Judging by the purple bruises under Raf's eyes, Morgan surmised he'd been awake all night. She had hardly slept, either.
In her quiet moments, Morgan used to wonder why people were so quick to admire and follow Raf. In her darkest moments, when she was all alone, she resented him for it. He was two years younger than her, but still, she always trusted and believed in him, even as a baby. Now that the truth was out, suddenly, it made sense. The faith everyone had in him, the admiration she held for her baby brother: it was all magic, an innocent consequence of his very existence.
They ate breakfast in silence, and she glanced over at him, wondering, did he ever doubt himself before last night? Did he never question why everyone treated him special? Does he doubt himself now, now that he knows the truth, that they were magically compelled to trust him and follow him? By the weight of his shoulders and the silence that followed him, he seemed wracked with doubt.
Now that Morgan knew the truth, she doubted him, too, and wondered if it was her doubt or his. The guards and servants surrounding Raf, too, seemed unsure and sluggish. Were they grappling with their own insecurities, she wondered, or Raf's?
To complicate things further, Brother Timothy walked into the dining hall, looking smug. He eyed Raf hungrily, and waves of dread swept over Morgan; even the guards shuddered, but Morgan and Raf concealed it expertly. Rowan taught them the art of deception at an early age. The uprising, and their lives, relied on the ability to lie convincingly.
Timothy's smile was unnerving and unrelenting. "You ate. Gross. Let's go."
The siblings shared a confused glance but followed dutifully. The smile never left Timothy's face, like the face of a mannequin. He led them out of the castle and to the stone benches carved into the cliffside. The wind whistled like a ceiling overhead. The view of the island was breathtaking. But far across the ocean, a pillar of smoke rose off the smoldering island of Inari, the ruined home of the firefox, an ever-present reminder of Adam's terrible crimes and power.
Timothy smiled at them as they hurried to sit, and Morgan wondered if it would be possible to shove him over the cliff. Is that why he brought them to the cliff room? It was a bold move for their first day of instruction. Was he threatening them or taunting them? Both or neither? After a long and uncomfortable silence, Timothy finally began speaking.
"Brother Mizzet left records of the subjects you've already covered, but before I can teach you, I need to test your knowledge myself. You will each take turns reciting the history of Eden to me, starting with Morgan."
He looked at Morgan, and her heart started pounding. She cleared her head and got her story straight, concentrating on the sanctioned version, and began:
"Almost 6000 years ago, God made Adam out of land and water to rule and protect Eden. God took a rib from Adam while he slept and made Eve to be mother of humanity. When their first son Cain murdered their second son Abel, God cursed Cain and banished him to Nod."
"Good," Timothy interrupted. "Rafael." Raf cleared his throat and continued.
"Manipulated by Lucifer and grief Eve ate the forbidden fruit, and acquired knowledge, but the fruit was cursed. From then on, her children would age and die. God appeared and spoke that humans had free will; for better or worse, they chose their destiny. God would not interfere again. Before leaving, God rewarded Adam for his obedience with godly powers, with which to guide his children."
"Uh-huh." Something inscrutable flashed across his face as Brother Timothy turned to appreciate the view. He walked nearer the edge and directed, "Morgan."
She was ready this time. "Over the centuries, children of Adam and Eve covered the land of Garden. In the year 2288, Adam discovered a narrow land bridge that led to a new continent. The new land became known as Exile because Adam exiled criminals across the land bridge."
"It is beautiful here," Timothy mused aloud, in wonder and hate. He seemed to have forgotten himself completely, breathing deep and gazing out over the lush island canopy, teeming with life and dancing on the wind. Far below, the Cove Market was bustling with people. The rising sun set the horizon aflame with reds and golds rippling off blue waves. Morgan saw an opportunity.
"Is it beautiful where you're from?" She coyly inquired.
When Timothy turned to look at her, his smile was gone. His face was void of emotion. "Where I'm from, the climates are more... unforgiving."
Morgan gulped.
Timothy turned back to the view. "Rafael, what happened next?" Raf hesitated a moment but continued.
"Two millennia passed. Exile became densely populated. Societies began to develop around areas rich in rare minerals and produce. Adam permitted them a level of independence for a time, even allowing a few Exile cities to trade with cities in Garden. Before long, nations formed and amassed influence and power. Until the newly-crowned King of Atlantis declared war on Adam, believing free will meant nothing if a God like Adam ruled everyone. Adam crushed the rebellion and sank a quarter of the continent of Exile into the ocean. After that, Adam took control over Exile. He forgave the survivors, the criminals, and their children and established a Church in every city to keep the peace."
Timothy kept his eyes on the sunrise but addressed Morgan, "Tell me the history of your island."
"Crescent's history goes back over three millennia, when sailors were lost in a storm and crashed ashore. Each of the Vulpen islands developed their own cultures and systems of leadership. But everyone in Vulpex venerated the firefox who lived on the Island of Inari. When Adam… discovered the Vulpen Islands thirty years ago, Inari led the other islands in a rebellion. That rebellion ended when Adam destroyed Inari and killed everyone living there. Crescent and the other three islands surrendered. As terms of surrender, Vulpen leadership married Gardeners, and Adam established a Church on every island."
"And why did Adam kill the firefox, Rafael?" Timothy asked.
"Because mankind has been at war with the fae folk since the winged serpent deceived Eve long ago. Immortals are insidious. They say they want to help, but they sow insurrection. The firefox were heretics and deceivers. We're safer now they're gone." Raf's answer seemed unconvincing to Morgan. They would need to practice that line more.
"Hm. That will do," Timothy reluctantly turned to address them. His mannequin smile returned. "That brings us to your first assignment: I believe a fae survivor is hiding somewhere on this island. I suspect they are killing people, and I task you to find them and capture them, preferably alive.
"Rafael, to be Steward of Vulpex, you must prove your loyalty and your usefulness to the Godfather. Bring me the fae, dead or alive, and you will have done both."
Raf's mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Finally, he said, "Of course, I avail myself to Godfather Adam in every way. Where should we begin our investigation?"
"We? You're including Morgan?" Timothy referred to her as if she weren't standing in front of him. She bristled, but she was used to it from the clergy.
"Morgan is my right hand. She goes where I go," Raf responded.
Timothy took an aggressive step forward. "A day will come when your big sister isn't around to carry you. You need to stand on your own two feet."
"Morgan and I stand together," Raf said, firmly closing the discussion.
Morgan's chest swelled with pride. She believed in her little brother. It wasn't magic. It wasn't the Holy Ghost. Raf believed in her. He helped her believe in herself. What Morgan wanted most in life was to live up to the person he saw her to be.
Brother Timothy didn't react for a few seconds, then said, "Very well," unblinkingly. "I compiled a report of my conclusions." Timothy pulled out a scroll from a mystery pocket in his black robes and handed it to Raf. "I suggest you study this on your way to the Church mortuary to inspect the victim's bodies. They may provide some clue as to what species of fae we're dealing with."
Brother Timothy turned again to face the sunrise, dismissing them.
Without delay, Raf and Morgan collected equipment and readied two horses for a day trip. They remained silent, barely acknowledging each other as they rode away from their castle home.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Castle Moondial was built on top of a stone peak that islanders called the Gnomon. Going to Church meant descending the Gnomon, traversing the woods, and riding through Harbor.
Riding horseback on a bright, beautiful morning lifted their spirits, and for a short slice of time, they were free. The ocean wind whistled over the cliff, and a buzzing insect danced in the breeze. Morgan was loath to break the spell of the moment, but it was the perfect opportunity to speak without risk of being overheard.
"You've hardly spoken since Father said you're the Holy Ghost," she confronted the issue directly. "Talk to me. What's our plan here?"
For a moment, Raf only stared forward resolutely. She was afraid he might not even answer.
"Did you know?" he finally demanded, turning to meet her gaze. She winced, but she didn't look away.
"Of course not. I suspected you were the reason Rowan stayed with us, but I never guessed you were the Holy Ghost."
He clenched his fists and then released. "Hm."
The whistling wind sang on leaves in the trees not far ahead. Morgan couldn't stand the awkward silence any longer. She said, "Look, this is crazy. You didn't choose any of this, and I know you don't want war. Talk to me. What are you thinking?"
Raf's eyes watered, but he didn't cry. "Rowan must have planned this before I was born," he shook his head. "Summoning my spirit into this body, uniquely positioned to get close to Adam one day. I suppose it's all going according to plan. If Adam makes me Steward of the Vulpen Islands, he'll summon me to the Garden of Eden, and that's when Rowan strikes... It's simple. It could work. If we fail, Adam will kill us all... But I already knew those things. Nothing has changed, except now I know why.
"The most important thing now is Brother Timothy. He weirds me out, and something about this assignment sets me off. It's like he wants us out of the castle. Even the mission makes no sense. Rowan is the only fae on the island, and they aren't killing anyone, right?"
"As far as I know. So either the fae and the killings are unrelated, or there's another fae we don't know about. What makes Timothy think the killer is fae, anyway?"
"The files don't offer much evidence. Just the coroner's reports and records of tidal waves." Raf reached into his satchel and pulled out the scroll. "How about you give it a look," he said and handed it to her. "Steady your stomach. The details are gruesome."
They entered the forest and fell silent as Morgan read the reports.
On their left, mountainous peaks formed the Spine of Crescent. A lush forest sprawled over the interior valley. Most islanders lived near the waterfront, but several tribes dotted the woods and peaks, preferring to live in sheltered isolation. Anyone could appear from behind a tree. Even the wildlife could be familiar spies. They couldn't speak candidly anymore for fear of being overheard, so they kept a brisk pace in the woods, silent and alert.
The sun was high in the sky by the time they reached Harbor. The largest city on the island, Harbor was crafted on a platform of lumber, with houses built in the trees. Vibrantly tended gardens grew down and around the platforms. Flower petals fell like colorful snow from the canopy gardens above, carried away on the ocean breeze. On the wooden streets, people bustled along with places to go. Twice, someone recognized them and shouted congratulations on Rafael's victory in the Perigee festival. They waved and carried on. The sunlight was intense by the time they arrived at Church.
Church was the only stone building in Harbor, a cathedral slab of marble overlooking the city waterfront, like a headstone in a forest. It was constructed with classic Garden overtures, towering archways, and stained glass portraits of the Holy Mother and Father. Adam had all the materials shipped in from Garden thirty years ago when the islands surrendered. Upon His 'discovery' of Vulpex, most functions of state, news, education, and medicine were consolidated at Church.
Churchyard was built like an oversize theater. The steps leading to the stage were massive and many, intended to double as rafters, so that when Adam visited the island, everyone could come to witness. Morgan abhorred the church but smiled in case anyone was watching.
They secured their horses and began the hike up and down the steps to Churchyard.
When they were younger, Captain Reynard encouraged Morgan and Raf to tag along on assignments so they were familiar with the area. Churchyard was grand and crowded with petitioners and faithful brothers, bustling back and forth with somewhere to go. Exotic flowering trees decorated the paths and gaps between buildings. Churchyard's loveliness only antagonized Morgan's fury.
The mortuary was in the basement of a white marble building with gorgeous stained-glass windows; images of God 'blessing' Adam were ubiquitous in Church.
They checked in with a reception and requested entry to where the bodies were kept. Cold and dimly lit were the halls. The stench of death was overpowering. White flame sconces decorated the walls. On one side of the room were two stone slabs. On the other side was a single desk. The desk was made of marble, like the bookshelf behind it, like everything else in the building. The room was otherwise sterile, without decoration or evidence of human activity.
"Hello?" Raf shouted down the hall. "Is anyone on staff?"
From around a corner, they heard feet brushing against stone. Soon an unusually tall man appeared in black robes. His hair was black, and his jaw was sharp. There was a coldness behind his green eyes, but his voice was a warm and comforting hum, like a song that sticks with you.
"Welcome to Crescent Mortuary. Call me Shaman Kroeser. How can I help you?" Everyone in the Church had familiars. Kroeser's blackbird familiar was perched on his shoulder. It cawed a greeting to them both.
"I am Rafael Avalyn. This is my sister, Morgan. We have orders from on high. Brother Timothy believes a fae murderer may be on the island. I'd like to see where the bodies are kept. If any unusual bodies have come in lately, please show me those first."
Kroeser responded slowly as if he were considering their inquiry while preoccupied with something else. "A fae serial killer? Wow! You know, there is one body you might want to see. It came in only yesterday. Unusual... is one word for it. I finished the autopsy and put him on ice this morning. Follow me. I'll show you." With that, Kroeser turned and went back the way he came. Morgan and Raf exchanged glances and followed him down another flight of stairs and through a door. The air froze as they walked into an icy, rectangular room. Morgan started shivering immediately.
It was a freezer with bodies on waist-high marble slabs like the room upstairs. Some of the bodies looked as if they had been frozen for a long time. Shaman Kroeser stopped in front of one corpse with dozens of circular purple welts along its waist and arms. Massive chunks were cleanly carved out of the neck and shoulder. The collar bone was gone, exposing the spine, ribs, and lungs. Ink covered the body, staining the muscle and marrow jet black. Morgan and Raf exchanged breathless, knowing glances.
"Where was the body found?" Raf asked Shaman Kroeser.
"His mother found him on a riverbank downstream from a cave. It seems he was spelunking when he encountered something that leaves purple suction marks and cleaves through solid bone."
The implication was obvious: Cthulians. The oceanfolk were rarely seen off the island coast. The Land and Sea Treaty forbade them from ever touching land again or else war. Adam let them live because hunting them all down underwater would be almost impossible. Or at least time-consuming. But if a cthulian broke the treaty to kill a human, Adam might change his mind.
Morgan spoke first. "It could have been staged. Tools could have been used to imitate the carving wounds. Even if the ink is genuine, someone could have captured a cthulian and extracted it from them."
"This needs to be handled discreetly," Raf said with quiet authority. Rafael Avalyn was young, but his name, training, and unique magnetism somehow elevated him from an impetuous princeling to a formidable, imposing commander. "Morgan and I will go to the cave he was exploring to look for tangible evidence. No sense involving the Holy Father without something concrete. In the meantime, keep the body on ice."
"Have more bodies been found like this one?" Morgan asked. Shaman Kroeser looked at her and paused like he considered ignoring her question, but instead curtly responded, "No."
Morgan took a step toward the shaman and spoke directly. "We're investigating a series of possible homicides. Your records describe six bodies that washed ashore over the last 3 years. Each with similar wounds, death by exsanguination, is that right? My brother and I would like you to show us those bodies, please."
Shaman Kroeser's face contorted into a surprised snarl. His response was quick and breathless. "I can't show them to you. They couldn't be identified, so they were buried in unmarked graves behind the church."
Morgan was stunned and confused. Kroeser's reaction was oddly suspicious. Did he have something to hide or was withholding information just to spite her? She feared anything she said might be met with derision by the shaman.
Raf jumped in, "I'm sure you know the church shares public records with the stewarding family. Was any investigation conducted as to the victims' identities or whereabouts when they went missing?"
Shaman Kroeser shifted his weight uncomfortably. Then he walked to a cabinet, opened a drawer, and fingered through scrolls until he found the one he wanted.
He opened the scroll and seemed to skim its contents, saying, "One of the forensic brothers asked around. It seems one victim was known as Pika, a vagabond who slept under the docks and was known for thieving. No known origin or next of kin could be found, so the investigation was closed, quick and tidy. The brother concluded Pika was likely killed in retaliation for some theft or offense." Kroeser looked up at them with a charmed expression.
"Would it be possible to exhume the body?" Raf asked.
"As I said, the graves were unmarked, so you're welcome to dig out back, but there's no guarantee you'll unearth the right body." Kroeser tilted his head and blinked several times. "I fear there's nothing more I can do for you."
Morgan felt rage erupting in her. She wanted to smash in Kroeser's smug face. Morgan wondered if it was Raf's rage or her own. He was about to react in anger, but Morgan had another idea.
"Thank you for your time, Shaman Kroeser. If another exsanguinated body washes ashore, keep it on ice and alert us. We'll see ourselves out."
Raf hesitated. His jaw clenched, but he kept his composure, nodded a farewell, and turned to leave. Morgan wanted to scream and punch something, but they kept calm, walking back to their horses. Once safely out of earshot, Raf said plainly, "Kroeser is hiding something. I assume you have an idea."
"Either he's hiding something, or he's just an asshole, but yeah, I got a plan. Kroeser gave us a name and location. Let's ask around the docks if anybody knew Pika. Maybe it won't lead anywhere, but there's still a trail. Let's see where it leads."