Alone, Skye wandered over to the bookshelves. The collection of a hermit living in the woods didn’t seem promising, but he hoped these books weren’t censored like those in the hidden library.

  Scanning the spines, Skye realized there existed more languages than he’d ever imagined. Some used mangled, conjoined letters; others looked like wriggling worms squashed underfoot. Among the jumble, he found two books in Troquean: one was a cyclopedic compilation of crystals discovered in the Deeps, and the other detailed the history of Troqua since its founding.

  A set of tomes caught his attention, written in a script that felt eerily familiar. The characters danced just on the edge of recognition, like the face of an old friend whose name hovered at the edge of his tongue. Selecting one at random, he pulled it from the shelf and returned to the sofa.

  “‘Origins… of the… Titans,’” Skye read aloud.

  How could he read that? The shapes of the letters, their arrangement… they simply made sense.

  “Your heart’s beating fast,” Redeyes noted. “Don’t give in to hope. It’s an excellent anesthetic, but deadly in the long run.”

  “Don’t you get it?!” Skye said, his hands trembling as they clutched the book. “I know this language because I must have learned it before I was cursed. This could be my mother tongue! If I can trace this book’s origin, it might be my first lead to breaking the curse!”

  A surge of darkness swelled from the book, swallowing the room like an onyx sun. Nothing was visible anymore, not the book, not his hands, and not even Redeyes. The world turned coal-black, cold, and callous, like the bottom of a crypt, or the corner of a cavern full of clicking chains, crawling insects, and conversational corpses.

  When he woke, he was lying on a smooth surface surrounded by stygian smoke. It coiled and twisted around him, sucking at his energy like thirsty leeches. Screaming, he scrambled to his feet, but the smoke clung to him, forming dismembered, skeletal limbs that clawed at his clothes.

  “Hungry…” they hissed.

  “Feed us…” they moaned.

  “Please…”

  The wails grew louder as more shadows emerged, rushing toward him with desperate, grasping hands. He ran in the nothingness, moving nowhere. The only light came from Redeyes, whose fiery glow flickered like a dying ember.

  “Now this is an exciting way to die,” Redeyes said as Skye hid behind his fiery frame.

  “Where are we?” Skye demanded, kicking away a phantom limb that reached too close.

  “How should I know?” Redeyes replied, tone gleeful. “This is your imagination.”

  “No, it’s not,” Skye denied. “Something brought us here.”

  He glanced at the book still clutched in his hands to check for enchantments, but it seemed utterly ordinary. Among the endless cries and supplications, chilling laughter rose. It wasn’t a single voice, but hundreds of hushed giggles that reverberated against the ethereal edges of this hollow domain.

  Then the eyes opened.

  They spanned the sky, each yellow like the noon’s sun but without warmth or passion, with pupils of pure jet. Their stare was so heavy he could barely stand.

  “WHAT ARE YOU?” The booming voice erupted from nowhere and everywhere.

  “I—I’m Skye,” he stammered, looking up at the enormous, unblinking eyes. “Who are you? Where am I? What do you want from me?”

  “It asked ‘what’, not ‘who’,” Redeyes corrected, unbothered as misty hands climbed him.

  “I’m human,” Skye said, slapping at a writhing limb, dissipating it. The giggles echoed louder, and the eyes glared, unblinking. “I’m Adamian,” he tried, recalling the term Luccello had used. When the silence stretched, he added in frustration, “I’m a monkey. Just get me out of here!”

  All at once, the giggles turned to hums, then thousands of childlike voices sang in unison.

  “Silent is your pace

  Absent is your trace

  When they finally see you

  You like to race

  Darkness is your friend

  Close is your end

  When they finally reach you

  You like to pretend”

  The hands swarmed closer, multiplying in size and ferocity. They no longer dissolved under his strikes; instead, they latched onto his clothes, claws sharpening at their tips.

  “It’s a riddle,” Redeyes said. His fiery glow dimmed as the limbs buried him. He made no attempt to resist, letting the darkness consume him.

  “I don’t know what it means!” Skye shouted, struggling to free himself from the insistent hands.

  “Think,” Redeyes urged. “Guess.”

  “Shadow?” Skye ventured. “Am I shadow? A ghost? Is it an animal?”

  The giggles rose again, coalescing into a second verse:

  “Your craft is unwanted

  Yet you are sought

  Your work is arduous

  Yet you offer naught

  Your path is haunted

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Yet you are alone

  Your acts are notorious

  Yet you live unknown”

  “Craft?” Skye asked, mind racing. “Is it a profession?”

  The hands coiled around his legs, clambering toward his chest, pulling him down. Panic threatened to overwhelm him as his knees slammed against the ground, struggling for breath. Which occupations were in demand, but undesired?

  “Doctor?” he shouted desperately. No one wanted to see a physician unless necessary, and their failures could haunt them, making them infamous.

  “How many doctors work in the dark?” Redeyes asked. The pyroxos was almost completely entombed in smoke, abandoning Skye for the gloom. “They save lives; that’s more than naught.”

  “It’s me!” Skye cried, desperation rising in his chest. “I’m cursed. I’m nobody! I have nothing to give, but I have to fight for the city!”

  The murmuring ensemble ignored him, launching into another verse:

  “You believe you are clever

  You believe you are bold

  Your marks are your betters

  Your payment is their gold

  You claim you are innocent

  You claim you are true

  Your captors are vehement

  Your punishment is their due”

  The shadows surged, wrapping around his chest and face, pinching and pulling at his skin. He cried in pain as they yanked his hair and ears, almost tearing them off. Their yearning engulfed him, and he feared they’d have him all.

  “Gold,” Redeyes said faintly, barely a spark visible through the shroud of wiggling shadows. “It’s a measure of wealth for some.”

  That’s right; he’d read about it. Gold shined yellow, but was useless as coal. He needed a line of work done in darkness, hated yet lucrative.

  “Warden!” he yelled, gritting his teeth. “Constable. Miner. Prospector. Grave digger. Mortician. Shrooms dealer. Assassin!”

  “All those provide something,” Redeyes said as his light was extinguished like a candle in an ocean.

  “Thief!” Skye screamed, tears streaming down his face as the murky tendrils poked his eyes. “I’m a thief!”

  “YES, YOU ARE.”

  With sharp nails, the hands forced Skye’s jaw open, slithering inside. They tasted of sorrow and loss, like the death of a loved one in his arms. Then as it slid down his throat, it tasted sharp and metallic, like cold steel slicing him from the inside.

  “Enough!”

  The bellow sent shivers down the oppressive darkness, shattering it. Cracks of white light burst through, scattering the writhing shadows.

  Skye collapsed to the ground, trembling and drenched in sweat. He coughed violently, dislodging the foam that clung to his mouth and nose. His limbs felt like lead, drained of all strength. As he struggled to move, a carpet of shimmering light stretched beneath him, lifting him gently.

  “Have you gone mad?” Luccello’s voice rang out, the white feathers of his crown bristled with indignation. “Throwing a child into Umbragna? The master will be furious with you!”

  Perched high atop a windowsill, a black bird stood, its wings woven from shifting shadows—the same raven that had stolen Skye’s fish by the brook.

  “He steals from master. He reads book!” the raven accused, its sharp voice grating, emanating from its undulating wings rather than its beak. “He faces trial. He is found guilty!”

  Skye coughed, then spat phlegm aside. “I solved your stupid riddle, but you didn’t stop,” he snarled, glowering murder at the raven. He wanted to rip its feathers out and roast it on a spike.

  “He is not yours to judge,” Luccello shouted at the raven. “He was brought here by the master. You disgrace this house by attacking a guest. Leave. Now.”

  The raven let out a defiant caw before it flew into a shadowy corner, sinking into nothingness.

  “That was exciting!” Redeyes said, spasming in elation. “Let’s do it again!”

  “I apologize for Ka’ib,” Luccello said, sighing as he landed on the sofa. “He’s not the brightest among us; no pun intended. Are you alright? Can you stand?”

  Skye shook his head, still catching his breath.

  “Goodness gracious galactacious! Leave the kid alone; he looks like a ghost has seen him!” a new gruff voice said, his speech fast, barely recognizable. It was the lucky fairy-bird Skye had failed to hunt the day before. “Those things can cast nasty curses with their eyes, believe me, I know. One time—“

  “Not now, Pairi,” Luccello interrupted. “Unseal the door.”

  “Just a quick story, I promise,” Pairi insisted, making Luccello groan. “One time, I got cursed by a ghost. It made every face I saw look like my sweet aunt Lupa’s. She was… unconventionally attractive: popping eyes, split beak, bald neck, leaking rectum, you know, the whole works. Nearly broke my marriage before I managed to lift it! Ugh, dark days, those were, dark days. By the by, the name’s Pairi Papilary. Remember it cause one day, you’ll be proud to have met me.”

  “Umm, hello, Pairi,” Skye said, unsure how to react. “I’m Skye.”

  “Pairi,” Luccello growled, patience wearing thin. “Stop talking. And. Unseal. The door!”

  “Alright, alright! What a merciless slavedriver,” Pairi muttered as he flew to the doorframe. Rubbing his shimmering wings together, pink dust rained down over the threshold. “Seven days a week I’m forced to do unpaid labor on my off-days, ugh! Perhaps I should research how to break my curse.”

  “Cross now, quickly,” Luccello ordered, nudging Skye forward with a soft glow of light.

  The roots hidden in the doorframe twitched as Skye stepped beneath the glittering rain, but didn’t bar his passage. The meadow outside was vast and vacant, with only a few mossy rocks to break the scenery.

  “Wait.” Skye said, resisting Luccello prodding. “You know how to break curses?”

  “Why yes, of course! I’m a master of curses,” Pairi proclaimed, landing on Skye’s forearm. “Visual aberrations, auditory hallucinations, trichological misfortunes, gastrointestinal miscalculations… I can fix them all. Are you cursed by any chance? I’d love to examine it.”

  “Yes, I am!” Skye exclaimed, only to succumb to a fit of sneezes as he inhaled the glittery dust Pairi shed.

  “Oh, dear me, that’s a dreadful curse indeed!” Pairi said, rubbing his wings. “Here, let me help.”

  Before Skye could object, a burst of blue glitter shot from Pairi’s wings, clouding his face. It stifled his sneeze, leaving him stuck in the unbearable tension of almost sneezing but unable to release.

  “What… did you do?!” Skye managed, his face twitching, nostrils itching.

  “Why, I cured your curse, like you requested,” Pairi said, tilting his head inquisitively.

  “That’s enough, Pairi. You may leave,” Luccello interjected. “Boy, head east through the forest, your city shouldn’t be far.”

  “No, wait!” Skye pleaded. His face contorted in an anticipating frown, head twitching back and forth, waiting for the almost-there-never-coming sneeze. “Please! Let me sneeze.”

  “That’s an odd request, but who am I to judge?” Pairi said as he rubbed his wings, producing green glitter this time.

  With a loud, cathartic sneeze, Skye finally cleared his nose.

  “Would you like to sneeze again? I have a curse for that too!” Pairi chirped. “You know the saying: tickle a man’s nose and he sneezes once, cast a sneezing curse on him and he’ll sneeze for the rest of his life. Surprisingly, that wouldn’t be long. I tried it on a beaver once, poor thing sneezed for forty minutes until its ribcage cracked. Gah, the three months of prison I served for that almost broke my marriage! Would you like to try?”

  “No!” Skye shouted, stepping back hurriedly. “I have an amnesia curse, but before you do anything, tell me what you know about mental curses.”

  “Not much, I’m afraid. It’s out of my pay range,” Pairi admitted. “But I can try; I’m a fast learner after all. Of course, your sanity, and life are not guaranteed.”

  “I’ll pass,” Skye backed away, wondering why all the birds in this house were so birdbrained.

  “How about a beard then?” Pairi offered. “Though I can’t promise the hair will grow on the outside of your face.”

  “Pairi, thank you very much, please go,” Luccello said, shooing Pairi away with a light napkin. He turned and did the same to Skye. “It’s high time you leave now, Adamian. Bye-bye, it was nice meeting you.”

  “LUUU-CCEL-LOOOO!” a voice called from afar.

  Rico flew over the forest, his body three times its original size, clutching a tree trunk in his talons. Dangling from the tree was the tortoise-bear. “I couldn’t find Pairi, so I brought the master!”

  “God, no,” Luccello muttered, his light blanket winking out. “Rico, you fool!”

  Rico set the tree down gently and helped the tortoise-bear to stand. Luccello rushed to assist as well, conjuring a glove of light to pass the creature the wooden staff strapped onto his back.

  Skye stared, struggling to comprehend what he was seeing. The creature yawned wide and long, so long Skye suspected it had fallen asleep mid-yawn. When he finally closed his enormous jaw, he forcefully blinked a few tears from his milky eyes, making the act seem somehow exhausting.

  “I had… the strangest… of dreams,” said Master Ku.

  ?????Days until Green Eve: 20?????