Seven hundred and seventy-four people had died. On average, thirty markers on the Grem Islands died every day. Chiefs travelled with the families of the deceased to Hillbrook Grem, the main island, where the bodies would be burned.

  Eden and Hamis stood together atop a hill, looking down into the valley of corpses.

  “Come with me today,” Eden said. “You can’t keep away forever.”

  Hamis shook his head. His mother did not argue. She wasn’t the type to.

  Eden strolled through the long grass, taking the long route along the mountainside rather than hovering down from the cliff like Hamis would have done.

  She joined her Henrikian friends at the edge of the funeral grounds. They were all men in uniform—Yellows from the Alangre Corps. Together, they watched the Grem place the bodies of their kin on the pyres, pressing coins into stiff palms, bowing their heads in prayer, waiting for the priest to arrive and give the final blessing.

  People often misunderstand the pain of losing someone you love. It is not metaphorical. It hurts as much as a knife wound or a blow to the head. It is real, and it lingers. Hamis knew this well. His heart had not been the same since that night. A tightness in his chest strained with every inhale. The ache followed him when he turned his torso too quickly or carried anything heavy.

  His mother blamed the mountains. The thin air, she said, would take time to adapt to. His lungs would adjust in a few months.

  Hamis sat in the grass at first, then dropped onto his back, hidden among the blades. Hands pressed to his chest, he stared at the clear blue sky and the yellow sun. Tears ran down the sides of his face. Even here, so far from home, he was still beneath the sun. And who knew—come tomorrow, the sun might take him too.

  A dog whimpered somewhere in the grass. Hamis looked up just as a shadow fell over him. It was not a dog but a tall, broad-chested man in grey.

  “Lazing off while the whole community works to serve each other,” the man said. “Not good form, Hammie. I expected much more from a Henrikian soldier.”

  “I’m not a soldier,” Hamis said, floating off the ground to meet the man eye to eye. “Who are you?”

  The man waved a hand. “I am Asmalu, chief of Hillbrook Grem, and your patriarch.” He placed his hand on Hamis’ head, pushing him gently to the ground.

  Asmalu yawned, plucked a stalk of grass, and nibbled at it. Then he lay back, closing his eyes. “You called me lazy, yet here you are doing the same thing,” accused Hamis.

  “Didn’t you hear me? I’m the chief here. I get to do what I want. Besides, isn’t this what a Henrikian expects Grem simpletons to be doing all day?”

  “I’m not like that.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you are—you just won’t admit it. You’re better than wool-brained savages who spend their days on nonsensical burial rituals. That’s why you can’t be bothered to show up at the funerals. That’s what your fellow soldiers say.”

  “Well, I’m not a soldier,” Hamis said, calmer this time. “Or I’m no longer going to be. I always thought it was… stupid.”

  Asmalu hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head, examining Hamis. “So… you must be lazy.”

  “I’m not,” Hamis replied, breaking free from the time spell. He rose to his feet and glanced over the valley. The bodies wrapped in white smouldered within the pyres. “I just don’t want to be around dead people right now.”

  Asmalu returned to humming, closing his eyes and sniffing the pollen. “A crazy old woman spoke to me in my dreams last night,” the chief said. “’Despair will kill you’, she said. Those who died—and those yet to die—are the faint-hearted among the Grem.”

  “That’s not true,” Hamis snorted. “It can’t be true, right?”

  “Let’s wait and see,” Asmalu said. “I’d bet your life you won’t make it past the week unless you find your heart again.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “She’s crazy,” said Asmalu. “It can’t be helped.”

  “Chief, I’m not calling you an idiot, but I already have a heart,” Hamis said, knocking on his chest. “I guess you can’t hear it through all this wool I’m wearing, but I promise, I’m not some kind of vampire.”

  “Oh, I know. We ate the last ones that wandered here. You look nothing like the blood suckers.”

  Hamis chuckled tightly. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”

  “Your chief goes out of his way to cheer you up, and this is how you respond?”

  Hamis laughed as best he could—and this time, he didn’t have to fake it. The knots in his shoulders loosened. He bent backward, taking in as much pollen-laden air as he could. “Thanks, man,” he said.

  “You’re going to be fun to have around,” Asmalu murmured to himself. Then, more openly, he said to Hamis, “Remember to find your heart before despair finds you.”

  “How do I do that?”

  “You can start by searching in the fire,” Asmalu replied. “Lend a hand where you can, but don’t get in the way.”

  Hamis saluted reflexively, then rubbed his face as if that had been his plan all along. He grinned and backed away, rising from the hill until he was no longer walking on solid ground. “See you,” he called to the lazing chief, and dropped four hundred meters into the valley below.

  He floated above the smokeless white fires he had avoided for so long. Spirith—a colourless liquid stored in small jars—ignited white flames wherever it touched. Hamis remembered seeing it the first time a sailor had died. That day, he had also learned that the Grem do not bury their dead. In Hexism, cremation was considered sacrilegious and was reserved for the lowliest of people, which is why ascenders were never buried.

  Following Asmalu’s advice, Hamis hovered through the pyre-filled valley, scanning for anyone who needed help. All he received were sneers and sidelong glances. Some spat at the ground and muttered insults he didn’t bother to translate.

  What bothered him more was how no one seemed to be using their powers. From carrying bodies to stacking logs for the pyres, everything was done by hand.

  A group of boys struggled with heavy logs coming down the mountainside. Hamis swooped in. “You can let go now—I’ll take it from here,” he said, manipulating the logs through the natural flow of time. The boys clung to them, resisting far more than he expected. No smiles. No thanks.

  Finally, he set his foot on the ground, ruffled his hair, and grinned. “Sorry,” he said aloud. “I got a little excited.”

  The boys looked to the one in front. He was about Hamis’ age, with two braids of metallic-black hair dangling at the front of his face. If he’d never come to the Grem, he’d have died thinking all markers looked like him. All the markers he’d known up to this point had grey or white hair, with Eden being the only exception, hers a faded brown. The boys in front of him had brown or black hair; most of them kept it long, wearing braids and ponytails.

  “We don’t do that,” the boy said, running his eyes up and down Hamis. “Stop it.”

  “What, float?” asked Hamis, floating higher. “Of course I can. You guys are markers too; why are you making this harder for yourselves?”

  “Because we’re not allowed,” the boy said, scanning the valley. “Move.”

  Hamis floated aside, watching the boys march down with their logs. He stepped to the floor and joined the last group to pass, holding up the log on one side too. He chuckled, excusing himself again, but they let him stick with them.

  “Why do you need permission to use your powers?” he asked them. The boys holding onto the log with him looked in all directions but his. “I think it’s silly. Telling a marker not to use their powers is like telling a bird not to fly—or the sun not to shine.” The boys halted on the track, grunting at Hamis. “Sorry, did I say something wrong?”

  “Dues!”

  A couple of soldiers waved at him from under the only tree in the valley. They leaned against the trunk, top buttons open, clinging onto satchels. He floated, paused mid-air, then dropped to the ground and walked. It sucked so badly, dealing with gravity. After taking three steps, his knees gave in. The soldiers exchanged looks, shrugging at each other as they observed Hamis. After ten steps, he stepped in poop. He groaned, rubbing his foot in the reeds.

  “What made you come here today?” one Yellow asked. “We’ve hardly seen you since you arrived.”

  “I’ve not been around,” said Hamis. “It’d be better if I got to know everyone though.”

  “We get it. It’s rough,” another said. “I haven’t been home for so long, I’m starting to forget what my wife’s face looks like.”

  They got distracted by the soldier’s remark. His friends nudged him in the ribs, mocking him by saying he had forgotten his wife a day after he’d left for sea. They wound back on Hamis and asked him what was happening back at home.

  “We don’t get a lot of news from home.”

  “Don’t you have phones?”

  “It’s reserved for the Commissioner. He keeps it in his office at the outpost. Even then, the reception is terrible.”

  “But you could just buy one,” said Hamis. “I’m sure the next ship to arrive could bring some over.”

  The men broke into brief laughter. “Even if we spent all our monies on that, we doubt the Commissioner would share his comm tower with us.”

  Towers and outposts? They’d never seen smartphones in their lives. Hamis explained as best as he could, but it only confused them more. They eventually brushed it off, saying they would all be returning home at the end of the year. Fresh recruits would be coming to take over the forces stationed on the islands.

  “Was Jacqolin really not alright when he arrived in Henrikia?” they asked him. “The Commissioner told us to expect the worst, but we don’t want to believe that.”

  “The last I heard, he was at the hospital,” said Hamis. “Sorry, but I wouldn’t know much.”

  “Don’t you have one of those wireless phones?”

  “I left in a hurry, so I kind of left everything behind.”

  “Understandable,” the soldier said. “It’s the only thing in common with the stories we’ve heard. Our motherland is in chaos. And now this.” He gestured to the burning. “We’re lucky we’ve broken them enough as is. Had this happened just three years ago, we’d all be dead by now.”

  Hamis wasn’t in the mood for the direction the conversation was heading. “I have to go,” he said, backing away. “I have to take care of some stuff.”

  “Piece of advice, young Deus,” the Yellow bent to Hamis’ ear. “Stay away from the savages, yeah? They may look nice, but trust me, they bite. If you need anything, you can always come to us. We’ve got your back, yeah?”

  Hamis stood a few metres behind the boy with the braids. The boy stood with an elderly woman, head bowed, as she muttered chants over the body wrapped in white. When she was done, the boy picked up a bottle of spirith and dipped it on the head. The white fire ignited at once, burning hot but not spreading. He dripped a few drops on the body’s neck and torso, and the white flames followed their path.

  He was about to let another drop loose when he stopped and glowered over his shoulder. “What do you want?” he snapped at Hamis.

  “I was just looking.”

  The boy spat on the ground and said a slur Hamis did not understand.

  “Olande!” the old woman gasped, slapping the boy on the head. “Fool!” She pushed his head down into a forced bow. “We are sorry, Master Deus,” she said. “My grandson is not trained.”

  Hamis wasn’t sure what to say. He hadn’t meant to cause a scene. His mouth worked, eager to let her know it was all right—more than all right.

  “There is no need for this, Maa,” Eden said from behind Hamis. “It was a misunderstanding.”

  “Renna Nyte,” the woman stiffened in her bow. “Please punish him.”

  Eden placed a firm hand on Hamis’ head. For a moment, he thought she was about to force him to bow as well.

  “My son has a lot to learn about our ways, but I can assure you he meant no offence. Olande.”

  “Ma,” the boy said, raising his head.

  “I leave Hamis in your care,” she said. “Keep him out of trouble when I can’t.”

  “As you say, Ma,” he said without hesitation.

  Eden made her way back to the edge of the valley, where the Commissioner stood. She gestured for Hamis to follow her. Olande stayed with his grandmother, stiff-faced, keeping an eye on Hamis.

  “Young Master Deus,” the Commissioner greeted. “It’s an honour to meet our revered Chancellor’s grandson in person. The last time I saw you, the world was a much simpler place.”

  He had a twinkle in his purple eyes and slick black hair combed too tightly. His yellow uniform was a darker shade than the rest of the soldiers’, and he wore black leather gloves. Judging from their broad chests and towering height over the Commissioner, the men guarding him were both natives of the Grem.

  “Hamis, this is Commissioner Grieves,” said Eden. “He is the man in charge of the Grem Islands. Jacqolin and I used to serve under his command.”

  “And you still do.”

  “I am retired.”

  “Eden, you must reconsider your position.”

  “I am retired, Sir. That will be all.”

  Commissioner Grieves formed a ball over his mouth, squealing faintly. “You wouldn’t mind filling in for your mother, Hamis. I hear you’re a Gaverian now.”

  “No, thank you,” said Hamis. “And I’m not a Gaverian. I failed at Se Fina.”

  “Earthen Ascenders, Sovisansel, war with Sexton, Swayer’s infiltration, and not a single Gaverian to spare. Simpler times before you were born. Anyway, welcome to the island. Do not make trouble for me, and I won’t make any for you.”

  Those who had finished cremating their kinsmen did not return to the boats that had brought them to Hillbrook. Instead, they followed the path up the hill, on top of which Asmalu stood, hand raised in invitation. A thinning fog covered what the long grasses could not, and yet he made out what seemed to be a dog, sitting on its haunches near Asmalu’s feet. It had its tongue out, looking right at Hamis.

  “Eden, look,” he said, tugging her arm.

  “What?” Eden pulled her arm back, frowning as she searched. “Don’t call me by my first name when we’re in public.”

  The dog was no longer there. It wasn’t running down the edge of the hill, nor was it weaving through the legs of the moving crowd.

  “Right, sorry,” said Hamis, wondering if he’d seen right. To be fair, finding it with so many people moving now would be quite difficult.

  “Will you be joining us at the feast today?” Eden asked. “I’m running out of excuses for why you haven’t yet shown up.”

  Eden handed Hamis over to Olande, who took Hamis to the palace for the first time. It stood in the middle of the plains, surrounded by several brick houses fenced off with metal mesh. The most prominent among them was the large prism-shaped structure made of sticks and hide. The inside was far larger than the outside, packed with people who had come to eat and drink.

  It was dark, the only light coming from white-flamed torches hanging from poles around the room. The tables were low to the ground, leaving guests to sit on mats. The room buzzed with voices overlapping, friends calling to one another from across tables. It seemed to be a kind of reunion for most of them.

  For entertainment while they ate, guests tossed slivers of meat to the dogs, who bit and scratched at each other to get it. The recurring laughter echoed throughout the room.

  Soot, alcohol, sizzling meat, and the lingering scent of pollen filled the air. Hamis sniffed it in, marching further inside. Before he could enter fully, Olande caught him by the shoulder and gestured to his coat. Olande pointed to a mound of coats in the corner of the room. As more guests poured in, those wearing overcoats removed them, tossing them onto the pile. Those leaving picked whichever coat they could find and ran off.

  “Hey, everyone,” said Hamis, waving at the people eating. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

  He wasn’t as loud as the grown-ups, so no one heard him. Olande picked a spot near the middle, behind a long table that was already packed. Somehow, they managed to squeeze in.

  Olande picked two plates from a stack and filled them with balls of whatever food it was. He piled tomatoes, lettuce, and onions on one side of the plate, added chunks of meat, and poured sauce over it. He pressed it down with a second plate, adding another layer of groundnuts, fried cocoyams, and smoked fish. Then he placed the plate in front of Hamis.

  “Do you want some more?” Olande asked — which was something people usually asked at the end of a meal.

  Hamis blinked at the plate and stretched his lips into a grin. “Where do I wash my…” He trailed off, glancing around. An infant was clutching a chicken thigh, gnawing at it with her tiny teeth while the dogs licked at both ends of the bone. Hamis rubbed his hands together, but he had to ask.

  “Aren’t you a bit uncomfortable?”

  “Mm?” went Olande, mouth full of beans and eggs.

  “We’ve been burning corpses all morning. Shouldn’t we at least wash our hands first? You know, because of germs and stuff?”

  Olande hissed at one of the waitresses serving drinks. He raised two fingers at her. She dropped two large mugs of alcohol on their table. Olande raised both glasses and downed them.

  “What’s that?” asked Olande. “Germs? Never heard of them.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “There are no germs on the Grem.”

  “If you say so,” said Hamis, shrugging. He picked the fish by the tail, ready to eat, when Olande slapped his hand.

  “Don’t use your left hand to eat,” Olande said. “That’s dirty.”

  “Ow, sorry,” mumbled Hamis.

  The taste of fish on the Grem Islands was a different experience. It wasn’t something you could describe to someone—it felt like a holiday. You know that feeling when you’re in bed on a Sunday night and remember you don’t have to go anywhere tomorrow because Monday’s a holiday? That was it. And the sauce on the meat—it was like giving his tongue a tiny hug. The food was so good he couldn’t help himself; he kept shovelling more into his mouth. Tears formed and his cheeks reddened.

  “Hamis.”

  Hamis looked up. He stopped chewing for a moment, staring into the eyes of the girl standing in front of him.

  “Princess,” Olande said, breathless. He bowed his head and nudged Hamis to do the same. “We are grateful for the meal. It has brought us great satisfaction.”

  The girl was oddly lean compared to everyone else Hamis had seen on the island. She stood out in another way too—one he could relate to. Her hair was as white as his grandfather’s.

  “What brings you to our table, my lady?” said Olande, still bowing.

  “You talk too much, Olande,” the girl said. “I’m not here for you. You can eat in peace.”

  Olande shot daggers at Hamis with his eyes, urging him to stand. Hamis did rise, caught between sneaking another piece of the buttery, doughy corn food into his mouth or waiting until he returned from whatever business the princess wanted with him. He stopped himself from floating over the dining table, leading instead to an awkward stumble over plates and glasses as he hobbled to the girl’s side.

  She stepped away, hissing as she raised her leg. He’d stepped on her by accident. Hamis apologised, trying to steady her. “It’s okay,” she said, still seething. “Just walk. My father and the elders are waiting for you.”

  “Where?”

  “At the high table.”

  Hamis spun in a full circle, still lost.

  “Are you blind?”

  “Kind of,” said Hamis, chuckling.

  She paused, then chuckled as well. “Come on.”

  The girl led the way around the tables. “Watch your step. There are shards everywhere.” She stopped short of a pool of murky yellowish liquid soaking through a mat. With a sigh, she pinched up her skirt and stepped carefully over the vomit. “I don’t know how long I can keep up with these savages.”

  “You can’t say that,” said Hamis, coming closer to her. “That’s not nice.”

  The girl pointed to a group of men surrounding two contenders in a drinking competition. They were drumming on the tables while the bystanders chanted, “Drink, drink, drink.” Just beyond them, a bald, broad man with a deep scar across his head grabbed one of the serving girls and forced her onto his lap, insisting she drink with him.

  The princess noticed too. She picked up a bone from the ground and whistled sharply at the man, striking him square in the forehead.

  “Hands off my girls!” she yelled.

  The man glowered, wiping sauce from his head while his friends laughed him out of the room.

  It was no surprise Hamis hadn’t found the high table—it was literally high above the hall. To reach it, they crossed the room over suspended planks that led to a hidden chamber above the ceiling.

  The noise below was muffled here by a surrounding marker field, likely produced by the hexes painted along the walls. The room had tables and chairs adorned with glittering ornaments. The lights glowed a sombre gold, and portraits—black and white photographs—hung on the walls.

  Eden and the Commissioner were the first two people he recognised, seated opposite Asmalu, the chief of Hillbrook Grem. Beside them sat a small old man with white hair at the head of the table, and two women—one as slender as the princess, the other plump.

  Then there was a man who made Hamis’s heart stop. He had his back turned, but his white hair and stature reminded Hamis so much of Firios that, for a moment, he believed his uncle had returned from the dead. Three other boys, all around Hamis’ age, were present as well, eating quietly with forks and knives.

  “Nalu, thank you for fetching him,” said Asmalu. “Can you run downstairs and refill this bottle for me?”

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  He picked up a tall bottle and dropped it. It shattered, jerking everyone upright. Commissioner Grieves wiped his mouth with his napkin, craning his neck to see what had caused the commotion. The boys behind the table deepened their frowns. The oldest clenched his fist, rubbing his thumb over a silver ring on his index finger.

  The man who resembled Firios was the first to move. He looked pointedly at Eden, then, without a word, walked over to Asmalu and knelt to pick up the shards. Asmalu seemed stunned—a far cry from the laid-back, lazy, carefree man Hamis had met out in the fields.

  “It will take some time to get used to it,” said the man who resembled Firios.

  When he was done, he poured the shards into the princess’s hand, folded her fingers over them, and watched as she crushed them. She left the room in haste.

  The man remained standing, his head nearly brushing the ceiling. He was one of the few men on the island without a beard.

  “Hamis Deus,” he said. “Come—allow me to introduce you to the royals of our humble island.”

  “Kings and queens do not exist,” the Commissioner interrupted. “Only Rheina is king.”

  “Of course. Forgive me, Commissioner,” the man said smoothly. “We are still adjusting to our new way of life—as you could tell from my brother’s little accident just now.”

  No words were exchanged, but the warnings sent his way were clear enough. Choosing not to press the point, he continued instead, “My name is Raika, brother to Asmalu, our chief. These are my brother’s wives—Isone, his first wife, and Ghela, his second. These boys here are the future of the Grem: Dasu, Asmalu the Younger, and Maika.”

  “And who are you?” Hamis asked, pointing to the old man at the head of the table.

  “Not important,” said the old man with a bark of laughter. “Raika doesn’t acknowledge my existence. I could walk right across this table, piss in his mouth, and he’d hardly flinch.”

  “This is our uncle,” said Asmalu, “Hemaika, chief of Ossen Grem.”

  “I came here to be the eyes of your grandmother,” Hemaika said, rising to his feet. “She asked me to tell you this: she has your missing heart. Come to her when you’re ready.”

  “I have a grandmother?” said Hamis.

  “She’s the crazy woman I told you about,” said Asmalu.

  “I want to see her right now,” said Hamis.

  “Absolutely not.” Eden rose to her feet. It startled everyone—she’d been so quiet that most had forgotten she was even there. Realising the attention she’d drawn, she apologised and sat back down. Hamis knew better than to press the matter.

  “You have earned every right to speak as our equal, Eden,” said Asmalu. “If your will prevents Hamis from meeting his grandmother, so be it.”

  Hemaika scoffed and returned to his meal.

  “It is out of respect for your mother that we brought you here,” said Raika. “Now that you have become one of us—a true marker of the Grem—we owe you our loyalty and service. Consider this conversation our official recognition of you as a son of Hillbrook.”

  Eden tipped her head, signalling a bow. Hamis did so with as much grace as he could manage.

  “Can I go back now?” he asked.

  The corners of Raika’s lips curled. “Not after your introduction.”

  All the men and women gathered in the hall broke from feasting for an important announcement. Nalu stood on an upturned crate, taller than Hamis. She took him by the wrist and held him up for all to see.

  “We have lost many a brother, many a son, and many fathers. What the sun has taken will never be replaced. But here, I bring you a new son, a new brother, and a friend to all the Grem.

  “He comes from the line of Manessah — a fisherman from Ossen Grem — who was the father of San Manessah, fisherman from Ossen Grem; father of Yan Manessah, fisherman from Ossen Grem. Yan Manessah moved to Jamerson after he was exiled for theft, and there he fathered his bastard son, Hemaika, a fisherman in the earthen colonies.

  “Hasini the Compassionate, Chief of Ossen Grem, called Hemaika from Jamerson, reinstating the Manessah line after seventy years in exile. Hemaika’s bastard, Hemaya, changed his name to Ha Manessah, who worked as a fisherman in Ossen Grem. Ha Manessah fathered Manessah-Manessah, a shepherd and peddler of goods across the Grem. He raised bastard twins in Jamerson, one of whom was Demaika.

  “Demaika and his sister would walk the streets of Jamerson until Hasini the Bountiful, Chief of Ossen Grem, brought them back home. Demaika did not remain on the Grem; he stowed away on a trading vessel and arrived at the western land, Dominus. The Henrikian chiefs accepted him as their own, giving him the name De-meetle Daay-yus.

  “Daay-yus became a hero and ruler of Henrikia. Daay-yus fathered Sirios Daay-yus — a merchant and rapist, as told by Eden Nyte of Henrikia. Sirios fathered Haa-mis Daay-yus of Henrikia, now Haa-mis of the Grem.

  “He is our new brother, our new son, and a father to your children. Accept him!”

  The room erupted in a roar of approval. Hamis beamed, grinning as the crowd stomped their feet in rhythm.

  “It’s so nice to meet you all!” he shouted, though no one could hear his voice of gratitude — not that it mattered. They celebrated his arrival with a round of drinks for everyone.

  Princess Nalu took him by the hand, weaving through the tables until they emerged into an open-air kitchen. Dozens of girls were moving quickly, carrying trays of corn balls, meat, and pots of mashed potatoes. Women sat behind chopping blocks, hacking at bloodied meat with machetes.

  The dogs no longer fought over scraps; they lay on their sides with swollen bellies, swishing their tails lazily at the flies. Large metal pots sat on fires, stirred by two women with long wooden paddles. Another woman tilted a metallic barrel, fetching water to fill a smaller can. Beside it sat two more cans — one full of alcohol, the other of spirith.

  “Everyone, pay attention to me,” Nalu called out, pausing the bustle. “You’ve done well today. We’re taking the rest of the day off. Go to the waters, relax, and have fun. I’ll be joining you — with my good friend Hamis.”

  The last part shocked both Hamis and the girls. A few stole long looks at him, then turned to whisper and giggle with their friends whenever he glanced their way. Others didn’t care at all; they were already out of the kitchen, heading across the fields towards the pools.

  “I don’t have my swimsuit with me,” he said to Nalu. “I’m sorry, but I can’t come.”

  “Swimsuit?” someone said beside him. He hadn’t noticed her standing there — an older girl, slightly taller than him. “What is that?”

  Hamis asked, “What do you guys wear to swim?”

  Nalu and the other girl exchanged looks. “We don’t wear anything,” said Nalu. They immediately broke out in laughter — probably because of the expression on his face.

  A grin forced its way onto his face. He rubbed his hands through his hair, stammering. “I don’t think I should come with you,” he said, backing away. “We just met, and there’ll be so many of your friends there.”

  “Sambala and I have wanted to meet you for years,” said Nalu. “We’ve been curious ever since we learned that Eden had a son.” They closed in on him again, taking him by the arm. “You can close your eyes if you’re shy, but we’re taking you there.”

  “Nalu, why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” a girl whined, approaching from the palace. Nalu seethed and picked up her pace, rushing out of the kitchen while yanking Hamis along.

  “Nalu, wait for me!”

  It was a girl about half Hamis’ height, white-haired and lean like Nalu herself. She was doing her best to catch up to them.

  “Hisone, I am right here,” said Nalu, giving up. “We weren’t leaving for the pool. I just wanted to show Hamis around the palace.”

  Hisone lost her words when she noticed Hamis. She slipped to Sambala’s side, hiding behind the taller girl and peeping out.

  “Mother says he’s a Henrikian,” Hisone whispered to Sambala. “He’s dangerous.”

  “No, I’m not,” said Hamis. “Look.” He pulled a silly face.

  Hisone screamed, tripping and falling on her backside. She scrunched up her face, reddening as Hamis approached to apologise. “No, no, please don’t cry.”

  Her whimpering was drowned out by a sudden growl. All the bloated dogs had risen to their feet, baring their fangs towards the palace chamber. Hamis peeled away from Nalu and her friends, the ache in his heart amplifying.

  The dog he’d been searching for was standing in the middle of the hall, tongue out and watching him. He didn’t know how he recognised it, but he just knew it was the same one.

  At a spark, the dogs in the kitchen launched into an attack, charging at it. Hamis bolted through the kitchen, screaming for it to run. He crashed into the hall, knocking over tables.

  It might not have been the first time that day he’d had all eyes on him, but this was one of the moments he wished he were invisible.

  “He’s an odd one, all right.” The comment came from one of two women standing beside his mother, all three towering above him.

  Just as he’d noticed before, not many people on the island had variation in hair colour. Eden was among the few who did — along with these two women. Each had Eden’s straw-coloured hair, braided into a rope as long as hers. The more he stared, the clearer it became: they weren’t identical, but there was a definite resemblance.

  “Hamis, these are my blood sisters — your aunties. Himisse, our eldest, and Massu, my elder.”

  “Hey.”

  “Hamis.”

  “Sorry,” said Hamis quickly. He bowed. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  “He has no manners,” said Himisse, slapping the top of his head.

  “And he’s still boyish,” said Massu, tilting his chin up.

  “No physical training,” said Himisse, poking at his belly.

  “And his diet is poor,” said Massu, spreading his lips to inspect his teeth.

  “Ya, you’ve got some work to do,” said Himisse. “A lot of work.”

  “No wonder the younger one died,” said Massu. “Henrikia truly is poison to our people.”

  “I know,” said Eden. “That’s why I brought him here.”

  The three of them grunted, narrowing their eyes on Hamis at the same time. It was as though they saw smoke rising from his head. Then, all at once, they relaxed, their demeanour softening.

  “Why don’t we spend some time by the pool,” suggested Massu, placing a hand on Hamis’ back, “so you can get to know your favourite aunties.”

  The pools — or perhaps ponds — were carved into black stone at various points along the mountain. Several sat right at the edge of cliffs. Heat caused steam to rise from the clear water, cloaking the place in a light mist. It wasn’t thick enough to hide the naked bodies moving past him. Clothes lay in heaps; shoes were scattered everywhere. He shut his eyes when his mum and aunties began to strip down, and he kept them shut, pressed close against the wall.

  “Get in, son. There’s nothing you have we’ve not already seen,” one of them said.

  The stone was warm beneath his bare feet. He slit his eyes just enough to find his way into the water. It tingled, setting off tiny sparks of electricity along his skin. His stupid grin formed again. His mother and aunties had their hair wrapped in tight coils atop their heads. None of them seemed to feel the slightest bit of embarrassment.

  “I do not like this at all,” said Massu — or at least, who he thought was Massu.

  “He’s ruining the water too.”

  “Just like he ruins the air.”

  “I’ve not peed in here,” said Hamis defensively. “And I’m sorry if I farted, but could you not hold that against me? I’m still not used to the food.”

  “They weren’t talking about that,” Eden cut him off.

  “You make the water colder,” said Massu.

  “And the air frost,” said Himisse.

  “You strain my lungs,” said Massu.

  “You weaken the heart,” said Himisse, poking at Hamis’ chest.

  Massu grabbed him by the chin and lifted his gaze to meet hers. She’d painted her fingernails black — the only thing distinguishing her from Himisse at that moment.

  “What is wrong with you?” she asked. “Why are you so angry?”

  “Just like our own, Ya,” Himisse continued, smirking at a frowning Eden. “You keep everything bottled inside, exploding at inconvenient times.”

  Hamis pulled away from the two, backing himself into a corner. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with a straight face.

  “You’re angry,” said Massu, stopping at a safe distance.

  “The way you breathe, your strain on the flow of time — it’s abnormal. You will die if things don’t change. And your mother will watch it happen.”

  “Leave him alone, please,” said Eden. “Hamis is fine.”

  Himisse measured Eden with her eyes, ignoring her plea. “Have you seen anything strange recently? Things that aren’t really there, perhaps?”

  Hamis’ lips dried. He slouched a bit to ease the pain in his chest. “A dog,” he spoke into the water. “It keeps following me.”

  Eden stopped breathing. His aunties approached from opposite ends, each taking one of his ears for themselves.

  “Was it small, but not too small?”

  “Did it have a pointed nose?”

  “Do you remember the colour of its eyes?”

  Hamis tried — he really did — but the details slipped away from him. “I don’t think it was a dog,” he murmured. “More like a—”

  “Fox,” finished Eden.

  His aunties broke away from Hamis, turning to Eden. She looked aside. “I see it too. Stay away from it.”

  “What does it mean?” asked Hamis.

  “It’s a sign of your death, like we said,” said Himisse.

  “The fox steals the faint-hearted to Ossenrath,” said Massu.

  “And they never come back,” finished Himisse.

  “Avoid it if you can, Hamis,” said Eden. “Until we find a way to get rid of it.”

  “Hey! Hamis!” a boy shouted from the top of the highest cliff. “How are you, Hamis?” He waved.

  “I’m fine!” shouted Hamis, waving back.

  “Do you want to eat mangoes with me?” the boy called again.

  “Sure!” Hamis yelled, spinning out of the water. The droplets shot away from him, seeping out of his hair and spilling back into the pool. He grabbed a pair of trousers and boots from the pile on the stone, climbing up the mountain. A shirt and tunic flew up into his hands. He was fully dressed by the time he reached the top.

  “Woah,” the boy said in awe. He was caressing a mango in one hand, gawking at Hamis from head to toe.

  “Hey, who are you?” said Hamis.

  “Kade,” the boy said. “Olande was telling us about you.” He sucked on his mango. “I said, ‘this Hamis guy must be great. I want to meet him.’ Olande told me not to come, though. He says you’re not ready to see us yet. Are you related to Mighty Hamis?”

  “I’d love to meet your friends.”

  “I’ll take you right now.”

  Kade had short black hair made up of tiny braids. On the way to the tree, he pulled out a mango from his tunic, rubbed it on the fabric, and handed it to Hamis. The taste made Hamis flush red, and soon he was plucking the plump fruit from the top of the tree with his new friends — the Hill Boys.

  Once they’d eaten their fill, they lay on their backs, escaping the afternoon sun. Flies did not bother them. Whenever one of them flew too close, they’d freeze in time on a spider’s web. Henrikian spiders exploded when they got anxious, but the ones on the island cast time spells. He didn’t mind that the boys sniggered at how fascinated he was by spiders. None of them found it remotely exciting that all the ones Hamis had caught had marker hexes naturally forming on their backs.

  He soon grew bored of his new discovery after realising he had no one to share it with. Jenne would’ve lost his mind at this. Ms Class always said it was theoretically possible for animals to manipulate ascension in complex ways — this proved that theory. Hamis had not even got the chance to say goodbye to her.

  A chicken clucked wildly as it ran their way, chased by two dogs and a screaming woman behind. A few of the Hill Boys hopped off the trees to the rescue. “We protect Hillbrook Island,” Kade had said when he introduced them to Hamis. “Now that the men are all dead, it’s the boys who have to do it.”

  Olande stood in the middle of the fields, peeing out in the open. When he saw Hamis staring, he raised his eyebrows. He rejoined them under the tree, resting beside Hamis against the trunk. “What’s it like growing up in the city?” he asked.

  “Fun,” said Hamis. “Me and my friends would meet up and play games all day. And there are places like this too. We have huge parks you can run around in, but we have food stalls and open bars, you can eat chocolate whenever you want — and the best part is, everyone loves you because you’re an ascender.”

  They awed.

  “Ma Eden says it is poison,” said Olande. “I’m sure you’re exaggerating. You’re telling us the good stuff.”

  “Nope, it was totally fine,” said Hamis.

  “So why did you come here?” Olande asked. “What about the hunger? Jacqolin told us your people were dying of hunger — that’s why they came here for food.”

  “I don’t know why he said that, but there’s plenty of food in Henrikia,” said Hamis. “You can go to malls and they have shelves packed with all kinds of stuff.”

  “How about your stone rites?” said Olande. “Who helped you pass them?”

  Hamis vaguely remembered his grandfather mentioning it once. It was some kind of rite of passage for boys entering puberty.

  “Mmm, this one is too good,” Kade said, shivering from the mango in his mouth. “I can’t have it. It’s too good. Hamis, you have it.”

  “I don’t want—”

  Kade popped the mango out of his mouth, and it looked… fresh.

  “How did you know it was good when you haven’t even eaten it yet?” asked Hamis.

  “I did eat it,” said Kade. “And I will die for this mango. Take it.”

  Hamis wasn’t getting it. He got to his feet and grinned. “Is this some trick?” he asked. He bit into the mango, popped it into his mouth, and stared at it.

  “Do you like it?” Kade asked, his big round eyes gleaming.

  “Did you swap this one out with another mango behind your sleeves?” he said. “I saw you do that trick at the cliffside, when you came to fetch me.” Hamis pointed to Olande. “Is he a magician?”

  “Kade’s too dumb for that,” Olande said.

  “I don’t even have pockets.” Kade raised his tunic for Hamis to see. He really didn’t have pockets.

  “Wait, then the only explanation is that you actually made this mango fresh again?” Hamis’ mouth formed a big ‘O’. “How?”

  The boys found his confusion funny. It got them teasing Kade that he was a secret genius.

  “Kade’s marking is broken,” Olande said. “His mother’s pot hit him on the head when he was still learning to walk. He’s been that way ever since.”

  “But it’s impossible,” said Hamis, examining the specimen that was Kade. “How do you cast traceback spells so casually? I don’t understand. No one has that much ascension in them.”

  “Hamis, please stop, you’ll break his brain,” Olande said, pulling Hamis away from Kade, who had his head in his hands, sobbing.

  “I’m sorry,” said Hamis, placing a hand on Kade. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Stop whining all the time, Kade,” a boy in the branch said. “You’re too soft.”

  “Leave him alone,” Olande said.

  “You’re doing him no favours. Remember what Dasu did to him the last time he cried.”

  Dasu, Dasu, Dasu. That name sounded familiar. The names he’d learnt today were starting to get jumbled up in his head. “Kade, do you want to go back into the box?”

  “Wait, who’s Dasu, and why’s he putting you in the box?”

  The boys went quiet. One by one, they dropped out of the branches and disappeared.

  “You met him already, didn’t you?” said Olande. “When Nalu came for you, back at the palace.”

  Nalu was the princess. “Right, he was in the upper room with Asmalu.”

  “He’s Asmalu’s son, and the leader of the Hill Boys. I’m his second-in-command. Dasu taught us everything we know. Well, until the ban. His methods can be rough, but his heart’s in the right place. He didn’t mean to harm Kade.”

  Hamis nodded at that, remembering Dasu more clearly — the boy with the ring. He’d hardly noticed Hamis when he walked into that room. “Hamis, inside,” his mother called. After saying his goodbyes, he left for home, not yet exhausted despite the day being far from over.

  The neighbourhood Eden and Hamis lived in did not have a name yet. Eden had been on the zoning committee until her sudden resignation from the Henrikian Army. It was one of the places under constant development. Since he arrived, soldiers and Grem construction workers had been turning up to continue building. They were nearly finished with a school and a church, and were laying proper roads for cars.

  Eden’s house was small. Compared to his home in Henrikia, this house would have been a single room. She kept a fence around her compound to keep goats from messing up her gardens. And if there was one thing Eden liked to talk about, it was gardening.

  On his first morning, he’d seen her outside tending to it. After weeks at sea, the plants had needed nurturing. Hamis had to listen to her drone on and on about seed types, how to nurse them, the moisture levels of each kind of soil and the nutrients they required.

  “I want to show you something,” she said once they reached her gate. They trekked some distance, passing through narrow fields of rolled-up hay, past pastures full of sheep and around rolling steads.

  Jacqolin’s presence was everywhere. It was the first thing any ascender would notice once they set foot on the island, and that presence had been growing stronger since the start of their journey. Eden brought him to a sea of green grass, patterned with forked black lines and sparks of electricity. Hamis escaped gravity for a moment, rising up the Z-plane. He waited for the spark again before pointing out its source. He gasped.

  Lightning arced beneath the soil in multiple directions, charring the grass along its path. “Get down,” Eden said. “Try to limit how much you use your powers.”

  “But it’s fine if we do — we’re not technically Grem,” Hamis protested.

  “Don’t assume you’re Henrikian,” Eden said. “Jacqolin, Schemel, all those Gaverians you grew up loving — they don’t see you as Henrikian.”

  “You’re the one who made us leave,” Hamis mumbled.

  “Three years ago, Asmalu and Raika assembled the largest army in a last attempt to drive us out of the Grem. They joined forces with all the chiefs, rounding up the best warriors to defend their people. It took years of secret dealings, training and strategizing to gather the strength they needed. Do you know what Jacqolin told me when he heard about their plan to storm our barracks? ‘Let’s take our time and slaughter them bit by bit. We don’t want to spoil the fun after just an hour.’ He offered no negotiations nor a path to peace.”

  “Did he?”

  “Five hundred men gathered here to protect their land,” Eden said. “Guess how many Jacqolin killed in an instant?”

  “I don’t want to.”

  “Good.”

  Unlike Kade, Hamis found pockets in the new pair of trousers he’d got from the poolside. He slid his hands into them. “What happened at the palace today? When Asmalu dropped the glass, you were all spooked.”

  “I arranged a meeting between Asmalu and our army after Jacqolin proved he had no interest in it. At the negotiation table, Asmalu came to his senses and realised it was pointless to resist. He agreed to my terms in exchange for the lives of his people. We mandated that the surviving warriors receive a Shaphet’s Law tattoo.”

  “You were the one who banned the markers from using their powers.”

  “I proposed it,” she clarified. “Commissioner Grieves implemented it. But I insisted we limit it to those who fought in the battle itself — not the poor farmers who needed their powers for their livelihood, nor the women and children, most of whom posed no threat to the resource extraction operation anyway. I also convinced him to spare the royal family, to save them the further humiliation of defeat.”

  “What has that got to do with what happened today?”

  “As markers — you included — we have a habit of leaving things where they shouldn’t be. It’s something we do without realising. I didn’t notice it myself until those marked with Shaphet’s Law started randomly breaking things. They’d leave cups and glasses floating in mid-air, then surprise themselves when they didn’t stay there.”

  “No wonder there were so many broken bottles at the palace,” said Hamis. “I guess a lot of them are still not used to their new lives.”

  “They don’t want to accept it,” said Eden.

  “But Asmalu is chief. He’s not bound by Shaphet’s Law.”

  “Yes, but he’s chosen not to use his powers since they lost that battle,” she said. “Of course, there’s still the matter of habit. He often leaves his bottles mid-air, only to realise and apologise before placing them on a table or tray. What you saw today was the first time a bottle fell to the floor unintentionally.”

  “His subconscious failed him?”

  “Much worse, Hamis,” she said. “The ascension in his blood has decayed. Asmalu is no longer an ascender.”

  That was rough. Yet it was the only possible outcome after suppressing his powers for so long. Someone had taught him that in school — the fallow period each ascender class had before decay set in. Crafters could go the longest without crafting, around ten to twenty years. Markers had one of the shortest spans, about two and a half years, only ahead of swayers, who lasted barely two months.

  “Anyway, that’s not the reason I brought you here,” she said, changing tone. “I bought this land for next to nothing, and we’re going to use it for farming. Since you’ll be helping me, I wanted your opinion on what crop we should invest in.”

  Hamis floated again, crossing his legs and thinking. “I’ve never seen anything like Spirith back home. Do you think it would sell? Instant combustion without ignition.”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  “But think about the potential,” he said. “We could change how factories operate overnight. And think of the foreign currency we’d earn from exports — the Grem’s economy could triple in less than a decade!”

  She scoffed mockingly. “You have an ounce of him in you.”

  It was rare for Eden to talk about Sirios — rarer still in a good light. “I never intended to start an enterprise. This farm is supposed to be our way of spending time together. We never know whom the sun may claim tomorrow. I want to spend the rest of my life doing what I love most.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Loving you.”

  Her eyes were fixed on the distant mountains, as though she were conversing with the clouds. Eden gave herself a silent pep talk, nodding once before turning around. “Let’s go home. You’re learning how to make lamb stew. And for dinner, I’ll teach you the proper way to slaughter a fowl.”

  “I’m still full from breakfast.”

  “Nonsense,” she said. “You should eat three times a day, no less. No wonder you’re so skinny.”

  “What about the farm? What plantation should we focus on?”

  “We can think about it together — sometime after lunch.”

  They arrived home just as a figure was approaching from the distance. Hamis wasn’t exhausted, but the sight of Commissioner Grieves brought him close to it. The man was riding in his palanquin, carried by two large servants.

  To avoid another encounter, Hamis slipped indoors.

  “You agreed to meet at midday,” Grieves said sharply — Eden had clearly been about to shut the door in his face. “All I want is your decision. Have you reconsidered retiring as a Gaverian?”

  “No.”

  “Mariel is in charge now, Eden. You must understand how terrible things will become for us if we don’t act. That woman hates us, and you know it. Archer and Gunner have been executed. This isn’t just rumour — Sonata and the rest of the Third disappeared overnight.”

  Hamis paused on the porch, his ears twitching. He prayed the Commissioner would mention something about Jenne — just to know he was safe. He’d assumed there would be relative stability after Schemel’s arrest, but clearly, things were still far from calm in Henrikia.

  “I find that hard to believe,” said Eden, folding her arms. “You expect me to think the Gold Army is falling apart?”

  “Mariel is set to abandon us,” said Grieves. “Who will maintain the peace once the savages learn we’re not as strong as we appear?”

  Eden fell silent, communing with herself, then shook her head. “Asmalu won’t let that happen. I trust he’ll maintain the peace.”

  “Too bad he’s dead.”

  “He may have lost his powers, but he still commands respect among his people.”

  “No,” said Commissioner Grieves flatly. “I mean he’s dead. Not alive anymore. There’s chaos at the palace.”

  “Why didn’t you lead with that?” said Eden, brushing past the Commissioner’s palanquin. She burst forward with a boom, splitting the grass apart. The shock rattled the fences and thrummed through Hamis’ chest.

  He wasted time processing what he’d just heard. The commissioner waved his gloved hand in greeting. Hamis ignored him, rose into the air and shot for the palace as well.

  A room that had once echoed with laughter and debauchery was barely recognisable. Factions grouped by bonds beyond Hamis’ understanding hurled threats at one another; fingers were pointed. There were mourners clustered together, consolers not far behind. Where was his mother in all of this?

  Hamis pushed through the raging crowd, made his way up the stairs and crossed to the upper room, where a guard was stationed at the entrance. The guard pinned Hamis with a look. “I’m looking for my mother,” Hamis shouted over the noise. The guard gave him no mind. Hamis forced his way in; the commotion drew someone’s attention — it was Nalu, pale and red-eyed. She shoved the guard aside and ushered Hamis in.

  Raika and Asmalu’s children stood on their feet, eyes fixed on Asmalu’s still corpse. A lot more guards were present now — burly, tall men with thick braids. Two of them had spears aimed at the old man who claimed to carry a message from Hamis’ grandmother. Another spear was pointed at the fair woman, Asmalu’s first wife. Where the old man was calm, she bawled.

  Eden did not stand alone. She watched with her hands at her sides as her sisters passed their palms over Asmalu’s body. “Just give me the word,” Raika said. “Give me the word and I will end them both.”

  “Patience, Rai,” Massu replied.

  “You would risk war with Ossen Grem?” the old man asked.

  “Oh, now you call for a fight,” Raika chuckled. “When my brother and I were buried beneath the bodies of our kin, you sat back and did nothing. I always knew you were a traitor — but to kill your own blood?”

  “Release our chief!” a voice roared from below. “Raika! Release him now or I will tear this place down with my bare hands!”

  Raika growled, crushing his fists. The table creaked; the walls seemed to shudder. Hamis stepped back, struggling to breathe. “What have you found?” Raika yelled at Hamis’ aunties.

  “They won’t find anything,” Eden said, quietly but firmly. “Get up, you two — you’re wasting your time.”

  Raika jabbed a finger at her. “Would you know what took him?” he demanded. “You’re as much of a traitor as they are.”

  “Asmalu living was in my best interest,” Eden stated. “Trust me, I don’t like you as chief.”

  “Raika!” the voice below bellowed again. “Do you threaten the peace between our lands?”

  “No one leaves this room until I find out what happened to my brother,” Raika said.

  “The sun killed him,” Eden replied. “Sovi called your brother. There’s nothing you can do.”

  Raika lowered his accusatory finger and let Eden’s words sink in. His anger simmered; slowly, everyone who was not family began to leave. The people of Ossen Grem had come in numbers after hearing their chief had been held on Hillbrook.

  Many of them wore white, lean silk cloaks, in contrast to the grey woollen tunics Hillbrook folk wore. There were looks passing amongst the people, hints of things to come. Ossen folk retreated to their boats, docked by the hundreds on Hillbrook land.

  “It wasn’t Sovi that killed Asmalu,” Hamis said to Eden on their way home, late into the night. “We don’t know what causes people to die, but it always takes life overnight.”

  “We don’t know that for sure,” Eden said.

  “But you know it wasn’t Sovi,” Hamis insisted. “He wasn’t even an ascender anymore.”

  “We still don’t know how Sovi works—but you’re right,” she admitted. “Asmalu was poisoned by someone in that room. I asked my sisters to hide the truth from Raika.”

  Hamis stopped just short of the fence. Eden turned around, leaning on the wooden planks with her arms folded. “Do you want me to explain why I lie?” His shivering head managed to nod. “Raika hates Hemaika more than anyone. He would not have let him go without blood. Whether it was him or not would not have mattered. You saw him taking Asmalu’s wife hostage. She was innocent too, but Raika has never liked her. That’s how thorough he is with those he perceives as enemies.”

  “What if he finds out?”

  “He won’t,” she said. “I gave him a new enemy, and in exchange, we get to keep the peace on the Grem.”

  “You think he’ll take his revenge on Henrikia?” Hamis asked. “I mean, he’s strong—but he’s not stupid, right?”

  “Not on Henrikia,” said Eden. “Just the Sorels.”

  “Mum—”

  “It is not our concern. The Sorels can deal with their own problems.” Hamis’ eyes burned. He sealed his lips and burst off.

  On Hillbrook Grem stood a number of broken castles, with floating chunks of stone orbiting the ruins. Olande and Kade found Hamis sobbing at the foot of one and carried him along to the highest of the revolving stones. There they sat and watched the whole world spin.

  “Let’s say you had the chance, Kade,” Hamis said. “Could you bring Asmalu back from the dead?”

  Kade shuddered. “I don’t like ghosts.”

  Hamis sighed. It would take a lot more than questions to get what he wanted out of Kade. For now, he would enjoy the silence—the dark blue sea full, the crescent moon, the floating debris passing by, and the white sails drifting across the islands. A world so pretty deserved much better than them.

  “You can see all the islands that make up the Grem from here,” Olande said. “Starting from the furthest east, you have Nere Grem, Ossen Grem, San Grem and Wes Grem. And the largest of them all—Hillbrook Grem.”

  “It’s wonderful,” said Hamis, resting his chin on his knee. “This was Isse’s dream. She wanted nothing more than to visit.”

  A whimpering sound reached him. Goosebumps covered Hamis’ arms.

  “I hate ghosts,” said Kade. “Hamis, tell me you see it too.”

  The fox his aunties had warned him about was back. Hamis took a step to the edge of the suspended stone. Olande held him back, shaking his head. “We shouldn’t be out here this late,” he said. “Look away and get back to your mother.”

  Hamis brushed Olande off. He did not understand like Hamis did. This fox did not want to hurt anyone.

  “You only show up when I’m thinking about her,” said Hamis, kneeling in front of the fox. He slowly reached out a hand and felt its fur. “I miss you too. And I wish it was me instead of you.”

  A pulse from nowhere shot through the fog, shattering the fox into a clutter of mist. Hamis knelt with his mouth hanging open, his grey eyes unblinking, blurred with tears rolling down his cheeks.

  “Hamis.” Olande’s voice. “It was the right thing to do. That thing was—”

  Olande smashed through the castle walls, through the grass fields, through the forest, and into the sea. Blades of grass for miles around lay flat on the ground. The crickets and all the creatures fell silent. What a quiet night it was.

  Isse. He had to find her.

  Hamis rose off the ground and bolted across the Grem.