Not all perished. Some had wisely stood out of the flame’s reach. They ran, likely to spread the news of the tannery’s destruction. And I heard the word they all whispered.
Monster.
Another term I’d learned from Terrick’s fiction books. This one had two meanings: a strange and horrible creature, or a human capable of great wickedness.
I was both.
Monster.
My stomach heaved. I must have vomited—the sticky taste of bile coated my tongue—but I didn’t remember. A fog crept across my brain, distorting my thoughts. My body moved stiffly and on its own accord, as though another entity had taken control of my limbs.
As I stood to flee, I noticed something shiny rippling in the cold autumn wind.
The tunic.
It lay draped over the crumbled wooden beams of the building. It was whole. Unburnt. Its colors dazzled even through the smoky haze. I staggered to it. Shards of wood, stone, and glass cut into my bare feet, but I felt no pain.
How had the tunic survived?
It had been hanging in the armoire when the fire started and should have burned with the rest of our belongings.
My flame-wrapped fingers stretched out. The fabric was cool to the touch, unbothered by my fire.
I peeled the tunic away from the wooden beam and slipped it over my head. It was, as I’d once suspected, made for an adult, and for someone with a much larger frame than mine. The sleeves cascaded beyond my fingertips, the hem brushed against my shins, and I had to re-wrap the laces—an arduous task with my hands so unsteady—to close the front over my chest.
The tunic did not disintegrate, even as the fire continued to twirl over my skin.
I staggered through the city streets, my bloodied feet slipping on the stone. People screamed when I passed them. I wrapped my arms around my chest, shivering. When the fire left me several minutes later, I missed it. A wretched curse it may have been, but it had provided some measure of protection against the cold.
I wandered, hardly aware of which direction I traveled in. And I heard more shouting; cries that a Celestial had attacked Darfield.
“The tannery…did you see what it did to the tannery?”
“It looks like achild!”
“Can Celestials change their form?”
My vision blurred. I sulked in the shadows, slipping into narrow alleys whenever I saw people approaching. They were hunting me now. I had to leave.
And yet, the thought of fleeing made my chest hurt.
My time at Darfield had certainly not been kind. The years had produced few good memories. But I’d had a home in this city. I’d had someone who loved me and had tried to do what was best for me. That was gone now. I was barely into adulthood (only seventeen if my estimates are correct) and I was alone.
My options were bleak. The humans’ hatred for Wraiths and Celestialsran deep. If I stayed, I’d undoubtedly be tortured to a slow,excrutiating—excruciatingdeath. Which should have frightened me, but it didn’t. I didn’t care what they did to me.
I worried whatIwould do tothem.
Seven soldiers rushed by my alleyway. They didn’t notice me; their eyes focused on the plume of smoke rising from where the tannery had once been. I waited, holding my breath. When the sound of their footsteps faded, I emerged from the shadows—
And gasped as rough hands encircled my arms.
The fingers tightened, spinning me around, bringing me face-to-face with my captor.
The blue-eyed boy.
But a boy no longer.
I knew he’d grown but witnessing the changes from my bedroom window wasn’t as shocking as observing them up close. He was taller than I remembered; the tip of my head only reached his chest. Bands of muscle corded around his arms. A thick coat of dark whiskers obscured much of his face. But his brilliant eyes were the same, even as they regarded me with apprehension.
