《AN OATH BROKEN》


 CHAPTER 1 – A BEAUTIFUL BUT DANGEROUS CITY

    PART 1


    Just in time, I turned my head and watched as a stranger slipped his hand into another man¡¯s coat pocket, his fingers curling around something too small to see. The streets were crowded, and it was barely past nine in the morning, but that never stopped thieves. If anything, it encouraged them. Still, no one else seemed to notice, or perhaps they pretended not to. So, I did the same.


    Aurora was a beautiful city with its stone streets, colorful brick houses, and fruit trees. But it was also dangerous. Robberies and murders were so frequent they barely made the newspapers anymore. People had stopped fearing them. They had started expecting them. Monsters lurked in Aurora, the kind that didn¡¯t confine themselves to the moonlight. They owned every hour of the day.


    My eyes lingered on the thief¡¯s face for a moment longer, just another one in a hundred. As he scurried away, slipping between carriages and horses moving through the cobbled streets, it was clear this was just another job for him. If I had spoken up, someone might have stopped him.


    Probably.


    Instead, I checked my own coat pockets and stepped closer to my parents, careful to avoid brushing against the people around me. It wasn¡¯t that I didn¡¯t care. I just didn¡¯t want to get hurt. Getting involved was dangerous. I knew that well.


    Justice didn¡¯t exist in Aurora. Criminals came and went as they pleased. The city had a prison, but no one stayed there for long, no matter the crime¡ªif they ever stepped inside it at all.


    ¡°Maybe next time¡­¡± My father, Maxen, was talking to my mother about something. Usually, I paid attention and joined in, but today I remained silent, lost in thought.


    We were heading toward the street market, weaving through flower sellers, women in wool skirts, and men in thick coats and tall hats. All I wanted was to run away¡ªto leave everything behind. Everyone except my family. I would take them with me somewhere safer, somewhere better.


    That was the dream, and I would do anything to make it happen.


    I thought about it so often that sometimes there seemed to be no room for anything else inside my head. A world without uncertainty. A world where I could be whatever I desired. A world without fear. That¡¯s what I wanted.


    My hand drifted to my silver pendant, my fingers tracing its familiar shape. Before I could lose myself in another daydream, my father nudged my coat sleeve.


    ¡°Who¡¯s hungry?¡± he asked brightly, snapping me back to reality. We were only a block away from the market now.


    I smiled. ¡°I could eat breakfast and lunch all at once. I¡¯m starving.¡±


    ¡°Clover please, don¡¯t exaggerate,¡± my mother, Lyra, scolded. ¡°And please don¡¯t talk so loudly. People might think it¡¯s true. You know we have plenty.¡±


    I bit back a retort. No one was paying us any attention. They were all too busy socializing and soaking in the sunlight. It wasn¡¯t worth getting mad over.


    The city center¡¯s streets were wide enough for carriages to pass comfortably, their dark grey cobblestones smooth as river stones. The sidewalks were spacious too, except where the roots of old trees had begun to lift and crack them apart. Those trees lined every street, their flowers and fruits filling the air with a sweet, citrus scent. Sometimes, I plucked a fruit or two as I walked.


    I also liked watching the carriages, admiring their sleek designs and the way their decorations glinted in the sun. I imagined what it would feel like to travel in one, surrounded by elegance.


    ¡°We¡¯re so close, I can almost smell it,¡± my father said, pulling me closer. He was one of the few people whose proximity I didn¡¯t mind. He always made me feel safe.


    ¡°Good,¡± I whispered to him. ¡°Because I¡¯m truly starving.¡±


    My mother had an awful habit of making us fast for twenty-four hours before Sunday mass at the White Cathedral. Not even water was allowed. She believed that going hungry would make us more grateful for what we had and that our prayers would be more sincere. That in some way, it would make us better.


    I had yet to understand how.


    Now that mass was over, all I wanted was food. But I kept quiet, knowing she¡¯d scold me again if I complained.


    Instead, I focused on my surroundings. I loved walking the streets near the cathedral, taking in every detail. The buildings in the downtown district were painted white, their thick coats of shimmering paint matching the cathedral itself. The only other colors came from the trees, their fruits, and the countless flower pots decorating windows, balconies, and storefronts.


    White was almost worshiped in Aurora¡ªin all of Ancora, really. It symbolized purity and divinity. Many people painted their homes and doors with it, even the sidewalks if they could afford it. White paint was considered special, and therefore, expensive.


    ¡°Objective in sight,¡± my father announced with a grin, his wrinkles deepening. The market was just across the street now.


    Once the carriages cleared the avenue, we crossed toward the weekly market on Bluebell Street. A hundred merchants had set up their booths along the sidewalks, leaving barely any space to walk. We had to move through the carriageway instead, pressed shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the crowd. Personal space was impossible to come by.


    Immediately, sellers began calling out to us, waving their wares. Some offered lace umbrellas, others skin creams that could supposedly erase scars overnight. Fabrics, toys, sculptures¡ªbright colors filled the market, vibrant and chaotic. If white symbolized divinity, then every other color represented joy.


    My parents and I ignored most of the vendors, heading straight for the food section fifty meters ahead. We couldn¡¯t afford luxuries. Even if we wanted to, every coin we had was already spoken for.


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    Still, a few small glass jars caught my eye. They were wrapped in white lace, their lids hand-painted with pink roses. Skin-whitening creams. Beautiful, but not worth their price¡ªmore than my entire outfit combined.


    We weren¡¯t poor, not exactly, but every bit of money went toward survival. Leaving Aurora was a dream, but it was impossible. A single train ticket to the nearest city cost more than a week¡¯s worth of food.


    We were trapped.


    But not for long.


    I had a plan. A foolish, desperate plan. But I prayed to God and the stars that it would be our way out. Because if we stayed here much longer, something terrible would happen. Aurora promised as much. I¡¯d seen enough bloodstained sheets covering lifeless bodies to know how easily a life could be taken.


    I¡¯d imagined my parents like that¡ªlying still in the streets, never coming home. The thought haunted me every time they were late.


    I wouldn¡¯t wait for it to come true.


    We would escape. We had to. I would do whatever it took to make it happen.


    And as the scent of roasted meat filled the air, awakening my senses, I started paying more attention to my surroundings.


    The food section was draped in vibrant fabrics, hung high between the surrounding brick buildings in an attempt to shield diners from the sun. Still, sunlight filtered through, casting shifting patterns of soft, colorful light over everyone below. It felt like sitting beneath a vast, stained-glass ceiling¡ªa cloudy kaleidoscope that narrowed the streets, deepened the shadows, yet created a soothing ambiance that I really enjoyed.


    More than forty booths and tables, covered in vivid tablecloths, lined both sidewalks. Unlike the other market stalls, each food booth had its own braziers and towering clay or metal pots to keep meals warm, filling the air with a mouthwatering blend of sizzling meat, roasted corn, butter, and rich spices. Most stalls had only one table, which meant we often had to share. It wasn¡¯t something that bothered me too much, but I preferred when it was just us.


    My stomach growled, an annoying reminder of my hunger. I tried to distract myself, letting my thoughts drift back to my plan¡ªmy escape from Aurora. It was the only thing that made my days bearable.


    Part of me knew it was foolish, the idea of learning to steal. But if I mastered it, if I could navigate the shadows like the city''s most skilled thieves, maybe I could finally take my parents somewhere far from Aurora. Sometimes, in the quiet of my thoughts, I wondered what it would be like to steal a star¡ªa real one. The idea was absurd, beyond heresy. A single star was worth more than I could fathom, probably more than a hundred thousand silvers. Enough to change our lives forever. But even if I dared, it wasn¡¯t worth the risk.


    After lingering in my thoughts a little longer, we finally reached Orlan¡¯s booth¡ªthe place where we always ate. But, as expected, the table was already full.


    ¡°I told you we¡¯d be late,¡± my mother said, shooting my father a pointed look. She was the only one who truly hated eating while standing, though she did it anyway when necessary. Finding an empty seat at Orlan¡¯s¡ªor anywhere in the market¡ªwas rare. Here, it was common to juggle a plate in one hand, a fork in the other, and a mug of coffee precariously balanced in whatever free space you could find.


    ¡°Fine, we¡¯ll wait until some chairs open up,¡± my father said with a grin that meant, Don¡¯t be mad, darling. I gave him a look of my own.


    ¡°I¡¯m really hungry. Can¡¯t we just eat standing this one time?¡± I asked, trying to keep the frustration from my voice. My stomach tightened painfully, and I pressed a hand against it.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you can wait a few more minutes. The food isn¡¯t going anywhere,¡± my mother replied.


    No, it wasn¡¯t going anywhere¡ªit was worse. It was right in front of me, tempting me with its rich, tantalizing aroma, while I couldn¡¯t eat. Not yet.


    I huffed and turned away. There was no arguing with my mother. My father would take her side, as he always did.


    ¡°In the meantime, you can think about what you want to order,¡± my father offered, his voice laced with an unspoken apology.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± I muttered.


    I already knew what I wanted. Red bread.


    Boiled corn dough stuffed with spiced red meat, shaped into small squares or triangles, and served with a thick layer of fiery tomato sauce. Just thinking about it made my mouth water. My stomach let out another loud growl, earning me a sharp look from my mother.


    ¡°I can¡¯t control it,¡± I said in a low voice, then added playfully, ¡°If I could eat right now, it would fix the problem.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not funny, Clover,¡± she scolded, before turning to talk to my father, who was already chatting with Orlan and the others at the table.


    Whether I liked it or not, I was more my mother¡¯s daughter than my father¡¯s.


    I had my father¡¯s dark brown eyes¡ªhis longing for freedom. But my mother¡¯s light brown skin, her straight black hair, her stubbornness, and her need to prove herself? Those were all mine. More than I cared to admit.


    The scents of sizzling food and fresh spices swirled around me, making my head light with hunger. With nothing else to do, I let my gaze wander over the passing crowd. People dressed in long dresses and worn dark trousers moved past, their voices threading through the air like a melody. I wondered if they carried the same fears I did. If they feared Aurora the way I did. Or if some of them were the monsters lurking in its shadows.


    Their conversations spilled into the open air¡ªplans for the day, gossip about family, musings on what they¡¯d buy from the market. They seemed busy, carefree. But no one ever truly knew what hid behind another person¡¯s smile.


    I sighed, rubbing my temples. I always overthought everything. It didn¡¯t matter how many times I told myself to stop¡ªit was a habit too deeply ingrained.


    A few minutes passed. I was about to make another plea to eat standing when a familiar figure moved through the crowd.


    Emilia.


    As she walked past, all eyes followed her. The market shifted around her, conversations stuttering, people pausing mid-bite.


    I tried to wave, but the crowd was too dense. A quick glance at Orlan¡¯s table told me we weren¡¯t getting seats anytime soon.


    ¡°I saw Emilia. I just want to say hi,¡± I told my mother. Then, before she could object, I slipped away.


    ¡°Tell her I say hi too,¡± my father called after me. I heard him murmuring something to my mother as I wove through the river of people.


    Emilia and I had only been friends for a few months, but I felt protective of her. Wherever she went, people found ways to make her life harder. Even I had disliked her at first, but once I got to know her, I realized she was kind.


    The funny thing was, I hadn¡¯t even wanted to befriend her. At first, I had only spoken to her because I needed to get close to someone in her family. That was all. And yet, she had become one of the truest friends I¡¯d ever had.


    The crowd thickened, slowing my steps, but I caught sight of her turning into a narrow side street. My stomach twisted. Where was she going?


    When I finally reached the alley¡¯s entrance, I spotted her walking beside a tall, old man with messy gray hair. Had he been waiting for her?


    He wore a blue coat with a thin white circle on the back. A doctor.


    That should have reassured me, but something about the scene felt wrong.


    The alley was empty. Too empty. A ripple of unease crawled up my spine. I glanced back at the bustling market, where safety lay just a few steps away. If anything happened, all I had to do was scream. Someone would hear.


    It¡¯s all in your head. Everything is fine.


    And yet, I hesitated. Why was Emilia following an old man into a dark street?


    At the other end of the alley, the man gestured animatedly as he spoke, his arms rising and falling. Then, in one swift motion, he pulled something from his pocket¡ªa black cloth. Before Emilia could react, he pressed it against her nose and mouth.


    She struggled, kicking, clawing, trying to break free. But he was too strong.


    I didn¡¯t think. I ran.


    I had no plan, no weapon, no advantage. Before I could even scream for help, something sharp pierced the back of my neck.


    My legs gave out. My body crumpled to the ground.


    I watched, powerless, as two men dragged Emilia toward a closed carriage. My mind screamed, my body refused to obey. My heart barely beat.


    I prayed for the strength to move, to shout, to do something.


    But my voice was gone.


    And then, the world faded to black.

 CHAPTER 2 – A NEW REALITY

    For a moment, I didn¡¯t belong anywhere. I felt neither fear, nor joy, nor anger. But then reality forced its way through, and I awoke to a forest soaked in the cold air of winter.


    I was lying on my back, surrounded by hundreds of trees. They stretched high above me until their branches blended with the pale morning sky. I tried to move, and a few patches of grass brushed against my face. They were green and red, smelling faintly of tree sap and iron.


    My clothes were wet, and I was freezing. Every muscle in my body shivered uncontrollably. My heart pounded fiercely, as if it were trying to remind me of something, and I wanted to ask it why everything felt so wrong, to understand. Instead, my head began to throb, and I could taste blood.


    No matter how hard I tried, I couldn¡¯t remember anything¡ªnot where I was from, or even my name. All I felt was an overwhelming sense of urgency, though I couldn¡¯t comprehend why.


    Tiny droplets of water fell from the tree leaves and landed on my face. I closed my eyes and licked the moisture from my lips; it tasted like dirt and rain.


    My heart kept racing, and soon my head followed. Slowly, a few memories emerged from the fog in my mind. I remembered the pain at the back of my neck and the ensuing darkness. Then reality struck me like thunder.


    I opened my eyes again and tried to stand, but my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the wet, slippery grass. If I couldn¡¯t stand, the idea of walking seemed ridiculous. Still, I tried anyway, only to fall once more.


    Breathing had been easy until that moment, but now my mind was consumed with panic, and I could barely inhale enough air to keep from fainting. I dragged my body through the mud and grass until my back rested against a tree. That¡¯s when I noticed my clothes were different. I was wearing a sleeveless, dark gray dress, similar to a nightgown, that barely covered half of my legs. Wet leaves and moss clung to my skin, and something small crawled over my bare toes.Where am I?


    What happened?


    I tried to stand again but failed and decided instead to calm myself down. Don¡¯t be scared, I thought. Breathe and try to think. Don¡¯t panic.


    But then I saw movement a few meters ahead of me, and my heart began to pound harder, every beat hammering mercilessly in my head.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you could do that,¡± said a blond boy in a white shirt and dark trousers. He looked so clean and nonchalant that, for a moment, I thought I was dreaming. Then I watched him drag his index finger from his left eye to his cheek. I copied his motion and realized I was crying. I hadn¡¯t even noticed.


    ¡°Seriously, what is that even for?¡± he asked, hiding his hands behind his back. The gesture might have seemed harmless, but I didn¡¯t know what he could be hiding.


    I wanted to cover myself with anything I could find, but fear kept me frozen. I didn¡¯t know where I was or why I was here. For all I knew, he could be one of the people who drugged me back at the market. Why else would both of us be in the middle of nowhere?


    Everything is fine, don¡¯t be scared, I tried to convince myself, but the taste of blood lingered, and pain shot through various parts of my body. Deep red drops stained the grass, and my head throbbed. I couldn¡¯t even remember how it had happened. Every muscle in my body urged me to get away, but I remained paralyzed.


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    ¡°Do you even fear death?¡± he asked in a cold, icy voice, and my entire body tensed. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to answer me?¡± He stepped closer, and I noticed his deep blue eyes, bright even in the dim morning light. I wondered if those eyes would be the last thing I¡¯d ever see.


    He took another step closer, and I scrambled to my feet, my legs shaking under my weight.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± I asked, my voice weak and trembling. I cursed myself for sounding so fragile.


    ¡°I¡¯m just here to do my job,¡± he shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m here to kill a demon.¡± His eyes traveled up and down my body in such an invasive way that it felt like a physical touch. I pressed harder against the tree, wishing it could somehow protect me. He was so close now that I could smell him¡ªa nauseating mixture of soap and blood.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m not a demon,¡± I said, trying¡ªand failing¡ªnot to sound scared. My thoughts were muddled, and I struggled to speak. Something was definitely very wrong with me.¡°Well,¡± he said mockingly, ¡°I don¡¯t need you to confess. I already know what you are.¡± He shot me a smile that made my stomach churn. Was he out of his mind? I was starting to think so.


    ¡°You¡¯re mistaken,¡± I spat. ¡°So leave me alone!¡± I yelled, but he only smirked. My knees were barely holding me up, but I refused to sit back down, no matter how badly I needed to. I was ready to run the moment I had a chance, even if my shaky legs couldn¡¯t carry me far.


    ¡°They always tell me I shouldn¡¯t talk to your kind, but I¡¯m intrigued. I can¡¯t help it. I want to know before we continue,¡± he said. I tried hard to clear my mind and calm down, but my senses were dulled, and I still couldn¡¯t think straight. I had to have been drugged. But with what? And how long would it take to wear off? I prayed it would happen soon.


    ¡°I know you feel pain¡ªI¡¯m well aware of that¡ªbut how did you learn to cry? You have no soul, so where does that come from?¡± he asked.


    I gaped at him, unable to find words. He sounded more unhinged with every passing second, and I had no idea how to handle him¡ªhow to handle any of this.


    After what felt like the longest moment, I inhaled deeply and forced myself to speak. ¡°I already told you. You¡¯ve mistaken me for someone else. I¡¯m not what you think I am.¡± My voice was pleading, my arms pressed behind me, fingers gripping the rough bark of the tree. But his expression didn¡¯t change. His eyes were vacant, devoid of anything I could understand.


    Then, something¡ªor someone¡ªmade a noise behind him, and he turned his head.


    I barely had time to act before his hands were around my throat. I never saw him move, never felt the air shift from his approach¡ªhe moved like a ghost.


    I clawed at his hands, trying to pry his fingers open, but his grip was unyielding. He wasn¡¯t just trying to choke me¡ªthe pressure was too much for that. He was trying to break my neck.


    A wave of helplessness and rage flooded through me. I kicked at his legs, scratched at his arms and face, but he didn¡¯t let go. He only smiled.


    Pain pulsed through my head. My lungs screamed for air. My vision blurred, darkness creeping in at the edges.


    This isn¡¯t happening.


    I can¡¯t leave my parents alone.


    All I could think about was how unfair it all was.


    Then¡ªhis grip loosened. His expression shifted from amusement to surprise, and in the next moment, we both collapsed to the ground. I didn¡¯t care what had happened¡ªI only knew I had to get away. Gasping, I dragged myself backward, desperate to put distance between us. That¡¯s when I saw the blood. A great amount of it, pouring from his back.


    Someone had just attacked him.

 CHAPTER 3 – ANGELS, DEMONS, AND LIES

    Tears streamed down my face as I fought to stand, to run¡ªonly to stop at the sight of someone else.


    A girl.


    She had short blonde hair and wore trousers and a shirt¡ªan unusual outfit for a girl. I stared at her, torn between begging for help or mercy, but my throat was too raw. I couldn¡¯t even breathe properly, let alone speak. All I managed was a broken cough.


    Just run.


    But my body betrayed me. I staggered only a few paces before gripping a low branch to keep from collapsing.


    Through the haze, I saw the girl kneel beside the boy¡ªthe one who had tried to kill me. She placed her hands on either side of his head and, with a swift motion, broke his neck.


    The sound sent a violent tremor through me. Instinctively, I shut my eyes, though the image had already seared itself into my mind.


    The world became emptier. Quieter.


    I had seen many dead bodies in my life, but I had never watched someone die before. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, intensifying the coughs racking my body. I forced myself to stay conscious. If I fainted now, I didn¡¯t know if I would wake up again.


    The girl was staring at me now.


    I prayed she would let me go.


    ¡°It seems you¡¯re very lucky,¡± she murmured, casting a glance at the boy she had just killed before returning her gaze to me.


    Since she made no move to approach, I dared to look at her properly.


    She was barefoot, her feet caked in dirt, yet the rest of her appeared oddly clean¡ªjust like the boy had been. She looked young, maybe only a couple of years older than me. Her skin was pale¡ªnot as much as Emilia¡¯s, but enough to suggest she wasn¡¯t from Aurora.


    She tucked a stray strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear, though it quickly fell back into her face. Unlike most girls, her hair wasn¡¯t tied in a braid, bun, or any kind of updo. Instead, it hung loosely above her shoulders. My mother would have called that ¡®poor self-care.¡¯


    I swallowed, my throat thick and dry. Speaking felt impossible, but I tried anyway, since my coughing had finally eased.


    ¡°What is happening? Where am I?¡± My voice came out hoarse.


    I took stock of my body, searching for injuries. My arms were unscathed¡ªno blood seeped through the flimsy gown I wore (one I had no memory of acquiring). But my head throbbed, and dizziness weighed on my limbs. When I touched my temple, my fingers came away wet and warm.


    A head wound.


    And barely any strength left.


    ¡°We¡¯re in the Blue Forest,¡± the girl answered calmly, her dark eyes fixed on me. Her voice was rough, as if she were recovering from an illness.


    ¡°Where in the Blue Forest?¡± I asked, struggling to sound less desperate than I felt. My hand gripped the tree beside me for support.


    ¡°Near the gold bell by the Sun River. That way.¡± She gestured behind her.


    I looked past her, scanning the trees and thick underbrush. No distinct path.


    If she was telling the truth, I was about three hours from Aurora.


    Would she help me if I asked?


    I didn¡¯t dare voice the question. Not yet. She had just murdered someone, and she was disturbingly calm about it.


    ¡°Do you know how I got here?¡± I asked, suppressing another cough.


    She didn¡¯t answer. She only watched me.


    Something about her gaze unsettled me¡ªcold and curious all at once. I instinctively reached for my pendant.


    It was gone.


    Panic surged through me, my stomach twisting. I prayed to the stars, to God, for everything to be okay. An old habit I had never truly shaken.


    ¡°Thank you for helping me,¡± I said, my voice carefully measured. She was unpredictable, and I didn¡¯t want to provoke her.


    ¡°I would be dead if not for you. But if you know why I¡¯m here, I¡¯d appreciate it if you told me.¡± I exhaled slowly. It was getting easier to breathe.


    She was silent for another minute before finally speaking.


    ¡°I know exactly why you¡¯re here,¡± she said. ¡°He and I were supposed to kill you. It was our job. But it turns out that wasn¡¯t quite what I had planned.¡±


    My lips parted, but no words came.


    She had killed him instead.


    But why?


    I wasn¡¯t ungrateful¡ªfar from it¡ªbut nothing about this made sense.


    ¡°Why would you want to kill me?¡± I asked, shivering from both cold and unease. ¡°I¡¯m not a threat to anyone.¡± I forced my voice to waver, hoping to sound too weak, too scared, to be worth bothering with.


    She sighed, pacing slowly. She never spared a glance at the body she had left behind.


    I tried to look away from the corpse, but I couldn¡¯t. The sight pulled at me, chilling me to the bone. The sound of his neck breaking still echoed in my mind.


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    But more than anything¡­


    I felt relief.


    Relief that it wasn¡¯t me lying lifeless in the dirt.


    ¡°The truth is more complex than you can imagine. Whether you like it or not, there are people out there who want you dead¡ªdesperately. And there¡¯s nothing you or I can do to change that.¡±


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t do anything!¡± I spat, half-furious, half-confused.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Nothing can change it now.¡±


    I wondered if I could outrun her if I tried. All I wanted was to run home¡ªto the safety of my bed, to my parents.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± I said, my voice shaking. ¡°Why was I taken? Why do you want me dead?¡±


    My hand instinctively traveled to my neck, searching for my lost pendant. They had taken everything I owned and replaced it with a filthy gown. What had they done to me? I wasn¡¯t sure I wanted to know.


    She studied me for a moment. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you everything. It¡¯s in my best interest. But before I do, I need to know you¡¯ll listen¡ªand believe me. That is, if you care about keeping your life.¡±


    I swallowed hard. I still didn¡¯t understand what was happening, but if I kept her talking, maybe I could buy myself time. Maybe, if I recovered enough, I could run. The thought of the distance I¡¯d have to cover made me dizzy. If she was even telling the truth about where we were.


    ¡°So you¡¯ll tell me why I¡¯m here,¡± I said. My knees didn¡¯t feel as weak anymore. Maybe I had a chance.


    She nodded. ¡°But I can¡¯t promise it will make sense. Still, you must trust that it¡¯s the truth.¡± Her eyes locked onto mine.


    ¡°I¡¯ll listen,¡± I said. ¡°I guess I owe you that much¡­ for helping me.¡± I tried to sound willing.


    She regarded me for another long moment, then finally spoke.


    ¡°The reason I saved you is because of the way you¡¯re dressed. A grey gown means you were taken from the city, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    I nodded, but my focus wavered. Birds were landing in the grass nearby, pecking at the earth, oblivious to me. The sight was so normal, so out of place. I forced myself to focus.


    I didn¡¯t remember much. Why had I been taken? Maybe someone was trying to blackmail my parents. But that didn¡¯t make sense¡ªwe didn¡¯t have much money. My mind raced through possibilities, none of them fitting.


    ¡°Is this because I saw something I wasn¡¯t supposed to?¡± My voice was heavy as a thought flickered in my memory. ¡°Is that why I¡¯m supposed to be dead?¡±


    A dark alley.


    Pain in my neck.


    I was running.


    But from who?


    ¡°If you don¡¯t remember, it¡¯s because of the drug they gave you,¡± she said. ¡°But it will come back. Eventually.¡±


    My breath caught.


    ¡°As for why they choose any of you¡­ I couldn¡¯t tell you. But I bet you feel like something is missing. Or wrong.¡±


    Missing?


    The words unsettled me. What could be missing? My pendant?


    She was trying to tell me something, but my head spun with too many possibilities. I glanced at the birds again, wanting to scream at them¡ªto make them notice me, to do anything but be normal while I was falling apart.


    But they just kept pecking the ground. The trees swayed. The sun shone.


    The world went on, indifferent.


    I clenched my fists. Think. Don¡¯t get distracted. What was missing?


    A horrible thought struck me. My parents. Had they been taken too? If I lost them¡­ if they were gone¡­ No. It had to be something else.


    I had to be sure. I had to make her tell me.


    ¡°Is it my parents?¡± I asked, desperation tightening my throat. ¡°Were they taken too?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    She ran her hands through her hair and left them there, gripping her skull for a moment.


    ¡°Most people taken are under seventeen. Never older.¡±


    I almost breathed again. Almost.


    ¡°Never?¡± I asked too loudly. My lips trembled.


    ¡°Never,¡± she repeated, her tone flat. ¡°And no, I wasn¡¯t talking about them. You have to pay attention.¡±


    I sucked in a breath. If my parents were safe, everything else could be fixed. I pictured them at home, waiting for me. I had to stay alive. I had to be smart. I had to find my way back to them.


    Slowly, I felt stronger. My legs steadied. My thoughts sharpened. If I kept her talking, if I made her believe I wasn¡¯t a threat, I could get away.


    But what if she was lying about my parents?


    No. Don¡¯t spiral. Stay focused. Be positive. Believe that everything will be fine.


    I breathed again.


    ¡°You said a grey gown means I was taken from the city,¡± I said, my eyes scanning the area for an escape route. ¡°What does that mean, exactly?¡±


    ¡°There are three colors used to mark the kids they keep at the castle,¡± she explained. ¡°Grey, white, and red. Grey is for the outsiders¡ªthose taken from the city. White is for the youngest. Red is for the oldest.¡±


    The oldest.


    The word lingered in my mind like an omen.


    And for the first time since I woke up, I realized I might not want to know what happened to the ones in red.


    ¡°What castle? And what do you mean by ¡®raised there¡¯?¡± I asked, confusion knotting my thoughts. Despite myself, I had to admit¡ªshe was starting to pique my curiosity.


    ¡°The only castle in Aurora. The Grey Rock,¡± she said, and for a moment, I couldn¡¯t comprehend her words. The Grey Rock belonged to the Governor, the very heart of power where those who dictated the city¡¯s fate gathered.


    ¡°They¡¯ve been breeding kids there for years,¡± she added.


    I could only gape at her, my mind blank.


    She had to be out of her mind¡ªjust like that boy had been.


    She sighed, then resumed pacing. My eyes stayed locked on her, watching as if she were some wild, dangerous animal.


    ¡°You see, I know what I am. And I know what they¡¯ve made of you. But those other kids, the ones in white and red? I don¡¯t know what they¡¯re using them for. All I know is that they¡¯re born there¡­ and they die there.¡±


    ¡°What they¡¯ve made of me?¡± The words slipped out before I could stop them. My breath caught. I hadn¡¯t meant to say that. Foolishly, I hoped she hadn¡¯t heard.


    But she had.


    She halted, tilting her face toward the sky beyond the tangled branches.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to tell you a story, and this is the part where you listen to every word I say. Understand?¡±


    I hesitated. Just a few seconds. My legs screamed for me to run, but I wasn¡¯t strong enough yet.


    I nodded.


    ¡°Good. But before that, I have a question. Do you know the legend of the fallen stars?¡±


    I nodded again.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a legend,¡± I said, a little too proudly, given the circumstances. ¡°It¡¯s real.¡±


    Everyone knew what had happened over two centuries ago. The event had reshaped humanity¡¯s beliefs, forged a new religion, and left a mark on the world that had never faded.


    ¡°Yes. Parts of it are real,¡± she said, eyes fixed on something unseen.


    ¡°What parts?¡± I asked, frowning.


    ¡°Tell me what the legend says.¡±


    I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to correct her. It wasn¡¯t just a legend. It had been a miracle. A gift.


    ¡°The book says,¡± I began, ¡°that two hundred and sixty years ago, fifty stars fell from the sky. They were a gift from God, a reminder that we weren¡¯t alone¡ªthat He was watching over us. Always.


    ¡°After that, the human race abandoned the old ways. We stopped worshipping false gods. Human and animal sacrifices were forbidden. And we learned to live in peace by following His rules, praying for His favor.¡±


    My voice was steady until that last part. Peace? I knew better. There was no peace in my world.


    ¡°And that¡¯s it?¡± she asked.


    I nodded. ¡°The sun became His symbol. The stars became ours¡ªa symbol of our fate.¡± My fingers brushed the hollow at my collarbone, where my pendant should have been.


    Every devotee wore one. Silver, flat, round¡ªetched with eight uneven lines intersecting at the center. The Grieving Star. A reminder of the fifty that had fallen, of the gift we had received.


    ¡°And that¡¯s all?¡± she pressed.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing more,¡± I said firmly.


    She exhaled sharply. ¡°But there is. They¡¯re just not telling us the whole story. Because, believe it or not, they¡¯ve been using the stars for decades.¡±


    Her eyes locked onto mine.


    ¡°They put them in my blood,¡± she said. ¡°And they put them in yours.¡±


    Goosebumps prickled my skin.


    No.


    It wasn¡¯t possible. Every star was locked away, buried deep beneath the High City of Aries for safekeeping.


    Yes, there were rumors. Whispers of stolen stars. Stories of them being sold on the black market.


    But no one would dare. The very thought of stealing a star was punishable by death.


    I had imagined it once¡ªjust a fleeting, foolish thought. A joke. Nothing more.


    But now?


    Now, I stared at the girl before me, fear curling around my ribs like a tightening chain.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I whispered.