The sky above Garo’s palace was the most shocking blue. Aria stared at it as her captors led her out the giant palace doors and onto dry, barren ground. She had stared at the same sky on her first day at the palace and marveled at how dream-like everything seemed; marveled that she - of everyone in her cohort - had made it here.

Stone walls surrounded the palace, taller than any tree she had ever seen. Her captors led her straight toward its only opening, iron doors as tall as the walls. Two groups of warriors stood guard beside the open doors, spears by their sides, eyes fixed Aria’s group.

Outside the gate, a carriage was already waiting. ‘Carriage’ was a generous word for it. It was a flat metal platform with two iron benches fixed atop it. Her captors forced her onto it and she let them. They had already taken her knife, and though they lacked the muscular form of Garo’s warriors, she knew her fists would not defeat them. Even Garo had gone quietly, and she was not his match.

Two of the men took the front bench, while the other two sat on either side of her. It was a tight and uncomfortable fit. While she tried to shrink to keep from touching the men, the carriage rose by itself. It rose smoothly, with barely a whiff of wind. In mere seconds, Garo’s palace was so far below them, that she could not point it out. She knew that they were moving, but the air appeared still. The carriage too, was stable despite its awkward form. With no walls or railings, it would not be difficult to send her captors flying off the edge. They did not seem worried about that. They had not even bound her.

She pondered the action. One push. If she was strong enough, she could send them both over the edge.

And then what? The other two were out of her reach. Even if she could dislodge them, she had never flown a carriage before. And the Black God would simply hunt her down in person.

Aria told herself to wait. There was no escape yet.

The flight seemed long, but it should not have lasted more than five minutes. The men never spoke or even looked at her. Each wore a solemn, dutiful expression. If they pitied her, they kept it from their faces. She wondered about the prince, if he was better. If he recovered, perhaps he would plead for her. Perhaps he knew who had poisoned him.

Several minutes into the trip, the world blinked into a deep, unpierceable black. Aria’s stomach lurched, but the darkness disappeared almost immediately and the carriage came to a stop. They were in the upper realm.

White clouds stretched below them, from horizon to horizon, and just beneath the carriage, in a perfect circle, lay a pristine lake. While she gaped, the attendants beside her stepped off the carriage and stood casually, on the surface of the lake. Then, one of them beckoned her down. She hesitated, and they waited patiently, unconcerned by her potential escape. And why would they not be? The upper realm was the home of the Black God. Even if she could steal a carriage, she doubted that she could escape without his permission.

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“It’s safe,” one of the men said. “Come down.”

She tested the ground with one toe, first. The water rippled, but her foot did not sink through it. When she was fully dismounted, the man gestured for her to walk ahead of him.

So she walked, and stared at the water with both fear and wonder. Pink fish swam under her feet, then turned and swam a circle around her. After two more circles, the school dispersed, and she watched them until they were too far away.

Aria walked as she was instructed, but there was nothing to walk toward. Only clouds and water surrounded them. When she glanced backward, the men seemed to know where they were going, but they did not seem to be seeing anything either.

The world flickered again. This time it was less disorienting. When her vision returned, she was in a new place. There were no walls to be seen. Behind her, only blackness marked the point of entry. The same blackness formed walls above, below, and around her. She paused in confusion, then the attendants appeared behind her.

The attendant shoved her again. Away from the clouds, her fear was returning. When she dragged her feet, he took her by the arm and set a brisk pace. Several steps later, they passed another invisible wall - she was learning to sense them - and she was in another room. It was much smaller. Standing in the middle, her outstretched hands just grazed the walls. To her surprise, they were solid, though made of darkness. The attendant walked out through the same darkness. She reached for his exit and, unsurprisingly, found a solid wall.

After a minute of standing, she sat down. After several more minutes, she lay down; the cell was barely big enough for that. Had she been taller, it would have been an uncomfortable fit. The floor was hard but not cold. It seemed to match her body’s temperature.

She came to, feeling like she had slept for hours. The room was no brighter. Her fear took several minutes to return, and, in its absence, she had the freedom to ponder her fate. The Black God would likely tend his son while she waited. And then what? Death? Torture?

Time passed like a tortoise - or perhaps it did not pass at all. There was no light with which to tell. She grew bored enough that it overwhelmed her fear. Eventually, she began to hope that surely, she had waited long enough. They would come now and take her away. They would question her, ask for co-conspirators, threaten her.

Any minute now.

She grew hungry and, by that, guessed that a third of a day had passed. The pangs grew and then subsided, returned, again and again, and then faded to a dull ache with occasionally painful flares. Her boredom turned to anger, hot and impotent. But even that faded as her imprisonment continued. A week had passed, by her crude estimates, when the thought first came to her that she could remain in that cell forever.