We arrive at Peakshadow the following evening, an hour or so before the sun will slip beneath the surrounding hills. The town is murmuring with quiet, everyday life.

I don’t recognize any of it.

I’m not sure what I’d been expecting. Maybe flashbacks to when the predator first possessed me, crushing my freewill like a bug. Perhaps I’d see a familiar house or patch of street, and recall the blood that had been sprayed there.

But I don’t. I’m not sure if it’s because last time the town had been in the middle of a festival, or that some of the houses have been rebuilt, or because I’m navigating it from a completely different vantage point, but I might as well be walking through a town I’ve never visited before.

Until we find Attiru’s Atlas Emporium, that is.

The front window is whole. The doorframe looks polished and new. But when I look at it, I see the shattered glass and broken wood. I remember the predator’s thoughts and feelings that had been forced onto me.

I feel an echo of pain in my glass from when void had cracked my vial to seep out into reality. I absently rub my chest, as if that could ease the memory.

The predator recognizes this place, too.

It remembers the hunger. Back then, it had been so painfully keen the predator had nearly been driven mad from starvation. It recalls the desperation it felt to gain a more permanent foothold in reality. Delighted at all the intense sensations that came with leaving the Between. The thrill of the hunt. The taste of—

Stop. I push the predator’s mind away, my soul feeling as brittle as my glass. I don’t want to experience those memories again. Please.

The predator doesn’t understand why. It was only recalling a good memory. One of elation, and freedom, and sating a gnawing hunger.

Those were people, I think. I feel taut with… I don’t know what. Anguish? Frustration? Some turmoil of the two? It should understand how horrible its actions were. The hurt it caused to others. To Noli. To me.

The predator pauses at this. Noli? The ally. It doesn’t remember her being there. And it is not bad to eat when starving. To defend when attacked. That is the most normal thing.

It’s not. Without teeth to grit, adrenaline to shake me—a physical enemy I could face—it’s all I can do to just clench my fists. Its inability to understand stokes my frustration. My inability to explain turns that frustration into anger. Those were people, I repeat, uselessly.

People. The group of animals that are different from other animals. The predator is still chewing on this concept.

Noli touches me on the shoulder, and I jump.

“Kanin?” she signs. “You weren’t responding.”

I flex my fingers, forcing my glass to relax. “Sorry. I wasn’t looking.”

Her brows are pinched in concern. “We could wait until tomorrow morning.”

“No,” I sign. “No, it’s okay. Let’s see them. I want to.”

After a moment more, she nods, turns back to the shop, and knocks as she pushes the front door open.

“We’re closing,” a voice says from within. But even before I’ve stepped in after Noli, the voice lights up with delighted surprise. “Oh! Noli, dear!”

Attiru is exactly as I remember them. A cambion, just like Zyneth—and yet, nothing at all like Zyneth. I remember thinking how similar the two appeared when I first met them. It’s funny, now, how after spending so much time with Zyneth, I couldn’t imagine them being more different.

Unlike Zyneth’s toned body, Attiru clearly has the physique of a scholar. They’re shorter than him, thin and wiry with glasses to match—but there’s details I notice now that I hadn’t picked up on before. Like their lack of gold freckles, as Zyneth has, and how their horns are a darker shade and sweep around their head in a different kind of curve.

It’s so strange meeting them at eye-level.

Noli and Attiru share a quick hug, and peck each other’s cheeks.

“It’s been a while,” they say. I note that their speech shifts slightly as they address her: more clear, and they’re making an effort to face her, even while their gaze darts over to me. “Who is your friend?” They add the sign for ‘friend’ at the end.

Noli beckons me over with a smile.

“We’ve met, actually,” I speak and sign, so Noli can also follow the conversation. Lip reading isn’t an option with me—not that it’s a particularly good option in the first place, as Noli’s mentioned to me before. For their part, Attiru seems surprised to hear me speak. “It’s Kanin.” Their face remains perplexed. “The ink bottle,” I add.

“Oh.” Attiru’s face lights up with surprise. “Oh my! You’ve certainly grown.”

I chuckle. “I guess so.”

Noli glances between us during our greeting, so I turn to her next. “Would you like for me to interpret?” I offer. “Is that okay? Or would you prefer to lip read?”

“Interpretation would be much more preferable,” she admits.

I’ve never done this before. Rezira was always around to help if needed. And I don’t have nearly her level of fluency, not to mention, I don’t have a face, and I know that muddies things. But Noli’s never complained about that—of course she hasn’t.

“I’ll do my best,” I sign.

She gives me a glowing smile that says without a need for any language: I know you will.

“So what brings you guys up around these parts?” Attiru asks.

“We were in the area, helping a friend, and thought we would stop by,” Noli signs.

From the way Attiru watches her, it’s clear they know at least a bit of signs themself, but I interpret anyway. I wonder if they knew a little before they met Noli, or learned because of her. She has that effect on people.

I struggle to keep up as the two chat like old friends. Maybe it’s because there are still plenty of words I don’t know myself, but I hadn’t realized how stressful and mentally exhausting this was. I stumble over some signs in an attempt to keep up with the pace of the conversation, and more than once I have to pause when I get to a word I don’t know, or try to talk my way around it. Rezira had made it look effortless. I think I just developed a newfound appreciation for the woman.

Over dinner, which Attiru is more than happy to provide, they also offer a place to stay for the night.

“No, that’s not necessary,” Noli objects. “We were going to get an inn, anyway. I wouldn’t want to impose!”

“It’s no imposition at all,” they insist. “After everything Rezira did to help fix up my shop, it’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, please,” Noli signs. “I already owed you, anyway!”

Attiru chuckles. “Well, if you really want to return the favor and you’re ever in need of a map, you know where to find me.” They push back their plate. “I’ve only one spare bed, however, so I’ll need to prepare something makeshift.”

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“That’s alright,” I say. “It would only be for Noli. I won’t be spending the night.”

They raise a curious eyebrow. “You’ve somewhere else to be?”

I’m suddenly and keenly aware of all the void hiding beneath my coat. They don’t know about the predator. They don’t know it’s been here, hiding, only an arm’s span away, this whole time.

I’d been so focused on interpreting that I hadn’t even had a chance to think about it before now. I wonder if Noli had known it would keep me preoccupied. Either way, I’m no longer distracted, and that’s all it takes for the memories to finally flash through me. Pinning Attiru to the ground. Our void stabbed through their arm. Reaching for their soul.

My own soul goes cold at the memory. I can’t tell them. They’ve been so happy all evening. I’ve already unearthed this trauma with Noli; I won’t do it to Attiru, too.

“I can’t sleep in this body,” I tell them, which is true. “I’ll use the time to go do more productive things.” Which is half true.

“In the middle of the night?” Attiru asks, skeptical. “You could always stay in my study, if you like. I’ve a variety of books.”

Why is it that everyone being so damn nice and considerate just makes me feel worse?

Noli raises an eyebrow at me, and I quickly jump back to interpreting.

“I think he’s got a book of his own he’s supposed to be studying,” Noli replies when I’m done.

“The glass book,” I realize. Damn, I’d actually forgotten about it, even though I’ve been lugging the brick around with me all this time. I better get on that tomorrow and glance through it on the last leg of our trip.

“Well, my door’s always open if you need it,” Attiru says.

“Thank you,” I say. “Really, for… everything.”

They seem to understand my thanks are about more than dinner and lodging, and their smile softens. “Of course. I’m just glad I could help you both back then. And I’m glad to see you both doing better now. It’s good to feel as though I made a difference.”

“You did,” I say quietly. They saved Noli, and in doing so, they saved me.

“Why do you live up here in this little town?” Noli abruptly asks, shifting the direction and tone of the conversation. “Your maps are beautiful. You could sell them anywhere! Is there someone you moved here for?”

“Oh no, nothing like that,” they say with a chuckle. “I enjoy the peace. All the plants—so much green. Mount Shale had some trees, but they were mostly imported, planted in artificial patterns, and shaped meticulously for decorative purposes. The whole city was that way. Carefully maintained and intentional. It’s nice to be away from it all. Breathe fresh air untainted by sulfur.”

Mount Shale. That sounds familiar. Echo? I ask.

[Mount Shale,] Echo says. [An equatorial island and city-state largely populated by cambions.]

“Oh!” I say, remembering. “Zyneth said he was from there.”

Attiru gives me a strange look. “Of course he is.”

“Well, not all cambions live there, surely?” Noli asks. “You don’t.”

Attiru shakes their head. “No—of course we can live elsewhere. Just because the queens attempt to keep their country isolated and self-sufficient doesn’t mean we can’t leave. Many like myself have found the society there… trying. Especially so for Lord Zyneth, I imagine.”

I stumble over the last few words mid interpretation. “Sorry. Lord Zyneth?”

Noli and I look at each other. I mean, I knew he was rich. It shouldn’t come as a surprise he’s part of some noble house, or something. He’s just been so tight-lipped about his family. Which is strange, because what little details he does let slip indicates he has several siblings he cares about very much.

Attiru shakes their head. “You’re right. I should say Prince Zyneth.”

For a moment, the world seems to freeze. Attiru’s words spin around my head several times without meaning. Then they finally snap into place.

“What?!” I stand up.

Attiru looks up at me, wide-eyed. “I, um. You didn’t know?”

Noli shakes her head. “I missed that. What happened?”

My shock dissolves into skepticism. No, that can’t be right. Zyneth would have told me. Wouldn’t he?

I make myself sit back down, signing to Noli. “They said Zyneth is a prince.” I turn to Attiru. “Are you sure? It’s not… You don’t mean some other Zyneth?”

Attiru looks extremely uncomfortable. “Completely. Royal history and lineage were required schooling in the court. Sorry. I thought he would have… well perhaps it’s not something he would share with acquaintances.”

Those words are like a punch to the gut. “We’re dating.”

Attiru opens their mouth as if to say something, then just leaves it hanging open.

It feels like static is crawling all over me. Something pinches my soul.

Attiru’s right. I believe them. It makes a lot of things about Zyneth make a lot more sense. Yet, it hurts. Why did he keep that from me? Doesn’t he trust me?

The question stops me. I don’t have a great track record with keeping people’s trust. Of course he wouldn’t have opened up about his family. I haven’t earned it.

“Well, this is all very exciting,” Noli signs. She reaches across the table to pat my hand. “We’ll talk to him about it when we get back, alright? Before then, there’s no sense in stewing on it. Nothing we can do all the way out here!”

“You’re dating?” Attiru finally asks, staring at me. “I mean you’re… How…”

“We’re still figuring things out,” I say shortly, trying to take Noli’s words to heart. But my mind is still reeling.

“Are you friends with any other cambions that have left?” Noli asks, dragging both my and Attiru’s attention back to her as I interpret. The conversation returns to the mundane, and my mind is pulled from Zyneth; I don’t have the opportunity to think about much else when I’m focused on interpreting the conversation at hand. I faintly suspect that was intentional.

After another hour more, I have to excuse myself. My mood is low, and the prospect of handing my mind over to the predator for the rest of the night is actually starting to sound pretty appealing.

“It’s getting late,” I tell Noli. “Will you be alright without me?”

She laughs. “Believe it or not, I got by just fine without you or Rezira for most of my life.”

“Sorry,” I sign quickly, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t thinking.”

“I know, dear.” She pats my hand. “Please be safe out there. I’ll meet up with you in the morning, then.”

I reiterate my departure to Attiru, and we all stand to begin clearing the table.

“Kanin,” they say as I help clean up. “About Zyneth—I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how things had developed since I last saw you all. It wasn’t my place to speak for him. But listen, for many cambions, even for those of us who have moved away, our relationship with our homeland can be… complicated. Please don’t think this was anything personal on his part.”

I try to take their words to heart. It’s difficult to hear what they’re saying when I just want to feel upset. But I try.

“Did you know him?” I ask.

Attiru shakes their head. “We’d never directly met. I worked as a cartographer in the high courts, but only personally met a few of the royal family.”

“Was he…” I’m still trying to wrap my mind around all this. “I mean, is he going to become a king someday?”

Attiru laughs. “Oh, no. Not likely. He was something like tenth in line, if I recall. And he lost any claim he might have had when he left. It was quite the scandal.” Their smile fades. “But these are questions you should be asking him, not me. And when you do, just… offer him grace. We don’t get to pick our family, but they leave their marks on us anyway. He will likely feel guilty you found out like this.”

A tension loosens in my soul. I can picture exactly what Attiru just described. Zyneth always seems to carry this quiet guilt with him, no matter how much good he’s done. That instinct to help people is part of it, I think. He wants to make amends. Amends with what, I’m only partially sure—and I don’t know if he’s entirely sure, either. If I confronted him about this, he’d beat himself up over not telling me sooner. What good would that do?

What good does any of my offense do?

“Thank you,” I tell Attiru. “You’re right. I don’t think he kept it from me intentionally. I think he probably just didn’t know how to bring it up.” My frustration bleeds away, and when I think of Zyneth, I’m instead filled with affection. “He will when he’s ready.”

Attiru smiles. “I’m glad to hear it. I wish both of you well.”

When I leave that night, stepping outside the Atlas Emporium to look around the quieting streets, it feels like a weight has fallen away. I’m walking out of this store on my own two legs. Attiru is healthy and happy. The town is rebuilt. How far we’ve all come.

We’re not without scars, though. As I head for the edge of town, I try to pinpoint where the predator had killed the two adventurers. A wave of guilt washes over me once more.

Guilt is a feeling I’ve recently become all too acquainted with. I relate to Zyneth in that respect more than any other.

But I don’t let myself drown in it. As I step into the woods, I take that pain, and like a piece of Caecius’s red-hot glass, I forge it into determination.

No matter how much we might wish it, we can’t change what’s passed; another painfully learned lesson for me. But we can move forward, learn from these mistakes, and use that knowledge to help others.

I can’t live as a human anymore. I can’t prevent the deaths the predator caused. I can’t undo the summoning of all those human souls to this planet.

All I can do is try to do better. Grow and forgive and rebuild.

This is the hand I have been dealt—along with several poor cards I drew for myself. Now it’s up to me to decide how I play them. It might not be a winning hand, but at least I can choose what to do with it.

I look down at the void swirling around me as the predator eagerly awaits its time. Shadows ripple over the forest floor, rising and sinking in faint impressions of teeth. Void crawls over my fingers in the shape of a claw, and I clench my fist shut.

Even this. I’ll find a way to use it for good.