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Child of the Day.”

Can you now remain

where darkness dwells?

You are no longer of the night,

for it has run its course

and the day is at hand.

Darkness, with all its fury

and malice,

could not overcome it.

It is already passing away

and the True Light is shining.

28. Amyrah

AMYRAH

A LITTLE BROOK RUNS PAST OUR COTTAGE and through Utsanek. It flows right by the tiny house we used to live in. I’ve always thought it an uncommon seam of beauty in that hostile city—a physical reminder that there is still kindness even for all the broken things in this world.

I can still recall how I would stop to listen for its tinkling requiem on the days when the streets were loud and my pada was not nearby. If I kept quiet for long enough, its song never failed to find me. It led me home.

At the age of six, my father moved us out of the city so we wouldn’t bear the valefolk’s scorn any longer. The thought of living away from the lights frightened me, but the consolation was that we would still live near the brook. Like before, I could follow its path with careful footsteps. The knowledge that it didn’t change, that it would always take me to the places I needed to be, soothed my fears. And if I ever got lost in the ténesomni, I could calm myself, listen, and find evidence of its existence.

I follow it now, willing it to whisper those words of comfort I have long since forgotten. Even though I no longer fear the dark, and it can no longer reach me, I feel as though I am six again, placing all my faith in the water to lead me home. My lungs contract and expand with a steady rhythm, and my footfalls are nothing more than soft thuds along the bank. The noise of Utsanek fades completely.

It is only me and the brook.

The snapping of a branch across the babbling water sends a rush of blood pounding through my eardrums. I peer as far as my circle of illumination will allow, but I am able to see nothing on the other side of the stream.

“It’s just a doe.”

His voice makes my heart lurch.

I turn around and find Belwyn standing a few yards behind me. There is a bow and quiver on his back, but the lantern in his hand proves he has no intention of hunting. It looks as though he only grabbed the weapon as an excuse to leave Utsanek. I don’t trust myself to speak, so I stand and clutch the old book to my chest.

He regards me until I feel heat creeping up my face. Raising the lantern to eye-level, he pries open its hinged door and blows the candle out. There is hardly any difference in the ambient light. Even still, a small sound escapes my lips when he extinguishes the ignati.

“Why would you do that?” I breathe, hugging my arms around me even tighter as he approaches. I shiver, though I’m not cold.

Even without firelight, his irises appear golden brown. “It doesn’t seem necessary,” he says with a smile slanting into his cheek.

“But how are you going to get back?”

I laugh when his forehead furrows, and he points a single finger into the air.

“Ah. Right.”

I let the warm feeling of mirth flow through me for a beat. But then I remember. My hand finds his arm, and he gawks at me in surprise.

“Did you learn anything about my father?”