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H eat seizes my lungs with sticky fingers, making this journey up the winding dirt path unnecessarily grueling. I duck my head, avoiding eye contact with the other townspeople.

I’d already secured the water for today, leaving it in the shade behind the small cottage, like always. Not risking showing any skin, I tug the cream sleeves of my blouse down over my arms to hide the markings there.

They’d appeared on my thirteenth birthday, while I’d been practicing summoning mystic lights. Dark inked tattoos aren’t customary in our village. I’ve never noticed anyone else with the swirling design that runs down the inside of my bicep. Perhaps no one else has them at all.

Anything that might indicate someone is different, or a problem is swiftly reported to the guards stationed around our city, never to be heard from again.

Rumors of neighbors going missing whisper through the village daily. Not that I’ve ever witnessed anyone using power in Torrent. Every instance of so-called treachery has been a feud between two farmers, two women over a man, or simply a misunderstanding.

Finding the fork where I ditch the worn path, I climb the sharp, mossy hill between the trees that leads me to Artemis. Checking over my shoulder, I squint against the sun to make sure no one has followed me. This summer’s drought has killed damn near everything, so the charred timber doesn’t offer a reprieve from the sun .

The cliff edge that lies dangerously close to the bounds of our world is a shortcut, one this heat has me considering. The sun is already prickling against my scalp, my golden hair doing little to ward off the sunlight.

I gain footing on the rocks jutting out from the cliff, making several attempts to hoist myself up. As a woman in our village, there was no training, no strengthening or conditioning—women were to marry and bear children, not to draw attention. I never paid any mind to that rule.

I may not have access to blades and weights, but I made do with what I had—carrying buckets of water, scaling the cliffside, and other daily tasks were enough to help me build a modest amount of strength. Alongside having a bird to squawk orders at me, the knowledge from my foster brother and father was helpful too.

Birds scatter at my presence as I scale the edge of the cliff, the looming water to my left. The water is simply an illusion, since it’s believed we wouldn’t survive if we ever encountered what lies on the other side of the strange Wall. Heaving my body onto the grass, I see the path that leads into the small grassy valley. I jump up to my feet, pausing to admire that things seem to survive out here.

It’s as if the borders of Torrent thrive, yet everything within it suffers.

That isn’t limited to the vegetation, either.

Trees dot the edges of the rolling plain, and the grass here somehow remains unaffected by any amount—or lack thereof—of rain. Tugging at the invisible string that tethers me to Artemis, I signal my arrival, knowing full well she knows where I am.

You are so impatient, Aledrya. Her voice is a hiss in my head.

I love how you think that I have all day to wait for you. I stretch out my arms, letting the sleeves fall away. The gentle breeze kisses my damp skin.

Artemis lands in the plain before me, birds fleeing at her presence. My lips pull into a smile, mesmerized by her beauty and elegance. Phoenixes don’t frequent Torrent, which means her time here is scarce. I’d learned from Artemis that Phoenixes are quite fastidious about who they tether to. I choose not to question why she picked me that night .

You question it constantly. Her feminine voice rings through my mind.

Closing the gap between us, I narrow my eyes. I do no such thing. Quit pilfering through my thoughts.

Build your damn barrier then, she croons.

Reaching the dip of the valley, I reach up to stroke her soft neck. Artemis is the most brilliant orange and red I’ve ever seen. Her crest of feathers is thicker than the rest, always slightly ruffled. Her curved beak appears like a perpetual scowl.

It suits her crotchety personality.

Lately, things within the walls of my foster family home have been tense. With so many rumors going around about potential war raging in the Wastelands—the province neighboring ours—my foster father and brother are on edge about being sent away. Disappearing into the valley and soaring above the trees helps me to forget Torrent and the fears of my family being split up by the king's wish for more territory.

Any traces of power have long disappeared within Torrent. To even have power at all is unheard of; to wield it is a death sentence. As for the Fae, aside from folklore, humans don’t speak of their kind; if they willfully abandoned us or if something happened to them, it remains a mystery.

People have been fearful of the Fae long before King Rathian Zan took his throne.

Artemis turns her head to look at me directly, angling her neck so we are more eye level, despite her being several feet taller than me. You seem apprehensive about something.

Straightening my spine before replying to her through our mental tether, I brace myself for the lecture. There are rumblings that have put many on edge. A war may be coming, and if rumors are to be believed, women could be called as well to help the injured.

Phoenixes wear their emotions for all to see. When calm or at rest, Artemis maintains her bright orange and red coloring even without the fire. When she is angry or overwhelmed, she will burst into a deep ember flame. There’s a flicker of her fire along her wings, winking out before they can fully take shape.

Artemis is yet another secret I’m forced to keep. It’s a constant question in my mind of how many Phoenixes are left, if they still dwell among the Fae or left to find their own sanctuary. Artemis’s mood always darkens when I broach the topic, and once she burst into flames in aggravation, so I no longer push for answers. I hold out hope she will trust me enough to share one day, though.

You will figure it out. You always do. A deep snort emanates from her as her ember fire begins to appear along the feathers on her wings.

Shaking my head, I look past her to the trees where the Woven Wall stands. It’s cast to look like an ocean, yet there are no sounds and animals seem to avoid it. Everything about the Woven Wall feels wrong and oppressive.

I’d leave, that’s what I’d do. Silent communication is convenient, especially when admitting traitorous things.

Her eyes flare at that, and she nuzzles my arm affectionately. How you’ve remained here this long is befuddling to me.

As I stroke above her yellow eye, she leans into my touch. Without Artemis, I’m not sure I would have even survived.

Feel up to flying? I would give anything to feel the gentle breeze of flight on my back, through my hair. Sweat has my blouse and hair sticking to my skin, making the heat even more suffocating.

Her breath is hot against my arm. Too many watchful eyes during the day here.

I attempt to mask my disappointment. Like her existence, our tethering is a secret. No one has seen a Phoenix on this side of the Wall in decades, let alone heard of a human being tethered to one. It would be a traitorous offense if discovered; possibly even punishable by death. I long for someone to confide in, though, wondering if there is anything for me outside of the stifling stockade that is Torrent.

Artemis found me when I first arrived with my foster family. I had been practicing conjuring mystic lights in this very valley when she spotted me. I was drawn to her resplendent coloring and assertive disposition from the beginning, and she’d taken to the fact that I hadn’t wet myself in her presence.

Artemis had never pressed me on what my powers were, and never brought them up after the day she found me in the valley, when I’d hardly been a teenager. I was thankful she’d never broached the topic, because my power is hardly anything worth notating. All I can manage are small orbs of light that I keep floating above my head at night.

She backs up so she can flap her wings before taking flight. “When will you be back?” I blurt out, forgoing our internal dialogue.

A few days. Her words are soft, as if that will dampen the blow. Her wings spread into a stretch, her wingspan ten feet wide.

My nod is curt as she begins to flap and rise above the trees. Very well, see you soon.

I watch her fly off, and I can’t decipher why I want to go wherever it is she’s going. The pull I feel to leave this town predates our tethering as flier and bird; Torrent has never felt like home. But crossing the Woven Wall is prohibited—according to my foster brother, simply getting anywhere near it feels like touching a bolt of lightning.

Every day, the urge to flee into the unknown circulates in my mind, regardless of all that. It’s doubtful things could really be worse than living in this shithole of a kingdom.

Focusing on the shallow valley before me, I select the heaviest stick I can manage from the line of trees. Testing the weight, I raise it as if it were a sword and not a fallen scrap of wood. For someone like me, it’s the closest thing I’ll likely ever have to my own weapon. My shoulders and chin lift in silent challenge. I parry across the grass with my invisible partner; not giving a damn how foolish it looks as I thrust and cut my blade to a rhythm only I know. Hours feel like minutes out here.

My feet are light as I swing around, pretending to bring my foot into my feigned swordplay partner. With one final swipe of my branch, I end my routine.

My feet feel like cinder blocks on my walk home, night throwing a heavy blanket over the bare-bones town. The homeless shuffle in the dark corners, and I do my best to avoid the alleys I know are laden with drunks and thieves. I miss our countryside home we’d left a few years ago, where things were cleaner. Safer.

The farmer my foster father had worked for had vanished, accused of wielding power to make his crop grow at a faster rate.

Nevermind that his neighbor got the land.

I’m arriving home late, likely having missed dinner. Avoiding the house as much as possible is the only way to keep my sanity with the discussion of war surrounding every meal.

I reach our humble cottage, one lantern lit by the back entrance. The stones framing our small home are weathered but sturdy. My eyes catch on the vacantness by the back door. The water pail is missing from its normal place, and I pray that one of my fostered brothers has moved it inside, that one of the drunks didn’t snatch it up to avoid going to collect their own.

Tentatively pushing open the back door, I find my family in their usual spots. My father in his armchair, reading by a small candle. My mother cleaning up in the kitchen, hands busy in the washbasin. I see the younger of my brothers flipping through a book of spells on the floor in the kitchen by the lantern light. I make a mental note to learn where and how he attained that book.

“Sorry I’m coming home so late,” I call, coming to the counter where a plate had been set aside for me. “I got caught up at the market talking to a shop owner about a job.”

“Where is the fresh water for today?” Mother asks, frustration etching her tone and forehead. “We went without it for dinner tonight.”

Damned drunkards.

My face feels tight as I turn to face her. “Oh, I left it by the backdoor earlier today. I noticed it was gone when I returned, but I had hoped it had been brought in already. ”

“You are meant to bring it inside and to its rightful place each day, Aledrya,” my father’s booming voice cuts in. “Not leave it by the back door like we are dogs meant to retrieve it. Go out and get more water for tonight. Complete the task this time.”

I stumble back a pace. His words more brash than usual. My father has always been kind to me and the others. He’s an intimidating man, though. Large framed, with a nasty scar down his neck that makes me think he’s had to fight his way out of bad situations more than once.

His shit list isn’t one I’d like to make.

“Yes, sir,” I mumble before backing out of the kitchen door.

My youngest brother, Eon, pokes his head up from his book and chimes, “Good luck!” as I leave. I stick my tongue out at him, earning a giggle.

I have a soft spot for the boy. He lost his parents in a tragic fire when he was only an infant. His deep brown hair and matching brown eyes make him look meek, but I know deep down his spirit is untamed and adventurous.

Once behind the cottage, I make my way to the side where we keep gardening tools. I'm shocked to find the pail I’d brought home earlier bone dry.

It would be quite strange for a drunk to return the bucket. In fact, someone has placed gardening tools in it. With a heavy sigh, I remove them, chucking each one on the ground with a heavy thud.

Are you okay? Artemis asks sleepily.

Blowing hard out my nose, I snatch up the now empty bucket. Someone is playing tricks on me.

Would you like for me to eat them? Her voice is sickly sweet.

I roll my eyes. Phoenixes don’t eat humans.

Not ones from Torrent, they taste like despair. A soft sigh at that.

Rounding the corner, I nearly run into Hune, my eldest foster brother.

“What are you doing?” I sputter as I jump back to give him space. His face is drawn, lines forming on his brow, either from exhaustion or worry.

Hune narrows his dark eyes at me, his thick black hair a mess from the day’s work. “You’re only now going to fetch the water? ”

Hune and I could not look less alike than we do. To my slender frame and golden hair, he’s broad and built, with tawny skin and deep brown eyes. I notice in the single lantern light he’s starting to get facial hair now, his features becoming increasingly masculine and so different from the boyish Hune I’ve known most of my life.

“I brought it here earlier, but left it outside the door while I ran an errand. When I returned, it was put up and empty. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the creek to get more.”

Displeasure clouds his features as his protective nature takes over. He’d recently come of age where he could join the Torrent forces, which meant he’d be moving out soon. Hune and I were close, oftentimes he was the only one I felt I could truly talk to. I tried not to dwell on how empty the cottage would feel in his absence.

“Be quick and stick to the tree line. There has been talk of people wandering the woods lately,” he asserts, giving me a wary look.

Nodding, I put my head down and make a beeline for the dirt path behind our house. I only need to cross one street, climb the hill to the path, and then walk into the trees for five minutes to get to the creek.

I should be home in no time at all, yet something in my bones feels off.

Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I force myself to walk instead of a run like I wish to. I’ll be much slower moving once I have the water bucket full, meaning more time to convince myself something is lurking in the night.

I’ve been afraid of the dark for as long as I can remember. Summoning a mystic light would chase away the darkness, but there is a potential I’d be caught. The only time I chance using my power in the city is after everyone else is sleeping, keeping a mystic light illuminating my room. It keeps the burning itch to use my power at bay, but never fully appeases it.

The pathway splits and I veer off it to walk along the tree line. I hear birds fluttering on the branches above, settling in for the night. The air is humid; the electric feeling of a storm moving in hangs in the air. I scan the sky, looking for any trace of the tempest .

No clouds to be seen. I press on with more urgency.

I can hear the water babbling ahead, so I cut through the trees to get to the spot I typically get our water from. I stumble over some brush, saving myself from face planting on the muddy bank. Mercifully, it’s deserted; no people or animals lurking around. In fact, even the light chittering from the birds has ceased.

Hune’s warning to be quick and remain unseen flashes in my head, so I rush to the edge and allow the water to fill the bucket. Filled to the brim, I stand and lug it onto one of my shoulders. Careful not to slosh it around, I head for the trees again, beginning the grueling walk back to the cottage.

Watching my steps closely, I avoid any loose limbs or holes between the trees. A snapping sound jolts me from my focus. My view is partially obstructed by the water bucket, so I turn in a very slow circle. I likely look ridiculous, and I chuckle to myself, realizing how paranoid I’m being. There is no one out here attempting to loot my water bucket.

Adjusting the pail on my shoulder, I start back the way I came in. I can see faint lights twinkling ahead as the woods become less dense and the hazy city comes to view. My shoulder has started to ache, but I push the thought away.

Almost halfway there.

When my vision focuses under the dense canopy of trees, I spot a figure up ahead standing perfectly still. My feet plant firmly in place.

The water has sloshed over the side of the bucket from my sudden stopping, and I fight against the urge to shiver at the water dripping down my back.

I try to remain as still as possible, hoping I haven’t been spotted. It dawns on me that Hune could have followed me out here, always the protective elder brother.

“Hune?” I call, my voice coming out shrill. “Was following me here really necessary?”

I’m met with a silence that feels unnatural. The figure is unmoving, as if assessing how to approach. Forcing shallow breaths, I begin to sing quietly to myself, attempting to slow my galloping heartbeat .

“Little baby in the dark house

You should have seen the Little Star. ”

Now the figure seems closer.

My brain is screaming for me to run far, far from here, but my feet don’t comply.

“Why are you crying?

Why are you bleating?

You have angered the house god

‘Who has angered me?’ says the house god.”

The figure is most certainly a he and is making his way toward me slowly, as if stalking prey. His frame looks to be double my size, and the way he’s moving with utter precision makes me believe he’s a skilled hunter. A tree branch above me snaps, falling to the forest floor between us.

It’s all the distraction I need to finally force myself into action.

Ditching the bucket with a thud, I take off to the left, a back way that will eventually lead me to the main path. It should be deserted, but at least then I won’t be outside of town in the woods.

I can’t hear anything over my heavy breath and thumping pulse. Too afraid I’ll careen myself into a tree if I look back, I say a prayer to any gods who might be listening and sprint as fast as I can toward the break in the trees.

The edge of the pathway is in sight, and desperation blazes under my hurried steps. I want to get far away from these woods and whatever is lurking out here.

I’d chance the Wall at this point.

Artemis , I rasp down our tether.

If you were truly in danger, I’d be there. Her cooing voice doesn’t seem at all ruffled by my urgency.

Well, that doesn’t make me feel better about my situation, I counter as I keep my feet moving.

I am perhaps thirty feet from the path when I skid to a halt. I can see in the corner of my vision the man is now making his way around the trees to stand right in my path, again.

He took the longer way, yet he still beat me.

He stops right between the trees I was aiming for, like he knew my plan from the beginning. I clench my fists; the hair on my neck prickling at the silence creeping over the woods. He’s perhaps twenty feet away. The air grows still, somehow thicker, as if he sucked all the oxygen out of this area.

“You have to be tired after all that inane running. We should talk.” His voice rattles through the trees, making them quake.

The bubble of anger in my chest pops. “Running is going to keep me away from whatever it is you plan to do with me.”

He takes a few steps toward me then. Despite his behemoth frame, his movements are completely silent.

My eyes track his every move. “Where are your friends?”

“Friends?” There is unmistakable arrogance in his voice, raising my hackles. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. All I want is a conversation.”

Ignoring his request, I rub at my chest to dull the ache forming there. “Don’t play coy, a tree branch fell right in front of me.”

Before I can register it, the man moves with sickening speed to position himself right in front of me. The movement makes my stomach roil and a shriek tears through my throat. The man’s frame would make Hune look petite, and his height is absolutely outlandish. I have never seen a man this size in the city of Torrent.

“Not really one for friends.” He shrugs, rolling his shoulders back. Even in the darkness, I can see his brown eyes are crystal-like; glittering in the darkness and rapidly changing as he scans the woods around us. His caramel-colored skin and the facial hair spanning his jaw are so normal compared to the color of his irises.

I force myself to level my gaze at him. “If you’re not out here frolicking with your friends, what is it that you want?” My voice exudes more confidence than I feel.

The stranger appears to be amused by that, raising a dark eyebrow at me. “Do I look like one to frolic ?”

My heart is drumming in my ears, but not loudly enough to miss a second branch falling to the dirt. Without thinking, I allow myself to turn my back on the tree of a man to see what is lurking behind me.

A Phoenix, even larger than Artemis, descends from the branches, and I freeze. The firebird is so large, it’s hunkering below the canopy.

“What in—” I barely catch myself before I stagger backwards again. My back collides into the stranger’s chest and I scramble away.

“You are acquainted with the Phoenix breed, are you not?” the man asks, his tone curious.

Artemis? A little help would be appreciated, I gasp down the tether, my whole body tensing.

I’m met with silence.

I can’t decide which one of them to focus on. They have me positioned between them, forcing me to choose which to look at while leaving my back exposed to the other. I decide the man is the one to keep my eye on, so I swivel to face him. “I do not know what you mean,” I tell the stalker, raising my chin.

His smile is so stark against the darkness, and it makes my skin crawl at how feral it is. “The name Artemis doesn’t mean anything to you?” He tilts his head, assessing me.

The man takes a step closer, his imposing frame crushing in on me. My eyes widen and I ease back a few paces. “You can stay right there.” My voice shakes, but I dole out the command, regardless.

I swear his eyes twinkle at my response. “You know that Torrent isn’t a safe place for you.” It’s not really a question, it’s as if he already knows the answer.

“You don’t feel particularly safe, either,” I counter.

The man watches me; there is something so fluid about the way he angles his head. “Use your power against me, then. I won’t retaliate.”

My blood runs colder than our iciest winters. “Pardon?”

His chortle makes me stiffen. “If you don’t want to summon your power, then show me that mystic light you adore so much.”

That is my power.

My stomach lurches, his words clinging to the air between us.

“You know you don’t belong here,” he presses, as if sensing my hesitation.

Regaining my composure slightly, I furrow my brow and cross my arms to offset the trembling. “One could argue that you don’t belong here, either. Go away before I yell for the guards.”

He merely shrugs, turning to leave. “Suit yourself.” He gestures for his mammoth Phoenix to follow him. For whatever reason, curiosity takes over.

“Wait, where are you going?” I ask, cursing to myself the second the words leave my mouth.

The look he gives me over his shoulder is nothing short of incredulous. “Suddenly interested in talking?” he drawls, ignoring my question.

I scowl at him. “Never mind.” I stride off, back toward the creek to retrieve my discarded water bucket. Glancing over my shoulder, I notice the behemoth man and his bird are gone. I hadn’t even heard them leave.

Snatching up the bucket on my way, I seethe the whole way back to the creek. If I’m being honest with myself, the anger is merely a disguise for the crippling fear I’m fighting to keep at bay. I’ve never been honest with myself though, the lies come in prettier packages than the truths.

The worst part about Torrent isn’t the dismay, the drunks, or the king. It’s that I’ve yet to find anyone who challenges me to live any differently.

I’d always known I was one to clam up, to try to force myself into a mold, even if I didn’t fit there. Torrent would keep me in a tight grip, shoving me into a place I didn’t belong. There was nothing wrong with marriage and starting a family; but I’d always dreamed of leaving, if only so I could find myself.

I fill the bucket, moving it onto my shoulder. With one last glance around, I quickly walk back through the trees, making it to the path in record time. I can’t help my soft humming, my eyes scanning continuously until I’m standing behind our cottage.