“Innocent?” Aruna spits. “You’re mutated abominations!”
Kalden’s voice is calm, yet firm. “You’ve all been lied to. It takes more than sun exposure to mutate into the creatures you’ve been told are Sols. Despite the temporary powers gifted to us, we’re as human as you are.”
Twilynn angles her head towards me, then Gem, who stands at my side. “You believe that?”
“I do,” Gem says. “Think about it. We’re told Sols are too engrossed in their hunger to communicate, that their intelligence gives way to animalistic instinct. If that were true, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
Kalden adjusts his grip on Joss. “We really don’t have time to explain more right now. The bandages help, but she still needs a mender. Follow us, or don’t.”
“I can’t leave her,” Demi roughly whispers from where she hovers over Yvonne’s body.
“I’ll carry your friend back to Lucis for a proper burial, if you’d like,” Niles offers.
She gives a stiff dip of her chin.
“If you try to run, I will catch you,” Niles warns before releasing Gabe to lift Yvonne.
My spine prickles as I fall into step behind Kalden while the others trail behind, continuing our trek into the den of Sols.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
These people aren’t monsters.Though we’ve only been inside the village for a matter of minutes, I’ve seen enough to erase any lingering doubts.
On the surface, Sols have features that are distinctly inhuman—like incandescent eyes and gold-streaked veins shimmering beneath their skin—but anyone who bothers to study their interactions for more than a few minutes would realize how undeniably normal they are. Men and women amble around while chatting animatedly with their neighbors about the cloud of false night bleeding into the southern outskirts of the village, drawing a harsh line between shade and sun across the outermost domed structures.
Conversations soften into whispers as Kalden passes with Joss in his arms, and Yvonne in Niles’s, but crescendo closer to a regular volume by the time I meander past at the tail end of our group. The onlookers exchange theories about what happened to Joss.
“Does it have something to do with the black cloud?”
“Where did it come from?”
“How long do you think it’ll last?”
“I wonder what the High Sol will do about it.”
“Should we be worried?”
The children don’t seem to share these concerns as they chase one another through the shallow waters below the raised pathways, daring each other to test who’s brave enough to get the closest to the darkened edge.
A little girl with dark blonde curls and full cheeks catches my eye as she leaps across the top of the domes. I jolt forward, heart racing as I envision her falling through the ten-foot gap between the round structures. But my fear is proven misplaced as she sticks the landing with a giggle.
My throat tightens as she jumps to the next dome, and the next. Moving so freely.
No one tells her to get down. Nobody warns her that she could hurt herself or cause a scene. In fact, the few people who glance her way give the child a little cheer of encouragement. It’s a stark contrast to the expectations of modesty, humility, and restraint placed on the young daughters of Caligo.
As if she senses my attention, the child turns her head in my direction with a grin that stretches almost the entire width of her face. I smile back and offer a quick clap before catching back up to Gem at the tail end of our group.
We follow the winding path towards the heart of the village, passing by a myriad of vibrant glass structures, even more dazzling up close than they were from afar. We come to a halt outside one of the more generously sized domes, its white glass walls more opaque than some of the others. Hovering within the open doorway is a vertical layer of suspended lucent liquid.
Kalden adjusts his grip on Joss, then disappears beneath the doorway.
Answering my unspoken question, Niles sticks his leg through. “It cleanses and sterilizes those who enter. Fairly standard protocol in most mending facilities.”
When he pulls back his leg, the gore that was caked around the hem of his pants is gone.
My lips form an O as I stare, dumbfounded by the “standard protocol.” How is there anythingstandardabout a gravity-defying vertical bath?
Niles waves for us to file in, carefully maneuvering Yvonne so her feet don’t hit the doorframe.
