The Scar Canyon's southern end gradually rises toward the upper surface world. From cliff to cliff, irregur mounds, rocky hills, jagged protrusions, and even mountains, all dramatically surge upward, aiming for the Wastes and the half-dead nds beyond.

  Deep mines and valleys, enclouded, hidden, inhabit a world between here and outside.

  The highnds appear pretty from here. A regal cluster of rock and soil, a gathering of all irregur rock formations the canyon has to offer, only magnified many times over, both in size and scope.

  Criss-crossed with many paths that lead away from the canyon, those highnds are often called ''The Gates.'' Of course, they look nothing as such but I assume there is something poetical about the name.

  Not far from The Gates—which are less than an hour's flight from here— two massive fortresses guard the route to Lodestar. Hardknott Fortress, and the one the three of us are in: Trinity Rock.

  Their purpose is mostly just for show. They are meant to guard against Ground Wraith incursion, although, to my knowledge, such an attack never happened. The two fortresses probably help people in the hamlets and city to rest easy at night. Any Wraith near the Valley is tracked and Harvested. On top of that, the terrain between Valley and Wastes is mountainous, craggy, and unhospitable for most Wraiths and their sizable frames to traverse.

  I mind climbing the stair turret leading us here, but I don't mind the view.

  Trinity Rock's projecting round towers were connected by a curtain wall, snaking its way around the pteau's lip. The lofty blue banner of Lodestar proudly graces each of the towers down their middle.

  I've never visited Hardknott. This second fortress is closer to the Western Cliff, and visible from here as a distant smudge. I could focus my eyes on it for closer inspection, but I won't. I'm in no mood for a headache.

  Hebe, Michael, and I are standing on the parapet of the eastern tower.

  The towers are creneted and ft at the top.

  It's windy up here so I wear the red woolen cloak from home, csped by the ring-shaped enameled fibu—its lion pin piercing the fabric. The lion's masterfully-crafted head has two tiny green crystals for eyes that glow with a light so pale I don't think it's visible during daytime.

  Simple and pin, the cloak is really a folded rectangur bnket that drapes over my long dark-green coat—shoulders, sides, and back. The phoenix insignia of both sleeves is covered by the red cloth.

  Hebe decided to sit between merlons, her back turned at the spectacur view. Michael, standing at my right.

  Our idle talk feels gone once Hebe notices Michael was being a little too quiet and more serious than usual.

  ''Today I received a letter from home,'' Michael says, his voice a bit hoarse. ''A man living near my hamlet was tried and convicted of being a Vorza. He was taken all the way north; tied and thrown off the Wind's End.''

  ''Do you not know any uplifting story?'' Hebe asks, arching her eyebrows at him. The wind threw her hair of spun gold this way and that.

  Michael looks at her, annoyed. ''I will try and learn some nursery rhymes just for you.'' He looks slightly menacing and also a bit silly with his hair cropped so short. Obviously, I won't tell him that...to his face.

  ''What do you mean: 'Vorza?''' I cut in.

  Hebe waves her arm in dismissal. ''Oh, they are as real as the Red Spark.''

  I give her a bnk look.

  Hebe sends me a gentle giggle. ''Void's curse, Ann. Did you grow up on a tree?''

  ''Yes, a rather big one,'' I remark, shrewdly.

  Michael jumps in. ''Vorza is a person that is said to gain superhuman strength by consuming crystal's light and eating the flesh of his fellows.''

  ''So much for those cute rhymes,'' Hebe softly chimes.

  Michael just throws his hands at her and stops talking.

  I swallow hard. My bones feel as if made of parchment. ''Eating. Flesh.''

  ''Ann,'' Hebe begins getting up from her perch. She gives me a tiny smile and reassuringly rubs my shoulder. ''Those are tales mothers throw at their misbehaving children. 'Behave or a Vorza will eat you.''' Before long, she sits back in her crenel.

  Michael clears his throat, lifting his astute eyebrows at Hebe. He then quickly runs his forefingers upwards across the throat and points at her. Older people use the gesture to basically say: ''You are the same as me.''

  Hebe is not amused. ''I'm not as morbid as you. I was only expining.'' She then gnces at me. Her gaze lingers, scrutinizing my face. ''Are you alright, Ann?''

  They both stare at me with worried looks. ''Yes. No. I...must've eaten something; drank something spoiled.'' Void's arse! Collect your wits.

  I pretend to speak with my mother, pcing a sharp edge around my next few words. ''It is nothing.''

  That st part and the look I gave my friends seemed to have worked wonders. They let it go.

  ''Well, I have to go to the gymnasium. Zuri will teach me the bow.'' Hebe gets up, putting her hand on mine. ''I'm going back with her group.''

  Zuri. She recovered fully in less than a week...ish. I didn't get punished thanks to her saying it was all an accident. After our little bout, she continued like all is forgotten, but I know better. She avoids me. Zuri doesn't fear me, she just...avoids me. And her eyes are always gzed with a trace of iron-cold enmity during those rare times we talk.

  Afterward, after the fight, I was careful to eat more in the Hall, to run slower, to make mistakes more often, to do everything...well, slower. I don't know if I could've killed her. The thought often lingered, a ghostly stain haunting the heart. Zuri accepted my myriad of sorries, on the surface at least.

  Like candlewax dripping over a book, the most dreadful thoughts stick to the mind. What if I missed and the spear nded on her throat? Or her eye. And for what? That one guard was the only one who made anything from our skirmish.

  I know I must move on and learn from my mistake but I don't want to. I don't deserve to.

  Zuri...

  ''I could've helped you with that,'' I say with a tinge of residual shakiness in my voice. They don't seem to notice. My thoughts of Zuri consumed those others, less savory ones. I almost shudder at my st musing.

  ''You already helped me too much.'' She kisses my cheek and waves at Michael. After exchanging our goodbyes she meanders away.

  I notice Michael looking at me as though I might crumble into dust at any moment.

  ''I'm fine.'' My voice cks conviction. ''Anyway. Do you believe that Vorza stuff?''

  ''I come from a small settlement where people will believe anything.''

  The silence that stretches is long, so I break it. ''Michael, that strange stone of sky-bridge's roadway we ran on. What's it called?''

  ''Seriously?''

  ''What?''

  ''Nothing,'' Michael says, clearing his throat. For a moment he looked at me as though he wished to say something else, but thought better of it. ''Most people call it melted rock. It is like lime mortar but far stronger. One of the gifts Goddess provided for the chosen ones.''

  Awooo!

  Woeful, lupine howl pierces my ears.

  A battle familiar and a guard next to it were patrolling the southern curtain wall's battlement that stretched below and away from our tower. The familiar resembled a bck wolf with crimson-red eyes, its withers almost rivaling the tall guard's shoulder height.

  Daylight made the sound nothing more than background noise. But this fortress at night, well...this far from Sol, with scant torches and the few crystals provided here, the dark might have given the howl a certain nocturnal edge it cks.

  Usually, crystalborn do not behave, or have primal instincts of animals. They rarely howl or growl like a dog would. One of the Bck Breakers stationed here was clearly bored and commanded his familiar to howl.

  ''So...Red Spark?'' I ask.

  He narrows his dark brown eyes at me. ''Ann, for a person who spends so much time in the Great Library you know surprisingly little.''

  ''Don't py with me, Aquillia.'' When you want someone to get serious fast, say their family name. It always works.

  I'm in no mood for teasing.

  Michael clears his throat. He sometimes does that when he's slightly agitated or nervous. ''It's a tale drunkards tell each other during Acrona's festival. Some of them would cim how they saw a red jagged line break the sky. Others cim it is a thunderbolt sent by the Goddess as a sign.''

  ''Sign of what?''

  He scratches his chin. ''Death.''

  ''Please do learn some nursery rhymes. For me.''

  Michael ughs. ''I will.'' After a quick sigh, he adds, ''For you.'' He softly clears his throat. ''We should go. Our ride won't wait for long.''