It was a short walk from Silas's home to the edge of the city. As Silas walked up the slope towards the wall, the buildings and their windows became smaller. The people walking the streets shrunk to match the buildings, with fewer humans and more dwarves and indri. The number of people in the streets did little to hold back the darker parts of the road. Fewer than half of the humans and none of the indri or dwarves carried lanterns, leaving only dim reflections of light off the buildings to fill the shadows. Yet despite the dim light, the air was filled with cheerful chatter. Merchants stood behind their stalls and called out to passers-by, children ran between the adults and everyone was active.

Slowly the novelty of the shadowed part of the city wore off and Silas's head slowly slumped between his shoulders. No one seemed to realise he was anathema. True, everyone avoided him, but no more so than any other person. He was just a slow moving obstacle to steer around. His shame was invisible.

"Hey you! Wanderer! What are you looking for?" Silas kept walking. "You! Human with the down turned head! Can't find what you want? Maybe I can help! Don't just keep moving! Stop!" A rush of motion came from Silas's left and a bundle of grey fur slammed into view. Silas had no choice but to stop or trip over the indri in front of him.

"That's better. You've passed my stall three times now, each slower than the last. Are you lost? Do the three wells here confuse you? After all, most cities, no matter how big, only have one. But this is Bastion, the triple city! A city of wonders!" The indri paused and looked Silas over more carefully, "No, you're a native here. A 'Child of the Light'. Go back to your well and leave off whatever persecution you planned."

The indri stepped aside and flourished a bow, "On your way, my lord. Don't let me trouble you further."

"Wait," cried Silas, "I was told to mention Eronos. I've been banished from the light, and I don't know what to do."

The indri straightened and looked up at Silas. "Ah, it's the Darkwalker. Eronos told me about you. Said you'd come eventually. Let's get out of the street and talk somewhere quieter."

The indri turned and walked back to his stall, then waved Silas to follow him. Past the counter up front was a small door and Silas had to stoop to get through. On the other side, the room was dim, far darker than the street, and lit only by the lantern Silas carried. Silas lifted his head back up to look around and promptly smashed it into the ceiling.

"Just stay there for a moment," the shopkeeper called. There was a rustling, then an opening of shutters and Silas could finally see clearly. Apart from the height of the ceiling, it was much like his old home. A small table with chairs and an oil-burning stove dominated the room, while on the far wall were doors that Silas presumed led to storage and sleeping areas.

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"Come, sit down."

Silas shuffled over to a chair and sat. His knees bumped the bottom of the table.

"Now," said the shopkeeper, "let's begin again. I am Mosfer and I'm pleased to welcome you to my home, Darkwalker."

"I'm Silas, and I'm not an evil monster!" Silas tried to jump up, but fell to the floor with a crash, his legs tangled under the too-low table.

"Of course you're not. But just as certainly you are, or at least should be, a Darkwalker. What do you think keeps this city safe? The light? It's no safety, it's a lure, a glowing beacon that attracts all manner of creatures. The brightness of the light blinds you to everything outside the walls, and leaves all within ignorant of the dangers beyond. The light and heat from the wells is a source of power, and all covet it. The safety of this city comes from its guards and priests, and the people within blindly follow their glory

"But you, Eranos saw you, walking without fear when the light was weak. You no longer have the protection of those with power. And without that protection, you are in danger."

"Yes, I'm in danger! I'm in danger of falling farther into darkness! It's darkness that's the danger, not the light." Silas moved to leap from his seat, but smashed his legs into the table again, sending him back to the chair with a thud. Moaning in pain, Silas slammed the chair back and stood up again, only to hit his head on the ceiling again. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Silas awoke, groaning, to a dark room. His lantern had gone out. His head and knees ached from his injuries. A voice was contentedly humming, shadows stretching from the voice to Silas. Pushing aside a too-small blanket thrown over his body, he raised his arm and bumped into a chair, scraping it across the floor. The humming stopped, replaced by the approach of hard-soled shoes clacking on wood.

"You're finally awake." The voice was not Mosfer's. "I made some stew. Want any?"

"I have fallen into a place of evil. Darkness surrounds me! Stay back." Silas scrambled to his feet, saw an open door and scurried back into the street.

It was approaching rest-time in the cycle of hours. The streets were emptier now and less cheerful. With the lanterns of the shop-keepers and pedestrians gone, it even seemed ominous, as the cheerful yellow of the fires no longer lightened the deeper red from the wells. Silas wandered around, but without the purpose gained from gathering manna or people to talk to, it was nothing but aimless. He yawned out of habit. Time to find somewhere to sleep. But with no home, excommunicated from his friends, and his money secured by the temple bank, every option seemed closed.

He lay down briefly in an alley, but soon got up again. After his impromptu rest, he wasn't tired enough to sleep on stones. Another hour of circling in the unchanging light brought no new insights. The heathen indri were his only option.

Silas trudged back to Mosfer's home and knocked. The door opened.

"What do I need to do?"