With each season passing, I find my patience waning. Seeing a gang of so-called Mages humiliate a Drakh in the middle of the square while the city guard did nothing but watch, I just couldn’t stand it anymore. A moment later, they tried to detain me, accusing me of assaulting members of the Guild.

They didn’t even look at the man who was bleeding out on the ground, whimpering, his body still curled up to defend himself. I nearly lost it after confronting one of the guards. “He’s just a scaly, why are you defending him?” It’s moment like these that make isolating myself from society more and more tempting.

Excerpt from Of righteous Evil, chapter four: the Drakh written by Elusco, bane of the Sadmora. Published in 540 a.f, banned throughout Ceraviehl in the same year. No known copies exist.

Silas did his best to ignore Zaya walking beside him. Who did she take him for? There was no way he would try to rob her family by escaping with the gems. The day before, the elder had asked them to buy an assortment of spices and herbs from Kuzant in return for letting the family stay in their village, saying she knew a vendor who would accept their crystals as payment.

The narrow eyes and foreign features of Nergui and Batu would stand out too much for them to be allowed entry to the city, and Silas reluctantly agreed to make the trip for them if they gave him one of the crystals in return. It was also a good way to make sure they stayed within the territory of the Kila’tor. Zaya, however, had still insisted on coming. She didn’t have such prominent features like her parents and might be able to pass as an easterner as well, but it was still risky. If he was caught trying to enter the city with a barbarian, he would be done for.

The goodbye from Batu and Nergui had left Silas with an odd feeling in his chest. He had come to hold a grudging respect for Nergui. She was a warrior and not a bad one, at that. Silas just wondered what her true goal had been when she invited him to travel with her family. He’d probably never find out. A pang of pain went through his chest when he’d seen Zaya giving both of her parents a fierce hug.

Nergui had even tried to hug him as well. Silas had wished them goodbye with a nod of his head. He’d already turned his back on them when Gnarly jumped from his shoulder and wrapped himself around Batu’s and Nergui’s legs as he creaked at them, receiving a few pads on his head in return. Silas loved his friend, but Gnarly was way too trustful.

One of the archers, Silas had already forgotten his name, now led them back down the mountains towards Kuzant. It was well into midday when they reached the foot of the mountain.

“I will wait for you here. If you’re not back in two days, I will be gone. Understood?”

Silas and Zaya nodded. Gnarly creaked.

Kuzant was not a large city, sitting just before the southern mountain pass to the Endless Desert. It had served as the main point of defense to the lands of Ceraviehl during the Drakhonian war, its proud fortification standing tall even now. Fields of barley and wheat ranged as far as the eye could see, their yellow stalks softly swaying in the wind.

A steady stream of people coming from the north made their way towards the city. Some barely had anything on them, their eyes as empty as their pockets. Others were visibly wounded or limping, leaning on their companions for support. With most of the east already conquered by the barbarians, Silas didn’t want to know how many people hadn’t been able to flee from the war, killed in the barbarian’s crazed conquest. All of it to fulfill some kind of prophecy. Rage bubbled in his chest as he let his eyes roam over the flow of refugees.

“You see this? This is all on you and your people,” he spat, gesturing towards the people trying to enter the city.

“Creak!” Gnarly pulled at his hair.

Zaya whipped her head around to scowl at him. “Me and my people?” A stone hit him in the side. “Idiot boy. My people do this,” she pointed to the brand sitting on her forehead, her eyes wide with emotion.

“Why don’t you tell them that and listen to what they have to say?” Silas let his eyes roam over the mass of refugees. “I’m sure they’ll understand. Whether you like it or not, that thing on your forehead won’t change who you are or what your people did.”

Zaya’s beige skin turned a furious red. “Not be my people, Nura Kai. I am Hanguhn, one without tribe. I am like animal for them. I have no people. No one.”

She may be without a tribe, but she was still one of them. Silas had no doubts where her allegiance lied, if she had to choose. He had to be careful to not forget that. Gnarly disagreed, but he had been liking Zaya too much from the start. His wooden companion might be a good friend, but Silas couldn’t trust him to know the difference between a Ceraviehlian and a barbarian.

Kuzant was even more imposing up close. Huge ballistae were placed on each of the round towers that made up the corners of the city, with thinner, higher watchtowers in between. Soldiers stood on the walls in regular intervals, surveying the line of people waiting to enter the city. A wide moat surrounded the walls on every side, and at least a dozen soldiers guarded the gate. Silas froze as he saw two of them bearing the falcon on their uniform, marking them as Invokers.

“We can’t just go in.” The guards seemed to be taking a fee from everyone trying to enter, and if they saw Zaya’s face and talked with her, they would know.

“You Gajou be weird. Why take money from people?” she pointed to those at the front lines, each of them handing the guards a few coins.

“Well, because it’s not their city.”

“So one tribe no help other tribe, even if need?”

“They’re not different tribes, just folks from other parts of Ceraviehl.”

“No understand. All Ceraviehl be one tribe?”

“No. We don’t have tribes.”

Zaya gaped at him like he had just told her the sun went up in the west. “What you say?”

“It’s rather complicated.”

“This I see,” Zaya replied with a sage nod.

Silas studied the long line of refugees. Near the end of the line, an old farmer sat on a single horse tied to a cart filled with woolen sacks. “The farmer there might let us sit on his cart if we’re lucky. I don’t know if we’re getting through the gates any other way.”

“So we ask farmer.”

“Yes, but we can’t just ask him. We need a cover story.”

“What be cover story?”

Silas waved his hand. “Not important. Alright, here’s the plan. We come from Alíd, a city nearby, and seek to meet distant members of our family in the city. Be careful to always hide your face. If they see you, we’re dead. Oh, and you’re mute.”

“What be mute?”

“Means you can’t talk.”

Zaya’s furrowed her thin brows. “You stupid? I can talk.”

Silas pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “But if they hear you talk, they will know you’re not from around here and want to see your face.”

“Ah. I understand. I no talk.”

“Yes. You no talk. To be safe, you should probably also put a bit of dirt on your face or something.”

“Listen to wind too much? You put dirt on your face. Maybe then be less ugly.”

“Look, if they see that you’re a barbarian—”

“Adjhin’tor,” Zaya interrupted him. “Barbarians be you milky skins, who not help other people.”

“Will you shut up already? I don’t care what you call yourself! If they see you, we’re dead, do you understand?” Silas pointed at the Artists standing near the heavy drawbridge at the entrance of the city. “Those are the Legion’s Invokers, the same people who we fought a month ago. Just do it,” Silas insisted.

Zaya squinted her narrow eyes. “I remember this.”

“You were the one who wanted to come, don’t put this on me.”

Smudging her face with dirt, she put the cowl over her head, muttering something Silas couldn’t make out.

“You will also have to hide, my friend,” he said to Gnarly who still sat on his shoulders.

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Amber eyes pressed together in concentration, Gnarly began to shrink before his very eyes. Silas gaped at his friend. “You can do that?”

Head held high, Gnarly creaked once before jumping into the inner folds of his cloak and settled within one of its pockets. “You have to teach me.”

Silas felt Gnarly patting his chest. “Creak, creak.”

“Remember not to talk,” Silas reminded Zaya as they approached the farmer. “Good day, sir!” Silas began.

The old man tapped his wide straw hat in greeting. “What can I do for you, son?”

“My sister and I have distant family in Kuzant and wanted to ask you if we could take a seat on the back of your cart? They don’t know we’re coming, because our family in Alíd is…” Silas looked down as he stopped to speak. He didn’t need to pretend to paint an image of loss over his face.

“You and your sister can take a seat if you want, but I don’t have enough money to pay the fee for you, as well. The harvest was bad this year, you see, and after the barbarians raided everything…”

“We can pay, no problem,” Silas hurriedly took a few coppers out of the purse Tom had given him.

“Well, hop on, then!” The farmer said, giving them a friendly smile. “What’s your names?” he asked them after they had made themselves comfortable among the various sacks of grain.

“I’m called Silas, sir.” Zaya opened her mouth, but Silas quickly hit her on the shoulder. “And this is… Maria. She’s mute, however.”

“Oh, the poor thing. But do me a favor and cut the sir. I’m Howard,” the man introduced himself, tapping his wide straw hat again.

“Nice to make your acquaintance, Howard.”

Howard chuckled. “You know, boy, I had a nephew just like you. Always polite, couldn’t have hurt a soul even if his life depended on it. I see a bit of you in him, if I’m honest.”

Silas didn’t answer. Reality faded as he saw himself looking down on a man that repeatedly pleaded formercy, his feet frantically trying to get away from Silas. Without a moment of hesitation, his spear struck the man right in the chest. The man’s cries turned into a wet gurgle as he took his last breath. For a heartbeat, Silas’ own reflection stared back at him from within the man’s dying eyes, the image not that of himself, but a monster whose face was distorted by hate, its features unrecognizable from those of his own.

Zaya pinched him in the leg, abruptly bringing him back to the present. Howard didn’t seem to have noticed, now telling him how much simpler things had been just a few decades ago and continued to chatter as the cart slowly made its way to the gate of Kuzant.

“State your name and business.” The guard droned, barely looking at Howard.

“Howard Cartwright, want to sell my goods after my farm near Alíd burned down. You see, times have been—” The guard waved his hand. “And the children in the back?”

Howard paused for a moment. “My grandchildren Silas and Maria. They’re to help me with the customers and learn a thing or two. After everything that’s happened, I figured it might be a good idea to—”

“Go on in,” the guard interrupted him again, waving Howard through.

Silas tried not to hold eye contact with any of the guards as the cart rolled past the gate. One of the Invokers frowned at him and opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it soon after with a shake of his head.

“Thank you,” Silas said to Howard after they were out of earshot.

“Don’t you worry, lad. Folks are entirely too suspicious these days. One word of advice, though: I heard the city guard is getting a little anxious will all these refugees flooding in, so better keep your head down.”

Howard eventually stopped in a large square, laying one arm over the wooden backrest as he turned around. “I will be heading to the merchant’s guild to get the papers and all that. Do you kids know where to go?”

Silas jumped down from the cart. “Yes, thank you,” he assured the old man, handing him a copper.

“Keep it, son, you need it more than I do. Buy your family something nice with it, will you?”

Silas tried to smile, but only managed a twitch of his lips. Nodding, he turned away, throwing one last look over his shoulder. The old man watched them go with sad eyes and tipped his hat once more before spurning the horses on, their hooves clattering against the cobblestones as the cart continued on its way.

It was already way past midday, so Silas and Zaya decided to not waste any time and look out for the shop. The city was bustling with people. Food vendors stood in every corner, hailing their wares as if their lives depended on it. Silas watched as a group of three people in uniform walked up to one of the vendors, demanding some sort of document.

Although he couldn’t make out the woman’s answer over the noise of the crowd, he saw two of the men yanking her by the arms and taking her with them. None of the people walking by spared her a second glance. The stand was plundered in a matter of heartbeats as a group of scrawny-looking children darted out of a corner, disappearing as fast as they came.

According to the elder, the shop was supposed to be in the eastern part of the city, so Silas and Zaya asked one of the vendors, a middle-aged man with a large, pointed beard that hung to his chest. “Will you also buy something?”

Silas sighed. “I’ll take one of the meat pies.”

“Here you go, kid. Go down this street and take the second to the left. When you’ve reached the market square, you will want to look for the signs in front of each street telling you which goods you can find there. The nearer to the wall the shops are, the cheaper they get. There are also some situated right beside the wall, but I wouldn’t go there, if I were you. Some seriously shady things are going on there, so you better steer clear of it.”

Silas cursed as he made his way towards the wall, not even noticing how Zaya snatched the meat pie right out of his hands. The farther they got from the main market square, the more run down the shops looked. The streets got smaller, and the smell of feces and rot only increased as they kept walking. Of course, the elder had forgotten to mention that small detail. Supposedly, the shop was right under one of the tall watchtowers, situated between two other, larger buildings. Silas crossed a corner, hugging his cloak tighter around himself. Zaya followed him silently, cowl pulled over her head to hide her features.

Shadows huddled on each side of the narrow alley. One of them greedily inhaled something from a stained pipe, her eyes rolling to the back of her eye as she passed out and slouched against the wall. The pipe was immediately snatched by another man who began sucking on it, his fingers clutching the pipe so hard his knuckles turned white.

Silas quickened his steps. A figure suddenly stood in front of them. “Give me your coin if you want to live.” Gaunt features and hollow eyesockets marked the man’s face, his lanky arms clutching a rusty knife. Zaya’s head shot up, her gaze focusing on the man. “I’ll take that cl—” A brick suddenly hit his chest with such force the man crashed into the wall of the narrow alley and collapsed.

Zaya took Silas’ hand and pulled him away, only stopping after they had turned another corner. “Good reaction,” Silas huffed, peering over his shoulder to make sure they weren’t being followed.

“Look,” she said, pointing to the small building that sat right under one of the tall watchtowers.

Silas grimaced as he saw the house. A triangle set in three interlocking circles had been carved into the wooden frame above the door, exactly as the elder had described it to them. Yet, it didn’t look like a shop at all, and if he wouldn’t have known what to look for, he never would have found it in the first place. The house leaned precariously onto the high stone wall, its bleached wooden boards cracked in more places than he could count.

There was no sign above the doorframe. However, going into another shop and pulling a bunch of unattuned crystals out of his pocket wasn’t an option, either. People would ask too many questions. Unattuned, affinity-free crystals only existed in the Steppes, and nobody in Ceraviehl knew how to make them. This was their only choice.

The door groaned as Silas pushed it open. Long wooden shelves hung on either side of the wall, the candles placed on them dripping wax onto the rough planks. The wood creaked with every step, and Silas cringed at the noise filling the otherwise silent room. A long counter stood in the back, various jars, papers, and small boxes on top of it. Behind it sat a short, bald man, his long and wiry fingers holding a faintly glowing cube-like object before his right eye. Paper-white skin stretched itself over his bones, seeming as if it were to rip open at any given moment.

Silas closed the door.

The man’s left eye flickered to him while his right eye continued to stare at the object in his hands, making Silas take a step back. While it looked like a normal eye at first, it held something that made him consider leaving right there and then. Silas waited for the man to say something. The man’s gaze wandered towards Zaya, seemingly intent on staring through the cowl hiding her face. The girl lowered her head, moving a step closer to Silas.

“We came to sell something.”

Both eyes focused on him, bloodless lips forming a slow smile. Thick candles flickered in the still room. Silas noticed the shopkeeper didn’t have eyebrows or lashes, either. Fishing one of the crystals out of the pocket, Silas laid it on the counter.

“How much can you give us for this?” he asked, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

Yellow, pointed nails gripped the small crystal between two fingers. Silas glanced around the room, feeling watched despite the man’s gaze now being focused on the crystal. The room was shrouded in shadows, the candles doing nothing to pierce the creeping darkness that gathered in the corners like flowing liquid. Zaya seemed to share his mood. Even Gnarly was unusually alert, shifting below his cloak.

“A pure crystal? Quite a rare find, I must say. I’ll give you two Ands for one,” he said, pulling two silver coins out of a drawer and letting them roll over one of his wiry hands.

“Six.” The man was obviously trying to rip him off. Silas might not know how much those were worth exactly, but two Ands couldn’t be enough for something like that.

The man huffed, flashing two more coins in his other hand. “I’ll give you four, but only because you seem like a nice kid.” Corners of his mouth almost reaching his ears, the man’s eyes remained unchanged.

“I have two more.” Silas laid the rest of the crystals on the counter. “I’ll settle for one Cer and four Ands for all of them.”

“Three Ands.”

Silas hesitated. It still felt like a rip-off.

The man’s face went expressionless in an instant, his eyes boring into Silas. “Better not push your luck.”

Zaya, who had been standing still until now, suddenly peered into the right corner of the shop, her body tensing up. The darkness was as impenetrable as before, but for the first time, Silas realized it wasn’t empty. Someone stood there, completely motionlessly, a black cloak concealing every part of their body. Shadows rippled of the tall figure like minuscule tentacles, creeping along the walls. A candle flickered, then died.

“Th-Three Ands it is.”

The man’s smile returned. His pointed nails clacked on the wood as the rest of the coins were pulled out. “I knew you would see reason.”

Silas quickly took the coins and turned to leave. “Ah, and one more thing,” the man said after they had opened the door, the stale air of the city greeting them. “You’ve never been here.”

The door slammed shut, and for once, Silas didn’t mind the smell at all as he took a deep breath.

Zaya shook her head at the inconspicuous building. “I no like this city.”

Silas grumbled in agreement. “Let’s find a tavern and get the supplies early tomorrow so we can head back. I really want to get out of here.”

They eagerly made their way back towards the center of the city, away from the walls and their narrow, dark alleys. Neither said a word as they hurried through the streets, both eager to leave the shop behind them. They had just rounded another corner when a desperate, high-pitched scream from the alley ahead of them caught their attention. Silas and Zaya shared a look. A muffled creak came from Silas’ chest. Feet running in sync, they headed towards the source of the noise, only to stop immediately as soon as they saw what was before them.

Silas reached for his bow.