I SHUFFLE MY FEET TO keep my toes from going numb. This doorman is taking his sweet time. The ornamental iron-banded door, covered in carved dragons and warriors, stretches up and up like a portal into some ancient mystical realm.

“Yah loh, you still want come in wat?”

“Yeah, if that door’s not too heavy for you.”

“You no funny la. Logosian no always welcome la.”

“What did I do to you? Open up and I’ll buy you a bowl of churri churri.”

“No mah. You buy churri churri for you.” The little man behind the door pauses. “You now give me money for singhi meat stick. Whole fam-i-ly mah.”

“Jeez.” I bite my lip. This little joker drives a hard bargain. “Okay, deal.”

The door clanks and swings open just wide enough for me to enter. I’m faced with two little men. One jabs a short spear at me. “Play no funny business, lah.”

“Okay, okay.” I pluck a few paper bills from my pocket. “Enough for singhi meat stick, whole fam-i-ly.”

He snatches the bills from my ice-cold hands. “You go now mah. You go.”

Zopat. You’ve got to know how to wrangle the locals in this bizarre enclave. Admittedly it’s been a while.

With the sun now gone, the cold soaks through my clothes and into my bones. No matter how long I’ve lived in Etyom, there is no way to adjust to the cold that comes with the night. I hug my arms tightly against my body and roll my whole foot against the ground to keep up circulation.

Ahead, the lights glimmer off the snow and ice, giving the appearance of a winter holiday festival. A brief pause at an open-top fire barrel to warm up. A tingling spreads from my fingertips through my hand and into my arms.

“Oi, you no stand here. Fire no free, lah.” A woman scrambles out of a doorway, shooing me off.

“Yeah, I got it.” I make my way farther through the icy streets into the darkening enclave.

I still have no idea why that Musul wanted to help me. No, not just help me—risk his life to help me. Why would he do that? Sure, I helped him first, but people don’t return favors like that anymore. Not in this world.

Another glance at my PED. Stop looking, you know you’re late already. I’ll just bargain for the amount of time I should have had in the first place. With the new information on the table, they’ll have to extend my deadline.

The commercial district is hectic in the last hours of the working day. Signs flash in a never-ending gaudy display of drugs and other things everyone wants but few can afford. Who pays to run all the lights and strobing billboards? Energy isn’t cheap.

A ramshackle health clinic juts out from the main drag. Past the ancient clouded glass of the windows sits row upon row of cots filled with ghastly, emaciated bodies. Caregivers in white move back and forth. The New Black Death has not been eradicated. Like humankind, it lingers on, even in this arctic hell. True cases are few and far between now, but we all still instinctively shrink away from anyone who breaks into a fit of coughing. Anyone could have the NBD, and no one would know until it was too late. It happens. And when it does, the bodies pile high outside, and the clinic shuts down. There is no defense but cold and isolation. Thankfully there hasn’t been a bad breakout in a long time. Not since I was young and had it myself. That one was bad. Real bad.

Keep moving, Mila.

The street is full of bumping, milling people trying to sell that last ware or buy a bit of meat and a pinch of krig for the morning. There’s a break in the cloud cover, and for just an instant, a few stars peek through to the evening sky. A gift from Yeos. Every step I take distances me farther from my near brush with death in Kapka’s stronghold.

A large stone cathedral blocks my path. After my father died, my mother brought Zevry and me here in her trading caravan. The huge structure looms overhead. It’s beautiful, strong, and ancient; the fortress-like stone arches stretch up, reaching toward the sky. With measured steps and great reverence, my feet ascend the snow-covered outer steps to the gaping entrance. I shouldn’t waste time, but I’m already late. What’s a few more moments?

The ancient doors rival the opulent entrance to the enclave. Stepping inside, I bow my head. Two fingers touch the founders’ stone, then my forehead. Vibrant stained glass fills the windows and sets the large space awash with a purple-hued magic. It’s silent here, inside the sanctuary. Even those who do not practice my faith respect this place, lowering their voices to whispers as they pass in the street. It’s a testament to the endurance of my people. Still, it would be better suited in Logos than in this lurid dive. I whisper a hurried prayer, asking for the blessings of Yeos upon my journey and the protection of His omnipotent hand.

Outside, I make my way a few more blocks to the last of the street vendors. Old memories return with the smells of this place. My brother and I used to run between these stalls and down to the next block where the man with the funny hats always sold his wares. Mother would sell her knitted blankets here. She had a big heart and usually gave away more to the homeless than she actually sold. She said that was the way of the Lightbringer, the giving of a gift that cannot be repaid.

I stop at an unmarked intersection with a darkened alley. Why here? Of all the places, why did my legs bring me back? It was just a shortcut. I was just trying to beat Zevry and get back to Mother first. I couldn’t protect myself ... my purity. That was twenty years ago, Mila. Let it go.

The ice crunches under my boots as I reach the end of the alley, where it makes a dogleg turn and disappears into another snow-covered bend. The ancient ice-covered brick wall still sits there, the one I broke my fingernails on when clawing to get away.

I was just a child. Zev couldn’t hear me screaming back here. No one could. Those monsters stole an innocent light that day and left the husk of a child in its place. My mother, heartbroken, refused to entertain it. She dismissed my pain and moved on. No one wanted to understand. No one was there for me. No one but Zev. Why did you leave me, brother?

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I wipe the stinging cold of tears from my cheeks. Get a hold of yourself. What are you doing?

Pivoting back up the alley, my body locks in place. Two figures block my exit. A tingling déjà vu washes over me. This isn’t twenty years ago. This time they’ve got the wrong one. My fists clench.

“Wrong way dong lah. Lost girl? Shame, shame for wat?” The shadow has a small ax in his hand. Both men wear all blue and have bleached hair and shimmer contacts in their eyes. Gang affiliation. “You give us—ˮ

Launching forward, I kick hard to the inside of the shadow’s thigh and parry away a feeble swing of the double-bit ax. Spinning into the opposite shadow, I hit him with a flurry of palm-heel strikes to the head, dragging my nails across the flesh of his face. The man screams as the flat of my boot drives against his shin, scraping downward. Another cry and he falls backward, rolling down an ice mound.

The first man comes at me again. I deflect the ax, trapping his arm, and strip the weapon from him. Grabbing him by the hair, I bounce his face off the brick twice, rotate the ax in my free hand, and push the blade to his throat.

His friend struggles to pry himself from the ground.

“Try to stand and I bleed him.” I give the ax man’s bleach-blond hair a brutal jerk, eliciting a string of Zopatian cursing. The friend flops to the ground.

“Okay, okay, crazy girl mah,” ax man shouts.

“Wishing you brought more of your stupid gang with you?” There’s something about him. I spin him toward me and pin him to the wall, locking him down with an iron stare. “Shu?”

His face slackens at the sound of his name. “Let me go. How you know my name wat?”

I release him and step back, keeping my distance, the ax firmly in hand. “We used to sit together in front of the cathedral and share my lunch. There wasn’t hardly enough for me, but you were hungry, too. We were just kids. Your mother begged for charity from the patrons of the temple.”

His eyes grow wide. “Nooo wat? Mee-la. Long time ya? Why you back here, lah?” He opens his arms in a welcoming gesture.

“Did you just try to rob me?”

“Me? No lah. His idea.” He flicks his head at the groaning friend. “I try to see you need help. I know it was you.” He wipes a spot of blood from his cheek.

“I doubt that. Hey, tell your friend I’m sorry about the, uh ...” I motion like I’m clawing my own face.

Shu laughs and helps his friend up. “Oh no, he fine.”

The friend groans.

“Stepping up in the world from picking pockets? You were good, even back then. But this? Gang affiliation and robbery?”

“Hey, I stay hungry.” He shrugs with a gap-toothed smile.

“You still don’t know how to pick your targets, do you? You’re lucky you still have both your hands.”

“Lucky for long time, it called skill, mah.”

“Sure.” It’s hard not to laugh.

Shu gestures back at me. “You, you come here for wat, lah?”

“Business.”

His eyebrows rise. “Oh biz-ness. You have money?”

“Depends. Can you discretely show me where Konistiva is?”

“Dis-kreet? Cone-is-teev-via? Lo mah, for sure. Konistiva I take you fifty dollars.”

“Twenty.”

“Thirty-five.”

“Twenty-five or I’ll finish kicking your teeth out.”

“Okay, okay, you bargain like you fight, Mee-la.” He sticks his palms out toward me with a goofy laugh. “I not remember you so ruthless.”

“Yeah, me neither. Get your friend and stick to the shadows. I’ve got a meeting to attend, and I’m planning on making an entrance.”