“Why did they have to sell every damn horse?” Erador adjusted the bag on his shoulders.

  “It’s not far,” Haven said.

  “Not far? We walked for days. It’s almost night.”

  “Then it must be close,” Haven said, jogging ahead.

  Erador sighed and forced against his aching legs forward to catch up. He was too weak to wipe the sweat from his brow. The dry fox tail seeds stuck to his pants and dug through the fabric into his legs. He ripped out a few and continued up the steep hill using his hands to help himself reach the top. Resting his palms on his knees, he caught his breath and enjoyed the cool breeze.

  Erador followed Haven’s gaze into the valley where the desolate village awaited them. He knew from her frigid stance this was her home. He placed his hand on her shoulder. Haven’s distraught eyes stabbed through his chest worse than the fox tail seeds poking him. She didn’t give him a chance to speak as she marched past him. Erador followed her at a distance.

  They reached the collapsed front entrance, Erador assumed, but it could’ve been any part of the village. Haven followed the broken slabs of stone on the path and climbed over rocks into the village. Erador went over next. Plants sprouted from the rubble, ivy clinging to the crumbling walls. The streets were filled with ash and broken slabs of blackened stone.

  Chills rippled through Erador. Is this what Lucrethia would become, a desolate and overgrown village, its history remembered by the survivors? He nearly ran into Haven as she stopped abruptly. She stared through the doorway of a building with a partially collapsed roof. Erador mimicked her actions, and froze. Hundreds of bones were piled in the rubble and ashes.

  He reached out to Haven, only allowing his fingertips to touch her back, afraid he would cause her to break. A metal object shone in the sun among the deceased. Erador reached for it but Haven grabbed his hand.

  “Don’t. You’ll disturb the remains.” She moved a stone instead and brushed away the rubble to reveal dirtied and ripped fabric with Odinaty’s symbol. Scorching anger rushed through him.

  “They trapped them and burned them,” Haven said, her voice a whisper on the breeze.

  “Haven.” He reached toward her and she moved away.

  “We need to keep looking,” she said in a broken voice.

  Erador looked one last time at the remains. There had to be a hundred in here alone. He recalled the suffocating smoke from the house in the woods where Dethil and him found Baubie. They could’ve burned with it. These people had no chance against an army, one that was more calculated and deadlier than lurkers. Haven’s people had elements but they had only one or two types and fire wasn't one of them.

  Erador followed Haven, passing houses, some reduced to nothing but rubble. He avoided looking inside to find more remains, but sometimes they passed them on the street, arrows or swords sticking between the bones. Was it worth having Haven face this? He slowed, hating the idea if they found nothing.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” Erador asked.

  “There’s a place we kept our books and scrolls.” She climbed over a pile of rocks.

  “I don’t see how anything could be left,” Erador said.

  Haven faced him. “It’s underground. There might be a chance it’s here.”

  “Where?”

  She placed her hands on the rubble and raised her brow.

  “You’re kidding me,” Erador said. “We have to move this?”

  She nodded.

  “How do you know it wasn’t destroyed?”

  Haven tossed aside a stone. “I don’t.”

  Erador lifted stones and heaved away the largest ones with her help. Through the broken trap door was a flight of steps. Haven went down the steep steps first into the darkness. Erador looked around one last time and followed.

  Haven spread her hand and electricity popped as it appeared between her fingers and lit the narrow hall. The walls and ceiling had support logs, and they passed rooms with fur rugs. Haven led them to the furthest room at the end and shoved open the wooden door. A pedestal was in the center of the circular room lined with stone shelves containing books, wood tablets, and scrolls.

  “What do you know?” Erador said, grinning. “It’s not all lost.”

  Haven stared at the books as if afraid to touch them.

  “What are we looking for exactly?”

  “I don’t know. One of the oldest looking books.”

  “They all look that way,” Erador said, lifting a scroll but he couldn’t distinguish the markings. “Can you read this?”

  Haven took it from him. “A little. I forgot some of it.”

  She set it down and went through other books and scrolls. Erador worked on the other side of the room. Illustrations were on the pages of what he assumed were the Cheeokwa and other mythical creatures. He turned a page, stopping on the illustration of a human-like animal with tall pointed ears like a bat and layers of teeth biting a deer’s neck. The next pictures were the creature shifting into a human, another drinking red liquid from a bowl.

  “I got something,” Erador said with enthusiasm.

  Haven took the book from him and set it on the pedestal. She raised her electrified hand above and scanned the pages. “This is the Tlamehakee.”

  “Can you interpret any of it?”

  She ran her finger across the symbols. “No... I don’t understand this. It’s not in my language. These images... This might mention the ritual that can turn them into a human.”

  “What about the opposite?” he said, pointing at the creature. “Human to Vesper?”

  “Maybe.”

  A pebble skidded down the hall and into the room. Haven lowered the book and lifted her lit hand toward the darkness. Erador grabbed her from moving forward. A hooded figure with a mask emerged, head brushing the opening.

  They stood wide, fingers tense. Erador moved in front of Haven as she pulled a knife from her belt. The figure reached in their cloak and pulled out a much longer dagger. His eyes shifted to the book in Haven’s grasp.

  “I’ll take care of him,” Erador said. “Go.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” Haven said, holding up the knife.

  The man progressed and Haven moved to the other side of the room as Erador backed up. She shot a spark of lightning at the man. He threw up his hand and sprayed water, drawing the lightning to it and redirecting the electricity water at her.

  Gasping, Erador ripped her out of the way and she dropped the book. Another blast of water shot at them as Erador pulled her down. Before he could get up, the man wrestled the knife from Haven. Erador delivered a punch and the man recoiled. He swung the knife and sliced Erador’s arm.

  He winched and grabbed the wound as he backed away. Haven pulled herself up from the floor and cast lightning on both hands. The man looked from the book to Erador and they both dashed for it, grabbing it at the same time. With one jerk, the man ripped the book from Erador. Pages tore out as Erador stumbled backwards into the wall. Haven shot a bolt of lightening but it missed as the man dashed from the room.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Erador darted into the hall as the man raced up the steps and into the streets. Haven’s footsteps beat behind him. Erador rounded the corner and ducked as a fist swung at him. The man grabbed Erador and threw him against the wall and choked him.

  Erador fought for air and searched for light, but the shadows were every where. He shifted his gaze as far as he could see and there it was, sunlight an arm’s length away. He stopped trying to pry the man’s hands from his throat and reached for the light, his fingernails scrapping the wall. His lungs burned as he fought to keep himself conscious, but he felt his life slipping away.

  As his fingers reached to touch the little bit of sunlight, he felt it. Energy coursed through him, reawakening his body as Shade appeared. He moved, blending into the shadows, but Erador could feel his presence slipping against the wall behind him. Shade ripped them through the wall. Erador stumbled onto his back as the man let go, falling onto his side.

  Taking a gasp of air, Erador rolled over. The man rose and pointed the dagger at Erador’s throat when a deafening sound of lurkers’ chattering erupted in the distance. The man’s eyes widened. Erador’s lip raised, as he looked to the deep red sun near the horizon. The migration hour had come. On all fours, a lurker dashed down the road and sliced the man’s arm and he screamed.

  Erador dove into the light and Shade sucked Erador through as a wave of lurkers tumbled down the street and the man darted away. Erador swallowed the air as he laid on the ground, his eyes watering from the relief. He rubbed his aching neck and got up. He called for Haven as he searched the area until he found her nearby. He was relieved to see her unharmed.

  “Where is he?” she said, looking around cautiously.

  “In the Shadow Realm. He’s stuck there, at least for now.”

  Haven examined him. “Are you… hurt?”

  Erador shook his head as he raised the collar of his shirt to hide any marks but Haven noticed the redness left from that man's hands.

  She reached up and touched his neck. “What happened?”

  Erador’s throat tightened from her compassion. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. The pages…” He moved back down the street toward the trap door. “I ripped out some of the pages.”

  Haven chased him down. “We should leave in case he comes back.”

  Erador stopped. “I need to get them.”

  “Why do you think he wanted the book?”

  Erador didn’t have to say it. That man knew what they came here for. It meant something that he didn’t want to believe. Vespers were real.

  ***

  The campfire light flickered through the two pages Erador held. They were illustrations of the vespers, useless to him. He folded them and slipped them in his pocket. That man knew they were coming to Haven’s village, but how? Had he followed them?

  Haven’s touch snapped Erador from his thoughts.

  “You should eat,” Haven said, gesturing to the meat on a stick in his lap that had gone cold.

  He wanted to convince himself that he got used to not eating and the lack of food was all he had to deal with. Now, he would have to return to Lucrethia knowing nothing about vespers and knowing that someone was after them.

  Haven sat on the ground beside him and rubbed her arms incessantly. Erador bit into his food, repulsed by the moist texture he otherwise would’ve enjoyed had he not been sickened by his anxiety.

  “We were followed.” Erador lowered the stick. “Yuni doesn’t want us to know. It’s why he took that book.”

  Erador didn’t want to believe Yuni was a vesper but why else did that man take the book? The Raven was a shifter, but he could only turn into people. Was it too much to assume there were animal-like humans that could change too?

  Haven’s eyes widened as she searched the surrounding trees. “What are we supposed to do against something like that?”

  “We can’t let Yuni stay in Lucrethia. She could turn.”

  From the illustrations, he didn't want to imagine how dangerous she could be. The brooch had to have something to do with her form, but Baubie implied she would be in danger for wearing it? Were vespers that threatening then?

  “Judgment isn’t going to let her go,” Haven said.

  Erador bit into his food aggressively. “That’s why I want to expose her. If the people see what she is... they won’t want her there.”

  “What if they don’t care? They didn’t care she was a witch.”

  “What religion do you think some Lucrethians practiced before they joined my father’s cult? I’m sure some know what a vesper is and they wouldn’t want a blood thirsty demon in their village.”

  “What if the flame is her vesper spirit like I said earlier? Separated from her like my people believe happens to ours when we die. But she found a way to do it while still alive.”

  “What if we break it and free the spirit, then she can never turn back?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe it returns to her.”

  “That could be dangerous.” Erador took another bite of food and swallowed. “What if I use that to expose her? We can turn her back to a vesper.”

  “You’re messing with a loose spirit. You don’t know what it can do or who it could possess.”

  “We’re out of options. That man is a part of this,” Erador said, pointing over his shoulder. “We are in danger. People are going to die. Eli might have been killed already.”

  Haven got up and bit her thumb as she walked past the fire. “I don’t have much to give except….” She stroked the ends of her braids. “There’s another Cheeokwa Clan east of here but it’s difficult to find and... they might not help us.”

  “Haven.” Erador rose at the choke in her voice. “I thought you said all your people died?”

  Haven frowned. “I was scared to go there. I thought Odinaty would take them next.”

  Erador set his food down and moved closer, frowning. “We don’t have to go.”

  He didn’t want to make her, not after what they saw in her village, but maybe it would be good for her to see her people again.

  Haven sat in front of the fire. “What if… no one from my village made it there? What if they’re dead?”

  Erador frowned. “What if they aren’t?”

  Haven looked at him with teary eyes. “They won’t accept me.”

  “How can they not?” Erador sat next to her and touched her arm. How could she think that about herself? She was nothing but… great he wanted to tell her but he knew it wouldn’t help.

  Haven stared at her hands in her lap. “It was my fault our village burned.”

  Erador furrowed his brow. “Odinaty is at fault.”

  Haven shook her head and got up. “If I hadn’t… killed that boy.”

  “Haven that doesn’t—”

  Her fierce look forced him to bite down his words. “A council member’s son from Odinaty was there and I….” she choked and pressed her hand to cover he mouth. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “I know you didn’t.”

  “Odinaty came the next day.” She stared into the fire with wide eyes. “I was so scared. I wanted to help and find my brother but… I ran away.”

  Erador frowned and pulled her into his arms as she sobbed. “It’s not your fault,” he assured. “You did nothing wrong.” Haven wiped her eyes. “If I go to The People of the Mother Tree… they will be angry.”

  Erador ducked his head. “I’m sure they’ll be happy you survived. It’s been a long time.”

  Haven pushed away. “That’s not how anyone felt about Gillian when the New Akthelian Queen was killed. She made a mistake, right? Yet you blame her as if she did it on purpose.”

  “This is... different.”

  “Why? Because it’s me?” she said, touching her chest. “My actions, though not intentional, led to a genocide. A genocide, Erador, of my people. We were one of the few Cheeokwa Clans left.”

  “Haven…” Erador said. “Odinaty used that as an excuse to attack. They were going to do it regardless. New Akthelia didn’t massacre us and they had reason to.”

  Haven crossed her arms. “You don’t see it.”

  “See what?” Erador said.

  “How you choose people like your father.”

  Erador blinked and a memory of Loma nodding was forced in his mind from Shade. He brushed away his opinion.

  “That’s not true. Gillian was….” he breathed sharply through his nose. “She has made mistakes when they could’ve been avoided. She doesn’t learn.”

  Haven raised her chin. “We all can make better choices. If my people operated like Judgment, I would've been killed like Taurin.”

  Erador shifted his gaze away. “I’m sorry.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She moved away from him and laid on the ground with her back to him. “We’re going back to Lucrethia in the morning.”