Finding Irina had proved to be just as impossible as Daimona had said. Norok and Kell split up to scour the lower levels of Base Alpha only to reemerge at the top empty-handed, and with the sun weighing down behind the ruined walls of the civilian district, they were running out of time.

  “Maybe we should just leave her behind,” Norok sighed. “She’ll find us if she really wants to.”

  Kell stretched his arms above his head with a groan. “That wouldn’t be a bad idea. We’d probably get yelled at a whole lot less if we just let her be.”

  Norok snorted, taking in the cold air as they continued through the street. This time, there were far fewer citizens mulling about. All around them were cliques of older military personnel, smoking their cigars in plumes of green. While some of them hung off to the sides, leaning on the walls of closed store fronts and speaking in hushed voices, the vast majority moved as one steady flow through the city. There were no signs advertising Daimona’s night festival, but Norok could only assume that was where they were all headed.

  A figure moved past his right arm, the same pig-tailed girl from elbowing him in the side as she sprinted by. She stumbled, a half-mumbled apology slipping through the space between her crooked buckteeth and her tongue. “Sorry, sir.”

  Her eyes seemed to linger curiously on Kell for a moment before running off. Norok scowled at the child’s back as she swerved down a street up ahead. “Damn brat… I hate kids. Especially ones who don’t watch where they’re going…”

  He turned to Kell, awaiting his warm and sympathetic reaction, Go easy on her, Norok, she’s just a kid, but the words never came. Instead, Kell’s gaze was trained to the far left of the street, where a group of people had gathered around something Norok couldn’t quite make out. One moment, Kell was there, shoulders stiff with motionless concern Norok hadn’t seen before. Then he was gone, racing across the pavement with sparks crackling at his heels.

  Norok shoved his way through the flow of military officers. “Kell, wait up!”

  Kell didn’t turn around. Being closer now, Norok could see that it wasn’t a conglomeration of privates and sergeants that had gathered around. These officers wore uniforms of black and silver, with long cuffs and high collars that didn’t reveal a shred of skin. Under their uniform caps, they each wore a mask of shimmering material, opaque and dark enough to completely obscure their faces. The silver blade from the usual emblem protruded from the center, centered perfectly down their features. The officers stood with their backs to Kell and Norok as they approached, lining themselves up in a semicircle outside of one of the closed shops. Through the windows, Norok could see the masked officers tearing the place apart, sending shelf after shelf of goods crashing towards the floor. More came out of the busted doorway, hoisting what appeared to be an entire family of civilians across the property and back down to the lower levels of Base Alpha.

  As Norok observed the scene, he scanned the unconscious faces of each person dragged outside. Bloodied, bruised and battered, they all seemed undeniably human, and just as defenseless as the rest of the citizens he had seen before too. It wasn’t until he looked down that he realized anything was off. Each of their legs ended in thinly-furred paws, their nails scraping against the stone as they were dragged away. Several steps ahead of him, he could see Kell screaming at one of the masked officers, shaking them by the collar with both hands. “This is a safe-haven under the Cyngor’s jurisdiction, you can’t harm these people under his law! Who is your commanding officer? I want to know which of you scumbags thinks he outranks the blade!”

  The masked officer cocked their head back as they seemed to take in Kell’s accusation. Then, in a frustrated voice garbled by static, the officer replied coldly, “We’re just following the new protocol.”

  “What new protocol?!” The masked officer paused, processing Kell’s question. Norok could feel the air hang thick around them. He had felt the same pressure during Kell’s battle with Rik, and he knew this could only be the calm before the storm.

  “I said,” Kell growled through gritted teeth. “What new protocol?”

  “The Blemish Act, forged by the Table and decreed by the Cyngor, declares that all those who are born sullied by inhuman blood and found living among the populous without Fable documentation must be taken in for questioning.”

  “You call this questioning? These people are harmless!”

  The masked officer scoffed. “They’re about as harmless as a plague, sir. They track their filth across our streets and weaken our defenses from the inside out.”

  “You don’t even know them--”

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  “--Neither do you!” the masked officer hissed. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of that! We’re wearing the same uniform.”

  They didn’t even need to push Kell away after that. His hands simply dropped to his side, nothing but gloved fists of a weakening resolve. They muttered something bitter as they walked away, joining the scene inside the store.

  “I’m sorry, man,” Norok said, standing by Kell’s side as the emotionless officers continued to ransack the store. “I know you want to do more, but…”

  “It’s fine,” Kell snapped, and then more softly, “It’s just the way of the world.”

  A young boy emerged from the ransacked doorway, bearing the same dark coils as the rest of his family. His hands were bound tightly by a pair of black metal cuffs, his clothes and face covered in splatters of blood. With wide, unblinking eyes, he stepped forward, two officers standing tall behind him.

  Desperately, Kell ran to him, kneeling before the boy and taking his face gently. “Blutoshka,” Kell said quickly. “Imitus ceruca falardrig.”

  Startled, the boy jolted at the words, then with wide fearful eyes, he stammered, “I-I-I’m sorry, I don’t understand…”

  Kell reeled back. The officers pushed past him, pushing the boy through the street and taking the rest of the guarding circle with them. Kell looked on in bewilderment, quiet as Norok joined him.

  “What did you say to him?” he asked. “I’ve never heard that language before.”

  “It’s hard to translate,” Kell replied. “It basically means, ‘Stay strong. The river changes.’ A lot of those traveling on the road speak in different tongues, so I assumed he’d know what I meant. I guess I should’ve just wished him well instead.”

  Norok was about to reply, offer some kind of reassurance that Kell’s warmth might’ve gotten the message across, but Kell was already turning away.

  “C’mon,” Kell called over his shoulder, “Let’s go cheer for Daimona.”

  The two walked on in silence, following the trickling flow of uniformed officers until Norok could finally see their destination in sight. It was a wide, white building, covered in rectangular iridescent panels that reflected the remnants of the dying sun. They orbited the building in slow, monotonous turns, a mesmerizing dance of architecture and magic.

  Along the outside of the building, Norok noticed an attached wing labeled “TRAINING FACILITY.” At first, he was only watching the panels shift around the L-shaped structure, the way they bent like light to adhere to the rigid form. And then a crack appeared in the wall, a few feet above him. Norok squinted at it. It was so thin, he wasn’t even sure it was actually there until it started to expand. The wall bulged as something hit it from inside, larger and larger cracks erupting through the surface. With an eardrum shattering crack, a body broke through the wall and sailed through the air, landing with a painful thud in front of Kell and Norok.

  Splayed out on the ground like a beached starfish lay Irina. She was covered in scrapes and bruises, her uniform jacket torn to shreds and hanging to her shoulders with nothing more than luck and thread. Her right sleeve had been completely ripped off, revealing an arm so battered, Norok would’ve believed she had been solely training it alone for decades. The skin was violet and gray like a corpse, as though the life had been sucked out of it from the fingertips and the rot had yet to catch up to the rest of the body. Laughing in that same wicked and maniacal cackle, she raised her gray hand stiffly to the sky and spread her fingers towards the endless space above.

  “I have done it,” she said with a satisfied lilt. “I have achieved the impossible!”

  “Yeah, and wrecked a building while doing it,” Kell sighed, grasping her hand in his and pulling her to her feet. Wordlessly, his magic stretched around her forearm and slowly began restoring the tarnished flesh.

  “Get used to this Sparkboy,” Irina announced proudly. “All you will be doing for the rest of your sorry life is healing me. I have become the strongest member of our pitiful squad, once and for all.”

  “Let’s hope that’s not true,” Norok replied. “Daimona’s got some kind of secret match tonight, and I’ve got a feeling her opponent won’t be anything to sneeze at.”

  Irinina’s face contorted with disgust. “What kind of idiotic saying is that? Whatever, it does not matter. I look forward to showing Daimona this new strength, after her match of course.” Her eyes slid to something behind Norok, and the corners of her lips curled into a sinister smile. “And I believe I see the entry there.”

  Norok and Kell looked to where her gaze was directed. On the side of the main building, hidden just around the corner from where the rest of the officers were funneling into was a swaying door. They watched a sergeant bring his cap over his eyes as he briskly entered, an elegant blue cape flowing softly behind him.

  The three followed quietly, entering the dark storage room with an air of caution. Inside sat a lone woman at a table, wearing a silver evening gown that shone against her ebony skin like starlight against the night sky. Her posture remained upright and as still as a doll as the three approached her table. Amidst the crates and lockers in the room, the sergeant from before was nowhere to be seen.

  “How much for entrance?” Irina barked, slamming a defiant hand on the table. Norok winced with embarrassment at the overplayed demand.

  The woman batted her long eyelashes at Irina. “For you? Fifteen hal.”

  “And for my companions?”

  The woman barely glanced at Norok and Kell. “Forty.”

  “Pay the woman,” Irina said, gesturing to Kell. He groaned, rifling through his pockets to produce a silver card.

  As he handed it to the woman, he muttered, “If you weren’t going to pay, then why step forward…”

  The woman swiped it under her table, and with a shrill beep, she handed it back to Kell with an airblown kiss. Then, she reached her hand out and pressed it against the wall behind her. It shimmered and dissolved, revealing a hidden passageway leading to stairs that spiraled downwards.

  “Enjoy the show,” she sang behind them, closing the magical curtain again as they descended into the depths below.