ã€ŠDistortionã€‹


 Prologue

    creation [ kree-ey-shuhn ]

    1. the act of producing or causing to exist; the act of creating; engendering.

    2. the Creation, the original bringing into existence of the universe by God.

    3. the world; universe.

    4. creatures collectively.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.Can one create with bad intentions? Can we truly wish for our creations to be anything less than perfect? Even when we create by accident?

    Accidental creation. The innate manifestation of our divinity. For can we not call ourselves gods as we create? Even if that creation is flawed beyond measure; even as it distorts and evolves into something outside of our understanding.

    We long to create as we long to fix. As we long to destroy. So that we can create again from ashes.

 Chapter 1

    "Hey, I noticed you''re always alone. What''s with that?" Launa asked the eating ghost of Jean Rostand High School.

    The ghost turned around, her shallow brown eyes bearing into the intruder.

    "You''re always alone, too. I don''t see how you can judge."

    Launa smiled. She didn''t know why she was so happy the girl knew who she was.

    "Oh, I''m not judging." She sat down next to her, ignoring her frown. "I thought that, since we''re alone anyway, might as well be alone together."

    The girl shrugged. "As long as you don''t expect us to be friends."

    "Great! What''s your name?"

    The girl looked taken aback by Launa''s enthusiasm, she turned her head back to her food, and Launa thought that would be it, but-

    "Lys."

    CHAPTER 1

    LYS

    Does anything spark regret more than the sight of blood?

    Virgin walls tainted with the sinful fluid. Hate and despair oozing from each drop, the cruel echo resonating inside her bones. The silence, the quietness of being the only one left breathing. Tainted by the scarlet, yet unharmed. Alive, yet with a heart aching of death. The hopeful saviour, yet the executor. There were a lot of things Lys didn''t understand, but in that room full of silence and blood, she felt she understood enough. So she did what she knew best.

    She ran.

    Running seems easy, but is an acquired skill, an expert combination of denial and tunnel vision; one Lys had been honing all her life. If she never questioned anything, never looked back, she could pretend everything was as it should be. A usual day, in a usual life. Even when that life tumbled down a cliff, hitting one too many branches along the way. Running had saved her life many times. When she had lost everything and her night sky now hosted two moons more than she was used to, she continued. Keeping ahead. Never looking back.

    The thing about running however, is that no matter how strong you think you are, and how smooth the road ahead seems to be, life finds a way to place a thorn wall bigger than you could hope to cross unharmed.

    For Lys, that wall came as a single name scribbled on a flower. An unexpected answer to a hopeless wish.

    It was the busiest evening of the year in Henalda''s capital. The rumble of people seemed to shake even the mountain the city was built on. From her humble home hidden in a long-abandoned watchtower, she could see the blazing, crackling shape of the Bog. The wooden effigy was swarmed with spectators eager to see it burn to the ground, letting the people bid farewell to summer with its crumbling smile.

    Fire Dancers were its executors, their smiles bursting with joy, and their limbs bursting with flames. Music was its tormentor, as the Dancers and spectators sang and danced in harmony, Dancers breathing more flames onto the smoking reddening wood with every movement.

    "And may our glorious General protect us once more during the darkness of winter." They sang.

    It smiled its wooden smile through it all, pleasing its crowd, keeping them safe and warm, until even it would fall to the celebrated flames.

    Sometimes, Lys did stop, for a few moments.

    She thought some sights were worth lingering on.

    This night was one of them. The three moons had ran up the sky from beyond the mountains of The Great Divide, joining in Rasphira''s glee, tasting the rising smoke. From below, where the superior mountain soil deigned to meet lower ground, no one could see the sights of the city. Only the moons could see the black sod stone of the streets glimmer as their light hit it. As if this was the only time it could breathe, far from the blinding light of the sun, a sight rivaling the stars forming itself on the mountain balcony.

    Only the moons, and Lys.

    Residents had dressed for the night. Garbs riddled with small mirrors which reflected the streets they walked on, every participant a walking constellation. Lys had never owned such a garb. Those were clothes worn by those who could afford to be seen. And since the day she had appeared in Henalda, being seen was the one thing she couldn''t risk. Her wardrobe was black as a moonless sky. She would wear out cloak after cloak, a blindfold her one companion since the moment she learned to Dance with Air and known how to feel the world. The moment the blindfold left her, she could see her face.

    Staring at her.

    On every wall of the country.

    Next to a choir of warning posters singing in perfect harmony : "They are among us. Do not be fooled. Reporting is Protecting." laid the face of the eighteen-year-old who had been brought here three years ago. Lys hadn''t had access to a mirror in a long time, but she knew how different she had to be now. How survival had traced her skin, running tarnished the light in her eyes, loneliness dug a cozy place into her heart.

    She had lingered too long.

    She wasn''t lonely. She was fine. She was doing what she had to do.

    She had to keep moving.

    Lys allowed herself one last look at the Bog. Thinking of the foolishness she had displayed earlier that day. There was a tradition, you see, she had only learnt of after she had seen her second Bog burning. Starting when the figure was set in place on the morning of the ceremony, citizens were allowed to write wishes on the polished wood. These would then burn and float to be heard by the Spirit of Fire, who, in its eternal whimsy, would either grant or ignore it.

    And what human could resist a wish.

    So Lys had found herself hidden in a crowd, coal pen burning her hand, to write five small words. There''s always a duality to wishes. The will to hope and yet not hope too much. Lys didn''t allow herself to hope, but she did anyway. As she watched the waltzing embers fly into the black sky, it was harder than she thought to turn away.

    Gliding down the narrow tower, she heard a familiar sound. A voice full of the wisdom only age can bring carried out into the street, inciting curious children to drag the hands of their parents. She counted tales of great battles between good and evil, about saviours setting the universe back into its rightful place. Lys listened to her every story religiously, drifting away to playful mystical lands, bringing them home to reside in her dreams, wishing she could live in them.

    Because anything was better than living in Henalda.

    She dropped next to her, silent as a cloud. Most would be startled by the black, hidden form, but Martha had grown as used to it as to the dismissive steps of people before her.

    "You''re not going to go enjoy the festival?" Lys asked as she sat next to the woman, throwing a few copper coins in her red woven cap. She enjoyed sitting next to her. Martha gave off a familiar motherly feel, one that reminded her of a full meal and hot chocolate.

    "Festivals are not for me. Once you see the bigger picture, you learn to sit back and watch it all come together." She sat readjusting her light shawl around her strong shoulders. She did it with a delicacy which always surprised the Air Dancer. "How about you?" She asked, though she already knew the answer.

    Lys let out a small laugh. "If you let me borrow your face, maybe."

    "I''m sure a lot of people''s wish is to be able to see you one day." Martha lowered her voice to barely a whisper. "The legendary wanted woman; hunted by every soldier alive for an unknown crime. I''m hurt you still haven''t shared it with me. After all the talks we''ve had."

    The Air Dancer raised her eyebrows in exasperation. "Our dear Lord General needs to share it with me first. He wasn''t polite enough to knock on my nonexistent door and explain why he decided to make me unable to show my face in public."

    Martha grinned, looking up at the golden statue of General Avriel which looked down on all the festival-goers on Victory Way. It flickered along with the flames of the Bog, making its empty eyes look almost alive. "I wish he had, just so I could witness it with my own eyes. That arrogant tyrant being polite? I would gladly wage all my remaining years to anyone who could make it possible."

    The old woman''s grin spread to Lys. "Careful there, I wouldn''t want you to join me on all those walls. I don''t think there would be enough space for the two of us."

    Martha''s fingers wobbled with greed. "Then maybe I should turn you in, then there would be plenty of space for me."

    "Fair point." Lys said, shrugging. "Wasn''t the reward money increased recently?"

    Martha nodded. "One hundred thousand gold pieces starting from last week."

    Lys let out a low whistle. "Do you think I could buy the city with that much?"

    "Just about three times over." The older woman hummed.

    Lys looked up at the city around them, narrowing her eyes. "I should find a way to turn myself in and keep the money."

    Martha laughed. "Speaking of money, why are you still here? Don''t you have a job to do?"

    Lys glanced towards the eastern mountains. "I do have a meeting, though there''s no exchange of money."

    "It''s an important one then," the old woman said, raising an eyebrow.

    "I keep hoping it''s going to be", the Air Dancer sighed. "Hope keeps us alive, right?"

    Martha''s smile reeked of maternal love, and she gleefully waved as Lys left her next to her red woven cap, new stories forming in her mind.

    Lys rushed east, jumping from roof to roof, grazing the slicked surface of the city. Hidden in the dark of the night. Just a black spot gone from sight faster than you could blink. She jumped over the city walls, towards the imposing summits of the mountains of A''lu. She flew above a narrow peak, and, for a moment, she was truly on top of the world, staring down at The Great Divide between the two halves of the country. She turned her back towards the far away ground, eyes stuck to the moons and the stars.

    And she let herself fall.

    She lived for the rush of adrenaline from the fall. Her stomach would rise up to the heavens, her nerves thrive from the pressure and the slap of the wind, and for a few seconds, she felt something.

    She fell between huddled tree life, like children hiding a secret, and stopped herself just above a body of water. It was shy. If you called it a lake, it would blush, and think of the compliment during the darkest nights. It was a pond with dreams.

    Thin trees drew delicate shadows on its surface. A little crook where the forest allowed itself to breathe. Lys floated above it for a moment, her air blurring the trees'' drawing. Her eyes took breath as she took away her blindfold. She could barely see her reflection. With her deeply tanned skin and ink stained hair, she was but a dark shape of a woman blocking out the stars.

    She did see something else, however.

    If anyone asked, the blindfold was to hide herself. If anyone looked, they would see the blindfold was to hide the world. One thing in particular.

    The White Shape.

    The sight made her stomach twist. The snow ethereal firmly stuck to the foreground of her life. Whether it be night, day, rain, sun, storm, sea, it was always there. Not shining, but existing above anything else around it. It laughed at light, making its own, and even in the dark nights when Lys wore her blindfold to bed, a sliver of snow light reached her eyes.

    The same snow which coloured her irises.

    How she hated them.

    "Well, I think they''re beautiful."

    Lys clung to the words like a lifeline, a nostalgic voice fueling her hope. Maybe if I repeat them enough, she thought, I''ll start to believe them.

    "And I thought I was going to be early for once." A deep honeyed voice came from her right. It tried to hide it, but Lys didn''t miss the gentle affection which had weaved itself into it as their meetings grew more numerous.

    B¨¦ryl strolled towards her, all dark of skin and fire red colouring his uniform. Lys had heard his features had made him quite the popular man in these parts, but she wasn''t one to understand such matters. She watched his face rock from ease to anxiety. A smile and an eye kept behind his back. A soldier meeting with her was risking more than he could imagine, but they were both past the point of truly caring.

    "Maybe next time." She teased, floating to meet solid ground.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

    "Do you have anything for me?"

    "I do, in fact." She said, handing him the documents inside her bag. "All the accounts you asked me for. The director was trading with the black market. I''ll let you do your thing."

    He took the documents with practiced ease, grinning as he imagined his upcoming promotion. "As effective as always," he said.

    "I have a reputation to uphold." She said with a half-grin. "Now, your turn." She couldn''t care less about the shady activities happening in the city. All she wanted was information.

    "I went back to New-Sher, where they were last seen, in case something new had popped up. I walked into the ruins of their house, but didn''t find much. Just..." He rummaged in his pocket to find a single flower, "this, in a corner. It couldn''t have been there more than a few days, so it must be from someone they know."

    Lys took the small white and gold flower in her hand. A narcissus. She turned it around to observe every angle. She knew what it represented, but not what it was doing there.

    "There was a sentence written next to it," B¨¦ryl continued. "I don''t know if it''ll ring any bells to you. It said ''I still think they''re beautiful''."

    Lys frowned until she saw a cursive trace hidden in the crook of the bloom. The delicate lines struggled to come together, but still formed a clear name.

    Launa

    I still think they''re beautiful.

    The Air Dancer''s heart dropped. She could feel the earth shattering beneath her feet, and her legs had a right mind to tease her falling at any second. Her heart beat like an angry army, taking her stomach as a war hostage.

    No. Stop. Stop hoping. We''ve been over this. She told herself. She kept reading the name. Maybe if she read it enough times it would shift into something else, and then she could laugh about it with friends saying: Have you ever wanted something so much you started to hallucinate? Happened to me once.

    The soldier didn''t miss the falter in her expression. In the two years they had known each other, he had never known her to show any sign of vulnerability. "So, are you going to tell me why you look like you''ve been slammed in the face with a hammer?" He asked, trying to keep the conversation playful but it was hard to hide the anticipation in his voice.

    "I-uhm" Lys remained speechless. B¨¦ryl''s anticipation turned to concern as he frowned, studying his informant''s face.

    "Lys. We have a deal. If you know anything you have to tell me."

    She looked back up to him, her eyes wide like a cornered mouse, but quickly turned her gaze back to the flower.

    "No, this has nothing to do with it, this is... personal." Her quiet voice was in a rush, processing the information. "It might even be nothing-" She started pacing. "I mean- No. But maybe? It can''t be. Right?"

    B¨¦ryl frowned. "If this is an act just so you won''t give me the information I swear I-"

    "No!" She cut him off. "Please don''t, I''m already confused as it is I- I need time to process this."

    "No," he argued, grabbing her arm. "If you know anything, you have to tell me. Remember our deal."

    He looked at her with the determined eyes of a soldier. Of one who was prepared to betray the way he was brought up and common sense itself to team up with Lys and get what he wanted.

    She looked back at him, a fake calm reigning over her face. She just wanted to go and think alone. "If I find anything, I''ll bring it tomorrow, like always."

    B¨¦ryl squeezed her arm tighter. "Promise me," he said, staring straight into her snow-white eyes.

    Lys smiled. "Looks like you got used to my eyes now."

    "Don''t try to change the subject." He growled.

    "Not too long ago, you would turn away when I looked at you."

    "Lys!"

    Startled birds flew away from the screaming, and something akin to true silence fell over the pair of them. The Air Dancer smiled again, repeating with a soft voice, almost motherly.

    "If I find anything, I''ll bring it tomorrow, like always."

    B¨¦ryl almost looked like he believed her.

    "Tomorrow, without fail. You know what will happen if you break our contract," he said.

    Lys put her right hand on the soldier''s shoulder.

    "I''ll see you tomorrow," she lied.

    * * *

    Lys didn''t know why she was running, nor her destination. Realisation came when she ran past the golden statue of the man who ruined her life. His eyes had lost the flicker of flames and looked gleefully empty. Her eyes found the wreckage of the Bog, a few scoops of ashes with some wood scraps sprinkled on top. She tore off her blindfold, pushing away the White to gaze into the scraps.

    And then she saw it.

    There, on a piece of charred wood not much bigger than her own hands, were the five words she had shamelessly written.

    They read:

    "I want to see Launa."

    "What the hell." She muttered, bringing the wood up to her closed eyes. "It didn''t even burn." She almost laughed at the irony.

    She looked up at the three moons, one of them dangerously close to the edge of the world, the symbol of the impossibility of ever seeing Launa again.

    Launa was in another plane, where Lys had once lived. There, Elemental Dancing was a pipe dream, cities suffocated under concrete, and a solitary moon monopolised the night sky.

    She knew she was far from being an anomaly. Others had come to Henalda from their own worlds before her, and many would come after. But Lys had never allowed herself to dream that maybe, maybe the one person she missed the most would do the same.

    "Hey!" A strong voice came from behind her. She turned by instinct. "What are you-" The guard stopped when he saw a glimpse of her face.

    Shit. She thought. She quickly put her blindfold back on and rushed back to the heights of the Capital, leaving the confused man behind. He was soon joined by another.

    "I thought I saw Lys." He muttered, in shock.

    His other soldier scoffed. "Stop drinking during your shift Grug."

    Martha tried not to be startled by the black shape which landed beside her as she was walking home, but her tired mind wasn''t expecting the sudden visit. The figure stood before her, holding a small piece of charred wood. She waited for her to talk, but after a few moments of silent let out a fond sigh.

    "Would you like some tea?" She asked, voice soft and inviting.

    Lys nodded, following the old woman home without saying a word. They walked through the shimmering streets until they reached the lower quarters, the core and scum of the city. Houses not raised to the sky, but carved into the ground by hands who only knew how to do just that. The original settlement of miners who came looking for the rare black stone, and left their dark holes to shimmering houses.

    This was where the Capital was born, and where you could now only look down at its new residents.

    The interior of Martha''s house was as warm and calming as her voice. The main room which acted as a kitchen and living room invited her in with its fireside heart full of cushions on a fuzzy carpet. It smelled of Martha, of warmth, and of safety. It felt nostalgic, like the home of a loving couple which was only rivaled by the Bog in its fiery exit. But B¨¦ryl''s discovery there seemed to open a door she had never allowed herself to open.

    "It feels weird to see you inside." Lys sank into the heart, a cushion for every worry. She let herself see the steam escaping her tea, pointedly ignoring the White inspecting the room like a kid with their new toy.

    The old woman grinned. "Do I lose my beauty when I''m not under the moonlight?"

    The Air Dancer couldn''t resist a smile. "You could never."

    "So, did you come here just to point out how strange I look in the candlelight or are we going to get to the reason why you look like a kicked puppy?"

    Lys winced. "When you didn''t say anything on the way here I was kinda hoping you would go the ''you don''t have to talk if you don''t have to'' route."

    Martha stirred her tea with a grace that felt out of place in this corner of the city. "Dear, if you''re going to take up my sleeping hours to talk about nothing then I demand at least half of your reward money."

    "What, so you can buy a city and a half?"

    Martha shrugged. "You know we get greedy when we get old."

    The Air Dancer stared at her tea, the charred wood on fire again in her peripheral vision. "So," she started, not really knowing how, "hypothetical situation."

    The older woman rolled her eyes. "Of course."

    "Hypothetical situation," she insisted, "imagine, you were just living your life, and then someone came along and took you to a very, very far place. And it''s hell for a bit. Well, more than a bit. But... you get used to it. You live on. You do things you''re not...proud...of, just to keep going, and even though you''re used to the new environment, there''s just people you can''t forget. You try not to think about them because you know it''s useless, but then..." Lys swallowed. The words danced on her tongue, begging to be brought to the real world. "What if there was a possibility that you might see them again?"

    Martha hummed. "Drop everything and rush to see them?"

    The Air Dancer placed her cup on the ground, turning to face the other woman, hands drawing masterpieces along with her words. "What if it''s not them though? What if it''s just you creating impossible scenarios in your head? What if you go and involve yourself in something big just because you naively believed in a fantasy?"

    Martha frowned. "You''re making an awful lot of excuses just for confirming someone''s identity. Do you not want it to be them?"

    Lys averted her gaze to the floor, but the charred wood still burned. "I don''t know."

    "What are you afraid of, dear?"

    There were flashes of red. Flashes of two rooms melding together in her mind. All walls turned scarlet. One filled with screams, the other with silence. Bodies laid across the both floors.

    In too many of her nightmares, one of them was Launa''s.

    She looked up to meet Martha''s eyes, a glint of concern lacing them. "Too many things."

    * * *

    The moons were long gone, but the sun still enjoyed every slow second of darkness''s company. Lys sat on the eastern city walls, staring at A''lu. Beyond the mountains stood the place B¨¦ryl had found the flower, stood Launa.

    Possibly.

    Possibly.

    Launa was an old family picture. Something to look at, to remember, never to relive. And yet...

    Possibly.

    She raised her hand in front of her, fully aware of the squeezing in her chest when she thought: I''m an arm''s length closer to her now. She only had to jump.

    But terror made her retract her hand.

    She could just turn back. Erase the lie she had told B¨¦ryl. He would ask "What did you find?" and she would say "Nothing."

    Nothing at all.

    She would go back to her life in the dark, in the night, beneath her blindfold. Stealing to survive, living as the breeze that flew in the unspeakable parts of the city. She was used to it. It was easy.

    Anything was easier than getting herself to move from the wall.

    "You''re finally thinking of leaving?"

    She turned her head, and saw a man flashing red.

    She could still hear it clear as day, his gasp. The subtle sound which filled the space behind her, chasing the silence she had created in the underground room. She still had nightmares of the expression on his face once he had realised what she had done.

    It was the last thing she had seen of him before she ran.

    This time, she studied him. She caught demanding brown eyes and well-fed flesh. He still walked as if every stone his feet touched became his by right, and his voice lost none of the affection it had in her memories.

    Lys nodded, stuck in another dilemma. To stay or to leave? Both seemed as impossible as the other.

    "They miss you, you know? Jina keeps asking if we''ve seen you around."

    "Hyx..." She started.

    Hyx raised his hand in capitulation. "I know I''m probably the last person you want to see today, but if whatever you''re about to do doesn''t work out for you, know that there are people who will gladly welcome you back." He smiled. "And of course, I''ll be around too."

    Lys squeezed her hands in fists, feeling the crescents burn. "You know it''s not that simple."

    Hyx''s smile dropped along with his gaze. "I''ve changed. The whole group has changed. We won''t get into a mess like that again, I promise."

    "I haven''t changed," she said.

    "So you''re running away?"

    Lys stayed silent. Explanations came and went on her lips, but none had enough belief to make it out.

    "I don''t know what I''m doing," she whispered. But in the stillness of the night, her leader was able to hear her loud and clear.

    Hyx sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand. "Fine, run away all you want." He said with a hint of bitterness.

    She looked at him, wide-eyed. He continued.

    "When you''re done running, knock on our door. Well, we don''t have a door, but you know what I mean. You better bring sweets." He said, turning away towards the stairs leading into the city streets.

    "Make sure you don''t die before then," she said, finding the strength to muster a small smile.

    "Ha!" He exclaimed as he kept walking. "If they haven''t killed me by now, they''ll never kill me!" Waving his left hand in an elegant twist, he headed down the steps, leaving a smiling Lys in his trail.

    She looked back at the city.

    She looked back at the mountains.

    And she flew.

    She flew over the shivering peaks, playing with tree tops as she glided down the right arm of the cerulean mountains. She could feel the sun attacking her eyes as it finally took its job seriously, felt its heat seep through her dark clothes. She couldn''t tell if she was overheating due to the sun or from the rush of what she was about to do. New-Sher met her eagerly, its fields of flowers shining and opening as it welcomed the morning. It would never shimmer in the moons'' light as the capital did, but the sun favoured it regardless. Houses stood short but proud, never sticking to each other, letting the village''s breath pass between them. They dialogued with eager flowers and bright smells.

    Her eyes lingered.

    She remembered the summer she once had, littered with eager flowers. When their relationship was seen as a ''bother'' and Launa''s phone was forced to spend its days sleeping in a kitchen drawer.

    "This will be our signal." Launa had said, flower in her hand and mischief in her eyes. "Leave it on the edge of my kitchen window, and I''ll sneak out and find you."

    Lys smiled at the distant memory, pressing the replay button over and over again. She could almost feel Launa''s hand on hers as she handed her the small flower.

    Feet firmly on a rooftop as was their rightful place, Lys spotted the sunken square. The walls hid behinds green vines growing to the sound of water splashing in the fountain filling the space. With its sign only made visible by a rough hacking of the green wall, stood John''s Potion shop. The only stop Lys had made all those years ago before her temporary home had burst into flames. She couldn''t imagine anybody else who knew of her connection to it.

    Lys flinched as the shop door opened and a mop of red hair rushed out into the square, a basket of potions in hand. She felt as if she was looking at the burning charred wood again, but it was moving, swaying with each step her dream took. She couldn''t look away, terrified the woman might disappear if she even blinked.

    "Launa wait! You forgot a basket!" John, straight out of her memory, came out of the shop, handing another straw basket to the young woman. She smiled, throwing Lys''s world in disarray, her voice as she thanked the elder man dealing the finishing blow.

    The gentle voice shifted in Lys''s ears, forming nostalgic words. "Well, I think they''re beautiful."

 Chapter 2

    "Hey. Do you think I''m weird?"

    Lys turned away from her book at Launa''s words. It was rare that she paid attention to her questions. It made Launa happy.

    "Unless the definition of weird has changed to ''incredibly annoying'' then no."

    Launa faked a gasp, falling head first into Lys''s lap, covering her book. "You really think I''m annoying?"

    "If there was an award for being the most annoying, you would be honored with a lifetime achievement trophy."

    "If you were the one to hand me the trophy, then it would be an honor."

    Lys smiled, the ''blink and you''ll miss it'' kind of a smile. But it was so soft and loving that Launa''s brain had burned it into memory.

    "I''ll think about it."

    CHAPTER 2

    LAUNA

    Launa was no stranger to the local police''s interrogation rooms, but this was the first time in while her wrists weren''t heavy with handcuffs.

    The air was stale, the weak artificial light straining to touch the dark walls, and Officer Deschamps was actually trying to be polite, for once. His contorted face showed how hard it was for him. He had come to her after the rush. After the school''s parking lot became a nest for screaming and crying students. It was barely controlled chaos. One class in particular, Lys''s class, kept looking at the school as if it itself was a monster. Some had splatters of blood on them.

    The rest had a lot more than a splatter.

    Launa had searched for Lys, looking at every face, every mop of hair she could see, going up and down, terrified of missing her. She kept trying her phone, and every time it went to voice mail, her heart sank a little more.

    This is Lys, leave a message.

    Maybe it''s just on silent.

    This is Lys, leave a message.

    Maybe she forgot it inside.

    This is Lys, leave a message.

    Maybe she''s still inside-

    "Where''s Lys!?" She all but screamed at one of the classmates with less blood on him. Pierre, maybe. The name caused him to shiver, and he curled into himself, shaking his head.

    "I don''t know. I don''t know. I don''t know. I don''t know. I don''t know. I don''t know. I don''t know. I don''t know," he kept muttering.

    Launa had no time for this.

    "Does anyone know where Lys is!?"

    "She''s gone," Hermine said, crouched in the corner of the crowd. She had drawn her long dark hair around herself, trying to block out the world.

    "What do you mean she''s gone?!"

    "Some man came in...he took her...and then she- she-" Hermine started to tremble, and Launa knew she wouldn''t get any more information from her. She clicked her tongue, looking around for anyone to help her when-

    "Mademoiselle Dubois." The familiar tone turned her around to find the Officer in his usual pretentious blues. "We''re going to have a nice, long talk."

    Launa wasn''t a stranger to the local police''s interrogation room, but this was the first time she was there because of Lys.

    "Does Lys share any of your...tendencies?" He asked, eyes on his paperwork, as if she was a nuisance. He always spoke to her using polite grammar. Not to show respect, but to put distance between them. He put himself on a pedestal, and Launa was the trashy commoner needing a lesson in manners.

    "If by tendencies you mean punching people who deserve to be punched then no. Lys would never hurt a fly."

    Officer Deschamps didn''t even look at her as he wrote her words down. "See, that''s where we have a problem," he said, finally looking up, every motion oozing contempt. "Because I have a dead teacher, and a student who''s gone missing right after the murder with a partner we''re sick of seeing in our precinct. You can see how bad it looks."

    Launa''s brain came to a stop.

    "What-"

    A file slid towards her, promising unwanted answers. The front was riddled with sorting numbers but what stood out to Launa was the name.

    Monsieur Eric Blanchard.

    The Physics and Chemistry teacher. The one whose class Lys was in just before the incident.

    "Open it."

    His voice echoed, looking over each of her shoulders, gliding around her arms, encouraging her. Her own morbid curiousity led her fingers down to the folder, and to the photos lying inside.

    The pictures showed a wall. A wall with a story. The dark red splatter formed an almost person, limbs distorted, shaky, too long to be human. Skin had crawled in the joints between the white tiles, nesting at the point of impact. Blood spread like confetti around the room, organs eager to join in the celebration and exploring every nook and cranny. Launa thought she saw a bit of intestine half inside a pencil case.

    "No one has ever seen anything like this before." The deep voice brought her out of staring at bits of brain resting over some beakers. "It''s going to take us days just to pick up all the pieces."

    Launa gulped. "And you think- You think she did this? How?"

    "That''s what you''re here for." His eyes bore into her, he had dropped the polite act. "She wasn''t alone. A man entered the room and fled with her. Walked right in and out through the front door. Maybe they had some kind of machine. The only natural way he could have ended up this way is if a tornado entered the classroom. This isn''t your petty street fight here. This is murder. If you know what''s good for you and for her, you''ll help us catch her and her accomplice before someone else ends up like this."

    Launa''s only instinct was to recoil against his words. "How- why would you think it was Lys then? Why not the other guy!?"

    "All testimonies coincide that they saw Lys push her teacher before he splattered against the wall. However she did it, there''s no question it was her."

    Launa felt the room closing in around her. It crushed her shoulders, her feet, her chest, her brain. Despair and loneliness tried to weasel in her beating heart, but she didn''t let them.

    Something wasn''t right.

    Lys would never leave her without a word.

    She would never.

    "No one has seen them leave the school, right?" She asked.

    "That''s right. Why? Do you know how they would have escaped?"

    Launa straightened herself up, chest up and proud, filled with purpose. She could feel a spark in her eyes. "No. I was just curious. Can I leave now?"

    The officer frowned. "You do understand how it looks if you leave without giving us everything you know."

    "I know nothing," she said. "Can I go now? I know you can''t keep me."

    "Your family''s money won''t help you this time if we find you''re involved in this," he said as she stood to leave.

    "Sure," she answered, not needing help to find her way out.

    She took a deep breath as the sunlight hit her, and turned left, towards her goal. The school. There had to be a hint there. Something. Anything. She would go through every bit of skin and organ lining if she had to, but she would find where Lys had gone.

    She could have taken the bus, but it didn''t feel right. There were too many feelings battling inside of her. She started to walk but quickly burst into a run. She ran through the forest cradling the back of the building finding the small crack in the fence -the students'' most well guarded secret- and finally stopped running. She couldn''t tell if she was dizzy from exhaustion or from emotions, so she decided to ignore it, and headed straight for the science building.

    There were police officers at every door, but she knew Mme Texier always kept her windows open on the ground floor, and she snuck through there. The air was heavy, and only got heavier as she walked up the stairs to M. Blanchard''s classroom and the smell hit her. It wasn''t a scent she could describe clearly, the nuances of iron and bile attacked her nostrils and stomach all at once.

    She blocked her nose and carried on.

    "HEY! What are you doing here!?" A female voice echoed from the end of the corridor.

    Launa cursed and ran back towards the stairs.

    "Come back here!"

    It only made Launa run faster. So fast that when she barrelled down the steps, she didn''t have time to see the black cloud floating around the corner. She ran through it, and the railing faded into nothing. She heard the crunch of leaves under her feet, and the putrid stench of death was replaced by clean air and the sound of trees rustling in the wind.

    Launa froze, looking behind her only to find more green trees. There were no stairs, no school, no police.

    Just her in a forest.

    What the actual-

    She turned around in all directions, thinking maybe if she was at the right angle the school would just pop back up. But it didn''t, all it did was scare off a squirrel back up into its tree.

    Let''s think about this clearly, she thought. You were at school, and now you''re in a forest.

    Ah yes, that made perfect sense.

    She looked up. The leaves were the colour of late summer, and the setting sun started to draw colours on the clouds. That''s when she saw it. When a cumulus floated by, mocking her by its calmness.

    Three moons.

    Launa counted over and over again just to be sure, rubbed her eyes and blinked so hard it made her eyes water.

    Three moons.

    She checked her head for any injuries. Maybe she had fallen down the stairs. Maybe she was in a coma. Was this what people experienced during a coma?

    She found her feet moving forwards. Launa had always processed thought using her body. Running or hitting usually did the trick. She walked on until the forest started to fade, and she was able to look down at a picturesque scenery she had only seen on postcards. There were no clusters of concrete, no swirling black roads. A moving vehicle drove past beneath her, it was so slow Launa could hear the curses the drivers behind it would scream if it drove in her city. It sounded like a washing machine, and Launa crouched to see water moving in a tank and turning the wheels.

    To her right a lake glistened and laughed, an angry red building claiming ownership over it as it stood at its center.

    To her left, just down the hill, was a small village almost swallowed by flower fields. She headed towards it, thinking of ways to engage conversation with the locals that wouldn''t make her sound crazy.

    When civilisation came close, Launa found it harder to believe she was still in France. The signs indicating the village sprung right out of the ground, like malformed stone mushrooms. The road stayed bare even as houses huddled around her, gravel crinkling in pain beneath her sneakers. Men and women alike wore long dresses and tunics of linen which flowed in the flowery wind. The embroidery in each garment was unique, some obviously handmade, and their wearers were all staring at her. Had she somehow found a secluded community?

    A boy was staring at her harder than others. He couldn''t have been more than fourteen years old. He narrowed his eyes, enhancing the three beauty spots arranged in a triangle on his left cheek. He didn''t look aggressive, simply inquisitive. She chose to ignore him, turning her gaze to the walls, and the face staring back at her made her stomach sink. There, drawn in coal on an old and ripped wanted poster, was Lys. She felt her knees almost buckle with the realisation.

    She had found Lys.

    Wherever she was, Lys was there too. She raised her hand to touch the drawing, but it was quickly stopped by a rough hand. Launa''s instinct kicked in and she grabbed the offending arm to throw whoever had touched her over her shoulder. A young voice let out a yelp of pain, and she ended up face to face with the boy. Passerbys inched closer to them.

    "It''s okay! She''s my sister!" The boy said to those who wanted to listen. "She''s a bit-" he made a circular gesture near his head with his index. "I just have to bring her home."

    Launa let go of him to stand straight. "Excuse me?"

    The boy stood up in a flash and grabbed her hand once more, leading her down narrow streets. "Just follow my lead," he whispered.

    And what other choice did she have?

    They walked the streets, the boy letting out a chorus of "Nothing to see here." "Just going back home after a show." "Funny costume she''s wearing right?" And quieter instructions, just for her ears. "Don''t look at the posters. Don''t look at any one. Act as if you''ve lived here all your life."

    "Do you know where Lys is?" She asked.

    "And don''t say that name out loud," he added to the instructions.

    They walked quickly, Launa first tried to count the posters of Lys she saw, but gave up quick, worry troubling her brain. The boy dragged her to tight dark stairs, down to the green vined walls of the sunken square. The sound of the village faded into the distance, and Launa looked up to read:

    "John''s gallery of potions and cures."

    The boy barreled in, almost knocking the "Open" sign off the door, and carefully closed the door fully before shouting. "John! We''ve got a new one!"

    Launa was immediately hit with the smell of herbs and medicine. Flasks of every size and colour looked down and up towards her, enticing her, asking to be drunk.

    The man at the counter -John-, lifted his head, pushing his long grey hair out of his face. He looked at her like one would a puzzle, his blue eyes scanning every inch. They were calculating, yet warm, and Launa found herself breathing easily once more.

    "That we do," he said, his voice far from betraying his age. "Where are you from, child?"

    Launa felt strange to be called ''child'' when her nineteenth birthday had recently passed, but she couldn''t seem to want to argue with him.

    "France," she said, knowing wherever she was wasn''t the country she had woken up in that morning.

    The boy''s eyes widened as he turned towards John. "Didn''t Lys also come from-"

    Launa perked up. "Yes! Lys! I need to find her! Where is she?"

    John''s eyes narrowed. "What is your relationship with her?"

    "I''m her partner. Is she safe? What''s with all the posters?" Her words sped up with every question. Her brain was using her skull as a practice drum and her heart seemed to have forgotten its normal pace. She couldn''t care less about where she was or how she got here. All she needed was to have Lys safe and sound.

    "You don''t know what she did?" The boy asked.

    "Why would I- Is this about what happened earlier?"

    "Earlier?" John asked.

    "At school. Before she disappeared. Does it have to do with why she came here?"

    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    "Wait," the man said, waving his hands. "When was the last time you spoke to Lys?"

    Launa didn''t have the luxury to think, blurting out whatever seemed reasonable "Six hours ago, maybe?"

    "In France?" The shop keeper clarified.

    Launa frowned. "Yes. Why?"

    John and the boy looked at each other. "Lys has been here for three years though," Nart said, his voice quiet and questioning.

    What?

    Launa started to feel light headed. "What? No. She''s been with me for the past few years. There wasn''t a single day where we didn''t talk. It can''t-"

    "Calm down," John said, his voice deep and warm, as if he was talking to a scared animal. "I know why. Nart, close the shop. We''ll need to talk before I send her to the Order."

    The boy hopped gleefully, his hand finding his forehead. "Aye aye."

    Launa followed tentatively as John opened the door behind his counter. The smell of herbs faded behind the wooden door and she was met with a humble yet welcoming room. A circle of carpet and cushions of various sizes was facing a chimney to her right. To her left, a table breathed the air of an open window, a kitchen area with a sink and cupboards not far away. Everything was just right, carefully chosen to optimise the small space, filled with history of late nights around the fire.

    Launa couldn''t help but imagine living in a home like this with Lys. Waking up to the gentle aroma of tea. Sitting on the cushions, legs intertwined as they recounted their respective dreams, welcoming the morning at their own pace.

    John motioned for her to sit, and asked Nart to light the fire. Launa observed him as he did, expecting him to find some fire starters and matches, but instead, the boy bent down, and fire flew out of his mouth like breath, coating the logs and filling the room with the soft crackle of burning wood.

    "Please don''t light my fireplace with your mouth," John sighed as he took out some tea cups from his cupboards. Launa couldn''t stop staring at Nart, wondering if this was all an elaborate prank after all.

    "I like it though! I feel like a Dragon." The boy said, making claws with his hands.

    "What''s a Dragon?" The man asked.

    "A fire breathing creature," Launa answered, almost a whisper. Her eyes still stuck on the gentle fire.

    Nart turned to her, noticing her fixation on the fire. "Ah. Right," he said. "So, this is a thing here," he pointed to his mouth and the fire, then made three small orbs of fire appear in his right palm. They twisted and turned around each other, following his fingers, like children playing. "I couldn''t do this in my old world. Then after a few days here it came, and now I have shifts of hot water duty."

    Launa took a deep breath, closing her eyes. There was too much happening at once. She turned her gaze to John, looking for a more concise explanation. He smiled as he handed her a cup of yellow tea which had no right to smell as good as it did, then he sat down to her left.

    "We call it Dancing," he started. "we commune with one of the four Spirits and they allow us to use some of their power, this cannot happen everywhere however." He lifted his hands and some of the cushions in front of them rose up and ran around each other. One stayed unmoving in the center, the others never getting close, circling it like predators. It made Launa think of a solar system. "This," he pointed to the static pillow. "Is where we are.

    "It''s like a core, a blueprint for your old world, but far from the same. There used to be four of these Realms, these collections of worlds. Now there are only two. From what I remember when Lys arrived, your world used mostly fossil fuels and resources from the Earth, right?"

    Launa nodded.

    "Then you''re a Child of Earth, like most people here."

    "What happened to the other Realms?" She asked.

    John''s face grew somber and he averted his gaze.

    "He never wants to say," Nart interjected.

    "Looks like I''m out of tea," John said, looking down at his full cup. "Nart, heat me up some water, will you?"

    The boy groaned. "I swear all of you think Fire Dancers are your personal heating tools," he said, nevertheless standing up and pouring some water in a pot he then held with fiery hands.

    "What were we talking about before?" John asked.

    "Lys," Launa answered, clinging to the one anchor she had.

    "Ah, yes. You also probably want to know how you got here."

    "That would be a nice start."

    John stood up and headed to the door to his shop. His hand lingered on the handle until Launa could see hints of a purple mist escaping through the cracks. He motioned for her to come close, and as he opened the door, she caught the sight of a corridor. She followed John in, hesitating to put her feet on the misty floor. It looked as if she would just fall through, but her feet did find solid ground.

    It wasn''t the kind of solid she was used to, though it wasn''t soft either. It felt alive beneath her, but cold. She looked forwards to see a row of doors on either side of her, going on and on until she could only see darkness.

    "This, is the passage between worlds." John said, sounding like a tour guide showing a famous painting, and not a phenomenon which was shattering Launa''s concept of reality. "Every door is connected to a world, a time, a Realm. Anywhere you could possibly imagine."

    "And you can use it?"

    He shook his head. "No human can open those doors. Only Spirits. The most I can do is connect doors to it and to other parts of this world, but I can never leave it."

    Launa breathed in the mystical space, feeling the soft power in the door John was holding open. "How are you able to do that?"

    He showed a small smile.

    "Is this something else you can''t say?"

    He shrugged. "Sometimes, ignorance is a gift."

    She frowned. "That still doesn''t explain how I got here."

    "You fell through a Distortion; crossings created when the passage malfunctions. You probably fell in the same one Lys did, hence why you came to the same place. Time though, is pretty tricky. The passage doesn''t care about time. You could have landed on the same day as you could have landed in a hundred years."

    Launa''s stomach dropped at the thought. "So I got here close to her. That''s good. Can I see her now?"

    "No one knows where Lys is," Nart said from his end of the room, the water boiling in his pot accompanying his voice with a low hum. "She could be dead for all we know."

    Launa''s blood ran cold. Her hands held the cup so hard, the handle broke off. Her tea poured and slithered onto her hands before joining the rest of the cup on the ground. The burn was welcome. The pain helped her distract her brain from the thought of Lys''s death. She turned towards the boy, and the terror on his features told her all she needed to know about how her own face looked. "Say that one more time and I will break your neck."

    Nart gulped, and John came to block her vision of him. "Now now. Let''s all calm down. I''m sure she''s fine."

    "Are you?" She asked, her voice none the warmer.

    He averted his gaze, and Launa wanted to throw him at the wall. She grabbed her T-shirt with her empty hand, nails still somehow digging into her palm. She tried to breathe.

    Breathe.

    Breathe.

    She''s alive.

    She has to be.

    Her entire body was shaking, her burnt skin hurting more every second.

    "You said you met her." She managed to breathe out.

    "I did," John answered.

    "What happened next?"

    The man averted his gaze, biting his lip. "Soldiers burnt down the house of the couple taking care of her. The husband, Mordo, was captured. The wife, Leesha, wanders around and only sends us letters. We... haven''t heard from Lys since."

    Launa closed her eyes, frustrated tears threatening to spill out. "How long ago was that?"

    "Three years. The house was burnt down days after she arrived here. Those wanted posters were very effective in the beginning."

    Everything started to spin. This was too much in one go. She needed- she needed-

    "I need some air."

    John turned to Nart. "Why don''t you take her to Headquarters? Let her breathe. I''ll speak to Philip about her, we''ll do the full introductions later on."

    "Headquarters?" She asked.

    "Of the Order of Narcissus," the man answered. "We help people like you who have come from other worlds."

    Launa blinked. "Is it that common?"

    Something in John''s eyes wavered. His whole demeanor changed, and the smile he wore was plastic. "Unfortunately."

    Launa was in a half dazed state as they brought her back into the shop, towards a door on the wall. She didn''t flinch when the click of a switch echoed in the space and grains of white sand started to fly through the door cracks, carried by a warm wind tickling her ankles. When the door opened to a dark forest of tall trees and the smell of the ocean, she couldn''t bring herself to be amazed.

    She kept thinking of Lys. Did she even get to set foot here? How did she feel when she arrived here? Alone.

    Oh, fuck.

    Lys had arrived here alone.

    While Launa had Lys''s presence as a crutch to keep her sane, her partner had had none of that. All because Launa took her sweet time coming.

    I''m sorry.

    I''m so sorry.

    Concentrating on her feet and not on Lys felt like betrayal. She blindly followed Nart, hints of tales of his various heroics running up to her ears but never sticking.

    "What''s it like for people like us out there?" Her voice was hoarse as she spoke.

    Nart stopped his rant on the strict hours of the food hall. His smile crashed to the ground. "For Drifters?" He asked. "Not good. This General dude doesn''t like us for some reason, and he made sure everyone joined his side."

    He inhaled a heavy breath. "I was adopted by a native family when I came here, you know? I was like eight? Maybe? Mum- well, the woman who adopted me, was so kind. I feigned amnesia and she was the best teacher I could ask for. Two years ago I decided to come clean. I thought ''She''s my mum, she''ll always be there for me.''"

    He scoffed. "You should have seen her face when I told her. I-" He bit his lip, his eyes straining. "I could pinpoint the exact moment she stopped loving me. She looked at me like- like some pest in her perfect garden." His arms closed around him, recreating the embrace he had lost. "The next day, two soldiers tried to take me in my sleep for the afternoon execution in Rasphira. I freaked out and burned the house down to escape, so I probably didn''t help with our reputation." He half laughed.

    "There are tons of them," he sighed. "Drifter executions. Some public, some not. People are so paranoid I''m sure some of the victims are natives." He looked out towards the ocean, towards something. "Someone told me it makes them feel safer, the regular executions. It makes them believe the army is doing its work and protecting them. Because if not, then they would have to start looking for Drifters around them, and realise that we''re no different. They don''t want to see that, Kirst said, although I don''t get why. See that tower?"

    He pointed to the one thing you could see from all points of the island except the forest cradle in which the portal door resided. It stood proud, black stone against white sand, aiming for the clouds.

    "We call it the Tower of Names. Every time a Drifter dies, we carve their name on a stone and we add it to the tower. With the stones accumulating in the lobby, it''s due for an upgrade. Some of the names on there were here for less time than I was. Maybe I''ll be joining them soon," he tried and failed to fake a laugh, his triangular birthmark shifting along with his cheek.

    Launa kept her gaze to the black. It stuck out of the perfect scenery like a wart, one that keeps hurting when you walk. A constant reminder of her and Lys''s future. "If Lys was executed, you would have known, right?"

    "Oh yeah, Lys''s execution would have been the event of the century-" he stopped and waved to his left. Launa followed his gaze to multiple people waving from under a canopy, sparring hidden from the intense tropical sun. Flames were waltzing in the air along with flowing water and the ground was cracked and riddled with huge holes. There was a chorus of grunts and shouts and the smell of sweat reached Launa even from a distance.

    She found herself drawn to it.

    Some of the fighters turned to her, noticing her clothes and unfamiliar face and throwing friendly welcoming smiles.

    "I need to vent," she said.

    One of them came forward, his dark bald head shining in the sun. He gave her an appreciative nod, as if he knew exactly how she felt. "Sure, you look new. Can you Dance yet?"

    "No."

    He winced. "Not sure it''s wise for a non-Dancer to-"

    She interrupted him with an icy glare, and his feet turned away from her.

    His body tensed at her attitude, his expression souring. "Seriously, maybe you should wait a few days and see if something comes and-"

    "I need to vent. Now."

    He sighed, turning to his right. "Malyt!" He called. "I need your help with something."

    All the fighters turned towards a sun haired man sitting and drinking water in the darkest shadow. He looked towards them and pointed towards himself, one eyebrow raised in question. The bald man waved him over, and Malyt obliged. Launa observed him. His hair was kept in a picture perfect ponytail almost as long as hers, and rested on a chest of lean but very defined muscles, as if he lifted boulders all day.

    "Malyt!" Nart called, finding his place next to Launa.

    Malyt''s entire being lit up. "Hey little guy," he said, rubbing the boy''s head.

    Nart pushed his hand away, and the frown he wore almost hid the grin fighting to control the lower half of his face. "Stop calling me that! I''ll be fourteen in two weeks."

    Malyt backed away, hands up in the air. "Oh, right. Sorry. You''re an ancient now. Sooooooo" He dragged the word for so long Nart had to throw a jab at him for it to stop. "old. Older than all of us. How can we rival with your wisdom?"

    Nart frowned again. "One day I''ll punch you for making fun of me so much."

    Malyt laughed. "Sure, go ahead. But if you do, I''ll stop working on your birthday present. It''ll be a shame, it''s almost done."

    Nart''s eyes filled with stars. "Serious? Is it what I think it is?"

    The blonde man put his hands on his hips triumphantly. "Carved your name in it."

    Nart almost jumped in joy, looking around for others to share in his glee, but he quickly met Launa''s gaze, her raging eyes stopped him in his tracks. "Oh right. Malyt, Launa. Launa, Malyt."

    "I need to vent," she said.

    "Though she''s just arrived." The bald man said.

    Malyt''s eyes widened. "And you want me to fight against a non-Dancer?"

    "Just get it over with," the other man whispered, but Launa heard it clear as day. Teach her her place, it meant. She would have gotten offended if she was in any place to care about her ego.

    Malyt sighed in resignation, and the crowd scattered away. "Have you even seen what Earth Dancing looks like? What it does?"

    "I don''t need to."

    He frowned. "Listen-"

    He was interrupted as she bolted towards him, grabbed his arm, and threw him over her shoulder. The crowd fell silent and only the sound of hard muscles hitting the sand echoed in the space, the nearby pond rippled with the impact. When the sand settled once more and stopped hiding Malyt''s shocked expression, he schooled it back to a frown. He sunk into the earth, the sand absorbing him like a sponge, and emerged standing a few feet in front of her.

    "We were talking," he said.

    "I don''t remember agreeing to talk."

    Malyt seemed to be holding back a smile. "Guess not."

    Launa felt the earth move below her. She jumped back, but the sand shifted everywhere her feet touched. She moved to a corner, jumping on one of the poles holding the canopy up, and held onto it with her thighs. Between her and Malyt was a path of shifting sands, hungry for anything.

    "See, as a non-Dancer you have no way to attack at a distance. I know you must be frustrated but it''s better to wait until-" Launa had thrown a rock at him, right at his face. He blocked it easily, willing it to sink into the sand before it even reached him, but when he turned his gaze back to the pole, she wasn''t there.

    He should have paid attention to the light footsteps from above, but Earth Dancers didn''t have the best reputation for looking up.

    Launa jumped off the canopy roof to land of Malyt''s shoulders. She wrapped her legs around his face, and fell back, flipping them over, taking care not to break his neck as she slammed him to the dust once more.

    Malyt lay stunned under her for a moment, his face to the ground, but it only took a second for an army of small rocks to rise around them and to barrel towards her. She lifted his body to block those on her right, which stopped in midair before hitting him, and protected her face as best as she could from the onslaught on the other side. The familiar sting and warmth of blood spread all over Launa''s body. Lys''s face popped up in her mind, thinking of how she would react to her injuries.

    It made her smile.

    The Earth Dancer turned to hit her in the head with his elbow. Launa almost avoided it, still getting a painful blow at the side of her head. She''d never been hit so hard, she made a mental note to ask if it was an Earth Dancer thing. The blow made her let go of his collar, and he quickly turned to tackle her to the ground, his head crushing her guts. Launa willed herself to lift his head up by his hair and land a heavy blow on his windpipe.

    Malyt''s breath stopped, and he heaved as he let go of her. He sunk into the earth once more, emerging crouched a few feet behind her. He had a full on smile on his face now, a trail of blood cascading down from his open mouth, and a forming bruise on his throat.

    "You''re good," he said, every breath a struggle.

    "I would say the same, but apparently ''I don''t know anything''."

    Malyt''s laugh came out with great difficulty, but his glee seemed to match Launa''s.

    "What in the Spirits is going on?"

    John''s voice broke the spell isolating the canopy from the rest of the island. Everyone present could breathe again, their eyes leaving the fight. Launa kept her smile as she saw John study all the points she was bleeding from and Malyt''s strained laugh.

    "I''m processing," she said, swiping back some strands of red hair which had come undone. I hope they have shampoo to wash off the blood, she thought. "I''m still confused, but I know I have to do whatever I can to find Lys again." The crowd started to murmur, and she saw Malyt''s eyes widen at the name. "Take me to the last place you saw her."

    John stood stunned for a moment, then his shoulders fell in resignation. "As long as you take care of those injuries first. Both of you."

    * * *

    John had warned Launa about the state of the ruins as they walked out of the small village of New-Sher and into the woods. She had said she was prepared.

    She was not.

    When the trees parted enough to let the house be seen, she held her breath. The entire clearing was black as soot. Signs of a struggle came as bits of the house could be seen stuck in rampant vines in nearby trees, and where there must have once been a house, now stood a pitiful, bug infested ruin.

    She walked through it, soot rushing to stain her shoes, the wood shouting in protest at the intrusion. With every creak came a picture of Lys, scared, hunted, alone.

    But I''m here now, she thought.

    She asked for a flower, and John handed her a narcissus.

    "I''ll come here everyday," she said as she placed the flower down at the entrance, a ritual of days long past. She wrote a short message in the black with her finger. The soot resisted the attempt to move it from its long term residency, but gave way, eventually. "Even if I have to do it for years. Until I find a better way to get to her, I''ll place a new flower every day."

    And she did.

    Every day.

    A week passed, and nothing happened. She still managed to trip here and there on the strange vegetation.

    Two weeks passed.

    Three weeks passed.

    A month passed, and she started to recognise the people she passed on the street. Even in the heat of the young summer, her feet still lead her here everyday. Her muscles were pleasantly sore from combat training on the island, some part of her body stinging from Malyt as he kept finding ways around her guard.

    Two months passed. The flowers she placed dried up in a single day from the heat, and the heavy rains turned the familiar path into a mess of mud and bugs.

    Still, she persisted.

    Three months passed.

    Four months passed. They were doing a sort of large burning ceremony that night. A farewell to summer. Launa moved against the flow of people, wearing their best tunics for the festival. She picked the usual narcissus on the way, they seemed to always be in bloom here, though she started to worry about the incoming winter. What would she leave for Lys then? She arrived at the ruins, at the usual spot, and placed a flower in the familiar soot.

    Then, she froze.

    The old flower wasn''t there anymore.

    She looked around, her heart pounding, and saw the unmistakable prints of a Fire Dancer blasting off. They faced west, beyond the great mountain range. She tried to push down the hope swelling in her chest. But all she managed to do was cry.

 Chapter 3

    "Do you think it''s possible that there are people who aren''t human but think they are?"

    Launa was startled by Lys''s question. It sounded innocent enough, but with it being the first question she''d ever asked, Launa took her time answering. She observed as Lys kept rubbing her brown eyes.

    "I don''t think it really matters." Lys turned to her, watching her intensely. Launa wasn''t used to this much attention from her. She could feel her face heating up. "We''re all so different already. Some people see sounds. Some can hear voices. We have so many different gender and sexual identities and even genomes. Being human is more like... a state of mind? If you want to identify as the piece of shit that humans are then you''re probably human."

    Lys looked stunned for a moment, but then she laughed. "Yeah, I think you''re right." Her smile lingered. Open. Honest. Fragile.

    And Launa was in love.

    CHAPTER 3

    BERYL

    B¨¦ryl stood facing Lake Seir. It seemed to be spreading further everyday, stalking and reaching out to the mountains, a tiger waiting to pounce and swallow them, as it did most of Eastern Henalda. B¨¦ryl wondered if lakes shared the greediness of men. On official business, he would have headed to the guard post, where an Earth Dancer on duty would open up the underground tunnel to reach the Garrison, but meeting Lys was anything but official.

    So the canoe it was.

    A feisty, flimsy thing with damaged paddles. It spent its life hiding in thick grass, waiting until the dead of night where B¨¦ryl''s nervous hands would take it on Lys adventures, never letting him down. Neither of them knew it at the time, but this would be their last crossing of the tiger lake. And instead of enjoying the way the eager wood brought him to shore, he looked at the troubled mirror of the night sky around him.

    The three moons were crescents, yet they never let any stars inside their hollow arc. Their missing parts were a blinding darkness, impenetrable even to their celestial counterparts. They resembled Lys in a way. You could see her, but not really. She was a brick wall, and even when you thought you had slithered through a crack to see the person behind the mask, you only saw darkness. With no moons to light up your path.

    Yet he had seen a bit of her that night. When she inspected the flower. It had barreled through her walls, and she hadn''t been quick enough to hide from sight. B¨¦ryl felt like he had seen too much. He had crossed an invisible line, and his feet still burned from the affront. He knew she wouldn''t come to see him anymore. But he also knew he would still go that next day. Part of him couldn''t help but trust her words.

    He wanted to trust her.

    A common chorus filled his ears. Stupid B¨¦ryl. Naive B¨¦ryl. B¨¦ryl would believe you if you said that the sky was going to fall tomorrow. But he couldn''t help it. There were too many what ifs in his mind. He didn''t want to deny their existence. He couldn''t. He preferred to trust and be hurt than to never trust at all. And if that made him stupid, then he would be stupid. He had his story straight. If she didn''t come, he would give all he knew to the army. He would get a commendation and maybe a juicy promotion. Tonight could be his last night in the noisy east wing dormitories. With a bit of luck he would get a room in the west wing. He heard they got double beds there.

    He wanted a double bed.

    The Garrison was a proud red even in darkness. Torches lit up every new cranny of the eastern and western wing, while the central building lay forgotten, its red dull and tired. The wings had been built during the military boom of the pre-war, a symbol of the General''s greatness, while the original building was a testament to the erasure of the monarchy.

    A living painting of the Civil War.

    Which wasn''t much of a war.

    General Avriel had convinced the Crown to invest in the army, recounting the horrors of the Drifter epidemic and the need to protect the people, then, when the Crown became no more than a formality, it turned on them and crushed the King like the giant it had become. B¨¦ryl remembered the stories his parents had told him about the General. How he had outsmarted the royal family to orchestrate a coup with as little bloodshed as possible, and how the cities filled with clamouring voices at the news. He hadn''t lived a moment without the General as his leader. And he was glad he didn''t. He proudly followed his parents'' footsteps by joining the army. A decision met with warm smiles and cake.

    He wouldn''t trade that day for the world.

    Over two years he had lived in the Eastern Garrison after transferring from Rasphira''s training program. Two years of wandering through the bright red corridors, the infinite open veins of the building. Posters fought for space on the walls. Jobs, warnings, wanted posters, new regulations. Who needed books when you could just tour the immense building and get the same overload of information?

    There were posters of Lys here too.

    There always were.

    Though the sketch was outdated now. The Lys on the Wall seemed too calm. Too naive. Too... open.

    The Lys on the Wall made him believe there was a normal person like him behind those white eyes.

    He caught himself, straightening his spine and glancing around him. No one looked at her anymore. Every able eyed person was able to draw her in their sleep by now. She was a companion during walks, a legend to twist in your own special way around campfires, a joke between friends. She was like the wind. No one knows where it comes from, but it''s just there, and you live with it.

    B¨¦ryl entered one of the common rooms, eager to sit on anything comfortable after the rough boat ride. The tired shape of a woman waited for him, splattered with her limbs on every part of the sofa..

    "Long day Maara?" He asked, walking closer. Her tan face turned towards him and she showed him a smile which couldn''t seem to decide if it was happy or pained.

    "Finally!" She said. Her whole body seemed to come awake, what little there was of it. B¨¦ryl always joked he could carry her in her pocket. They made a strange combo with their sizes, B¨¦ryl often using her shoulder as an elbow rest. But they clicked, and they worked, and he was very glad to have found her. "Sit! I have much complaining to do."

    B¨¦ryl sat between her legs and mimed the opening of a book, ready to note down his notes on his imaginary paper. "What''s on your mind My Lady?"

    Her eyebrows met in anger "First, never call me that. I will rip your arm off." Maara was a Lady, her house one of the few surviving the fall of the monarchy by the grace of the General. Noble power was now mostly a tale they told themselves to sleep at night, but they had their money, some control their lands, and they lived happily in their own noble delusion.

    She proceeded to recount her day training new recruits, which she hated doing because she had no patience, even though she was great at it. She mostly hated it for the period of time it took those recruits to learn to respect her despite her size. One of them had decided to skip the strength training session because, in his words: What is she going to do? Stand on her tippy toes and slap me?

    Maara was a Water Dancer, a proper one. And they were on an island, training next to the biggest body of water in Henalda.

    She didn''t need her toes to slap some sense into him.

    "What about you? How was your ''walk''"

    B¨¦ryl grinned, lifting his trusty satchel to show the documents Lys had given him earlier that night.

    "I have proof that our weapon supplier was using back alley trading to evade the Tyre tax. They''ve been falsifying the Tyre seal on all their ledgers. We could raid soon and rack up a good amount of contraband."

    Maara''s eyes widened. "Give me that," she said, springing up like a rabbit and snagging the paper from B¨¦ryl''s hands, almost ripping it. Her eyes scanned it with lightning speed, her frown deepening with every second.

    "How did you get this?" She asked, her voice filled with more concern than glee. "Is it from that informant of yours in Rasphira?"

    B¨¦ryl gulped, his body tensing up. "How did you know about that?"

    She rolled her eyes. "Please. I let it slide because you''re a stickler to the rules and I thought you were just having fun but this... Whoever it is, they''re good. And not the good kind of good. The kind where I wouldn''t be surprised if their poster was in the corridors."

    B¨¦ryl gulped once more and took back the documents from her worried hands. "It''s fine," he said. "I have it under control."

    Maara watched him closely. "Do you?"

    He couldn''t bring himself to say yes.

    B¨¦ryl woke with the weight of a bad day crushing his chest. He felt it in the air, gently serenaded by the loud snoring of his unconscious roommate. Still, he got up before roll call, shaved, and put up his dreadlocks. He put on his perfectly ironed red uniform, checking with his overworked shaving mirror if everything was up to code. Was a button undone? Or becoming loose? Were his shoulder pads straight? The tails of his coat perfectly symmetrical?

    Every detail mattered. He always came out of his bathroom looking perfectly presentable. You couldn''t deny B¨¦ryl''s dedication to the job. It was another armor. Something he could always control. Especially with what awaited him down in the main lobby. He crossed paths with Maara on his way down, and was met with eyes full of pity. She had read about his assignment. He silently thanked her for the thoughts, and walked as slowly as a compulsively punctual person could.

    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    The main hall was a pale reflection of the grandeur of the Eastern Garrison. There were pretentious decorations on humble stairs and red paint determined to cover the imperfections of the ancient brick wall beneath. But the most jarring aspect of the room was the group of creatures waiting for him at the doorstep.

    Five humanoid embodiments of the colour white were staying around.

    Perfectly still.

    Perfectly silent.

    They didn''t look at each other. Their eyes were unfocused, dead bodies on invisible strings.

    White hair.

    White nails.

    White skin.

    White eyes.

    It was enough to make anyone''s skin crawl.

    Special Force Officers was their official name. They worked directly under the General. No one knew where they came from. They appeared, did their jobs, then flew off.

    People called them Ghosts, though they were careful not to call them that to their face. Not that they would really mind, B¨¦ryl thought, they didn''t seem capable of any emotion, much less pride. B¨¦ryl''s job today was to guide them and mitigate their impact on the people. A friendly face to help them forget the monsters flying over their heads. He hated every second he spent close to those freaks, but a job was a job. His fake smile clocked in with a silent ding, and his determination took him down the narrow stairs.

    All five of them turned to look at him.

    All of them.

    At the same time.

    Their expressions perfect copies of each other.

    B¨¦ryl couldn''t help but freeze, an intense chill running down his spine.

    This is going to be a very bad day.

    He came close, managing a strained Let''s go then!

    His fake smile demanded a raise.

    He headed outside to the Mobile Reception. With the Ghosts hovering behind him, his request for a Fire Mobile was treated with uncomfortable speed. The receptionist would have gladly thrown it at him if it meant that they would leave sooner. He took a second to find the fire tubes and place his feet on each. He hadn''t driven any kind of Mobile in a while, and he hoped he could control his flame output and combustion so he wouldn''t rush to meet lake fish society.

    The ghosts didn''t get in. They never did. They floated behind him, too good for the ground.

    B¨¦ryl drove out and met the receptionist. The man fell into a deep stance and started Dancing. B¨¦ryl couldn''t look away. He loved watching Earth Dancers. Their movements were sharp, strong. As if their whole life depended on every single move. They were always barefoot as they Danced. For a deeper connection. The grass beneath them swayed along as they Danced, creating beautiful patterns, but the real feat was the earth before them slowly lifting up to reveal a two meters high and wide tunnel for Mobile use.

    The receptionist came to his window. "Remember how to do this?"

    B¨¦ryl winced. "Sort of."

    "Honk your horn once you get to the other side, they''ll open up for ya," He said with a strained smile as the Ghosts hovered above him. "Dance gently, don''t burn out the whole fuel in once go, they''ll have some more on the other side just in case. Control is key, you''re alone, you''re light, you''ll go very fast very easily."

    B¨¦ryl nodded. The man dared a glance to the group before adding, "Still hate feeling them nearby, but I guess they''re needed. Monsters to fight monsters, they say, eh? At least these are on our side."

    "That''s a way to put it."

    The Earth Dancer smiled and smacked the side of the mobile. "See ya later soldier."

    B¨¦ryl mirrored his smile, saluting. He drove into the tunnel, catching a glimpse of the Special Force Officers flying over the lake. His stomach churned at the thought of being with them for an entire day. Monsters to fight monsters. He repeated.

    Monsters to fight monsters.

    The scenery beyond the window of the Fire Mobile ran past like a chased rabbit, so B¨¦ryl set his sights on A''lu, its mountains eager to meet the clouds. When he danced and used his flames to propel himself into the air, they seemed so attainable, friendly even. But from down here, they made sure to remind him of how small he was. Of how small everything was. Some didn''t like feeling small. They liked to think their worries and actions could change the world. Thinking of themselves as the protagonists of some epic adventure which just hadn''t started yet.

    B¨¦ryl liked feeling small.

    It made life bearable. When everything was becoming too much, so heavy that he couldn''t move or breathe, he thought of the mountains. Of how small everything really was. And he could breathe again. Today was the same. Even if this day with Ghosts became a long one, it was small. It would be over before he knew it. They would arrive in Compe. The Ghosts would do their job. He would drive back. Have dinner. Chat with Maara. And sleep. Just like every other small day.

    He almost ran the Ghosts over as they dropped down at the entrance of the village.

    Some part of him was silently disappointed he didn''t.

    He parked the Mobile, entering Work Mode as he saw the expressions on the locals'' faces fall at the sight of the Special Forces. He went before the group, his fake smile working overtime.

    "We''ll be out of here before you know it. I apologise for the inconvenience," he repeated, to varying results. Some breathed a sigh of relief as they saw him, knowing that they weren''t alone with...those.

    The Ghosts led the march around the bickering village, B¨¦ryl following behind like a dog, softening their effect as much as he could. When they arrived at the main square, they flew off in different directions. It was the first time today they hadn''t moved in total unison. B¨¦ryl couldn''t tell which was stranger.

    "Are you okay my boy?" A warm voice came from next to him. An elderly woman smelled of flowers and the fresh bread she held in her basket. She checked the sky as she came towards him.

    "Why are you walking around with those things?"

    B¨¦ryl smiled, putting his hand on his heart and bowing slightly as he spoke. "Just making sure they''re not disturbing the peace of your lovely village madam. I wouldn''t want any of you to be upset and have this beautiful day ruined for you."

    She blushed, raising her free hand to her face. "What a brave young man. We''re really glad to be so close to the Garrison you know? It makes us feel safe."

    B¨¦ryl kept his smile. "I''m glad you feel that wa-" A scream in the distance interrupted him.

    They''ve started.

    The woman gasped. "My, to think there were some here."

    As seconds passed, the screams multiplied. Screams of surprise shifted into denial and then distant begging, a morbid choir filling the village. Villagers hurried to their homes. Those weren''t screams of beings people wanted to rescue.

    "You should get back inside, who knows what they could do when angered." B¨¦ryl said to the woman. She nodded, her eyes grateful and apologetic.

    Ghosts came back, one by one, dragging humanoid beings along with them. If there was one group people loathed even more than Ghosts, it was them.

    Drifters.

    There were five in front of him now. Two men, two women, and a boy, or that''s what they appeared as. Drifters: creatures from other worlds who weren''t satisfied with their own, all too happy to come here and wreak havoc. They didn''t have the decency to keep their original forms. They chose to look human to manipulate them better.

    A coward''s strategy.

    Even now, they were a perfect mirror of despair and fear. Some were injured. One had a broken leg and the boy had a broken arm. Most were crying. Their eyes scraped their surroundings, craving any smidge of pity.

    But there was none.

    The villagers had all gone inside to avoid contact, and B¨¦ryl had seen too many to feel such emotions at their tricks.

    Their screams turned to quiet sobs as they were carried outside of the village. Though public executions of Drifters were common in the bigger cities, the smaller folks weren''t entertained by such displays. They just wanted to get back to plowing.

    B¨¦ryl''s eyes lingered a second too long on the Lys on the Wall, but he quickly caught himself as some villagers were waving him goodbye. His fake smile clocked out as he turned away from Compe.

    They passed the Fire Mobile and went deeper into the forest, where they could simply leave the bodies without disturbing the locals too much. The Ghosts lined up the five drifters in a line. They had stopped fighting, a mirror of despair digging and leaving its somber trace onto their faces. The Special Forces then began their usual inspection. No one knew why they did it. Rumour was those who passed were taken somewhere.

    But no one cared.

    B¨¦ryl stood at attention. No matter how much he hated Ghosts, this was his job, he would see it through with the full etiquette.

    They inspected the first one. One of the women, its body vibrating terror. It kept mumbling words which sounded like prayers, but the gods of its old world could not hear it here. A hand of white stopped the words, blocking the Drifter''s airways. Colour rushed to leave its skin, its arms moving in macabre dancing spasms. With a jolly thump, its body hit the ground. A rock awaited its skull, and the crack of their kiss filled the silent forest. No blood leaked from the wound, only a hungry darkness. It surged in its eyes and mouth, both open wide, empty and full all at once. This face of dead Drifters haunted B¨¦ryl''s intruding nightmares, and his heart begged him to turn away, but he watched, as was his duty.

    He watched as darkness spread from face to face, going down the line, eager.

    He watched as terror shifted to otherworldly emptiness.

    He watched as Ghosts slowly drained Drifters of anything remotely human.

    "Please stop." The boy pleaded. Tears spilled from every part of its eyes, abandoning a sinking ship. B¨¦ryl noticed a strange mark below one of them. Three dots, just like the moons, an odd trait to put on a made up face. "We don''t deserve this-" Its voice bore the weight of death and continued despair. "We never wanted to- Malyt," it called. "help-" it fell silent as white latched onto him, and moments later, the darkness filled it as well.

    B¨¦ryl''s stomach turned. He shouldn''t feel anything for those creatures, he knew, but there was something in the way they moved that was too human. B¨¦ryl''s first instinct when seeing pain was to help, not watch. He hated how Drifters made him feel.

    Just die already. He thought.

    Every cry of despair was a knife to his stomach, every tear a sting to his heart, yet he watched on. Until darkness filled every eye and five empty husks laid in the forest, he kept watching.

    The Ghosts turned to him.

    All at once.

    Their white eyes dug into his soul.

    "Are you-" his breath ran from his lungs. He fell forwards, grasping at his throat.

    A Ghost crouched in front of him. But there was something wrong.

    Its expression wasn''t dead.

    It was looking at him, confidence and power exuding from the snow-white eyes which suddenly reminded him of someone.

    "Now, little traitor," It said, voice full of anger and glee. "Where is Lys?"

 Chapter 4

    "You got in a fight."

    Lys''s voice came at Launa like a knife. The fighter usually came back unscathed from her street squabbles but one guy''s knife had sneaked in to taste the blood in her arm. It looked worse than it was, and every bit worth the worried look on Lys''s face.

    "What, you''re starting to care about me?"

    Lys moved back, her eyes scanning Launa''s face. The red-haired woman couldn''t breathe, eager and desperate for Lys''s next words.

    "Maybe."

    CHAPTER 4

    LYS

    The sight of Launa in the sunken square crashed Lys''s world. Her eyes couldn''t focus on anything else. She let her wind slither down the roof top, willing it to mix with the morning breeze. It brushed over the intruder''s body, scanning her face, her arms, her hands, her present beating heart.

    Over, and over again.

    Until Launa rose up narrow steps.

    Lys wanted to cry. To throw up. To faint. To scream ''Why are you here?''

    Why are you here?

    In her fantasies, Lys would always run to Launa. They would collide, surrounded by fragrant notes of flowers and tears. Lys would latch onto Launa''s body like a lifeline, a reward for a hard lived existence. She would feel Launa''s voice against her ear, murmuring sweet words of reassurance. "You''ve done well." She would say. That''s all Lys needed. A fantasy to last another day. The thought maybe, if she lasted another night, another week, another month, they could meet again. Somewhere.

    Anywhere but here.

    Not here, where Lys had flown by a pile of darkness-filled Drifter bodies from the afternoon''s execution.

    Not here, where her face was still wielded on every wall.

    Not here, where Lys was still terrified of herself.

    Why did you come here?

    How many fantasies had turned into red nightmares?

    Her mind tortured her with every way she could hurt Launa. A severed head. A severed limb. A wind blade to the throat, to an artery. Many times had she lashed out and heard the ear-shattering thud of Launa''s body break against a wall. She saw bits of her partner falling around her, like confetti, landing in her open hands, her open mouth, her open eyes, tears mixing with splattered blood. Her throat swallowed skin and cells, and her stomach burned of Launa.

    When she awoke, she knew Launa was safe. Far away. In a world where she could live in the light in peace. But now, she was here, where the simple act of walking amongst natives could get her killed.

    Lys covered her mouth, clamping down on tears and vomit.

    Why did you have to come here?

    A lifetime of solitude was more merciful than this dread.

    I have to protect her, she thought.

    I have to protect her.

    She turned to the shop. For the second time in her life, she went to look for John, hating the person she had become between these visits. Hating the world she''d had to survive in.

    She dropped to a window, concentrating on her body. In an instant, she was little more than air with a memory of humanity. Losing her shape, she slid in through the cracks around the window. Inside, she flicked the latch open, opening the window to let in her bag and clothes. She slid back into them, latching on her will to be human, then reformed her body. The smell of herbs and potions seeped into the dark wooded wall and Lys''s nostrils, and suddenly she was eighteen again, scared and confused. The warm hands of Leesha and Mordo weren''t on her back to reassure her anymore. The taste of independence was bitter on her tongue.

    It didn''t take long for a blunt table knife with hopes of violence to touch her throat. She barely felt it as it whizzed through the air. She had heard John was skilled.

    "Who are you?" He said, his voice full of violent promises. He had other knives floating around him. More for show than anything else. The White Shape tried to grab one, but its fingers just passed right through. It started at the limb, a white wish of a hand, as if its own ethereal nature surprised it.

    Air Dancers were rare. No one knew how to fight them. Some fights ended with Lys making a leaf float. John was using the same trick.

    "I''m disappointed," she said, her voice light. "I heard you were a good host. Were my sources wrong?" She lowered her hood, letting the man see her face.

    "Ly-" The name caught in his throat. Even if he arranged for the flower message, he probably hadn''t expected her to actually come.

    To be fair, she hadn''t either.

    "Why is Launa walking around outside?" She couldn''t think of anything else. "Why isn''t she at the Order''s Headquarters where she''d be safe?"

    John looked taken aback, but smiled. "She''s helping me with my shop as thanks for staying here to wait for you," he said as if expecting it to be honey to Lys''s ears, but it only birthed flames from her gut.

    "Wha- Why would you do that?!" She all but screamed. John''s smiled crashed. "How long has she been here? Does she know everything she needs to know? What if there''s a Ghost raid?"

    The man blinked, unprepared for her outburst. He looked at her properly, for the first time since their reunion, and she felt his wind pass through every nerve on her skin, noting the tension and despair.

    "Come in, we can talk over some tea. You need some."

    Lys wanted to argue, but the man didn''t wait for her answer, sinking into the depths of the shop to his living quarters.

    He kept sneaking glances at her as he prepared the tea. It made her self conscious. She couldn''t remember the last time she let a new acquaintance see her face. It took people time to think of her as something more human than just a face on a wall.

    She hated it.

    People had created this mysticism around her. Around what she could have done, what she was capable of. It amused her, at first, overhearing the crazy theories civilians had for her. But over time, every tale latched onto her back, creating a monstrous amalgamation of expectations. They crawled on top of each other, a mess of limbs full of rumours and the weight of lies. She was tired of it.

    "I know you weren''t with the Order for long," John started. "But we have a constant influx of Drifters. We know how to take care of new arrivals. Launa wouldn''t have been let out of Headquarters if we weren''t confident she knew what she was doing."

    Lys''s frown was powered with doubt, he kept him going.

    "Besides, from what I''m hearing she''s more than capable of taking care of herself."

    Something inside her snapped.

    "You don''t actually believe that, do you?" She interjected, her voice a sharp knife, sharper than she intended.

    "That she''s a capable fighter?"

    "John," She sighed. "I didn''t just rest on my laurels for three years. I looked you up." The man froze mid sip. "Don''t tell me to just sit there and trust she''ll be okay out there. If that were true, there would be two more people living with you. Where are they now?"

    "Be careful what you speak of, child." John''s voice lost all hints of warmth or kindness. His face was grave. "If you did your research then you should know not to speak to me of this."

    She slammed her fist on the wall. "And you should know not to tell me she''ll just ''be okay''."

    John put down his tea cup, perhaps a bit too quickly. "So what? Are you just going to stick to her like glue? Why aren''t you outside with her now if that''s the case?"

    Their conversation had turned sour. Neither voice sounded remotely friendly.

    "Right! Let''s have her stick to the most wanted criminal in Henalda! That''ll keep her safe!" Lys didn''t mean to raise her voice, but even tea couldn''t calm her frustration.

    "What did you do?"

    "Don''t ask me!"

    John sighed, breathing in to calm himself. He brought the tea cup back to his lips. "Lys, I know the General more than you might think, he would never spend this much resources for nothing. Do you remember anything unusual?"

    "I don''t know!" She stood up, eager to do something, anything. She had been stuck in the closed walls of confusion for too long. "Everybody keeps saying I''ve done this, unthinkable thing, but I did nothing! I was living my life, going to school, everything perfectly normal until this blonde weirdo and some ghost girl just- waltzed through the door."

    John coughed up his tea, barely managing to catch the drops with his Dancing before they fell on the cushions. "You saw her!?" His voice had lost its hostility, filled only with genuine surprise.

    Lys didn''t see why she was stopped for that detail. "Yeah, she-" She hesitated to continue. She was going to say she eerily resembled The White Shape. Not in shape, but in principle.

    She glanced to her left, where the White Shape was inspecting the small kitchen. It was barely see through, delicate, familiar and terrifying all at once. She felt they were too similar for comfort. But she wouldn''t say it out loud. She hadn''t talked about The White Shape out loud for over three years now, and John certainly wouldn''t be the first to hear it.

    "Anyway-" She continued, "He comes and just grabs me without saying a word, like a small child. I was terrified and my teacher tried to intervene. But the General was too strong as I started to panic and I- I-" She saw the red walls again. "And then I just froze and let him take me through the door. I ended up in this weird misty purple corridor. We kept going further and further and when his grip started to lessen because he thought I was just too in shock to resist. I shook him off and opened the first door I could reach. I barreled into Leesha and Mordo''s living room as they were having lunch through the door they usually used to connect to the Order. They were almost more confused than I was when I told them I wasn''t from-" She stopped as she glanced down at John who had spilled half his tea on the floor, which she was too busy frantically pacing to notice. "Are you okay?"

    "I''m-" He started, hesitant. "I''m sorry, I must have misheard. I thought you said you opened a door in that corridor you described."

    Lys stared at him, cocking her head in confusion. "I did?"

    John looked at her as if she was crazy. "No- No. No." He stood and briskly walked towards the door connecting the living quarters to the storefront. He placed his hand on the handle, and moments later, purple mist oozed from every crack. Lys rushed to see it, feeling a bizarre sense of nostalgia as she saw the strange corridor again when he opened the door.

    "I will only ask you this once," he said, each word as heavy as the world. "Did you, or did you not, open a door while in this corridor?"

    Lys blinked. "I did."

    John''s eyes bore into her, observing her face for any kind of crack, of lies. His search seemed to have been in vain as he closed his eyes in resignation.

    "I need something stronger," He said, letting his cup of tea merrily float to empty what little was left in the sink. He closed the door to the misty corridor, then opened it again, this time it led to the shop front. He headed towards a shelf labelled pain relief, but before he could get anything, the front door opened.

    It took Lys half a second to fade into air and hide her clothes under a counter. John was more surprised than reactive, and his startle broke several potions on the counter he had leaned on.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    "Is everything okay?"

    Launa''s voice.

    Lys couldn''t see in this state, but she could feel. She could feel every inch of her face, of her hair. Her soft voice resonated inside of Lys''s very core, and if she had eyes, she probably would have cried.

    She''s so close.

    "Yes!'' John answered. She could feel his eyes frantically looking for her. "Yes. Of course. I''m fine. Very fine. Don''t mind me. You have something to do, don''t you? Don''t let me keep you. Go ahead."

    "I''m...off then."

    Lys drank in her voice, letting it vibrate in the gust of air she was until the closet door closed and she could reform once more. She could feel John''s eyes on her as she kept her gaze to the door separating her from Launa.

    "You," he started. "and I, need to have a nice, long chat."

    Lys hummed in agreement, still looking at the door which, only seconds earlier, had brought the fresh smell of the ocean. "Just give me five minutes."

    Before John could stop her, she stepped out of the shop, towards the flower fields she had seen earlier. With the sun fully out in the sky, they were all blooming at their best. Gently swaying in the wind.

    She searched for the best.

    Launa deserved the best.

    She flew back to the sunken square, finding the kitchen window. She cradled the flower as she placed it in a small crack. One you wouldn''t normally notice. But Launa had been trained to notice small kitchen window cracks. Lys saw John watching her inquisitively from the other side of the glass. She just smiled at him. Only one person needed to know what she was doing. They couldn''t talk for long, with Launa''s impending return hanging over their heads. Once he had enough information, John directed her towards the closet door. She observed it closely. In her three years in this world, she had never seen anything quite like portals. She could manipulate the air around her, but John could connect any two doors from anywhere in the world with the single flick of a switch.

    Just when she thought she had gotten used to everything.

    "Don''t speak to anyone about what we talked about today," John said, his voice grave. "I need to take this up to Philip first."

    "Philip?"

    "The poor soul driving the Order." John had said this with humour, but it barely concealed the sadness under his words. Lys didn''t blame him. To survive as a Drifter, even in the Order, one had to go out into the world. And going out into the world, meant wagering their lives on whether the sky would be filled with the whiteness of Ghosts. The Order of Narcissus didn''t stop Drifters from dying. It filled the remainder of their lives with safe beds and convivial food. It kept up the illusion of safety.

    It nourished the ''maybe''.

    ''Maybe I''ll survive tomorrow.''

    ''Maybe everything will be alright.''

    Philip patted their backs, said: "Yes, you''ll be just fine." then prepared the funerals of the executed.

    It seemed so pointless in the grand scheme of the world, but with Launa in the equation, she was more than glad for their existence. She stepped out through the door and into the forest cradle of the island, keeping an eye out for Launa. Her feet sunk into the welcoming white sand, and the ocean wind twirled around her. With no one in sight, she flew up into one of the imposing trees. Their first branch seemed to be further from the ground than the top of any respectable tree on the mainland. The island trees silently asserting their dominance even with no one to see them. Lys watched. She let the ocean air ruffle her hair as she battled against sleep. She let herself feel the forest around her, a cradle to a door of many possibilities. She saw many people come and go from the solitary doorway.

    Some came out soaked as dogs, quickly taking off their shoes and rolling up their tunics so the sand wouldn''t stick. Some went in as hooded figures, connecting the door to a dark alley. Some came out carrying the rich smell of a farmer''s market, along with a large carrier basket full of fruits and vegetables. One went in with fiery red hair, a body covered in sweat, and a face full of satisfaction. Lys watched as her smile fell in front of the door. She saw Launa breathe in deep before turning the handle. Lys knew she wasn''t being fair, letting her presence known while keeping herself away from her. But there was too much at stake. And Lys had gotten much too used to running.

    She floated down, feeling the warm sand under her feet once more. She took one last glance at the quiet door, wondering what face Launa would make as she saw the flower.

    Maybe it had been too long? Maybe she didn''t remember? She hoped she would see it in the morning, wake up to good news. Lys smiled. It had been too long since her actions had the potential to bring joy to someone. Feeling jittery, she started to turn. Today was a good-

    The door barreled open, as if gasping for air. Lys couldn''t help but turn back to look.

    Their eyes met.

    White met green and the world stopped for a moment. They stood there, Launa with one foot on the sand and her right hand on the door, Lys half turned towards it. The Air Dancer observed with a scientific obsession how Launa''s expression went from desperation, to shock, to a smile which could rival the brightest stars.

    "Ly-"

    Lys flew up like an arrow. Reaching back up to the branch she had previously rested on. Her heart beat a mile a second. Her eyes focused on the trunk before her, but her wind kept focusing on Launa, indiscreetly scanning every inch of her face. She was frowning.

    "...What are you doing?" She asked, looking up to the heights where Lys was barely as big as an arm. It seemed she knew enough about Air Dancing from living with John to know there was no need to raise her voice for Lys to hear her.

    The Air Dancer stayed silent. She hadn''t prepared for this. She didn''t know what to say. She still needed more time to know what she wanted to be with Launa.

    "Well, I''m going to talk then." Lys could feel Launa''s face falling. "I wanted to apologise."

    Lys turned to look at her. "What?" She made sure her voice carried right up to the red-haired woman''s ears.

    "I went back to school as quick as I could, you know, though back then I didn''t know about this whole world-hopping business. Good thing there was still a distortion floating around, probably from when you got taken. And I did end up here, which is good, but I ended up coming much later, and you were here alone. I should have gone back much sooner. I can''t imagine what it''s been like."

    Lys frowned. "Wait- You came here because of me?" She couldn''t believe she was forming those words. There was something cold in her chest. Very cold. She could live with herself if Launa had come here by mistake, but she had followed her?

    She had followed her?

    "As willingly as I could be while being ignorant of everything. You know I would never leave you alone." Launa smiled, and Lys snapped.

    She stood, her body like a live wire of despair. "Why?! Why would you ever do that?"

    Launa seemed taken aback, her face in shock. "What do you mean why? You know why!" Anger started to seep out of her voice. "Are you telling me you wouldn''t do the same for me?!"

    "Of course I would!"

    "Then what''s the problem!?" She was irritated. She had surely been expecting a joyful, tear-filled reunion, not whatever this mess was. "Are you going to say some self-deprecating bullshit again? Like ''Oh, no, how could she do this for little old me? I don''t even deserve to set foot on this earth, I am but an insect.''"

    "High school woes have nothing to do with this situation! You know how serious this is! You could die at any time!"

    "And you couldn''t?"

    "I can defend myself!"

    "So can I! Now come down from your tree you''re ridiculous!"

    "No you-" Lys saw flashes of red. Red walls. Red sand. Launa with wind lacerations, her eyes lifeless and filled with darkness, blood slowly leaving her body to reach the ground.

    Drip.

    Drip.

    Drip.

    She could barely breathe.

    "Things aren''t the same Launa!"

    "Why?!" Launa''s voice was only anger. It had lost all softness, filled with confusion, and hurt, and Lys''s heart hurt all the more.

    "Go back. I need to see Philip and I don''t want you to get in my way." She made her voice sound as cold as she felt.

    It was hard.

    So hard.

    She wanted to cry.

    "Oh, so I get in your way now? Lys the ''legend'' doesn''t need me anymore?"

    "Go. Back." She poorly concealed her shaking voice, and she knew Launa could hear it. She always did. She could read her like an open book with footnotes on every word.

    "You know this isn''t over, right?"

    Lys didn''t respond. She stood there, straight as she could be. They both knew she wouldn''t back down. Even with Launa''s headstrong personality, Lys was always the most stubborn of the two. She stood, face stern even if Launa couldn''t discern it. It hurt, facing Launa like this. She was counting down the seconds until she left, until she could break down.

    Launa slowly turned, keeping her gaze on Lys as long as she could. She walked to the solitary door which had stayed ajar, there was no doubt John had heard at least half of the conversation. She glanced one last time at Lys before slamming the door behind her.

    Lys walked with heavy steps to reach the Tower of Names. She didn''t want to use her wind. She couldn''t help but think of what it had already done. Of what it could do. Of how she wished she could live without it. There was a commotion forming around her. Loud whispers. Gasps. She reached up to her face. Right, not only was she not wearing her blindfold, she also hadn''t put her hood up. She was in full view of everyone.

    The moving sketch.

    The criminal.

    The Legend.

    There was a sentinel at the tower''s entrance reading a book. She didn''t blame him, the order was famously impossible to find, with it being only accessible through portals. But you could never have too many precautions.

    "Hey, I need to see Philip."

    The man hummed, finishing his sentence. "Why are you asking me, don''t you know where-" He looked up. She could see the moment he thought he was dreaming, the confusion in his eyes, which quickly turned into utter disbelief. "What the fuck," he said in the calmest voice she had ever heard.

    Lys didn''t bother playing along. "Philip''s office?"

    "Right on top," he said, eyes still wide as plates. "Just get on the stairs and keep going until you can''t anymore. You''re lucky, he was about to leave soon."

    "Guess I am," she said, smile strained. She entered the tower, finding the winding stairs lining the wall on her right. She went up, conscious of the sentinel peeking his head in to just stare at her.

    She missed her blindfold. Her eyes were drawn to the names on every stone. She had an inkling as to what they represented. The future of drifters. Her own future. Launa''s. Her heart started stammering again, banging against her ribs. She had a hard time breathing, holding on to the wall with her right hand. She kept seeing red. Red stones. Red hands. Red bubbling. Red dripping. The tower seemed to close into itself. It was crushing her.

    She knew what was happening. She''d had too many of them. She tried to focus on her environment, anything that wasn''t those bloody stones. She found a picture frame on the wall. It was discrete, so much so that you could pass by it and never even notice it was there. The frame was wooden brown, rough with years. In it, was an expertly drawn sunrise.

    It was mesmerising. The warm colours of the sun shot out from the small object. Lys grounded herself by looking at every detail. Every tree, every flower. There was a small scribble at the bottom right. A signature.

    To Robb, my Love. by Narcissus.

    Someone was coming down the stairs. She straightened herself, breathed as deeply as she could, then put on her invisible mask. She started climbing again, keeping her eyes firmly off of the wall.

    "Oh, I was about to leave. Can I help you?" The man, Philip she guessed, said. His long brown hair fell into his weathered face as he walked down. His eyes, wide as plates when he recognised her, were the dark of sleeplessness, and his shoulders low from heavy expectations. She felt like she was looking in a mirror. He at least had the decency to hide his surprise after a few seconds. "Well," he started again, voice almost stable. "Back up to my office we go."

    She followed him in silence, still not calm enough to trust herself to speak. Philip was equally silent, stiff as a plank, and seemed to have a hard time finding the keyhole to the dark door. She surely wasn''t what he expected to see after clocking out.

    "Make yourself comfortable," he said as they entered.

    Lys looked around what seemed to be the waiting room, with old sofas and a worn-out low table. It looked like a poorly organised garage sale set up, each piece full of its own history and style. Strangely, they didn''t clash with each other, but lived in strange, mismatched harmony.

    Lys sat on the black sofa, while Philip stayed standing.

    "So.'' he started, his hands twisting like they couldn''t decide what position they wanted to be in. "What can we do for you?"

    "I want to make a deal." It came out rushed. She blamed it on lack of sleep.

    Philip raised an eyebrow. "Go on..."

    "I will do whatever I can to help the Order. Whatever mission you need me to do. In exchange, I want you to make protecting Launa your top priority."

    The man looked perplexed. "Launa as in our Launa? Red-haired-"

    "The one and only."

    Philip took a second to digest her words. "I have to admit, I didn''t completely believe her when she said she knew you. As you may know, becoming a Drifter does tend to make people go a bit..." he waved his index around the right side of his face. "I should apologise to her when I get a chance. I just need a precision."

    She nodded.

    "I''m assuming the person in question has no idea you''re asking us about this."

    Lys shook her head. "Is there any way you could do this without her knowing?"

    "You mean secretly keeping one of my best fighters safely cooped up on the island and never sending her on missions she''ll be training others for?" He said with a nervous smile.

    She groaned, putting her head in her hands. "This is hopeless, isn''t it? She''s going to go out there, be reckless and get herself-" She couldn''t say it. Her mouth wouldn''t form the word while thinking of Launa. She stood up, pacing. "There has to be a way." She turned to Philip. "Do you have maybe a remote little shack in the middle of nowhere where you could send her as a ''recon'' mission of some sort?"

    Philip raised an eyebrow "You really think she''ll be fooled by that?"

    "Then what do you suggest?"

    Philip''s face fell. He forced a smile but it didn''t reach his eyes. "Oh, you don''t want to learn from me."

    She cocked her head in confusion.

    He sighed. "I''m living your worst-case scenario."

    Oh. Oh. "Oh, I''m so-"

    "Don''t apologise. Let me just tell you something." His eyes as he looked at her were deep. Full of so many emotions she didn''t even dare try to discern them. "People die," he said. "That''s a fact. Whether now or later, whether we have something to do with it or not. So if you care about her, spend every single second you can with her. Because we can''t control our time, but we can control the time we spend with those we love."

    He smiled. A sad, but genuine smile. "And isn''t that the most important?"

 Chapter 5

    "There you are."

    Lys found Launa crouched in the corner of the cemetery, her eyes solidly fixed on a spot on the other side of it. Lys didn''t have to follow it to know where it led.

    "Do you do this every year? Just watch them from a distance?"

    Launa nodded. "You know how they died."

    "You still haven''t forgiven yourself?"

    "Don''t know if I ever will."

    There was silence, then Launa reached out her hand.

    "Would you mind? Just for a while."

    Lys sat down next to her, entwining their fingers tightly.

    "However long you need."

    CHAPTER 5

    JOHN

    John hadn''t meant to listen to their conversation -is what he was planning to say if he got caught. Though now, hidden in a corner and with the sound of a slammed door resonating in his aging ears, he really wished he hadn''t. He stayed silent as Launa stormed into the shop. She stopped, looking towards the door leading to the moonlit square, hesitating, but she still veered back inside.

    She wasn''t stupid. She knew she would only attract attention in her state, and attention was the last thing a Drifter needed. John went to check the portal door. It groaned in pain at the cracks in its wood, but nothing which would prevent it from working. He felt Launa pace in the next room.

    "Tea?" He asked, popping his head ahead of his body as he entered.

    Launa stared at him, her expression screaming Do I look like I want tea?.

    "I''ll just make a pot then," he said. "Feel free to take some." It was in no way the hour for a pot of tea, but he grasped any straw he could to diffuse the tension in the room.

    Launa kept pacing, silent as a tomb, her fists clenched so tight it looked painful. It pained John''s heart to see the contrast between the bright smile she had worn as she found the flower and now. She had looked like a small child, holding a seemingly insignificant object. But it had meant the world to her. She had built a massive tower of expectations, and it had all come crumbling down on her.

    "She''s just scared, I''m sure you know that," he said, handing her a cup of tea. "It took her all of two seconds before she asked why you weren''t safely at Headquarters."

    Launa stared at the cup of tea, idly watching the steam float away. "I do know," she said, taking it in her crescent-marked hands. "It''s just-"

    "I know."

    She looked at him, and a small smile broke through.

    "Just give her time. She''ll come around," He said.

    Launa shook her head. "That doesn''t work with a scared Lys," she countered. "I have to go back to the strategy I used to get close to her in the first place."

    John raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

    Launa showed a mischievous smile. "Being an annoying little shit."

    *        *        *

    John and Launa both left for Headquarters the next morning, each for different reasons. Launa left him with a hearty See you later!. Her mood a far cry from the day before. Her smile was full of determination, and John couldn''t help but feel a little sorry for Lys.

    He went up to the Tower of Names, greeting the sentinel and climbing the winding stairs up to Philip''s floor. He didn''t wait for an answer to his knocking before entering.

    "Polite as always." Came a voice from across the office door.

    John smirked as he crossed the sitting room and entered the office. "I am the epitome of good manners. I even sent you an advanced gift yesterday."

    "Well thank you for that, dear Sir, I almost shit my pants when I saw her. Next time you send the most famous person in the country over to me, a memo wouldn''t hurt."

    John shrugged. "She didn''t give me any advance warnings before dropping into my shop. It was only fair."

    Philip grinned, dropping the document he was studying. "Isn''t it exciting? Lys! Here! I want to go over to that stupid Victory Way tower and rub it in our dear General''s face."

    John pictured the scene, and enjoyed every fake second of Brocker''s face souring at the sight. "You and me both."

    The Order leader leaned on his forearms, looking every bit as young and hopeful as he did when he and John first met. The older man''s heart broke in nostalgia of who they both used to be. "How did you get her to you?"

    "Launa kept placing signed flowers on the ruins of Leesha and Mordo''s house. Lys told me an informant of hers picked it up and it led her here."

    Philip frowned, leaning back, and just like that, he returned to the weary-faced leader the newcomers knew him as. "Does that mean someone else is aware of New Sher''s connection to the Order?"

    John shook his head. "She said that he knew nothing about the Order, nor of her connection to it. He''s a native."

    "Still, you''re going to have to be careful."

    "Worry wart as always."If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    The younger man shrugged. "Whatever keeps my people alive."

    "Hey," John said, leaning against the door frame. "Did you know Lys can open doors in the passage?"

    Philip scoffed. "Is this a new theory of yours? I have to admit it''s almost believable."

    John crossed his arms, looking for any way to ground himself as he prepared for the implications of his words. "Philip, she told me herself. Brocker took her from her old world and she opened a door in the passage to escape him."

    The Order leader sat straight, looking directly into his friend''s eyes. "What does that mean?"

    "Hell if I know."

    Philip low whistled. "For you to resort to swearing you must really be distressed."

    "It''s just-" John stood straight, his arms animated as he spoke. "I know why Brocker can, I know why I can at least connect to the passage, but why can she be like him? It makes no sense."

    "I''m guessing she has no idea how either?"

    "Didn''t know what the passage was until yesterday."

    Philip frowned. "So he knew about her before she got here. Is that the reason why? Because of her connection to the passage?"

    "Beats me." John sighed. He sat down on the other side of Philip''s desk, leaning his right side on the flimsy wood. He really wished the leader would keep at least some of the good furniture for himself, instead of giving all of it to the members. "She could see Emella, so she has something"

    Philip''s eyes widened. "Did you tell her who Emella was?"

    John scoffed. "I would need a full day and a chalkboard to explain everything."

    "But we''ll have to tell her. If she learns to access the passage at will it could be a huge advantage for us." Philip''s eyes were calculating, this was the face he made when he was dedicating every ounce of energy in him to the survival of his people. John hated that he barely saw any other look on the younger man''s face.

    "That is true. I could die peacefully knowing you''ll have a replacement." His tone was lighthearted, aiming for a joke.

    He flinched as Philip slammed his hand on his desk. "Don''t say that." He said, his voice cold. "Don''t you ever say that."

    John smiled. "I was joking."

    Philip''s eyes slowly widened back to their original shape, and the tension in his body escaped with every calming breath. "I know, I''m just-"

    "I know." John said. He knew more than anyone the stress weighing on every movement the leader made. How responsibility had consumed him like a cancer, leaving barely a trace of his old friend. "We''ll be fine Philip."

    "You don''t believe that."

    "I don''t, but it still feels nice to say."

    Philip laughed. "So it does."

    There was a knock on the door. A young man emerged from it, his posture almost apologising for his existence. "You''re needed at the Forest Door," he said. John''s heart sank. That sentence was never followed by good news.

    "What happened?" Philip asked, John could feel him clench his fists on the desk.

    The young man looked into their eyes, tears forming in his as he spoke. "We- We found Nart."

    The two men didn''t even look at each other before leaping down the stairs, helped by John''s Dancing. At the center of the woodland cradle, in front of a door opened to fields of blue flowers, was Ulyo. And in his arms, was the limp body of a young man, his face covered. It could only mean one thing.

    Ghosts.

    They never exposed the faces of Ghost victims while on the island. They didn''t want the last memory of their fallen comrades tainted by the distorted blackness. They wanted their last memory to be a smile, a pout, a tear-filled face.

    Anything but what was under the piece of linen.

    Ulyo looked up when they approached, holding Nart closer. He was barely twenty, with wild brown hair and freckles, and he had never looked his age more than when he looked at them with a hurt expression filled with childlike honesty. Ulyo had seen such deaths before, one would think he had gotten used to it.

    But it only hurts more every time.

    "He hadn''t come back from his errand in Compe so- so I went to check." His voice kept shaking even through his efforts to report to his superiors. "There''s four others, just left to rot in the forest. I didn''t recognise any of them. I''ll- I''ll show you the place when I-" He lifted Nart''s body.

    "Go and place him in the mortuary until the funeral." Philip''s voice showed no sign of emotion, but John knew it would come later. "We''ll find the others with you and conduct the funeral once we''ve given them names."

    Ulyo nodded, holding Nart close as he walked out of the forest.

    "Oh, Ulyo!" Philip called out after him. "Stay with Malyt and the others tonight. Don''t be alone. You''re not alone."

    John could see the young man physically restrain himself from crying. He nodded silently, turning back towards Headquarters. The two men watched him silently. Philip was still as a rock, waiting for John''s signal.

    "He''s gone," John said when he couldn''t feel Ulyo in the forest.

    Philip immediately crouched down. His hands on his face. "Fuck!" He shouted. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. He was fourteen John! He was just fourteen! Why-"

    John placed his hand on Philip''s shoulder, and the Order leader leaned his head on it, tears running down his cheeks.

    "Why is it never us?" Philip asked. "Why are we always the ones who survive?"

    John looked through the door. To where a field of blue flowers was swaying in the wind, bodies waiting to be buried. "Because someone needs to."

    It took a good hour for Ulyo to come back. Until he did, John and Philip sat side by side. It reminded the older man of times long gone. When they were three. Huddling in secret. Making plans for a utopia.

    They were only two now, and what they had was far from one, but a haven nonetheless. One they had paid for with blood, dedicated their lives to, and were desperately trying to protect.

    They went to get the other bodies when Ulyo joined them. John carrying most of them with his Dancing. Philip couldn''t recognise any of them, cementing that they weren''t part of the Order. He gave each of them a name, which he wrote on the back of their hands. These would be carved in stone along with Nart''s, waiting in the entrance room until they would eventually join the others on the walls of the tower.

    "Drink?" Philip offered as the two men had climbed back into his office.

    "If you''ve stopped your sleeping pills then yes, otherwise no."

    The younger man frowned. "I swear sometimes you''re more a father than a friend."

    "So, tea then?"

    Philip groaned in surrender, but John knew it was fake. A facade of a normal conversation between two normal friends. Anything to keep them away from the horrors waiting for them outside. Because it never stopped coming for them. And even now, it was knocking at their door.

    Philip allowed entry, and Kirst''s large muscled frame emerged with a blue piece of paper in her hand.

    "Message from Leesha," She said, face grave. "You''re not going to like it."

    "Read it to me," said the leader, sitting down for the news.

    "The army''s arrested a soldier who they believe was in close contact with Lys, just after the ghost raid on Compe. Leesha saw them place him in one of their bunkers in the snowy mountains. They''re going to torture him nice and good. I''ve already talked to Lys about it, and though he knows nothing about the Order, he knows that there''s something in New-Sher."

    Philip frowned. "John, go and close the portal to your shop. You''re staying here for the foreseeable future. Kirst, did Lys say anything else?"

    "She did say she wanted to go and break him out."

    The leader''s eyes widened. "Alone?"

    "Well she''s going to need an Earth Dancer to dig up the entrance to the bunker but otherwise, yes, that seems to be her intention."

    "She can''t just go alone! I won''t-" He stopped before he got too agitated. "Call her up to my office. If she can convince me that she''s capable enough, then I''ll lend her one of our Earth Dancers. If not, then tough luck." His gaze wandered to the carved walls.

    "I''m not going to send my people to die for a soldier."

 Chapter 6

    <i>"Hey, if you somehow visited your parents'' killer in prison, would you kill him?"</i>

    "Oh yeah," Launa answered in a heartbeat. She had had one too many dreams about that exact situation.

    "Even if that meant you were put in prison as well and we couldn''t see each other anymore?"

    Launa smiled, turning on her side to face Lys. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

    Lys shrugged. "Just curious."

    "If I was able to think about it rationally and I could see that the cons outweighed the pros then maybe I wouldn''t. But I don''t know if my brain would work if he was in front of me. When someone hurts you that much, when they''ve made their home in a deep scar inside of you, you lose the ability to use logic when they''re involved. But!" She smiled. "I can count on you now to help if I get too emotional, right?"

    Lys scoffed, sitting up to leave. "Why would I do that?"

    "Come on! We''re friends now!" Launa cried out. "You liiike me!"

    BERYL

    A frost stronger than anything B¨¦ryl had ever felt woke him from his dazed slumber. His languid eyes slowly opened to the cold room which had been his entire world for the past couple days. Heat was a forgone guest inside the bunker, and his only friend was the cloud of vapour escaping his mouth at every breath.

    He started shivering again.

    He was tired of it. He had done nothing but shiver since they brought him here. His mind was muddled. The room spun slowly. Up was down and down was up. His dark feet contrasting with the light floor were so numb, he felt like he was floating. He knew he couldn''t be, but he couldn''t focus on reason. He couldn''t focus on anything, really.  Far from everything.

    Why was he here again?

    He couldn''t remember.

    He was cold.

    So cold.

    So cold.

    He needed warmth.

    "Remember," A distorted voice said. "You really don''t want to use your Fire Dancing right now."

    He remembered, felt it wrapped around his every limb. He remembered a rope. <i>Flam'' Rope</i> they called it. It had a proper name he was sure, but he couldn''t place it. This rope was more than flammable. It was riddled with powder which would explode at any contact with heat and create a gigantic, hungry white flame. If he ever used his fire by mistake to warm himself up, there would be nothing of him left. Only a memory of a body, and the heat a white flame.

    <i>Pretty</i>. He thought.

    Freezing water was thrown on him again. This time, he was awake enough to feel the salt seep into his wounds from yesterday''s interrogation. Still, he found comfort in the burn. In feeling anything other than the constant chill.

    "You lied to us," The voice said. "She wasn''t at the spot you spoke about."

    Who were they talking about? She? Spot?

    Ah.

    <i>Lys</i>.

    <i>You fucking liar.</i>

    He knew she wouldn''t be there. Or maybe she somehow spotted the soldiers. Though they would have sent Ghosts to deal with her. Ah, Ghosts.

    <i>Fucking Ghosts.</i>

    "I c''n''t he''p yo'' th''n," he said, his words slurring. He managed to lift his head to look at the man in front of him. He was a stark contrast to the white and cold room. His burgundy wool robe ate him from his jaw to the floor, pooling behind him. A fancy sweeper. He was bald, and one of those paler people who''s face never stopped shining red

    <i>A floating tomato</i>. He thought.

    He chuckled.

    "You think this is funny Cadet Josp?"

    "No shir," he slurred. "Ma'' I p''ease he''d hom'' ''ow?"

    "Not until you tell us all you know about Lys."

    B¨¦ryl racked his brain, trying to remember the events of the day prior. "I a''read'' di'', shir. I thi''k."

    "Well think again. Otherwise, I''m going to have to bring in a friend."

    "A fshriend?" For some reason he found it funny. Friends were funny. Tomatoes having friends. The daily life of a tomato. Tomato and friends. "I''m c''ld."

    "And you''ll die from it if you don''t tell me what I want to know."

    "I d''n''t k''oow." He let his head go down. It was too much effort to hold it up. He didn''t want to do anything. Just sleep.

    There was silence.

    The silence was nice.

    Talking made him think too much. He didn''t want to think. Thinking was hard.

    He was cold.

    He wanted to go home.

    He wanted to sleep.

    Someone yanked his head up, someone who wasn''t the tomato. They had hair. Bright hair. They were holding a watering can. <i>Hey, that''s for plants.</i> He thought. <i>Do I have any plants?</i>

    Before he could think of his imaginary plants, water was ran straight into his throat. He tried to close it, but the water was determined, punching its way down his oesophagus and trachea.

    It was painful.

    So painful.

    The water moved as if it were alive inside of him. It spiked, grating and cutting every bit of flesh it came in contact with. It whirled in his stomach, punching it up and down. It assaulted his lungs, punching and scratching, filling every inch. The water was filled with salt, and every scratch burned like blue fire.

    He couldn''t breathe.

    He was drowning.

    Pain.

    He couldn''t breathe.

    He was drowning.

    Pain.

    In an instant, all the water left, as painful in its exit as in its entry. B¨¦ryl couldn''t focus on anything other than the sea of blood and bile he coughed up, most landing on his bare knees. He coughed like his life depended on it, he was sure it did. There seemed to be no end to the blood in his throat. He felt it slither out of his mouth, down his neck and chest.

    "Awake now?" Tomato said.

    B¨¦ryl nodded, unable to feel the tears streaming down his cheeks.

    "Now, I trust you''ll want to talk more."

    The Private''s tears increased. "I r''lly d''n''t kno''. S''e le''t ''fter I ga''e h''r a fl''wer."

    "What kind of flower?"

    "Why?"

    Tomato frowned, and his ''friend'' with the can came closer. B¨¦ryl was fully awake now.

    "No- No stop! I''m s''rry! I-"

    The water barrelled down his throat again, this time thick with his own mucus and stomach fluid. It burnt everywhere it went. It punched everywhere it went. It scratched everywhere it went. The salt burned. He was drowning.

    Again, and again, and again.

    The water left.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    B¨¦ryl''s knees and feet were soaked with his own blood.

    "What kind of flower?"

    "Whit'' and-" cough. "yell''w, like a" His mind was in shambles. He knew it had a name. A name.

    Name.

    Name.

    "A Narcissus."

    "You fucking idiot," Tomato said.

    He beckoned his ''friend'' again.

    "NO! STOP! PLEASE!" B¨¦ryl screamed at them to stop, but was no match for the water invading his body, all while the watering can filled his vision. The pain was too intense for him to close his eyes, so he could do nothing but stare at the dark wood of his torturer.

    Why was this happening?

    What had he done?

    The pain filled him, becoming its own entity inside of him. It seemed like it would never stop. It spread everywhere, to his feet, to his heart, to his mind. He just wanted it to stop.

    Stop.

    Please.

    Please.

    Stop.

    The pain laughed at him.

    Please.

    He would give everything.

    All he wanted-

    All he wanted was just-

    "Why-" He cried out as the water left. His head hung low and his tears joined the blood in his mouth.

    "Because your stupidity is too potent for this world. Do you even know what the Narcissus represents?"

    B¨¦ryl didn''t care. All his energy was being spent on his tears. Small streaks on his cheeks which were much colder than they should be. Even with his mind muddled he knew he was beginning to get severe hypothermia. He would die soon if they didn''t let him out, yet they were hung up on a stupid flower.

    "Le'' m'' go ho''e," he pleaded. "I''m goi'' to di''."

    Tomato grabbed his thick hair with an iron fist. It should have hurt, but his scalp was long numb.

    "It''s the Order of Narcissus you useless waste of space. Where Drifters congregate and help each other invade our world. Henalda''s most potent enemy."

    "So? Why... Lys?"

    Tomato stayed silent.

    Then he laughed.

    It filled the cold and empty room. Attacked B¨¦ryl''s ears. It became his world for the few minutes it lasted.

    The laugh of a Tomato.

    "Do you really not know? She''s one of them. She''s a Drifter."

    B¨¦ryl tried to process his words.

    They were stupid.

    Who was the stupid one here? Drifters were monsters.

    Lys was human.

    He''d seen her bleed. He''d seen her laugh.

    Monsters don''t do that.

    See. Even he knew the difference.

    He was better than a Tomato.

    He chuckled. "Yo''''re st''pid," he said. "Stuuuu''id." He started laughing more. Where he got enough energy to, he didn''t know. But it was too funny. He quickly stopped, his throat burning from the assault. "Stu''id." He whispered.

    His head was yanked back, and he met the watering can once more.

    A pebble was thrown at him.

    Another one.

    Another one.

    <i>I just want to sleep</i>. He thought. <i>Let me sleep.</i>

    Another.

    He opened his eyes.

    "Oh good. You''re alive. I was just checking."

    He looked up to find who was talking. It was hard to move. Why was it so hard to move?

    He was in an alley. One of those background alleys in Rasphira abandoned by the moons'' light, denying the sod stone of its sparkle. Talking to him was a woman? A girl? With a blindfold. Sitting on a roof as if it were her property.

    "I saw that. I would say that the one who stabbed you was in the wrong, but why were you carrying such an obviously large amount of money in this part of town?"

    Oh. Right.

    He was stabbed by a Water Dancer.

    He''d heard some were able to create water blades by spinning the water at an incredible speed. But it wasn''t taught in military training. He wondered what other surprises he would find that weren''t taught in his program.

    "I didn''t think anyone would attack a soldier." He groaned.

    The woman laughed. "Talk about being naive. I''ve barely been here for a year and I know better."

    "Ha ha." He winced as he tried to straighten himself up. "Are you going to keep staring at me?" Although staring wasn''t the right word since she was wearing a blindfold.

    It was unsettling.

    Usually, people with blindfolds were being forced into submission, robbed of one of the most used senses. But, somehow, it made her seem powerful. As if seeing was meant for lesser beings. Beings who could only look up at her in wonder.

    "Where are you stationed?" She asked.

    "Why do you care?"

    "I''m the only thing sitting between you and a clean bandage but sure, be defensive." She shrugged.

    He groaned.

    "Eastern Garrison, starting next week."

    She perked up. "The one on Lake Seir? With the large intelligence division?"

    B¨¦ryl frowned. She knew an awful lot for a street rat. "What''s it to you?"

    She jumped. The soldier almost panicked as she did, but she didn''t fall with the bone-breaking crunch he had expected. She fell as if on a cloud. Floating for a few seconds before gracefully letting her feet touch the black stone.

    She was an Air Dancer.

    An Air Dancer.

    He had never seen one in his life. No one around him had ever seen an Air Dancer. No one trained him to fight them. How could you fight air? Could she just suffocate him at any time?

    This was bad.

    Really bad.

    "Relax," she said, crouching before him. "I''m not going to hurt you. Move your arm."

    B¨¦ryl didn''t like this one bit. He started to wonder if she was a bad illusion caused by blood loss. But when she groaned and moved his arm herself, he knew she had to be real. He felt cold air enter his wound, and she winced.

    "That''s pretty deep," she said. Was that how she ''saw''? With air?

    He felt himself being lifted up, and started to panic. She shushed him as she would a child.

    "Don''t move, you''ll make it worse."

    He was lying on air, yet he felt strangely secure. She took off his red uniform, being careful around the wound. He heard a loud rip, and next thing he knew, he was being bandaged up with a strip of her cloak.

    "Is that okay?" He asked.

    She shrugged. "I go through a lot of these."

    She lifted him back down against the wall, right next to the spot stained with his own blood. She told him to wait there.

    "You''re just leaving me?"

    "Do I look like I have any medicine on me? Just stay put."

    <i>Not like I have a choice</i>. He thought. He watched the black sky above. He should''ve been in a nice warm bed by now, after having started packing for his new position in the Garrison. What was he to tell his superiors when they would say he missed roll call? That he was stabbed and saved by an Air Dancer?

    Demotion it was then.

    The Air Dancer came back, carrying a short man on her back. He seemed to be as displeased to see B¨¦ryl as B¨¦ryl was to see him. He really didn''t want to involve himself with the underground world of the capital. The man, he called himself Hyx, inspected his wound and took out a small black box from his bag. He frowned at it, then turned to the woman.

    "This is expensive," He said.

    "I know," She answered.

    "I hope you''re prepared to work your butt off for the next month to make up for this."

    She smiled. "Anything you say, oh dear leader."

    He chuckled as he tossed the box to her. "Go on then. I''ll be back to my work. I don''t want to be involved in whatever you''re doing here. I''ll see you at dinner. If you stay out past sunrise there''ll be no more dessert left for you."

    "Thanks Hyx. I''ll keep that in mind."

    Hyx stood up to leave, glaring at B¨¦ryl as he did. A protective glare. One that screamed <i>don''t touch her</i>. As if she was the weak one in this situation.

    "Your dad?" He asked as Hyx was out of earshot.

    She smiled, crouching to apply the ointment to his wound. It stung like nothing he had ever experienced, but he kept a straight face, unwilling to show weakness. "Might as well be," She answered.

    "We have to keep out for each other in this city. There are tons of found families here and there. The moment you mess with one is when you die."

    B¨¦ryl gulped. "So, how come I''m not dead? What do you want from me?"

    "Information," she said, focused on the ointment. Her hands were delicate, gentle, almost comforting, a stark contrast to her unsettling half-covered face. "I want information on a prisoner and on a woman the army is surely trying to find."

    "Well, that doesn''t seem dangerous for me at all."

    Her hands stopped. "You know, I could just kick you and leave and you won''t make it to see the sunrise."

    He chuckled nervously. "I said dangerous, not impossible."

    She smiled. Her hands moving once more "Good."

    "I''ll need names. Yours and the ones you''re looking for."

    "You''ll need to wait for mine," she said. "But I can give you the others. Mordo and Leesha Houj. They lived in New-Sher and-"

    B¨¦ryl grabbed her wrist. He knew he was squeezing too hard as she winced, but he couldn''t stop. His mind had come to a standstill. The name spun around his tired mind. Teasing him. Projecting him back to the worst day of his life.

    "How do you know Leesha Houj?" He said, almost out of breath.

    She cocked her head. "How do <i>you </i>know Leesha?"

    "I want her dead." The words felt so nice to say out loud. As a soldier, he had sworn to protect the people, dedicating his life to Henalda. But there was one thing he wanted more than anything, and that was to burn Leesha Houj''s face off until nothing but charred meat remained.

    "Well, I want her <i>alive</i>, so that might be a problem," the woman said.

    "What do you know about her?" His heartbeat rose. He got dizzy. He shouldn''t get excited in his predicament, but this woman might get him closer than he had ever gotten. Closer to the one thing which had driven his life for so long.

    "How about this," she started, sitting back. She almost melted into the black of the alley, but to B¨¦ryl, she was a beacon of hope in a long night. "You join the Eastern Garrison like you''re supposed to, you bring me information on where her husband is held, and I may be able to share some info. But then you have to share all information about Leesha that you come across as well. No secrets."

    This was an awful deal. He knew it. A five-year-old would know it. They had different goals. She would go behind his back. One-up him. Cut ahead.

    But he didn''t have much choice. She was the closest thing he had to a clue.

    "Give me your name and we have a deal," he said. "I don''t trust people who won''t even give me their names."

    She smirked. "Fine. It''s Lys."

    B¨¦ryl frowned. "Very funny. No. Seriously. What''s your name?"

    *        *        *

    A wave of cold gripped him once more. Freezing, every drop attacking his skin. He looked up to see Tomato, a self-serving smirk on his face.

    "Can''t have you dying on us just yet. You need to stay awake, Cadet."

    "Why?" He couldn''t take it anymore. Everything was spinning. There seemed to be three Tomatoes in front of him. They were wearing blindfolds. Like Lys''s that night. The night in which he made a deal which never came to fruition. Sure, he was up for a promotion soon because of her contributions, but he had gotten nowhere with Leesha.

    Nowhere.

    She always avoided army detection. The only clues of her whereabouts were found days after she had already left. The intelligence division was less hunter and more dog chasing after its owner. Lys was his only chance to get relevant info, and as soon as she had found something, she had run off.

    Now he was going to die here.

    For nothing.

    <i>You stupid naive clown.</i>

    "You still haven''t told us where you found the Narcissus."

    Questions again? Questions were annoying. He had no strength left to care. "New-Sher. In the r''ins of M''rdo and ''eesha Hou''''s hou''e."

    "And why were you there?"

    Annoying.

    " ''ooking fo'' Lees''a."

    There was a laugh.

    "Is this why you worked with Lys? To find the woman who killed your family? You betrayed the General for some little revenge plot?"

    Every word he said was annoying.

    "Jus'' lemme ''o." His words were mixing into each other. His voice shaking from tears.

    Everything started to go black.

    He was going to die.

    He was going to die.

    He was going to die.

    " ''emme ''o."

    "You think we''ll let you go when you''ve just admitted to grand treason?" He pushed his face closer. All B¨¦ryl could see in his blackened vision was red. "No. You''re going to stay here, alone, basking in regret until your heart stops." He stepped back, but B¨¦ryl had no strength left in his eyes to follow him up. His gaze now stuck on a crack in the cold floor.

    The last thing he would see.

    "Maybe in your next life you''ll be born with a bit more of a brain. I hope it serves you-"

    He stopped. Why did he stop? There was noise. A lot of noise outside. Doors being slammed open. He wished they would shut up. It was too loud. They came closer.

    Then closer again.

    Again.

    He heard the door of the room to his right opening. Then footsteps. Before he knew, his own door was being slammed open, a gust of warm wind filling the room.

    Ah, he was hallucinating again.

    Lys was here.