I hadn’t considered how difficult it would be to relieve myself from high in the trees. I’m met with blank stares for a moment before someone takes pity on me and directs me to a ladder which I use to climb back to ground level. It’s made harder by the fact that I cannot seem to grasp the rope, nor see straight, nor stop swaying at the slightest breeze.

  Thankfully replete and quite satisfied, the forest night is cooling and me with it; it is a far cry from the blaze of the fire above and the warmth that spread through me with the touch of the drink. Part of me, the newest part, longs to be back among them. Dance. Laughter. Jokes. Tales. There is more joviality on that small platform than in the lifetime of the fifth tribe.

  I wander away from the village a small way. It’s dark but my new eye seems to compensate. It has been drawing lines and plucking strange symbols from the air for the past days and now it sketches the ground before me in lines of blue contouring about the objects in my path. It isn’t a light, though, so I do stumble over the small things.

  I rest with my hand on a tree trunk and let the sounds of the null cycle wash over me. The trees creak and their leaves rustle as though whispering secrets. The ground groans as their massive roots dig deep into the earth and pull and push at it.

  There are monsters too. Far away and in the distance I hear the cries of something feral; perhaps it is the creature that the tribe hunt for their clothes. There’s something else too. Closer. It isn’t screaming and I wonder if it is dangerous. But the drink is dulling my senses and I don’t wonder quickly enough.

  It is a pool of light that catches me first; a golden glow that flickers with a familiar brightness and washes over me like a comforting wave. It shows the forest ahead, but instead of lighting it like day it only throws deeper shadows and makes darker places.

  It is a hand, now. Hot enough to singe the hairs on my new coat. The scent of burning hair pierces my stupor and I fall away from the flame.

  “What?” I ask stupidly as I scramble back away from the fire, I’ve dropped onto my backside and scuttle like an upturned bug to distance myself. It’s no use.

  Oran steps forward, deftly avoiding a tree root and stooping beneath a branch. He’s kept his flames low to hide from the eyes of the village; they sprout from his eyes and wrap about his brow like a fiery crown. His sword hangs in its sheath at his hip.

  He’s smiling.

  My heart thumps so loud that I can’t hear his first words. He frowns, steps closer, and speaks again.

  “I never thought I’d see anyone from the fifth tribe again. Who could have imagined it would be you? The architects truly do provide, don’t they?”

  I push myself up to my feet, the warmth of the beer has been driven from my body and I stand cold, afraid, and defiant. My face tingles; it remembers the heat of those hands and the dreadful things they can do.

  “Lo, Oran.”

  “Lo, Pik.” He looks at me. His hands clench and unclench at his side as his flaming eyes rove over me. He takes in my new clothes, the breadth of my shoulders now enhanced by my heightening, and he lingers most on that ruined part of me inflicted in anger.

  His voice is low, almost friendly. “It was the same night, you know, that we all were scattered. I didn’t know the cocoons could come when we were outside, but I was sleeping and then—” he blows out his cheeks and lets out a, “poof! And we were all tied up. I didn’t see the rest, but I assume we’re all sent far and wide. But you. You came here. Right where I’d find you. Isn’t that…fortuitous?”

  “I was in a mountain segment. It was freezing when I woke up. Were you here?”

  Oran chuckles. He knows what I’m doing and he lets me know it won’t work. “Wonderful to share tales, isn’t it? No, I wasn’t here. Two segments over in a swampy mess. Had to kill dozens of these fat salamander creatures before I was picked up by one the tribal parties. I was surprised as anything to find that they live like this. Can you imagine? Can’t say I miss being on the move.”

  “I don’t like to stay in one place too much, it must be momentum. Look, I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning. I don’t plan to come back here so if you wanted to—”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Stay? Of course. Why would I want to leave? Except to head into the dungeons, of course, I want to pick myself up a few more treasures to go with this one.” He pats his sword to remind me it’s there. “You don’t have to go, Pik. You could stay and…what was it you used to do? Find the feeding tubes? Well, maybe not then.”

  “Aviela will be missing me, I should get back to the celebration before she comes looking.”

  “She’s not looking for you, Pik. No one is looking for you. They’re having such a good time. Last I saw your friend she was dancing with marked Lei. I don’t think she’s got time or care for a… oh, yes. Congratulations are in order, aren’t they? Heightened Pik now. What a world we live in that poor, dead weight Pik would finally reach the milestone a child achieves.”

  “I’m not dead weight.”

  “No?” Oran steps forward, the fire in his eyes burning brighter, or perhaps it’s my fear reflected. I can feel the lick of it on my flesh as he presses so close that his sweet breath clogs my nose. “No. You’re not dead weight, are you, Pik? This was me, wasn’t it?”

  My breath hitches as he raises a hand so slowly. I could bat him away, I could do so many things if my body didn’t protest. I’m pinned in place as sweat, cold on my back and warm on my face, pours from me. I want to be sick. Oran traces the bumps and whorls that have become the skin around my new eye. I twitch and the skin tightens.

  “Your eye is a different colour now.” He tilts his head to inspect and peers closer. “I’ve burned monsters, lots of them obviously, and whenever I hold their faces. Just like this.” He slowly lowers his hand across my whole face until I am looking into his palm with his fingers gently cupping the outside. “They don’t change the colour of their eyes. Do you know what really happens? Hmm? No guesses.” He sighs. “They melt.”

  As quick as he sighs he lifts his hand and pushes one finger against my forehead playfully. “You’re becoming interesting, heightened Pik. Not as much as me, of course, but what a pair we make. I like it here. Are you sharing stories, Pik?”

  “I’m not sharing any stories.” I croak out my reply, the place where his finger pressed is a hot coal and all I can imagine is my skin cooking away and my flesh boiling into nothing. I resist my urge to rub it.

  “I saw a Marked kill a Heightened once. You weren’t there, it wasn’t part of our tribe. One of the seventeenth, I think. I was so worried about what would happen but nothing did, not for the longest time and then.” Oran whistles. “All at once the earth itself reached up and swallowed that Marked like he never existed. Why are you so despised by the architects that they would not smite me?”

  “Maybe you’re special. Might not be me at all.”

  He is pacing now, walking back and forth across the path that I would need to take back to the static village. He wags a finger at me. “Now you’re not being a serious person, Pik. I know when you’re trying to manipulate me, I always did. Only back in the fifth tribe you were nothing. Not someone I cared about whether you lived, died, or existed at all. Now though. No. I think you’re hated. I think that is what is special about you, Pik, that you are so hated by the architects that they would laugh to see you disappear.”

  I swallow and straighten my back. “I’m leaving tomorrow, Oran. I’m going to go and Aviela is going to help me condition myself so that I can advance to Marked. Why didn’t you tell anyone how to do it? There were so many people in the tribe that could have progressed if you’d helped them.”

  “Tomorrow, is it? We’ll see. Why would I help them, Pik? There was nothing to gain from having more Marked. It wouldn’t have given me more food, nor made travel easier.”

  “More of us might have lived. Maybe you wouldn’t have lost the trial either.”

  He is on me before my foolish words have had a moment to strum the air.

  “I didn’t lose you shade scum.” His words a spit as a harsh whisper into my face. “I would have ascended if you weren’t there cursing us. The architects were punishing us.”

  His flame does burn me now. His eyes blaze so brightly that it scorches the hair from my face and curls some strands of my mop. I don’t fall back. The same fear that had held me rigid at his slow approach rods my spine. “You can’t blame me, Oran. I was cheering for you. I wanted you to succeed.”

  “I bet you did. You wanted me gone so you could, what? Die in peace? That’s what would have happened if I’d gone. You’d have had no one to wipe you or stop some pathetic monster from making a meal of you.”

  “I wanted you to win because I was proud of you.”

  Oran rears back. Emotions run rampant across his face but it finally settles into a wicked sneer. “You’re a shade cursed liar.” I notice now that his hand has fallen to the hilt of his sword and his eyes follow mine. He whispers. “I should, you know. I could. No one would hear.”

  “Do you want to do it?”

  “More than anything.” His voice is husky, breathy at the thought of ending me.

  “You could have done it before I knew you were there.”

  “I could have. What’s your point?”

  “Do you want to destroy the last link to what you used to be?”

  He chuckles dryly. “I’m not sentimental, Pik. You won’t stay my hand with wicked words. But… I don’t know. This place, this time, it doesn’t feel right. No. I don’t think tonight is when you die, Pik. But soon. Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to let you leave without a gift, what kind of person would I be?”

  Marked are so, so fast and so much stronger than Heightened. He takes my left hand into his own and pinches my palm and the back of my hand between his thumb and forefinger. Just that grip is enough to keep me in place as his fingertips glow, and burn, and my flesh puckers and melts and I can’t cry out as he grips my mouth with his other hand.

  I pass out with the stink of cooking meat filling my nose and an old hatred given new life in my heart.