Messalina threw her arms around Gereon, showering him with many kisses until the man was forced to extract himself from her embrace.

  The woman quickly recovered herself. “You have my deepest gratitude for saving me and my sister. Whatever reward is in our power, we shall happily give it.”

  I noticed Berenice visibly tighten her arms around the strange great sword. She took a step back from the group with fear in her eyes.

  “If we were men who desired reward, we would not have helped you against those odds,” I said, trying to put the poor girl’s mind at ease. “We shall take you back to the city, and there we shall go our separate ways.”

  Gereon nodded, content with this arrangement. Once we ensured their safe return, duty compelled us no more, and we could return to our business.

  “But my honor would be wounded if I did not repay such kindness and bravery!” Messalina cried out. “Do you have a place within Terminus? Come to my house, and we shall give you food and shelter for your stay.”

  I looked over at Gereon for his opinion. I had precious few coins to spare, only the pittance Master Rigel had smuggled into my satchel. As for my needs, the lords of Terminus were bound by the law to provide for the couriers and to give them safe passage. Although seeing the ruin of the city so far, I did not feel it was wise to rely upon men I did not know.

  “This seems amicable.” Gereon weighed the idea. “Though fear not, my friend here will need only a few days before he departs. As for myself, I am to assist him within the city. We shall not overstay your generosity.”

  Messalina clapped. “Excellent! Let us take our leave at once from this wretched place,” and at once, the shadow of her attempted abduction departed from her expression.

  Gereon led the way with Messalina behind, probing him with questions at each step. For the most part, he kept himself reserved. I walked beside the younger sister, who bowed her face low.

  I wanted to speak to her, but I did not know what so clearly troubled her mind. Nor could I find some small matter to break the silence as we walked down the deserted road. I tried to say something—anything. Instead, it was she who spoke first.

  “Your eyes, I have never seen their like before, silver fashioned into a flood of stars. Are you a Seraph?”

  “A Seraph? I am not familiar with that word.”

  “A spirit, then? I do not know the proper names, but I hear they can assume the form of men and do many great miracles. Did you come to save me?”

  “I am sorry to report that I am as much of flesh as you, and I did not intend our encounter. My eyes are dyed with the blood of an Anemoi, a practice carried out by the traditions of my School upon elevation with First Vows.

  Berenice fell silent again, and we walked in the snow for some time. Out of concern, I draped my cloak around her shoulders, seeing her velvet and furred vestments were in disarray. Her faced turned up with a tired smile.

  She wrapped herself tightly in the fabric, holding the great sword close in her arms. I was tempted to ask of it, but somehow, it seemed inappropriate. Regardless, my interest waned as we pressed on. Navigating the cluttered cityscape was difficult enough.

  The sun made its slow orbit as Gereon led us with Messalina all but hanging off of him. Berenice graciously refused my help whenever I offered it, forcing a smile through the grimace of her discomfort. Several times, I pulled Gereon aside, coming up with one excuse or another to let the poor woman rest. Both of us offered to carry the great sword, but each time, Berenice quietly shook her head.

  Our slowed progress did not aggrieve me too much. Indeed, company of any sort was a welcome change after my lonely weeks of travel before I entered the dark forest. I thought back to those uneventful days, mostly of walking and sleeping. As much as I wish I could fill these pages with endless detail, much of travel is better left for the vagabond to know and his votaries to imagine.

  Not every tree has a sylph and not every stone has a face carved underneath it—at least, not for the man who has business to attend to. I shall spare you of those colorless days, those wearisome nights. However, I will note one strangeness.

  Perhaps it was the exhaustion of my recent exile, but I found it unusual that I could recall any dreams during that time. In fact, it was a most peculiar period, as I suddenly remembered a dream that I thought might have been a memory.

  …

  No sooner than I glanced up, I saw the star of Aldebaran in a black, daylit sky. I had come to the shore of a lake where three scarlet moons shone overhead. I recall this dream specifically because I knelt and scooped up the crystal water where it lapped the shoreline. Now, as I have discovered, dreams do not permit more than three or four senses. I could touch and see and hear as I would in the waking world, but then I could neither taste nor smell. And if I took a moment to sniff the air or sip the lake water, I would lose my vision or hearing. However, contrary to my test, something told me not to imbibe the waters of this strange lake. In the distance, I saw a mirage of a dim, cyclopean city whose name I had heard somewhere before.

  There was a man walking along the shore of the lake. He wore gold-kissed robes whose frayed fibers dragged against the pale sand. At first, I thought he was far off along the distant beach, but a few moments later, he stood no more than two paces away. A veil pulled loosely over his fluid features prevented me from seeing his face.

  He was silent, not acknowledging my presence. I did not know whether he noticed me until he spoke, raising a clawed finger to the sky. “Do you see the Zobantoa? There, the blood-feeders are taking flight now.”

  I tried looking, but I could discern no movement nor creature.

  “I cannot,” I answered, still straining to see what the stranger was pointing at.

  The thing in the gold-kissed cloak exhaled, disappointed at my response. “No one can, for they evade the eye so long as you look for them.”

  I noticed I wasn’t quite hearing his voice, as if it were neither male nor female but something else. I could only describe as it as the speech of certain creatures who can parrot the words of men, though it was all the more disturbing to hear wisdom as well from this one.

  “Can you hear the wails of the Tsuphorok?” he asked. “They sound like trumpets made from flayed bone.”

  Again, I tried to hear, but I could hear nothing. I waited for a long time, listening only to the lapping waves of the lake.

  “I cannot.” I finally gave up.

  The stranger nodded at my answer. “I would not have thought so. Their cries are far across the empty sea and not meant for the ears of men.”

  “Why are you asking me of things I cannot see nor hear?” I retorted, annoyed at these questions.

  “What should you do? Being born without eyes to see and ears to hear? Plunge your hands into the soil. Will you pull up worms? Will they crawl in your ear and whisper to you of the things beneath the earth? Or will they flee from you, and you would remain ignorant of that which lies under your own feet?”

  “Perhaps I shall rip that veil from your face and see who chides me with nonsense.” I attempted to walk over to the stranger, but he remained the same distance away, just out of arm’s reach.

  The stranger tilted his veiled head, beyond the point that would’ve snapped a human neck. “I speak a small lie now so that you might hear a greater truth. For I will give you new eyes to see the things unseen, and I will grant you new ears to hear the things which cry out in silence. Hear me, I desire your service, so that through your words I may write the history of men. Speak your name, Sirius, and I shall reveal all the secrets which have been kept from you.”

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  I was suddenly seized, gripped by a force I could not understand as I felt that I was compelled to speak my name. I knew not what foul magics this stranger commanded, and I tried to bite down on my tongue. I knew something awful would happen if I should tell him. Yet fight as I did, my jaw was slowly pried open by unseen hands. Terrible breath stole into my lungs, and my throat moved of its own accord. But just as my lips would give voice, an ember exploded into a burst of fire on my tongue.

  I heard a voice that was not my own speak a different name. The stranger in the gold-kissed cloak shrieked, and with his hand, he drew back the alien world like folds of cloth, fleeing to the darkness behind it.

  There, I saw a man with a sword and many eyes on his eight wings battle with something that writhed in the abyss.

  …

  I apologize for that long digression. I have written so that you might understand how the dream overcame me as I walked in the ruins of Terminus. I cannot say precisely when I regained my senses, only that it was when I felt the weight of new eyes watching us from the desolate ruins.

  In a panic, I reached for my sword, ready for another encounter. However, Gereon quickly raised his hand to quiet my nerves. Peeking out of the ruins were the faces of the dispossessed. Huddled around small fires, they whispered and watched as we passed by. It seemed we had finally reached the outskirts of Terminus.

  Thankfully, these people did not live entirely in squalor. The buildings now looked haphazardly maintained. People went about their daily business, their voices never rising above a murmur. Even the rarely glimpsed children played, though their laughter was subdued and fleeting.

  I was not unfamiliar with poverty. I encountered it many times during my childhood in Zodiak. The skyways took us past slums heaped on top of one another, like overgrown roots burrowing through the city. However, the masses I was accustomed to were raucous and vulgar. Men drank themselves to stupor on the road, and every fifth woman sold herself for the smallest coin. This was a new kind of deprivation, one where the cold winds whimpered at the door and wandered down the empty street.

  Messalina clung tightly to Gereon’s side as we continued down the thoroughfare. Berenice kept to herself, still clutching her sword.

  Up ahead, I saw the walls of Terminus. And until then, I did not realize there were, in fact, two sets of walls. The first was made from wood and stone and seemingly whatever else the denizens of Terminus found as construction material from the ruins. It was jagged and piled up in an ill manner. The only part of this wall that seemed to be tended was the gate, which sat squarely in the distance. The divide appeared to serve one purpose, to keep the unwanted firmly outside the boundaries of Terminus proper.

  The second wall was on the other side of the city, and it was the one I had spotted from far off. It ran east to west, disappearing in the long distance. This wall was ancient, and it was so large that it devoured much of the sky, a steel horizon of rust and faded metal. But even more impressively, shooting up from the wall was a spire that towered further into the Firmament. Though having seen it from a distance, I never had a vantage point to properly appreciate its immense size. It hung over the city like the fin of a giant fish.

  “I’ve never seen such a structure,” I spoke to Gereon.

  “That is the Border Wall and Castle Padua. They were built when the Great Ice Plain was an open sea.”

  “But why were they built? I recall no histories of war here, and this must’ve been long before the cannibals took root.”

  “It was against the winter,” Gereon said. “When men realized this land was growing colder, they built the Border Wall to keep the cold at bay. And it did, for a thousand generations, but that was an age ago. Now, the ashen furnaces can barely heat the city.”

  We crossed that gate, the guards giving us little notice as we entered the modest parts of Terminus. As we passed onto a pave road, I found Gereon had spoken truly. The temperature rose considerably, and I saw vents in the brickwork which emitted a great heat. Not twenty paces into the city, we were forced to strip our outer garments and carry them in our arms.

  I stopped over one grated opening, holding my hands over the billowing air.

  “What is it?” Gereon asked, glancing back after he noticed I had slipped behind.

  A smile broke across my face. “I did not think I would feel warm again,” I murmured.

  But what of the city? What shall I recount of this place? The interior of the city was mostly stone, with only a few carefully chosen decorations breaking the monotony. I’m told this was a precaution against the ever-present danger of fire. The vast network of pipes that carried the heated air posed a constant risk of igniting any flammable material, and they had been the source of several devastating fires in the past. And over time, necessity had turned to architecture. I discovered grey basalt was preferred for the construction on Terminus’ oblong buildings which were typically kept low to the ground.

  Between these buildings, large tarps were draped to conserve the heat. They fluttered upward in the rising warm air, their surfaces adorned with vibrant patterns that enticed the eye. In the wealthier districts, these simple tarps were replaced with elegant glass rotundas, supported by sturdy marble columns. Such constructions reminded me of the spectral ships with which Astronomers used to sail on the empty sea. Alike, I suppose they shared a similar design to ward off the harshest of environments.

  I remember those ships fondly. Their bulbous viewports and golden sails made them look like the Ashrays that frequently glided alongside them. It saddened me that I would never see such vessels again.

  While Terminus was not nearly as large or bustling as Zodiak, my hopes were lifted, seeing civilized life again, quiet and reserved as it was. We passed by a narrow marketplace, and I stopped to talk with a vendor. While his meats did not interest me, I noticed a brooch of a small silver fish pinned to his cloak. After paying with a few coins, I used the trinket to fasten my tattered garment and returned to my companions, who were gathered near a sculpture.

  “Who is this?” Gereon asked.

  Messalina answered happily—she’d been showing the city off to Gereon since we entered. “This is the ruler of Terminus, the Princeps Caracalla. He has been in power since I was but a child.”

  I turned to the statue, noting its unusual features. The artist must’ve been paid too much money, feeling he ought to trade grace for originality. Carved into the bronze was a king with obtuse features whose grinning expression was too small for his face. He knelt like a malformed god of old, holding in his oversized arms the crudely depicted masses of Terminus.

  “Shall we continue to your house?” I asked, turning to Messalina.

  Forgive me, but it had been a long journey. From the forest to snow-laden ruins to Terminus itself, I had not rested in a long time. My feet ached beneath me, and I longed for the comfort of a feathered bed.

  Messalina did not hesitate to show the way. She ushered us down streets lined with stone men. And Berenice, innocent Berenice, hastened after her as well. She always kept pace with Messalina, no matter how hard it was. I did not offer my assistance again—for I knew it would be refused—but I realized how this woman would not ever let go of her burden. Thankfully, the house was not far, and soon, we stood in front of a stately home that was not too ashamed of its age.

  The home had been proud, once. Rising three stories high, it was an uncommon sight in Terminus. Its long, columned walls were adorned with exquisite murals, now faded with time. The doors, one of the few things I saw made of wood, were carved in the visage of great trees. Their branches formed the rails and stiles, which held richly decorated panels, and the ends of the roots twisted into handles. In a previous time, the home would’ve been considered a mansion. Now, it was the shadow of one.

  A long dog was waiting at the entrance. It seemed as old as the house itself, though I knew that this building must’ve stood many times the animal’s life. It was lying by the foot of the door. Much of its soft brown fur had fallen out, and its skin was covered with blisters and sores. The dog’s eyes were milky with deep cataracts. At first, I thought the poor creature was dead, but it wagged its tail as Berenice approached and patted it.

  Messalina did not care one whit about the animal, stepping by the dog and proceeding inside, beckoning us forward. Both Gereon and I stayed with Berenice, frustrating the older sister who remained inside the doorway.

  “Who is this poor animal?” I asked, examining the dying dog.

  “It is Argos. My father’s hound. He used to guard this house while my father was away. However, I fear the animal has lost the ability to walk, much less fight. At least, I have not seen him move from this spot in several weeks.”

  “Why not put him out of his misery?” Gereon asked. “This animal is suffering, and he can fulfill his duty no longer. Best to put him down mercifully.”

  Berenice was offended at the notion. “Argos has never desired any other place than at my father’s door. Since his death, this dog has patiently guarded my house day and night, waiting for my father to return. I cannot in good heart remove him from his post. I tend to his dignity and ensure he is well fed.”

  The dog whimpered and licked her fingers weakly.

  “You do this beast dishonor.” Gereon kept his gaze away from the animal. “If you do not have the heart to kill it, at least remove this creature from the sight of others. It is a foul thing to be decrepit in the full light of day. Cover its shame.”

  “Is it so much better to die in a sequestered corner than at your post?” I asked, coming to the aid of Berenice. “There is no shame in a well-spent life, and this dog is wise for remaining here. For he knows the day is coming when he shall rejoin his master, and he shall receive his just reward for remaining faithful unto death.”

  I held my hand to Argos, and he licked it, wagging his tail. Berenice stifled a cry of bewilderment. I glanced up at her, surprised at the reaction.

  She knew the question in my eyes before I spoke it. “It’s just… I’ve never seen him take so kindly to another person.”

  “There was once a pup the young children of the Astronomers’ played with. I do not know the ways of many animals, but I have always had a fondness in my heart for dogs.” I scratched Argos’ ears. “It is said the Potentate scattered among creatures the many aspects of men, so for mankind to better understand themselves. To dogs, he gave loyalty and joy.”

  I stood up from Argos and stepped forward. Watching from the doorway, Messalina held no compassion for the withered animal. “You are mistaken. This is a senile animal. No loyalty governs this maddened beast. The only reason it does not bite your hand is because it is too weak to do so. If not for my sister, I would’ve had it thrown to the wastes.”