“I had been planning to spend my afternoon curled up by the fire with a good book and a cup of tea.” I picked a crumbling burnt-orange leaf out of my hair and tossed it to the ground. “Instead, I’m tramping through the woods on the hunt for an imaginary monster because you didn’t want to go on your own.”
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“It’s hopeless,” I moaned to the windowpane.
Rain trickled down outside, like the glass was sobbing sympathetically. A small comfort, but I didn’t really want company in my misery. What I needed was time and inspiration. The window could give neither.
I’d tried using it for inspiration already, but there’s usually a severe lack of windows in dungeon cells.
Wishes drifted past my balcony in a dreamy river of light. If only I could make more than a handful of them reality.
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as I looked down through the host of floating lanterns at the streets below. It was impossible to see even a scrap…
The other thieves whisper that I’m cursed. Dangerous, like all unknowns. They say I’m cold as ice. Heartless. They call me Sixth—a nickname I’d earned in my initiation into their gang—not the name my mother gave her son.
To them, I’m nothing more than the mask I’ve presented.
They might be right.
September 3rd. The first day of school. A prime opportunity for battle.
I clutch Elsie’s right arm and glare at Insecurity, who holds her left arm.
It’s another one of those days I wish Elsie could see us and our battles. Knowing how much power she has over us would help her defeat those lingering self-worth issues, which would deal Insecurity a crippling blow.
“Éclairs.”
“Angel food cake,” I counter, crossing my arms and staring my little sister down. “We haven’t had that in forever.”
“Well why don’t we just do both?” Sophie flips through Mom’s gigantic recipe book. “If we make them at the same time, it’ll be really quick.”
I contemplate that. She has a point.
If this last bird doesn’t reach my father, I don’t have any hope left.
I choke on a sob, cradling the raven. “Take my message to him. Please.”
Ever since that slip down the mountainside left me with a badly sprained leg, I knew this day would come. I just didn’t think it would…
“Surveillance to Headquarters, code red in Sector Five.”
I frown, tapping the holo-desk to activate the map. “The city square again? But we just—”
“Shh.” My boss, Josef, pushes his archaic spectacles farther up his nose, eyes locked on his screen.
I open my mouth to protest, think better of it, and check my smartwatch.
I can’t escape the song. It winds through the air in snatches, filling my head with memories. The melody cuts the half-healed wounds on my heart open again, but I deserve the pain.
I chase the elusive notes through the busy city streets, narrowly avoiding collisions with ladies carrying parasols, children wearing tiny sailor suits…
June 7. The day I get my third memory.
I can’t keep a skip out of my step as I hurry down the forest path, humming.
An oddly cold breeze whips around me, blowing my dark curls into my face.
I sigh and roll my eyes at the sky. Though mostly obscured by branches, I can tell it’s gloomy and full of clouds.
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