Page 3
Talysse
I have never seen the stars. Only a few have—travelers and adventurers who dared to venture deep into the Wastelands, far beyond the safety of the Beacons. I’ve devoured every story about the outside world in the Temple library, but my mind still struggles to imagine how a sky filled with countless flickering lights would look. The shapes they create—the constellations—are said to have once guided the priests of old, allowing them to foretell the future by the movements of these celestial wonders. It’s a concept so fascinating and alien in a world perpetually bathed in a golden magical shimmer.
The soft light of the Beacon veils the city and its fields in its gentle halo. Dozens of crystals, strategically placed throughout the city, reflect and amplify the spell. Magic is life. Light is life. Beyond the city walls and the protected fields, everything has succumbed to the Taint. Shadowfeeders prowl the darkness, their howls echoing over the walls, haunting the townsfolk’s dreams during the long nights. Everything living in their path is either torn apart and consumed or corrupted, doomed to become one of their thralls—the Tainted Ones.
The narrow back-alley reeks of urine and cheap sour wine. A couple of rats scurry behind the moldy crates lined along the walls. There is no living soul on the streets anymore, and the lights in the windows go out one by one. Those who are not at Red Moon Square are saying their prayers, hoping that the sun will rise in the morning. The Beacon glows like a golden torch at the heart of Tenebris. Light burns in the narrow window beneath the amplifying crystals on top. Mage Eloysse will stay awake all night with the help of some potions, she’ll be working her spells, sending magic words into the crystals, and keeping the city safe. Elders help us all if she falls asleep or exhausts her gift. Rumor has it that the Unseelie Governor has rejected Magister Deepwell’s pleas for another mage. The old man in charge of Tenebris is a fool. Even the children know that you can’t expect mercy from a Fae.
The growl of two brawling stray cats startles me, and I wipe the sweat off my brow, hastening my step. The night is hot and young, and the festivities will continue for a few more hours until everyone drops, exhausted. There’ll be enough time to browse the merchants’ stalls and make some money after seeing .
The streets are getting broader, the pavement beneath the thin soles of my worn-out slippers—smoother. The houses on both sides of the road are painted bright, cheerful garnet red. They are so tall that they pierce the golden haze of the halo. Some roofs sport miniature star crystals, which capture and amplify the light of the Beacon—extra protection for the wealthy inhabitants.
The light is getting thicker—it looks like a glittering net of magic that is nearly palpable. Flowers in pots and even trees—a luxury in a world where nights might last weeks, are on every street corner. I love this neighborhood not only because it reminds me of my parents’ mansion but because of all the colors—blots of happiness in a world of gray and white.
Just a couple of blocks away from ’s adoptive family’s house, heavy steps and clanking of weapons disturb the night silence.
The Night take you! City Guards. The last thing I need now is someone asking questions. Hastily, I open the upper buttons of my shirt, pinch my cheeks, flare my skirt, and let my long black braid snake between the mounts of my high breasts.
“Good evening, honorable guards!” A saccharine smile stretches my lips. The streets have taught me that everyone tries to put you in a certain box. And if you’re good at acting, you can steer them toward the box you wish them to put you in. “A pretty young thing, probably earning some coppers from the gentlemen of this respectable neighborhood.” This is the box I fit perfectly now, winking at the younger guard, who blushes like a maiden and quickly looks away.
“By Atos!” The older one grunts and rolls his eyes, and they continue on their way. Maybe the men are annoyed they cannot go to Red Moon Square, but it went better than expected.
The garden crickets grow quiet as I jump over the low stone fence and land in the grass. Sneaking between the manicured bushes of the two-story mansion, I curse when I see that the light in my sister’s room is off.
is already asleep, but something urges me to wake her up. Some dark, ill feeling that’s been there since that mad merchant went flying across the stables. I scoop some gravel from the alley and toss the tiny rocks at her window. After three clicks, the sleepy face of my sister appears in the gap between the white starched curtains and beams when she spots me peeking behind the thick cypress. Her tiny face, framed by the heavy blonde braids, disappears, and a minute later, she is in my arms.
“Talysse, so happy you came to see me! It’s been such a terrible day—” She sobs, her face buried in the curve of my neck. My chest tightens, and I wipe off her tears with my thumbs.
“Another suitor?” I softly ask, cupping her narrow face. She has inherited my father’s straw-blond hair and warm hazel eyes, so common for Satreyah. But this dreamy smile comes from my mother. At twelve, my sister is already a beauty and too young to marry, but her adopters disagree. Eager to cash out her looks and innocence for money and a title, they’re actively looking for suitors since she started bleeding last summer. Rumor has it that all the luxury they’re living in is coming from marrying off their beautiful adoptive daughter to rich older men.
Yet another reason for me to do anything within my power to get us out of here.
“I am scared, Talysse. He is enormous. And the women are whispering that he is already twice widowed—both his wives dead at fourteen…Cousin Ephraina told me that his last wife had a tiny pet goat. He got jealous that she was spending time with it and made her slaughter it, cook it, and eat it…what if we have a baby, and he gets jealous, Talysse?” Her wide hazel eyes meet mine. Blood is thumping in my temples, and my jaw locks. If that bastard tries to hurt her, I will flay him alive. Yet, I am not planning to linger around and let this wedding happen. If all goes well, we’ll be on our way to the Free Cities with the next caravan.
“I think that Cousin Ephraina is a fool. Besides, we’re leaving for the Free Cities soon—” I even manage a smile and a wink, but deep inside, dark claws are ripping my heart apart. Cousin Ephraina is not a fool, and the haughty adoptive parents of would sell her like cattle to the first murderer if he is willing to pay the price.
I need to act soon.
Tonight.
I’ll make some coin, just a little more to buy us safe passage. Then I’ll get and we’ll until the next caravan to the South agrees to take us.
“Tell me about it, Talysse!” Her teary eyes lift to meet mine, and I tell her the story of our imaginary trip, a story that always calms her, and send a feverish prayer to the Elders that it happens soon.
“The caravans cross the Wastelands, protected by mages. Father has done it often and told me everything about it! When night falls, the mages place star crystals around the camp and cast their spells so the travelers remain safe in their tents. Then they all sit by the campfires and tell each other stories or sing songs to mock the darkness…but you know that mages are scarce, and traveling with a caravan is expensive, and the Free Cities and the shores of the sea are far, far away. Of course, some poor souls have tried crossing the Wastelands alone, without the protection of the Blessed Light magic—”
“What happened with them, Talysse?”
I smoothen the loose strands of hair over her forehead and whisper, “They were never seen again. But fret not. Tomorrow, I will have enough money to get us on the safest caravan. And you will get to ride a pony, just like the one you had at home—”
The weight of the memories breaks my voice, and I force my gaze up, squinting against the golden light, once again trying to see the stars. If only I could read our future in the constellations, like the ancients!
Hurried steps and shouts startle us. Judging by the noise, a large group of men are approaching.
Guards.
They come around the street corner, carrying torches, their blades drawn. Seems like a search party. Probably, a robbery or a murder happened somewhere nearby. Lights appear in the windows of the stone mansion behind us.
“Get back to bed, ! I will come to get you tomorrow.” One last hug, one traitorous tear, and I leap over the fence, away from the guards.