Chapter One

Laeho sat in his luxurious bed, still dressed in his white bedclothes, and turned the letter over in his hands. It was plain, and unornamented. On the back, in neat handwriting, it said:

To: Areon Ebar. From: Shale.

They were the only words written on the white envelope. He’d already tried holding it up to the light but he couldn’t see the note inside. The only thing he was sure of was that the note was addressed to his younger brother, Areon. He couldn’t remember who Shale was, but he assumed she was one of his brother’s friends. Laeho was itching to break its seal before his brother returned. 

Areon was gone from the mansion, and Laeho could guess where he was. He was probably on the streets again, dressed as a beggar and experiencing life from the perspective of “regular” people. Laeho still didn’t understand why Areon loved to do that so much.

“Laeho?” someone called. 

Laeho jumped and shoved the letter under his pillow. He couldn’t let Areon couldn’t see that he’d taken it; Areon wouldn’t understand. I’m going to give it back, Laeho thought. I’m just looking at it. There’s no harm done.

The heavy wooden door creaked open, and Areon poked his head in. He looked terrible, his face caked in mud, and his beggar clothes torn and rumpled.

“Who are you?” Laeho asked. “And what are you doing in my house? You realize this mansion belongs to the Ebar family, right? We control more than a quarter of the king’s armada, so you clearly chose the wrong house to rob.”

Areon glanced down at himself and rolled his eyes. He pushed open the door wider then walked in and sat on Laeho’s rug. The mud on his clothes would probably make the rug dirty, but Laeho tried not to worry about it. He was sure someone would clean it, as they always did. 

“I need to talk to you, Laeho,” Areon said. 

Laeho smiled a fake smile, trying not to think about the letter under his pillow. “Oh, Areon? That’s you? I didn’t recognize you beneath your beggar costume. What do you need?”

“I need you to listen,” Areon said, sounding a bit exasperated. “I’ve told you before about the disappearances, but I think it’s getting worse.”

Laeho looked away, blushing. “I… I don’t remember.” 

Areon put out his hand. “That’s fine. I just need you to listen. As far as I can tell, orphans and beggars have been going missing for at least months, but it could be much longer. This could have been happening for years, but we never noticed because it was always people without families, too unimportant for anyone like our family to notice. I’m getting close. But I think this is bigger than a gang I didn’t know about, or a kidnapper.”

Laeho pursed his lips. “Have you taken this to Father?”

“Of course I took it to Father,” Areon snapped. “He said it wasn’t our problem.”

“That’s because it’s not our problem. We’re not kings! We just decide when to go to war! We’re a powerful family, but we aren’t responsible for protecting this peninsula from anything other than the eastern islands.”

Areon threw his hands up. “Well, how in the name of Tare are we supposed to do that? If any of the eastern islands attack us, we won’t stand a chance, let alone all of them!” Areon was yelling now.

“Please lower your voice,” Laeho said. “We’re not arguing about the armada right now. Areon, you’re not responsible for single-handedly saving this kingdom. You’re just a kid—”

“I’m one year younger than you,” Areon snapped.

“Fine,” Laeho said. “You’re not a kid, but this still isn’t your responsibility. Let it go.”

Areon stood suddenly. “That’s pretty easy for you, but not all of us have the luxury of being able to forget.”

Laeho’s face turned red. The comment cut deep, and Areon immediately looked ashamed.

Areon turned away. “My friend vanished yesterday. Her brother was an Obsidian Sentinel, and he came for me, because he thought I would know where she was. He said she sent me a letter, telling me where she was, which isn’t even true.”

Laeho felt his face break out in a cold sweat, and he was glad Areon was turned away, and couldn’t see his face. Laeho was terrible at lying, even by omission. 

“This is about a girl?” he teased, trying to keep his tone light.

“I never said it was a girl,” Areon grumbled. 

Laeho smiled slightly. “That’s exactly how I knew,” he said.

Areon sighed, and walked out of the room. Laeho closed the door behind him, and let out a sigh of relief. Then with a shaking hand he withdrew the letter from beneath his pillow. It wasn’t too late. He could leave it on the dining room table, and Areon would never be the wiser. But… Areon was becoming obsessed with the “disappearances,” and he’d been spending more time than ever dressed as a peasant, walking the streets of the peninsula. 

Laeho didn’t want to lose his brother. Not like he’d lost his mother. Areon was all he had. He was Laeho’s only friend. Laeho loved his life, he loved the Ebar mansion, and he didn’t want that all to be shattered. Not again. That’s why he’d taken the letter in the first place. He thought it was a love-letter. He wanted to know how serious things were, and how long it’d be before Areon would abandon him. But it might be so much more than that.

Laeho broke the seal. He regretted it the instant he did it, but there was no going back now. Carefully, he removed the letter from the envelope.

Dear Areon, he read.

If you’re reading this, I’m already gone. 

Laeho stopped reading, dropping the letter. He stood back, his eyes wide. He knew he’d read it correctly, but his mind was slow to comprehend what it could mean. At that moment, he decided that Areon could never see the letter. He would shove it in the back of his giant dresser, and forget about it, like he did everything else. If Areon didn’t see the note, he would think that the girl who’d written it had just left, without saying goodbye. If he knew there was more to her disappearance, he’d never stop searching until he found her. Laeho might lose his brother forever. 

He picked up the letter, and shoved it into its envelope, which he tucked away where he’d never see it. He couldn’t afford to be reminded.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Two

A middle-aged woman who Laeho didn’t recognize sat down across from him. His Father was off doing something important, and Areon never joined them for breakfast. Father made him come to dinner, but otherwise he didn’t force Areon to do anything he didn’t want to do. 

“Good morning, Laeho. I’m Hyla,” the woman said, smiling prettily. 

Laeho grunted in response, staring at his soup.

“Are you excited about your sword fight tomorrow?”

“Why would I be?” Laeho asked, reaching for his spoon. Maybe if she could see he was eating, she wouldn’t keep trying to talk to him.

“I assume you’ve been practicing with that nice Gerrion boy, right?” she asked.

“Why do you care?” He glanced up to see if her smile would waver, but it stayed firm.

“I care because I care about you,” she said with a smile.

Laeho wondered briefly if she was always happy, or if the smile was just as fake as her makeup. 

“I don’t know you,” he said. 

She laughed, her soft tinkling laugh. “Of course you know me,” she said. “I’m your father’s wife.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

The woman shook her head. “Do we have to do this every day?” she asked, still smiling. Her eyes, however, just looked tired.

“I’ve never seen you before in my life,” Laeho insisted.

“So you’ve said. Every day now for the past year. Maybe we could stick to small talk for now?” 

“You’re not my mother,” he said. “That will always be true. I remember my mother. She had blonde hair, like mine. She was kind, and beautiful. She was nothing like you.” 

The woman’s smile wavered, and Laeho felt an unexplainable surge of satisfaction. Maybe he had met this woman before. He couldn’t remember it, but the familiarity was there. 

“Have you talked to the physicians lately?” the woman asked brightly, as if she was just making more small talk. 

“No,” Laeho said, turning back to his soup. 

“Maybe you should—”

“Stop,” Laeho commanded. 

The woman seemed surprised by his harsh tone. 

“I’m not going to talk to them again. They’ll tell me the same thing they tell me every time. They’ll put on their pitying looks and pained expressions and tell me, ‘You’re not sick. There’s nothing to cure. You just think differently than everyone else and what’s wrong with that?’ as if this is the same as someone not being able to tell the difference between red and green.”

“I know this is hard for you, but—”

“You could never know what it’s like to be unable to make more memories. Everyone who talks to me pities me, introducing themselves regardless of how often we’ve talked, because they know I won’t remember a word they say. And at the end of every conversation, they say ‘don’t forget,’ as if this is all my choice.” 

Laeho stood, and walked out of the room, slamming the onyx lined door behind him. Then he took a deep breath, relaxing on the other side. A second later he glanced at the door, wondering if he was supposed to be eating breakfast right now, but he didn’t feel hungry so he just turned and walked away.

 

*  *  *

 

Areon was waiting in front of Laeho’s room, and Laeho could tell instantly that something was wrong. In his hand, Areon held a small letter. 

Laeho’s heart dropped. “Areon…”

“Did you know about this letter?” Areon asked, not waiting for Laeho to finish. His voice wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t calm either. It didn’t sound angry, it sounded hurt. 

“How’d you find it?” Laeho asked in a small voice. 

Areon rolled his eyes. “I asked one of the servants if there’d been any letters for me. He told me you’d taken a letter for me. And look what I find tucked away in your room.” 

Laeho felt close to tears. “I was going to tell you, but—”

“But you’d rather run from your problems than confront them,” Areon finished bitterly. 

“It’s not my problem,” Laeho said without thinking. “It’s not yours either. You can’t let this consume you.”

Areon looked up from the floor. “How could you care so little about the things that are happening around you?” he asked. “Why am I the only one in this world that gives a crap about any of this? You think anything that doesn’t affect you directly is someone else’s problem. I’m done with you.” 

He turned and walked toward his own room. “Wait!” Laeho called. Areon pretended not to hear him. 

“Where are you going?” Laeho asked desperately. 

“I’m going to find my friend,” he said without turning around. All Laeho could do was watch. Unless… Maybe he could still save his brother, before he did something stupid. Laeho watched Areon go into his room, and Laeho waited in the hall. He stepped into his room when Areon’s door opened again. 

Laeho had only seen Areon like this once before, when he’d fallen in love with a sailor girl, and tried to sneak away from the peninsula stowed away on her ship. He’d wanted an adventure, but he’d been discovered before the boat even launched. She’d left, and he’d stayed, and it had broken his heart. 

Areon was in love again, or at least he thought he was. Laeho could tell. 

Laeho walked to Areon’s room and opened his door, before he even knew what he was doing. There were multiple sets of raged beggar clothing in Areon’s dresser, so Laeho grabbed one of them. He changed quickly, knowing he would regret this. But at least he wouldn’t be alone. 

Laeho was able to slip out of the house without any servants noticing, and he was fast enough that he caught sight of Areon walking away from the house. He scooped up some dirt which he scrubbed into his clean curly blonde hair, making him look less clean. Laeho followed Areon at a distance, and was careful to keep his eyes fixed on him. The main square was crowded, but Laeho still felt unsettled. He felt exposed. He really hoped this would be worth it. 

Areon walked quickly through the streets, looking back every few seconds but not seeming to notice Laeho. Soon the crowds started thinning out, and Laeho had to follow at a greater distance to avoid being seen. Briefly Areon’s eyes flicked over him, but he didn’t even recognize Laeho. Laeho realized that he’d never worn anything other than his tailored clothing, because he’d never been one to sneak out onto the streets like Areon. He still didn’t understand the appeal of being completely and totally forgettable. Eyes passed over him like he was nobody, and even in a street of people who saw him as an equal, he was completely alone. He felt removed from it all. He’d never be one of them. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t walk these streets with his head held high. He knew who he was. 

Still he was becoming less nervous, and more outright scared as he followed Areon into the poorer parts of the city. He could feel eyes watching him from the alleyways. They didn’t watch him like they would if they knew who he was, but he could sense the beggars and thieves all asking themselves the same question: What could I get from him?

Laeho shivered. Maybe he should just go tell Areon he was following. He didn’t like feeling alone. He didn’t like a single bit of this. He was starting to question his decision to come at all. He’d always been impulsive, but this had the potential to actually get him hurt.

Areon knocked on the door of an older building that looked like it’d been abandoned a long time ago, and Laeho stopped walking to watch from far enough away that Areon wouldn’t notice him. What was he doing here? The door opened, and someone let Areon inside. LAeho took another step forward. Was Areon in danger?

“You’d better have a really good reason for spying on us,” a voice said. Laeho’s blood froze, and he turned and saw a kid who looked a lot younger than him leaning against the building. The boy smiled at Laeho’s look of surprise.

“‘dey always post a lookout when some’ting important’s going on. You shoulda stayed hidden.” The boy smiled again, then whistled. Two more boys walked out of the alley beside the house Areon was in. They looked much burlier than the lookout, and they both carried long knives. Laeho was frozen with fear. He’d come here to keep an eye on his brother, but who was going to save him?

“Which gang are ya part of?” The lookout asked.

“I’m not part of a gang,” Laeho stammered. “I was just waiting for…” Laeho trailed off. “I didn’t mean to bother you,” he said instead. 

“Do you have a family?” The kid asked.

“I’m an orphan,” Laeho said nervously. “I have no family, and I’m not worth anything to you.” Maybe they would let him go if they didn’t think he was anyone important. He couldn’t afford to let them take him and demand a ransom. Why had he thought this was a good idea?

The lookout glanced at the other two boys. “Is’sat good enough for you?” He asked. One of them nodded, the other shrugged. 

“It’ll do,” said a new voice, and out of the shadows stepped an Obsidian Sentinel. Laeho’s jaw dropped. He’d seen the sentinels roaming the streets before, the king had some sort of deal with them, but he’d never even heard one speak. They just walked along silently, in their black obsidian armor. There were all sorts of legends surrounding them, but Laeho didn’t wait to find out what this one wanted with him. Laeho turned, and ran.

“Wait!” the sentinel called. Laeho barely heard him. He should have talked to his father about this a long time ago. He just needed to find his way back.

Laeho glanced back and saw the Obsidian Sentinel was following him, more quickly than Laeho would have expected. He would have assumed that the obsidian armor would slow the sentinel down, but the man seemed as spry as ever. 

The lookout followed the sentinel—though he was a bit slower. He didn’t look the slightest bit surprised at the appearance of the Obsidian Sentinel. Laeho wondered why they were chasing him. Why did he matter to them, there was no way they knew who he really was! 

“Stop him,” the Obsidian Sentinel grumbled to the kid beside him. The kid nodded, and raised a hand. Then the world fell silent. No chirping birds or distant voices. It was like a blanket of silence had fallen over the entire city. Then Laeho felt his arms get suddenly weak. They became too heavy for him to hold up, and they fell limp at his side. Laeho tried to call for help, but he couldn’t seem to make any sound. 

“I swear you’ll thank us later,” the Obsidian Sentinel said as Laeho fell to his knees. “I’m sorry about this.” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Three

Laeho woke up feeling disoriented. He felt like he’d fallen asleep in the middle of the day, and he was waking up to a dark evening instead of the bright morning. He was lying on a comfortable bed, though he could tell it wasn’t his. 

Laeho was used to being disoriented, though he wasn’t used to the headache he currently had. He strained his mind to remember what the last thing he’d done was. Was the duel already over? Had he slept through it? Where was Areon? Laeho finally opened his eyes to examine his surroundings. He was greeted by a familiar bedroom. It was his bedroom, and evening sunlight streamed through the window. He could hear carriages driving through the streets below his house, and a servant spoke quietly right outside his door.

Everything lined up. Except this wasn’t his bed. And everything felt almost too normal. Where was his father, yelling at him for missing the duel? And where was Areon?

Laeho rolled off the bed, falling into a crouch. He walked carefully over to the window, and peered out. Outside he could see people walking, and he could almost make out their features…

Laeho cried out, and leapt away from the window. 

The people walking below didn’t have faces. Otherwise they looked normal, but where their faces were supposed to be there was only a blur. He risked another glance out the window, and was greeted by the same sight. This time he just stared, trying to ensure his mind was comprehending the sight below him properly. One of the people looked up, and waved. Laeho just gaped. 

Laeho stumbled away from the window, and quickly walked over to his washroom. He threw open the door, and worked up his courage to look into the black mirror. 

His face was normal. Laeho breathed a sigh of relief, though the feeling was short-lived. What was going on?

“You’re already up?” said the voice of one of his manservants. 

“Yeah,” Laeho said, unable to tear his eyes away from his mirror. “Can you look out the window for me?”

“Of… course, my lord.” The manservant said, sounding confused. “A very nice view, my lord.” The manservant said a moment later.

“Yes of course, but do you notice anything off about it?”

Laeho turned to his servant, and froze. His servant was faceless too. His face was nothing more than a blur, and his hair was strange too. It looked like it was constantly changing color, fading between brown and black and blonde.

“‘Off’ my lord?” the servant asked, as if nothing was wrong. 

Laeho ran. He opened his door, and spirited away down the hall. This wasn’t real. This was some sort of dream, or hallucination. Where in Penaral is Areon! 

“I’ve been in here countless times, and never have I seen anything like this,” a voice said slowly. Laeho slowed, looking around. 

“Hello?” he said nervously. “Who said that?” 

“I’m sure you’re feeling very confused, as you should. But it takes most people a little longer to notice the inconsistencies in the illusion. I’m impressed. Then again, the inconsistencies in yours are a little more prominent than usual.”

Laeho started running again, but the voice just laughed. 

“I have some questions for you, ‘my lord.’ Running seems counterintuitive for the time being, though I’m happy to wait for you to realize that on your own if you’d rather.”

Laeho paused uneasily. “Show yourself,” he commanded. “If you know who I am then you’ll know what’ll happen if you don’t start explaining yourself right now!”

“But I don’t know who you are,” the voice responded, “and that’s what makes you interesting. But I suppose it’s only fair that you get to see reality. Welcome to Chanevera.”

The name seemed almost resonant. Laeho could have sworn it sent vibrations through the room. It felt ancient, and full of secrets. Then the walls began to crumble. The tapestries on the walls burned away, and the windows darkened. The carpet disappeared, replaced with a floor that was black and reflective. Through the windows Laeho could see new buildings appearing, replacing the familiar ones. Every street and every building matched the one that Laeho currently stood within. It was a city. And it was made entirely of obsidian.

Chanevera faced west, and when the sun set, the buildings of Chanevera sparkled. 

There was nothing more beautiful than the glint of the crimson light off the obsidian that made up the city. And yet despite the picturesque beauty of the unfolding scene, Shale stood completely alone. She was the only one in the entire city brave enough to face the darkening sky.

Every evening, just before the red sunset faded to black, the entire city fell into silence. It felt abandoned, with nobody to watch the light melt away. Nobody except Shale. 

She blinked as the wind blew into her squinting eyes. It tossed her blonde hair as she stared into the fading sky. She knew that because of the empty streets, nobody would ever see her tears. She felt alone, but more than that, she felt scared. All she could think of was the final promise from her best friend. 

“I can save you.”

In her hand she carried two notes. One was for her brother, Yoran. The other for her friend. Both were signed with her name, but Shale had no idea what either note said. It wasn’t her hand that had written them. She hoped they were goodbye letters, but she suspected something more. A final gambit that could save her world. But it wouldn’t save Shale. It couldn’t save her, no matter what her friend said.

Before the light was gone, Shale Zoura was going to be killed. And she was the only one who knew it.

 

*  *  *

 

Dear Yoran,

I’ve figured it out. Everything is finally falling into place. 

I know their secret. 

There’s an ancient evil deep beneath the surface of this city, and I found it. I found them. Another cult, one much more ancient than the others. They call themselves ‘The Isochronism.’ Most people think they’re just a myth, but they’re real, and their plans for this city are more terrifying than you could ever imagine.

Tonight I am going to find them. I’m going to finally uncover the secrets that have been hidden for thousands and thousands of years. What could be more valuable than a secret? Something that nobody knows, except me. 

I just need time. Give me time, and this will all make sense. No matter what happens, remember that I’m here for you. And even if I don’t make it back, I’m here with you. You’re the greatest brother I could ever ask for. 

 

From: Shale Zoura

 

Yoran wrinkled the note, grabbed an obsidian helmet from his bedside table, and slid it over his head. There was a satisfying click as the helmet snapped into place. The inside of the helmet was as black as midnight, and it made the darkness even darker. The slits in the edge of the helmet restricted his vision enough that he couldn’t see immediately to his left or right, just straight ahead. But even though it obscured his vision, it also hid his face from anyone who might see him. They wouldn’t see the fear in his eyes, or the worry scrawled on his face. Instead, they’d see a knight, a sentinel. A foe that couldn’t be destroyed, who could destroy anything with the mere wave of a hand. He wasn’t weak, and he never had been. He would find his sister, no matter what. She’d only been missing for two days, and that meant he could still save her.

He reached into the pouch concealed on his belt and pulled out a single sphere. He threw it violently against his wall, and when it broke, the air split in half. White fire tore through space and time, opening a pathway to a citadel outside of reality, a crossroads that could take him anywhere.

When he finally stepped out into the night, walking the streets of the peninsula, he was getting impatient. He should have done this a long time ago. There was only one place Shale could be, and that was with her outsider friend, a boy who didn’t even know that magic was real. Shale trusted him. Maybe she’d sent him a note too. Or maybe she was even with him. 

Yoran wasn’t sure how he’d find the boy yet. For now, all he had was a name. Areon. 

 

*  *  *

 

Areon pulled his ragged shawl tighter around his shoulders, staring off into the darkness. He walked with purpose, happy to be alone. During the day, he spent time with his brother, but during the night, he found freedom in the darkness. Nobody here knew who he really was. They didn’t see him as a prince, but as another survivor. The thieves and beggars that walked the streets respected him. They’d still betray him if he ever trusted any of them, but they didn’t hate him. Not like they hated the nobles. 

Areon was feeling especially angry tonight. He’d tried talking to his father about the disappearances again, but just like last time, his father had said that the disappearances weren’t his problem. Areon was scared. He was scared of whoever was making the people of his city go missing, and he was scared of the masked man who he’d spotted watching him. 

Tonight, Areon was going to act. He was only a step under a prince; His father controlled most of the peninsula’s armada, making his family one of the most important ones on the peninsula. He had the power to do something about the people whom nobody cared about. He had to care, because he was the only one who ever would. It was up to him to save them. Beggars and orphans had been vanishing for weeks—or perhaps much longer—and Areon wanted to know why. It was always people without family or friends, people who didn’t matter to important families. 

Areon froze. Someone was watching him. The entire night suddenly seemed deathly quiet. No seagulls screeching or wind blowing. He didn’t move. He didn’t want to look behind him and see that unnatural obsidian mask, with its single red eye, that had lurked just out of his vision for so long. 

A white flash of lightning split the air, followed immediately by a crack of thunder. Areon jumped backward, and out of the shadows stepped an Obsidian Sentinel. It wasn’t the masked man. It was just one of the mysterious sentinels that roamed the city under the direction of the king.

“Areon,” the man yelled. 

Areon looked up at the sentinel’s helmet, squinting. 

“What do you want?” he asked. 

“I want to know where my sister is,” the man said. “My name is Yoran Zoura. And if you don’t answer my questions, I will not hesitate to destroy you.”

Yoran raised a hand, and it began to glow with white light. Areon’s eyes widened. It was impossible. It was magic. That was supposed to be a myth, a story reserved for the long nights of fishing. This couldn’t be real. 

 

*  *  *

 

The masked man stood over Shale’s broken body, a clean knife in his hand. He stood deep beneath the city of Chanevera. These tunnels weren’t like the rest of the city. They were catacombs, ancient and abandoned long ago. They didn’t look like what catacombs should look like, though. That just made them all the more terrifying for those who didn’t know the truth about them. 

He took a step forward, his boots sinking into the carpet that covered the entire catacombs. The carpet muffled all sound, making the catacombs completely silent. Then the masked man knelt and plunged his knife into Shale’s body. It all began tonight. The beginning of the end. Chanevera would fall. It had to. There was nobody who could stop it now. The only person who could have ever stopped them was Shale.

He yanked his knife out of her body and didn’t even bother to wipe off the blood. 

Nobody knew who he was, and he just had to ensure it stayed that way. 

Steal a man's wallet, he'll be poor for a week.

Teach a man to be a writer, he'll be poor for the rest of his life.