"Hey. Do you think I'm weird?"

  Lys turned away from her book at Launa's words. It was rare that she paid attention to her questions. It made Launa happy.

  "Unless the definition of weird has changed to 'incredibly annoying' then no."

  Launa faked a gasp, falling head first into Lys's lap, covering her book. "You really think I'm annoying?"

  "If there was an award for being the most annoying, you would be honored with a lifetime achievement trophy."

  "If you were the one to hand me the trophy, then it would be an honor."

  Lys smiled, the 'blink and you'll miss it' kind of a smile. But it was so soft and loving that Launa's brain had burned it into memory.

  "I'll think about it."

  CHAPTER 2

  LAUNA

  Launa was no stranger to the local police's interrogation rooms, but this was the first time in while her wrists weren't heavy with handcuffs.

  The air was stale, the weak artificial light straining to touch the dark walls, and Officer Deschamps was actually trying to be polite, for once. His contorted face showed how hard it was for him. He had come to her after the rush. After the school's parking lot became a nest for screaming and crying students. It was barely controlled chaos. One class in particular, Lys's class, kept looking at the school as if it itself was a monster. Some had splatters of blood on them.

  The rest had a lot more than a splatter.

  Launa had searched for Lys, looking at every face, every mop of hair she could see, going up and down, terrified of missing her. She kept trying her phone, and every time it went to voice mail, her heart sank a little more.

  This is Lys, leave a message.

  Maybe it's just on silent.

  This is Lys, leave a message.

  Maybe she forgot it inside.

  This is Lys, leave a message.

  Maybe she's still inside-

  "Where's Lys!?" She all but screamed at one of the classmates with less blood on him. Pierre, maybe. The name caused him to shiver, and he curled into himself, shaking his head.

  "I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know," he kept muttering.

  Launa had no time for this.

  "Does anyone know where Lys is!?"

  "She's gone," Hermine said, crouched in the corner of the crowd. She had drawn her long dark hair around herself, trying to block out the world.

  "What do you mean she's gone?!"

  "Some man came in...he took her...and then she- she-" Hermine started to tremble, and Launa knew she wouldn't get any more information from her. She clicked her tongue, looking around for anyone to help her when-

  "Mademoiselle Dubois." The familiar tone turned her around to find the Officer in his usual pretentious blues. "We're going to have a nice, long talk."

  Launa wasn't a stranger to the local police's interrogation room, but this was the first time she was there because of Lys.

  "Does Lys share any of your...tendencies?" He asked, eyes on his paperwork, as if she was a nuisance. He always spoke to her using polite grammar. Not to show respect, but to put distance between them. He put himself on a pedestal, and Launa was the trashy commoner needing a lesson in manners.

  "If by tendencies you mean punching people who deserve to be punched then no. Lys would never hurt a fly."

  Officer Deschamps didn't even look at her as he wrote her words down. "See, that's where we have a problem," he said, finally looking up, every motion oozing contempt. "Because I have a dead teacher, and a student who's gone missing right after the murder with a partner we're sick of seeing in our precinct. You can see how bad it looks."

  Launa's brain came to a stop.

  "What-"

  A file slid towards her, promising unwanted answers. The front was riddled with sorting numbers but what stood out to Launa was the name.

  Monsieur Eric Blanchard.

  The Physics and Chemistry teacher. The one whose class Lys was in just before the incident.

  "Open it."

  His voice echoed, looking over each of her shoulders, gliding around her arms, encouraging her. Her own morbid curiousity led her fingers down to the folder, and to the photos lying inside.

  The pictures showed a wall. A wall with a story. The dark red splatter formed an almost person, limbs distorted, shaky, too long to be human. Skin had crawled in the joints between the white tiles, nesting at the point of impact. Blood spread like confetti around the room, organs eager to join in the celebration and exploring every nook and cranny. Launa thought she saw a bit of intestine half inside a pencil case.

  "No one has ever seen anything like this before." The deep voice brought her out of staring at bits of brain resting over some beakers. "It's going to take us days just to pick up all the pieces."

  Launa gulped. "And you think- You think she did this? How?"

  "That's what you're here for." His eyes bore into her, he had dropped the polite act. "She wasn't alone. A man entered the room and fled with her. Walked right in and out through the front door. Maybe they had some kind of machine. The only natural way he could have ended up this way is if a tornado entered the classroom. This isn't your petty street fight here. This is murder. If you know what's good for you and for her, you'll help us catch her and her accomplice before someone else ends up like this."

  Launa's only instinct was to recoil against his words. "How- why would you think it was Lys then? Why not the other guy!?"

  "All testimonies coincide that they saw Lys push her teacher before he splattered against the wall. However she did it, there's no question it was her."

  Launa felt the room closing in around her. It crushed her shoulders, her feet, her chest, her brain. Despair and loneliness tried to weasel in her beating heart, but she didn't let them.

  Something wasn't right.

  Lys would never leave her without a word.

  She would never.

  "No one has seen them leave the school, right?" She asked.

  "That's right. Why? Do you know how they would have escaped?"

  Launa straightened herself up, chest up and proud, filled with purpose. She could feel a spark in her eyes. "No. I was just curious. Can I leave now?"

  The officer frowned. "You do understand how it looks if you leave without giving us everything you know."

  "I know nothing," she said. "Can I go now? I know you can't keep me."

  "Your family's money won't help you this time if we find you're involved in this," he said as she stood to leave.

  "Sure," she answered, not needing help to find her way out.

  She took a deep breath as the sunlight hit her, and turned left, towards her goal. The school. There had to be a hint there. Something. Anything. She would go through every bit of skin and organ lining if she had to, but she would find where Lys had gone.

  She could have taken the bus, but it didn't feel right. There were too many feelings battling inside of her. She started to walk but quickly burst into a run. She ran through the forest cradling the back of the building finding the small crack in the fence -the students' most well guarded secret- and finally stopped running. She couldn't tell if she was dizzy from exhaustion or from emotions, so she decided to ignore it, and headed straight for the science building.

  There were police officers at every door, but she knew Mme Texier always kept her windows open on the ground floor, and she snuck through there. The air was heavy, and only got heavier as she walked up the stairs to M. Blanchard's classroom and the smell hit her. It wasn't a scent she could describe clearly, the nuances of iron and bile attacked her nostrils and stomach all at once.

  She blocked her nose and carried on.

  "HEY! What are you doing here!?" A female voice echoed from the end of the corridor.

  Launa cursed and ran back towards the stairs.

  "Come back here!"

  It only made Launa run faster. So fast that when she barrelled down the steps, she didn't have time to see the black cloud floating around the corner. She ran through it, and the railing faded into nothing. She heard the crunch of leaves under her feet, and the putrid stench of death was replaced by clean air and the sound of trees rustling in the wind.

  Launa froze, looking behind her only to find more green trees. There were no stairs, no school, no police.

  Just her in a forest.

  What the actual-

  She turned around in all directions, thinking maybe if she was at the right angle the school would just pop back up. But it didn't, all it did was scare off a squirrel back up into its tree.

  Let's think about this clearly, she thought. You were at school, and now you're in a forest.

  Ah yes, that made perfect sense.

  She looked up. The leaves were the colour of late summer, and the setting sun started to draw colours on the clouds. That's when she saw it. When a cumulus floated by, mocking her by its calmness.

  Three moons.

  Launa counted over and over again just to be sure, rubbed her eyes and blinked so hard it made her eyes water.

  Three moons.

  She checked her head for any injuries. Maybe she had fallen down the stairs. Maybe she was in a coma. Was this what people experienced during a coma?

  She found her feet moving forwards. Launa had always processed thought using her body. Running or hitting usually did the trick. She walked on until the forest started to fade, and she was able to look down at a picturesque scenery she had only seen on postcards. There were no clusters of concrete, no swirling black roads. A moving vehicle drove past beneath her, it was so slow Launa could hear the curses the drivers behind it would scream if it drove in her city. It sounded like a washing machine, and Launa crouched to see water moving in a tank and turning the wheels.

  To her right a lake glistened and laughed, an angry red building claiming ownership over it as it stood at its center.

  To her left, just down the hill, was a small village almost swallowed by flower fields. She headed towards it, thinking of ways to engage conversation with the locals that wouldn't make her sound crazy.

  When civilisation came close, Launa found it harder to believe she was still in France. The signs indicating the village sprung right out of the ground, like malformed stone mushrooms. The road stayed bare even as houses huddled around her, gravel crinkling in pain beneath her sneakers. Men and women alike wore long dresses and tunics of linen which flowed in the flowery wind. The embroidery in each garment was unique, some obviously handmade, and their wearers were all staring at her. Had she somehow found a secluded community?

  A boy was staring at her harder than others. He couldn't have been more than fourteen years old. He narrowed his eyes, enhancing the three beauty spots arranged in a triangle on his left cheek. He didn't look aggressive, simply inquisitive. She chose to ignore him, turning her gaze to the walls, and the face staring back at her made her stomach sink. There, drawn in coal on an old and ripped wanted poster, was Lys. She felt her knees almost buckle with the realisation.

  She had found Lys.

  Wherever she was, Lys was there too. She raised her hand to touch the drawing, but it was quickly stopped by a rough hand. Launa's instinct kicked in and she grabbed the offending arm to throw whoever had touched her over her shoulder. A young voice let out a yelp of pain, and she ended up face to face with the boy. Passerbys inched closer to them.

  "It's okay! She's my sister!" The boy said to those who wanted to listen. "She's a bit-" he made a circular gesture near his head with his index. "I just have to bring her home."

  Launa let go of him to stand straight. "Excuse me?"

  The boy stood up in a flash and grabbed her hand once more, leading her down narrow streets. "Just follow my lead," he whispered.

  And what other choice did she have?

  They walked the streets, the boy letting out a chorus of "Nothing to see here." "Just going back home after a show." "Funny costume she's wearing right?" And quieter instructions, just for her ears. "Don't look at the posters. Don't look at any one. Act as if you've lived here all your life."

  "Do you know where Lys is?" She asked.

  "And don't say that name out loud," he added to the instructions.

  They walked quickly, Launa first tried to count the posters of Lys she saw, but gave up quick, worry troubling her brain. The boy dragged her to tight dark stairs, down to the green vined walls of the sunken square. The sound of the village faded into the distance, and Launa looked up to read:

  "John's gallery of potions and cures."

  The boy barreled in, almost knocking the "Open" sign off the door, and carefully closed the door fully before shouting. "John! We've got a new one!"

  Launa was immediately hit with the smell of herbs and medicine. Flasks of every size and colour looked down and up towards her, enticing her, asking to be drunk.

  The man at the counter -John-, lifted his head, pushing his long grey hair out of his face. He looked at her like one would a puzzle, his blue eyes scanning every inch. They were calculating, yet warm, and Launa found herself breathing easily once more.

  "That we do," he said, his voice far from betraying his age. "Where are you from, child?"

  Launa felt strange to be called 'child' when her nineteenth birthday had recently passed, but she couldn't seem to want to argue with him.

  "France," she said, knowing wherever she was wasn't the country she had woken up in that morning.

  The boy's eyes widened as he turned towards John. "Didn't Lys also come from-"

  Launa perked up. "Yes! Lys! I need to find her! Where is she?"

  John's eyes narrowed. "What is your relationship with her?"

  "I'm her partner. Is she safe? What's with all the posters?" Her words sped up with every question. Her brain was using her skull as a practice drum and her heart seemed to have forgotten its normal pace. She couldn't care less about where she was or how she got here. All she needed was to have Lys safe and sound.

  "You don't know what she did?" The boy asked.

  "Why would I- Is this about what happened earlier?"

  "Earlier?" John asked.

  "At school. Before she disappeared. Does it have to do with why she came here?"

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "Wait," the man said, waving his hands. "When was the last time you spoke to Lys?"

  Launa didn't have the luxury to think, blurting out whatever seemed reasonable "Six hours ago, maybe?"

  "In France?" The shop keeper clarified.

  Launa frowned. "Yes. Why?"

  John and the boy looked at each other. "Lys has been here for three years though," Nart said, his voice quiet and questioning.

  What?

  Launa started to feel light headed. "What? No. She's been with me for the past few years. There wasn't a single day where we didn't talk. It can't-"

  "Calm down," John said, his voice deep and warm, as if he was talking to a scared animal. "I know why. Nart, close the shop. We'll need to talk before I send her to the Order."

  The boy hopped gleefully, his hand finding his forehead. "Aye aye."

  Launa followed tentatively as John opened the door behind his counter. The smell of herbs faded behind the wooden door and she was met with a humble yet welcoming room. A circle of carpet and cushions of various sizes was facing a chimney to her right. To her left, a table breathed the air of an open window, a kitchen area with a sink and cupboards not far away. Everything was just right, carefully chosen to optimise the small space, filled with history of late nights around the fire.

  Launa couldn't help but imagine living in a home like this with Lys. Waking up to the gentle aroma of tea. Sitting on the cushions, legs intertwined as they recounted their respective dreams, welcoming the morning at their own pace.

  John motioned for her to sit, and asked Nart to light the fire. Launa observed him as he did, expecting him to find some fire starters and matches, but instead, the boy bent down, and fire flew out of his mouth like breath, coating the logs and filling the room with the soft crackle of burning wood.

  "Please don't light my fireplace with your mouth," John sighed as he took out some tea cups from his cupboards. Launa couldn't stop staring at Nart, wondering if this was all an elaborate prank after all.

  "I like it though! I feel like a Dragon." The boy said, making claws with his hands.

  "What's a Dragon?" The man asked.

  "A fire breathing creature," Launa answered, almost a whisper. Her eyes still stuck on the gentle fire.

  Nart turned to her, noticing her fixation on the fire. "Ah. Right," he said. "So, this is a thing here," he pointed to his mouth and the fire, then made three small orbs of fire appear in his right palm. They twisted and turned around each other, following his fingers, like children playing. "I couldn't do this in my old world. Then after a few days here it came, and now I have shifts of hot water duty."

  Launa took a deep breath, closing her eyes. There was too much happening at once. She turned her gaze to John, looking for a more concise explanation. He smiled as he handed her a cup of yellow tea which had no right to smell as good as it did, then he sat down to her left.

  "We call it Dancing," he started. "we commune with one of the four Spirits and they allow us to use some of their power, this cannot happen everywhere however." He lifted his hands and some of the cushions in front of them rose up and ran around each other. One stayed unmoving in the center, the others never getting close, circling it like predators. It made Launa think of a solar system. "This," he pointed to the static pillow. "Is where we are.

  "It's like a core, a blueprint for your old world, but far from the same. There used to be four of these Realms, these collections of worlds. Now there are only two. From what I remember when Lys arrived, your world used mostly fossil fuels and resources from the Earth, right?"

  Launa nodded.

  "Then you're a Child of Earth, like most people here."

  "What happened to the other Realms?" She asked.

  John's face grew somber and he averted his gaze.

  "He never wants to say," Nart interjected.

  "Looks like I'm out of tea," John said, looking down at his full cup. "Nart, heat me up some water, will you?"

  The boy groaned. "I swear all of you think Fire Dancers are your personal heating tools," he said, nevertheless standing up and pouring some water in a pot he then held with fiery hands.

  "What were we talking about before?" John asked.

  "Lys," Launa answered, clinging to the one anchor she had.

  "Ah, yes. You also probably want to know how you got here."

  "That would be a nice start."

  John stood up and headed to the door to his shop. His hand lingered on the handle until Launa could see hints of a purple mist escaping through the cracks. He motioned for her to come close, and as he opened the door, she caught the sight of a corridor. She followed John in, hesitating to put her feet on the misty floor. It looked as if she would just fall through, but her feet did find solid ground.

  It wasn't the kind of solid she was used to, though it wasn't soft either. It felt alive beneath her, but cold. She looked forwards to see a row of doors on either side of her, going on and on until she could only see darkness.

  "This, is the passage between worlds." John said, sounding like a tour guide showing a famous painting, and not a phenomenon which was shattering Launa's concept of reality. "Every door is connected to a world, a time, a Realm. Anywhere you could possibly imagine."

  "And you can use it?"

  He shook his head. "No human can open those doors. Only Spirits. The most I can do is connect doors to it and to other parts of this world, but I can never leave it."

  Launa breathed in the mystical space, feeling the soft power in the door John was holding open. "How are you able to do that?"

  He showed a small smile.

  "Is this something else you can't say?"

  He shrugged. "Sometimes, ignorance is a gift."

  She frowned. "That still doesn't explain how I got here."

  "You fell through a Distortion; crossings created when the passage malfunctions. You probably fell in the same one Lys did, hence why you came to the same place. Time though, is pretty tricky. The passage doesn't care about time. You could have landed on the same day as you could have landed in a hundred years."

  Launa's stomach dropped at the thought. "So I got here close to her. That's good. Can I see her now?"

  "No one knows where Lys is," Nart said from his end of the room, the water boiling in his pot accompanying his voice with a low hum. "She could be dead for all we know."

  Launa's blood ran cold. Her hands held the cup so hard, the handle broke off. Her tea poured and slithered onto her hands before joining the rest of the cup on the ground. The burn was welcome. The pain helped her distract her brain from the thought of Lys's death. She turned towards the boy, and the terror on his features told her all she needed to know about how her own face looked. "Say that one more time and I will break your neck."

  Nart gulped, and John came to block her vision of him. "Now now. Let's all calm down. I'm sure she's fine."

  "Are you?" She asked, her voice none the warmer.

  He averted his gaze, and Launa wanted to throw him at the wall. She grabbed her T-shirt with her empty hand, nails still somehow digging into her palm. She tried to breathe.

  Breathe.

  Breathe.

  She's alive.

  She has to be.

  Her entire body was shaking, her burnt skin hurting more every second.

  "You said you met her." She managed to breathe out.

  "I did," John answered.

  "What happened next?"

  The man averted his gaze, biting his lip. "Soldiers burnt down the house of the couple taking care of her. The husband, Mordo, was captured. The wife, Leesha, wanders around and only sends us letters. We... haven't heard from Lys since."

  Launa closed her eyes, frustrated tears threatening to spill out. "How long ago was that?"

  "Three years. The house was burnt down days after she arrived here. Those wanted posters were very effective in the beginning."

  Everything started to spin. This was too much in one go. She needed- she needed-

  "I need some air."

  John turned to Nart. "Why don't you take her to Headquarters? Let her breathe. I'll speak to Philip about her, we'll do the full introductions later on."

  "Headquarters?" She asked.

  "Of the Order of Narcissus," the man answered. "We help people like you who have come from other worlds."

  Launa blinked. "Is it that common?"

  Something in John's eyes wavered. His whole demeanor changed, and the smile he wore was plastic. "Unfortunately."

  Launa was in a half dazed state as they brought her back into the shop, towards a door on the wall. She didn't flinch when the click of a switch echoed in the space and grains of white sand started to fly through the door cracks, carried by a warm wind tickling her ankles. When the door opened to a dark forest of tall trees and the smell of the ocean, she couldn't bring herself to be amazed.

  She kept thinking of Lys. Did she even get to set foot here? How did she feel when she arrived here? Alone.

  Oh, fuck.

  Lys had arrived here alone.

  While Launa had Lys's presence as a crutch to keep her sane, her partner had had none of that. All because Launa took her sweet time coming.

  I'm sorry.

  I'm so sorry.

  Concentrating on her feet and not on Lys felt like betrayal. She blindly followed Nart, hints of tales of his various heroics running up to her ears but never sticking.

  "What's it like for people like us out there?" Her voice was hoarse as she spoke.

  Nart stopped his rant on the strict hours of the food hall. His smile crashed to the ground. "For Drifters?" He asked. "Not good. This General dude doesn't like us for some reason, and he made sure everyone joined his side."

  He inhaled a heavy breath. "I was adopted by a native family when I came here, you know? I was like eight? Maybe? Mum- well, the woman who adopted me, was so kind. I feigned amnesia and she was the best teacher I could ask for. Two years ago I decided to come clean. I thought 'She's my mum, she'll always be there for me.'"

  He scoffed. "You should have seen her face when I told her. I-" He bit his lip, his eyes straining. "I could pinpoint the exact moment she stopped loving me. She looked at me like- like some pest in her perfect garden." His arms closed around him, recreating the embrace he had lost. "The next day, two soldiers tried to take me in my sleep for the afternoon execution in Rasphira. I freaked out and burned the house down to escape, so I probably didn't help with our reputation." He half laughed.

  "There are tons of them," he sighed. "Drifter executions. Some public, some not. People are so paranoid I'm sure some of the victims are natives." He looked out towards the ocean, towards something. "Someone told me it makes them feel safer, the regular executions. It makes them believe the army is doing its work and protecting them. Because if not, then they would have to start looking for Drifters around them, and realise that we're no different. They don't want to see that, Kirst said, although I don't get why. See that tower?"

  He pointed to the one thing you could see from all points of the island except the forest cradle in which the portal door resided. It stood proud, black stone against white sand, aiming for the clouds.

  "We call it the Tower of Names. Every time a Drifter dies, we carve their name on a stone and we add it to the tower. With the stones accumulating in the lobby, it's due for an upgrade. Some of the names on there were here for less time than I was. Maybe I'll be joining them soon," he tried and failed to fake a laugh, his triangular birthmark shifting along with his cheek.

  Launa kept her gaze to the black. It stuck out of the perfect scenery like a wart, one that keeps hurting when you walk. A constant reminder of her and Lys's future. "If Lys was executed, you would have known, right?"

  "Oh yeah, Lys's execution would have been the event of the century-" he stopped and waved to his left. Launa followed his gaze to multiple people waving from under a canopy, sparring hidden from the intense tropical sun. Flames were waltzing in the air along with flowing water and the ground was cracked and riddled with huge holes. There was a chorus of grunts and shouts and the smell of sweat reached Launa even from a distance.

  She found herself drawn to it.

  Some of the fighters turned to her, noticing her clothes and unfamiliar face and throwing friendly welcoming smiles.

  "I need to vent," she said.

  One of them came forward, his dark bald head shining in the sun. He gave her an appreciative nod, as if he knew exactly how she felt. "Sure, you look new. Can you Dance yet?"

  "No."

  He winced. "Not sure it's wise for a non-Dancer to-"

  She interrupted him with an icy glare, and his feet turned away from her.

  His body tensed at her attitude, his expression souring. "Seriously, maybe you should wait a few days and see if something comes and-"

  "I need to vent. Now."

  He sighed, turning to his right. "Malyt!" He called. "I need your help with something."

  All the fighters turned towards a sun haired man sitting and drinking water in the darkest shadow. He looked towards them and pointed towards himself, one eyebrow raised in question. The bald man waved him over, and Malyt obliged. Launa observed him. His hair was kept in a picture perfect ponytail almost as long as hers, and rested on a chest of lean but very defined muscles, as if he lifted boulders all day.

  "Malyt!" Nart called, finding his place next to Launa.

  Malyt's entire being lit up. "Hey little guy," he said, rubbing the boy's head.

  Nart pushed his hand away, and the frown he wore almost hid the grin fighting to control the lower half of his face. "Stop calling me that! I'll be fourteen in two weeks."

  Malyt backed away, hands up in the air. "Oh, right. Sorry. You're an ancient now. Sooooooo" He dragged the word for so long Nart had to throw a jab at him for it to stop. "old. Older than all of us. How can we rival with your wisdom?"

  Nart frowned again. "One day I'll punch you for making fun of me so much."

  Malyt laughed. "Sure, go ahead. But if you do, I'll stop working on your birthday present. It'll be a shame, it's almost done."

  Nart's eyes filled with stars. "Serious? Is it what I think it is?"

  The blonde man put his hands on his hips triumphantly. "Carved your name in it."

  Nart almost jumped in joy, looking around for others to share in his glee, but he quickly met Launa's gaze, her raging eyes stopped him in his tracks. "Oh right. Malyt, Launa. Launa, Malyt."

  "I need to vent," she said.

  "Though she's just arrived." The bald man said.

  Malyt's eyes widened. "And you want me to fight against a non-Dancer?"

  "Just get it over with," the other man whispered, but Launa heard it clear as day. Teach her her place, it meant. She would have gotten offended if she was in any place to care about her ego.

  Malyt sighed in resignation, and the crowd scattered away. "Have you even seen what Earth Dancing looks like? What it does?"

  "I don't need to."

  He frowned. "Listen-"

  He was interrupted as she bolted towards him, grabbed his arm, and threw him over her shoulder. The crowd fell silent and only the sound of hard muscles hitting the sand echoed in the space, the nearby pond rippled with the impact. When the sand settled once more and stopped hiding Malyt's shocked expression, he schooled it back to a frown. He sunk into the earth, the sand absorbing him like a sponge, and emerged standing a few feet in front of her.

  "We were talking," he said.

  "I don't remember agreeing to talk."

  Malyt seemed to be holding back a smile. "Guess not."

  Launa felt the earth move below her. She jumped back, but the sand shifted everywhere her feet touched. She moved to a corner, jumping on one of the poles holding the canopy up, and held onto it with her thighs. Between her and Malyt was a path of shifting sands, hungry for anything.

  "See, as a non-Dancer you have no way to attack at a distance. I know you must be frustrated but it's better to wait until-" Launa had thrown a rock at him, right at his face. He blocked it easily, willing it to sink into the sand before it even reached him, but when he turned his gaze back to the pole, she wasn't there.

  He should have paid attention to the light footsteps from above, but Earth Dancers didn't have the best reputation for looking up.

  Launa jumped off the canopy roof to land of Malyt's shoulders. She wrapped her legs around his face, and fell back, flipping them over, taking care not to break his neck as she slammed him to the dust once more.

  Malyt lay stunned under her for a moment, his face to the ground, but it only took a second for an army of small rocks to rise around them and to barrel towards her. She lifted his body to block those on her right, which stopped in midair before hitting him, and protected her face as best as she could from the onslaught on the other side. The familiar sting and warmth of blood spread all over Launa's body. Lys's face popped up in her mind, thinking of how she would react to her injuries.

  It made her smile.

  The Earth Dancer turned to hit her in the head with his elbow. Launa almost avoided it, still getting a painful blow at the side of her head. She'd never been hit so hard, she made a mental note to ask if it was an Earth Dancer thing. The blow made her let go of his collar, and he quickly turned to tackle her to the ground, his head crushing her guts. Launa willed herself to lift his head up by his hair and land a heavy blow on his windpipe.

  Malyt's breath stopped, and he heaved as he let go of her. He sunk into the earth once more, emerging crouched a few feet behind her. He had a full on smile on his face now, a trail of blood cascading down from his open mouth, and a forming bruise on his throat.

  "You're good," he said, every breath a struggle.

  "I would say the same, but apparently 'I don't know anything'."

  Malyt's laugh came out with great difficulty, but his glee seemed to match Launa's.

  "What in the Spirits is going on?"

  John's voice broke the spell isolating the canopy from the rest of the island. Everyone present could breathe again, their eyes leaving the fight. Launa kept her smile as she saw John study all the points she was bleeding from and Malyt's strained laugh.

  "I'm processing," she said, swiping back some strands of red hair which had come undone. I hope they have shampoo to wash off the blood, she thought. "I'm still confused, but I know I have to do whatever I can to find Lys again." The crowd started to murmur, and she saw Malyt's eyes widen at the name. "Take me to the last place you saw her."

  John stood stunned for a moment, then his shoulders fell in resignation. "As long as you take care of those injuries first. Both of you."

  * * *

  John had warned Launa about the state of the ruins as they walked out of the small village of New-Sher and into the woods. She had said she was prepared.

  She was not.

  When the trees parted enough to let the house be seen, she held her breath. The entire clearing was black as soot. Signs of a struggle came as bits of the house could be seen stuck in rampant vines in nearby trees, and where there must have once been a house, now stood a pitiful, bug infested ruin.

  She walked through it, soot rushing to stain her shoes, the wood shouting in protest at the intrusion. With every creak came a picture of Lys, scared, hunted, alone.

  But I'm here now, she thought.

  She asked for a flower, and John handed her a narcissus.

  "I'll come here everyday," she said as she placed the flower down at the entrance, a ritual of days long past. She wrote a short message in the black with her finger. The soot resisted the attempt to move it from its long term residency, but gave way, eventually. "Even if I have to do it for years. Until I find a better way to get to her, I'll place a new flower every day."

  And she did.

  Every day.

  A week passed, and nothing happened. She still managed to trip here and there on the strange vegetation.

  Two weeks passed.

  Three weeks passed.

  A month passed, and she started to recognise the people she passed on the street. Even in the heat of the young summer, her feet still lead her here everyday. Her muscles were pleasantly sore from combat training on the island, some part of her body stinging from Malyt as he kept finding ways around her guard.

  Two months passed. The flowers she placed dried up in a single day from the heat, and the heavy rains turned the familiar path into a mess of mud and bugs.

  Still, she persisted.

  Three months passed.

  Four months passed. They were doing a sort of large burning ceremony that night. A farewell to summer. Launa moved against the flow of people, wearing their best tunics for the festival. She picked the usual narcissus on the way, they seemed to always be in bloom here, though she started to worry about the incoming winter. What would she leave for Lys then? She arrived at the ruins, at the usual spot, and placed a flower in the familiar soot.

  Then, she froze.

  The old flower wasn't there anymore.

  She looked around, her heart pounding, and saw the unmistakable prints of a Fire Dancer blasting off. They faced west, beyond the great mountain range. She tried to push down the hope swelling in her chest. But all she managed to do was cry.