Three months ago, Hssyri River

I cradled my injured jaw and braced myself against the wall as the ship rocked. The faint sound of rain drummed against the deck above me, and the whole aazh’kaa rocked and creaked with the wind. The merchant ship was heading up the Hssyri all the way to Ess’Sylantziis, and Kyrae had gotten us passage using the last of our money.

She was somewhere else in the dark, nearby but behind one crate or another. I pushed a rolled rug away from falling on me and tried to drift back to sleep. My jaw throbbed angrily. We’d managed to get it looked at by a street chirurgeon, and as long as I was gentle, I was told it’d heal.

I wondered how long healing would take as another gust of wind rocked the aazh’kaa, bumping me into the hull and lancing another nail of pain through my skull. The pain, and Kyrae’s absence, kept me from truly sleeping. A blessing in disguise, as I now dreaded the black, cold void that lurked behind closed eyes.

Since the day I killed Nyss, there’d been a wall between me and Kyrae. I guess it’d been there longer, maybe, but I just hadn’t seen it. And I didn’t know who built it: me or her. All I did know is that we were both trying to tear it down, stone by stone.

But we weren’t making much progress.

My thoughts drifted, consciousness fading to a daydream. The sight was familiar, both fond and painful. I hadn’t had this dream in months, but I hardly registered that as I was.

Instead, I was a young kid again, at the orphanage in a shabby part of Ess’Siijiil.

***

“Ky-rae! Ky-rae!” the other kids chanted mockingly.

Kyrae, younger and smaller, was surrounded by a group of other orphanage kids, mostly lamia. Their tails formed a ring around my sister.

“That’s a stupid name!” one big ke’lania kid said. She slid forward and shoved Kyrae.

The small elf squeaked and fell to the ground, mud splashing up around her pants.

“You can’t just get to be a girl!” another one, a lania’el girl, shouted.

“I’m newbloom!” Kyrae shouted weakly back, struggling upright. “Don’t you know—”

“That’s just a dumb ea thing,” the ke’lania kid said dismissively. “You’re a boy—and you can’t just be a girl ‘cuz you want to!” She moved to shove Kyrae again, and the young elf plopped back down on the ground to avoid it.

She’d rather stay in the mud than get shoved again.

“Hey! Stop it!” I found myself yelling, dashing over to the group.

“What’re ya gonna do about it, ke’el,” the big one spat.

I hissed, stopping short. “I’m lania’el, and what does that even matter—”

The sting of the memory was getting stronger, and for a moment, my own, older thoughts intruded. Ke’el were mixed-bloods—ke’lania and lania’el together. I was a little big for a lania’el, but that didn’t mean I was ke’el. And even if I was, it’s not like ke’el were trying to be like hssen; they weren’t trying to copy them. The royal family were kelaniel, both “ke” and “el,” and it shouldn’t matter if other people were kinda like them!

“Ke’el! Ke’el!” the chanting of the kids brought me back into the memory.

All I needed to do was give Kyrae a chance to escape; I was bigger than she was and could take a hit. I’d felt really sorry for the elf, honestly. We had a lot in common, but I was lucky so far no one had noticed.

“You should mind your own business!” a third lamia, a boy, shouted.

The big ke’lania advanced on me, long tail ready to push into a tackle that’d bruise for weeks.

“Oooh, I know something!” the lania’el girl, a tiny, thin thing, spoke up.

Heads turned to her and she smiled wickedly, little fangs clicking down. “I saw somethin’ in the bath.”

No. Please no. How could she have? I always did the late chores, so I could go alone—I went in the river most of the time, too. How could she have seen?

“What was it?” the boy bully asked.

The ke’lania kept her eyes on me, pinning me down with a terrifying gaze. Behind them, Kyrae stood up slowly, mud running down her legs. Her hair was dirty, and we met eyes for a second. She probably looked a lot like I did—scared and hurt. But there was something else there—something stronger.

“Listen up,” the ke’lania girl hissed, flicking her whiplike tail-tip across my lower body.

“I saw her in the bath last night…” the lania’el girl started, slithering around the group while staring at me.

Last night? Oh no. One of the matrons had me go there—said I was filthy.

I thought of so many things to say, but in the moment, I’d been struck mute. Even now, in the haze of a daydream, I tightened around myself.

“…Or should I say him!” the lania’el finished triumphantly. “You’re just like him, aren’t you, ke’el!” the lania’el teased, drawing closer. “You’re like a fake ra’zhii, too! I saw ‘em. Saw your dicks pokin’ out of your tail!”

Shock passed through the crowd.

I tried to deny it—tried to say anything. All I did was hiss and hiccup. My one loose fang poked down and caught my lip. I remembered the taste of blood.

The amusement on the ke’lania’s face turned to fury at the lania'el girl's words. “You think you’re ra’zhii, bastard? You think a skinny, stupid ke’el like you is hssen?”

I’d done it now. I’d insulted royalty—the empress and her family, just by being what I was. I didn’t tell them I had more than my penises down there; if I wasn’t frozen in fear I might’ve in the moment. Might’ve made it a whole lot worse than a “guy pretending to be a girl.”

Kyrae was now totally forgotten—and she’d slipped away somewhere in the rush. Now though, I wasn’t staring down mocking faces. I was staring down murderous ones. For a brief, agonizing moment, the entire scene became clear through the haze of memory.

I tried to run. I tried to get away, to scream for help—to do anything. But I couldn’t.

And then they were on me.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Blows rained down, venom-less bites nicked at my upper body, and tails crushed my lower body, driving the air from all my lungs. I could hear blood rushing in my ears and feel my hearts beating frantically as the pain grew.

And then it had stopped.

Shouts rang out from the orphanage building into the yard. Footsteps pounded and tails slid as the other kids were pulled off me. When I got clear, I could barely see out of one eye. Blood slicked down my upper body, and my lower body had the sharp pains of broken ribs.

I didn’t remember much after that, except for one thing. Kyrae’s worried, dirt-streaked face was vibrant and detailed as she stood next to the adults she’d fetched.

***

Back on the ship, Kyrae had found a soft spot where a rug had unrolled between two crates. Less bothered by the rocking of the ship than her sister, the young elf had fallen asleep to the pattering of rain on the deck above.

Unlike her sister Issa, Kyrae could still dream. And right now, as cozy as her tired body was, her mind raced through the halls of a nightmare. One she was far too familiar with: the night she was kicked out of the orphanage and onto the streets.

That night hadn’t been something special to start with. It was a normal, humid night at the end of the rainy season, and stars broke through the scattered clouds. Kyrae had just slipped back into the hallway leading to the sleeping room with her prize: a bright purple pitahaya from the kitchen.

Her dinner had been taken again today, and she really needed something to eat. She hadn’t told Issa about her stealing—even as it had gotten worse. Sometimes she took things she didn’t need, but she tried not to. Since she hadn’t told Issa, her lamia friend wasn’t nearby.

And that meant she was vulnerable. Kyrae had snuck out with no one the wiser, or so she had thought. Here in this dark hallway with its immense, jagged floorboards and impossibly tall ceiling spun out of a twisting dreamscape, she held the glowing fruit close as she crept along.

Until, in the light of a moon that hadn’t ever been there, one of her tormentors stood illuminated. She didn’t remember most of the words—the dream changed form every time—but she remembered being thrown to the ground.

She remembered her old name, thrown at her again and again like a cudgel. She remembered the approaching susurration of scales on worn wood that announced the arrival of the director herself. And she remembered the deep voice of the director spitting her name in one, final blow.

From here, the dream spiraled off into wild directions. Different awful memories all blended together into a soup of bad emotion.

Outside the dream, Kyrae shivered and shook, slowly rousing her lamia sister from her fugue-like state. Scales slid toward her, and a warm body wrapped hers. The half-asleep Issa pushed back into the alcove, filling the space.

Kyrae relaxed against Issa’s scales, and her nightmares melted away, burned back by the better times, starting with later that same night.

***

I coiled protectively around Kyrae, and some of my tension relaxed. My jaw throbbed a little less intensely, and I settled back onto my coils. Still dreading sleep, my thoughts drifted again, eventually landing on the first time we’d slept together like this.

That was the day I’d left the orphanage.

I noticed in the morning that Kyrae was gone. No one would give me an answer if she was adopted or not. Some of the kids told me teasingly that she was kicked out for stealing. I didn’t believe them—I assumed she’d been framed.

I tried to talk to one of the orphanage matrons, but I wasn’t popular either; no one would adopt me and I ate a lot for a lania’el. Ever since the day the other kids had found out about me, I was a pariah—and I was made to sit with the boys. I wouldn’t have been comfortable even if they didn’t want me there and made that fact well known.

Kyrae had become my only friend, but now she was gone. We’d been forced together—the two most hated kids in the whole building. And we knew each other’s secrets—at least part of mine. I felt bad I hadn’t told her everything, but I just… couldn’t.

As the morning dragged on and the bullying—without Kyrae to watch out for me or me for her—got worse, I realized I couldn’t stay like this. I couldn’t just let her go.

Persistence paid off, and eventually one matron confirmed Kyrae had been kicked out for stealing. She’d been caught red-handed, she said.

I still didn’t believe them, although I did know that she shared food with me, even after getting her dinner stolen some nights. Could she really have…

It didn’t matter. She was kicked out now, on the streets and alone. Now, no one would ever take her to live somewhere nice. We’d talked about going together, being inseparable, even if we knew how unlikely that was. I was ke’el, and Kyrae was newbloom, and neither would get taken. Plus, we were different species—no one would adopt both of us at once.

So instead, we’d both hoped the other would find a happy home; maybe rescue ourselves someday.

That couldn’t happen anymore. Kids didn’t do well on their own. The few kids who came in after living outside for a long time usually went back out, or stayed forever without getting adopted. Most of them were meaner, too, but I’d heard a lot of stories that made me pity them. I’d been here as long as I could remember, and Kyrae’d come in early too, but not off the streets.

I couldn’t let Kyrae face being kicked out alone. There was no way they’d let me leave—and I didn’t want to wait for a chance to escape. The best option I had was to get in a bad enough fight or steal. I’d seen plenty of street kids thrown out for either.

Stealing would’ve been better, but I wanted revenge for Kyrae. This time, when the bullies surrounded me after midday meal, I struck first. I didn’t have a hope against the bigger ke’lania, but she wasn’t with the group today.

Instead, I went after the lania’el who’d hurt me the most.

Truthfully, I didn’t remember much of the fight—it was a blur of tails, sharp nails, and fangs. I did remember that I won, probably by size alone. My opponent had lain on the floor, bruised and bleeding, when an orphanage matron arrived to break up the fight. Seeing her now, in this memory, I couldn’t help but overlay Nyss’s dead, wide eyes, over that girl’s frightened, furious ones.

Without realizing it, I shuddered hard enough to rouse Kyrae.

Still, my daydream continued, brighter than before, although I remembered shivering and sobbing. I also remembered the small surge of triumph when I’d found out I hurt her bad enough to need a healer from the Temple. Combined with my belligerent attitude and the disdain of many of the adults due to my status as a “fake ra’zhii” and “ke’el,” I got my wish and was dumped out on the streets before nightfall.

My bruises hurt, but they were a good kind of pain.

I found Kyrae just after sunset, in a hollow under a big tree near the riverbank not far from the orphanage. She was crying when I saw her, and she only cried harder when she saw me.

We were together, but we’d both failed our promises to help each other, she’d said through tears and stutters.

“But we’re together, right? That’s gotta count for something!” I remembered my insistence.

“You didn’t…” I remember how she’d narrowed her eyes.

I remembered my big dumb smile, wide like only a lamia could make. “I did. I got the one that framed you. They said the Temple needs to come heal her, I got her so good.”

“Issa…” Kyrae pulled away. “I… they didn’t frame me. I stole it, I really did. I stole a lot of things.”

My smile faltered. “Why’d you steal?”

“I needed food…” Kyrae looked down at the ground, drawing squiggles in the mud with a stick.

I slid closer to her, looping my lower body loosely around behind us. I remembered all the times she’d shared food with me, and all the times hers, mine, or both had been taken by the other kids. “That’s a pretty good reason, Kyrae. Anyone would steal if they needed to eat, right?”

“Yeah, but… I guess yeah,” she looked back up at me, eyes wet.

“I think it’s fine!” I countered. “I think you’re a really nice, noble person, Kyrae! You saved me—more than once.”

“But—”

I shook my head.

Kyrae continued slower, more deliberately. “But… what are we? We’re just two kids no one wants—and now we’re two kids no one wants with no home to go to.”

I pulled a little closer and tried to think. Kyrae was always better at that than I was, but I could see how she shook. I had to find the answer myself—I had to show her I could. “I think…” I started slowly, building up speed and confidence. “I think we’re more than friends, or allies. I think we’re like family, right? Because we have each other. What if we were sisters?”

I thought about what we had in common—the common reason we were bullied, and the common insults thrown our way. Kyrae must have too, because I remember how her emerald eyes got a little brighter, a little clearer. And I remember how our gazes met and the understanding that passed between two people with nothing left but each other.

“No.” I shook my head, scattering tears.

“No? Issa?” Kyrae asked, suddenly confused.

I smiled all the way, my one errant fang poking down. “We are sisters, Kyrae.”

I remembered how her confusion turned to smiles, then laughter. I remembered watching the starbugs by the riverbank until we both fell asleep, curled up in my coils.

***

“We are sisters, Kyrae,” Issa had said confidently.

Kyrae remembered her then-new sister’s smile. Her innocent, dopey smile. She’d gotten kicked out just for her; had gotten revenge that wasn’t needed. As she roused from slumber, she snuggled against familiar emerald scales, smooth in the right places, but rough in others. She only barely realized her sister had curled around her before sleep took her again.

Maybe, she thought, maybe things are going to turn out alright in Ess’Sylantziis.