The shifter moved through a dark world.

No rays of lethal radiation hurled out from an unforgiving star marred its writhing skin. It was free here, free from death and pain—free from restraint.

It had been a small world—more a meteor than anything—hurtling through space without a sun to swing it around into any regular orbit. It had a molten core, and its electromagnetic energy field together with the hydrothermal eruptions created a sort of dense, smokey atmosphere of sorts. If it weren’t for that, life on this rock would have been impossible. There were creatures here, and even intelligent ones. An entire society had evolved and sprung up, the product of millions of years of evolution based on simple chemosynthetic organisms.

Yes, this was a world, with ample populations of beings who had their own languages, legends, and myths. Even rudimentary governments had been developed, and technology had progressed enough that the denizens of the small planet had even been able to peek past their smoke screen and catalog their stars.

Small beings evolved from scaly arachnoids had long called this place home, and in another four thousand years they would have made craft capable of leaving the planet.

If it weren’t for the shifter.

It was all over in a few short days—the frenzy. No predator like this had ever existed on this planet. Nothing could have prepared the populations for the destruction to which they were doomed.

Without a sun to keep it in check, the shifter moved like lightning. Before long the once bustling meteor was silent, slaughtered bodies strewn about the surface.

Carnage had replaced society.

Death had come.

And it was only after the last creature was killed that the monster turned toward the next portal. A blood-soaked sensory organ picked up on scents transmitted through the fabric of space-time.

The new portal was on the same side of the planet where the shifter had originally entered.

That wasn’t unusual, some places had a greater propensity for interdimensional openings. It wasn’t uncommon for rifts such as these to develop, and there were many factors. Either way, it was close enough that the shifter passed by the discarded body of the Yuroki in which it had arrived. It too had been torn to shreds.

The shifter leapt through the portal not long before it closed.

It could smell Its prey getting closer.

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Jik felt many emotions at once.

It caused him to remember something his mother had told him long ago, “feelings are like a jester’s knives, if you try to juggle too many you’ll cut yourself.” He had never really understood what she was trying to say. It seemed to him much easier if the juggler simply held them all motionless, and that was precisely what Jik was doing.

He felt happy to see his old friends, and as his companions came and embraced him, his fear of their suspicion melted away. It was obvious they believed him still sold to the cause. That fear though was replaced with a familiar sensation of profound guilt. These were the people he had come to love so dearly, and though they were severely misguided, these were the people he planned to betray.

“Jik, my lad, it’s good to see you made it through training,” an older man said, patting him heavily on the shoulder. His name was Yuim, and he had first taught Jik to fire a glitzer.

“They didn’t turn your mind then?” a woman named Hya said laughing. “Must be a real actor to throw off any suspicion.”

“You taught me how to act,” Jik said as nonchalantly as he could. If anyone was going to pick up on the subtleties and nuances of his mistruths it would be her. He hoped his preparation was enough to avoid suspicion. “Sometimes it wears me out, pretending all day every day. There I am being a militiaman and you all are hiding in holes. The guilt sometimes eats me up.”

This made Liurn, a man slightly younger than Jik, laugh. “Yes, well we’re all very jealous I promise.” A few others joined in with the laughter, including Jik. It was somehow easier knowing what he said about guilt was actually true, just not in the way they thought it was.

“Hey you’re alright,” Yuim said in a more fatherly tone. “It’s important what you’re doing, and It’s really not easy.”

“Thank you,” Jik said earnestly. “It’s not.” That was also true.

Kwertz, a man much older even than Yuim, pushed his way toward Jik. “Well come on then, let’s get this man some real Yarvan food.” He took Jik by the shoulder and led him deeper into the hidden base. “Can’t imagine what kind of Tinarian slop they’ve been feeding you.”

Somewhere in Jik, he resented that insult, but at the same time, he couldn't help the fact that he was quite excited to eat with them. There had been more than a few nights in his militia tent in which he lay awake thinking about jellied rink eggs and crispy slices of salted perilinx.

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“I think that’s a good idea,” Jik said, and that was certainly the truth.

“And as you eat, we’ll talk strategy,” Yuim said. “We have some exciting news.”

The pit of guilt returned to Jik’s stomach, and another feeling as well—a profound sadness as he realized that some of the faces he was familiar with, the ones he was excited to see… were missing, and he knew why.

That had been something he would never get used to, knowing someone, talking to them every day, and then suddenly they were gone forever—a corpse in the cold earth.

Throughout the evening he felt things in waves. Comfort and happiness and nervousness and doubt and all the while the acidity of guilt underlying it all. Keeping his outside calm took an enormous amount of effort.

Perhaps it was the juggle of emotions, perhaps it was seeing his friends again, or even partly the food, but hours later as Jik stood before Genys, he once again felt like he couldn’t tell her everything. For whatever reason, there were still details and elements he couldn’t turn over to her.

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“So you gained this intel just… wandering around the city?” Genys asked. Jik didn’t like the hesitation in her question.

The two of them were in her private quarters, at the top of the airship, which itself was gently floating above the city. It was moored to the official Tinarian administration building, inside which Genys had held meetings all day with the Yarvan official representatives. She had already filled Jik in on how frustratingly little information they had given her. ‘Old, blind, and deaf bags of wind,’ is how she had described them. It seems that the real happenings in Yarva were going on completely separated from the government. The rebels had surely done it that way on purpose, and though Genys partly admired the foresight, it represented a complete dead end for acquiring any helpful information through the official means.

Which is why she had been so eager to see what Jik had found out. The hesitation in her question had nothing to do with any suspicion and everything to do with her annoyance at how easy it was for him to gain intel. It was a foolish thing to be jealous of, she could recognize that. She did trust Jik, even if sometimes she had to quiet her own suspicions. That was something years of military training had given her. Long ago she used to be suspicious of everyone, she even accused General Pyrn. That was a hard lesson for a young recruit. Sure, she couldn’t trust anyone one hundred percent, especially a Yarvan, but what she did know was that Jik was currently her best bet.

“There’s talk of things happening,” The Yarvan said quietly.

“Things?”

“Yes,” Jik shifted his eyes toward the windows before speaking. The man was constantly attentive—nervous almost. Genys had at first seen it with potential suspicion but had decided she liked his caution. It made her feel more confident in whatever information he provided.

“The Shadow is coming to Ullulia.”

This time Genys was the one then to double-check the security. She strode to the doorway and opened the door, peering up and down the metal gangplank outside her quarters. There was no one. She closed and locked the door and sat down once again on one of the fur-covered seats behind her low table.

“That would be… news,” she said quietly.

Jik nodded. “I spent most of my time verifying it. I had to be sure. It seems after all it’s a real person.”

“If the Shadow exists, violence will undoubtedly follow,” Genys said. “Had it been a bluff, there may have been more time. But these kinds of leaders rarely protest peacefully.”

“Such is the case wherever they arise,” Jik agreed.

“Sit down.”

Jik obediently crossed over to the small cushion across from the commander’s table. This meant he could lower his voice even further.

“It may be prudent that these be treated as rumors only,” he said. “But as I said, I spent most of my day verifying. I’m confident this isn’t misinformation. The source suggested the Shadow will arrive within the week, and there are certain… preparations for the arrival.”

“Preparations?”

For a brief moment, Genys saw some sort of hesitation. Jik looked sideways for a moment, a flash of some emotion she couldn’t quite read passed through his expressions.

He doesn’t want to tell me what he’s about to do. She filed the thought away for future use.

“There is an area near a small village in the foothills,” Jik said in barely a whisper. “They are amassing resources and troops there under the cover of darkness.”

“Which Village?”

“Ortni.”

There was silence. Genys immediately knew she should have hidden her reaction. Jik would see the slight widening of her eyes and it would give her away. He wouldn’t know if it was shock, surprise, or recognition, he would just know this was some sort of big news. She realized he had been expecting a reaction of some sort and she had given it to him.

“Thank you for this information,” Genys said. “I expect your continued investigations.”

Jik nodded, rose, and made his way toward the door. Just before he unlocked it, he turned back to the commander. “Forgive me commander for asking, but will Tinaria send reinforcements?”

“I had sent a missive,” was all Genys said.

“Glory to the Empire,” Jik said. Genys accepted his salute and the Yarvan left. As the door closed, Genys let out a long, deep breath. It had been true, what she said about the missives. What she hadn’t told him was that every single one of them had gone unanswered. She had received absolute silence from the Capitol—neither from the Senate nor from the Militia—and she suspected something nefarious was intercepting her messages.

And now there was Ortni.

The village’s name had only ever been whispered. Everything she had heard about it she was certain she wasn’t meant to. Information about the village seemed to be classified. It almost never came up in conversation, and when it did all official stances were that it was a small Yarvan town outside Ullulia of little importance—in fact, most maps didn’t even include it due to that lack of importance. A non-significant town situated toward the mountains that held no strategic value and offered nothing in the way of interest. That was the excuse anyway, the official reason the Senate gave for the fact that Ortni was the one and only Yarvan village to escape any violence during the Crusades. It was virtually untouched, and that was a detail she had noticed early on when studying the Republic’s historical records. It was also made clear to her early on to never ask questions about it.

Which is why she knew it was vital to go and investigate.

Pyrn had taught her many things, but one of them was in any given situation how to listen to what was not being said. Only the most significant knowledge never crosses the lips of powerful people. The fact that there had been whispers of Ortni in the reports of Jik meant that something big was going to happen there—perhaps it was already happening.