NOVUS

The day Novus Karachi breaks free, the sun has vanished.

The world has transformed. Darkness seeps into every corner, and silence envelops the air. Coldness dominates and all the joy, love and beauty that existed yesterday—fades. It is almost as if they have died.

It seems like a world without a soul.

Vanya’s voice echoes in his mind, sharp and clear: “The world doesn’t have a soul, fool.”

He slowly ascends the wall, his hands barely gripping the crumbling old stones. It is dangerously easy to escape but no one ever did. They are all fearful of what is beyond it.

The slums have always been looked at that way—a saviour, but Novus never understands it. He doesn’t want to be in a box with four walls, gaining on him. Why are the fae favoured so much to the elves—? At the end of the day, both of them could bleed.n

Guards rush towards him, firing their pistols in a frenzy. But he doesn’t stop. He is weary of gazing mournfully at the same wall. He is weary of staying for someone who died.

“Novus!” Alina bursts in, and gazes at him with a mix of dread and defiance. She has aged beyond her years, her blonde hair streaked with grey and her face lined with sorrow. Her eyes are still blue, but they have lost their sparkle, as if they have seen too much of the world’s cruelty.

( Should he leave behind the only person who he considered like his mother ? )

But for once, Novus doesn’t feel the same obedience to her.

“Please don’t—don’t jump!” She shatters her cold frontier, and he sees the tears in her eyes.

“I’m not going to jump.” He promises her, and promptly jumps off the wall.

**

The crow watches Novus every night.

His glossy feathers reflect the starlight, and his beady eyes follow Novus’s every single move. Novus fears to cast some light with the bird watching, but as he lies beneath the stars, he feels a sudden urge to talk to it.

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“Hey, you.” he says. The crow stares at him warily.

Vanya’s voice fills his head again: “You’re talking to a bird. How pathetic,” but he can almost hear the smile in her voice.

You’re dead. Leave me alone.

He turns towards the crow, his head resting on his arm.

“You ever think about a person who’s not there anymore? Like they just fill your head all the time, you can’t think about anything else?”

The crow looks at him, clearly saying: Dude. I’m a bird.

“Right,” he mutters. “Well, I do.” He looks back at the stars, relaxing his back against the grass, counting the stars silently in his head as he talks.

“There was this girl. Vanya.” He tells the bird. “She’s gone.”

Usually, that is where Novus stops. Saying the fate of the person who haunts his mind always silences people. Their eyes fill with pity and all the time, one thing comes out of their mouth—

“I’m sorry.”

Why are they sorry? They didn’t even know Vanya, nor play a role in her death. Yet, this is their only response before they change the topic. Novus stops talking to them and they soon fade away as well.

But this time, Novus keeps talking and the crow keeps listening.

“She was…well, she was Vanya. There was no way to describe her.” He points out a cluster of stars that glimmer in the sky.

“She was named after that constellation.” He laughs roughly. “Or rather, like she used to say, they were named after her.”

A beat of silence, and Novus feels his past more than ever.

“It’s so strange to think of her as my past. She always lived in the future, y’know? Always making plans. She had this idea that she would escape. Guess I made her proud.”

( That was a lie. Vanya would probably just grumble about how loud he’s being. )

The crow caws softly. It sounds pitying and anger fills Novus’s blood.

“I don’t want your pity,” he snaps as he clenches his fists. He shifts to face the crow again.

“I don’t miss her. It just feels weird to be here without her. It was her own foolish choice that got her killed,” he says harshly.

The crow just looks at him unapologetically.

“She sacrificed herself.” He admits.

It’s all quiet. His grief is so silent, it’s like bleeding from an unstitched wound. And he can almost see the blood, seeping through his fingers and enveloping his arms. It fits him like a glove.

“I miss her.” He whispers. It is soft, but he believes the crow hears it.

The crow cries out sharply into the night, like a tribute to Vanya.

**

Air fills her lungs, and she opens her eyes. Her heart finally beats and she can feel the wind weaving through her hair.

And for the first time in six months, Vanya breathes.