to the southern exit as the sun glistened pink beyond the thick haze. I had my hood on, but the daylight wouldn’t last much longer. Clouds were already following us from up north, big and gray and rolling with lightning.
“I’m sorry about the villager you lost last night,” I said to Kalla.
“I am, too. But out here, it’s a fact of life. There’s a reason why we all go in after dark,” she replied. “He knew not to be so close to the fence at that hour. Unfortunately, he paid the ultimate price.”
“And the tiger? What did you do with the carcass?” Kalon asked.
“The fur will be used for warmth. The winters here are pretty harsh. We gave the creature a burial rite, though,” Kalla said. “After all, we’re the ones who made a home in the forest. We’re on the animals’ turf, and we must respect that as much as we can.”
I appreciated that mindset. It spoke of a synergy with nature that wasn’t easily found back on Earth. The people of Orvis had learned to live with the forest, not just in it. Kalon looked at me as we reached the southern exit.
Ahead, the path widened as it delved back into the woods. The wind rushed through, rattling the trees. I shivered at the sound of it, as if the Nightmare Forest were talking to us, telling us to be careful. Even during the day the danger was never truly gone.
“And the cub? Did any of the villagers see it?” I asked.
“No, but Ember caught a whiff of the little creature not far from the northeastern fence,” Kalla said. “It will survive on its own, most likely. Another sabre tigress might adopt it. The mothers are surprisingly welcoming of other cubs, unlike some other predator species.”
So were the vampires, I thought, my mind going back to The Shade, which had welcomed orphans from all corners of the universe and beyond. There was kindness and honor in sheltering a lost soul, in nurturing it and giving it a chance at a full, better life.
“This is where I say goodbye,” Kalla said, stopping by the stone fence. She gave me a broad smile. “It was an honor to meet you, Esme Vaughn. You’ve restored my faith in the universe, so to speak.”
I’d told her about my origins and GASP, about our culture and some of our previous adventures. She’d devoured every single tale with childlike interest, finding parallels with her own people, with Orvis and the Aeternae empire. At the end of the day, despite our physical and cultural differences, we were all very much alike. We all fought to survive, to live great lives.
“The pleasure and honor were all ours,” I replied. “You have a wonderful place here, despite its… let’s say difficult position. I promise we won’t tell anyone about it, if that is your wish.”
“I appreciate it, and so does every creature who’s made a home in Orvis,” Kalla said. She looked at Kalon and a sluggish Ansel. The boy had not sipped a drop of blood since the previous morning, and he was no longer strong enough to stay alert. That was fine by me—a sluggish Darkling was less dangerous, especially when bound and gagged. “I hope you find what you need. And I hope you can turn your brother around,” Kalla added, fully up to speed as to why Kalon had his sibling tied up this way.
“I’ll do what I can.” Kalon sighed. “Ansel will have to want to help himself, though. There is only so much I can do.”
“Indoctrination is a fickle thing,” Kalla replied. “But once you confront him with the undeniable truth, once he sees his narrative dismantled, the boy will have no choice but to accept reality. The Darklings and their agenda are not worth dying for.”
“Let’s hope my brother understands that before it’s too late,” Kalon said. “The empire is not as forgiving as I am.”
“You three be safe out there,” Kalla said, as she bid us farewell. “Should our paths cross again, you’ll find a friend in me. Unless you bring trouble to Orvis, in which case I will become your worst enemy.”
I took it as a goodbye, not as a warning, though I doubted Kalon thought the same. Kalla’s words had clearly made him uneasy, but he didn’t respond. He just waved and shifted his focus back to the road as Lightning and Midnight took us through the woods again.
An hour passed in heavy silence. I noticed Ansel