THRAZ:

Nordu drums her fingers with a soft weakness on the rusted table. Her bare toes curl into the dirt floor. She slouches sitting on a cracked barrel staring at the far wall. The paint of the mural is chipping and flaking away, but Nordu has stared at it so often she has it sealed in her mind. A single dim bulb hangs from the ceiling attempting to light up the otherwise gray room. The thin green vine trails along the ceiling from a hole in the corner. We share our banya among many desperate souls in the grotto like us.

I let out an exasperated breath. “Nordu, please say something.”

She has been silent for a week now, a week with not a single sound. I can’t stand to see my sister this way. Especially when I’m powerless to help her. I run my calloused fingers through my grimy hair and grunt in frustration. “Nordu. It’s me, your brother. We shared a womb for sun’s sake. Please say something.”

She stares at the wall. Nothing. I stand up from the table and walk across the cramped room. Anxiety swallows me while I pace atop the packed dirt beneath my feet. It’s driving me crazy that I can’t do anything, I can’t fix her.

I hear a quiet hum from the bed and step over to sit at the foot. Coarse blankets peel down as little as possible revealing two squinting, tired, gold eyes. I force a strained smile.

A quiet, weak voice asks me “Is she any better?”

I shake my head. “No Kyna. Go back to sleep.”

Those big golden eyes glare. “She’s my sister too.”

I purse my lips and nod. “I know. But I need you rested and feeling well.”

She keeps the blanket pulled to her chin and sits up. Her fluff of untamed green hair stands out with great contrast to the surrounding grunge. Her cheeks, although fixed on a round bone structure, are gaunt. Dark circles droop under her eyes. She’s only fourteen years old but she looks so sickly. My heart clutches with guilt.

Kyna extends a thin hand and pulls me under the blankets with her. I cocoon us inside as best I can and pull her close to keep the heat in. She doesn’t have much ability to stay warm lately. The thin little thing. We’ve all been on our own for four years now. Our parents, and brother, are long dead and our family is broken. Of course, isn’t everyone’s?

Kyna sniffs and wrinkles her nose with revulsion. “What’s cooking?”

I push aside my last scrap of pride. “It’s our dinner. It’s almost done.”

She eyes me with skepticism. “What is it? It doesn’t smell like bay grass.”

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I let out a sigh. “It’s not. It’s fish.”

Her eyes shoot open wide. With shock and disgust, she asks “Fish? From the pier?”

I pinch her tiny thin arm but all I’m able to grab is skin. “Hey. Don’t be like that. It’s food. Stop being such a snoot.”

She pauses, her voice is soft and quiet. “Brin? Is it that bad for us?”

I swallow hard and nod. “For now. But don’t worry. I heard some people say that it can taste pretty good, and if not, you get used to it.”

The skinny pile of bones lets out a pouting breath. “It’s the food of our food. Ughn, gross.”

I let out a quiet chuckle. My hands still reek of the skinned fish I plucked from the barrels at the port. The prism fish, a beautiful aquatic painted with unique scales. The scales once dried out harden like crystal. They’re hung in frames over banya bulbs which amplify the light and throw rainbow patterns to the walls. I’ve heard of the big brilliant chandeliers in Safehaven. They fill the room with more light and color than we can imagine. We don’t have many chandeliers in Thraz. It’s ironic that in such an ugly city beauty is our export.

The fish itself is useless, usually the bay grass eats it. During hard times, which is all the time, the skinned meat is tossed into barrels and left on the pier for the fraught and famished. Like us. Desperate times lead to desperate measures. Though desperation may as well be the very motto here. We’re all a bunch of desperate souls trying to survive, knowing if we leave these walls we won’t. The thought enters my mind of joining one of the pirate gangs that lurk along the pier. But what would I do with Kyna? I can’t leave her, or Nordu, not yet.

My mind travels back to dusk this evening. The fishermen had finished their day of toiling, the sky was gray and cloudy. The blue rays from Onay were trying to break through casting a surreal glow over the world. The breeze was bitter and cold. I stood on the creaking boards of the pier looking into the barrel. The water in front of me was an eerie gray green color.

I could see swishing pods of dark blue poking from the surface far into the distance. Bay grass pods. They litter the surface of the water bobbing with the gentle waves. It grows so well it sells as a cheap food. It eats all sorts of fish and other swimmers that flit by its small but dangerous pods. It doesn’t taste good, but it’s kept us alive with all the nutrition we need. Now we can’t even afford that.

I had heard footsteps and saw a mob of frenzied people making their way to the many barrels. Some hobbled, some were dashing, and some carried infants on their backs. I reached into the barrel and loaded my sack with nine fish. Then left before the full crowd arrived. Fights have broken out on the peir over free food. Little in this city comes without a price.

I peel myself from Kyna and approach the oil stove pressed against the far wall. I flick the glass canister above it; it’s almost empty. If we run out, we’ll lose our way to cook food and heat our apartment. Tension rises in my chest; I remember the argument I had with Hather the last time I went to buy oil. The prices are too high, but then again prices are always high in lune. When the temperature drops like it has it’s difficult for the farmers to keep their veridim alive. The city emergency stores of oil have already been sold to the merchants, and their supplies are dwindling. We need to hope they make it until the warm comes back.

It’s taking everyone’s full effort to keep alive. Father Sky curse this terrible season.

I place the cooked fish on the dented metal plates and put one in front of Nordu knowing she won’t touch it. She doesn’t acknowledge the food; she just stares at the wall. I take the other two plates back to the bed and huddle back under the blankets with my little sister.

She wrinkles her nose and gags with theatrical drama. I flick her in the forehead. “Suns Kyna. Just eat it. You’re so skinny I’ll be able to see through you soon.”

She lets out a breath and picks at the fish. Her fingers pull off a long string of golden flesh and pop it into her mouth. I laugh at her facial expression as she swallows with wincing effort.

“I don’t think that taste will ever go away.” She whines with a cringe.

I pinch off a piece of fish and toss it into my mouth. It’s oily and slick. Soft, juicy, and sort of smoky. I nod. “You know it’s not that bad. I like it.”

Kyna sighs. “I never thought I’d long for bay grass.”

I chuckle. Kyna gobbles down half her fish. Midway through her meal she lets out an abrupt, loud, belch. Her eyes widen and she sticks out her tongue. “Ugh! Don’t burp! The taste comes back!”

I laugh, at least we can find joy in something. My gaze drifts over to Nordu. Staring. Kyna’s voice, stronger now, speaks. “Do you think she’s going to make it?”

I shrug. “I don’t know Kyna. If she keeps up like this she might not. The only time I can get her to even drink is if I force her.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think she’s coming back to us Brin.”

My voice falls to a whisper. “I know. I don’t think she is either.”

Her young voice chokes trying and failing to hold back tears. “Do you think this happens to everyone when their bondmate dies?”

My voice is solemn and heavy with grief. “I don’t know. Nordu and Yin were bondmates before the accident. That’s a long time. Maybe after a while, without each other you-“

Kyna weeps in a whisper. “Die.”