One thousand and twenty-five people had died in all. This, the people of the Grem knew, after waiting night after night for another of their own to perish. The last ceremony took place on a warm morning, when relatives and sympathisers gathered in Hillbrook’s Death Valley to pay their final respects to the dead. It was a shame that Hamis had become so accustomed to funeral rites.

  Among the dead this time was a boy Hamis had not thought of since his trip to San Grem. He was the big-bellied young marker he had faced during the Battle of the Rams. Olande reminded Hamis of his name: Susu. They had found his body floating on the sea’s surface after he’d gone out for an evening swim. No one had seen him die.

  Susu wasn’t the only one Hamis had come to recognise. Asmalu’s youngest daughter lay on the pyre, cold and stiff. She was Princess Nalu’s little sister—the girl who had reminded Hamis so much of Isse on the day he’d joined the island for a banquet.

  He couldn’t look directly at the royals. Nalu pressed to make eye contact with him, but her eyes were so red and her skin so pale that her presence haunted him. She had covered her hair with a black scarf and wore a black dress to match—the only one on the island. Nalu seemed to be blaming him for the death of her sister. Somehow, it felt as if it were his fault the child had died. If only he had been there to stop it from happening. What was the use of power if he was never there to protect those who needed him most?

  His aunties noticed Hamis clutching his chest. They were bound to reprimand him again. Anytime they saw him in pain, they would tell him to “find his heart.” He was already sick of hearing it.

  “There will be no feasts from now on,” Raika announced to the gathering. “The dead do not eat, and we as a people have died.”

  He stood where Asmalu had stood. On Raika’s right-hand side were his nephews, the oldest of whom Hamis recognised as Dasu—the maniac who had tried to kill him. Nalu, his niece, stood to his left, along with his new wives, who had been his in-laws just a few weeks ago.

  “A day is coming when the dead will rise from the earth and devour the flesh of the living! On that day, the sun will cease to rise! That day is coming soon. Keep your eyes and ears open, my brothers, my kin!”

  “Look at the size of these eggs!” Eden showed off her collection in the front yard. Hamis lay on his back, panting, too tired to speak. Eden’s insatiable appetite for an Origon’s egg had sent them on a gruelling hike through the high mountains and into the deepest caves until they had found what they were looking for. An Origon was no ordinary bird—it flew so high that it could spend its entire life without ever touching the ground. Few people even knew of its existence.

  Boiling the egg would do no good. She cracked it against her frying pan, and it sizzled. “This reminds me of the time we got a distress call from the Henrikian outpost near Ossen Grem,” she said, tossing the pan. “A leviathan had broken through the Ossenrath boundary, terrorising the waters. Its scales vaporised anything they touched. I think the Living World didn’t know how to handle such a creature in our reality. Anyway, we cut it in half, split the meat, and dared each other to try it.” She snorted, shaking her head.

  “You and who?” asked Hamis, green with disbelief.

  “Jac,” she said. “Who else could split a leviathan in half?”

  Eden rarely mentioned her missions on the Grem Islands, and when she did, she’d gloss over the parts Hamis actually wanted to hear. What did she mean they fought a reality-bending snake and won?

  “Take that basket and go to the backyard to pluck me some peppers.”

  When he returned, she asked him to grind them. She placed a smooth stone in his hand and pointed to a slab at the corner of their house. He ducked under the drying line and carried the slab to the cooking spot.

  “Take the knife and chop the onions.”

  Hamis’ nose stung with every slice. He watched the Hill Boys strolling past their home with watery eyes. “Ma Eden,” they called one after the other.

  “Where are you all off to?” Eden asked.

  “We found a minefield in Pa’s meadow,” one said, grinning. “We went to clear it.”

  “Be careful out there,” she said, confirming to Hamis that it wasn’t the first time.

  “Can Hamis come?” another asked.

  “No, sorry,” Hamis said before his mother could refuse. “I’m not feeling too well.”

  They sniggered as they ran off.

  “I didn’t know the army planted minefields here.”

  “They’re not actual minefields,” she said. “Sometimes, dead spells ignite.”

  Eden spoke as if her words were paid for with gold. It was Hamis’ own fault for expecting more from his mom again and again.

  “Do you know the best thing about soup, Hamis?” she asked, stirring her pot with a ladle. “There are no fixed ingredients. No matter where you are, there’s always something you can use to make a good soup.”

  After having his fill at the feasts in the palace, eating alone with his mom today felt a bit boring. Too bad Raika had cancelled them.

  “Hamis?” asked Eden, once he had stopped eating.

  “Raika,” said Hamis. “He unsettles me, that’s all.”

  “He shouldn’t. When he attacks Henrikia and loses, he gets a good humbling. If he wins, Henrikia gets what they deserve.”

  “Is there any chance Commander Grieves left his phone behind at the outpost?” Hamis asked.

  “Why?” she asked. “Are you worried about your friends in Henrikia?”

  “I won’t lie and say I’m not, but I also understand that you don’t want me there. I just wanted to call them to see if they’re okay.”

  Her response was muffled by an explosion from Pa’s meadow. Screams blended with the distant rumbling—screams of Hill Boys having fun without Hamis. He stood up, nearly knocking over his mom’s pot, and walked to the front yard, cupping his hand over his brow.

  Chunks of earth shot upward, carrying a tumbling group of boys. They flailed their arms as though they were birds, rising higher with every bounce. A second explosion shook Hamis off his feet. Quick to recover, he gaped in wonder as another set of boys shot into the sky like fireworks, surrounded by heaps of debris.

  He begged his mom with his eyes. She was not pleased, but he had been on his best behaviour for a long time and had helped around the house. She had to let him go.

  “Get into trouble, and I’ll bury you wherever I find you,” she warned before he took off, racing to catch up with the Hill Boys in Pa’s meadow.

  What a mess. It looked as if a dirt-eating giant had found its way to the plains, using a massive spoon to scoop up chunks of earth. But this giant was a sloppy eater—rocks and dirt alike splintered back down to the ground. A lump of blue essence formed a bump in the soil ahead. Two boys from opposite ends raced toward it. They jumped at the same time, stomping on the bump.

  BOOOOOOOOOOOM! The shock thrust them high into the air. They cheered as they joined the other boys in the sky. The more skilled one spun midair, planted his feet on a passing boulder, and catapulted himself even higher. Up, up, up among the highest rocks lounged the best of the best.

  Another lump formed, glowing bright blue beneath the crust. One boy lingered nearby, too scared to stomp. He shut his eyes and lifted his foot.

  “Wait for me!” yelled Hamis, sprinting with a laugh. With a stomp and a boom, he latched onto the boy, cheering him upward into the heavens.

  The wind roared mightily, scraping the skin from his face and drying the gums of his bared teeth. Hamis let go of his partner, bolting from one rock to another. He shot up through the clouds, splintering them as he ascended. Momentum slowed, and he drifted heads and feet above the pink clouds, taking a moment to catch his breath. It was a shame how much of the living world remained hidden.

  Sky Grem was the nickname of the largest rock floating above the islands. It measured about one plot down and across. Like the other castle rocks, it was dark and cold, with no sign of decay despite the crusted bird droppings on its surface.

  On Sky Grem, all the Hill Boys gathered that day, going wherever the massive stone would carry them. A shepherd guided his flock through the reeds. In another part of Hillbrook, they passed farmers planting seeds. Then came the pyres, set up in circles.

  The boys began a game, pointing out objects they thought Hamis could lift by marking.

  “I bet he can lift Olande’s hut,” one said.

  “I bet he can move the palace,” said another.

  “I bet he can move the island if he tried.” A laugh followed.

  “I bet he can move the moon!” It was meant as a joke, but when the laughter died, many seemed to consider it seriously.

  “The Lady Sorel moved the sun,” one of the older boys said, rising to his feet. “We all saw it. Midday turned to dawn.”

  Hamis’s dry lips rubbed together. It was confirmation enough for them to tell the story.

  “Our elders lost their heads. Spooked—all of them,” the boy went on. “They said they’d seen this before. Lots of us won’t make it out of sleep.”

  Everyone turned to the boy now, listening as if they had not been there themselves. “We didn’t believe them. It sounded like something our Mas would say to scare us, you know. Besides, the priest told us it was nothing. Just a sign from Rheina that he had heard our prayers. I lost everyone on the first day—my mother, father, two brothers after me.”

  The boy’s eyes had gone sore. He did not rub them or blink away the blur in his vision. “Hamis, you’re strong. Stronger than anyone I’ve ever met. Stronger than Ma Eden even.” There was a protest from some, but the boy swore his life on it that Hamis was stronger than his mother. Returning to his point, he formed fists, bowed his head, and dropped to his knees. “When Raika calls upon his warriors, lend us your strength so we may avenge our families.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “Will you fight for us, Hamis?” the boys asked, rising one after another. Hamis stood, unsure what to make of it. So many broken hearts, desperate faces, and angry spirits pressed on him to answer.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You have no idea who you’re up against.”

  The Hill Boys fell silent. Like Bole, their passion for war lacked the necessary context. “The Lady of the Sun, the one who cast the spell, you don’t know her like I do. It’s not her power that makes her dangerous. It’s how ruthless she is. You think you had it bad when she cast Sovi, but I know a people who had it worse. Much worse.”

  Hamis took a deep breath. “I saw the sun fall from the heavens and scorch the earth. Everything on an island just like yours was obliterated in an instant—mountains, buildings, people, gone.”

  The older-looking boy, Ganda, whom Hamis had heard about from a friend, was not fazed. “Raika and Asmalu fought the mighty Jacqolin and lived. Our chief is not afraid of your Lady.”

  “What’s the point anyway?” asked Hamis. Demettle had filled him in on a lot of things before his departure. “The person you’re after is in jail. She’s not a threat anymore.”

  “You don’t understand,” said Ganda. “When Raika strikes, he won’t go for the Lady alone. He will take the sun’s mother and sister and daughters. That is the only way we can be safe.”

  “He won’t win,” said Hamis. “It’s impossible. Each of them is incredibly powerful. You can’t get past the first without losing half the Grem.”

  “That is a lie,” Ganda rebutted. “I worked in the barracks. The Yellows say the Lady’s daughter is weak and powerless.”

  “And I’m telling you she’s dangerously strong,” Hamis shot back, raising his voice. “Avoid Ashamel at all costs if you ever come across her.”

  Hamis’s heart pounded. He hoped no one had noticed. To his fortune, most of them were haunted by the prospect of one Sorel being able to take down half the Grem. If they would listen to him a little longer, he might be able to stamp out the hunger for revenge.

  A stream of powerful ascension tickled the bridge of his nose. It did not belong to anyone on Sky Grem. He peered down to see the owner hovering over the enchanted boulders—the same ones he had lifted to complete his rite. At first he had assumed the magic came from the rocks, but the strength of the aura shifted, compounding in potency.

  “Wow,” one of the boys breathed, pointing to a spot in the grass. Hamis followed the direction and blinked twice at what he saw.

  Someone had stacked five boulders on top of each other and was hovering them over a hole in the ground. The timelines holding up the boulders matched the girth of Eden’s lines. But his mother was not responsible for this—of that he was sure. He had to find out who it was.

  “It’s Dasu,” said Ganda, pressing a hand to Hamis’s chest just as he was about to fall off the flying rock. “He’s been at it for days now.”

  “Days?” Hamis said. “You can’t be serious.”

  “You should probably leave him alone.”

  Hamis jumped off the rock anyway, floating down into the grass. A soft hum issued from the hovering boulders. He whistled as he crouched beneath them, looking around for Dasu.

  The chief’s son was stuck in the hole below—sitting on the ground with his legs crossed, head bowed and arms folded. “What are you doing down there?” Hamis yelled. “Do you want to die?”

  “Leave me alone,” said Dasu.

  “The rocks could crush you any minute now. You really shouldn’t be putting yourself in situations like this.”

  “What do you want?” Dasu shot back.

  “Nothing, nothing,” Hamis said. “You look like you need someone to talk to.”

  Dasu’s answer took a long time coming. “I tried to kill you,” he said finally. “I hated you so much that I tried to kill you. You shouldn’t speak to me.”

  Hamis rose when it was clear Dasu was done speaking. He said, “I’m not saying we should be friends. But you don’t have to kill yourself to earn my forgiveness.”

  “You have more to offer the world than I do,” said Dasu. “Things will be better this way.”

  Hamis sat down and picked at the grass. Who would’ve thought Dasu was in this much pain? “I sent Olande flying across the island. My mother pulled him out of the Ossen Sea in time—she saved him. He would have died if she hadn’t.”

  “It’s hardly the same thing.”

  “I’m no better than you. We both lost our hearts, and if we don’t do something about it, we’ll let the people we love down.”

  “Leave me alone,” said Dasu.

  Eden had been keeping a tight leash on Hamis ever since his trip to San Grem. The leash grew even tighter at night. She had him sitting on their living room floor as her sewing apprentice. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded—this was oddly the only activity where she allowed him to rely on his marking ability.

  He held a needle upright, peeping through its eye. Hamis’s hand shivered as he struggled to thread it. “Straighten the tip of the thread,” Eden instructed.

  “I’m trying,” Hamis insisted. Whenever he tried to grapple the thread, he ended up freezing his own hand in time as well.

  “What fragments are you using?” his mother asked.

  “Seconds, obviously.”

  “Go further down,” said Eden.

  But that was impossible. How was he supposed to manipulate strings of time in microseconds? He split the seconds timelines further, making them thinner. The bones in his fingers ached. Grunting, he sent out a pulse—and the needle shattered. Eden held up a hand, shielding her face from the flying shards. She was unimpressed.

  “You’re only as useful as a cannon,” she said. “Sometimes, you need to be a dart.”

  There was a knock on the door. She rose from the ground and shot a glance toward his room. He opened his mouth, but she silenced him with a gesture. Eden kept her hand steady, pointing toward Hamis’ room. He picked up his sewing kit and made his way there.

  When his mother opened the front door, he was already in the narrow hallway, back pressed against the wall, ready to act if she needed him. No one would die on his watch. Not this time. His palms tingled with electricity. Rubbing them on his pants didn’t help. What was happening to him? His chest hurt. He couldn’t breathe. Gravity seemed to sink him further down. Here he was, sitting on the floor with his knees raised and head buried. Why couldn’t he be there when she needed him most?

  “What brings you to my home, Isone?” said Eden, leading the way back to the living room. Only one other pair of footsteps followed.

  “Why don’t you address me as ‘Renna,’ like you do your Henrikian masters?” the visitor said. Hamis wasn’t sure who it was supposed to be. He had met so many people over the past few weeks. From the fake Henrikian accent, he assumed it was someone who wanted respect. He soon figured it out from the next words.

  “I wanted to thank you in person for saving me that day,” Isone said. “I would not have survived Raika’s wrath had you not lied about Asmalu’s death.”

  Isone had been Asmalu’s first wife — the lean white-haired one Raika had pinned to the wall that night. She was also Nalu’s mother. Hamis sneaked a look and found her perched on their sofa in a long white dress, a silk scarf wrapped over her head. He could still see strands of white hair peeking out.

  Wait — what had she just said? Had she really admitted to killing the chief? Eden was far too quiet for Hamis’s liking.

  “When my sisters told me your husband was dead from poison, I did not know you were the one who had done it,” Eden said.

  “Would you have ousted me, then?” Isone asked.

  After a dreadful pause, Eden said, “No. I kept the circumstances of his death in the name of peace. Do not for a moment assume we are allies.”

  A soft thud came from the living room. Hamis peered again to find a large pouch sitting on the table. “Five hundred silvers. That’s enough to live off for the rest of your life. I know you’re a simple woman with simple needs. Whether you consider me an ally or not, your actions have served me well. I would ask that you serve me again.”

  With every passing second of silence, the confidence on Isone’s face faded. She cleared her throat and gestured at the money on the table.

  “Why?” Eden asked.

  “Raika needs all the support he can get, even from those he does not consider useful. I want to help him defeat the sun, and if that means killing his own brother and recruiting his former enemies, so be it.”

  “You’re woefully na?ve if you think you have what it takes to take down the Sorels. Asmalu was a smart man. He stopped resisting when he knew our forces were too much for him. He agreed to terms your people would consider humiliating, but at least you lived. And you kill him as your show of gratitude — all in the name of pride.”

  “And why shouldn’t we be proud?” Isone shot back. “Why should we bow our heads and succumb to bullies? We are tired of being treated like animals. We will show your people that the Grem is no longer to be trifled with.”

  “Anger, courage, determination; none of that matters in war, Isone,” Eden said. “Power is the only language Henrikia understands.”

  “I have been among the elders across the islands far longer than you can imagine. We don’t need you for anything other than assurance. If you decide not to fight for us, we will move on and fight for ourselves. Just know that one day you will need us, and we will not be there for you.”

  “You will not be there for me because your bodies will be at the bottom of the Ossen Sea.”

  “Prop the Sorels up as much as you want, but I know the truth. Mariel Sorel, in all her benevolence, has doomed her people by bringing Demettle here. We know the strength and size of Henrikia’s army now. We know Schemel Sorel is imprisoned and powerless, and that Jacqolin is infected with a curse he cannot awaken from.”

  The presence in the room shifted. Hamis felt it for just a moment. For all Eden’s talk of having no love left for Henrikia, it didn’t seem to be the whole truth. Isone was getting to her.

  “The Sorels are at their weakest,” Isone said. “We would not find a better opportunity to strike than now.”

  “I won’t do it,” muttered Eden.

  “’I won’t do it’. It only you had said those words before you raided Wes Grem and choked my brothers with their own tongues.” Hamis covered his hands over his mouth, forcing himself silent. “Did you think about stopping your men when they ground the fingers of children with stones?”

  The silence in the room started to decay. “I did,” said Eden.

  “Then why didn’t you stop them?”

  “Because if it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else. I fought for Henrikia because I knew they would win. I won’t fight for you, because I know you would lose.”

  Eden was not a good person. For those unsure of who she really was, some might call her a coward — like Regilon, Tenrad, and all the other Gaverians who fought on the wrong side of the Great Oppression.

  Hamis knew all this as fact but did not take it to heart. She was still his mother. He kept the difficult questions to himself, put on a smile, and followed her to their farmland the next morning.

  Taking one breath at a time, they poured spirith along a marked path, setting fire to the wild bushes. The spreading smoke, unforgiving sun, and stagnant wind took their toll on stamina by midday. When the farmland was blackened, they lodged beneath a nearby tree to rest.

  Eden wore a sleeveless shirt, a pair of dirty boots, and baggy trousers. Hamis didn’t mean to stare, but her arms weren’t as lean as he had assumed—they were cut. She’d gained muscle since coming to the Grem.

  Up along a rocky path stood an abandoned school building project. Wild berries had sprouted through the cracked pavement, attracting all kinds of animals, chief among them monkeys.

  “Do you see the middle of the courtyard?” she asked, pointing with her machete. “That lanky coconut tree with fruit at its neck? Climb up and knock some down.”

  Easy. He ran up the side of the tree, stretching his stride with each step. He reached the halfway point and gagged. He was stuck. Hamis squinted, turning to see thick bands of timelines latched to his back. His mom smirked, waving at him. He should have known.

  Hugging the tree, he kicked his feet against the trunk and shifted the weight of three elephants tied to his back. An hour and a half later, he was back on the ground with one coconut stuck to his head. He gulped it down and burped the loudest in all of the Grem. Eden hacked at another with her machete, prying it open and gulping down the coconut water in one go.

  “Mum.”

  “Hm?”

  “Since the Yellows aren’t coming back, can we visit their outpost?”

  “Why would we do that?”

  “I thought… maybe Commissioner Grieves left his phone behind.” His fingers trembled as he gripped his coconut. “I want to call Ashey. I want to know if she’s okay.”

  Eden dropped her chin as if she had lost something among the shrubs. She pursed her lips, taking her time to sit beside him. They were almost the same height now. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, it was hard to tell who was older.

  “I kept some of Isse’s ashes with me,” she said. “Do you still want to spread them on the other islands?”

  He didn’t ask why she had changed her mind. “I do,” he said, careful not to show too much excitement.

  One early morning, Eden stood beside Hamis at the front of their house. He had a traveller’s bag strapped to his back and two pouches tied to his belt.

  “One for the tree on Nere Grem, the other for the tree on Wes Grem. None for Ossen Grem. Do not go there,” she said.

  She put a firm hand on Hamis’s chin and gazed into his eyes like she had never seen them before.

  “When the chief asks you for a favour and you think it will put your life at risk—”

  “I’m not going to do it,” finished Hamis.

  “Olande, thank you again for doing this.”

  “Anything for you, Renna.” Olande struck a salute, adjusting the straps on his own bag.

  They had a boat ready by the waterside. Olande and Hamis decided to leave early for two reasons. First, so Eden wouldn’t change her mind about Hamis leaving again. Second, because Kade would still be asleep — they couldn’t risk bringing him along if the journey turned dangerous.

  Dropping their bags into the boat, they pushed it onto the sea together. Olande passed a comment about Hamis not using his powers for everything now.

  As they set out, a figure appeared on the hilltop.

  “Kade?” Olande asked, but Hamis wasn’t sure. The presence was too similar to Asmalu’s. He stood up, shielding his eyes from the rising sun.

  “Dasu,” said Hamis. The prince was holding his own traveller’s bag.

  He approached them and stood on the shore, watching Hamis.

  “I’m going with you,” he said. Olande was too afraid to say no and expressed it with his eyes. Hamis grinned and invited him in.

  Alone on the glassy sea, their boat drifted toward Nere Grem.