She couldn¡¯t leave the sea, couldn¡¯t enter Couvia, couldn¡¯t bring the world to its knees. Not as she had once wished.

    Salia¡¯s journey remained a path that only she could walk. Alone. Surging with all the rage she could find.

    But in those endless seconds, only an exhausted sigh lurked on her lips. A weariness that consumed her insides as if it were food for the bottom of the abyss.

    ¡°The spear chose you, but I don¡¯t suppose you heard it speak. Not as I did then,¡± Vix continued, unperturbed. Her unflinching demeanour shifted the atmosphere between them into a variety of layers, and yet none of them could be clearly put into words.

    All Salia perceived as she shook her head was tension. The only thing she had ever noticed had been Mireille¡¯s voice. Caressing and sweet at first, then twistedly odd. Completely different from anything she had embraced in the darkness.

    And perhaps in those very seconds lay the difference.

    Perhaps she had heard the spear, had heard the whisper of someone other than the siren, before her consciousness had returned and everything else had slipped into the background.

    But being honest with Vix, telling her what she had sensed, was out of the question. She didn¡¯t support the feeling, was against revenge, and was against doing what was right. Nothing in her had cared to do anything for all the years Salia¡¯s people had suffered. She sought peace in a world where there was no freedom because of wishful thoughts that could hardly have been more na?ve.

    ¡°Perhaps it isn¡¯t too late then.¡± Lips pursed, Vix brought herself to an upright position. Her eyes hung in the distance, seeming to pursue a muse Salia couldn¡¯t grasp. ¡°That¡¯s good. If you slowly learn to hear the whisper of the sea, you can get more used to it. It won¡¯t wash over you as it did with me and Mireille back then. And then you can go your own peaceful way.¡± Without further ado, she gave Salia a smile. ¡°I have good faith you will find peace in Aywotoc.¡±

    The sweat in Salia¡¯s hands made it almost impossible to open them. Her fingers were so tense that the bones ached and her puny muscles shrieked softly, while the numb fingertips carried a damp burning sensation.

    She didn¡¯t want to find peace.

    No matter how dull the flames inside her blazed in those seconds, no matter how hopefully peaceful the sea seemed ¨C at the bottom, the corpses of her people rested. The bodies of other people who had been cast into the sea as misfits. Beasts that had been set on fire. Demons who were to blame for everything.

    Every breath she took was a crime she hadn¡¯t chosen, and if there was one thing she couldn¡¯t get involved in, it was peace.

    Only the thought of sitting back while others were hunted to death with pitchforks made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. Hiding and letting the world shatter was no solution. It merely shifted the responsibility to someone else¡¯s shoes.

    Responsibility that Salia could no longer pass on.

    The sea had spared her life. It had given her the possibility of a second chance. It had left her hatred and sheltered her body from the calm waves of death to stand up for her people. To let that gift go would be the end.

    Who knew when the next time would be for anyone to hear the whisper of the sea?

    ¡°I can¡¯t stay,¡± Salia stated in a whisper. She had to leave. She had to grab the spear and go.

    ¡°You still want to go back to the surface and try to sort it all out?¡±

    ¡°I won¡¯t try. I will.¡± She pushed her back through and for the first time Salia dared to stare down the little eyes in Vix¡¯s face all one by one ¨C despite them all being blind.

    ¡°Then don¡¯t reach for the spear.¡± Vix took a heavy breath. ¡°I am in no position to stop you should you choose otherwise. I gave up on the mainland long ago. I don¡¯t know how the world has changed up there, so I don¡¯t mind if it breaks. But I can tell you that people often come to regret what they¡¯ve done.¡±

    Stolen story; please report.

    ¡°What then?¡±

    ¡°You saw the shield?¡±

    Salia¡¯s nod was barely noticeable.

    ¡°Take it. It will always protect you. You and all those you wish to guard. With it, you will have the chance to negotiate peacefully and tell the people about what once happened.¡± Vix¡¯s eyes held a gleam, its hope beading off Salia.

    She was expected to defend herself. That she would go on the defensive and allow them to punch her until they were worn out so that they would finally listen to a few words.

    Words that had no meaning at all.

    No one cared about what had once been, nor about the truth, when what they taught was much more convenient. If even one of them believed it wasn¡¯t God who had divided them up, but a demon whose rage had taken over, the response would be the same as it already was. They would simply be hunted down for another reason.

    Shaking her head, Salia finally straightened her legs, feeling the stiff ache in her limbs, and pushed herself to her feet. Vix watched her go, following every step she took.

    ¡°I¡¯m not reaching for the shield,¡± she then started. ¡°I¡¯m tired of running away and talking when no one is listening.¡± She shrugged. ¡°All that helps up there is power. You don¡¯t know what it looks like up there, you don¡¯t know what the people are like either. So you have to believe me when I say talking isn¡¯t an option.¡±

    Vix¡¯s eyelids lowered. Her body seemed to slump a little, robbed of the hope that peace was within her grasp. Probably she had truly believed that the world had changed ¨C for the better. But the reality was different. It was becoming more miserable, worse and more depraved with each passing year for all those who longed for nothing but an idyllic life.

    ¡°Maybe not yet,¡± Vix put in again, ¡°but maybe if you give it all a little more time.¡±

    ¡°Time doesn¡¯t help me.¡± Salia¡¯s gaze wandered around the bubble, the space that held her captive. Yet there was a world to save ¨C her race, her species, anyone who possessed a bit of the same misfortune that had caught up with her.

    ¡°You can just step through.¡± Again the voice emerged, nestling velvety against her ears, inviting her to follow. A faint glow of certainty that Salia wanted to trust.

    In the end, that voice didn¡¯t get in the way.

    Regardless of the sharp breeze Vix brought over her, Salia approached the shallow pearly glow of the bubble. With the flat of her hand, she felt the shallow dampness, sensed the vibration from outside, and, in the very next moment, snuggled tightly against the unusual skin.

    This time, Vix didn¡¯t bother to stop her. Instead, she remained in the background, forgotten and left behind with ideals that no longer touched anyone.

    In the next breath, Salia slipped out with a plop.

    The water enveloped her like an old friend and the darkness, gently pushed aside by the colourful shapes of the sea, showed her a path straight into nothingness.

    Although there was still a part of her that had succumbed to slight fatigue and exhaustion between body and mind, Salia ventured a few swims ahead. Only when the bubble was some distance behind her did she turn around.

    Leaving Vix behind just like that didn¡¯t form the most pleasant feeling inside her. Not even for the clothes had she really thanked her. Everything that had left her lips had been unkind. Rude enough to make her regret the interaction.

    But perhaps it was better that way. For Vix and also for herself.

    Again, Salia turned to the path in front of her. In firm strokes, she made her way through the wetness that was by now a permanent part of her. The sea had engulfed her, had made her an unexplored object for all those outside.

    ¡°Follow me,¡± the voice in the background instructed her. It seemed to be a constant companion, possessing the same knowledge that had once been passed on to Mireille.

    Salia had no choice but to obey. Her gaze darted over the world around her. Fish danced further up, plants gathered below her, and ruins rose in between.

    Old rocks tried to tell endless stories and yet produced only mute remains. Salia absorbed it, exploring the few places that drew her in.

    Rough surfaces were protected by soft moss, cracks tugged at her thin skin and it was only when she spotted half a sunken building that she paused.

    It was reminiscent of a council house, pompous and somehow frightening, although there were always the same faces hiding behind the doors ¨C people who had somehow already been forgotten.

    On an upper sign, someone had put letters. Words from ancient times that had been lost over the years. Salia could neither read nor interpret them. All that remained was silent admiration for a sight that proved nothing other than that it had all been there before. Similar to a cycle, a spiral that always carried them down.

    Humans were incorrigible.

    ¡°Exciting, exciting!¡±

    In the background, the words of a stranger nestled against Salia. Followed by the giggle of two other voices, the slight vibration of strange figures travelled over her skin. It grazed her senses, giving her the opportunity to close her eyes and scan the surroundings with senses that were not hers.

    Still, she sensed the strangers¡¯ stirrings and turned when it was certain they had arrived.

    When Salia opened her eyes and her own hair had cleared the view, there were three women looking at her. All with flawless faces and upper bodies, it were only the lower bodies of predatory fish that bathed them in a classic image of underwater demons.

    ¡°Mermaids,¡± added the voice in her head. ¡°They charm, enchant, and lie until the sky turns red with shame.¡±

    Salia¡¯s eyelids lowered. These beings were little different from Couvia¡¯s royal guard when they gave long lectures about how infectious demons were. Simultaneously, it almost seemed like a skill one had to have in the world in order to survive.

    People stacked lies on top of lies and balanced their lives on them.

    She didn¡¯t know much about it, had overcome it all with lacklustre honesty. Not even in the face of Vix had she found a few kind words. The world of shenanigans was no home for her.

    ¡°We heard a new heroine had appeared,¡± one mermaid began out of nowhere. Her glossy black hair looked like the shallows of the sea and yet reminded Salia only of charred skin. Her pallor had the same tone as the guards and nobles wore, and the smile on her lips devoured all goodwill.

    ¡°Or even a warlord, depending on whose side she takes,¡± added a second ¨C her hair as red as the blood that had flowed when the demons were captured. ¡°Tell me, will you rest as Vix does, or fight as Mireille longs?¡±

    The answer rolled over Salia¡¯s lips before she could stop it. ¡°Fight. I can¡¯t sit around like my people aren¡¯t dying up there.¡±

    ¡°See, I told you, she¡¯s stupid.¡± With a dismissive wave of her hand, the third mermaid spoke up. The brash look on her round face pierced Salia before she brushed her frizzy hair back with both hands. ¡°If you want to survive, you need to act wisely and not like a peasant child.¡± Her dark brown skin brought the white of her eyes to the fore. ¡°You want to survive, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Without further ado, Salia opened her mouth, only to close it again. She was ready to give hate anything it asked for. Survival was just one of those words that had no place in a war like this.

    ¡°I want revenge,¡± she thus brought upon herself. ¡°No matter the cost.¡±

    ¡°Stupid thing.¡± Sighing, the redhead shrugged. ¡°Forget about revenge.¡±

    ¡°Right, right!¡± The first of them also agreed and clapped her hands. ¡°Take the spear and bring it to the king. Then you, a doomed woman, will be seen as the new heroine of the world.¡±

    ¡°You can have whatever you want.¡± Cautiously, the second of them came closer, the flaming red hair like a warning that made Salia flinch. ¡°You could even marry the princess and acquire a harem of men as concubines ¨C if that¡¯s what they¡¯re called.¡± She spread her arms. ¡°Everything could be yours and you could make a place for all of us because then you¡¯d be in charge.¡±

    It sounded like the smart solution. If she did what was suggested, then she would be able to give her people a normal life.

    ¡°And you will never notice when people don¡¯t follow your rules. There was a time when it was forbidden to rob animals of their fur to wear. So people did it secretly and lied about the inscription.¡± The voice in her head started up again, soft and bitter. ¡°The easy way is always more charming than the truth. Will you stifle anger and watch our kind build on false hope? Watch them kill you and despise you when you are supposed to be the heroine?¡±

    Lips pressed into a line, Salia clenched her fists. The heat inside grew.

    There was no peace above the water. No real calm. All that was found was pretence, madness and fear of the real story ¨C fear of the real deeds that Vix and Mireille had done to protect themselves.

    ¡°I will never get what I want if I become one of them.¡± It was the only truth that resonated in her mind. The only words that seemed real and conformed to that strangely insistent voice in her head. ¡°I can¡¯t look away any longer.¡± She had done that all her life. ¡°I have to do something.¡±

    Because no one else had the power but her.

    She was alone with her gift.

    And though she wanted to give in to the hate, the certainty weighed a little heavier. She didn¡¯t pave her way, didn¡¯t possess the same conscience that Vix had, but it narrowed every breath.

    Her freedom seemed dear all at once.

    ¡°In that case,¡± the redhead shrugged listlessly, ¡°perhaps we should see that you disappear.¡±

    Salia¡¯s brow furrowed. The words on her tongue didn¡¯t loosen.

    ¡°We don¡¯t need a war,¡± the dark-skinned one continued. ¡°We need an alternative, and if you can¡¯t bring it, it¡¯s better to wait for the next Chosen One or hope Vix takes heart.¡±

    They all glued their eyes to her gaunt body. Each of these mermaids threatened to pierce her body solely with their gaze as the sharp claws of their hands lifted and their tails whipped in the water.

    Not even in this place was she welcome.

 Mireilles truth

    They were seconds in which Salia didn¡¯t know how to move. The realisation engulfed her, driving her down into uncertainty, even though she was there to help.

    Still, the water seemed to pull her aside as a claw darted past her face and the hiss of a mermaid roared in her ears.

    Shoulders tense, Salia shook off the kindness of these women and let her gaze slide. They had taken advantage of the careless moment to encircle her. The flowing beauty they carried made it hard to focus on anything else, and yet Salia could barely take her eyes off the claws they were trying to use to destroy her.

    ¡°Why do you stand against me?¡± Fighting without the spear was impossible. She no longer possessed fingernails, her teeth were too normal and her body too weak to stand against three mermaids.

    ¡°All you have to do is call out to me...¡± The voice in her head had receded into the far distance and yet remained the only thing present amidst those gasps.

    ¡°Because we don¡¯t want war,¡± the redhead explained. ¡°We want power. We want the opportunity to live in the way we¡¯ve been denied all these years, without having to build it all ourselves.¡±

    ¡°But if we build it ourselves, then we can shape it the way we want. We could create a world for ourselves!¡± Without understanding, Salia spread her arms. ¡°No one would have to hide anymore. No one-¡°

    ¡°You really don¡¯t get it, do you?¡± she was interrupted gruffly. Brows raised, the dark-skinned one of them shook her head. ¡°Probably why you were chosen.¡± She tapped her head. ¡°The waters lean towards those who cling to a single thing without seeing the rest. Similar to a tsunami that engulfs everything without looking at the consequences.¡±

    Momentarily, Salia opened her mouth, but her voice found no sound.

    She couldn¡¯t claim to be thinking of anything other than revenge. There was no room in her mind for clever plans. All that prevailed in her were the images on the boat. The memory of the dark room where she had been left days before ¨C with a piece of mouldy bread and a bowl of water. Behind that, the chair on which she had screamed and bled as her nails were torn out, accompanied by endless questions, none of which she had answered.

    There was no denying all this had to end. It was the easiest way.

    She swallowed.

    Vix¡¯s reproving voice seemed to sigh in the background. The easiest way was not always the right one. There were alternatives. She could think of ideas-

    ¡°None of them would last for eternity,¡± the voice interrupted her. Any detached thought, removed from the desire for revenge in her bones, fell silent. Emptiness lurked behind. Silent, secretive loneliness that had no answers for her.

    ¡°Have you nothing to say?¡± Again, the dark mermaid demanded an answer, but Salia¡¯s tongue remained motionless.

    Only the taste of blood, the absurd perception of torture on the land, lingered. It made the moment languid. Heated. It clenched her bony hands into fists and made her heart race.

    ¡°The only consequences we¡¯d have to face for our freedom would be starting over, and I wouldn¡¯t say that¡¯s a shame.¡± She pushed through her back. ¡°We¡¯ve started over many times before. It¡¯s an essential part of human beings. We started over after the disaster and we will do it again ¨C better than before. And if you can¡¯t handle it, then it would be better if you stayed here. Forever.¡±

    Hissing punished her with refusal. The claws lifted again, and though the spear was missing, she was ready to fight. She had given up once before, just like that. Letting this second chance pass was out of the question.

    She would fight back with everything she had.

    But she wasn¡¯t a creature of the seas. The water didn¡¯t carry her the same way it carried the mermaids.

    Her legs kicked too slowly to follow the swish of the tail fins. They circled Salia like fresh prey and whenever they swam in her blind spot ¨C where her sightless eye couldn¡¯t make out anyone ¨C she felt the hammering inside.

    The water distorted, moving the images that rushed past her into a storm in the middle of which she found restless calm. Her head darted after the colours, trying to locate the mermaids and failing anew with each successive attempt. Pressure pressed against her body from all sides, forcing Salia to look up and below her. But she couldn¡¯t spot a figure.

    Until the gulping sound of the water shook her ears and her neck snapped with an ugly crack, making her look forward again ¨C in the same breath that claws raced needle-sharp towards her throat and spread before Salia could lift her hands. Nails clutched her throat all at once, while wild red hair took over her vision. The tips dug into the flesh, pushing her body back, down, straight into a position where the kicking of her legs became useless. Bubbles of air rose. The water suffocated her for a moment.

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    And reflex set in.

    Instantly, Salia clenched her hands into fists. One of them she rammed into the mermaid¡¯s face. The strangely firm impact, the speed ¨C the water seemed to offer no less resistance than the fresh air above. It drew blood from the redhead¡¯s lips and brought out her anger so clearly that it pooled between her brows.

    Then she let go of Salia. With momentum, she brought her body into a spin and slammed her tail against Salia¡¯s torso. The force made her upper arm crack. Only for a moment before the impact threw her backwards.

    Roars filled her ears, ached in her hearing, and stopped in the same blink as she crashed back against the facade of the sunken building. The air pressed out of her lungs. Stones bored between her shoulder blades and the water threatened Salia¡¯s sanity. The vision before her eyes blurred, only moving back into view the claws she couldn¡¯t escape.

    But she couldn¡¯t die. Not in this place. Not until she had brought justice.

    Lips pressed together, Salia tried to push herself away from the stone. Her teeth gritted, muscles screamed, but the heat in her chest swallowed every sound even before it could reach her throat.

    Then she opened her mouth. ¡°Help me!¡±

    It wasn¡¯t a cry for aid. Not a cry of desperation. Salia¡¯s voice remained so quiet, so even and yet quivering, that only the vibration in her ears confirmed that she had said something; that she had indeed brought the request to her lips.

    The mermaids, however, missed it. The whisper of their voices, the question of how far they really wanted to go, drowned out the whisper of the sea. They smothered it in useless fantasies that escaped them bloodied a blink later.

    Redness coloured the water darker. Claws lay against the necks of the mermaids. They gasped for breath. The whispering stopped.

    And then the sea crushed them as if they were nothing more than overripe fruit.

    Salia¡¯s eyelids fluttered a few more times, unsure if all this wasn¡¯t just imagination playing tricks on her. But the blood spread like a cloud, bursting over Salia, leaving an unclear image on crushed fins, flowing hair and fleshy bones torn through the skin. Distorted faces stared back at her for another moment ¨C sunken eyes next to broken teeth that had bored into once full lips.

    Hardly later they sank into the depths of the sea, down into sandy soil that swallowed them like a meal.

    Salia¡¯s anger faded. The heat inside dwindled, and what remained was a heaviness that made her shoulders slump. Her hands automatically reached out for the lost mermaids, unable to catch them.

    Was this really what she had wanted?

    These mermaids had been part of her people. They had spent their whole lives in this place. Of course, doubt lived in their hearts and, of course, the fear of change was greater than anything else. But that was no reason to kill anyone.

    ¡°We have no time for doubt.¡± Out of nowhere, Mireille rose from the surrounding shadows. The bloody cloth was still part of her face. ¡°You can¡¯t let these things get to you.¡±

    ¡°But they were part of us...¡± Briefly, Salia put her head back. The siren¡¯s powerful figure still possessed the charm of a washed-out ghost.

    ¡°An old, long-forgotten part that you must sacrifice to save the here and now,¡± Mireille explained. ¡°The old days aren¡¯t what you should be facing. They don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like up there. Not any more. But you do. And all those who live there with you know it too. Take your hate and remind people of the mess they¡¯ve been through before.¡±

    There was no need for a reply. There was nothing Salia could have said to frame all the things that rested fuzzy in the back of her mind. The views that diverged from hate were too transparent for that. She couldn¡¯t grasp a single word behind the curtain of the voice Mireille conjured in her head.

    ¡°Thanks to you, the spear can finally be passed on,¡± the siren continued, unperturbed. ¡°I can leave it in your hands, Salia, because you have enough rage in you for both of us.¡± Her claws lifted. ¡°Vix never understood. She was always too kind, too positive, too hopeful. But you¡¯re different. You¡¯re perfect.¡±

    Eyes fixed on the creature, it became impossible to form a clear thought. The mermaids faded into oblivion. Only Mireille¡¯s words still mattered.

    ¡°A part of me reigns in this spear. You and I ... together we can create the world our hearts have always longed for.¡± Her claws lowered again. ¡°Gratitude ... I can hardly put into words how glad I am that you see what I see.¡±

    Hate. Destruction. The discord of two sides that had once been one. Behind it, greed that had started with a handful of people to infect everyone within reach. And now that very greed ruled Couvia and the entire world.

    Still, there were too many holes in that picture. Too many questions pressed against the veil in her mind, demanding answers.

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you ever do anything? You didn¡¯t need Vix, did you?¡± Her words were little more than a whisper, but when Mireille tilted her head, Salia was sure they had been heard. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you help us?¡±

    The momentary silence that spread between them crushed the fog in Salia¡¯s perception. What remained were hesitant thoughts that clung to the restlessness within her ¨C unable to create clear images.

    ¡°I... I don¡¯t know...¡±, Mireille finally brought herself to say. ¡°I wanted to do something. Vix was going to let me do it. And I came to the surface... But...¡± Her huge hands clutched at her chest.

    The next words failed to come.

    All that spoke in those seconds was her hunched posture. The hands on her chest threatened to tear the fabric, the cloth in front of her face quivered, and her shoulders tightened so much that all at once she seemed far slimmer.

    Salia knew this posture. She had assumed it herself, in captivity, curled up on the floor. She had longed for rescue and had been flooded with fear. She had wanted to see the palace burn, accompanied by the desire not to hurt innocent people.

    The memories were there, taking her to the same side of a simple-minded story.

    Mireille hadn¡¯t gained courage in the face of the world she had seen. Something had stopped her. Perhaps the unknown. The new surroundings and the friendly pretence that people liked to believe. Little things that Salia knew and couldn¡¯t bring her back to her knees.

    ¡°I see,¡± she returned thus, like a gentle breeze. ¡°But you don¡¯t have to be afraid anymore.¡± She reached out to the siren, unable to find conviction in her heart. ¡°I will change things.¡±

 The lies of peace

    It was a promise, a few words that rolled off Salia¡¯s tongue as a matter of course ¨C and Mireille accepted it with a smile.

    ¡°We will make a difference.¡± Slowly, she reached out one of her clawed hands to Salia.

    Contact, she accepted as she placed a hand on a nail. For a moment they agreed, and though the fire inside her burned only half as strong as it had when they first met, the hatred settled deep inside her. The fire no longer needed to burn. It had died down to embers, ready to flare up again when it was time.

    The certainty brought strength with it. A power that tingled under her skin and made her otherwise slender body seem strangely strong. Nothing about her changed and yet she thought she could punch holes in fortresses with her bare hands.

    ¡°I will no longer lurk in your thoughts.¡± Consciously, Mireille withdrew her claw. ¡°The spear will tell you what to do ... and then you will be a superhero.¡±

    Salia had no clue what a superhero was supposed to be, but she knew what a hero was. And for Mireille, she would probably fill that image once Couvia had fallen and the first people begged for forgiveness.

    ¡°I will go to the surface,¡± she stated at the thought. Of course she would. To fix the world, she needed to set foot on the land once more. ¡°But first I must-¡°

    ¡°Take the spear,¡± the siren finished her sentence. ¡°All you have to do is call it.¡±

    ¡°Does it have a name, then?¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯ve heard it many times. Though not in a good context.¡±

    For a moment, Salia stared at the white cloth on the face of the creature opposite her as thoughts danced. A thousand things were negatively tainted, but only one thing possessed the power to strike fear into any demon. Held as a mass grave, no one knew the ancestry of the name that stared menacingly at them whenever they closed their eyes at night.

    ¡°Aywotoc.¡± It escaped her as a whisper. A word they had always run away from and that would now give them a future. So Salia reached a hand out into the nothingness in front of her and asked once more for her miracle. ¡°Aywotoc!¡±

    Murmurs settled in her ears. Her heart thundered against her throat and the certainty that she wasn¡¯t going on a journey alone was reinforced when the spear appeared from the shallows of the sea to nestle against her hand. Instantly, she clutched it tightly with both hands and pressed it to her chest.

    Simultaneously, images flooded her skull. Scenes of long-forgotten days showing her how to wield the power of the sea. Memories that burned into her bones and made her a warrior she wasn¡¯t and yet needed to be. For a moment, she was immortal.

    She was a superhero.

    The salvation of her people, who would determine and rule a new world, to allow no more trouble.

    Salia couldn¡¯t help but arch her back and swell her chest. Alongside all the negative feelings that had accompanied her, radiance seemed to spread. Warmth and tingling, the need to turn to someone and talk about it until you were loved.

    Praises from parents she no longer had. Loving words from demons ¨C no, from humans ¨C who were no longer there.

    Lips pressed together, she kept her eyes firmly on Mireille. She was still a child. A little girl trapped in the body of a gigantic siren who had held on to her own hope all these years. She would praise Salia one day. Surely. And for her, Salia would create peace.

    A world where they could be happy, just as Vix had imagined. The perfect environment where no one had to be afraid anymore.

    ¡°Take me to the coast near Couvia. Take me to the place where I should have died, Aywotoc.¡± She needed no goodbyes, no last words for Mireille, who would wait for her even without them. Instead, Salia dared to take the first step forward.

    The spear tugged at her arms for a moment before she let it carry her. Magically aimed at her target, it chased away, intent on letting the stream glide through Salia¡¯s hair like a light breeze. The sea guided her gently. It led her with kindness, as if it wanted to wash her soul clean one last time before it was too late.

    And only when the breeze stopped and her head broke the surface of the water did all these things end.

    Oxygen filled her wet lungs, making Salia cough and choke until bile burned her throat. Gasping for air was completely foreign during those seconds and yet was nothing more than an old memory she dug out and used. Still, the breaths only slowly calmed and while the spear kept her weight above water, Salia brushed the white hair from her face.

    The sun was already low in the sky and the warmth it spread was slowly suffocating in the surging cold of the falling evening. The sea was breaking waves in isolated places, lapping against the shore, and the breezes settled icily on Salia¡¯s skin. Every piece of cloth Vix had given her stuck to her body, and the weight that suddenly clung to her was much more uncomfortable than the rag she had once worn.

    It wasn¡¯t until she was on land that she felt the extra heavy extensively. Gently rubbing over her skin, her muscles remained motionless and, for a moment, exhaustion was all she knew. To rest in this place, to forget the struggle and grief for a single heartbeat, seemed tempting. But Couvia was less than two days away ¨C by cart ¨C and the sooner she arrived, the earlier all this would end.

    Groaning, she scrambled to her feet. The spear remained in the sea. It would come when she called it and until then she would be nothing more than a simple demon on her way home to a land that would kill her.

    The grains of sand crunched under her soles as she pushed forward. The first steps were so loud that she thought they could be heard for miles. The rest convinced her otherwise. She knew the sound, and she knew how quiet it actually was.

    But it was only when meadow got under her feet that the world became a little quieter. It brought with it enough room to allow her shoulders to tremble and notice the flaws in her own appearance. She was wet, tired, and the rumbling that loosened in her guts was a reminder that she had hardly eaten anything in all this time.

    A hand on her belly stopped the motions but didn¡¯t fill the emptiness that made her steps sway and drag. From the cages, she had seen no place capable of feeding her on the way away from Couvia, yet to wander for two days without food would kill her. Her body was too frail to endure. The ribs of her chest had been sticking out clearly for months and her arms could be trapped, up to her shoulder, between her thumb and middle finger.

    With those lanky arms, she would lead Aywotoc. She would need every bit of strength her body could give and for that, she had to arrive at the kingdom at least halfway fit.

    Half in thought, she lowered her head. Her steps just stopped at the first tree on the open dirt path and the shadow enveloped her gloomily. Her throat was parched. Every breath rattled. Below the water, it had all seemed easy, but back on land, the effort was greater than she remembered.

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    Leaning her shoulder against the tree trunk, Salia took a breath. Pinpricks coursed through her guts, making hunger troublesome and her vision dim. Though the sun had almost disappeared behind the end of the world and the air clung to her in a chill, though her shoulders shook, heat bubbled beneath her skin. Heat that tracked no emotion but was simply there, as if the disease of cowards was spreading.

    A sickness that wanted to urge her to turn around and go back. Or maybe just a flu that seemed completely moronic in the face of her ideas.

    Whatever it was, it held her to that tree trunk and made her close her eyes. Rest lurked in the blackness of her senses, pressing against her. Something other than unplanned exhaustion that she couldn¡¯t control.

    Frogs croaked in the background, forming an orchestra with distant chirps of birds intoning their last melodies. The sound of wheels clattering over the path, recalling long journeys she had never taken ¨C and making Salia falter in the very next breath.

    Immediately, she snapped her eyes open and glanced down the path. There was emptiness in front of her, but behind her, at a corner that distantly followed the sea, a cart turned up. Horse hooves dragged dully along the path and the wooden wheels creaked whenever they rolled over a stone. A fat man had taken the seat, an old hat pulled dirty low on his face.

    If she overpowered him, she would get to Couvia faster. Then she would save energy and perhaps find something to eat. All she had to do was wait, jump on the cart, and throw him off.

    But the wheels slowed down and when the sturdy horse came to a halt beside her, the heart raced so fast in Salia¡¯s chest that she couldn¡¯t bring herself to move.

    ¡°Hey, gal, ya¡¯re a demon, ain¡¯t ya?¡± He tapped the brim of his hat twice. ¡°The horns are splendid, but we don¡¯t live in a time where you flash that to everyone.¡± He waved it off briefly. ¡°You need a hat?¡±

    He neither attacked her nor seemed to want to run away screaming. Still, Salia kept her eyes on him as she shook her head. A reaction that only made him shrug his shoulders before he pushed the hat off his face, revealing round, weather-beaten features. ¡°Where ya goin¡¯?¡±

    ¡°Couvia,¡± Salia returned curtly.

    ¡°Ah, the walls of unlimited dickheads.¡± Unnerved, he pulled his nose back and spat on the ground. ¡°Ya know they¡¯re drowning you?¡±

    ¡°They tried that once.¡± By now, she was leaning back against the trunk. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you try to get away as quickly as possible? I¡¯m dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Ya?¡± He choked on his own laugh before coughing and rubbing his eyes. ¡°Gal, from the looks of ya, the wind is wiping the windows clean with ya.¡±

    ¡°An injury from me can be contagious.¡±

    ¡°Old wives¡¯ tales, I tell you. Nothing but old wives¡¯ tales.¡±

    His raised, bushy grey eyebrows made Salia wrinkle her nose. This man didn¡¯t believe in the idiocy being spread in Couvia, and he didn¡¯t give a damn about her form either. He was unlike the people she knew and yet nothing more than one of them.

    At least, that was when he gestured to the seat beside him with a nod and put on a crooked, gap-toothed smile. ¡°Would ya like me to drive ya to the gallows?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d give me a lift?¡±

    ¡°On my way to the shit down there, might as well bring back a souvenir.¡± He shrugged his shoulders. ¡°It¡¯s only for two days, but I¡¯ve got food for twenty. Maybe we¡¯ll get some meat on those bones if we try to fill ya up, oh great demon.¡±

    His joke didn¡¯t go down well with her, but it was an offer that was hard to refuse with a thundering stomach and weak legs. Added to that, he didn¡¯t convey the image of a classic Couvian. He came from another kingdom and the fact he didn¡¯t fear her or immediately throw stones was enough to make her at least not want him dead straight away.

    Even as her thoughts weighed the offer, he reached into the cart behind him and pulled out an apple. Red and shiny and tasty, the likes of which Salia hadn¡¯t seen in ages. The growl in her stomach demanded something, and ultimately, she was no longer a weak child who didn¡¯t know how to fight back. She had gained powers. The spear would come to her aid if necessary.

    So she accepted the offer. Her skinny fingers reached for the apple and then for the offered hand, which helped her to climb up. The wood pressed firmly against her bottom and the apple cracked as she bit into it.

    For the first time, she tasted the sweetness of this fruit. All the things she could never have had before.

    And when she was handed a thin blanket shortly afterwards, life seemed a little better than it had been in the run-down slums of the demons. It seemed like everything was just getting better.

    ¡°Ya¡¯re all wet,¡± the man began barely later. ¡°Did ya take swimming lessons in case they try to drown ya?¡±

    ¡°Sort of.¡±

    ¡°With clothes on?¡±

    ¡°It gives me strength.¡±

    ¡°True, true!¡± He slapped his thigh. ¡°We should rest soon. It won¡¯t be long before it¡¯s black as night and this horse demands its beauty sleep.¡± He snorted. ¡°And yet it¡¯s really ugly.¡±

    ¡°Does it matter?¡± Brows raised, and the blanket wrapped tightly around her torso, Salia glanced at the stranger.

    ¡°Nah!¡± He laughed. ¡°It¡¯s a good horse. But ugly it is too.¡±

    She had no understanding of what a nice horse should look like or what was wrong with this one. It had an overbite, the teeth were peeking out a bit and were clearly yellowed. It walked a little inwards and its ears were tiny in proportion to its head, but it was definitely a horse with a shaggy mane.

    Just a horse.

    Slowly, Salia¡¯s fingertips inched their way to her horns. She was probably ugly too, if this horse already was. In Couvia, she had seen many people and most of them had looked great. They were plumper than Salia, not as awfully pale, their bodies were nicely shaped and not just a skinny line that was easily overlooked. Some of them had shiny hair, and although Salia had often dipped her own in mud, knowing that it was supposed to be good for something, her white strands were straw-like.

    And she had horns. Curved, black horns like the ones you sometimes saw on rams. All of which probably made her ugly. Just like the horse.

    Her musings carried her into the night, where the sun had disappeared and the croaking of the frogs became more monotonous. The cart stopped at the side of the road, where a few trees gathered and offered to tie the horse to. The goods the man dragged with him included four blankets, food and a kettle, which he dug out with difficulty to set up.

    By the time the fire crackled under it and they had both found a comfortable position nearby, while potatoes and other vegetables bubbled, the air had cooled.

    ¡°I hope ya can eat well, child.¡± Groaning, he dug three wooden spoons and a fork out of his utensils. ¡°The pot has to be cleared or there¡¯ll be a mess when I have to load it up again.¡±

    Meaningfully, he handed her one spoon, and Salis gave it a nod. They would eat directly from the kettle. The simplest option.

    As she dipped the wood into the bubbling mass, she heard herself swallow. This kettle contained the first hot meal in six years. And when she put the first spoonful in her mouth and felt the comforting warmth in her stomach a little later, a whole cauldron didn¡¯t seem enough to satisfy her hunger.

    There was something peaceful about the silence that spread during the meal. Unlike the dull pressure that water brought, it was real serenity that lurked here. The darkness cradled her in safety. No one was on her heels and for a moment the change of this world was no longer in her hands either.

    Vix¡¯s idea of travelling was suddenly terribly real. With this man not running from her, she could see the world and perhaps know the place from which he had come. One of the other kingdoms that dealt with their demons much more peacefully than Couvia did.

    It was a fantasy that eventually pushed food to the back of her mind and allowed fatigue to take over. Caught up in the bare idea of how beautiful something could be, how she could shake it all off for a moment as the glow within her rested tentatively, consumed her. It dragged her into sweet dreams in which she could rest. Blackness rocked her gently in its arms and pressed her tightly against it until clanking in the background brought a gentle melody.

    It was reminiscent of the rustling of the chains she had worn. A placid rustle that she listened to and yet made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

    ¡°Wake up...¡± A voice in the background reached out to her. The distant call, however, beaded off.

    ¡°You must wake up, Salia.¡± The insistence became clearer, tearing at her calmness, which Salia tried to cling to with everything she had.

    ¡°Wake up!¡±

    Her eyes snapped open and the burning of her vision drove tears to her lower lids. Simultaneously, she recognised the old man, whose hands held an iron chain tightly. He had moved closer and if she hadn¡¯t known better, he would have been just a man with a chain.

    But the heavy rings, a visibly perfect fit around her wrists and neck, sent adrenaline coursing through her bones.

    Instantly she jumped to her feet, gaining two steps of distance, and regarded the pleading look of the man she had almost, in false naivety, mistaken for a friend.

    ¡°Why?¡± She still had to ask, her voice quivering at the top of her lungs.

    ¡°Because ya will be a lot better off,¡± he replied. ¡°If I take ya to my homeland and sell ya there, ya¡¯ll live a fine life as an exotic creature.¡± He tightened his chains. ¡°Look at ya, will ya? Skinny and hungry. That¡¯s no life. But ya are real pretty and the rich will gladly take in someone like ya. A relaxed life as a trophy babe ... that¡¯s something.¡±

    Maybe it was. A life of peace.

    But it wasn¡¯t an option.

    She wasn¡¯t a pet; she wasn¡¯t a toy.

    ¡°I am a human being...¡± she realised all at once. Exactly what Vix had explained to her. She was nothing more than a slightly out-of-shape human.

    ¡°Tis what ya are,¡± he affirmed. ¡°But not in the way expected. Better off up there...¡±

    And maybe she really would be.

 Satisfaction

    Peace was all she needed. For herself. For the others of her people, and for all those who didn¡¯t know any better.

    The thought of being able to live a peaceful life seemed pleasant, but it was not enough. It wasn¡¯t what she needed to do to put a smile on Mireille¡¯s face. Not what it took to be a superhero.

    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± she finally returned to the man. Her decision found little acceptance in the face of the best options.

    The chain remained firmly in his hands. The rattle of metal invited her to a dance, brought Salia slowly to her feet. For once, she wouldn¡¯t go down without a fight. She had come too far to bend to someone else¡¯s will again.

    Slowly, she brought herself back to an upright position. The friendship she could have had faded into the background of the facts she embraced both. His gaze was glued to her as if he were trying to corner a frightened rabbit. But Salia wasn¡¯t a rabbit. Not for a long time.

    Before the stranger could react, she rushed forward. Calling Aywotoc was pointless. Those seconds were her fight. Her decision. Her will to change something significant ¨C to prove to herself that she could fight.

    Her skinny arms flailed around his torso as the rest of her body bumped against him, almost like a light breeze. Still, he let go of the chain in the purest surprise, sending it crashing to the ground between them. Simultaneously, Salia gathered what little courage her will could muster. The throbbing in her chest burned. Her hands stuck to the fabric of his clothes. And when she opened her mouth, she thought she could already taste him.

    But his taste only really reached her mouth when her teeth dug into his throat. Skin pressed against her tongue, and blood filled her mouth. A scream escaped her companion, making him grab Salia¡¯s hair and pull hard.

    She slipped off, tearing part of his skin with her as if it were made of paper, and spat the blood into his eyes. Then she let go, stumbling backwards as he rubbed his face to douse the flames of his own life. Part of his top turned red. Spots spread out.

    Without thinking, Salia started moving. The kettle was still standing around, near the fire, which crackled meaninglessly. She reached for the heavy iron but failed because of the weight. So her fingers wrapped around the top iron handle.

    The stranger, meanwhile, sought a foothold. He staggered, trying to follow Salia, though he could barely see her and his hands still rubbed over his now watery eyes. He opened one a slit wide now and then, only to comment on the pain with a snort. Still, he drew closer and just when he seemed within reach, Salia tightened her grip.

    With all the power her puny arms could muster, she yanked the kettle aside. The momentum of her whole body helped, transferred to the iron, which swept her along barely a second later. Once around her own axis before she aimed the second turn in her last breath and it bounced against heavy resistance.

    The dull throb that came up and travelled tremulously through Salia¡¯s arms made her let go. The stranger crashed to the ground, kettle and all, a laceration on his head and blood on his face.

    The rattle on his tongue still conveyed life. A fight he would win if she found someone to help him. A brief, loathsome thought. There was no help on her path. He had jumped her with all his conviction and she had to kill him with all her heart.

    The saliva on her tongue was too dry to swallow silently. Her shoulders shook. Her perception wavered and yet dared not rob her of her senses. Instead, Salia made a decision.

    In a few steps, she went to the horse to untie it and harness it once more to the cart. Then she sat down in the seat she had previously shared with someone else.

    A quick twist of the reins set the horse in motion, and a tug to the right side steered it. Unlike her, the animal had no reason to look down and while it advanced, the wheels cracked as they rolled over the man. The weight would do the rest.

    Only when she had gained a few metres of distance, did she cast another glance over her shoulder. He was still lying there, motionless and abandoned. The blood had stained the dirty ground beneath him a little darker, and although the sun wouldn¡¯t rise for the next endless hours, Salia was sure it was enough to confirm his death.

    The journey remained in her hands alone.

    And she began the trip with a faint beat of the reins.

    <hr>

    The walls of Couvia were higher than anything within. Not even the royal palace, built on ten-metre-high marble, peeked out from behind.

    Someone had once told her it was a sixty-metre high stone structure in which people had been walled in, as had been the case many years ago. And as creepy as this story had sounded ten years ago, Salia was sure it was true.

    The cloak, equipped with a hood, that covered her body, had carried her across the track unseen. No one had asked questions and guards had simply passed her by because no demon was rich enough for a cart and all the goods the previous owner of it had carried.

    The ugly horse had done faithful service all this time and its clattering hooves as they entered the stone of the city, ignored by the guards at the side posts, had something distantly melodic about it.

    Wheels rattled over the bumps, joyous chatter of the people filtered through to her and though the last deeds had brought a bit of freedom, all that remained in this place was memory. The narrow confidence that what she was planning was the right way to make a significant difference.

    Heavy fabrics adorned the bodies of well-fed women. Sticky perfume polluted the air. Jewellery jingled and if Salia hadn¡¯t known better, she would have guessed it was a rich country with pampered figures. But she knew the truth.

    Couvia had constructed itself in a way that beauty was the first thing to be seen. Everything the heart desired was available on a main path that led straight from the gate to the palace. Those who wanted to see the truth had to turn and follow the alleys. At the edge of the wall waited the slums.

    The slums of this city were so crowded that some people even had to sleep under the same roof with demons. They were useful gatherings that only served the purpose of someone selling a demon to the guards and making ends meet for a fortnight with the money. That was how most of the prisoners came about. The guards didn¡¯t bother looking for the plague when most would have sold even their own mother for money.

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    Wrinkling her nose, Salia lowered her head. Probably it looked like this in every kingdom because one wanted everything and left nothing for the rest. The kingdom¡¯s fighters ate themselves fat, and the citizens got the bones.

    ¡°Hey! Hey, wait!¡± The sudden voice that followed Salia and immediately brought a little girl to the fore made her pull on the reins of the horse.

    When she stopped, the girl stumbled in front of the carriage and tilted her head. Her wild blonde curls and big green eyes made her look like a doll ¨C like one of those porcelain things you could find in shop windows if you looked hard enough.

    ¡°Where¡¯s Grandfather?¡± Her innocent, childish voice sent goosebumps down Salia¡¯s body. Her mere presence conveyed everything that had gone wrong in this kingdom ¨C she was one of those children who knew no danger because the main path was always safe.

    ¡°Grandfather?¡± Inevitably, Salia raised her brows.

    The girl nodded. ¡°That¡¯s his cart. I know Poppino.¡± She put a hand on the horse¡¯s thigh. ¡°He always takes Grandfather where he needs to be.¡±

    Briefly, Salia glanced at the horse. It had a name, an owner, and probably even a family. She knew nothing about this animal except that it worked and lived on reins. Learning more made it a little more familiar ¨C even if it didn¡¯t matter anymore. This horse would take her as far as the palace and then he would be free.

    ¡°Where is he?¡± the girl meanwhile repeated. Her tiny feet bobbed up and down and the gleam in her eyes spoke of expectation that Salia could only smile at. ¡°Did he jump off the wagon to buy hot potatoes? He does that a lot. He says Couvia¡¯s potatoes taste the best!¡±

    The breath on Salia¡¯s lips remained strangely loose. Seeing this girl with those big eyes, hearing her voice and seeing her hopes blossom, put a fine tingle on her skin. A feeling of satisfaction because she knew what those seconds in a child¡¯s skin felt like and also what would happen if she told her the truth.

    The dirty, bloody truth that would turn those shining eyes into dull balls. Just as it had once been with her.

    The same look. The same hope.

    The laugh of a man.

    The fact he had let her go then, so she would grow up and be more fun to chase.

    Salia still remembered his words, and she took them in deeply as she leaned forward a little to be closer to the girl.

    And she heard the man¡¯s voice as if it were only yesterday.

    ¡°Your parents are dead, dear. They tried to fight back ¨C now don¡¯t cry, of course they did ¨C and that¡¯s why I had to kill them. But I can assure you it was painless. Your exceedingly ... rotten mother only needed two blows to the chest before her ribs cracked. Her lungs quickly filled with blood. I swear. Here, I raise my hand and swear. Your father took a little longer. His fangs were really a challenge for the iron chains we used to tie him down to pull him behind the cart. So we shipped him off to Aywotoc, as good guardsmen should. Now don¡¯t look like that. Drowning is quick.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± The girl¡¯s question snapped Salia out of her thoughts.

    Her mouth closed and although she thought she hadn¡¯t said a word, the child¡¯s chalky white face spoke of something else.

    She had spoken. And she had adapted it, certainly, to set the scene for her grandfather¡¯s death.

    ¡°As I was saying,¡± Salia began consciously once more, ¡°your grandfather is dead. And you should leave before you too fall under the wheels of this cart.¡±

    The little girl opened her mouth in disbelief, but closed it again. Her shoulders shook, her fingers had clawed into the light blue dress she wore, and her sparkling green eyes reflected half the world as the first tears broke from them.

    Had she looked like that then, too? Had she also stopped when she had been advised to run away because otherwise they would tie her to the cart in her father¡¯s place?

    Salia¡¯s lips pressed together. She had reacted almost exactly like that girl, except that she had been dirtier and thinner and less pretty. She had simply become an orphan in one blow ¨C just like so many others.

    No big deal.

    Not in the slums.

    But here it was different. This girl was sobbing and snot was running down to her mouth before she wiped her nose with bare arms, only making it worse. The tears wouldn¡¯t stop running, and the sudden hiccup that settled in her throat made Salia wince.

    Inward satisfaction suddenly hung leaden in her chest, complicating every other breath and tugging at her shoulders. But that too was a price she had to pay. This girl wouldn¡¯t have to suffer any longer than necessary.

    And besides, they deserved it. All of them.

    Still, she only hesitantly snapped the reins and continued to spur the horse on. The girl jumped to the side, clung tighter to her dress, and yet only watched as Salia continued on her way to the palace. She neither made a sound nor drew more attention to herself than necessary.

    Bony hands wrapped tightly around the reins, Salia tried to banish the memories in her mind. The nightmares she had dragged with her then had only faded when, six years later, she had believed that perhaps she still had a mission in life ¨C a reason they hadn¡¯t killed her that day. A vague idea that had turned out to be true and had ultimately stuck to her like resin when now, a few years later, they had wanted to drown her in Aywotoc.

    The rattle of the cart no longer allowed her to drift away, pressing her into the here and now, where people went about their business as if she were nothing more than a shadowy figure, with goods on their way to a place they didn¡¯t imagine.

    It was only when the dwellings and stalls thinned out, when a fountain of clear water and marble fish statue came to the fore, that Salia¡¯s grip loosened. The throbbing in her chest squeezed the air from her lungs. Heat warmed her skin from within. A tingling sensation stretched across her back and though she tried to suppress it, her shoulders shook in resonance.

    Slowly, she circled the fountain and approached the steps to the palace. Gleaming white that led up to the entrance and at the foot of which two guardsmen waited wide-legged for troublemakers.

    ¡°Stop right there!¡± When one of them caught sight of Salia, he raised both hands. An almost friendly gesture, which she complied with. ¡°Who are you? What are you transporting?¡±

    She had no clue what she was transporting, and her name would mean nothing to anyone. She was left only to stare at the man trying to fathom her presence as the other approached in ambling steps.

    Once, Salia took a deep breath. She had to be ready, had to dare, had to make her way. So she reached for the hem of the hood and slid it down with a quick pull.

    The reaction followed immediately.

    While the man in front of her stumbled back with a sharp hiss, the other ran the last few feet towards Salia ¨C but not fast enough when she raised her hand.

    ¡°Aywotoc! Be on my side!¡± Her voice seemed to echo. Barely audible, yet louder than the sound of water lapping over the marble fish.

    As she curled her fingers, ready to hold something that would bring her victory, cold steel rushed into her hand. She found a grip.

    And her first movement chased the tip straight down to the guardsman, who had finally reached her and placed a hand on the hilt of the sword. The diamond coursed through his throat as if he were nothing more than an overripe apple.

    Blood spurted up in tiny beads and dried up in an instant, merely pooling on stone as the man toppled backwards and hit the ground.

    The other, who had stumbled back, brought no motion to himself. He simply watched as Salia leapt from the cart and, with nimble movements that hardly seemed hers, cut the horse¡¯s harness. Then she slapped the horse¡¯s backside, giving it a reason to run away.

    Not for a second did she take her eyes off the dead man. The gurgling for air had only lasted a moment. What remained was a lifeless body, a lost life that she might have snatched from a family or someone else. A death that made her heart flutter.

    It was wonderful.

    Shoulders straightened, she swung the spear in her hand. It was a part of her, a weapon she could wield without knowing how. Aywotoc taught her how to fight and she gave it the opportunity to be guided in her hands. A balance they created that made her steps more confident as she strode towards the remaining guardsman.

    Instantly, he opened his mouth. He could have shot her. For sure. Hanging from his belt was one of those pistols you sometimes saw when you weren¡¯t fearing for your life. But his trembling fingers remained immobile enough for Salia to lunge out with the spear.

    The blade slashed his head from his shoulders. His skull slammed dully to the side, rolled in a semicircle back to his body and bumped against his now motionless hand. The rest of him toppled backwards to dip the stone in a bloody mosaic, graced by the shocked expression that would adorn his face until he reached the ground ¨C if he ever got there.

    The lightness Aywotoc left in her body made Salia¡¯s next steps bouncy. It was too good to be true. For once, she had the upper hand. The clouds in her mind blurred the worries of what was to come next and revenge seemed all at once a game of purest satisfaction.

    It filled her, pressed against her skin, and promised never to let her go.

    If she stayed on this path, happiness would finally be on her side.

 The last decision

    Her skin was on fire. Every inch of her existence tingled in the face of the palace, whose entrance drew closer with every step. The spear in her hands weighed only as much as a thin branch and the thrill of her perception burned part of her fingertips. Her legs carried her up without hesitation. The diamond tip shimmered. The light broke; and at the latest, when the guards at the upper post caught sight of her appearance, uneasiness settled in unfamiliar bodies.

    A demon had advanced to the palace. One of those eyesores that should all be drowned or burned; one of those things they should have expelled. But Salia wasn¡¯t like the others. She wasn¡¯t one of those monsters who no longer knew how to fight back.

    And she enjoyed the power a little more with every breath. To decide for herself was the freedom she had never lived out so freely before.

    Demonstratively, she let the diamond scrape over the stony steps. The sound sent shivers down her own body, pushing the throbbing in her chest up to her throat, and as her opponents drew their weapons ¨C smart pistols, like the other two had failed to use ¨C her hand tightened a little more around the holster.

    The guns lifted, took aim at Salia, but didn¡¯t get around to pulling the trigger. Her will overpowered her body, made her lunge out with her spear and throw it with force toward a guard. Haltlessly, it bore through the man¡¯s chest, eliciting a gasp and forcing the gun back down.

    His partner allowed himself to be distracted for a moment. Shock consumed him in a few breaths before he caught himself and turned to Salia ¨C the demon girl already standing before him.

    The breath on her lips was hot as her gaze slid up to him. Clenching her hand into a fist, she punched him in the chin from below. Resistance pressed against her knuckles, aching in her fingers and making her counterpart stagger. His steps on the stairs wavered. Indecisive and unsteady, causing Salia to venture a step to the side, taking advantage of his lack of balance. Her hands brushed against his shoulders, robbing him of his footing. His soles stepped on the edge of the step, slipped, and a breath later, he hit the side of the stairs.

    It tore him down; each step grazed his body. His flesh rolled sideways, his head hit the edges, and only when he reached the bottom and stopped moving did Salia turn away from him.

    Her light-footed steps led her to the dead man, behind whom the spear had bored into the stone of the step. In her hands it weighed strangely light, less than before, though it was stuck and she had to give it two good tugs to free it from the stone. It seemed as if every death made the world a little better ¨C improved it. As if purification was easier than anything else. Maybe that was the future she could win for her kind. A simple world where there were no problems that weighed so heavily that one thought they would be crushed under them. An ideal place for each of them.

    The thought drove the sweat in her palms to the back of her mind. The flames under which her body faded cooled her senses. Her steps remained buoyant, livelier than ever. And though she expected more guards, more soldiers, more anything, no one got in her way. Not until she pushed open the front door of the palace and set foot straight into the throne room.

    The first evil to be seen when auditioning for the king was this pompous hall that couldn¡¯t even house normal people. The silence that hung along the walls and smiled at her was only broken by the clatter of a few swords flashing on either side.

    A handful of men had lined up on either side of the red central path, as if they had discussed something earlier. On the throne, a few steps above them, rested their king. The man who had driven them all into this misery.

    Nose wrinkled, Salia felt the throbbing in her chest that seemed to bruise her ribs. Then she pointed the spear at the crown. This moment was hers. The certainty told her she could have easily killed everyone in this room. All she had to do was to grant the spear free will and it would move her body in a way that made her immortal.

    But the mermaids¡¯ talk still sat in the back of her mind. Getting more than that, destroying the world from within, almost sounded like something she could handle. An idea that made her jut her chin and raise her voice.

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    ¡°I am the chosen of the sacred spear, as you can see, and I came to claim what is mine.¡± Her family. Her life. A future. Everything she had never saved and now wanted to outweigh in fresh blood.

    But all she was met with was whispers among those who weren¡¯t part of the royal family. Behind them, an old man whose black beard was already streaked with white hair. A king who didn¡¯t deserve that title and yet looked down on her ¨C brows drawn together and hands clenched. His expression spoke of disgust.

    ¡°How can it be that a mistake of society has been chosen?¡± His voice quivered. ¡°I cannot comprehend the will of the sacred weapon, but as king, it is my duty even to ... reward someone like you.¡±

    He didn¡¯t sound convinced, and no matter how Salia looked at it, he wasn¡¯t willing to give up more than was necessary. Not even the legends they all raved about were enough to make them realise that something had gone terribly wrong at some point. They weren¡¯t capable of accepting a freak when there were better things in the world than ugly people with ugly deformities.

    ¡°I allow you to live and spend your life somewhere far away from Couvia. That is all I can give you. Now get out of my sight, you misshapen thing.¡± With a dismissive wave of his hand, he tried to shoo her away, but Salia didn¡¯t budge ¨C not an inch.

    It was almost unbelievable how short-sighted this man looked down on her, acting as if she was just another ant he ruled. A ¡°thing¡± he didn¡¯t have to pay attention to and who had the audacity to take the legendary spear for itself. In his eyes, she was little more than what they hunted every day.

    ¡°But father!¡± Only the bright voice of a young woman, barely older than Salia, broke the tense atmosphere.

    Heads jerked up to the throne, then most bowed and before the king could object, the stranger danced down the steps in light strides. The summer yellow dress on her body highlighted the wild red hair and the brown eyes sparkled with life Salia had never seen before. This woman looked like someone who had never seen the world out there, and she seemed to stop at nothing as she threw her arms around Salia¡¯s neck.

    ¡°We shouldn¡¯t treat a hero like this. She may look a little changed, but she¡¯s still no different from us!¡± She broke away from Salia slightly. ¡°Father, don¡¯t you think the higher powers are trying to tell us something by passing the spear to someone who would otherwise be hunted?¡±

    She didn¡¯t know that there were dead people outside the palace. She had no idea what kind of monster lurked inside Salia. Instead, she simply spoke as if she knew about the suffering of those who were perishing out there.

    The tightness in Salia¡¯s chest flamed. Simultaneously, she raised her hand, ready to snap the neck of this stranger ¨C the princess. But she barely reached the woman¡¯s waist-length hair as she turned to her, presenting a radiant smile as her father gasped.

    ¡°I am one of yours,¡± she brought to her lips, loud enough for everyone to hear. ¡°We all are. We are all part of the same path and all part of the same species. Some have merely been blessed with different weapons.¡±

    The warmth emanating from this stranger faded as she broke away from Salia and took a few steps back. Hands clasped behind her back, she spun once in a circle with a flourish so that her dress fluttered like a bell across the red carpet.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± Only the king¡¯s thunderous voice brought the redhead to a halt. ¡°You don¡¯t know enough about the world outside and even less about the poisonous claws of demons. Be an obedient child and go back into the palace!¡±

    ¡°But father, I hugged that girl and don¡¯t feel like I¡¯ve been poisoned.¡± She snorted. ¡°Superstition, all superstition!¡±

    It was the first time anyone had stood up for Salia. The first time anyone from the normal humans had stood there to speak out for the demons. Almost as if she had nothing to fear because she didn¡¯t know the hell out there.

    And maybe it was a good thing.

    She was untainted and pure. A woman who might make a difference, and yet had nothing to say. Her body was so puny and weak that she didn¡¯t even fight back when two soldiers grabbed her and dragged her back inside. She just let it happen, as if her words were only a deaf front behind which she could stand but not defend.

    ¡°And you, get out.¡± Again the king gestured for her to leave, and though Salia¡¯s gaze still lingered on this young woman, she shuffled her feet back a little.

    In another life, in a less messed up country, this princess might have been a sign of hope. A person who changed everything. But this life was no different and the glimmer of this woman was suffocated when she allowed herself to be taken away.

    There was no more hope for this life.

    Slowly, Salia¡¯s gaze fixed on the king again, and her legs came to a stop. Her movements stopped. ¡°I will kill you.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I will kill you,¡± Salia repeated her harsh, hopeless tone. ¡°Today, civilisation will fall and you will go with it. Far away into the shallows of Aywotoc.¡±

    She raised the spear.

    There was nothing left worth saving. All that remained was the wallowing retribution within her. Seething hatred that was ready to destroy everything that had ever hurt her. It wouldn¡¯t be long before Couvia would be nothing more than a legend. A story that no one was interested in anymore.

 Clarity

    Her muscles groaned as the spear vibrated. Tension ran through her body, ate through her perception and seemed to rob her of what little strength she had carried in her body before. She felt the tremor in her legs, under her soles, and the marble drew its first cracks.

    Stones beaded from the ceiling as the king jumped up and yelled something indistinctly. Salia couldn¡¯t hear it, couldn¡¯t understand it, remained trapped somewhere in the feeling of cotton wool that lulled her. It no longer mattered who had anything to say. The guards trembled at their sides, the king ran away, and the sound of bursting rock pressed into the newly formed cracks.

    With both hands, Salia clutched the spear and listened. Eyes fixed on the ceiling, she waited for something to happen, for the world around her to disappear ¨C but it was a far cry from what she was really being offered.

    Distant static rattled across her perception. Almost as if thousands of boulders were making a distant journey into a low valley. In the next breath, the ceiling above her ripped away.

    Smaller slabs broke, crashing to the ground and smashing the marble to pieces. The largest chunks, however, were carried away, drifting with a wave that threatened to lay over the castle like an avalanche. The water crashed down, crushing the columns and taking paintings with it. Only the spot where Salia stood remained dry.

    Wetness spilled over the edges of some steps, engulfing them and dragging them down to tear holes in the walls and drop off into no-man¡¯s-land further back. In between, people. Guards who tried to hold on but found no foothold. Men drowning beneath the waves. Corpses that hadn¡¯t survived the first impact of this force of nature.

    The water took the side walls of the castle, eating away at the splendour and bringing the open sky to the fore. Instantly, Salia glanced over her shoulder.

    Her heart hammered against her ribs.

    Her mouth was parched.

    The sea had spread. It arched under a missing storm, slapping facades and pavements that couldn¡¯t withstand the force. Screams filled the alleys, the water, the air. They all tried to escape and yet drowned barely a breath later.

    Stuffed animals floated away, clothes and belongings that no one but ordinary people had possessed. The little girl who had scared them off earlier was probably already dead. So were all the corrupted guards who had ever laid hands on the demons.

    Her vision slid over the radiance of her power under bright sunshine. A glow that shimmered blue, drenched itself in red and made Salia lower her spear. Attention lingered on the puddles amidst the sea, tiny specks that had crushed and squeezed bodies, draining the life from them. All at once, blood mingled with the devouring mass that listened solely to her commands and yet didn¡¯t stop hunting the humans. Not even when her grip on the spear loosened.

    Her body feasted on the freedom, on the fact that there was no one out there who could still harm her. She no longer had to be afraid, no longer had to keep her eyes open and hope that people wouldn¡¯t find her.

    Simultaneously, every free breath robbed her of some of the joy that leapt up and down inside her. The haste of her heart remained, but the throbbing grew painful and the sweat on her skin made the clothes sticky. Itches spread. Her breathing became heavier. Exhaustion was a long way off and yet Salia thought her eyes just fell shut as the next building collapsed deafeningly and the quake sent renewed ripples across the water, which had already reached the second floor of most of the buildings.

    The waves seemed to calm down, and yet they didn¡¯t let up. They rose like tentacles of a sea monster she had never seen before and smashed what was in the way.

    Salia, meanwhile, immersed herself in blackness.

    Behind her eyelids, there was a different peace. One in which it wasn¡¯t so loud; in which the screams didn¡¯t exist and in which she no longer had to struggle for something that was suddenly within her grasp and yet wasn¡¯t what she had hoped for.

    Would it not have been better if the king had simply surrendered? If they had simply accepted her, all this would never have happened.

    Probably.

    Emptiness settled on her shoulders like a shroud. No more palpitations. No desire. No dreams. Nothing.

    What remained was the small flame that had so laboriously nourished her before. A hatred that had driven her and drowned beneath the waves. It was now only a faint light. A burning ember that grew darker with every breath.

    Until there was nothing left.

    So she opened her eyes.

    The world before her wrapped itself in wasteland. Stones slapped the water. The screams had died away. Hasty shouts still echoed in the background and yet Couvia had surrendered to her hatred. Rage that had been extinguished along with the people of this city.

    Aywotoc slipped from her fingers, thundered to the floor, rang in her ears and yet only made Salia slump her shoulders. The image before her should have made her laugh. Joy towards the dominion she had gained all by herself. Instead, silence lurked in her guts. The same crushing silence that Couvia exuded in those seconds.

    The destruction had passed. The waves were ebbing. No one cared anymore about what had happened ¨C no one was left.

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    Slowly, Salia lowered her gaze to her thin hands. The unconscious tremor reached to her fingertips and the heaviness in her chest constricted her throat all at once.

    Was this what she had wanted?

    The cotton wool that had usually bedded her, that had kept her mind off the thoughts and steered her in a different direction, was gone. Almost as if the voice in her head had lost all its power along with the hatred. What remained were doubts. Questions. An infinite number of things she couldn¡¯t answer.

    She would have to conquer much more for the others. All the other kingdoms had to fall to bring freedom with them.

    But then what?

    The sigh on her lips remained icy as she wrapped her arms around her gaunt torso. They would have to build it all over again. She and the demons who lived in Aywotoc. Without the others.

    Her lips pressed tighter together.

    Destroying Couvia in this way, washing it clean and everything else away, had not only silenced the humans. The demons, her people, all those who had suffered as she had, were silent too. Their lungs had filled with water no less than Salias had. Except no one was helping them. They didn¡¯t get a second chance. No one broke through the surface of the water and complained to her because she could have solved all this differently.

    There was no one left to complain.

    That which she had wanted to protect had fallen victim to her hatred. They had drowned in the waves with the people they had feared all their lives.

    In the end, she hadn¡¯t been able to save anyone.

    Her dull fingers dug into the thin flesh of her upper arms. The water made the world silent and, in the same breath, as empty as what was inside. The loneliness seemed to be pierced only by the chirping of isolated birds ¨C small creatures who had heard only the bare minimum of all this. The flood didn¡¯t affect them. What Salia had done was of no importance. Not for all those who had the land at their feet. Nothing changed for them.

    It made her swallow. That one thought was exactly what she had just let go all this time. But it was true. Nothing would change. If she destroyed all the other kingdoms, there would be nothing left. It was the easiest way. But she would have done nothing about the hate. Nothing against the fear. They had all died, humans and demons alike, with the problems of this world in their hearts. Salia had simply poured a bucket over flames, unaware that the wood, the base, could no longer be used.

    Those damned mermaids had been right.

    They had been smarter than that.

    And Vix, too, had grasped the circumstances that only slowly dawned on Salia. The narrative of what had happened and what she had done slowly found a foothold in the understanding she had been pushing away all this time. Vix¡¯s way hadn¡¯t been the right way. She could have done more than hide. And yet she had proved an adult, perfectly correct lesson.

    Hate wasn¡¯t the answer. Neither to violence nor to fear. Not even to another¡¯s mistakes. Hate needed to be stifled, endowed with goodness and confidence, even when the clouds seemed gloomy and hope sluggish. She should have done the work of a saint. Instead, she had thought of herself as a necessary evil. A monster that sometimes forgot that it was also a human being. Just like everyone else who had lived within these walls.

    A fortress that now lay fallow because her stupidity had broken through. A city that had fallen because she had taken what wasn¡¯t hers ¨C solely to get what she wanted. What she deserved.

    Without further ado, Salia pulled back her nose and averted her gaze. Not looking would make it more bearable. But the spot she was standing on, that small area that had taken no damage, served as a reminder. As a laughable performance of her actions when she spotted a summer yellow dress.

    The fabric had caught at one corner and the princess, this unknown girl who had sworn to her they were alike, was floating lifelessly inside. Her face was the only one Salia could see. And though it should have been otherwise, there was a smile on the princess¡¯s lips. Benevolent, as if she had already forgiven all that had happened. The fringe at the end of her dress reached to her knees. It had probably caught more than once, revealing flawless pale skin adorned with scales.

    Salia¡¯s eyes widened. The woman¡¯s words suddenly took on a different light. She had tried to hide just like everyone else, only in a better environment. Maybe one day she could have made a difference ¨C with her smile and the kindness she had already shown in the throne room.

    Only slowly did Salia¡¯s trembling hand rise to her mouth. The change that the country had so desperately needed, that she had believed she had to take care of, had probably never been in her hands. She had simply been given a second chance and instead of taking it, instead of living it, she had listened to revenge.

    But without the hatred, without all that had filled her, all that remained was futility. She had drowned the glow of Couvia¡¯s light, had torn down its walls and enjoyed it for a moment ¨C like a small child who realised too late that not all gifts were precious.

    ¡°It was you, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Salia¡¯s feet kicked the spear slightly to the side as she staggered to the lifeless body of the unknown princess. ¡°You were the light we were looking for, weren¡¯t you?¡± She put a hand to the woman¡¯s pale cheek. ¡°Not me... Never me...¡±

    Carefully, she bent down to slide her hands under the body of the dead woman. Then, with what little strength she could muster, she pulled the princess to her on the marble floor. Salia bedded the fiery red hair in her bony lap long before the first drops beaded on the stranger¡¯s cheeks.

    The sobs in Salia¡¯s lungs rasped as she swallowed. Her fingers clawed at the dress. ¡°I was so upset... It was so unfair. They killed us and suddenly I didn¡¯t have to die. They gave me everything... All of it. And I thought I had to do something.¡± She pulled the stranger¡¯s torso closer. ¡°I was so ... angry. So blind. And so proud because I finally had value in life. Me ... a demon. Me, who thought she would have to spend a life in fear.¡±

    It was probably what Vix had seen and what had stopped Mireille from attacking the country. Vix had realised in her past that change was no longer in her hands. She had brought destruction greater than what Salia had mustered and then had awoken from the absurd dream of a superhero. Mireille, however, had witnessed the devastation and even if her hatred had not faded, the memories had held her back. Deep inside, she had come to understand Vix over the years.

    But Salia hadn¡¯t had years. It had been days. Few days that could be counted on one hand. There had been no time to see behind the fa?ade. Not for her.

    ¡°I was just trying to help...¡± The sob rasped more domineeringly in her throat. ¡°But maybe ... it would be better if I weren¡¯t here any longer.¡±

    She didn¡¯t need to ask. Aywotoc knew what she desired. It knew what she craved in those seconds, and it didn¡¯t hold back as the waves rose again, slowly lapping at the marble. The water reared up, metres high, even out of reach. It fenced Salia in for a moment before the wetness came crashing down on her. The sides slammed together over her. Her grip tightened on the princess¡¯s dress.

    Water filled her lungs. Her breathing stopped. The weight pressed her down and pushed her firmly against the stranger¡¯s torso. It was as if Aywotoc was taking its toll. As if she were being devoured for failing in her task. And maybe that was a good thing. Perhaps only in death did one find the peace one needed to gain a clear picture of things. It was the only gift to which she could smile.

    But it was only a warning. The next breath filled her lungs, just as it had once done when she was executed. Drowning was no longer an enemy of her life. It was only a vague reminder that it was a warning to all those who were above the will of death.

    And yet failed to understand the meaning behind it.