1 ONE

There was only one place where the prying eyes of the city could see a circus freak for free of admission. An insignificant little park, the only patch of green in the large neighborhood.

Judging eyes drifted in the freak's direction, mouths whispered to their lovers, and they pulled their children closer like she would attack them. A human turned monster in their gaze, she ignored them. Just from the way they stared, she could hear their thoughts.

What happened to her?

What a freak. She should be locked up.

That poor girl. I wonder if it was a blessing or a curse.

Of course, she couldn't see their mind, nor could she mellow their thoughts as she could in her imagination. She looked different, but it was only their society's beauty standards that made her stand out so much.

She tried to hide her dark gray hair by stepping into the shadow of a tree. She was a silver streak in a sea of brown. A screaming noble couldn't have gotten more attention. Her heartbeat quickened under their stare, pulsing at such a volume in her ears that made it impossible to ignore it.

Morita tried not to look back at them. Their whispers would only grow louder.

Sometimes, she would stare back, daring them to meet her freaky tawny eyes. Most dropped their eyes in shame, but a few would meet her gaze. Fewer still, that saw something beyond the abnormalities.

And one of them was the target of her annoyance. He was late.

Where is he?

When she raised her head to search the park grounds, the rim of the setting sun complimented her golden irises. The underside of the sun grazed the shimmering horizon like an orange leaf gently brushing the ground. Budding trees and the runes atop churches cast shadows for migrating birds. Brilliant light streamed through the thin ash in the air. Another reason why she wished she had taken her cap.

The foreigners—usually the Aserish—that visited this time of the year were always pleasantly surprised by how sunny and windy Melbaysín was.

Winds blew at twenty kilometers per hour on average over the mostly flat peninsula. Djinhelm, its capital and the largest hub of oceanic trade, was even worse. From the west, powerful gusts of sea breeze created small dust storms that shot through the narrow streets.

Morita spotted two boys running toward her, paying no attention to their surroundings. She stepped out of the way, and they skidded to a halt. Their eyes widened and their mouths opened.

She straightened up for intimidation and glared at them. For a second, she worried that they would make a scene, but they scrambled away and continued their game, though she noticed that they stayed away from her.

Their youth reminded her of the market square that used to be here. Instead of the delicious smell of fresh bread and fruits of her childhood, all she could catch now was the slight scent of ash and sea breeze.

"You all right?" said a voice, so close that if it hadn't brought memories of comfort—in that exact tone with the same words—she might have stiffened with alarm. She glanced up to see Falor watching her, arms crossed over his chest.

He was more than a head taller than her and coupled with a good taste for fashion, he was quite the sight. The long tails on his dark red tailcoat, emphasized by the short front, only made him look taller. In Morita's opinion, he would've caught even more eyes if he had a cane and wore a hat.

She noticed that the red of Falor's hair and eyes were almost the same color as the red of the sunset. Like the Gods hadn't been bothered to change the shade of red before they painted the world.

Like her, he was a freak. Perhaps that was what drew them together in the first place. She tried to focus her gaze on something in the park when he looked at her. Not because she had unsaid feelings but rather, the warm orange intensity was like a hand around her lungs, taking her breath.

"They didn't get near me." She knew that wasn't what he had meant. "What is it that you wanted to tell me?"

Falor's gaze hesitated on her for a second before he said, "I heard that Severath is dueling tomorrow."

She sighed. "If I had a delfou for every time—"

"Corvid is his opponent," he said, grinning, like that would grab her attention.

And it did.

She shivered despite the warm weather. A notorious vigilante, Corvid hunted anyone with a bad influence on the city. That included criminals, merchants, nobles, and the handful of men that thought they could compare to him.

Due to his merciless methods, which Falor would savor in the newspapers the mornings after, he had become a tale in their city. His reputation spread a long way out of Djinhelm, and there was nothing he didn't know when it involved his city of djinn and hellions.

"But Corvid always kills his targets. Duels don't end in death," she said.

"No, Corvid made a deal with Severath. If he can win, his life will be spared. A bit less romantic than our classmates' romance novels."

"The ones they read, or the ones they write?" She smiled and then glanced over at him. "I assume there's a reason for coming all the way here to tell me."

"Do I have to have a reason to see a friend?"

"Of course."

"Well, I wanted to tell you personally."

"Because you want me to care."

Falor flashed her a dazzling smile. "No, because you're coming with me. Tomorrow at three at the Jourugent."

She raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think I want to go?"

"Because Alorza, Volorial, and I are going," he said like the four of them were a package. But they were, unfortunately for her.

Morita grew serious again. Why do they always have to come with us? Falor and I hardly go anywhere without them now. Just let us have one day together, it's been so long, she prayed, not sure to who—or what—since she didn't believe in any religion.

Her father didn't believe in Deism like most Melbands. It was a common idea among all four religions that two godly brothers existed somewhere, watching the worlds while balancing the other.

Deists believed that the God Brothers created the world, but that the holy deities, lesser beings made by the God Brothers, created Verotz. The paradise of immortals. They believed if they worshipped the deities in their life they could go to Verotz when they died.

Of course, there was no proof of deities or God Brothers. But even if Deists were right, Morita wasn't going to paradise.

Religion was just a concept to her. She heard about it, that it existed, but she could be no more sure of it than of the nation of Asere. Except Aserish toured Djinhelm every year and no deities had shown themselves. In another nation, atheism was a crime punishable by death.

Morita wondered out loud, "I wonder where we go if we're don't believe in deities."

Falor raised an eyebrow. "Ah. That sounds like a question for Alorza. Speaking of, we're meeting up at the Jourugent."

Morita's feeble protests fell on deaf ears, so she trailed after him. They both knew she'd go anywhere with him no matter what.

That was how it always was. Falor was her torch in the dark. While it sometimes burned to be with him, he was the little spark of adventure in her dull life.

They made their way to the heart of Djinhelm, where the rich and corrupted lived. Where the largest market square thrived and the Jourugent stood. It was a large wooden stage that was formerly used as a public execution site. Now, the Jourugent was a stage for public attractions and announcements.

And the occasional duel as well.

Surrounding the Jourugent were statues of various deities. As Morita and Falor climbed the stage, she could almost feel their stone eyes drilling into the back of her head. She found it ironic that the place where executioners turned ideas into bloody paintings had the statues of the sacred deities.

One last prayer to a deity of their choosing before certain death.

It would be no different tomorrow. Only Severath was the man on with the rope around his neck, and Corvid was the most feared executioner in the nation.

The image fitted them well. Severath should be executed according to the law anyway. His cheating in duels was a gate to his other crimes. Drugging, incapacitating, and bribing his opponents. There were also multiple news articles of sexual assault, violence, and gambling.

Morita and Falor sat on the edge of the stage, their legs dangling off. At night, this area of Djinhelm turned into a playground for teenagers sneaking out and forbidden couples. So there was no fear of being discovered by anyone of concern, yet the darkness in the alleys sent shivers down her spine.

Her friend misread it and moved closer. Their shoulders brushed, and she could feel his heat under the clothes. It brought a blush to her cheeks. If she moved any closer, she could snag a delfou off him, the main currency in Melbaysín. It wouldn't be enough to buy anything other than her cheeky smile and a playful scolding from him.

"What are you thinking about?" he whispered.

"Tomorrow."

"Me too. I've always wanted to see Corvid."

Neither of them had seen him before. Well, no one really had. He always wore a black crow mask. The only remarkable features left were his hair, the color of death, and his eyes, so sharp he supposedly could see how pure a Melband's soul was.

Everything Falor had told her over the past few years built an image of a powerful monster more creature than human. No human could survive a fall from the top of the Carthinal Cathedral; a fall he knew he was going to survive. She had never told Falor about it because he would agree, except in a different way.

Falor wasn't religious either but she knew a small part of him wondered if Corvid was a deity or a God Brother, which was just absurd. But maybe he was right. Not all deities were good after all, which made the religion all the more unappealing to her.

She laid down, and she noticed that the sky was darkening too fast. It had been the color of Falor's eyes, and now it was a mahogany; nature's warning sign telling her to start heading home. Morita gnawed her lip in worry, remembering that she had forgotten to tell her father where she was.

Male shouts brought her to a sitting position again. Two boys were walking toward the Jourugent. One of them she wished she didn't recognize.

"Hey, Alorza. Volorial," she said, a hint of distaste at his name.

"Hello, Morita, it's been a while," said Alorza.

"I'm surprised you're interested in this duel."

"Well, all of Djinhelm is talking about it. Not much goes around here," he said. Morita scoffed under her breath. With Corvid, the king's disregard for the nation, and noble's competition to win his favor, she thought Djinhelm had plenty going on.

Falor said, "And it's all going to be right here." He patted the wood next to him.

Alorza analyzed the area. "Do you think there will be enough room for us? Everyone must want to see him. He's the only celebrity in Djinhelm."

"You just brushed Severath aside. He's been fighting much longer than Corvid has even existed. Even Corvid couldn't best him," Volorial said, twirling his overpriced black cane.

Falor's friend had a bigger mouth than his brain could comprehend. Everyone knew Severath hated being called old.

Volorial's good looks didn't help his ego, nor did his attitude. At school, he always dragged Falor away from her to play some cruel joke on the teachers with his equally as bad friends. Then after school, he would flirt with the young women coming home from work.

Looking down at them, Morita couldn't help but compare the completely opposite young men.

Alorza was shy and reserved. He wore a charming tailcoat the color of a blue jay's eggs, just a shade lighter than his hair—another freak in their circus. The suit cut was the same as his brother's—they were twins, after all—and only his cane and topper hat were uniquely his. His blue eyes were as innocent as his smiles, and his hair was always carefully done.

Volorial was loud, brash. He donned a devilish navy blue suit. A smirk was always found on his face, which made it look like he was laughing at some offensive joke. It bolded his normal blue eyes. Volorial wasn't a freak like the rest of them. His black hair was messed up like he had taken a roll with the strays on the streets. Yet another reason why Morita didn't understand why he attracted so many heated looks when someone who looked like a perfect gentleman—such as Alorza—was around.

She said, "Well, I think Corvid will win. He's Corvid. He's practically invincible." Morita didn't really believe that, but she liked to see Volorial red with anger.

Volorial snorted. "All you girls want to do is take a peek under the mask." Alorza shot him a glare and she glowered.

All you boys would crap your pants just to have him breathe in your direction.

They bickered among themselves. Morita watched them, her gaze darting up to the sky occasionally as if it could tell her the time.

"Do any of you know what Corvid's fighting with?" Alorza asked.

Falor said, "Severath usually uses a court sword. The rules say that Corvid has to bring one as well, but this is Godsdamn Corvid we're talking about. He might bring a broadsword or something."

Alorza suggested, "Perhaps a rapier, which is longer than a court sword. A broadsword isn't well-suited to dueling a court sword."

"I kind of just want a fair fight with court swords."

Volorial rolled his eyes. "Corvid thinks he's the best. I wouldn't be too surprised if he cheats and brings a flintlock. No one would argue with him. Especially since he'd be cheating to kill a cheater."

"So you do think he's a criminal," Morita said with a smirk.

"His record doesn't lie. That doesn't mean that I don't think he's the better one with a sword. But what do you know about fights and duels? You're a Godsdamn girl." He sneered, and she dug her nails into the Jourugent.

Keep it in check, Morita. This will not be the first time you act on your anger.

Alorza climbed onto the Jourugent and sat down, glaring at Volorial. "She probably knows more than you actually. I didn't see you the last time we talked about swords and duels. Too busy flirting with all the married women again?"

Volorial flushed and pressed his lips together angrily. He retorted at Alorza and Morita leaned over to Falor. "I need to go. It's getting dark. I don't want my father to start worrying about me."

He nodded and asked, "Do you want one of us to go with you?"

She shook her head. "I know my way."

"That's not—"

"I'll be fine."

She pushed herself off the Jourugent and walked past Volorial who ignored her. She entered an alley she knew turned onto a bigger street.

Most of the city by now was inside. Partly because it was dinner time, but mostly because of the rumor that anyone caught after the sunset would be snatched by Corvid for being out during curfew. Of course, she could care less about the rumors surrounding Corvid but Morita found herself taking a brisk pace.

She heard a rasp down the street and warily searched for the source.

"Help."

She spotted a man on the ground. He raised his head when he heard the gravel crunch under her boots. After Morita gave him a careful look-over, she approached him.

She frowned when she saw a quality tailcoat. What's someone like this doing out here?

Up close, she could see that the man also had gray hair. Not a dark dead color like her hair, but the shade of a cloud. Despite having gray hair, the man didn't look that much older than her. Perhaps mid-twenties. Faint gray hairs peppered his jawline. Gray eyes so light it was almost white. He looked at her with a strange familiarity. Morita could've even described his features as handsome if not for the eerie vibe he gave off.

"Please help me," he said, his eyes pleading her.

She crouched down next to him. "What happened?"

"Some Godsdamn dog attacked me and then ran off when I hit it."

Her eyes went to his leg. There was a large patch of red in his light gray suit. She started to stand. "I'll go get my friends."

She froze when his hand clutched the bottom of her dress. "Please, my house isn't far away. My wife is a nurse."

He let go, and she relaxed. "Maybe I should go get her."

He shook his head. "No. It's easier if I go there."

She pursed her lips. If you think that's what's best. She moved him up until he was standing on one leg holding her for support. He was, unsurprisingly, heavy. He breathed, "Thank you. What is your name?"

She chewed on her lip before saying, "M."

"Oh? It just so happens to be that my name is S."

"A small world."

"Yes..."

A cool current washed into the wide streets, and she shivered, a bad feeling filling her ears with a quickening heartbeat. But it was too late to do anything. They slowly trudged down the street.

She ran her eyes down S. "You don't look like you live here. I mean, you're dressed like a noble."

"I'm a wealthy man. You...You're still in school, no?"

"How could you tell?"

"No woman has the time nor the mind to still be out this late." He paused. "I'm also a fortune teller."

Morita's eyes gleamed. "Really?"

S chuckled. "Yes, I mainly entertain the nobles. They will believe anything I say."

"What can you tell about me?"

He looked at her. "I see in your future...sacrifice and the claws of a corvid." He bared his teeth. Warnings and instincts blared, and she fought to untangle herself from him. "I should save them the trouble and grab you here." She forced down the scream. His eyes, which were calm before, were wide and crazed.

He grabbed her wrist with a strong hand and moved for her neck. Terror filled her, and she thrashed against him. She punched and kicked, but he barely seemed to feel it. Her head dipped down, and she bit down on his hand as hard as she could. S grunted and let go of her wrist.

Morita gasped and clawed her way out of his grasp. Her body tensed to run, but he merely shook his hand like he was flicking water and regained his posture.

He sighed loudly like it was too much effort to chase her and stepped to the side of the street, colorless eyes glowing in the dark.

Morita watched him cautiously. His hands disappeared behind him, and then he was still. When she took a small step forward, he only smiled, though it was not a friendly one.

Without wasting another second, she raced down the street toward home. Her wrist throbbed in pace with her racing heart. Blood rushed hot as her feet pounded against the ground.

It crossed her mind that he was deliberately letting her go. Like he trusted in the future he saw. A future where they would meet again.