The rain’s allure had worn off. Its fury was just appalling now. The droplets fell like stones; sprays of mist scoured their faces like shards of glass. The trees bent to the ground, as if the World was tipping over.

But the brunt of the storm seemed distant. Jagged bolts and white flashes etched the horizon. Far-off thunder rumbled, low and persistent. The black clouds streamed across the sky like a rising tide, headed northward.

Leira screamed. Though they were beside each other, the sound was faint, crushed by the wind.

She grabbed Gwil’s arm. “There’s a fucking naked creep up there,” she hissed, pointing into the trees.

Gwil crouched and squinted, spotted something pink and fleshy. “Shh.”

“Don’t shush me.”

Gwil called out, “Top o’ the mornin’ to ya. My name is Norman.”

Through the leaves, the pink body shifted. “I smell the grave. Call me Dave.”

Gwil took Leira by the wrist, shushed her again, and led her through the brush into a small clearing. In the center, a man-sized axolotl lounged across a log, laying on its back with its little limbs sticking out. The long-torso creature had pale, white-pink flesh. It lifted its head to regard them—wide mouth stuck in a big smile, black eyes beady and unblinking. These things always looked so innocent.

“Quick, are you Ixik?” Gwil said.

“Offence. Are you dense? I’m Kixik. Stupid boy, one of her toys. Bad memory, no remedy.”

“Don’t weep,” Leira whispered to Gwil. “I’ll put it to sleep.”

Gwil shook his head frantically. “Nice weather. We shouldn’t dither,” he said. “Ta-ta, wish you find a fish for your ma-ma.”

The axolotl scrambled off the log and drew itself up onto its tiny hind legs, which quivered under the weight. The creature swayed as it stood.

“Don’t go, bad flow. Miss him you will, bad for your thrill.”

“Let us be along, I hate this song,” Leira said as she tried to lead Gwil away. “What the fuck? Why am I talking like that? Gwil!”

The axolotl ripped one of its arms off and threw it at Leira. She caught it out of reflex, then screamed and dropped the squirming, bloody worm on the ground.

The axolotl, however, had already regrown its limb, and was swinging its arms in a dance and humming a triumphant tune.

“Sorry, sorry, far-she,” Gwil said.

“Her weed. Nasty centipede. Queen is mean.”

Leira gasped.

“Wow, you’re like me now,” the creature squeaked, as it skittered over to Gwil. Leira backed away as the axolotl grabbed Gwil’s finger with its tiny hand. “How many arms? And it’s no harm.”

“In for an arm, out for the farm,” Gwil said.

“You have no mind, born from her wine,” the axolotl said, wiggling its body and flapping its big mouth. “Fix the wish. You good, you kind. Mangle, unwind the bad maker’s tangle. This place, gone without a trace. Spike in the heart, strike at their art.”

“Break it and shake?” Gwil said.

The axolotl shook its head and then let its mouth hang open. “Did you mention a fish for my mother? I can’t believe I wasted my time with you when such a splendid opportunity was available. Good day!”

The axolotl went down on all fours and hurried away.

“Bye,” Gwil said.

“Sir! I said good day, sir!” the creature snapped as it disappeared into the lush underbrush.

Leira exhaled in a way that suggested a long-held breath. “What the fuck was that?”

“I dunno,” Gwil said. “They’re weird. We got lucky, though. I got stuck with one for a whole day once. They can really mess with your head.”

Leira stuck her finger in her ear and twisted it. “You should’ve let me knock it out.”

“No way,” Gwil said. “Caris told me if you make one mad, they’ll turn you into one of them.”

“Fucking hell, we should’ve just run away!” Leira said.

“Noo. That makes them madder than anything else,” Gwil said. “C’mon, we better go before Ixik shows up. He’s way smarter.”

Leira ran ahead.

***

They were soaking, muddy messes by the time they reached Brakker’s far coast. Leira was on the verge of hysteria, and scary for it. Gwil had never heard such colorful language.

She proved that her voice—normally sweet as a songbird’s—knew no bounds of volume or shrillness.

The strait that separated Brakker and the Mikaran mainland was only a kilometer wide. But the sea was so violent, like some great undine threw a tantrum beneath the waves.

The storm bellowed within the narrow channel; all its fury being funneled between the landmasses. Lightning flashed constantly, like a rippling sheet cast over the northern horizon.

“Damn.” Gwil had been hoping to find a boat on this beach. Small vessels often washed up here in various states of disrepair. He’d always felt that they were taunting him, trying to lure him into leaving. If one had been here, it’d been swept away.

Failing that, he’d thought they could build a raft. But challenging this storm with strung-together bits of driftwood was a laughable idea.

“I guess we gotta wait,” he said, scanning the beach for a place to hunker down.

“I’m freezing,” Leira said. “This is bullshit. Why would an island have cold weather? You’re an idiot for living here.” Her teeth chattered with such force that her head was bouncing.

“At least it’s not snowing,” Gwil said.

“Fuck off with that cheery shit,” she snapped. She plopped down and pulled the collar of her jacket over her head like a turtle.

Gwil left her to stew in it and went to look around. They’d be better off in the woods, but getting clobbered by a torn-out tree was a concern. He thought he remembered a safe spot somewhere nearby.

It began to hail—a barrage of coin-sized stones. He heard Leira launch into another tirade. Her voice would not be outdone by the howling wind.

“Gwil! Gwil! Gwilym!”

Gwil hurried back out of the woods and spotted Leira’s silhouette through the torrent. She had moved to the edge of the sea. “What?” he called.

She pointed at the water. “Is that a fucking boat?”

Gwil ran up to her, and sure enough, there was a small sailboat being thrown about by the waves. The thing was only visible when it crested a surging swell.

Gwil laughed. “What a lunatic!”

The little dinghy was heeled on its side. A lone man struggled to stay on his feet as he fought with the sail. His wild gray hair streamed behind him like a flag.

Gwil and Leira stared in silent awe as the sailor expertly—or perhaps miraculously—navigated his plight.

They both gasped as the dinghy was pitched into the air. Gwil glimpsed the man’s face and saw that he was grinning from ear to ear.

Though he was being rocked every which way, it became clear that the man intended to make landfall on Brakker. And against all odds, he was getting closer.

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Leira fell to her knees. It had happened in the blink of an eye.

A huge squid-shark breached the water within arm’s reach of the dinghy. The monstrous fish dwarfed the boat. It twisted in the air, jaws gaping, face-tentacles whipping. The boat would be obliterated, the man devoured.

The sailor drew his sword in a slash, and cut the beast clean in two. Both halves fell back into the water on either side of the boat. No blood spilled out, not one drop.

Goosebumps pimpled across Gwil’s skin. A void lingered in the blade’s path, as if the man had cut away the essence of the World. The smile never left his face. The sound of his laughter carried on the wind.

Gwil set off up the coast at a run. He very much wanted to meet this man.

“Idiot!” Leira called.

The dinghy came whirling in atop a wave and then crashed down on the shore. The man stepped down as if he were stepping out his front door.

He had dark-skin and his hair—which fell halfway down his back—was dirty gray. His face was as rough and wrinkled as beaten leather. A short but unkempt beard covered his cheeks and chin. He would’ve looked old and sorry except that he was cut like a heroic statue and his arms and chest were covered with gruesome scars. He had nothing at all on his person except his tattered pants and a sword that hung loose from a loop on his belt. The weapon was unimpressive, a rusted cutlass with a chipped tip.

Gwil halted a dozen paces away. The stranger dragged his boat away from the waterline and then surveyed the beach, hands on his hips.

Leira tore past at a full sprint, beelining for the old man. Pink wisps trailed from the eyeflower.

“What are you doing?” Gwil shouted.

The old man said, “Uh-oh,” and then waved his hand. Leira fell into a tumble. The gesture was so easy Gwil might have believed the wind had knocked Leira over.

But the man’s exertion of power had sucked the air out of Gwil’s lungs. Unnatural heat rippled through the air. Nirva.

Gwil ran to help Leira up, keeping his eyes trained on the stranger. If he’s hostile… Leira was shivering.

But the man made no move except to put his hands up and laugh. “Hello there, friends. I tell ya, I didn’t expect a welcoming party in this weather.

Gwil kept his arm around Leira’s shoulder, ready to scoop her up and run.

The old man put his hands together and bowed his head slightly. “Sorry ‘bout that, young lady. But you looked keen on ripping out my throat, and fierce enough to do it without a second thought.”

Leira buried her face in her hands and shook her head.

Gwil tensed. “That was some impressive sailing,” he said, raising his voice against the wind.

“Har! I’m too old. Thought that shark had me dead. Call me Skuld.” The man held out his hand but stayed where he was, allowing Gwil to approach.

Leira looked up. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I was scared.”

Skuld nodded. “You’re smart for that.”

Gwil stepped forward and shook Skuld’s hand. His skin was as rough as rusted metal. “So, what brings you to Alnam, Skuld?”

“The goddamn wind!” Skuld bellowed. “I was aiming for Arleen, but the tide dragged me here.”

“Arleen?” Leira said, her voice steady again. “You’re going that far on that shitty raft?”

“Watch it, miss,” Skuld said, smiling. “That thing carried me halfway around the World. And what about you two? Storm got ya down?”

“I live here, actually,” Gwil said. “But we’re on our way to the mainland.”

“Really?” Skuld said, scratching at his chin. He looked around, frowning, and then nodded to himself. “Aye. Do you guys like fish?”

***

Skuld had waded into the sea and caught three fish with his bare hands. It took him less than two minutes.

Then, Gwil led them into the woods that bordered the beach to a cluster of ruined clay buildings. They’d picked out the one that offered the most shelter and built a fire.

Leira’s mood had done a one-eighty. The prospect of food certainly helped, but she was practically rolling on the floor laughing while Skuld cooked the fish.

The old man was telling a story about a political scandal in a far-off city called Veirga. Leira had apparently visited the place and held immense hatred for one of the city’s barons. Gwil missed a lot of the details, but the gist was that said baron got caught dumping toxic waste in the river that supplied water to most of the city. He was then paraded through the streets whilst being pelted by garbage and was subsequently drowned in the very same river. Leira was thrilled by that outcome.

“Mmm, smells good,” Skuld said, wafting the smoke toward his nose. “I been stuck eatin’ ‘em raw for the past week.”

Skuld declared the fish ready and handed out the meals. Three big, plump mackerel, which the old man had carved into immaculate fillets with just a sharpened stick, even though Gwil had offered him a knife.

Though the only seasoning they had was salt, the flavor was so splendid that Gwil thought he might cry. And Leira actually did.

“How?” she pleaded through a mouthful.

Skuld laughed. “Just got a good feel for it after all these years.”

Skuld’s eyes were bright and kind, but Gwil could feel the man’s gaze drilling into him while they ate. After they’d scarfed down the last of the food, Skuld leaned in close.

“You two are unusual,” he said. “The World bends around you. I can see it in the air.”

“Speak for yourself,” Leira said. “That’s the wind, you old fool.”

Skuld laughed. “Indulge this old fool, then. Let me pass on what I know. Who knows how much time I have left?”

They waited for him to speak as he closed his eyes and knuckled them.

“You’ve probably heard the saying before. That there’s only three things that didn’t change after the Apocalypse: chess, the metric system, and cockroaches.

“This World of ours is wrong. Our roots are serpents. There’s something in the water, the soil, the air. Call it a poison, for want of a better term. If you take a step back and look, really look, everyone’s half-insane. Something got its claws in us, and it changed us. Pah! I don’t mean just us Hallowed. You think ordinary folk are supposed to be so reckless and fierce and vigorous? Nature wouldn’t design creatures like us. Couldn’t. Look at this madness! Everyone and everything teetering on a hundred different brinks. Stretched too thin.”

Gwil and Leira exchanged a look.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Gwil said.

Skuld waved him off and laughed. “Ah, I’m just ramblin’. And don’t get me wrong—I’m not saying we’re worse off. There’re far bigger problems. And me? I love it. It’s a riot, and a damn sight better than the Hells. You can bet on that. Nobody wants to die from a spot of shitty luck. Whew! That’s a steep cost.

“All I’m saying is we’ve strayed onto a different path, and who knows where we’re headed? Just keep it in mind, that’s all.”

Gwil furrowed his brow. “Thanks.”

Leira burst out laughing. “Piss off! Where are you hiding the booze?”

“Bahaha! You kids wanna borrow my boat? I don’t need it so bad.”

“Huh?” Gwil said. “We can wait out the storm. Are you gonna stay on Alnam?”

“C’mon, let me show you the ropes,” Skuld said.

Gwil made to stand, but Skuld put a hand on his shoulder, and he found himself rooted to the ground. The old man waved his hand in Leira’s direction. Expressionless, she stood and walked out of the hovel. Her movement was peculiar, stiff, like a puppet.

“Where’d she come from?” Skuld asked gruffly.

Gwil shook his head. “She just showed up and killed me!”

The old man’s face darkened. He fixed Gwil with a glare. “That’s a terrible burden she carries. Makes me wanna cry.” He gripped Gwil’s shoulders and squeezed them. “One day, everything will come crashing down on her. She’ll need your help. Don’t you dare abandon her. If you did, I’d have a mind to hunt you down and kill you.”

Hailstones were tinkling against the shelter. Gwil was stunned to silence, but Skuld expected an answer.

“The way I see it, our lives are as one.”

“Good lad,” Skuld said, but his smile was sad. He reached out with his hand and almost touched the deep scar on Gwil’s chest. Then he put his hand over his own heart. “You’re really one of them.” He laughed. “That’s fucked. I can’t believe I ran into you like this. Fate sure has a sense of humor.”

Gwil sneered. “Huh?”

“Ash must have been thrilled when she found you.” He leaned closer. “I see it—you’ll throw yourself to the wolves for nothing. Gods, she did a number on you. You’ll be her perfect little machine. And she’s just gonna set you loose? I guess she’s decided it’s time to put the World to the question. She’s going all in.”

“What are-”

Skuld waved his hand. “Forget it.”

Gwil blinked. “Where’s Leira?”

He stood and walked out. Skuld followed him. Leira was up ahead, wandering slightly off course. She turned, startled, but fell in step with Gwil as if nothing was amiss.

Gwil liked this old man. He was easy to trust. And it was plain to see—Skuld had something of the hero about him. Gwil didn’t want to squander this chance.

“You knew I was a Hallow,” Gwil blurted.

Looking amused, Skuld nodded as they reached the beach.

“I just died yesterday,” Gwil said quickly. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t know anything about Nirva.”

Skuld clapped him on the back. “I can see that.”

“We’re looking for Ashkana,” Leira cut in.

“Ashkana?” Skuld bit his lip, head bobbing as if weighing his next words. “What’d you have to do with her?”

“Just tell him, Gwil,” Leira said. “This guy could kill us without lifting a finger.”

Skuld winked. “Lucky there aren’t too many like me just walking around.”

“Right,” Gwil said. “Uh, so this old lady who raised me, her name was Caris. One day some, I dunno, assassins came and killed her. And then some dragon warrior with a knife in his eye showed up and decided to leave me alive. But the old lady, before she died, told me not to die, no matter what. I blew it. But she also said, if I became a Hallow, to go find Ashkana.”

Skuld grunted, rubbing his chin. “Sorry to hear that. But this isn’t something I’m willing to interfere with. I don’t wanna piss my sister off.”

Before Gwil could open his mouth, Leira shoved him aside and grabbed hold of Skuld.

“Did you just say that you’re Ashkana’s brother?” She looked demented.

“Yeah,” Skuld said. “I’m her little brother. I haven’t seen her in, oh, a century now. Are you fond of her?”

Leira pulled Skuld down so that their faces were level. “I’ve idolized her since I came out of the womb, old man. Where is Ultima Thule?”

Skuld chuckled. “She’ll love you. You act just like she did when she was young.”

Leira swooned and fell to her knees, mouthing words at the sky like a fish out of water.

Skuld turned to Gwil. “This is too delicate for my clumsy hands. I don’t wanna ruin Ash’s design.”

“Huh?” Gwil said.

“What I’m saying is we need to part ways. The boat’s yours. Best get going.”

Gwil stammered.

“And about the Nirva, I’d ruin you. It’s a journey. Trust yourself. Have fun. You have serious potential. There’s a hell of a lot flowing through you—excuse the pun. I’ll just say: ignore the voices, if you can. You don’t wanna open that can of worms yet.”

Gwil nodded. “Thanks anyway. And for the fish, too.”

Skuld grunted. “I’ll be off then.”

“Wait,” Gwil said. “You don’t need to give us your boat. Don’t strand yourself on our account.”

Skuld laughed. “I know how to swim. If I’m lucky, I might just procure a nicer boat. Farewell, kids.” He jogged toward the water.

“Stop!” Leira screeched. She scrambled to her feet. “I have questions that I demand you answer.” A shimmering red cloud hung around her face. The flower’s petals swayed with hypnotic distortion.

Gwil palmed his forehead.

Skuld turned. “Don’t be ridiculous. Wouldn’t you rather meet her for yourself? My fumbling words won’t do her justice.”

“Dammit,” Leira said. “You’re so right. I’m a fool.”

Skuld set out again. “Good luck,” he called over his shoulder. “If you survive, I reckon we’ll meet again.”

They watched the crazy bastard dive into the sea’s gnashing jaws. Despite his powerful presence and disarming grace, Skuld was dwarfed.

He was being thrown about like a rag doll. But every time he went under, he resurfaced further out. They watched until Skuld was too small to see.