Excerpt from Hawthorne’s Journal – August 23, 4-1893

  I am beginning to think the Reaper isn’t from this world. If he is from Firen or the Red, someone would have revealed him to us by now. In the past, money was more than enough incentive to convince the humans to turn on their own. Even here in Firen, we’ve managed to catch Halflings by offering monetary rewards for information leading to their capture.

  But after months of effort, the Reaper is still at large. To me, that means the people here don’t have information to give up. Bennett still believes the people will turn on him, but what if they simply don’t know who he is? What if he isn’t from the Red at all? But if that is true, why would he intrude on the peace here in Firen? What drew him here to a world without true conflict?

  Dahlia

  “You realize it’s summer, right?” Elaine pointed out as she tossed a grape at me to get my attention, “Blistering heat? Blazing sun? Sticky sweat?”

  Absently, I swatted the grape away before it could strike me—making Elaine giggle and toss another at me. I snatched this one from the air and threw it back at her—making her burst out laughing when the grape struck her in the middle of the forehead.

  “Your aim is spectacular—Simon said you were unusual, but I thought that was just some romantic nonsense or something,” Elaine bounced with glee, “Now, I see what he really meant.”

  “He called me unusual?” I wrinkled my nose in distaste at the thought of Simon doing anything romantic, but I didn’t bother highlighting this to Elaine. Instead, I wiped the sweat from my brow.

  My whole body was slick with sweat. In the height of summer, there was little to be done about the heat. I showed her the gleam of sweat on the back of my hand. “And, yes, Imm. I’m well-aware of the Red’s summer climate, considering I’ve lived here since my birth.”

  “You’re knitting a blanket!” Elaine threw her hands in the air and looked up at the ceiling in exasperation, “It’s the middle of summer, and you’re knitting a blanket! I’d call that unusual.”

  I created another knot in the blanket—stitched together with yarn that was nearly as blue as Bennett’s eyes—beautiful blue eyes that seemed to be etched into my memory now. Imms were gorgeous—it was hard not to notice, despite how equally horrifying they could be.

  “I’m crocheting,” I corrected as I lifted the hook to show her before adding, “And what else am I supposed to do with my time? You didn’t exactly come prepared to entertain.”

  Before she could answer, Simon came striding through the front door. Abandoning my blanket to my bedside table, I jumped to my feet—nearly falling over the chain he’d latched to my ankle, “Thank the Imm God—get this damn shackle off me!”

  Simon ran his eyes over me, “How do you feel?”

  “I’m fine!” I snapped as I held my ankle out to him and wiggled my leg—making the metal chain clink as it swung around, “I was fine yesterday too! Now let me go!”

  Simon leaned forward and sniffed the air around me—his eyes falling on my bedside table. He went to it and opened the drawer, frowning when he saw the contents—or lack thereof. He hissed, “You took more of that poison? Are you insane?”

  “It keeps me human,” I explained—my eyes narrowing as I quietly dared him to argue with me, “Without it, my hair would grow far too fast—my teeth too. People would notice,”

  Given the tension in his shoulders, I truly thought he was about to argue with me, but he just slammed the drawer shut and knelt at the side of my bed to unlock the shackle.

  As soon as it opened with a click, I pounced at the Imm—knocking him to the ground with my full weight and every ounce of strength I could muster, and then scrambling to my feet to avoid his reach.

  But Simon didn't even try to reach for me.

  He said nothing as he sat up, but once he got to his feet, he surprised me by admitting in a slow, considering voice, “Perhaps I overreacted when I decided to restrain you. I am…sorry.”

  I saw a simmering fury in his eyes, yet his apology felt genuine. As if sensing my scrutiny, he turned to hide his expression, “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Dahlia?”

  Remembering my goal for the night, I jumped to my feet, “Right.”

  Elaine cleared her throat—to get my attention, probably—but I didn’t wait. I went immediately to my wardrobe and pulled out a dark tunic and trousers—dressing quickly without considering the two near-strangers in my bedroom.

  I didn’t quite care what the several-thousand-year-old Imm thought about my body, and I doubted Elaine cared what I looked like.

  “Where are you going?” Elaine asked—confusion clear in her voice as she followed me to where I dressed.

  I whirled on her.

  “Fuck off—you were complicit! You don't know the first thing about friendship!” I threw my old clothes at her as I slipped into my cloak and dark boots and headed to the door. I hopped on one foot as I laced each boot, and by the time I reached the door, I was fully-dressed and ready to enter the dark streets of Firen.

  I needed to see Carmen—my real friend. Maybe I could even speak with her. She needed to know I hadn’t given up on her.

  Simon murmured something about my stubbornness to Elaine, who giggled, but I ignored them as I slipped through the doorway and out into the hot, evening air.

  The streets were silent, and I saw a flash of lightning on the horizon—a warning that a storm might be coming, which explained why the streets were so quiet.

  The lack of sound was almost eerie, but the quiet didn’t bother me. In fact, after spending so long with Elaine over the last day, I enjoyed the time alone. In truth, the woman was interesting company, but her incessant chatter had left me with a headache.

  As someone who lived alone, I enjoyed the quiet.

  I set off at a quick pace in the direction of the Redmond Compound. I'd have to sneak in—a risk, but a small one. It wasn’t the first time I’d snuck into the most heavily guarded compound in Firen, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

  Marching along, I kept my eyes on the large clock tower that loomed over Firen from the center of Firen. I knew this tower was attached to the Predictor library—it wasn’t nicknamed the Library Tower for nothing.

  The clock hadn’t run in something like one hundred years. One day, it simply stopped ticking at ten minutes after four o’clock, and no one bothered to fix it. There wasn’t a person alive who could remember seeing it move or hearing its bells ring.

  Well, there wasn’t a human alive who remembered it. I’m sure the Imms remembered.

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  Once I grew closer to the tall iron fence that surrounded the school compound, I ducked into the shadows of a nearby building and lifted the hood of my cloak to cover my face. With the Sight as my guide, I picked out the most isolated spot to enter the compound, which was unfortunately also where the fence was tallest—as tall as the buildings around the compound.

  But I could make it work.

  With a deep exhale, I sprinted up to one of the stone pillars that intermittently broke up the metal fence line and leapt with all my strength. As I hit the pillar with an oomph, I just barely curled my fingertips over the top of the brick to gain purchase on the rough stone.

  I only hung there for a moment before I swung my right leg up and over the top of the pillar—sitting there for only a second—before dropping to the ground below. Acting on instinct now, I dipped into the shadow of the nearest building and peeked out into the courtyard as I caught my breath.

  I took in the dozen buildings that lined the courtyard and scrutinized each one closely. Some had signs to indicate their purpose. Across from me sat the library with the massive clock tower. Beside it was the Crimson Council’s building—behind which the Predictors liked to hide their victims. And next to that?

  The Main Residence Hall.

  Carmen's residence hall.

  I looked around nervously. At this time of night, I was much more likely to run into someone. The streets were relatively quiet for this time of year, but I knew some people would be wandering around the compound.

  After some time to examine my surroundings for onlookers, I decided I couldn’t stand here in the shadows for much longer. The Sight didn’t reveal any threats, so without time to second-guess my actions, I sprinted across the courtyard, quick as an Imm.

  Adrenaline filled my veins as I exposed myself to anyone looking into the courtyard. Despite the danger posed by discovery, the thrill felt good. It felt a lot like the thrill of thieving in the market with Erich so long ago.

  With that single thought of my old friend, my mood soured.

  I shook the thought away. The guilt of my inaction lingered after all this time, but I’d been too young to help him when the Imms came for him—too weak. There was nothing I could have done to save him.

  I was across the courtyard in seconds—and as a product of my father’s intense training of late, I was barely out of breath despite my recent injuries. As I reached the edge of the residence building, I ducked behind a thick tree trunk and waited. I waited until my breathing calmed. I waited until the pounding of my heart was barely a whisper in my ears. And most importantly, I waited until I was certain no one had seen my mad dash across the grounds.

  But the courtyard was quiet—eerily so. I heard only the muted sounds coming from within nearby buildings and the chatter of the guards at the main gate.

  With an exhale of relief, I turned my attention to the next task and leaned forward to listen. My hearing was not as sensitive as an Imm’s hearing, but I could still make out the sounds of sleep from within the residence building. Although there were soft murmurs of conversations, the sounds of sleep far outweighed the sounds of wakefulness.

  Encouraged by this, I made my way to the main entrance, and, with a deep breath to calm myself, opened the door and entered the building into a long hallway lined by doors on each side—likely fifty or more doors in total. And the hallway was completely empty. With a smile to myself, I quickly and quietly made my way down the hall—keeping an eye on the names as I passed.

  But I didn’t recognize a single name.

  Predictors were uncommon; they came from all over the Red to study here. The Dreamers—children who experienced visions in their dreams—were far more common in the Red, but given they only attended school here for a year or two, I almost certainly didn’t know any of them.

  I passed each of the doors without pause until I was two doors from the end of the hallway, and I stopped at the sight of my friend’s name beside a heavy, wooden door.

  Carmen Desa

  Fifth-Year Predictor - Novice

  I tried the handle. Locked.

  I felt my brows rise. This was unusual. Carmen’s door had never been locked before—not in the dozens of times I’d come here. Maybe Carmen had reason to feel unsafe.

  I had no choice but to knock.

  I closed my eyes as I raised a hand and knocked quietly on the door—tap, tap, tap. Reflexively, I winced as the sound echoed down the hallway. I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited, and as seconds passed, I knocked again—tapping my knuckles a little more firmly against the door. Tap! Tap! Tap!

  I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard a series of footsteps followed by the sound of the door unlatching before it swung open into Carmen’s quarters. There, in the doorway, Carmen stood in an oversized shirt, her dark eyes widening as she looked up at me.

  Without a word, she grabbed my arm and pulled me into her room before closing the door firmly and locking it behind us. Then, she whirled on me, “Are you insane? Do you know what the Council will do to me if they find out you were here—what they will do to you?”

  I was speechless. After seven years without a word from my friend, she was finally speaking to me. And she looked so much like she had the last time I'd seen her. Sure, she was older, but she still had a smattering of dark freckles on her nose. She still kept up her neat appearance, complete with her hair pulled back in a tight braid that highlighted her widow's peak. And she still had a pale scar on her chin from the time she'd fallen off a horse when we were in school together.

  Carmen immediately doused all the lights in the room and closed her curtains—leaving us in total darkness. But with the Sight, I watched as she held her fingers up in a pinching motion, “They are this close to reporting you to the Calos! That’s how concerned they are about you!”

  “What?” I felt the blood drain from my face—all the daring I’d felt before, gone now, “Report me for what?”

  “You know—for being a Halfling,” Carmen’s voice was dry and crackled as she spoke. Noticing this, she turned and felt around a nearby table for a glass filled with water.

  “You know?” I asked in a panicked, near-whisper, “Does everyone know?”

  “Of course I know! All the damned Predictors know—they know everything!” Carmen threw her hands up in frustration—hitting the glass and spilling some of the water in the process.

  I focused my eyes on the small puddle of water on the ground as I considered this. But of course, the Predictors knew. My mother was a Predictor too, after all.

  Besides, if what Simon had told me about the Crossroads was true, the Predictors knew more about me than I even knew about myself. Not that I believed anything he'd said about the Crossroads, but I'd be a fool to completely ignore what he'd told me.

  My mouth went dry, and I croaked, “But why are they worried about me? I'm nothing—not even a threat!”

  A lie. I'd proven to be a threat when I killed three of their people.

  “They want you and that damned Reaper out of Firen!” Carmen waved her hands wildly again—eyes wide, “The Imms are angry—angry enough to cause serious problems, Dahlia. You need to know—some of the Council have wanted you out of Firen since before you were born. Your support of the Reaper is giving them fuel to convince the others to turn you over to the Calos. This is a dangerous time for you—for us all.”

  “What does the Reaper have to do with me?” I snapped—suddenly frustrated, “Can you try actually explaining what the fuck is happening?”

  She shook her head, “I can't explain, and it wouldn't do any good if I did. Just get the Reaper out of Firen if you want to protect yourself. People are going to die, Dahlia—a lot of people—unless he stops fighting back.”

  “He’s protecting the city from—”

  “He’s going to do more harm than good!” Carmen’s voice rose, “Trust me, I’ve seen it!”

  I had no response. That was a prediction—I was certain of it.

  “Carmen, you can’t actually think the Calos would harm our people,” I may not have liked the Calos—especially due to their inaction where the intruders were concerned—but I doubted they would hurt people in retaliation for the Reaper's actions.

  “It’s not the Calos I’m worried about,” Carmen muttered—her fear plain in her voice.

  If not them, then who—

  “The intruders,” I realized with a start, “Are they planning—”

  Carmen cut in with a vigorous shake of her head, “No—enough. You need to go.”

  She crossed the room to the door and opened it. Light spilled into the room as Carmen looked both ways down the hallway before gesturing for me to leave with her head.

  “Tell me what’s coming,” I pressed in a whisper, crossing my arms stubbornly.

  “Get rid of the Reaper, and then we can talk,” Carmen scowled at me, setting her ultimatum.

  I sighed at what now felt like an impossible choice, “I’m not going to turn the Reaper in, Carmen.”

  “Then convince him to stay out of the Red. He should worry about his own world.”

  I distantly wondered what world the Reaper came from. I didn’t recognize an accent in his voice, but part of me had always assumed he was from the Red. Why else would he go to such lengths to protect Firen? Was he really from somewhere else?

  Carmen gestured through the door again, and I reluctantly crossed the room to her. I considered pushing her harder for information, but I sensed she wouldn’t give in—not yet.

  Carmen may have sounded firm throughout our conversation, but it was clearly out of fear of the Predictors and what they might do to her for talking to me.

  And she was even more terrified of what might happen if the Reaper stayed here—of what the intruders might do in retaliation.

  Admittedly, I shared her concerns. I couldn't stay here if it put her at risk.

  So, I rushed from her room and down the hallway—footsteps quick but silent on the hall floor as I considered Carmen’s warning. Given what I knew about the Imms, she wasn’t wrong about the danger they posed to Firen. Maybe it was only a matter of time before they were fed up with the Reaper and moved on to more drastic measures to put him down.