Nightfall

[36, Before]

(My first distinct flashback happened on my forty-first birthday. Two weeks before my heart gave out. I was lying in bed on a Sunday morning. My head spun. On and off my chest ached. A dozen empty bottles of gin were waiting to be picked up off the floor.)

(The thoughts came in like a brewing thunderstorm, slow but noticeable. And then, all of a sudden, I was back five years to my first day at my final job.)

(O' The excitement I felt.)

(As my new manager droned away, I took it all in. A nice cubicle. Two computer screens. Lines of well-dressed colleagues typing away, headsets strapped to their head. I saw opportunity in the bullpen. Opportunity to turn it all around.)

(My last shot at life. Or so I thought.)

(Funny to think about, now...)

(Well, I don't blame myself. When your teenage years are over, trying something new always feels like your last shot.)

(The world really can be a hopeless place.)

.

.

.

We travelled through the forest for another hour after night fell.

Once deep inside, and content that we weren't followed, Ada directed us off the path into an alcove. The lantern provided scant light. Thick roots pierced the forest floor and, after a short time traversing the terrain, the horses couldn't continue. We made camp using tools from the carriage storage.

"Should I look for wood?" I asked.

"No campfire," Ada said. She handed me a ration pack.

When unwrapped, the sight of it made my stomach turn.

It was a nutrient-dense slab and it tasted like cat-food smelled. It's all we'd eaten since we left Helmer's keep. We drew the lantern down from the carriage and took a seat by the wheels. The forest around was rather dense and the encroaching shadows made me shiver. In the dark of the woods, I spotted a tree trunk that looked eerily like a smiling weathered face.

You're not a child, I thought. Get a grip.

"These are made from... cattleplant, right?" I said, distracting myself. I tore a chunk out of the slab. It took all I had to force myself to swallow.

"Mhm," Ada murmured, taking a bit of her own nutrient slab. "And only the Constellations know what else. Cattleplant, though versatile, isn't enough to make this."

I took another bite, wincing.

"Cattleplant," she continued. "Can grow in nearly any condition and needs only a minimal amount of water. Each plant grows to about knee height and produces enough fruit to feed a family for a week. Not very tasty, but nutritious."

"So, why aren't there fields of the stuff if it's so easy to grow? Especially if the country is starving."

Ada finished half her ration, placed the slab back in the cloth wrap, and wrapped it up.

"Because your father, lord Helmer, is the only person that knows the Flow Sigil in which it needs to grow. And, he's a fervent denier of the Swarm's existence. This means he won't share the practice with anyone."

My jaw clenched. Suddenly, this world was starting to look a lot more reminiscent of home. I took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

"What's a flow sigil?" I asked. "I remember that man you were with mentioning something called flow clarifying pills. I assumed that was some kind of herbal medication, but…"

Ada shook her head. "No. Flow clarifying pills are an extremely rare tool that allows someone to purify their body. One is worth a fortune. A container is enough to buy a village."

My heart was racing. Flow, I thought. Is it some kind of magic? After four decades, one death and one rebirth will I be able to use magic?

Tentatively, I asked: "What's flow?"

Ada, for the first time since we met, smiled slightly. "Flow… Flow is, hmm... I could go on and make a long-winded explanation, but I'll keep it simple: Flow is an energy that exists around us at all times. Invisible, but there. By writing sigils in the language of the world, you can draw that energy into yourself, objects, and even plants. Most of the time it's temporary. Drawing too much flow, or using it for too long, will kill you. Too much flow into an object will cause it to shatter. Writing the incorrect sigil for a plant will cause it to never flourish. Here, let me show you something."

Ada stepped up and over to the carriage's storage. My venturing gaze crossed the blackened crevices of the woods, tracing faint outlines of shrubbery from the thick shadows.

Suddenly, the hairs on my neck stood on end. Bile rose to my throat. My vision began to tunnel.

"See this here," Ada said, taking a black baton from the boot of the carriage. The same one Drystan and the other guards wore at their waist. "This is a channeling rod. When I focus, the runes on it will igni-"

"Ada," I said, voice trembling. "I don't think we're alone."

The weathered, smiling face in the trunk of the tree was gone.

Ada went silent behind me. Without a sound, she knelt down and put out the lantern. Her eyes remained fixed on the line of bush in front. Darkness embraced us.

And then there was silence. Only the light swaying of the trees and the occasional rustle of leaves. Not a creature scurried, no birds sung. I held my breath, too scared to even breathe.

The sound of whispering gradually built in the darkness.

"Stay low," Ada growled. "We've got company."

Leaves crunched underfoot as a figure emerged from the darkness. My mind raced with fear. A young girl clutching a blade to her chest stepped towards us, whimpering. Her chestnut-brown hair ran in ringlets down over her gaunt, sunken cheeks. Tears trickled ceaselessly from wide, fearful eyes.

Her dress, torn at the skirt, hung loosely from her starved frame.

"I-I don't wanna," she whimpered over and over as she stepped closer and closer.

"Don't come any closer!" Ada barked, raising her baton into the air.

The little girl shook her head and started bawling. She raised the knife with shaky arms and stepped forward.

Around us, the bushes rustled with activity. Hushed undertones carried through the darkness. Violent whispers.

"I told you!" Ada screamed. "Don't come any closer."

I glanced up at her just for a moment. Ada's face was painted in fear. Pure, agonising fear. I bit down hard on my tongue and tasted blood.

This is a nightmare, I thought. It's time for me to wake up from this hellish dream.

The little girl screamed at the top of her lungs and charged, knife extended. Things seemed to go in slow motion. Every sense heightened.

A 'click' filled the air. My eyes widened. The little girl's face contorted into pure terror.

The baton, once plain, was now adorned in a brightly glowing script. With tears streaming down her face, Ada swung the baton with an almighty roar. Her body moved like a flicker. Too fast, much too fast, for a human.

Flow, I realised. This was flow.

The baton connected and the little girl became no more than a red mist. The sound came next. Like the cracking of a whip.

My mind reeled. I reached out to where the girl was just a second ago.

Why, I thought. What happened to her? She… She was just here. That little girl. She looked so scared. I bet she was hungry, she looked hungry.

I pushed myself to standing, wobbling slightly.

I-I have to find her. She… she must have gone back into the forest. Doesn't she know it's dangerous out there?

"Get back, Kay!" Ada screamed.

"Sh-she has a channeling rod!" A man's voice sounded from the forest. "G-get her! We wouldn't need to worry about getting food with that!"

Then, out of the darkness, dozens of starved, screaming people poured out. Ada let out one last great cry of anguish and charged.