Grinning and squinting into the setting sun, she tugged my sleeve, pulling me forward down the street. “He’s here.”
I rolled my eyes, but let myself be pulled toward the town center. Standing at the axe-throwing booth was a tall boy, lean and very tan. His disheveled blond hair stuck up this way and that, and when he saw us coming—or rather, when he saw Avery—his lips split into the happiest of grins. He waved, and Avery waved back with an enthusiasm that I envied. So far, no boy had ever made me that excited to see him. And every year since we were seven, Micah had come to work the Harvest Festival from the other side of the continent of Kokoro, and every time, he’d made Avery smile as if she were looking at the stars.
As we passed the food carts, my stomach rumbled, but it practically screamed when we were next to the cart with sugar-coated fried breadcake. I tried to tell Avery that I was going to stop and grab a bite, but she was so focused on Micah that she hurried ahead, leaving me to my own devices. Camra, who’d taught my mother how to sew when I was a baby and had since been a regular visitor to our cabin, was working the breadcake cart. I flashed her a smile and dug in my pocket for three trinks—my father had given me plenty of coins the night before—but Camra shook her head. “Your money’s no good here, Kaya girl.”
Louis Bowery whined from behind me, “What about my money, Camra?”
Camra handed me a large breadcake and shook her head at Louis. “Your money’s just fine. That’ll be three trinks, if you’re hungry.”
Camra didn’t much care for Louis—not many of the townsfolk did. He and his brothers were known to be troublemakers of the worst kind, the kind that wouldn’t confess to anything that they’d done, no matter how small. I didn’t much enjoy his or his brothers’ company either, but Avery had a mild crush on both Decker and Vadin Bowery, so I went along with her just to keep her from getting in too much trouble. With a nod of thanks and a polite shrug at Louis, I turned away from the corner and bit into the soft, warm breadcake and relished the sweetness as the sugar melted on my tongue. After my second bite, I sensed something in the revelry around me change. Then I heard it, high-pitched and in the distance. Someone was screaming.
C H A P T E R
Two
There is a stark difference between a scream of joy and a scream of terror. Something in its pitch shakes you to the core when you hear a terrified scream, and my core was trembling. Who was screaming? What was happening? I turned around, trying to locate the source of panic, but was nearly knocked over by Louis. His face was white and drawn, and just as I opened my mouth to ask him what had frightened him, he mumbled something unintelligible through trembling lips and took off toward the north woods.
Someone screamed again, this time so loud that it hurt my ears. The crowd pushed toward me as people rushed to flee whatever it was that was causing such fear, but I fought against the tide of running feet, pressing my way against them, toward whatever had instilled such terror in my neighbors. Bodies slammed up against me. I was surrounded by wide, frightened eyes. It was as if no one could see anyone else, just different routes of escape from whatever was behind them. Friends climbed over friends. Fathers ran ahead, leaving their children behind. And through it all, my heart slammed against my ribs in a terrified rhythm. But I pushed forward anyway, determined to see the source of all this fear with my own eyes, and help stop it if I could.
The crowd’s movement was dizzying, and after a moment, I lost my direction. People were running everywhere, and I was spinning around, uncertain where to turn. My foot slipped on something slick, and I steadied myself, regaining my balance. Then I looked down.
The toe of my shoe was tipped in burgundy. The ground beneath it held a puddle of something wet and dark. I inhaled slowly, forcing air into my reluctant lungs. Blood. There was blood on my shoe, on the ground. Which meant that someone or something was hurt.
The puddle at my feet branched out and I followed the bloody trail through the crowd, my heart racing, my nerves so ramped up that I was shaking. I pushed past a woman dressed all in blue, who was sobbing uncontrollably, and stopped dead in my tracks.
Avery was lying on the ground, covered in blood. The moment I saw her, my heart stopped completely.
It took me a second to notice Micah lying over her, bloody and limp, his eyes staring lifelessly into the crowd. Avery cradled his head against her chest, tears drawing lines down her dirty cheeks. A large, mouth-shaped wound had left Micah’s neck mutilated. Something had attacked and killed him. But it hadn’t been able to take more than a bite. On the ground beside Avery lay a large, bloodied rock. Avery had apparently bashed the thing over the head a few times to stop it from eating Micah completely.
I ran over to her, shoving my way past the thinning crowd, and dropped to my knees beside her in shock. “Oh, Avery, I’m so sorry. What happened? What…what did this?”
Avery’s sobs grew louder, but they were drowned out by a terrible screeching noise. I stared up into the treetops, where the noise was coming from, but couldn’t make out anything in the darkness. The torches that lined the street cast a warm glow over the village, but outside of the flames’ range, the darkness was intensified. It was as if the darkness itself was crying out and hungry for nothing but the villagers of Kessler.
Then something large and heavy dropped down from the treetops, landing with surprising grace just feet in front of me. It stood on all fours, but towered over me, its black, soulless eyes staring me down. Its skin was blue and scaly, as if the creature had been born with its own defensive armor. And its breath smelled foul, like rotten meat and blood, metallic and sour. The smell of it, even at a distance, sent the threat of vomit to the back of my throat. Snorting, it turned its head slightly, peering around me to Avery.
A word flitted through my mind, and chasing after it was denial. I’d heard rumors, fairy tales that no one really believed, about monsters that lurked in the treetops up in the mountains where the villagers didn’t dare travel. And my parents had told me stories about the beasts—stories that insisted that these monsters were real. But I didn’t believe them. I thought my father was teasing me, or that maybe they were just trying to keep me from climbing the mountains unguarded. But standing directly in front of me, growling, a long strand of spittle hanging from the corner of its mouth, was a Graplar.
One thing raced across my thoughts as I stood there staring at it, shaking with fear.
Graplars eat people.
In a moment of panic, certain that the beast was about to lurch forward and attack Avery, I waved my arms and shouted, hoping to distract it. Just as my shouts left my throat, I heard my father shout as well, only his was a word, and the word was No!
The creature lunged at me, opening its mouth wide. As it snapped its jaw closed, I jumped back. Its teeth closed over the fabric of my shirt and I yanked away, scrambling backward, hoping that Avery had the good sense to run while the thing was distracted. As it threw its head forward again, gnashing its teeth at me, I stumbled, tripping over Micah’s corpse. Avery had wiggled herself free and stood. Our eyes met for a brief moment before she turned toward the woods and took off in a sprint. It was then that I heard my father calling out again, his voice full of warning. “Don’t run! Don’t move! It attracts them!”
The beast leaped over me, charging after Avery, and seconds later, my father was jumping over me as well, chasing it down, katana in hand. I hurried to stand, and ignoring the blood and dirt that was sticking my clothes to my skin, I ran after him, after Avery, after the monster that had attacked our small town. In the distance, beyond the edge of the firelight, I heard rustling, then grunting, then a heavy, meaty thump. As I reached the edge of the light, I saw my father emerge from the darkness, the front of his shirt spattered with blood, dragging the Graplar’s head behind him. He dropped it to the ground, shaking his head, his brow troubled. As he returned his katana to the sheath on his back, I breathed a sigh of relief. My muscles relaxed. My father had saved us, all but the boy. We were s
o fortunate. I wondered how far Avery had gotten, or whether she was still running away from the beast. Hugging my father tightly, I said, “Thank you. Thank you for killing it. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. I’d better go get Avery and tell her it’s dead.”
As I stepped forward to move past him, my father put his hand out, gripping my shoulder. He looked down at the stains on his shirt before his dark, troubled eyes found mine. After a moment of confusion, my heart shattered into a million pieces. He didn’t have to say the words for me to understand what had happened. The monster had gotten to Avery before he could. It was Avery’s blood on his shirt—an image that would forever haunt me. My best friend was dead, and all because I hadn’t known how to stop the creature from attacking her.
As tears welled in my eyes, my world swirled around me in the muted colors of night. Sounds blended until all I heard was silence. I was certain I was falling, but the last thing I remembered was my father’s arms lifting me from the ground and carrying me away from the monster that had killed my friend. Then everything went black.
“Let her rest, Patrick. She’s been through a lot.” My parents’ voices drifted through the cabin in hushed tones—ones not quiet enough for me to fully ignore. I lay in bed, still stunned, still feeling numb. The moon was casting shadows of trees on my wall. I stared at the dancing branch shadows, not thinking anything, trying not to feel, most certainly not letting the image of Avery’s blood into my haunted thoughts.
My father’s voice broke in then, full of warm determination. “And she’s about to be faced with worse, Ellen. We have to get her up, get her moving around, and prepare her for what’s coming.”
“How do we prepare her for that, exactly? We don’t really know what’s in store for her.”
“We know this much. She has no idea what to expect right now, and delaying that information isn’t helping her.”
There was a long silence before my mother replied. “Okay. Wake her. But be gentle.”
Heavy footfalls approached my door. As each one sounded out into the night, my heart beat heavy and solid in my chest. Finally the door to my bedroom swung open and my father spoke, the warmth that had been in his tone just a moment before replaced by something I very much needed—strength. “Kaya. Come downstairs. Your mother and I need to talk to you.”
He was right, and I knew it, but still it took me a moment to sit up and swing my legs over the edge of my bed. It took me a moment longer to stand. Every movement I made felt like I was swimming through murky waters. Slowly, I made my way downstairs to the dining room, where my parents were waiting with looks of trepidation on their faces. I looked back and forth between them. “Something’s happened. What is it?”
Sitting in front of my mother on the table was a stack of folded rice papers. Clinging to the outer paper was the burgundy ribbon and broken wax seal that had held them all together. “This was delivered by messenger late yesterday. It’s for you. You’ll have to pardon us for reading it. When we saw who it was from, we couldn’t resist.”
After a moment—one where the air grew heavy between us—she slid the small stack across the table to me. On the outside sheet was scribbled my name and address. In the upper left-hand corner was a swirling script which simply read Zettai Council. My heart stopped at seeing those words. Mostly, because hearing from the Zettai Council when your parents were fugitives was probably the worst thing that could ever happen, next to losing your best friend to a horrible monster’s insatiable appetite. I hesitated with the letter in my hand, not wanting to unfold the paper, hoping that avoiding doing so might erase the words within its well-worn creases. As if sensing my hesitancy, my mother closed her hand over mine and met my eyes with a teary smile. She’d likely intended for her actions to comfort me, but seeing my strong Barron mother brought to tears by the presence of a letter from the Zettai Council had the opposite effect. It meant that we all knew what was about to happen. It meant that everything was about to change: for me, for my parents, for our family. And nothing would be the same ever again.
With a breath so deep it made my lungs ache, I unfolded the paper and smoothed out its creases, taking my time to do so. At last, I read the thickly scripted words at the top of the page.
By Order of the Noble and Honorable Zettai Council
Below that, in smaller and thinner letters, were two paragraphs. My eyes scanned them at first, hoping to find a word like “pardoned” or “excused,” but nothing lay on that page but my deepest fears. The first paragraph was written as part of the order, but the second seemed to be a personal note. As I read the first paragraph, my vision blurred with tears.
It is with our deepest pride and pleasure to announce that Kaya Oshiro has been granted admission to Shadow Academy, to join in the grand position of studying alongside some of Tril’s greatest Healers. As pursuant to Article 9 of the Loyalty Act, Kaya Oshiro must report to the Academy within three days’ time of receiving this official notification. If Kaya fails to report in the time allotted, please know that proper measures will be taken to ensure her attendance at this prestigious educational institution. Congratulations to Kaya and her family on what we know will be the beginnings of a fruitful future.
As upsetting as the first paragraph had been to read, it was nothing compared to the second, which was written in an elegant, swirling script.
Dear Kaya,
We at Shadow Academy look forward to you joining our ranks as a student Healer. It is with deepest regrets that I must inform you that the Barron to whom you were Soulbound has perished. A new Barron has been selected for you, however, and you will be Bound to him shortly after your arrival. Please give my regards to your parents—indeed, it has been many years since their presence has graced Skilled society. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to them. I look forward to meeting you in three days’ time.
Sincerely,
Osamu Quill
Headmaster, Shadow Academy
I read the paragraph over again before setting the letter on the table. My mother had given up on dabbing her eyes with her sleeve and buried her face in my father’s shoulder. The headmaster’s letter had sounded every bit as proper and polite as it needed to pass for something dignified to the untrained eye, but my parents and I knew to read between the lines. They knew where we were now. And if I didn’t join the cause and learn my part in this unending war, the Zettai Council would send someone to murder my parents, for committing the crime of coupling and abandoning their stations.
And my Barron. My Barron had died. The fact hit me in the chest like a thousand stones, paining me to my core.
I hadn’t known the Barron I was Soulbound to. How could I? My parents had eloped to Kessler before I was born, leaving everything about Skilled society behind. But somewhere in Tril, the very moment that I had been born, another child had been born. We took our first breath together. Our hearts had beaten together for the first time. Our first cries echoed out into the world at the same exact moment. We were Soulbound, as all Healers and Barrons are when they are born. But now my Barron was dead, and though I never knew him—and it was a him, a boy, I don’t know how I knew that, but I did—my soul ached to know that he was gone, before I’d ever had the chance to look him in the eye.
Before I could stand, my father grabbed my hand and spoke, his voice burning with fury over the entire situation. “We can run, Kaya. You don’t have to go. We can leave everything behind tonight and run for our lives.”
Gently, I pulled my hand from his and met his gaze, shaking my head slowly. I loved him for saying what he had, but I knew that any choice we’d had had been erased, and any chance we’d had of remaining out of the watchful eye of the Zettai Council had been stolen away the moment that the rumors of the Graplar attack on Kessler reached the council chambers. Because an Unskilled wouldn’t know to behead the beast, and certainly wouldn’t have done so with a katana—such weapons were only ever used by Barrons, and every single one of them capable of taking down a Graplar
in a single swipe, like the one my father possessed, was forged at Starlight Academy. There was no doubt in their minds. They had found my parents—had found me—and if I didn’t attend Shadow Academy, my parents lives were forfeited. Really, as twisted as it seemed, the Zettai Council had been lenient by allowing my parents to live at all. They could have simply smashed in the door, killed my Barron parents, and taken me away, kicking and screaming. But they hadn’t. Maybe because they knew that my parents were some of the best trained fighters of their day and it wouldn’t be an easy task. Or maybe it was because they’d rather catch flies with honey than with ass-kicking vinegar. We’d likely never know. But I did know one thing. Avery had died because I didn’t know how to stop the Graplar from attacking. And as sweet as my father was to spar with me in the clearing behind our cabin, I knew that he’d been playacting, and would never really teach me how to fight. The only way I was going to learn to protect anyone from those horrid beasts was to train at length. And Shadow Academy was going to provide me with just that. I didn’t want to go. I needed to go—to protect my parents, and to protect myself.
I knew what it meant, leaving home and entering the Academy. My parents had told me all about the hundred-year-old war, and how once you entered a school for training, the war became your way of life. I also realized that by returning to that lifestyle, I was virtually undoing everything my parents had fought for to give me a normal, peaceful existence. But I couldn’t, in good conscience, let anyone else lose a friend to the insatiable hunger of a Graplar. Avery would want me to go. Avery would tell me it was the right thing to do.
As I pressed my lips to my father’s brow in a kiss, my mother’s tears turned into body-racking sobs. I kissed her forehead too, suppressing my own tears—after all, there would be another time to cry, maybe one when I was alone, away from my parents, and my tears would cause them no further grief—and went upstairs to my room to pack.