??? pov:
EmberWane 8th, 3rd Year, 4th Cycle – Arinotril
The sun hit my wrappings like little needles. I pulled my hood lower and kept my head down, watching my bare feet move across the cobblestone—left, right, don't trip, left, right.
Littus was bouncing around to my left like a pebble someone threw wrong. He leapt onto a crate, slipped, laughed, did it again.
"Wrappy," he chirped, arms flapping, "do you think they'll let us sleep inside tonight? Inside, inside? With walls? I bet the walls smell like meat!"
"I don't think walls should smell like meat, Lit," I said, voice hoarse. My throat ached. I hadn't spoken much today. Unless it's a meat wall. Or a meat room. Ew. No, stop thinking that. That's gross. Don't laugh. Don't laugh or they'll think something's wrong with you again.
Avara slithered along beside me on my right, eyes soft and slow like dusk. Her long tail trailed behind her in a thick coil that flicked whenever Littus got too close.
"They wont let usss in," she murmured, adjusting the edge of my head-wrap. "Captain Brinksss can't alwayssss be there when the town'sss like thisss."
It wasn't storming yet, but the sky was bruised and swollen. Everyone on the streets could tell that something was going to happen. Not that that was much of a shock. Something always happened, and then a week later, it would be forgotten.
I'm betting on the warehouse district causing something. The clouds look like they've been punched and are trying not to cry. Kind of like me, I guess. Hah! Stop that. Don't start thinking stupid things now.
Behind us, I heard Clara's feathers whisper. They always whispered. She didn't talk much, and when she did, it sounded like she was thinking four things and only saying the part she was allowed to.
Eiken trailed beside her, arms crossed, looking like he ate frowns for breakfast. He had a habit of clicking his tongue like he was judging everything. Littus, Clara, the walls, the sky. Probably me too. He's not all bad, I guess. He has the muscle to move things to block the hideout entrance. And he gave me a shoelace once. Then told me I owed him a favour.
I don't even own shoes!
We rounded the corner of the guard station, where stone turned warm with lamplight. I saw the familiar figure leaning against a barrel: round belly, thick arms, bushy beard. Captain Brinks. He always called us "little foxes," even though I was the only one with actual fur under all these bandages.
"There you are," he said with a grin that made his cheeks wrinkle. "My little foxes, out past curfew again?"
"We weren't late, the sun was," said Littus brightly. He had a stick in one hand and was trying to balance it on his forehead.
"Is it okay we're here?" I asked.
Captain Brinks nodded. "Of course. Got a warm spot round the back and something to fill those bellies."
Warm food. I could cry. No, no crying. It's just soup. You're not that sad. You're just tired. There were other kids already there, half-hiding behind crates, eyes wide. I recognized a few. The one with the burned arm. The twins who didn't speak. The girl who wore curtain-like dresses. None of them talked as Captain Brinks brought out wooden bowls and a basket of bread, handed out like little treasures.
When he passed one to me, I mumbled, "Thank you."
My fingers touched his for a second. His skin was rough, like old bark. I recoiled in hopes that nothing bad would transfer over to him. If there were more grown-ups like him, maybe everything wouldn't be so bad. Maybe… maybe the city wouldn't spit me out every time I tried to stand up.
I sat beside Avara and Littus. Littus was already licking the inside of his bowl.
"Mine tastes like beef!" he yelled.
"They're all the sssame," Avara said, sipping hers slowly. "Don't talk with your mouth open, it'sss rude."
"I'm not rude, I'm just musical," Littus said, spraying crumbs. I ate every bit. It wasn't much, but it was hot, and that meant something. My belly stopped hurting. I let myself close my eyes. This is what safe feels like. A little bit of soup and the sound of Littus complaining that his bread isn't crunchy enough.
We handed our bowls back. Captain Brinks took them with a smile, wiping each one clean with the edge of a cloth. We started to say thank you again—Littus with a loud voice, Avara with a bow of her head, me with a nod I hoped didn't look like begging—when the sound hit.
KABLAM!
The street shook. Distant, but close enough to feel it in the bones. That's not thunder. That's something big. That's something bad.
Smoke rose in the west, a thick grey pillar twisting toward the bruised sky. Guards shouted. The captain's smile faded for half a second, then came back like he was putting it on for us.
"Well," he said, tightening the straps on his chest plate, "duty calls. You little foxes stay safe, alright?"
We nodded. The other kids scattered like pebbles kicked down a hill. But I didn't move. Avara touched my arm.
"Wrappy," she said. "We should go."
"…"
"Wrap-e-cat!"
I startled and looked at her.
"I want to see," I whispered.
"What?"
"I want to see what happened." My voice felt steadier than it had in days. My bet is going to come true. I just knew it was the warehouse district!
Littus gasped. "Oooh! Like an adventure? With danger and maybe explosions?!"
"...more explosions," I said quietly.
Avara narrowed her eyes. "It'ssss not sssafe."
"I know." But I'm tired of not knowing. I'm tired of sitting and waiting and wondering if it's the bad thing again. I'm tired of hiding while the world cracks apart around me. I just want to see. Even if it's scary. Even if I'm not brave. I'm allowed to look!
Captain Brinks ran down the street with several other guards, armor clanking like pots. We watched them go. Littus took my hand. "Let's go, Wrappy."
Avara sighed, but nodded. "We go together."
And so, we turned from safety. And walked toward the smoke.
-----
We ducked behind a wagon that smelled like fish guts and mouldy straw, hearts thumping like drums in a parade gone wrong. The cobblestones here were blackened, scorched like the rocks had swallowed lightning, and bits of wood and metal still rained from the sky like angry raindrops.
Littus was crouched beside me, tail twitching wildly, breath puffing fast and hot. Avara had slithered halfway up the wheel spokes, coiled like a spring, eyes sharp and still. I peeked around the corner, just enough to see. And I wished I hadn't.
I didn't think I would be this correct!
One of the warehouses was gone.
Not burnt. Not broken. Gone.
The earth was torn open, a dark crater where stone had once been. Chunks of wall were scattered like crumbs. One big door hung from a lamppost like a weird flag. And blood—there was so much blood. On the stones. The barrels. Even the rooftops. No. No, no, no. This is wrong. This is wrong like teeth in your soup!
In the centre of it all, lumbering and snorting, was the thing.
It was tall—bigger than the fountain, bigger than the bakery chimney—and it was wet. That's what I thought first. Not slimy. Just... wet. Like it had crawled out of someone's mouth and kept going.
Too many arms. Not enough legs. A giant mouth in the middle of its belly, stretching open and shut like it couldn't breathe without chewing. And in the very centre, where a chest or something should have been, there was a face.
Not its own.
A Darkone's. Pale skin. Black eyes, deeper than well water. Mouth smiling in a way that didn't match the chaos. And horns all over like a crown. A face I'd see in nightmares for days to come that I would never tell anyone about.
"Godsss sssave usss," Avara whispered, her tail tightening so hard the wood creaked.
Littus whimpered beside me. "That's not a person. That's not a monster. That's—what is that?!"
I don't know. I don't want to know. I want it to go away. I want to go away. I want all of this to go away! Guards were shouting and swarming, blades out, magic crackling from fingers. One hurled a lightning bolt and it hit the monster in the leg-ish, I think—but the flesh swallowed it like soup.
It laughed.
It laughed.
I squeezed my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them, bandages crackling like dry leaves.
"I don't like this," I croaked. "We shouldn't have come, I shouldn't have tried to see! I don't want to look anymore!"
"I think we need to underssstand," Avara said, voice steadier than mine. But I don't want to understand! I want to forget it. I want to curl up in a blanket that hopefully doesn't smells like poop and sleep for a hundred years!
We stayed low. I leaned closer to a pair of guards crouched near a pile of crates, trying to bandage a bleeding comrade.
"—told 'em not to mess with old magic—"
"Blood circles, right there in the stone! Carved deep!"
"How can a summoning go so bad. Or so right. If that is what they wanted to bring! Whatever this is, it is not from here! Why don't we just kill these assholes, instead of letting them go!"
One of them pointed toward the crater. "Cause it's the fucking law! Blood is not illegal, remember?? Said they needed 'sacrifice.' Whatever they did, they fed something."
Avara closed her eyes for a second. Littus blinked rapidly. "Wait. Wait. So someone brought that thing here? Like on purpose?!"
"They made it," Avara said. "With blood. With ritualsss. That'sss what it sssounds like."
"Why would anyone do that?" I whispered. My voice felt small. Too small. "Why would you make a thing like that?"
No one answered. The monster turned toward the guards again, roared a sound that sounded like words underwater, and charged. The ground shook so hard my teeth clicked together. One guard went flying. Another one screamed and vanished beneath a gory mouth. I bit down on my tunic so I wouldn't scream too.
This is why I shouldn't make bets or predictions. My curse does this. I bet it's my fault. This is why I don't trust alley preachers or kids who talk to me without fear. Anyone who talks normal will get cursed! Of course I did this. My curse breaks things. People. Places. Me.
My heart pounded so hard I thought it would tear the bandages off my chest. Littus clutched my arm and I didn't pull away. He was shaking.
"Is this gonna happen to the whole town?" he asked. "Like… the whole thing? More of these things? Or is this thing gonna get bigger and swallow everything up?! Because—because I've got a spot behind the bakery that's mine and I don't want it to be a crater."
"I don't know," I said. "But I hate it!"
"I really hate it," Littus whispered, nodding furiously. "Top ten things I hate. This is, like, the number before number one."
Avara pressed her hand to my shoulder. "It doesssn't matter. It never doesss. Give it a week and everyone will forget about thissss happening…"
I know she's right. I want to leave. I feel like if I look away, it'll follow me. Like it knows I caused it. Like I'll see it every time I close my eyes. I crawled backward with them, trying not to crunch any broken wood. Behind us, the air felt colder. Quieter. But not safe. Not really.
Just… not there.
We crawled backwards and ducked into the shadow of a boarded-up shop. The carnage was still within view. Littus flopped against a barrel like he'd been holding his breath for an hour. Avara coiled beside him, rubbing her temple like it hurt. I sat with my back to the wall, knees to my chest again, hood pulled low.
Blood rituals. Monsters with stolen faces. Magic that just slurps up bodies. I hate this town sometimes. I hate my life… I curled tighter into my bandages, watching the smoke rise from behind that monster like the city itself had been stabbed. Littus hadn't said anything in a bit, which was weird. Even Avara was quiet. Her tail was tight against her, her jaw clenched.
God, it's still hungry. It's gonna eat everyone. What if it gets to the markets? What if it finds that inn's alley? My spot? My— Then a shout cracked through the chaos like a bell.
"CLEAR PATH!"
The voice was familiar. Captain Brinks. I scrambled up on the balls of my feet and peeked around the corner again, ears flattening under my bandages. Littus gasped and climbed over me to see too, practically bouncing on my back. Avara didn't stop him. She was watching now, too.
He came riding in on a horse so dark it looked painted in ash. The guards split like water, letting him through. His armor was blue with gold trim, and his moustache had crumbs in it, like always. He didn't stop to give orders. He just jumped off the horse mid-gallop, yanked a heavy axe from his back, and slammed it straight into the monster.
The thing screeched. Real loud. Real angry. The kind of scream that made dogs cry and the air feel thick. Captain Brinks rolled out of the way just as the monster swung one of its awful arms down at him, carving a dent into the cobbles like it was slicing butter.
"Oh gods," Littus breathed. "He's gonna win. He's gonna win, right?!"
He's fighting it like it's just a wild dog. Like it's just another street brawl. He's not scared. Not even a little bit. How is he not scared? The captain swung again, this time for the face in the monster's chest. The blade bit into the cheek—into the face—and dark, clotted blood sprayed like ink.
"YEAH!" Littus shouted before Avara yanked him back down by the collar.
"Ssssilence," she hissed.
Captain Brinks glanced back at us for a split second and got clipped—one of the limbs slammed into his side and sent him flying. He bounced across the stone and crashed into a cart, wood splintering under his armor.
"No!" I gasped, hand flying to my mouth. No, no, no, get up, get up, you can't die, not you, you're the good one, you're the one who gives us soup, who calls us little foxes like it's a good thing, not an insult, you can't be gone!
The monster was moving toward him, slow and certain, gurgling from its belly-face. But then— Captain Brinks stood back up and charged. His shoulder was bleeding and his arm hung weird, but he still lifted the axe again. He didn't yell. He didn't roar. He grinned.
"You ugly sack of sin," he muttered, voice just loud enough to carry. "I've fought Oragoes with more manners!"
The guards roared behind him, emboldened. Magic flew. Crossbows sang. Captain Brinks slammed his axe down on the monster's back and climbed it like a hill, dragging the blade through its hunched shoulders until he reached the cursed, smiling face. The monster screamed again. It flailed. It shrieked. It hit him again. This time harder. He hit the ground like a dropped crate of apples, unmoving.
And the same things repeated. For hours, the song and dance of axe-blows and smashing. Captain Brinks slowly getting more hurt, trading blood for blood, wound for wound.
Only the Captain was getting it worse than the monster. Another hit and this time, when the captain tried to stand back up, he stumbled and fell back to his knees.
"Please get up. Please, please—" I whispered. Gods, please. Angels. Anything. I'll stop stealing bread. I'll stop hiding in the chapel ruins. I'll even be nice to Eiken if you just make him get up again!
He moved.
Slowly.
One arm. Then another.
He knelt. He looked at the thing rising over him. And then he laughed.
"Alright," he wheezed, "one last dance."
He pulled something from his coat. A vial. No, a… bomb? A bright purple vial glowing with alchemical light. The monster roared and charged, belly-mouth open. Captain Brinks ran at it. And then—
Then they both disappeared in a burst of purple fire, green sparks, red light and sound. The explosion knocked us flat despite how far away we were. Littus landed on my face. Avara covered us both with her tail, hissing through her teeth. Smoke rose. Guards shouted again. People screamed.
And the monster was gone.
Just gone.
But then… so was Captain Brinks.
The place where they'd collided was a blackened pit, still sizzling. Bits of the monster were scattered in puddles that steamed and hissed, dissolving. Nothing of the captain remained except the broken haft of his axe.
I stared.
So did the guards.
No one moved.
Littus sniffled.
"He did it," he whispered. "He actually did it."
Avara nodded, but didn't say anything. Her face looked stiff and strange, like she was biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from crying. I didn't cry. I couldn't. I was too busy shaking.
He's gone. He's really gone. He saved the city and he's gone. He's the one who smiled at me even when I smelled worse than dirt. He gave us warm soup. He made jokes about Littus' ears. He said I had sharp eyes like a detective. He said—
I tried to hold back the thoughts. Who's gonna smile at us when the others spit? Who's gonna pretend we're not garbage? Who's gonna give us bowls when the rest of the city gives us boots to the ribs?
I stared at the smoking pit, and finally, one more awful, awful, thought came to my mind. A thought that was so brazen and black-hearted, I almost regretted thinking it but I asked it out loud before I could stop it.
"Who's gonna give us food now?"
The other two looked at me. I didn't blink.
END