by Ali Winters
He nodded, knowing full well she hadn’t been assigned a patrol for that day, but he didn't see the point in worrying her family before he knew what was going on.
“Thanks. I’ll go check it out.” Kain turned, waving as he walked away. Then once the door closed, he sprinted for the side of the house, stopping below Nivian’s bedroom window.
He bent down to search the ground and found one set of footprints leading off toward the Mezzanine river. It was her place for peace. So that was a good sign. Kain felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly.
When she’d first been created, Nivian had suffered nightmares almost weekly, and Kain had often found her by the river. As hard as they tried, neither he nor Yeva could find a cause or reason for them. And nothing Yeva did, with all her efforts, could prevent them. They’d nearly stopped once she had been paired with him on several assignments in a row, then lessening even more over time until they had stopped altogether.
He worried the dreams had started again if she was sneaking out in the middle of the night.
Kain crested the hill and stopped. His nostrils flared at the nearly metallic scent along the wind. Next to Nivian’s tree—next to Nivian—was a man he’d never seen before. Black hair pulled back at the nape of his pale neck, wearing a black cloak instead of Watcher red.
His mind stumbled over itself wishing to see a normal mortal talking to her. It wouldn’t be unheard of… only rare.
The two of them stopped and looked out toward him. Then the man gave her a slight nod of his head then vanished.
Kain’s world grew unsteady, his vision wavering with it. There was only one thing that man could have been. Only one. Still his mind—his heart—refused to accept it.
He didn’t know how long he stood there grappling with what he’d seen. The muscles keeping him upright barely seemed to work, feeling wooden. His legs refused to move until Nivian was already halfway to him.
Nivian smiled as she always did upon seeing him. Carefree and truly happy.
How could she act like that, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened? Kain seethed inwardly. If that Reaper had done something to her, he would make it his only goal in life to hunt him down and destroy him.
“We are to be on patrol together tonight,” he lied. It wouldn’t be an issue. All he would have to do is talk to Yeva and request Nivian and it would be done. “Finn was looking for you earlier.”
“Was he?” she asked absentmindedly.
Kain looked into her face, tilted up to the warm sun, eyes closed, and long dark lashes fanning across her cheeks.
“Nivian?” He wasn’t sure now was the time to ask, but his mouth continued on not waiting for his brain to catch up with such things as logic and reasoning. “Who was with you?”
The corners of her mouth twitched downward as she fought the frown trying to form. She looked at him, squinting from the bright day.
“No one,” she said in a more terse tone than she normally used with him.
“No one?” he huffed. “Nivian, I saw a man with you.”
She smiled then and put a hand gently on his upper arm. “He’s just a friend.”
He waited for more. Instead, she dropped her hand and walked away, heading toward the village as though spending time with Reapers was a perfectly normal part of their day. Kain stared after her for a moment before breaking into a jog to catch up.
Nivian’s head whipped around to face him as he pulled her to a stop.
“Nivian, that wasn’t a man,” Kain said so low that Nivian leaned forward to hear him. His eyes darted from side to side. “That was a Reaper.”
The joy in her face melted into something sad and filled with worry. He could all but see the thoughts running through her mind—could see her debating on if she could get away with lying to him, or if she had to be honest. Finally, she heaved a heavy sigh.
“A Dark Guardian,” she corrected almost as softly as he’d spoken.
“Nivian…” he said. Shadows darkened her eyes at his concern. “What are you doing?”
Kain’s heart pounded quickly. He studied her face, searching for any sign of change which could explain why she’d talk to a Dark Guardian alone, why she would call one a friend. Had the Guardians somehow gained new powers without the Watchers knowing?
“Has he done something to you?”
Her spine straightened and Nivian tsked, looking away in annoyance. She crossed her arms and said, “Don’t be foolish.”
She sounded like herself, her annoyance at being treated as anything but clearheaded, the expression that said she’d expected more from him. Shame curdled in his gut. It bothered her when the others treated her as if she were a child because she appreciated time alone. Except him, he made it a point to never treat her like that. Not until now.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Her features softened, the tension in her stance lessening. But she didn’t respond. As quiet as she tended to be, this was something else entirely. Nivian was closed off to him. Perhaps for the first time ever. His lungs ached from trying to keep his breathing even.
The others would see this as a betrayal. Watchers and Dark Guardians did not associate with each other. And on the rare occasion when a Watcher was seen with one, they usually wound up destroyed.
Kain’s blood ran cold at the thought of seeing her body pale and cold and unmoving. “Nivian, please tell me what’s going on.”
“It’s not what you think,” she said quietly.
“Oh?” He couldn’t keep the hurt from his voice. “And what do I think it is? You can’t trust any of them.”
She softened right before his eyes, not meeting his anger with her own, but, instead, with all the warmth she held for him. Nivian slipped her hand over the back of his neck and he allowed her to pull him forward until his forehead rested against her own. He had to slouch to meet her.
“But will you trust me?” she whispered.
Kain closed his eyes. She was asking a lot. But he couldn’t refuse her, even if his better judgement was begging him to say no and to shake her until she found her common sense again.
He swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“I will explain when the time is right.”
For now, that was good enough for him. Nivian pushed up on her toes then pressed a kiss upon his cheek. Then she pulled away. By the time he opened his eyes again, she was gone, leaving a dull ache in his chest where she had been only moments before.
SILAS
SILAS DRUMMED HIS fingers on the polished mahogany desk and glowered at the door. Delaying was out of character for Caspian.
He could wait, or go looking for the Guardian. If he went looking for him, then there was a chance he would cross Yeva’s path. The thought drew out a smile.
He stood and rounded the large desk, throwing his cloak around his shoulders, then transported to the edge of her meadow. Sending his power out, it stretched like long fingers upon the earth, searching and feeling for her presence. But he came up empty. Yeva was nowhere near the vicinity. His shoulders drooped. He should get back to business.
He sent out his powers once more, this time focusing in on Caspian’s energy, feeling it tug on him. He could sense each and every Dark Guardian in existence, as if they were each tied to him by a thread. He only need think of them to know where to find them.
Caspian was close.
Silas pulled the hood over his head once more and transported east, toward the river. He blinked as he appeared. Not quite believing his eyes. Caspian sat at the base of a tree, his back against the trunk and a dark haired woman at his side, her head resting on his shoulder. The fingers of her hand entwined in his.
It took three beats of Silas’s heart to realize she was not another Guardian, but something else. A Watcher.
He could almost see their powers flowing off them, mixing. Dark and light. It was almost too impossible to believe. The two of them had a connection, much as he shared with Yeva—rare and unlikely.
Silas cocked his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. There was something off about her. She wasn’t the pure light Yeva instilled within all of her Watchers. It was wrong. Somehow.
He wanted to get closer to them, to see what exactly it was that made her different.
The two of them got to their feet just as another Watcher made his way over the hill. Silas knew him instantly. A favorite of Yeva’s. The first. Kain. He was her second in command, much like Caspian was his.
Caspian vanished and Silas wrapped his cloak around himself, ready to follow. But something made him stop in mid-motion. His brow furrowed.
It didn’t make sense. The girl’s power reacted to the other Watcher, opposing, exactly as it had to Caspian’s, only now she was the dark to his light. Neither Watcher nor Reaper… and yet, both.
Silas rubbed his jaw. No. It was impossible. He was mistaken. The most logical explanation was simply that she had weak power that reacted to those around her. Though why both Kain and Caspian felt compelled to spend time with someone like that, he couldn’t say.
Silas cursed Kain’s presence. He wanted to get a closer look at her, to see what she was made of, but as it was, he could not approach without being sensed by the Watchers.
He would return later to study her under the cover of night. But perhaps the Tome would be able to answer his questions for now.
Silas pulled his hood over his head and transported back within the confines of the office at the top of the spire of G.R.I.M. Headquarters. He braced his hand on the center window’s frame and stared out across Mophar.
A knock came on the door, but he was too lost in thought to notice.
He had never come across such uncertain powers as she possessed. Did she draw her strength from the others, or were they simply pliable? The more he thought on her, the more he itched to go back and study her, to see what error had created her. She had to be one of the first Yeva had made. It was possible she tried to make her too strong and it had backfired.
His fingers dug into the stone.
“My Lord?” Caspian’s voice yanked him back to reality. Silas turned to find Caspian standing in the center of the room, bowed slightly at the waist, eyes averted. “You summoned me?” Caspian added, as if reminding him looking up to meet his gaze.
“It was not important. You are dismissed.” Silas waved him off with a hand.
Caspian hesitated, but Silas couldn’t be bothered wondering what he had planned on discussing. There was something about that girl that nagged relentlessly at his mind, demanding all of his attention. Soft footsteps sounded, followed by the soft click of the door closing.
Silas whirled and pulled the Tome of Fate from the drawer. His long fingers caressed the dark leather and the eye like stone embedded on the cover. He almost laughed at himself, realizing his fingers shook. The binding groaned as he opened the book.
Thousands of pages, and not a single drop of ink touched them. It didn’t matter where he opened up to, it was all the same. The power coursed within every part of it, not simply infused, but made of magic itself.
“There is something amiss with that Watcher. What is wrong with her?” Silas asked.
Light swirled and eddied, forcing him to look away until it dimmed. Slowly, he turned to the page and looked upon the simple, two-worded answer written out in scrawling letters before him.
The Moirai.
Silas stilled. That was an impossible answer. Though since spotting the small Watcher, he had thought that word at least twice already.
The Moirai had gone into their own realm long ago, and he was forbidden to disturb them. He slammed the book closed and gripped it tightly in his hands until his knuckles groaned and ached.
He had already decided to watch the girl. He could be wrong. The Tome could be wrong. If he could find no logical explanation for her oddity then he would do the unthinkable.
Silas shuddered. The thought of looking upon those three faces again was enough to turn him into a quaking, human child. If he needed to see them, and he prayed to Gaia that he wouldn’t need to, it would be the first time since he and Yeva were created. Since they had crafted the Tome of Fate and the scythe each Reaper carried. Each blade imbued with a drop of power from the chalice of the Reapers.
A shudder ripped its way up his spine leaving his bones so cold, it was as if they were made of ice.
He waited atop the roof of a stone building in the center of the human town. The market below, usually closed and empty at night, was bustling with bodies and noise. Lanterns hung from rope, zigzagging overhead. They swayed to the rhythm of music that played from every other corner of the street as it mingled through the night air.
The voices of the mortals were a steady murmur. It wasn’t nearly as loud as during the day. Families and couples pushed about, moving from vendor to vendor.
Despite the wind, the warm scents of cooking food reached him from where he observed, invisible to all… Silas narrowed his eyes. Invisible to nearly all, except for the two Watchers.
Kain and the girl entered from a darkened alley several blocks down. If they looked up, they would see him. And if they sensed him, they made no sign. No flicker of their eyes in his direction, no hesitation. A muscle feathered along Silas’s jaw. She had her arm through his as they pushed their way into the throng of bodies.
Though they smiled and laughed while they talked, their path seemingly random, he did not miss the way their eyes darted about. Watching. Waiting. Even the way they searched the crowd was in sync, as if they’d done this a thousand times before.
The two of them meandered about the crowd, swaying with a perfect display of inebriation that no one would notice the clarity in their eyes.
She smiled at Kain between dark strands of hair pushed forward by the breeze. A genuine glint sparkled in her eyes.
If he didn’t already know better, Silas himself might even have believed they were a couple. Their connection was so much stronger than he’d realized earlier. He could see it, feel the pulse of its energy through the air. How could it be possible for no Watcher to have noticed—to not have brought it to Yeva’s attention? Kain was her Second. How could she be so blind as to what had happened on her watch?
Their bond was strikingly similar to what she had with Caspian.
Red, as dark and thick as blood, coated his vision. No two Watchers—or Reapers for that matter—should share such a strong bond. He knew that, and Yeva damn well knew it too. She could not plead ignorance. Yeva was a fool to ignore the signs. She should have fixed the girl right away… no. She should not have been so careless in her creation.
He clenched his fists at his sides, the only outward sign of his anger.
Just as quickly as his rage had nearly blinded him, it faded, replaced by confusion. This was why the Tome had commanded him to seek the Moirai.
Silas debated getting closer. Confronting them even. But making a scene would do him no good. He wouldn’t know what to do with her. Not yet.
Their connection needed to be severed, but he could do it here. Kain would certainly be a problem, and while the boy was not strong enough to beat him one on one, the distraction of reaping another Watcher would give him ample opportunity to contemplate what actions to take.
It was too risky. It would start a war that would end the world.
A gust of wind swirled through the street and floated up to him, carrying the scent of their power. Kain’s power was strong, like a forest fire, hot and burning. Hers was the scent of fall, of crushed flower petals, with an underlying hint of…
Silas nearly choked, his eyes bulging as he recognized it—that darkness hiding within her.
He rightened himself, crouching low as if it would help him observe them better.
It was impossible. Their bond. But it wasn’t their bond that was confusing. It was her blood. Her Watcher’s blood that was so very wrong.
He almost laughed aloud as realization snapped in place. The slight tremors felt within the balance for decades—lon
ger—so weak that only he and Yeva could feel them, they were because of that Watcher wandering the streets below. Completely and absurdly unaware of herself—unaware that she would be responsible for condemning the thing she had sworn to protect with her life.
Her ignorance would damn him, and the connotations of what it wrought might very well destroy him.
Silas clutched a fist to his heart, trying to quell the sudden ache that had formed. This stupid, ignorant girl would take everything from him. He resented her for it, resented her for daring to have one second of joy in her life when her survival meant nothing but ruin for him.
War be damned. He should reap her life force now. Slowly and painfully.
His fingers twitched, wanting to reach for his scythe. Wanting to fix the mistake that was her existence.
The faces of the three fates flashed through his thoughts. Clotho’s voice echoed in his memories and sent an icy hand down every nerve in his body.
He would see the Moirai as they’d requested through the pages of the Tome.
But one thing was for sure. In the end, as slight as it was, the bond between the two Watchers would need to be severed.
The girl had to die.
SILAS
SILAS PACED THROUGH the lowest level of G.R.I.M. Back and forth, back and forth, endlessly. He was avoiding his duties, avoiding Yeva, and avoiding the Moirai.
Coward. He was a coward and a fool. Yeva would know his heart the second she looked upon his face, and though he could feel the tug of her calling for him, could feel the longing in her summons—he did not go to her.
He missed her, wanted her… but still he kept himself locked away, hiding like a mortal babe, scared she would see his thoughts and what he planned to do as easily as she could see inside his heart.
He had spent days pacing and moping, mulling over what he’d seen between the young Watcher and Caspian and Kain. Why Caspian, of all Guardians, was easy to see. He was in a sense, Kain’s counterpart, a powerful Second. There was something in her that called to power.
