Charlotte shielded her eyes looking up to the sky. Cal pumped his wings with little effort, flying in place high above their heads. Micah’s bureau hung from his long tail by a latch. The chest swayed but was secure, the Murr little affected by its weight. For several minutes, she watched him in wonder while Micah consulted a map. The dirt road in the middle of which they now stood stretched in a straight line from east to west, devoid of travelers in both directions.

Charlotte looked left, then right. Placing a hand on her hip, she gave him a grieved look. “Don’t tell me you plan on walking.”

“Impractical,” he replied.

He continued tracing his fingers along the map, studying various routes and calculating distance, time, and other factors. He noticed the sound of Charlotte’s stamping foot and looked up. She now had hands on both hips.

“So are you going to magically pull a wagon and horses out of your pocket or something?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Well then how are we—wait, what?”

Micah reached to a pocket in his jacket and produced a white disk resembling a coaster, thin as paper but shiny and hard. He flipped it through the air between them. The disk stopped by itself, floating waist high. The shiny surface expanded before them like pulled taffy, stretching into a wide curve.

“It’s a seat!” she exclaimed, rubbing the smooth surface. “Does this fly?”

In lieu of an answer, Micah tugged one of his crystal earrings. Blue flames exploded around his body, twisting several times before leaving him to engulf the seat. Charlotte yelped, backing away. The flames magnified and split apart, forming eight horses with glowing white eyes and translucent legs. The beasts afire formed a half-circle around the wagon, onto which Micah climbed without hesitation.

He offered her a hand. “Well?”

Fear left her as quickly as it came, and she took it, squealing with pleasure as she climbed aboard. Her legs hanging over the seat kicked excitedly, but the chariot remained steady in the air. Two reins of blue fire extended from the flames kicking up off the two middle horses, and Micah took them, giving them a quick snap. The horses whinnied and took off. Despite no attachment to the seat, they pulled it along the road at a fast, smooth pace. Instead of the clackity-clack of horse hooves and wooden wheels, however, only the sounds of burning fire and rushing wind met their ears. The horses’ legs were fluid, expanding in sometimes great arcs to consume grass and anything else burnable along the road. Cal followed from above.

“Holy crickets!” Charlotte said with unbridled excitement. She clapped her hands together as if watching a play. “Is this a summoning?”

“No, it’s fire magic.”

“What happens if we come across someone in the road, though?”

“Then I’ll do this.” He snapped the reins hard, and the horses neighed, snorting streams of blue fire. They leapt in unison, shooting into the air. Charlotte shrieked in delight as they sailed over the treetops. She took his arm when they began to descend. The impact was nonexistent, and they smoothed right back into a floating ride through the marshes.

“That was fun!” she said, keeping hold of him. “Oh, do it again. Do it again!”

“Okay.”

For several miles, they bounced down the road in great leaps, horses flailing in blue fiery arches. With each new hurdle, the strange girl sitting next to him issued even shriller cries of glee, laughing with such abandon she started to cry. Finally, Charlotte relented, gasping in fits of hiccups and giggles, and he slowed the creatures to their normal pace. She leaned against him, holding his arm close. His skin tingled where she touched him.

She calmed herself, swiping back wisps of blown hair. “I can’t imagine traveling any other way now,” she said. “That was exhilarating.”

“It’s my own magic. Unless I taught you, you would have to be with me.”

“Deal,” she said, smiling. He felt hot again. She cleared her throat and sat up straight. “So, I didn’t really question it until now, and tell me if this is a dumb question, but if we need to leave Carnel, why are we heading in the wrong direction?”

“Eventually we will head back east, but crossing the Strait of the Final Word will take planning. It’s the most heavily guarded body of water on earth for good reason. It’s the only practical way in or out of Carnel without resorting to a half-year-long journey by sea. If we went straight there without a plan, we would be caught in no time.”

“Oh. So then what is the plan?”

“We’re heading for Steamtown.”

“The ruins? Why?”

“Steamtown only looks abandoned, but the pipes underneath the city contain an intricate network of people and shops large enough to be considered a city all its own. I have many contacts there who owe me favors. We will find rest and information.”

“So why are we in a hurry? You said they’ll pick up our trail soon, but if we’re going in the complete opposite direction of what they expect, and we’re going to hide in an underground city you know well, why should we be worried?”

“Marshall sinKalem will be sent to find us.”

Charlotte scrunched her nose. “There’s that ‘sin’ again. What is that?”

“It’s a title that signifies a Black Son. ‘Sin’ is an old title for a master glassblower. The Black Sons became famous for their unusual glass techniques, and people began giving them the same title. It became tradition in time, regardless of one’s knowledge in the glass arts. I was born Micah Champlain. When I became a Black Son, my name became Micah sinChamplain.”

Charlotte smoothed her dress. “Well, where I come from, ‘sin’ has an entirely different meaning.”

“I’m assuming that’s a joke.”

She laughed. “Maybe it was destined we should be companions. I’m Goodsteel. You’re sinChamplain. Good and Sin. Right?”

“And that signifies what?”

“I don’t know. But it has to mean something.”

“I see.”

She paused. “Let me know if I get on your nerves,” she said, looking down into her lap. “I tend to do that sometimes.”

“Get on my nerves?” He thought about it for a moment. “What does that mean exactly?”

“You know. Annoy you.”

“Yes, but where did such a turn of phrase come from? It makes no sense.”

“Oh well, you see, a long time ago, an Avalon farmer by the name of Jeebes grew a legendary crop called ‘knerves’ spelt with a ‘k’. The vegetable had a sweet, sumptuous taste favored by the king, but eating too much of it caused you to become delusional. He sold knerves at a ridiculous premium until eventually, only the king could afford to buy them. Which, of course led to people trying to steal from him.”

“Naturally,” Micah said.

Charlotte lifted a finger. “To stop the thievery, Jeebes built himself a wall around his land, so high it reached to the clouds, or so the story goes. But somehow, he still kept losing his prized vegetables. For years, he never figured it out, and he became obsessed with trying to capture the thief, always muttering to himself, ‘He’s getting my knerves. He’s getting my knerves! I have to stop him, he’s getting my knerves.’” Charlotte laughed. “Well, it turns out, Jeebes was a sleepwalker, and every night, he got up and ate some of his own plants! In the morning, he’d wake up and see them gone. Coupled with the delusion, he eventually lost his mind. It took a long time, but doctors eventually figured out what was happening. They said, ‘He got his own knerves.’ and from then on, people used that phrase to explain when they were suspicious of something, but didn’t have a clue why. Over time, the phrase morphed into what we know today: being annoyed.”

“Interesting.” Micah hummed. “Very interesting, actually.”

“It’s also completely made up.”

He looked at her in surprise. She laughed again, squeezing his arm. “You’ve told me so many good stories in the short time we’ve known each other, I wanted to tell one for a change. I actually have no idea where that phrase comes from.”

“You could try searching for the actual story.”

“Darling, you’re going to learn sooner than later that I am far too lazy for such pursuits. For now, I’m satisfied. I turn all story-telling responsibilities back to you.”

“I’m starting to suspect I’ll have many more responsibilities placed on my shoulders before long.”

She smiled primly. “That’s why men were created with broad shoulders. Now, back to this Marshall character you spoke of. Should we be worried about him?”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Yes, very. Kalem was assigned by the king to serve Governor Riser. Riser rules the eleventh district of Carnel, which oversees security of the strait. This is why he was given command of two Sons. As I told you previously, only three Black Sons are left in the world – the third serves the king personally.”

“And he’s better than you?”

“Incorrect. Assuming you refer to levels of strength and capability, I am the superior of the three. But every Black Son is trained according to his strengths. Kalem is a tracker of unsurpassed ability. He will find us – it’s only a matter of time.”

Charlotte’s expression fell. “No matter what? Even with this head start? What are we going to do?”

“We outrun him. If we can get across the strait before he finds us, he might abandon pursuit. The governors have no authority outside Carnel.”

She trembled against his arm. “I’m sorry I’ve gotten you into this mess, Micah.”

“I’m not sorry,” he said. She looked up at him in surprise. Even though she couldn’t see it, he smiled in reassurance. “And don’t worry about Kalem, at least for now. He will want you alive. It’s me he’s after.”

“Well, I’m not totally useless!” she exclaimed, mustering up a courageous face. Her right iris shined with a lavender glow now. “I have my eyes. And I’m not too bad with an Element Stone.”

Her confident words didn’t match the doubt creeping into her expression. She looked out over the moist grassland with a small frown and hugged his arm closer.

“Tell me about your magic,” he asked. “If that’s alright with you, I mean.”

“Of course. We’re in this together, right?” Smiling again, she placed a finger on her chin. “Now don’t quote me, because I learned a lot of what I know from the ones who held me captive. Until recently, I didn’t have any idea what I was capable of. My Moon Eyes are called that because I have the seven ocular abilities of Ursa and her six children.”

“The founders of the Avalon and South Carnel,” Micah said, nodding.

She shushed him. “Who’s telling the story here?”

“My apologies.”

“Ursa was the original possessor of the Inherent Magic we know as Foresight.” Charlotte pointed to her right eye. The entire pupil blazed purple. “But it was made famous because the Drifting Queen had it and mastered all its abilities. Although, now that I think about it, she had it in the left eye, as nearly all with the power do. Anyways, Foresight became Carnel’s most legendary power because of her – a symbol of the country’s strength. It’s rare, too. Apparently, only two others on earth right now have it besides me.”

“Yes, the other two are—”

“Shush! Well, Foresight is just one ‘phase’ of my eyes: the Full Moon. Ursa’s sons and daughter were born with unique phases of their own. From Full Moon, we go to Waning Gibbous.” Micah watched as a sliver of her normal eye color returned. “Then to Waning Half Moon.” When her iris split in half, this time the purple deepened to black and the blue faded to white, and the colors extended past the iris to consume her whole eye. The pupil became square.

Micah knew this one. He had seen it twice before. The Sealed Eye of Pegasus.

Heartbreaker.

He could hardly contain his interest. “So, what can they all do?”

“Honestly, I wish I could tell you, but I’ve only activated five of them, and I’ve only achieved the first level of three of those.”

“Which ones?”

“Waxing Crescent – I can speak to animals when that eye is open. Waxing Gibbous – I can sense when someone I’m looking at intends to do me harm. And Waning Half Moon – Heartbreaker. You know those.”

“What are the other two? Foresight is one, obviously.”

“Yes. I activated the Full Moon a long time ago, but it drains me so quickly that it’s nearly useless. The other is Waning Gibbous, but no matter how long I keep it activated, it doesn’t seem to do anything. And nobody at Soto Silver would tell me.”

Micah hummed, mind churning with ideas. “That leaves Waxing Half Moon and Waning Crescent still to activate. I know that the Waxing Half Moon is Nearsight. It grants the user the ability to see about a second or so into the future, but like Foresight, it requires a great amount of training to achieve Level One.”

“And I’m not very good at training. I’ve never been that kind of girl.”

Micah gave her an up-and-down appraisal, humming again. She huffed indignantly, folding her arms.

“But hold on,” Micah said. “There are eight phases in the moon’s cycle. What about the New Moon?”

She shrugged, casually rocking her legs a few times and leaning back against the seat. “If there is an eighth, I don’t know about it, and no one mentioned it to me. If the glow is the power of the magic, with Foresight being the strongest, wouldn’t New Moon be… nothing?”

“I suppose that makes sense. To be honest, I’ve never even heard of most of these abilities. I happened to come across Foresight and Nearsight in my studies.”

Charlotte nodded, solemn. “Besides Foresight, the powers were thought to be dormant or extinct, my daddy told me.”

“We need to do some research, and Steamtown will be the perfect place to start. I have a contact there who should guide us in the right direction. Your magic could be useful, especially if I can get you to train.”

She frowned for a moment but perked up, sidling next to him. “I suppose that’s a fair trade for your protection. You have really great arms, do you know that? Really strong.”

“I train.”

She sighed.

Micah drove the horses long after sunset, blue fire lighting the way. The landscape changed quite dramatically from teeming wetlands to arid desert. Charlotte seemed to be trying her best not to complain about hunger pangs, fatigue, cramps, or chilliness, but every so often an unmistakable whimper escaped her lips. It wasn’t until she collapsed into his lap, however, that he relented and pulled to the side of the road to set up camp. Cal landed nearby and, in little time, Micah had a black kettle settled over a large fire.

As he prepared a stew, he kept a watchful eye on their surroundings. The open wasteland under a near full moon provided him with little sense of security. They were sure to have covered more ground than any pursuers could, but he knew Kalem would soon be close behind. He would feel safer in the deep sewers of Steamtown. As he stirred the pot, his sight blurred, and he attempted to blink it away. His eyes felt weary, but then again they always did. He backed away from the kettle, thinking it was the smoke, and watched with amusement as Charlotte inched toward the bureau. Micah could tell she was hoping to pet Cal, who sat atop the chest and eyed her with a warning glare reminiscent of a spoiled cat.

I hope she doesn’t go with, “Here, kitty kitty.”

He went back to the fire, chopping up some potatoes and celery and expertly tuning out a sudden violent ruckus nearby. Charlotte soon came up beside him, folding her arms in disappointment. Several pink scratch marks decorated her neck.

“Crickets, he didn’t have to be so mean about it,” she muttered.

Micah chuckled. “I’ll work on him.”

“You know, that’s the first time I’ve heard your laugh,” she said. “I like it.”

He looked at her. As sudden as the rain, her beguiling smile had already returned, all memories of a scuffle with Cal forgotten. She was bent over so she could look into his visible eye from the right side. The fire’s light cascaded glowing orange shards across her face, making her hair smolder with a heavenly kind of grace.

Before he could think of a reply, the smells of the food distracted her. She inhaled deep, then snapped her fingers. “What this needs is cheese,” she said.

“I have cheese.”

“You do?” She clapped her hands. “Can we use it? What kind is it?”

“Cheddar.”

“That’s perfect! How do you keep it from spoiling, though?”

“The bottom drawer of the bureau is an icebox.”

She rushed to the chest, ignoring Cal’s growl. It took her no time to find the cheese, wrapped in paper and tucked away in a deep corner of the chilly drawer. “That chest has to be one of the most amazing things I’ve ever seen,” she said with deep admiration and perhaps a hint of envy. “Where did you get it?”

“Roobo.”

She took the knife from Micah and began hacking off chunks of the deep yellow cheese into the pot. “You know, Micah, you need to open up more. When I ask you where you got the bureau, it means I want to know the who, what, where, when and why. I’m interested. Telling me you got it in Roobo isn’t the same as telling me where you got it.”

“I apologize. I’m not adept at the inner workings of personal relationships. Until recently, I generally didn’t speak to anyone unless spoken to.”

She scrunched her shoulders, looking guilty. “I’m sorry!” she lamented. “I didn’t mean to wreck your life.”

He took her hand. She stopped to meet his gaze. “You didn’t wreck anything,” he said softly.

For several moments, they said nothing as they looked back at each other. Micah thought he could see some color fill her cheeks. He took back the knife and cheese, resuming to slice more into the now golden stew. “I’m glad you’re with me, Charlotte. I’ve never had a friend to travel with before… besides Cal, of course.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m glad I’m with you, too, Micah. No one’s ever come after me before.”

“What do you mean?”

She shook her head, letting go of him. “Nothing. The stew smells amazing. When will it be ready?”

He looked at the bubbling brew. “I’d say another ten minutes.”

While he resumed cooking, she prepared a makeshift bed out of blankets. He pondered her last statement. What did she mean by that? According to her, people have been chasing her since she was a little girl, driven to obtain the power hidden in her eyes.

The more he thought about it, the more confused he became. He ladled out a bowl for her, and they sat around the fire. As she ate, he watched her. How her lips pursed into an alluring ‘o’ shape as she blew over the spoon, the way she made squeaky sounds of happiness in-between bites, and how her delicate hand cupped the bowl close to her body to borrow its warmth. She devoured three bowlfuls of his stew before collapsing back in a heap on the blankets. Contentment filled her face, but as soon as a few minutes had passed and she found herself looking up into the clear night sky, a look of concern gradually crossed her face again, an expression Micah had come to know well in the short time they were acquainted. He had first seen it the night he watched over her in the holding cell, and he recognized it. She was worried and scared, and even though Micah couldn’t fully trust his intuition about people anymore, he knew it wasn’t because she was being pursued.

She will soon be asleep, he thought. Maybe we can talk about it in the morning.

He quickly ate a bowl of the stew himself, turning his face away from her so he could pull his mask down. Then, he cleaned up while she got under the covers, but she watched him as he worked. When everything had been done and he refreshed the fire with more wood he found around the camp, he settled onto the blankets, using a log to prop his head. Cal slept, his steady breathing atop the bureau carrying even over the sound of the crackling fire.

Charlotte still watched Micah closely. “Aren’t you going to sleep?” she asked.

“I don’t sleep, remember?” he replied.

Her eyes widened for a moment, but she seemed to accept it. “Never? How is that possible?”

“I haven’t slept a single night since I became a Black Son. We are to be ever watchful. There’s no time for rest. So, there’s no need to worry. Go to sleep. I will keep watch through the night.”

Her eyes flicked back and forth, as if debating something. Finally, she shuffled her body next to his and reached a tentative arm over his chest. Micah didn’t know what to do. Her eyes searched his, looking for some kind of reaction. When he gave her none, she tucked her head over his shoulder, holding him closer.

“So you’ll protect me the whole night?” she whispered.

Something hitched in Micah’s chest. He felt incredibly hot. “Yes. The whole night.”

Her tense body loosened against him, and her breathing steadied while his quickened. For several minutes, he hovered his arm above his head, wondering what to do with it. He came to the conclusion he should move when she whispered again, this time a sighing request from a girl half-way to deep sleep.

“Hold me, Micah.”

He slowly let his arm fall around her. For what must have been over an hour, his mind churned with thoughts ranging from the minute to the extreme. When he finally decided he wouldn’t be able to understand any of it, he tried to put it out of mind. Suddenly, he felt tired.

The stars were beautiful tonight. It had been a while since he looked at them. They reminded him of distant memories he could embrace only in the time which they chose to sweep before his eyes. He closed them, hoping to see the fleeting images better, but as always, the seemingly imagined recollections disappeared when he did so. Still, he realized that closing his eyes felt good. As long as he kept his ears alert, it shouldn’t be a problem. It was as if… he found solitude. As if he found true rest.

Perhaps this is what sleep feels like.