PROLOGUE
EZZO
I’ve drunk too much. Way—way—too much, and I’m not in a place where it’s safe to do that. I’m not even sure where I am, to be honest;
I was already half a bottle in when I got here. To this strange new bar, in a strange new city, full of strange new customs but all the same hate and lies. All the same nightmares. Because no matter how far I go—or how much I drink—I can’t escape the sound of her scream and the hell of her shatter. The taste of my grief.
So, I order another. And another. And another after that, relishing the burn of the whiskey. The oblivion. The relief. A liquid escape from reality that only ends once the barkeep grows tired of my misery
and insists that I leave.
Fine. Then I’ll leave.I stumble out of his musty, overpriced tavern, the harsh tendrils of morning throwing the unfamiliar streets into sharp relief. Magnolia brick instead of the pallid gray I’m used to; terracotta roofs instead of sun-kissed slate; paved stone roads instead of uneven cobbles.
Sarotuza.
The farthest city away from the one I left behind.
From the memories I abandoned there.
The buried shards of emerald glass.
I don’t know why I thought it would feel different to any of the other cities I’ve travelled through this past year—if the drink can’t numb the pain, what was a change of scenery going to do?—andanyone who says that time is the answer clearly doesn’t understand the question.
Why did she have to die?
Or better yet,why couldn’t it have been me?
It should have been me.The thought is bitter, and sour, and vile. I was the one the spell was aimed at, after all. The spare wheel who had already fulfilled his purpose. But death doesn’t take those who deserve it the most. If it did, it would have come for them, not her. The ones responsible.
How you doing, Ez?The scry around my neck warms with a question of its own, as though sensing my despair. Novi always did have a knack for knowing when I’m at my lowest.
Alive.I clasp the crystal in my hand and reply with the same one-word missive I send her every day. Never more, never less. And the only reason I still respond at all is because as a Hue, I know what it’s like to worry about those you love. To lose sleep wondering whether they were caught by a Council tracker, killed by a Church enforcer, or shattered by the Gray.
There are oh-so-many ways to die when your very existence is illegal.
And yet, not a single one has deigned to come and claim me.
I stagger through the streets towards the inn where I’m staying, garnering dirty looks from the bleary-eyed merchants making ready to start their day. They shake their heads and mutter disapprovingly at my disheveled state—a judgement I’ve grown all too familiar with since I stopped counting my drinks. Just as I’ve grown all too familiar with the sinking feeling that comes with having lost my key. Again. A problem since the door to the inn is kept locked until the sixth bell and I’m not carrying my picks.
I have no way of getting inside.
Or at least, no normal way.
But if there’s one upside to being a Hue, it’s the ability to shed my physicality and walk through walls. Not in the real world, of course—here, I’m as physical as the ground beneath my feet; I have to marshal my energy and phase into the Gray.
Even in my drunken state, the magic comes as easily as breathing.
In the space between blinks, color turns to ash and light turns to charcoal, a rainbow of grays that undulates like water bleeding through black ink, draping the streets in a smokey veil. Once I’m safely ensconced in the shadow realm, I become invisible to the typics. Incorporeal. Able to wisp straight through the inn door, and up the stairs, and into my room, where I then phase back in perfect time to collapse on the bed instead of falling right through it.
Maybe if I still cared about my life, I wouldn’t have done my phasing in plain sight, where anyone could see me.
Maybe if I hadn’t drunk so much, I’d have thought to check the coast for Shades before succumbing to the threat of dreams.
But I don’t.
And I did.
And Eve is still gone, and she’s dead, and I want to be.
