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“Save our children from the kaligorven!” a mother shrieks, a squalling babe wrapped in strips of fabric tight to her chest.

Father nods to his men, and they bellow at the mob to settle down. It only serves to further enrage them. Seizing the moment, the Foremost raises both hands and addresses them, projecting his deep voice above the ruckus.

“I know you are all hungry for retribution for the loved ones you’ve lost,” he begins, the passionate outcries diminishing only slightly. “And I do not blame you. Even my home has not been left untouched by the kaligorven.”

I avert my eyes. I don’t want to know his thoughts.

“You have every right to demand a part in this Hunt. But it is only one sola. If we all go after it, we do not stand a chance at tracking it down.”

At this sensible conclusion, the valefolk begin to calm. Father lowers his hands and hops off the wagon. His men make way as he walks among the people.

“The kaligorven have every right to be angry with us—have we not proven ourselves unfaithful? Keeping light for ourselves, growing to resent our protectors?” A myriad of eyes drop away from him. He continues to pass through the crowd, placing his large palm on a few shoulders as he goes. “They have only repaid us with what we deserved. But they may yet have mercy reserved for us if we do not act rashly.”

“What would you have us do?” the wiry man retorts, his fists shaking at his sides. Father faces him.

“Every family who has suffered a loss will choose one representative to join the hunting party. In this way, you will satisfy your need for revenge, and we will make restitution with the Shrouded.”

A murmur washes through the valefolk like a wave.

“I will give you time to decide who that will be. Go to your homes and prepare. When you are ready, we will be waiting here. But be warned: we will not wait long.”

With that, the rabble disperses. Assuming I have no part in this, I turn and follow the exodus.

My father’s stern voice calls to me. “Belwyn.”

I halt, letting him catch up. He plants his feet in front of mine and waits for me to look him in the eye. When I do, his expression chills me.

“You are responsible for the reckoning of your brother’s life.”

I shake my head. Nothing in me wants to go out there, where I will be forced to confront the shadow and the light and everything in between.

Father claps his hands around my arms.

“Think carefully, son. Would you defy me in this? Would you give in to the coward I fear you are?”

My shoulders tense, and I look away. He grabs my chin roughly, forces me to regard him. I am sure his fingertips will leave bruises.

“You’re the eldest son of the Foremost. It’s time you act like it.”

I stare into his eyes, level with mine. They frighten me, both warm and cold. But they are my father’s. Whatever pain he has caused me, whatever embarrassment I’ve bestowed upon him, he is my kin. Maybe if I say ‘yes’ this time, maybe if I do one more thing for him, those eyes will see me.

My throat squeezes tight, and I nod.

“I will.”

Thunder rumbles in the distance. I shiver and slip my arms into the sleeves of my soft leather jacket—a present from my mother for my eighteenth birthday. She spared no expense, choosing the highest grain and having it tailor-made so it fits my shoulders and torso, with the right amount of slack for ease of movement. Comfortable. I prefer it to a cumbersome cloak.

Taking up my bow and quiver, I turn to say goodbye to her, but she stares out the window. She’s wrapped her arms around herself, fingers digging into her sides. I decide to leave her be and make my way to the Reckoning Grounds.

It is not a surprise when the wiry man strolls up to the wagon brandishing a rusty spear and dagger. Nine others follow him, including two fierce-looking women. The group isn’t as intimidating as my father’s lackeys, but I still wouldn’t want to mess with them. Grim purpose tends to make a person deadly.

No one shows up to represent the couple who hid the sola bones.

My father nods at each person in turn, assessing the gear they managed to scrounge up. I look down the line doubtfully. Who’s to say any of these people know how to hunt? I’m decent with my bow, at least when it comes to stationary targets. Father has always made sure of that. But there are so many other factors to consider. One being that I have never actually shot an arrow outside of Utsanek.

Flanked by Krandel and another man, the Foremost motions for the troop to follow him. He moves off casually into the trees. I’m perplexed. He does not appear like one taking caution. And the three of them carry lanterns.

Our band settles into a rhythm behind them for some time, the thunder booming steadily closer. I bring up the rear, and I’m glad, because every little thing makes me jump. I can’t risk shaming my father with a show of cowardice. The man in front of me darts his head from side to side, all the muscles in his back tense. But my father continues before us, steady and unwavering.