Excerpt from Ash’s Journal – August 24, 4-1893

  When Dahlia was a teenager, I decided she didn’t have what it takes to survive in a Mirnen-controlled world. She was a troubled child. She was willful and emotional and struggled to take my direction. Though she showed talent early on, she didn’t progress in our training like her siblings had. She was weaker than a full-blooded Mirnen, and she lacked our stamina. She also lacked focus, and she often ignored my direction. She didn’t even seem to mind when I punished her for it.

  A long time ago, I decided Dahlia wouldn’t measure up to her siblings—that she would die early. I accepted it and distanced myself from her out of fear of how her death might affect me.

  But I was wrong about her.

  Dahlia may be the most incredible Halfling I’ve ever met—comparable in battle to an experienced Mirnen. I spent years dismissing her, only to learn the hard way that she’d been holding back. Years ago, she asked me about the Sight, and I dismissed her questions as mere curiosity. Now, I know she’s learned to use the Sight far beyond what we Mirnen know of the ability. Not only can she protect herself, but she has at least one powerful ally on her side—someone else to keep an eye on her.

  It took several days for my hands to regenerate after Simon’s visit. Sure, I’m furious about his assault, but I’m even more furious about his knowledge of Dahlia’s heritage. I have serious questions about his attachment to her. He could be locked away in the King’s dungeons for a century for what he did to me, but that didn’t stop Simon before. The man was deranged once—a true monster among our people. He wasn’t afraid to give in to his monstrous urges.

  There is more going on here—more I don’t understand. And despite this lack of clarity where my daughter is concerned, I am utterly relieved that Dahlia has Simon on her side. He didn’t survive this many millennia because of his kind heart. He’s a brutal and calculating monster—feared by most Mirnen. We’ve all heard the stories of his bloodlust—even if he claims to have the monster inside him under control, I don’t trust him to keep it contained. God, but if he’s on Dahlia’s side, coupled with her own talents, she may just have a chance of survival in our cruel world.

  Unless Simons destroys her first. That may be the more likely scenario. I can only hope he has truly defeated the monster within himself.

  ***

  Dahlia

  The thought of the Imm intruders retaliating against the Reaper—against the people of Firen—left my stomach in knots. Did the Reaper know about this risk? Would he stop his vigilante efforts if he did?

  He was fighting a losing battle. He'd saved so many children over the last few years, but what difference did it make when the Imms still held all the power? If they chose to go after my people, there would be nothing they could do about it. They would be helpless, and a single vigilante wouldn't stand a chance to defend them.

  So we'd be left to rely on the Calos to defend us.

  And I wasn't sure I trusted them to step in.

  I shivered at the thought as I made my way out the front door of Carmen's residence hall. I turned in the direction of the courtyard but paused as my eyes roamed over the clock tower and the library below it.

  Years ago, I dreamed of gaining access to the library to learn more about the Sight, and now, it was here within my reach. It always had been, but it was always a risk I wasn’t willing to take.

  After my meeting with Carmen, I felt reckless—frustrated by the wedge she was driving between us. Now, it was far too tempting to access the information I needed there. It was risky—especially at this time of night with the guards milling about—but I wasn’t leaving until I saw what was inside. Tonight, I needed some sort of victory.

  So, I gave in to my impulses and strolled over to the front doors of the library and listened.

  Silence.

  I heard nothing but the breeze and distant city sounds from beyond the wall. Peering around the side of the building, I saw windows of varying sizes and heights. I walked around the side of the building and towards the back, and I couldn't help but smile at the sight of a dark, open window on the second floor. It was usually easy to find open windows around Firen—making it easy to access places on hot summer nights.

  It seemed no different within Redmond Compound.

  With a running leap, I landed in a crouch on the windowsill. I held my breath as I ducked my head and peered into the room. My heart nearly stopped at the sight of a woman lying on a thin mattress, but I relaxed when I saw she was sleeping soundly there. She groaned quietly and mumbled something in her sleep as she rolled onto her side—thankfully, away from the window. I exhaled softly. If I had been a more malevolent intruder, it would have been far too easy to harm this poor woman.

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  With controlled, quiet movements, I stepped off the windowsill and into the room. A floorboard creaked softly under my foot, and I froze—my eyes whipping up to the woman’s sleeping form. When I was certain she hadn’t heard me, I made my way across the rough, wooden floor. I noticed various books in stacks around the room—even beside the woman on her bed. I assumed this woman was either a librarian or a scholar, and thankfully not any sort of guard.

  I made it to the door and held my breath as I turned the handle to open the heavy, wooden door that reminded me of the door to Carmen’s quarters. I was lucky. The door made no sound as I opened it into the room and slipped into the hall beyond. I was careful to leave the door slightly cracked—giving me quick access if I needed to flee.

  I turned and started down the plain, dark hall—a hall that was made only of dark brick and entirely devoid of any decor. It was quiet—too quiet. It felt like every step I took echoed in the damned place. Despite my worries, I quickly found a staircase leading down to the main floor. I took each step quickly—hurrying as if someone was right on my heels.

  As soon as I stepped off the staircase, I knew I was in the right place. Just beyond two ornate glass doors, I could see the massive Predictor library. With a single hand, I pushed on the glass. The doors slipped open with ease, but I paused in the doorway. The library was massive—far larger than I’d imagined. I couldn’t help but stare open-mouthed at the incredible sight before me. Everyone knew that the library was attached to the clock tower, but no one had ever told me that the library was even inside the clock tower.

  Up and up—twisting up dozens of stories into the tower—I could see bookshelves upon bookshelves of literary work. Hundreds of thousands—no, millions—of books in all shapes and sizes lined these shelves. I peered out over the main floor of the library and realized I didn’t know where to start. There was far too much to see in a single night.

  So, I wandered.

  And as I wandered, I read over every title I could manage—relying on the Sight to take in as much information as possible. In just under an hour, I found collections on nature, politics, Predictor history, textbooks from years past, and even poetry. Now and then, I opened a book to see what was within.

  Eventually, as my eyes grew tired and my shoulders sore from slouching against the bookshelves as I read through whatever book caught my eye, I slipped the last book back onto the shelf and moved on, only to be stopped in my tracks at the sight of a lone bookshelf on the back wall in a place on the bottom floor where the light from above didn’t reach.

  This old, wooden bookshelf was filled with beautiful, leatherbound books—all worn as if they’d been well-loved. A small sign placed in front of the bookshelf warned, “Do Not Touch—For Council Use Only.”

  And that only made me want to touch them even more.

  Ignoring the sign, I slipped past the sign and picked out a book at random, finding that the cover had no title. As I looked through the collection, I realized that none of these books had titles—at least not on the cover. Some had beautiful designs etched into the covers, and others had gold trim. These were Imm design—I could tell immediately. Human books were never so richly decorated.

  I opened the book in my hands and furrowed my brows at the short passage within. It meant little to me—it was nothing more than a retelling of someone’s week in a place called Garria. I flipped through the pages—reading passages every now and then—until I realized this was a journal—an Imm’s journal. I was reading someone’s personal recollections—much like the ones I kept in the journal my father had forced me to start when I was twelve years old.

  I froze as I remembered my father’s warning about Imm journals. These weren’t meant to be read by anyone but the author. Reading Imm journals was taboo.

  But also far too tempting for someone like me.

  Excited now, I looked through journal after journal until I found one with an introductory page that said only, “This journal is the property of the High General.”

  “You sound important,” I murmured to myself as I flipped through the pages absently and admired the beautiful penmanship.

  A thump sounded from somewhere in the library as a door slammed shut from somewhere on the other side of the tower. I quickly ducked behind a shelf and waited as the sound of footsteps on the floor above echoed throughout the library until the person seemed to pause at the railing that overlooked the main floor—the same floor I was hiding on. A light flashed over the library floor—illuminating the entire room.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” A man said in a low voice, “You’re just being paranoid.”

  “If anyone finds me here—” Another man’s voice sounded—this one tight with worry.

  “It’s fine Muri—I’ll always protect you. Let’s just go to my room. We shouldn’t be in here.”

  I recognized the name. Muri was the boy those Predictors had spoken about before I killed them, and he didn’t sound like a boy at all. I grinned to myself at the unmistakable sound of kissing and whispers of affection. This is why he was sneaking into the library? To meet with a guard—a lover? The Predictors were going to kill him for this?

  I stayed perfectly still—pressed firmly to the bookshelf. I didn’t even dare to breathe until footsteps sounded, echoing throughout the large room. And as the light faded and I heard the footsteps fade away, I still didn’t move a muscle. I couldn’t risk it—not yet.

  As soon as I heard a door shut with a click from somewhere far across the library, I was on my feet and running on quiet footfalls towards the stairway I had used to get into the library—praying no one else was out of bed, and the guards weren’t nearby. My feet were silent, and my movements were careful as I navigated the narrow bookshelves and slipped into the now-familiar dark hallway.

  I imagined lurkers in every shadow of every quiet doorway, ready to pounce at me as I passed.

  But no one stopped me.

  Instead, I found the sleeping woman’s room quickly, needing only to find the door I’d left cracked open. I didn’t even pause to look at the woman—relying on the sound of her steady breathing instead to confirm she was still asleep. Within moments, I was rushing across her room before leaping from the window and into the warm night, with the High General’s journal in hand.

  And for the first time, I didn’t regret killing those three Predictors.