Chapter Two

The sun crept under his eyelids as he gradually pulled himself from unconsciousness. Instinct told him to sharpen his awareness, survey his surroundings, scan for threats. He only managed to shift his eyes beneath their too-heavy lids.

Pain assailed him as he slowly became aware of his body. Everything hurt.

He finally peeled his eyes open, only to close them immediately as the glaring sun scalded him. He tried again, squinting into the intense light, and saw blue. Clear sky, not a cloud in sight.

Battling intense weakness, he turned his head to one side. Beside him, the ground was cracked and dusty, an impenetrable, hardened crust. In the distance, a lone shrub struggled for life.

A bird’s faraway scream had his gaze shifting back to the sky. Vultures were circling above, waiting for their prey to be weak enough to swoop down and consume while its meat was still fresh. He wondered what wretched creature was stranded out here waiting to die.

Then he realized that wretched creature was him.

He had no intention of becoming vulture food, but when he tried to move, he found the task excruciatingly difficult. But he had to try. After everything he’d endured, there was no way he was going to lie here helpless and surrender to death—

After everything he’d endured…?

What had he endured?

A wave of cold realization washed over him. Fighting to open his eyes under the blazing sun, his body too weak to move, was the only memory he had of anything. Ever.

He didn’t even know his own name.

The burden of flesh was an entirely foreign concept, of that he was certain. The blue sky, the cracked earth, the birds above him—these things were familiar. But this debilitating weakness, this feeling of being tethered to a withering sack of skin and bones…

This was something else entirely.

Evidently, whoever he’d been was someone who didn’t give up easily, because, despite the hopelessness of his situation, he forced himself to roll over. Shoving onto his hands with all his feeble strength, he pushed his torso up.

To his left, there was nothing but barren desert as far as the eye could see. To his right, a towering cliff face rose proudly toward the sky. At its base, a few measly shrubs and scraggly grasses grew.

At its base…was shade.

Focusing on his new objective, he began to drag his heavy body across the burning dust toward that little strip of shelter. He was naked, he realized. Of course he was. Awareness of his nakedness, the desire to clothe his bare skin… These were other sensations that felt foreign.

Humiliating.

A cold wrath rose within, the urge to annihilate whatever unseen foe had landed him in this predicament.

For now, he quelled it and focused on the immediate objective: survival. He reached forward and dug his claws into the cracked earth, dragging himself inch by inch until he finally reached his destination.

Sheltered from the sun at last, he collapsed in exhaustion.

He cursed his foreign flesh prison and its debilitating weakness. He’d once been powerful. Invincible. Now, he was nothing. Now, he could only lie there and hope he wouldn’t feel it when the vultures started to eat him.

With that final morbid wish, he slipped away into oblivion.

…

Deep in the Southern Territory, the land of the Fire Queen, a human named Cragar led a small procession across the baking desert.

Three riders atop weary horses rode in formation around a four-wheeled cart, pulled by a camel. Their two-day journey to the nearest village had been fruitful, and they were laden with supplies for upcoming travels. The skin on their faces had tanned to shades of deep brown after days exposed to the sun—except for Anzo, who was just red and peeling no matter how much he covered.

Everyone was thirsty, even the camel, but Cragar pushed his men onward regardless. He knew they were close to their camp, and there was no water to be found nearby anyway.

The sun was sinking low on the horizon, that vivid orange ball close to disappearing. Once it did, the temperature would drop to near freezing, and lack of water wouldn’t be the only survival concern. High above, vultures circled the darkening sky, their lonely cries the only sound in the desolate silence.

Ahead, a dark cliff towered above the flat earth. There was only one path to reach the top—a narrow traverse diagonally across the face. It was this path that Cragar would lead his men up on the final push toward their camp. If all went well, he hoped to reach it by nightfall.

As they neared the cliff base, however, his eyes caught upon a dark object in the distance that seemed incongruous with the landscape. He watched as a vulture swooped toward it before angling sharply back to the sky. Another followed.

Pointing it out to his men, they veered off course and headed toward it to investigate. As they approached, his confusion morphed into bewilderment and even trepidation.

The shape was vaguely humanlike. Long legs, arms splayed out. Except its appearance was…wrong. It was like a shadow, but empty of all shade and tone. It was darkness without depth, a void that absorbed light like a sponge. The harder he tried to focus upon it, the more his eyes seemed to blur.

“Is it dead?” one of his men asked as they stopped their horses a safe distance away.

“If it isn’t, it will be soon,” the other replied, “else the vultures wouldn’t be circling.”

Cragar dismounted and cautiously approached the strange figure. As he neared, he saw it was indeed a humanoid male. There was no mistaking it, seeing as it was quite naked.

It—he—lay on his side, one arm under him, the other stretched forward, long legs sprawled on the dirt. Sleek black hair fanned out around his head, hiding his face. His body was built with the strength of a warrior, though it was impossible to discern any details on his skin because of its eerie lightlessness. To gaze upon him was like peering into an abyss.

Cragar approached the figure, lifted a sandaled foot, and prodded him lightly on the shoulder. The shadow man didn’t move. Cragar prodded him again, this time hard enough to nudge him over onto his back.

The creature groaned softly.

He leaped back. “By the Goddess, it’s alive!”

“What sort of man is this? He looks like a demon from the dark Shades.”

“I’ve no idea,” Cragar replied, “but I don’t know that I’d call it a man of any sort.”

Only an Elemental could have such unnatural characteristics, though he’d never heard of any of their kind with such otherworldly skin. But he’d never particularly cared to learn more about the Queens’ magic-infused abominations either.

As far as he was concerned, the world would be a better place if Elementals and their vile Queens were wiped off it. The only thing Elementals were good for was procuring gold when he sold them as chattel at the market.

“A Hybrid, perhaps?” one of the other men ventured, still staring at the monstrous creature sprawled in the sand.

“He has no animal characteristics to speak of,” the second said.

“He has claws. Look.”

There was a silence as they studied their strange discovery.

And then Cragar said, “Whatever he is, he’ll fetch us a handsome sum.”

The gazes upon the naked figure flared with sudden avarice. “Let’s take him.”

Cautiously, the three men approached the male. They seized him by his arms and legs and hefted his considerable bulk off the desert floor, shuffling awkwardly toward the cart.

Halfway there, he awoke.

Delirious and weakened by whatever ordeal had left him stranded in the desert, the creature could not attack anywhere near as effectively as he might have been able to. He simply jerked in the men’s holds and lashed out with his claws, an ominous growl rumbling in his chest. Reflexively, they dropped him and jumped back, and the male hit the ground.

His eyes snapped open.

They gasped.

“By the Goddess, what is this beast?”

The creature snarled and, though he seemed to be hovering on the brink of unconsciousness, slowly began to climb upright. He painstakingly stood before them, stretching to his full height and swaying on his feet. He blinked heavily, revealing unnatural eyes—twin pits of darkness with wreaths of flame at their centers. Flexing his claws, he sank into an unsteady attack position.

And then two enormous, leathery wings burst from his back.

The men stumbled back, one falling to the ground. Seemingly from nowhere, those wings had appeared. There’d been no sign of them moments ago.

The male snarled, the curling of his lip revealing gleaming white fangs. He was fear personified. A living shadow of death.

“Get the chains,” Cragar commanded, facing off with the creature. He didn’t care what it was. He was looking at that shadow of death and seeing gold raining down.

One did not flourish in his line of work without getting an acute sense of what was sought after. In fact, he was already thinking of one buyer in particular who would be interested in this specimen.

There was a male of indeterminate species—some said human; others, Enchanter—who traveled the Territories with his troupe of Elementals, charging a sizable fee to showcase them to curious patrons.

What might this creature of shadows be worth to such a man? Surely nothing short of a fortune.

“Get the chains,” Cragar repeated, “and secure him tightly. We’ll take him to Allegra and sell him to the Fiend Collector.”

The creature resisted capture with everything he had, as feral things were wont to do. Cragar’s men sustained several lacerations that would require the use of precious medical supplies.

But in the end, the creature’s debilitating weakness was no match for three humans motivated by the prospect of wealth. A strike to the temple finally took him down, and his wrists and ankles were securely bound.

He was loaded onto the back of the cart and hauled back to camp. The following morning, they packed up again and hit the dusty road for Allegra, Central Territory.

There was business to be done.

…

The human woman cast a nervous glance over her shoulder as she slipped into Harrow’s tent. It was always this way—no one wanted to be recognized visiting a phony psychic, but the lure of knowing the unknown was too great for them to stay away.

Sitting neatly in the empty chair, the woman smoothed her skirts, eyes widening as she took in the appearance of her “fortune teller.” Harrow was used to such reactions.

Today, she wore a red shift with a patterned silk robe on top, the loose sleeves and bottom decorated with tassels. Heavy teardrop earrings and a silken headband to hide her pointed ears contrasted with her thick black hair. A locket nestled between her breasts inside her dress, hanging from a delicate chain.

Her clothing helped her look the part, but that was mostly because it was how the Seers of old traditionally dressed. And her locket was her most precious possession—it was her mother’s, the only thing Harrow had of hers. Inside was a tiny shard of crystal, the last remaining piece of her mother’s casting stones.

As for Harrow’s customer, she was nearly the opposite of Harrow in every way. Pale-skinned, human, wealthy—likely the wife of a successful merchant. Allegra was smack dab in the middle of the Central Territory, the Ether Queen’s domain, making it an ideal trading hub for all five Territories.

“How much for a reading?”

“Ten pieces.” It was the highest price Harrow ever asked for, but the woman’s clothing told her she could afford it.

The customer balked at the price momentarily but soon reached into the pocket of her dress and deposited ten gold coins on the table.

“Let me see your hands, please.”

The woman held out her hands, and Harrow clasped them, turning them over so her palms faced up. She studied them—soft, unlined—allowing the Water to rise with every breath. “What’s your name?”

“Rosemary.”

Harrow closed her eyes, repeating the woman’s name in her mind as her power rose steadily higher, its current rushing through her blood.

Out of nowhere, an unexpected wave of darkness overtook her like a flood, and her awareness was swept away. Images and sounds flashed across her mind. She saw a circle of caravans in a forest clearing. A group of women gathered around a fire. A shadow streaking across the full moon.

And then she saw fire, and she heard screams. Familiar screams.

Harrow jerked her hands back from Rosemary’s and opened her eyes. The vision faded as she looked into the concerned face of her customer. Her heart pounded and her palms shook, but she tried not to betray how rattled she was.

“Is everything all right?” Rosemary asked.

She had just seen memories, ones she’d never been able to access before. Of all the times for her mind to open to her, why now? That shadow on the moon… She’d seen the same thing in her scrying bowl a month ago, not realizing it was a memory. But what was it?

Of course she’d heard the stories of the Fire Queen’s fabled incorporeal assassins, but she’d always thought them to be rumors. Everyone did. It helped that no one could agree on what they were. Formless, ghostly warriors? Beings capable of killing with a single touch? It was too fantastical to be real. The genocide of her people was terrible enough without needing to invent invisible, invincible foes to be responsible for it.

But then, what had really happened that night? 

Rosemary had begun eyeing the exit as if debating whether to flee. She likely believed Harrow’s sudden tension was in relation to her reading.

“Everything’s fine.” Harrow shook her head roughly. “My apologies. Let’s continue.”

With some hesitation, Rosemary nodded.

Harrow closed her eyes once more. She was almost wary of sinking fully into her power again, but thankfully, this time nothing unusual reached out to her from the darkness.

When she was ready, she reached for her Seer cards and shuffled them. The methods human fortune tellers used were usually in imitation of the Seers, so Harrow was free to use these methods without fear of revealing herself.

For a reading, six cards were dealt from the deck of twenty-four. Each was a different type of water with a variable meaning, depending on how it was drawn.

“Rain, Waterfall, Snow, Spring, Wave, and River,” Harrow read as she placed each card, taking time to listen to what the Water told her. “Wave and River are powerful cards, and their placement as the final two is telling.”

“Telling how?”

Harrow studied her customer, deciding how much to reveal. She tried to limit the number of true readings she gave out, withholding specific details to lessen the chance of her identity being discovered. She couldn’t lie outright, however. It went against everything she was to be dishonest about what the Water told her. But the risk of exposure always lingered, and she had a duty to herself to survive, too.

Rosemary was different from her usual customers, however. The Water had told Harrow a great deal, and she sympathized with the woman’s plight. She decided to throw caution to the wind and tell her everything.

“You’re pregnant.”

Rosemary leaped out of her chair, eyes round as saucers. “I’m what?”

“Pregnant, dear.”

“Are—are you sure?”

“Very.”

Those saucer-like eyes filled with tears.

“This is good news.” It wasn’t a question. It was all in the cards. “You’ve been trying for a long time. Long enough that you feared you were unable.”

With shaking hands, Rosemary straightened her chair and sat heavily upon it once more. “Y-yes.”

“You will have a son.”

“By the Goddess.” The tears started to fall.

“But you must be careful. There are several potential futures where you could lose the child.”

The woman seized the edge of the table with a white-knuckled grip. “What should I do? How do I prevent this?”

Harrow hesitated. This was where her job got difficult. Being the bearer of good tidings was always pleasant, but the reverse…not so much. “You’ve been trying for a child long enough that unrest has stirred in your marriage. You feared your husband might cast you aside if you couldn’t provide him with children.”

Such a human problem, Harrow mused distantly. Elementals would never base a mating off the desire for an heir—a couple could be together their entire thousand-year lifespan without ever conceiving.

Long ago, Harrow’s mother had told her that because Elementals lived so much longer than humans, the Goddess hadn’t blessed them with the same rate of fertility to maintain balance. Harrow had been the first Water Elemental born in a century, and her clan had always told her she was a gift.

Now she was the only one of them left. And she didn’t feel like a gift anymore.

“Yes, that’s t-true,” Rosemary said.

“You will discover something about your husband that will upset you greatly. Though you have every right to be angry, you must not fall prey to dark emotions. Remember your joy for your unborn child. Hold onto your peace for his sake.”

“My son…” Rosemary’s eyes were still spilling tears, but there was also a hard look in them that told Harrow she might already have suspicions about what her husband was up to.

“Thank you.” The woman rose shakily from her chair. Leaning over the table, she grasped Harrow’s hands tightly and held them to her bosom. “Thank you so much. I can never thank you enough.”

After leaving another three gold pieces on the table, Rosemary left. Harrow reorganized her cards into a neat pile and tidied the rest of her workspace, trying to recall more details from the memory flashes she’d seen. Nothing more came to her, however, and she knew better than to force it. The Water would reveal more when it was ready.

Besides, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted these memories. Whatever they uncovered would bring her nothing but more grief and pain.

Her fortune-telling booth was set up as it always was. Beneath her awning tent, the writing desk from her caravan became the table she laid readings on, and her clients sat on the desk’s chair. Harrow sat upon a small chaise with clawed feet. When traveling, it fit beside the wardrobe inside. Like Malaikah’s, her portable home also had a mini wood stove with two burners for cooking.

The circus had set up camp for the next month at Allegra’s fairgrounds. Dinner was served in the meal tent at sunset—which was already well underway—and the main performance in the big top started at nightfall. Harrow tried to catch Malaikah’s show every night. She never tired of watching Mal backflip through space as the crowds gasped in awe.

Ducking outside, she flipped over the Reading in Session sign on her tent and headed down the rows of colorful caravans. Ahead, the big top loomed in the fading light, the enchanted lights within already illuminated, giving the canvas a soft glow.

Salizar’s Incredible Elemental Circus was an elaborate setup. It never ceased to amaze her how much stuff they managed to pack into their tiny wagons and how quickly they were able to reconstruct their playground of weird and impossible things.

Maybe this wasn’t the life she would have chosen for herself, but over the years, she’d learned to love the mayhem of the circus and felt grateful to be part of it. And what else could one do in life besides be grateful?

At the meal tent, she piled a plate full of food and then took a seat across from “Lenny the Lizard Contortionist” and “Claudia Sky Tamer,” an eagle Hybrid with an impressive aerial show. Everyone was artfully dressed for tonight’s main performance, and the familiar preshow buzz filled the air.

Claudia and Lenny were already mid-conversation. “You must have heard about the human at Lady Absynthe’s show last night?”

Lenny’s reptilian eyes lit with the thrill of gossip. “What happened?”

“He managed to hide under the stage until after closing, and then he followed her back to her caravan to proclaim his undying love.”

Lenny cackled. “She told me her nipple tassels fell off during her final reveal.”

“Well, that explains it! If she flashed those puppies at me, I’d fall in love too.”

They dissolved into laughter together while Harrow rolled her eyes and took a bite of food to hide her grin.

Loren the Human sat down beside her and smiled shyly. “Hi, Harrow.”

“Hi, Loren.” She smiled in return, but inside, she tensed. “How are you today?” The only human employed at the circus (besides Harrow, or so everyone assumed), Loren was often referred to as such. Harrow, grateful she hadn’t earned a similar nickname, took pity on him. But every time he spoke to her, she felt as though her life of stability flashed before her eyes.

She’d been ten years old when she joined the circus. That was five decades ago now. For an Elemental, sixty was young, but for a human, she should have been showing her age. Loren had joined years after her and was around twenty years younger, but lately, he’d begun to look older.

Most of the Elementals in the circus were pretty ignorant of the human aging process, but Harrow knew it was only a matter of time before Loren or someone else noticed her appearance, and she’d have to choose whether to reveal her secret or leave her home forever.

In the meantime, she avoided Loren as much as she could, which wasn’t always easy. She got the impression he sought out her company, likely believing they had a connection as the only two humans in an Elemental circus.

“Oh, I’m fine,” he replied around a mouthful of food. “Been busy all day helping the boss work on security at the front gate. After what happened at—”

“Loren.”

He stiffened and twisted around.

Everyone’s heads turned as the boss himself strode through the tent. Along with his imposing height, Salizar had olive skin, dark hair, and the same pointed ears as all Elementals. In his case, they were proof of his Enchanter blood and the Air magic he possessed, but he always kept them hidden beneath a short top hat.

The common theory was that he pretended to be human to put his customers at ease. Though the illusion only went so far. After the display at Beirstad, there was likely no one in that particular region who didn’t know what he was.

He never went anywhere without his formidable enchanted staff. Malaikah called it the “witch stick,” and the circus had been abuzz ever since a few of them had seen the weapon in action last month. Oli had retold the story a dozen times, each telling more grandiose than the last.

For the most part, however, Salizar had never given anyone he employed reason to fear him. He kept safe those he considered under his protection, but Harrow wished the Goddess’s blessing on anyone who crossed him or got on his bad side.

Loren stood immediately and came to stiff attention as Salizar approached their table. For years, he had served as Salizar’s personal assistant. “Sir.”

Everyone stared and conversation hushed. It was rare indeed to see their aloof leader in the common areas. He tended to keep to his caravan or private tent, always pitched beside the big top. He would show up for performances and in times of need and then disappear again, and there was no one who dared disturb him.

“I’m going to the market tonight,” he said, “immediately after the performance. Assign another to cover your duties—I want you with me.”

Loren tensed visibly at this pronouncement. “Just us two, sir? Shouldn’t we bring a few more?”

“No. Be at my tent after the show.” Without waiting for a response, Salizar spun on a heel and strode away, long coat swooshing behind him.

Loren looked pale.

“What’s happening?” Harrow asked him, her senses immediately on alert. “Why are you going to the market?”

“I don’t know.” It was easy to see he was lying. “Excuse me, Harrow.” Before she could say another word, he hurried off in the direction Salizar had gone, leaving his plate of food behind.

Lenny rolled his eyes and grabbed it, shamelessly adding the contents to his own plate. “Bloody Salizar. Always so mysterious.” Harrow noticed he checked that their boss was out of earshot before speaking. “If I could make lightning like that, you bet I’d be shocking people left and right.”

Claudia snatched Loren’s bread roll and took a bite. “If you did, you’d bring another mob down on your head in days. I still don’t think it was wise to stir things up that much. We’ll never be able to go back to Beirstad now.”

Lenny scoffed. “Like we’d want to anyway. I’ll stay far away from anywhere that greets us with torches and spears, thank you very much.”

The conversation continued as they divvied up portions of the abandoned meal, but Harrow barely heard them. She was still staring after Loren, suddenly feeling that sense of dread and impending upheaval all over again.

First, she’d had that strange premonition, and now she was seeing flashes of her lost memories. Why now? What had changed?

Regardless of every rationalization, she couldn’t help but feel certain that whatever the Water had been warning her about hadn’t yet come to pass. And she couldn’t help wondering if the coming darkness was somehow connected to whatever business Salizar had at the market.