Judd stood in the doorway to Emeri’s room, Aalis softly highlighted in the light of a low burning lantern. Only the barest rise and fall of her chest, the faintest pulse in her veins, could convince anyone she was still alive. Her skin was the palest shade he’d ever seen, the shadows beneath her eyes deep enough for all sorts of monsters to hide in and she was completely still.
Verne had fallen asleep sitting next to her, his head rested by one of her hands. Judd slipped into the room and sat on the other side of the bed. He touched the end of one of her dreadlocks, surprised at how soft and flexible it was. It was such an unusual shade of silvery white, adding to Aalis’ overall ethereal appearance at times. There was always a touch of lavender or pale blue about her countenance. A brush of it across her eyelids, at the edge of her hairline…even in the shadows of her dreadlocks like the underside of clouds. The tops were pure white but beneath, there were shadows in the hues of purples and blues.
Judd rubbed his face, weary from worry.
“Have you slept at all?”
He lifted his gaze and saw Verne’s strong blue eyes on him.
“Not really,” Judd murmured, “you?”
“No…” Verne rubbed his neck. “Every time I start to drift off…I hear her screaming…” His jaw trembled.
For all of Judd’s disappointment that Aalis had not chosen him over the archer, he couldn’t rejoice in Verne’s dismay. “She’s going to be alright, Verne.” He promised with conviction. “You’re not going to lose her.”
Verne closed his eyes and gave a silent, sad laugh, shaking his head. “Oh Judd…you don’t know…you don’t realise…”
Judd frowned. “Realise what?”
Verne scrunched his eyes shut. “She’s not…I’m not…” He pressed his hands to his temples and groaned. “I don’t have the energy for this right now…”
“Sleep, Verne,” Judd urged, “I’ll keep watch.” He nodded strongly at the archer who sighed and relented, retreating to his bedroll and closing his eyes.
Judd licked his lips and touched Aalis’ forehead, silently entreating her to wake.
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In the hour before dawn, where the air was coolest and the sky lightening ever so slowly from almost black to a deep indigo, the stars almost brighter before they were obscured by the light of the sun, Aalis’ eyes opened. They were almost colourless but rimmed with a dark line of purple that seemed to be leeching into the clear irises, staining them lavender.
She sat up and looked to her left, seeing Judd asleep, his head slumped on his chest.
She looked to the right and saw Verne asleep on his bedroll, frowning in his sleep.
Like a spirit, Aalis slid off the bed and padded silently from the room, to the corridor and into the kitchen. She glanced around herself, dazed and confused, as though she had never seen the room before. Quietly she reached for a cloak hanging from a peg, her hand grasping it. She paused, focused on her fingernails. They were darkening to green, from the smallest on the left where it was almost black to her thumb which was her normal skin hue.
Aalis stared at the nails, something clanging in her mind like a warning but from such a great distance that it was as though she couldn’t work out where it was coming from.
She drew the cloak around her shoulders, put the hood up and left the house.
She walked numbly, propelled by the slope of the road to head downwards, eventually reaching the village and, because everyone else was going that way, joining the throngs of Maul people who were at the city gates as they opened at the start of a new day. Aalis was pressed into the crowd, her hood disguising her pale skin and the guards paid her no attention.
She crossed the bridge over the moat, the throngs of dark skinned people peeling off, heading to their areas of planting and harvest, Aalis walking slowly but consistently, through the fields.
“Aalis?” The name was a dull thud against her head like her ears were full of cotton. She continued walking. “Aalis?” A hand touched her arm and she was compelled to turn.
A dark skinned man stared at her, surprised and a little concerned. “Aalis? Do you know me? Ersha? Sheal’s husband?”
Aalis swayed on her feet, her eyes unable to focus on his face. Without answering or even looking like she had comprehended his words, she pulled out of his grip. She walked the slopes of the fields outside of Fort Omra, the ground covered in frost that nipped at her feet though she didn’t feel it. Dawn was breaking and the world was alive with anticipation that the long night was over. Aalis could hear the grass quivering, shaking off the blanket of frost and the leaves that began to unfurl to capture as much sun as they could. She could even feel the atmosphere sharpen, almost as if ice was cracking off the very air around her as she breathed out breaths of white mist.
Then she stopped.
Her breathing stalled, the white fog expelled from her lungs fading away.
Slowly she turned and faced the wall, its enormous bulk almost black in the sharpness of the morning light, looming over her with an intimidating leer.
“It comes…” Aalis whispered.
Only a few seconds later, Fort Omra’s alarm began to sound.