“It is thus recommended by the Allegiant Security Council that the Order of Riiva be contacted, whatever political concerns arise. The situation on Portlas has deteriorated faster than anticipated, according to Chidron Elmuq. The Order’s Lancers are the only warriors—aside, perhaps, from Synatorium Pathfinders—capable of finding a solution beneficial to the Synatorium Allegiant’s interests in the region; and unfortunately, there are not enough Pathfinders to go around.”

—ASC Memo to the Dyarchs: Meeting Resolution Zv2468-A92, on the Portlas Crisis

Zaina woke with a start. Kitali was licking her face. The limphor’s mask hung from her neck. Gasping, Zaina sat up—her family! The monster! Beni! What had happened?

She frantically scanned her surroundings. The sky was an angry red and gray with undertones of black. There was no sign of Beni or the miasmatic creature. It had left its mark, however; the trees were all dead. Their leaves had shriveled up and disappeared as if the seasons had shifted overnight. The once vibrant forest was now unwelcoming and stripped of life; a layer of ash had settled on the ground. Gray branches twisted and contorted, reaching to the sky for salvation.

Dread coursed through Zaina. She bit her lower lip. Southern Demelia eglonts are supposed to live five hundred years. That thing did this—but how?

Zaina shivered and brushed the question aside. First thing’s first, I need some water.

She stood and dusted herself off. Before leaving she peered over the edge of the cliff, searching for the strange light—was it even light? The valley below, green the day before, was a wasteland.

Shaking her head, she wondered, Where the hell did that thing go?

With a moment to breathe, she took stock of her supplies. The peletins in her scrapshot were still full. Her mask was at half-charge after yesterday’s escapades; the dark smog in the air had thinned out, so she kept it hooked to her belt. She removed the rangefinder from the mask’s ocular covering and attached it to her left temple. Her cloak was torn and tattered, but the rest of her clothing appeared fine.

Kitali whined, and Zaina rubbed the creature’s neck and leaned down to kiss her forehead, keeping her eyes trained on the treeline. The limphor wiggled from happiness. “We’ll get you some food when we get back home, girl. Unless we find some game out here in—in all this.”

Worried about potential threats, Zaina fired off a mapper; the bead sent diagnostic data back to the rangefinder, letting her know how many life forms the forest held. As expected, aside from the occasional bird, lizard, or swarm of ground-dwelling insects, there was nothing.

Zaina’s sense of dread deepened as she moved further into the forest. If Beni comes back—I have to be ready. Did that thing leave, or is it still here?

Finally, she and Kitali came to a small stream. The limphor whined and ran ahead, then stopped at the edge and waited with a happy dance. Zaina smiled for the first time all day.

She knelt in front of the water and pulled a purifier from her utility belt. She stuck the metal end into the stream, extracting and filtering the water into a wide-mouthed plastic tube. She offered the first drink to Kitali, who gratefully lapped up the contents.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Geez, girl. You’re thirsty,” Zaina said. “How long was I out?”

As she went to fill it once more, Zaina caught her reflection in the clear, babbling stream. She leaned down to get a better look. The skin around her right eye was pitch black, spreading and twisting over her cheekbone. She tried to wipe it away, to no avail. It was soft and flat, with no discernible difference in feel from the rest of her face—no pain or discomfort on contact. The blot wasn’t on her skin; it appeared to be a part of it.

What the hell is this? A bruise from when that thing trapped my head or something? But it doesn’t hurt—

She poked at it, turning her face and lowering herself closer to get a better look. Her puzzled reflection stared back in the rippling water. She felt nothing different, and saw nothing she could scrub off or peel away. If it was a bruise, it would fade eventually.

Kitali glanced over. Zaina shrugged and raised the purifier’s rim to her lips. A rustle came from the treetops—she jumped, her heart pounding against her chest. Water splashed on her face. She whipped around—

It was only a bird settling onto a branch.

Zaina sighed and dried herself with her sleeve, then filled the purifier again and quenched her thirst. With a heightened awareness, she continued her way through the forest until the winding path reappeared, and from here she didn’t need the rangefinder. This way was familiar.

She wondered if any of what she saw yesterday was even real. Maybe it was all a dream—but then how did she end up out here? Some strange hallucination? Bog gas? Undercooked dualu meat? Yes, that must have been it. Her family was probably home, worried sick about their daughter.

On cue to stamp out her hopes, the whispers—followed by images of the black cloud, Beni, and Ildegor burning—flashed through her mind.

It was real—all of it.

Zaina stared at the ground to keep from tripping over exposed roots. Many of the trees she recognized—trees she’d grown up with—were smaller than she remembered, as if they’d shriveled overnight.

Her last memory was being swallowed by the light and then waking up. Faint echoes from some weird dream swirled through her mind, but nothing helpful. How long had she been asleep on that cliff? It couldn’t have been long.

She and the limphor trekked further into the dead forest. Zaina’s sense of unease rose with each step.

So, apparently, was Kitali’s, who started to whine. Zaina softly cooed at her, wishing someone could do the same to calm her nerves. She unholstered the scrapshot pistol and kept it trained in front of her. Any defense was better than nothing. Against what, she had no idea. Fighting that weird shadow creature, she may as well have a security blanket.

A sharp pain stabbed into Zaina’s brain, and she jammed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth—what the hell was this? Words scrawled across her mind, hastily written, as whispers emanated from within. A maelstrom of voices burrowed into her brain, making her drop to one knee.

Come, Zaina.

Your path lies with us.

The Deluge has begun.

Together we can save this world exactly as you want it.

Zaina shook her head and pressed her palms against her temples while jitters and cold tremors coursed through her body. She tried to drown the voices out with her own thoughts, muttering to herself, even shouting. Rage swelled up inside, an all-consuming hatred that demanded to be unleashed. She wanted to tear something apart like Beni had, or—

Frightened yelps snapped her from her altered state.

Kitali was ten feet away, legs spread and hackles raised—her eyes filled with fear. Zaina took a few deep breaths with her eyes closed—the knives inside her skull were gone; her seemingly endless wrath was subsiding. She leaned down and called to the limphor, who scuffled toward her and sniffed her hand.

“It’s all right,” Zaina said as she tenderly stroked Kitali’s furry face and neck. “It’s me, girl. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but it’s still me.”

The limphor whimpered and scooted closer, huddling up against her thigh. Zaina gently hugged the trembling creature, grateful for the comfort. Kitali lifted a paw and placed it in Zaina’s palm—their eyes locked for a moment.

Zaina smiled and stood. “It’s all right, girl. I’ve got you. I promise.”

Kitali happily pranced as their journey renewed.