“I don’t have much time.” Adanna slid on her boots with a push, not bothering with the laces. “Are you heading back to the village?”
“Probably,” Ren said as he struggled on his thick cloth overshirt. “Damnit! Blasted thing.” It bunched at his back, sticking to the wet. Adanna moved behind and pulled the garment flat.
“Could you stay with Aelis until I get back? I’d like to stop at Gus’s before heading home.”
“Right now?” Ren painted a hand across the emptied springs.
The nighttime bell had toned, and they were among the last to leave.
“No point in waiting for the warm,” Adanna said, sighing. “Well?”
Ren stomped on his boots before looking at her, amused. “Yeah, I suppose I could do that.”
They left the springs, passing emptied booths and cold ovens. They parted ways at the Commons juncture. Ren headed toward the exit while Adanna continued straight toward Industry. She turned to Ren’s retreating form.
“Thank you! You’re the best!”
Ren kept walking but lifted a fist into the air—a middle finger followed a beat after. Adanna laughed.
“Love you too,” she said, more to herself. Ren never let himself feel appreciated, cloaking his tender heart in layers. Adanna saw past those to the beautiful person beneath it all.
The path to Plygus’s home was second nature to Adanna. She passed the weavers, the masons, and cold forge fires. Everything was quiet. There was only one slight problem: a grinding sound seemed to shake the dimly lit cave. Of course, Father would still be working. Adanna heard the grinding long before airborne calp flour filled her lungs. If she were quick, maybe he wouldn’t notice.
An organized chaos edged into view as she stepped into the long, tall miller’s cave. Apprentices scattered about with tools or filled sacks of flour, piling them on carts for delivery. Groups of four turned the giant millstones on thick, vertical axles. There were sixteen millstones in total now.
When she was little, they’d only had eight. Valkar grew faster than Sableshore could keep up with—more than her father could handle.
She walked straight through as fast as possible, dodging past apprentices and laborers. Adanna did her best to stay out of the way, and nobody paid her mind. She reached the last millstone.
“Adanna?” The voice stopped her. Her father approached with a grain brush and an empty sack. His brow was slick with sweat, and his thick arms rippled with muscle from years of pushing stone as he wiped his face, using the sack as a cloth. “Where are you headed? It's late.” He stood a head taller than her, looking down on her. “You didn’t leave Aelis alone, did you?”
“Aelis was fed and calm when I left. Ren’s watching him for a bit.”
“And you? Why the rush?”
She shifted from foot to foot.
“Plygus has something for me—I’ll be in and out.”
An apprentice called out as a mill screamed in piercing agony.
“Quane! Some help?”
“To the seven hells and back, I said a thousand times, match levels!” Father sprinted off before stuttering to a stop, turning back to Adanna. “Be quick. You know better than to leave your brother for too long.” Then, he was off to tend his precious mill.
Adanna stormed off, quickly leaving the grinding behind her.
She had everything taken care of. Clearly, that wasn’t enough. Adanna needed to do it how Quane wanted, or it was no good. How did he think she felt? Did that even cross his mind?
The worst part was that Adanna understood. Her brother needed them. But for once, she wanted to be the one he cared about—not his work, not Aelis, her. That void sat sadly in her chest—it didn’t seem fillable.
Adanna rounded a wide bend in the cavern that funneled into a secluded nook. Thick blankets obscured the opening. As she pushed through, light assaulted her eyes. It was also entirely too warm in there. What in the void was he doing?
It smelled powerfully organic as the sap fuel immolated in the forge lanterns dangling from the rock ceiling. Were all those damned things lit?
Adanna squinted, finding her way slowly by touch. And touch she did, elbowing some shelved tools and what looked like a fist-sized metal ball, both scattering into the room’s general clutter. She winced.
“Hey!” Gus’s disembodied voice echoed deeper inside the cluttered cavern. “Be careful with my stuff!”
“Sorry!” she called out.
Adanna carefully stepped over a stack of books to plop on a cushioned chair to wait. Heaps of clutter filled the space: hundreds of loose papers, random trinkets, and some dusty, old furniture, all decorating the foyer in a mosaic of insanity. In a way, the room was alive—never the same orientation twice over.
“If I don’t trip over it, I forget it,” Gus would say. He’d forget his nose if it weren’t attached to his face.
While she waited, her eyes adjusted, and the room faded from blinding white into something workable. This amount of light had to be unhealthy.
“Plygus!” she called in annoyance.
A slight figure peaked from behind a bookshelf in the back corner.
“Sorry,” Gus said gleefully, crinkling his wrinkled, baggy eyes. “I was tidying up back there.”
Adanna laughed, and Gus cackled as he hobbled over to her with arms wide. She stood a head taller as she swept up the tiny man into a hug.
“I missed you, too,” Gus grunted as she squished him. Adanna set him down and slumped back into her chair.
“I have to know—what’s with the bright? My eyes are smoking.”
Gus settled into the plush cushion on the floor, making him seem smaller than he already was.
“We had some visitors from the Inner Territories earlier—you know how they are. Couldn’t read the map unless it was glowing.”
Of course, he was referring to the Watchers. They would have stopped here to request an allotment and be assigned quarters for their time in Sableshore.
“What do you know about the noctivora?” Adanna said, testing.
Gus’s eyes widened.
“You know?” he said incredulously. “Adanna, you must be very careful—”
“I know, Gus. You’re our town’s Elder. If anyone would and should know, it's you.”
Gus sighed, rubbing his eyes—he looked suddenly exhausted. “I suppose that’s true.”
The sap hissed and popped in the lanterns above.
“I’m getting old,” Gus hushed. “Just when I thought I’d seen it all, something like this happens. I can only hope it was all for good.”
He worked himself to his feet before shuffling to his usual place atop the stool behind the raised bar countertop. He dived out of view before a cascade of dinks and clanks filled the foyer.
“Now, where did I put the bastard? I thought I—oh!” A scraping sound came before a grunt. “Found it.”
Gus emerged with a slender wooden box. He used it as a broom to sweep the clutter from the counter to rattle to the floor before waving her over.
“Come! You’re going to want to see this.”
Adanna walked over, eyeing the unassuming case.
“So, what is it this time?” Adanna perked up in anticipation.
“Perhaps our salvation,” Gus said with a quirking brow. The quirk continued to rise past the wire rim that captured thick circular lenses—the ones that made his eyes appear twice their size. “If the worst comes, I suspect we will need it. We aren’t ready for these creatures—we don’t have the infrastructure.”
The box was slender, about half a span long and two fists wide. Gus unlatched the corners, swinging it open on greased hinges. They both peeked inside.
It was a stick. Granted, it was the fanciest stick Adanna had ever seen, but a stick nonetheless. There were metal trimmings and what appeared to be a handle at one end. The wood was charcoal black, lighter than starbark, and smooth.
“Wow,” Adanna said, sliding a finger along its sanded length. “What is it?”
Gus beamed down at the stick with pride.
“If all goes as planned, it will protect us.”
“You made this?”
Gus cleared his throat and pushed his spectacle rim back up the bridge of his nose.
“I designed it.” He shuffled awkwardly. “Those with hands suited to each part and parcel did the rest. But I need you and your Moment.” Gus looked uncomfortable, nervous even. “If you’ll do the honors.”
“May I?” she gestured to the stick.
“Please,” Gus practically jumped off his stool to push the box closer.
Adanna carefully lifted the stick from its case, noting its weight. Metal components peaked out along the stick's length. Carved recesses for fingers at the curved end confirmed that it was a handle. The handle allowed Adanna to hold the stick comfortably as she continued to inspect it.
At the top was a dial about half a thumb in diameter. Adanna twisted it, and it threaded up slowly. It popped off after winding for two or three eternities, revealing an empty metal chamber.
“I don’t get it. What could this do to a noctivora?”
“Look at the other end,” Gus said anxiously. He was nearly bursting with anticipation, but he let Adanna at least try to figure it out.
Flipping the stick over, Adanna peered down its length. Inside was a hollow metal tube she could fit her index finger into but not her thumb. The tube extended into the opened chamber.
Gus broke her thoughts with a signaling cough.
“One last clue.” He held up what looked to be a miniature grain silo made of cast metal, a solid cylinder that rounded off at the top. He placed it on the flat end, where the metal flared out to create a lip and stable base. It stood as tall as two fingernails.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Adanna picked it up, tossing it into the air before catching the arc’s end. It was heavier than it looked while only about as thick as her index finger. She dropped it into the chamber and shook the stick to rattle it about.
“I’m cold, aren’t I?”
“No, you’re practically boiling,” Gus smiled, eyes bright.
Adanna kicked herself. It was as thick as her index finger! She turned the stick about to let the clue fall out before sticking it into the front end of that tube. It snapped in snugly.
“Eh?” Adanna wiggled eyebrows.
“Colder,” Gus said, deflated.
“No, it fits perfect!”
Gus shrugged stupidly, pretending not to know.
With effort, she pried the clue out. It had to be the other end. It was awkward, but Adanna managed to fiddle the metal piece into the end attached to the chamber.
“Exactly! Now, pour water into the vessel—not too much, just to the line.”
Gus handed her a canteen, and Adanna carefully drizzled water into the open cap until its level reached the marking line.
“Close it?” she asked, tightly threading the dial back into place. “And now I just…?” she gestured to the chamber, twinkling her fingers.
“Smart as ever,” he grinned. “You need a tap?” Gus pulled open a drawer and set out a vial of about six rations of starbark sap dissolved in water as a dark amber. Adanna didn’t bother correcting the mistake and downed the entire thing.
Blessed Moment washed over, and she breathed in, satisfied. They hadn’t given her Moment to use outside of a dive in months. She breathed out a trickle of warmth that prickled across her skin soothingly.
“Stars, I needed that.”
Gus used a finger to push the stick’s front end away from him.
“Be careful where you face it. Frail human bodies won’t do well against it if it's half as powerful as I expect. Oh! Aim for the ledgers, would you? It is about time I take care of some paperwork.”
Holding the stick firmly in her hand, Adanna pointed it at the indicated shelf and closed her eyes, focusing. Breathing out, Moment flowed from her hand into Gus’s strange creation. Adanna struggled to keep the flow directed, with some Moment wisps slipping out at the edges and lighting the fine hairs on her fingers aflame.
“Ah, that’s hot!” Adanna yipped and batted fried follicles.
Gus leaned over the counter, gesturing at a spot on the handle marked by a carved x. “Try here with your thumb. I built a pathway into the chamber. It should funnel your Moment.”
Adanna tried as Gus suggested, and it was much more manageable. The power practically fell into the stick as she willed it from her pressed thumb.
“Don’t be shy,” Gus said with unmistakable anticipation. “It’ll pop on its own.”
Nodding, she pushed more, faster. The grip grew warm despite the insulating wood. A bead of sweat trickled down her face before falling from her chin. Heartbeats passed in silent anticipation. Nothing happened. Adanna opened her eyes.
“What am I waiting for, exactly?”
“More Moment, Danny. Brace yourself.”
She was sick of waiting. In a rush, she willed a deep breath into the chamber.
Adanna expected a loud pop, like when you ignited starbark sap. Instead, the room exploded. It recoiled her arm back while spinning her to the ground. Her ears felt like they were about to bleed and rang like the morning bells.
“Ugh,” she groaned, eyes watering. She couldn’t hear herself. It was like she was in a dive, hundreds of feet beneath the water. She forced a yawn to clear out her ears. “Hello, hello,” she tested. They didn’t work.
Gus kneeled next to her, checking her head. His lips moved.
“ —shouldn’t have—room—outside—okay?”
“What?!”
“Are you okay?!” Gus yelled.
Adanna nodded. “I’m fine—I just need a breath.”
The chaos continued as a caller boy with shaggy brown hair shot through the curtained doorway into the room—his eyes glistened with tears as he squinted against the room’s brightness. His lips moved quickly, but Adanna couldn’t make it all out.
“Sableshore—Watchers—retreat to the Commons.”
The last bit of his sentence came in better. Adanna stood up and yawned, her ears popping.
“Say that again!” she said too loudly.
“Ma’am! A noctivora is on the hunt in Sableshore! The Watchers ordered the village to retreat to the Commons and for me to inform Elder Plygus!”
Adanna felt her soul turn black.
“Is anyone hurt?”
More tears spilled down the child’s face as he nodded yes.
Adanna whipped her head toward the shelf she’d aimed for, finding a fist-sized chunk missing straight through a thick corner. The stick worked. She strode over to Gus, who sat on the floor, completely still.
He looked stunned—whether from the boom or the horrible news, she didn’t know. Adanna shook him gently.
“You said this was our salvation. This—” Adanna held out the stick— “can kill a noctivora?”
He nodded in a daze, staring off into nothing. Adanna shook him again, harder.
“Do you have more shots?”
Gus finally looked up at her.
“This isn’t what I wanted. Someone else should use it—give it to those Watchers.”
“Gus!” she pleaded. “There isn’t time.”
Sad resolve bloomed in his eyes, and he nodded. He pulled a handful of nine metal cylinders from his pocket and handed them in a clatter. “This is all I have.”
Adanna swiped all nine before working off the cap. In her rush, she fumbled two shots to the floor. “Slow is fast,” her mother’s voice chided. Slowing down, Adanna breathed a calming breath. One finally snapped in with a click, and she pocketed the rest. Gus grabbed her pant leg as she moved for the exit.
“Promise me you’ll be okay?”
Adanna hesitated before kneeling to his level. “I’ll be fine.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “I promise.”
She left him, running out of the blanketed entry and into the hall in a dead sprint. Before she knew it, she was passing through the mill. Scared, confused voices replaced the earlier grinding as families trickled in from the far end. The workers in their grey aprons gathered in a clump in the corner.
“Dad! Quane!” she yelled over the group. A senior miller she knew, Jordin, broke out of the circle to face her. His drawn lips and tight face took her in quickly before pointing down the corridor heading out of the Commons. “Your fool of a father went to die. You’d do well not to follow.”
Her feet moved before her fears could stop them, carrying her through the miller’s cave and out of Industry. She darted through the growing funnel of terrified faces.
“Quane! Ren! Aelis!” Adanna shouted into the crowd as she ran.
Each face that wasn’t one of them had her dread climbing higher.
She passed a screaming woman, struggling against two men who kept her moving further into the caves.
“Let me go! My boy is out there! LET ME GO!”
One of the men hugged the screaming woman as much as he held her back, with tears in his eyes.
“I’m sorry, my love,” he said. “I couldn’t protect him. Our boy is gone.”
The woman’s bellowing response was gutterally primal, followed by desperate, gasping sobs.
Adanna recognized the woman, Rayyan, who had repaired more than one of her coats. The seamstress's eyes stared off, lifeless, as if her soul had unraveled. Mending that hole would take years, if ever. Kes knows Adanna hadn’t ever managed it.
The cold smashed into Adanna long before the Commons exit, where the crowd thinned. Either she had missed them, or they hadn’t evacuated—this wasn’t happening. She ran until the cavern widened and opened to a sea of stars. Lantern light twinkled off the huts on the distant horizon.
Adanna breathed out warmth and ran. Time became like mist as the ice beneath her blurred. With Moment, with warmth, she made far better time than before, and the huts soon took up detail and dimension in the distance.
An inhuman cry, high-pitched and multitoned, pierced the cold air. It sent fear pulsing through Adanna, and she jolted to a stop. The wind picked up, trying to strip away her warmth.
She could turn back. It wasn’t too late. Nobody would know. And if they did, what of it? She was no Watcher, and this wasn’t her labor. What was she doing out here? Another scream carried over the winds—a human scream. Her family could be dying, and she could help.
“Go, you coward,” Adanna whispered, her voice unsteady.
More human screams cracked through her terror, and she was running before she could think to stop. Her mother’s voice comforted her as she ran.
“Fear is your energy. Fear is your power. It keeps you alive. Know it, harness it, and dive!”
Each puffed breath carried her closer to the screams, closer to the creature she’d seen up in those mountains.
When she reached Sableshore proper, Lus was nearly at her peak. A reddish hue bathed her home and saturated each of the many huts inset into the flats. It was quiet. Adanna slowed to a creep, keeping to each dwelling’s edge for cover.
Darting from hut to hut, she made little noise on the rough ice with her padded boots. Slowly, carefully, she made her way toward her hut, closer to Sableshore’s center.
The wind screamed as it threaded through the tightly set domed roofs, each gust whispering promises of monsters. Her breath quickened until she consciously slowed it with slow, measured intention. She could do this—she would use this fear.
Adanna stifled a yelp as she stepped onto something slippery, sprawling face-first into the unyielding ice. Rolling to her side with a groan, she soaked her cloak in what appeared to be a spill. Her head fuzzed as she stumbled to her feet, and her thoughts trailed behind her actions. How was there liquid outside? It made no sense. She wiped off her hands, stained a deep, dark red. The horrible scene before her struck her all at once.
What remained of a body, if it could be called that, lay starkly strewn across the ice. Blood was everywhere. The scattered remaining chunks of flesh still steamed with heat. It had to have happened minutes ago, at most. Adanna shuddered, suppressing her rising bile from decorating the ice further. A voice startled her out of her horror.
“What are you doing here?”
Adanna jumped, turning. She found Tael, the rude Watcher from before, backed up against the opposite building, nestled beneath the shading eave. He held an absurdly long spear over twice his height—that couldn’t be practical. The man certainly had a complex.
Tael whisper-yelled, more urgently this time. “It’s coming back. You need to leave now!”
“Do you know who this was?” Adanna asked.
Tael looked at her like she’d said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard.
A scraping noise, like ripping paper, echoed distantly. Shortly after, a chorus of clicking followed, growing louder with each passing breath.
“Void, take me,” Tael cursed bitterly. “I won't deny it's poetic.” With deliberate steps, he moved between Adanna and the approaching clicks, his boots seeking the ice’s dry patches. He shifted his spear into a ready stance. “I’ll hold it back as long as I can. Get to the Commons—now.”
Should she? This was stupid, wasn’t it? Adanna wasn’t a warrior. In all likelihood, she’d get in the way more than help. But that body…nobody should die like that. How could she stand by and let another family lose someone they loved? She had the power to help. Adanna had to try.
She aimed the stick at the clicking crescendo. The handle felt slick with sweat and blood, and she shifted her grip uncomfortably. Tael turned, looking astonished that she was still there.
“Are you insane? Has sap rot eaten away your remaining senses? I said run!” Tael shoved her hard, and she stumbled back before falling onto her backside. All recollections of fear fled to be replaced by rage—this pompous bastard shoved her.
The clicking stopped. Fear returned in a flash. Tael turned back, shifting on the balls of his feet. “Fucking amazing.”
An inky blackness rose above the house ahead of them. Two giant spikes punctured the ice roof, pulling its body upwards before cresting it. The noctivora perched on all four of its legs, eyeing them. No, not them. Eight eyes were all on Adanna—she could feel each of them.
Tightly overlapping, slick, smooth black chitin armor protected its body completely. It looked unconcerned as it slunk down the hut onto the flats toward Tael and Adanna. Prowling liquidly, it tested a circle outside of Tael’s spear range.
The noctivora’s mouth dripped black in an almost grin. Each tooth battled the next for space in the noctivora’s mouth, forming jaggy rows of glistening whites perfect for rendering flesh into food. Chunks of gristle stayed stuck between the tightly packed fangs.
To Tael’s credit, he didn’t look afraid. Adanna didn’t like the man, but she respected him then.
It surprised her when Tael rushed forward, lunging a strike that bounced off the chitin as the noctivora shifted quickly to the side. The creature struck out blinding fast, but Tael was already dancing out of range. That long spear wasn’t as useless as she thought, giving him enough time to get out of the way.
Still, Tael struggled against the follow-up assault from the noctivora, front legs stabbing out in a blur and putting him on the back foot. While Tael parried each stab, it didn’t seem he could manage it much longer. Adanna needed to help.
She hoped this worked. Getting to her feet and raising the stick, she aimed and pushed. Moment rushed into the device, far faster than before, and the stick exploded, not deafening her like previously but still ringing her ears. The shot pierced the noctivora’s back with a spray of sparks and steaming jets of black ichor.
The creature screeched, turning to face Adanna. As it did, Tael rammed his spear between pieces of chitin with a crunch. It screamed again, wilder. Fast as a whip, the noctivora’s back leg swept out and batted Tael onto the ice, flying nearly fifteen feet. It snapped off the spear before tossing the leftover haft into the wind.
Those eyes grew red. It came for Adanna, covering the ground between them in a blink.
Adanna sprinted away, rounding the closest hut to leap down the inset steps to the front door. Praying, she tried the handle—unlocked—the door swung open. She slammed the thick door shut and flung the catch closed.
Then, silence. The hut was cold enough to see her breath, barren besides an emptied wash basin and a few shattered allotment barrels. Just her luck, this home was unassigned.
Working off the stick’s dial cap as she went, Adanna scoured the hut for water. The cap popped off, and she pushed another shot into the hole. However, it needed water. There was no water.
Think, we need to find something to fill this with, she thought helplessly.
The hut shuttered, chunks of ice falling free from the ceiling.
Could she melt the ice? Adanna sensed her Moment reserves running thin. Operating this invention was expensive. Dread filled her as she accepted what she felt—she wouldn’t have the Moment to do both.
Another slam and the creature’s black trunk of a leg broke through the roof, a hunk of ice nearly hitting her. Adanna scrambled to the room’s corner, hopelessly huddling while gripping the inoperable stick so hard it hurt the cut on her palm.
The cut!
Adanna wound off her bandage. The wound had long stopped bleeding. Taking her obsidian knife from her belt, she traced a deep gash and pressed it to the chamber. It filled with blood quickly.
Each thundering impact grew more frantic, with large sections of the ice ceiling caving in—the blood reached level. Round and round, she wound the dial closed. There had to be a better way to seal this.
Another crunch and the noctivora fell into the space.
Tightening the dial shut, Adanna raised the stick and screamed.
“Over here, you bastard!”
It turned face-to-barrel, raising a vicious limb to end her story. Adanna flooded the stick with her remaining Moment and braced.
The resounding shockwave sent the stick flying out of her slick hands, crunching painfully into her nose. But the shot was perfect. The nightmare’s face split in two, separated into a gaping gash between its eye columns. It dropped like a runaway boulder and crashed with a puff of ice.
Hot as the springs, black blood pooled in a steady stream from the noctivora’s face, smelling like soured milk. It was full of Moment and glowed brightly to that sense. One of its eyes had popped out and rolled next to Adanna—what was once a deep red was now as black as a cloudy, moonless day.
The ichor flowed closer, finding its way to the blood dripping from her palm before mixing and swirling together in a mesmerizing dance. Something was very wrong in Andhera.