“Crisis—the clashing of good and evil, light and dark, is an essential element to forging who we are. There are those who would not stare this truth in the face. Every choice matters. Every battle we win, even against ourselves and our nefarious impulses, matters. And anyone can choose to be a hero.”

—Ridarr Fronkep, Chidron to Elvruste, in her speech commemorating the Memorial of the Unknown Savior

The residents of Ildegor packed into Central Hall. With nothing to do but wait, Beni and the guards argued about what had happened. Zaina sat next to the door, her imagination running wild.

“No,” one of the town guards said, “it was an orbital bombardment, or some kind of chemical weapon. Why do you think the air’s like this?”

Another replied, “Who the fuck would attack Demelia? What kind of message are they trying to send?”

“It’s the fucking Future Wars again,” one piped up. “I’ll bet that’s why they’re coming all the way out here. Hoping to avoid drawing the attention of the Synatorium.”

Zaina frowned. Their conjecture only fueled her torturous worries. She tried to tune them out as she sat off to the side in silence, waiting for her family.

A dim light pierced the smoke in the distance, growing in size and intensity until a large transport lined with six eight-foot-tall tires emerged from the shadow. On the back was a large metal flatbed packed with masked people from the outskirts. Among them were Zaina’s mother, father, and siblings. The vehicle came to a stop, and Two-dye Tohm stepped out from the driver’s cabin atop the transport’s colossal engine, climbed down the rusted ladder, and walked around to open the back.

As people jumped off, Tohm shouted instructions, “Go on, now, get into Central Hall! Orderly fashion, orderly fashion! Come on! No pushing now, these are your neighbors!”

Zaina’s mother made a beeline for her, clutching young Dessa to her bosom as she walked. She pulled Zaina in for an awkward hug, pressing Dessa against her older sister. “Zaina—Zaina, are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” she replied. “How are all of you?”

Zaina’s mother cast a glance over at her husband, who was slowly climbing out of the flatbed. Deril and Elanta were helping him. “Your father was outside when—well, I don’t know what happened, Zaina—but he fell. Do you know what’s happening?”

Zaina shook her head. “I don’t know, but they’re talking about evacuating the whole planet. Here, you need to get inside. The ships should be here soon.”

Beni walked over, his face flashing concern as his eyes fell on Zaina’s father, who coughed into his hand, then let the blood roll from it as his arm fell limply over Deril. “Zaina—help your family into the Central Hall, please. Once everyone’s in, we’ll hole up ’til the buzzards get here.” He leaned over Elanta and Deril and said in a warm tone, “Hey, now, kids. Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be all right. We’ll be going on a little adventure, is all.”

Zaina turned to her father and slipped under one of his arms to support his weight, with her brother helping from the other side.

“Zaina—Zaina…” he said in a weak, distant voice.

“I’m here, Pops,” she said. “I’m here. It’s me.”

He tried to stand up straight. “I—oh—” A pained expression jolted across his face.

“Don’t move too much, Dad,” she said. “Let’s get you inside. You can rest until the buzzards get here.”

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“Zaina—Beni, I have to—I have to help—”

“Pops,” she said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “Pops, you can’t do anything right now. You need to get inside and help mom take care of everyone.”

“Zaina, no—”

With a shake of her head, she replied, “You aren’t looking too good, Pops. Get inside.”

After a weak chuckle, he said, “Very well—Zaina...”

Her father reached for his waist, where a double-barrel scrapshot pistol was holstered alongside two peletins of his personal beads—mappers and scrappers, as he always called them.

“You’re—right,” he choked out. “If something happens—you know what to do. Like—like we practiced—”

With a nod, Zaina unhitched the holster from around her father. It was too big to even consider slipping onto her waist, so she drew the scrapshot, loaded both peletins into the chambers, and switched the weapon’s battery online. The rangefinder popped out. Unfolding it, she placed the adhesive onto her temple so the rangefinder’s screen covered the left ocular covering of her mask, exactly as she’d been taught. Then she tapped the mag-hammer, loading a bead into each chamber.

The weapon’s weight was familiar and comforting; Zaina wasn’t sure she’d need it, but it felt better to have it. She spent countless hours of her youth practicing marksmanship under his strict supervision—back then she’d wondered why. Her gaze fell on the words engraved on the side, Captain, 1032A Mobile Infantry Division, Terran Legion 34.

“Help them,” her father said as her mother dragged him into Central Hall.

She nodded and turned back to Beni, who sighed and shook his head in resigned defeat. He could tell when she wasn’t going to budge.

An eerie silence settled over Ildegor. The air was suffused with tension and thick smoke. The wait for rescue was agonizing—with so many questions unanswered and too much time, Zaina’s mind wandered over every possible worst-case scenario.

Soon, bright lights pierced the haze. The dropships descended in a row right outside Ildegor with a chorus of deep, chest-filling hums. First, a squad of Demelia Defense Force troops arrived, clad in all black and wearing not-entirely-obsolete tactical armor, followed by twenty masked volunteers in white medical uniforms who began escorting the sheltered residents to ships.

Zaina stayed with Beni, Two-dye, and the other guards until the Central Hall was empty. Relief flooded through Zaina as her family, among the last to leave the hall, was escorted toward the lights piercing the haze.

Kitali, sitting next to Zaina, whined. Zaina rubbed the limphor’s soft, fuzzy nape and said, “Go on, girl. You’ve protected me long enough.”

The limphor turned to Zaina, her narrow head tilted in confusion; after a breathy sigh, Zaina said, “Go on with them, girl. I’ll be behind you in a minute.”

Kitali stood and trotted toward her family, then turned back toward Zaina.

“It’s all right, girl. Go on, now,” Zaina said, waving her away. The limphor stared into her eyes, then scurried off to join Zaina’s family on the transports.

Beni turned to her and said, “I think they’ve got it from here, so we should get to our families.”

She nodded—then a creeping sense of unease made her hairs stand on end. Something was wrong. She didn’t know what, but it was in the air, low, clear whispers from the shadows—

Zaina…

Come to the Hollow, Zaina.

Icy pricks crawled up her spine and the back of her neck. Someone, or something, was here.

A dark, ominous laugh emanated from the fog. Then, the black smoke gathered, forming a phantasmal cloak of shadow, writhing and twitching as the meteor had. The sight of it froze Zaina in awe—what was she looking at?

The whispers, now a tangled web of speakers, grew louder, as if each individual voice was trying to speak over all the others. It was coming from within the otherworldly shadow, but it was also coming from inside her mind. Zaina clasped at her temples as a torrent of agony flowed into—and out of—her head.

A few flashes of light accompanied by sputtering cracks broke out in Zaina’s peripheral vision. Beni was shouting madly, leading the Ildegor guards in firing off a salvo from their birifles. The creature was too big to miss, but the scrap beads phased through it without effect.

“What the hell is this?” Two-dye Tohm screamed.

“Fire!” Beni shouted. “Hold it off! Zaina, go!”

A skeletal hand shot forth from the creature’s cloak, still wrapped in ethereal shadow, with its long fingers spread. A single word emanated from the darkness, raspy and guttural.

“Cease.”

The whispers stopped—a humming black wave swept over her, stranding Zaina in a sea of silence. She tried to move, but every muscle in her body was rigid.

Beni’s eyes widened as he kept fighting. Zaina couldn’t even scream—the guards, Two-dye, and everyone else were frozen in place by some unseen force. Whatever this was, they were at its mercy.

Zaina tried to pull the trigger of her scrapshot, hoping get the creature’s attention. It didn’t work—her finger wasn’t able to move a millimeter. Billowing streams of darkness shot from the phantasmal shadow, creeping closer to Zaina’s head. She squirmed and fought, but to no avail—endless darkness settled around her.