Excerpt from Ash’s Journal – August 21, 4-1883

  Dahlia is far too interested in the Seams and the other worlds. She pays little attention to my other lessons—lessons on history and the major Mirnen families—but she shows intense interest when I talk about the other human worlds. I shouldn’t be surprised. At fifteen years old, she is already quite talented with the languages from those worlds. It’s only natural to ask questions about them.

  Dahlia knows the Circle was once a human world until the Mirnen settled there, though I didn’t tell her what happened to the poor humans who lived there before. She knows that the Havens is a scholarly oasis, but I didn’t mention that the Halflings there have taken a prominent role in their government of late. She knows the Sands is hot and dry and filled with savage warriors, but I didn’t dare tell her that someday I wanted to move her there to keep her safe. She knows that the Marrow is where the King houses his army, but she doesn’t know that there are many Halflings in that army now. She knows that the Blast is a barren desert without life, but I wouldn’t dare tell her that the Mirnen are responsible for the destruction there.

  Dahlia knows only what I tell her about the worlds, and I am so cautious with what I reveal to her. The last thing I want is to tempt her to try to leave the Red on her own. Someday, she will outgrow this world, but for now, her anonymity in a world with a relatively small Mirnen presence keeps her safe.

  But Dahlia asked about the Seams today. She knows they are doorways that connect the human worlds. I’ve shown her the maps that show the locations of each Seam in the Red. She knows that they are accessible only to Mirnen and that they are monitored—that guarding them isn’t necessary because only the Mirnen can open them.

  Dahlia wants to know more. How do we open the Seams? Where do they come from? How big are they? Why can’t humans open them? Can I take her to see one? All those questions will go unanswered for now, but I fear my silence will only lead her to seek answers elsewhere.

  Dahlia

  “Tell me you have good news,” Portia urged one morning when I responded to her summons.

  It wasn’t uncommon for her to summon me to her office, so I thought nothing of it. Usually, she summoned me to give me some new task or check in on any ongoing tasks I was working on. Given I didn’t have any ongoing tasks, I knew this was probably about the Reaper, and I knew she would probably be disappointed.

  “About what?” I asked—feigning disinterest in the conversation as I absently braided my hair.

  My eyes were on a flat, blue box on her desk. Based on the color and soft, paper-like material, this box could only be from outside the Red. We didn’t have anything this fine in Firen—not commonly, at least.

  Noticing my gaze, she smiled briefly before chuckling, "You’ll really like this gift.”

  “I have no doubt,” I murmured before returning my attention to her, “What good news do you want to hear? I watched those guards at the south gate yesterday—I didn’t notice anything suspicious—that’s good news, right?”

  Portia had tasked me with determining if the guards there were waiving the entry tax to his competitors. But I found no sign of a problem. The guards completed their tasks with a bored monotony—they hardly even looked at those entering Firen.

  “The Reaper!” Portia slammed a hand on her desk—making both me and the box jump.

  Damn.

  Portia’s temper was legendary, but I was not usually on the receiving side of her anger. Trying not to let her temper get to me, I eyed the gift—realizing she may not give it to me after all. With a frown, I explained, “He hasn’t been around—no bodies or rescued children in weeks, remember? So no, I have no news—good or bad.”

  She rose from behind her desk and leaned over it towards me, “If someone else identifies him before us, and I lose out on that reward, you won’t like the consequences, Halfling.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I shuddered both from the mention of my identity and the threat. I’d seen what Portia did to those who disappointed or betrayed her. Beating. Starvation. Torture. She didn’t kill people, but she also didn’t treat them well when they were in her custody. I looked down at my orange fingernails and frowned as I imagined her pulling them from my fingers one by one, like I knew she’d done to some of her targets to torture them.

  I liked my nails too much.

  “I don’t care—just leave my fingernails,” I decided as I returned my attention to her, “As a favor—for everything I’ve done for you until now.”

  I don’t know what she was expecting me to say, but it obviously wasn’t that. Portia rubbed the bridge of her nose in irritation, “You really test me some days, Dahlia.”

  The feeling was mutual.

  I sighed deeply, “Look, if the Reaper isn’t here in Firen, there is nothing I can do about it. Besides, the Reaper I met isn’t going to let anyone get the better of him. He’s good at what he does—sneaking around, fighting, killing. You should have seen how precise his strikes were on those bodies I saw! Incredible, really.”

  Portia continued to rub the bridge of her nose, “So you’re saying you are no match for him?”

  “Probably,” I shrugged—unconcerned because I had no real reason to fight the Reaper, and he seemed to have no problem with me.

  Portia stood up straighter and crossed her arms as she fell deep into thought before finally deciding, “Seduce him, then.”

  “Excuse me?” I choked on a laugh.

  It had to be a joke.

  “Seduce him to find out who he is,” Portia explained, “I don’t care if you have to fuck him or tease him—just seduce the man.”

  That would never happen. If I were to explore the bond between us, it wouldn't be so that I could turn on him. Something about that just felt wrong, deep in my soul.

  “I’ll have to find him first, remember?” I managed when I realized she was waiting for my response.

  “Then find him,” Portia decided as she sat back in his chair, “I want you walking the streets at night—clearly your periodic searches have been ineffective. I expect you out every night now—patrolling. Look for the Reaper, keep an eye on the Imm soldiers who are now coming here in droves to find him, and when you find the Reaper, seduce him—I’m sure he’ll tell you everything we need to know after that.”

  I doubted that.

  “Fine,” I feigned disinterest again and returned my attention to my nails, “Fair warning, seduction isn’t one of my better skills.”

  I imagined all the embarrassing—yet seductive—things I could say to the Reaper and cringed internally. Yeah. Seduction didn't come naturally to me.

  “Before Max started scaring off all the men sniffing around the Ledge for you,” Portia smirked, “You seemed to seduce men into your bed with ease.”

  Ouch.

  “Screw you, Portia,” I seethed—turning away to leave.

  “We aren’t done here,” Portia called after me, “Your gift, remember?”

  I stopped—far too tempted by the thin blue box on her desk.

  So, I turned and lied, “Maybe I’m not so interested this time.”

  She made a face—making it clear she didn’t believe me, “Just come get the gift, Dahlia.”

  I made a show of reluctantly crossing the room and taking the small box off the desk. It was much heavier than I’d expected. I raised it to my ear—shaking it a couple times—but heard nothing, so I proceeded to open the box—careful not to rip the soft paper. I nearly dropped it when I saw the glint of metal inside.

  “How did you get this?” I asked as I pulled out a gray metal blade that flashed in a rainbow of colors under the sunlight seeping in through one of Portia’s windows.

  “One of our men found it on one of the dead Imms,” she explained, smiling at my reaction, “He managed to take it before the Calos came to investigate.”

  “Evemant?”

  “Of course,” she confirmed, her smile widening at my excitement.

  Evemant was a nearly indestructible metal from the Marrow. My father explained that the King placed his army in the Marrow to protect the evemant stores there—I didn’t doubt that. While the army was allowed to use evemant to craft swords and manacles strong enough to hold back an Imm, no one else was permitted to use the rare metal. It was a good way to ensure he maintained power over the other Imms, but I was certain the rogue Imms didn’t play by the King’s rules. They almost certainly had a way of procuring evemant too.

  Portia chuckled as she took the blade from me and placed it on the desk as she explained, “A dagger—a dagger that could cut through even an Imm’s bones with ease.”

  I reached for it, desperate to hold it again, but she swatted my hand away, “I’m holding onto this one until you make some progress with the Reaper.”

  I growled, “That’s bullshit.”

  “See, I knew you’d love it,” Portia smiled—pleased with herself.

  I eyed the dagger longingly, “So, if I make progress with the Reaper, I can have the evemant dagger? Those are your terms?”

  “Yes,” Portia nodded and busied herself with wrapping up the dagger and placing it into a drawer in her desk, “Get close to him—learn what you can.”

  I might get close to the Reaper, but I certainly didn’t want to turn him in. I didn’t have it in me to betray him. But Portia didn’t need to know that—not now. Besides, I had every intention of stealing that dagger when Portia wasn’t looking.

  “Deal,” I lied as I stood up, “But don't forget, Portia. I agree with what the Reaper is doing. I don't want to help the Imms.”

  “Well, so do I,” Portia hardly sounded concerned, “But I want him to stop drawing attention to the Red. I want the Imm soldiers to leave Firen, and most of all…”

  Portia leaned forward and spoke firmly, “I want that money.”

  Of course she did. With Portia, it was always about money.