The sight of a proper shower in my new room floods my whole body with relief. It’s a carbon copy of the ones we have in the shelter back home, clearly designed to purge any latent radiation from the water before it ever hits my body. It feels like I’ve been wearing this sun-forsaken radiation suit for an eternity. I shuffle to the changing area, drawing the curtain shut despite being technically the only organic present. Aspect has yet to develop a filter between their handmade neurology and their vocal mechanisms; the last thing I need is them casually recounting the appearance of my naked body to Adria when she returns.
The thought sets my own face ablaze. I wonder if nightfolk have similar boundaries around nudity. I wonder what a full nightfolk body looks like, uncovered by the dark, heavy clothes they seem to prefer. Iwonder why I’m thinking about this at all, why my brain saw fit to brand itself with the arch of Adria’s wings, the breadth of her shoulders, the cruel, boyish amusement in the sweep of her ruby-red mouth.
Get it together, Kori.
My armor peels away like scales. Clean air hitting the flesh of my face comes as a welcome relief. The shower coughs ugly greenish-brown water when I first activate it, clearly not having had a dayfolk guest in generations. The nearby toilet, too, has some old, unaddressed mold and unusual, deep-set discoloration from prolonged disuse.
Thankfully, after a moment, the shower water runs beautifully clear, which is when I step in. And, oh, stars above, it feels incredible. I turn the water up as hot as the mechanism allows. I want to boil like the sea meat in that useless memory. I want to burn away every trauma I’ve experienced sinceCharon’s crash. Every splash sears my skin, reminds me I’m still alive.
The changing area contains a generic set of vaguely humanoid-proportioned clothing. Despite having directly copied some other things, it seems the nightfolk never obtained dayfolk-made clothes for potential dayfolk visitors. The legs and arms are still too long for any but the tallest, most muscular members of our species, so Aspect helps me tear the excess length away, resulting in awkward, jagged edges of frayed fabric. Even so, the material is smooth, silken, and settles like cold water over my aching skin. The comfort lulls me toward a tempting sleep, but I refuse to sit down on the bed and let it take me.
Adria thinks she’s captured a conditioned prisoner, born and raised in strict limits, accustomed to layers of armor and walls. But I’ve only ever taken boundaries as a challenge, for better or for worse. I could sit here and wait for the ransom payment, hoping the softer heart behind Adria’s glacial gaze prevails, but I may never have a better chance to offer Aspect a glimpse of another perspective entirely.
Just like in the Morpheus Market, I still don’t know exactly what I’m looking for. But if it’s something to be found amidst the nightfolk, this may be my only chance to obtain it.
Of course, while returning home with a sentient Aspect would be a total victory for me, it would set me up to appear as the ultimate criminal to my own people. The list of offenses would be something to behold: Violating the trade rules of the Morpheus Market, communicating with nightfolk, trespassing into the Shadowlands, illegally experimenting with memory application into a fully synthetic being … and how much worse if they could see Aspect was fullythinking, fully their own person now as a result of those experiments? I would be a monster to the Daylands, with my own makeshift metal monster in tow. Even my mother wouldn’t be able to protect me from whatever punishment Daylands society deemed necessary, not to mention the Morpheus Market’s Coalition.
So my purpose now is twofold. One: Find something nightfolk that’s capable of raising Aspect to sentience. Two: Find something nightfolk that holds value to the Daylands if I bring it home.
Right now, in the eyes of any other dayfolk, I’m a stubborn child who played with darkness just to prove I could. But there remains a chance to become a bold explorer who delved fearlessly into the depths, emerging with buried nightfolk secrets that could maintain dayfolk security on Pagomènos for generations to come.
And Aspect has more tricks programmed into those tiny arms than Adria could even begin to guess at. Code breakers. Overrides.
Even for chambers designed to detect and punish unauthorized organics.
I refuse to separate from Aspect again, and Adria’s installed tracker will certainly notify her that we’ve wandered beyond our assigned space. But she is a queen, after all. Surely she has other pressing matters to attend to. By the time she notices our location, I could have my hands on exactly what I need to awaken Aspect. What’s the worst Adria could do in retaliation then? Kill me? If I’d stayed home, locked underground, ever obedient to my mother and my doctor and my government and the supposed limitations of science, too afraid to eventryinstilling sentience in my closest friend, it would’ve been like waking death regardless.
I would rather die trying to awaken Aspect than live wondering if I missed my best chance. And I’m willing to bet that with a ransom on the table, Adria wouldn’t dare cut my life short or even risk permanent harm.
Lost in thought, I idly tap my fingers on the air lock control panel.
Aspect has been pacing the length of the chamber. They pause, angling their head like a curious child. “What is Kori—thinking?”
A smile curls across my lips. “Another terrible idea, probably.”
“Aspect—loves—terrible ideas.”
“And that,” I say, reluctantly retrieving my radiation suit again, “is why I love you.”
The nightfolk fortress twists and loops back in on itself like the bottomless gullet of an impossibly long sun serpent. I don’t know with certainty how long Aspect’s hack will delay Adria from being notified that we broke containment. I don’t know where we’re going or what we’re even looking for. This entire endeavor may just be compounding the increasingly severe stack of mistakes that brought us here. But I refuse to trade the cage of my life in the Daylands for a new one here in the darkness.
The halls are windowless, so they would be like an inkwell, all texture blotted out, but for periodic braziers of the same blue flame Adria conjured outside my cell. They illuminate the rugged stone walls and floors, as well as staggered banners of blues and purples that I can’t help but call beautiful. Presumably the torches should have attendants, and the hallways guards, but I don’t see any.
Almost as soon as I have the thought, frantic footsteps thunder from somewhere close.
My heart beating out of my chest, I seize Aspect and slam both of us flat against the wall, then yank us behind the nearest banner of deep indigo. It isn’t long before I can see nightfolk feet, their oblivious conversations also audible as they pass.
“Is the queen so useless that she can’t predict a single rebel attack?” says one nightfolk. “We could’ve intercepted them before they reached the gate, and this isn’t the first time. It’s obscene.”
The clicks of freezeshot weapons at the ready. The rush of wings opening, readying.
“A hell of a thing,” says a second nightfolk, “to take a kingdom by force, then cower upon being asked to crush further opposition.”
“It is her uncle, to be fair,” says a third voice.
“Spare me, Isek. Since when has family meant anything to the queen?”
A fourth voice interjects, booming, “Enough. There will be a time to critique the queen, but that time is not with rebel rifles on our doorstep.”
