Off in the distance, I can see a row of wooden housing. It’s dark here too—the moons are bright and shining, but I realize that there are no stars in the Eretharian night sky.
I don’t know what that means. Maybe it’s their atmosphere. Or maybe they’re alone in their universe.
I turn my attention back to Cielo as he leads me to a copse of trees that seem to be guarding the portal, and he ducks down as he slips past low branches. I follow, keeping up on my toes as he pulls me along under the dark canopy.
There are strange noises everywhere. Some buzzing, some singing. I wonder if those dragonish Seymosiare sleeping in the trees above us.
I don’t have the chance to ask him. The path opens up, and suddenly I realize we’re near a village. There are small huts all over, and what looks like a community fire burning in the center.
The little roads are mostly deserted, but I can see a few Vyastil moving around. They’re speaking in their language, the low, melodic hum almost soothing, though their tone is very different from the ones I’ve heard before.
They seem…tired. And they’re thin and not nearly as tall as the ones I’ve met in the capital.
“Where are we?” I whisper.
Cielo dips his head low toward my ear and whispers. “Hommm.”
“Home?” I repeat. He nods. “Your home? You live here?”
He nods again.
It’s so…different. Simpler than the lavish apartments Rathyn introduced me to. And then I realize exactly where I am. “The Outerlands.”
He nods again.
Is this why he lives in that hovel on Earth? Because he’s from the Outerlands?
Instead, I ask, “Is it…is it safe?”
Biting his lip, his gaze cuts over, and suddenly I’m hit almost violently with the memory of the image Rathyn showed me. The trees with the pink trunks and the path cutting through them.
This is the dangerous area. The place Rathyn never wanted me to come. This is where the others are. The ones Rathyn told me are the real monsters.
I swallow heavily. “Take me to him.”
Cielo puts a finger to his lips. Then we creep on the edge of the path, sticking to the shadows as we move through the village. Oddly, I don’t feel afraid. There’s just something in the air that tells me what Rathyn believes about this place is wrong.
I don’t know how to explain it, and I can’t allow myself to focus on it too much. Not when Rathyn’s life is at stake. I keep hold of Cielo’s arm as he leads me through the trees and eventually onto the path that Rathyn sent me.
The place smells sweet—almost sickly so—and it takes a moment for me to see that the path is lined with rotting fruit. My eyes arch up, and I see large orange orbs hanging above us. The fruit is larger than an orange, with bright cerulean blue skin.
I feel an urge to reach out and pluck one, but I don’t get the chance. Cielo picks up speed, veering right, and drags me through prickly bushes, the thorns catching my skin, until we burst through. And that’s when I see the mouth of the cave.
From here, I can make out the sound of singing.
My skin is aching from the scrapes, and I can feel bits of blood trickling down my hands, where my skin was exposed, but I ignore it in favor of following Cielo up the pathway. It’s steep, and my lungs are burning by the time we make it, but we’re here.
And we’re alone.
So far, no alarms have gone off. No one has followed us.
Before Cielo can lead me inside, I yank him back. “There’s something else,” I whisper. His eyes widen. “He’s not alone.” I do my best to try and describe the thing I saw, and Cielo’s face falls.
He doesn’t look afraid. He doesn’t look angry. He looks…resigned.
“Is that the…the…” I struggle to remember the name, but I don’t know if Rathyn has ever said it before. “The ones who hurt the Vyastil?”
Cielo lets out a very small sigh, then nods and says something in his language that kind of sounds like Tarek.
