"Hey, I noticed you're always alone. What's with that?" Launa asked the eating ghost of Jean Rostand High School.

  The ghost turned around, her shallow brown eyes bearing into the intruder.

  "You're always alone, too. I don't see how you can judge."

  Launa smiled. She didn't know why she was so happy the girl knew who she was.

  "Oh, I'm not judging." She sat down next to her, ignoring her frown. "I thought that, since we're alone anyway, might as well be alone together."

  The girl shrugged. "As long as you don't expect us to be friends."

  "Great! What's your name?"

  The girl looked taken aback by Launa's enthusiasm, she turned her head back to her food, and Launa thought that would be it, but-

  "Lys."

  CHAPTER 1

  LYS

  Does anything spark regret more than the sight of blood?

  Virgin walls tainted with the sinful fluid. Hate and despair oozing from each drop, the cruel echo resonating inside her bones. The silence, the quietness of being the only one left breathing. Tainted by the scarlet, yet unharmed. Alive, yet with a heart aching of death. The hopeful saviour, yet the executor. There were a lot of things Lys didn't understand, but in that room full of silence and blood, she felt she understood enough. So she did what she knew best.

  She ran.

  Running seems easy, but is an acquired skill, an expert combination of denial and tunnel vision; one Lys had been honing all her life. If she never questioned anything, never looked back, she could pretend everything was as it should be. A usual day, in a usual life. Even when that life tumbled down a cliff, hitting one too many branches along the way. Running had saved her life many times. When she had lost everything and her night sky now hosted two moons more than she was used to, she continued. Keeping ahead. Never looking back.

  The thing about running however, is that no matter how strong you think you are, and how smooth the road ahead seems to be, life finds a way to place a thorn wall bigger than you could hope to cross unharmed.

  For Lys, that wall came as a single name scribbled on a flower. An unexpected answer to a hopeless wish.

  It was the busiest evening of the year in Henalda's capital. The rumble of people seemed to shake even the mountain the city was built on. From her humble home hidden in a long-abandoned watchtower, she could see the blazing, crackling shape of the Bog. The wooden effigy was swarmed with spectators eager to see it burn to the ground, letting the people bid farewell to summer with its crumbling smile.

  Fire Dancers were its executors, their smiles bursting with joy, and their limbs bursting with flames. Music was its tormentor, as the Dancers and spectators sang and danced in harmony, Dancers breathing more flames onto the smoking reddening wood with every movement.

  "And may our glorious General protect us once more during the darkness of winter." They sang.

  It smiled its wooden smile through it all, pleasing its crowd, keeping them safe and warm, until even it would fall to the celebrated flames.

  Sometimes, Lys did stop, for a few moments.

  She thought some sights were worth lingering on.

  This night was one of them. The three moons had ran up the sky from beyond the mountains of The Great Divide, joining in Rasphira's glee, tasting the rising smoke. From below, where the superior mountain soil deigned to meet lower ground, no one could see the sights of the city. Only the moons could see the black sod stone of the streets glimmer as their light hit it. As if this was the only time it could breathe, far from the blinding light of the sun, a sight rivaling the stars forming itself on the mountain balcony.

  Only the moons, and Lys.

  Residents had dressed for the night. Garbs riddled with small mirrors which reflected the streets they walked on, every participant a walking constellation. Lys had never owned such a garb. Those were clothes worn by those who could afford to be seen. And since the day she had appeared in Henalda, being seen was the one thing she couldn't risk. Her wardrobe was black as a moonless sky. She would wear out cloak after cloak, a blindfold her one companion since the moment she learned to Dance with Air and known how to feel the world. The moment the blindfold left her, she could see her face.

  Staring at her.

  On every wall of the country.

  Next to a choir of warning posters singing in perfect harmony : "They are among us. Do not be fooled. Reporting is Protecting." laid the face of the eighteen-year-old who had been brought here three years ago. Lys hadn't had access to a mirror in a long time, but she knew how different she had to be now. How survival had traced her skin, running tarnished the light in her eyes, loneliness dug a cozy place into her heart.

  She had lingered too long.

  She wasn't lonely. She was fine. She was doing what she had to do.

  She had to keep moving.

  Lys allowed herself one last look at the Bog. Thinking of the foolishness she had displayed earlier that day. There was a tradition, you see, she had only learnt of after she had seen her second Bog burning. Starting when the figure was set in place on the morning of the ceremony, citizens were allowed to write wishes on the polished wood. These would then burn and float to be heard by the Spirit of Fire, who, in its eternal whimsy, would either grant or ignore it.

  And what human could resist a wish.

  So Lys had found herself hidden in a crowd, coal pen burning her hand, to write five small words. There's always a duality to wishes. The will to hope and yet not hope too much. Lys didn't allow herself to hope, but she did anyway. As she watched the waltzing embers fly into the black sky, it was harder than she thought to turn away.

  Gliding down the narrow tower, she heard a familiar sound. A voice full of the wisdom only age can bring carried out into the street, inciting curious children to drag the hands of their parents. She counted tales of great battles between good and evil, about saviours setting the universe back into its rightful place. Lys listened to her every story religiously, drifting away to playful mystical lands, bringing them home to reside in her dreams, wishing she could live in them.

  Because anything was better than living in Henalda.

  She dropped next to her, silent as a cloud. Most would be startled by the black, hidden form, but Martha had grown as used to it as to the dismissive steps of people before her.

  "You're not going to go enjoy the festival?" Lys asked as she sat next to the woman, throwing a few copper coins in her red woven cap. She enjoyed sitting next to her. Martha gave off a familiar motherly feel, one that reminded her of a full meal and hot chocolate.

  "Festivals are not for me. Once you see the bigger picture, you learn to sit back and watch it all come together." She sat readjusting her light shawl around her strong shoulders. She did it with a delicacy which always surprised the Air Dancer. "How about you?" She asked, though she already knew the answer.

  Lys let out a small laugh. "If you let me borrow your face, maybe."

  "I'm sure a lot of people's wish is to be able to see you one day." Martha lowered her voice to barely a whisper. "The legendary wanted woman; hunted by every soldier alive for an unknown crime. I'm hurt you still haven't shared it with me. After all the talks we've had."

  The Air Dancer raised her eyebrows in exasperation. "Our dear Lord General needs to share it with me first. He wasn't polite enough to knock on my nonexistent door and explain why he decided to make me unable to show my face in public."

  Martha grinned, looking up at the golden statue of General Avriel which looked down on all the festival-goers on Victory Way. It flickered along with the flames of the Bog, making its empty eyes look almost alive. "I wish he had, just so I could witness it with my own eyes. That arrogant tyrant being polite? I would gladly wage all my remaining years to anyone who could make it possible."

  The old woman's grin spread to Lys. "Careful there, I wouldn't want you to join me on all those walls. I don't think there would be enough space for the two of us."

  Martha's fingers wobbled with greed. "Then maybe I should turn you in, then there would be plenty of space for me."

  "Fair point." Lys said, shrugging. "Wasn't the reward money increased recently?"

  Martha nodded. "One hundred thousand gold pieces starting from last week."

  Lys let out a low whistle. "Do you think I could buy the city with that much?"

  "Just about three times over." The older woman hummed.

  Lys looked up at the city around them, narrowing her eyes. "I should find a way to turn myself in and keep the money."

  Martha laughed. "Speaking of money, why are you still here? Don't you have a job to do?"

  Lys glanced towards the eastern mountains. "I do have a meeting, though there's no exchange of money."

  "It's an important one then," the old woman said, raising an eyebrow.

  "I keep hoping it's going to be", the Air Dancer sighed. "Hope keeps us alive, right?"

  Martha's smile reeked of maternal love, and she gleefully waved as Lys left her next to her red woven cap, new stories forming in her mind.

  Lys rushed east, jumping from roof to roof, grazing the slicked surface of the city. Hidden in the dark of the night. Just a black spot gone from sight faster than you could blink. She jumped over the city walls, towards the imposing summits of the mountains of A'lu. She flew above a narrow peak, and, for a moment, she was truly on top of the world, staring down at The Great Divide between the two halves of the country. She turned her back towards the far away ground, eyes stuck to the moons and the stars.

  And she let herself fall.

  She lived for the rush of adrenaline from the fall. Her stomach would rise up to the heavens, her nerves thrive from the pressure and the slap of the wind, and for a few seconds, she felt something.

  She fell between huddled tree life, like children hiding a secret, and stopped herself just above a body of water. It was shy. If you called it a lake, it would blush, and think of the compliment during the darkest nights. It was a pond with dreams.

  Thin trees drew delicate shadows on its surface. A little crook where the forest allowed itself to breathe. Lys floated above it for a moment, her air blurring the trees' drawing. Her eyes took breath as she took away her blindfold. She could barely see her reflection. With her deeply tanned skin and ink stained hair, she was but a dark shape of a woman blocking out the stars.

  She did see something else, however.

  If anyone asked, the blindfold was to hide herself. If anyone looked, they would see the blindfold was to hide the world. One thing in particular.

  The White Shape.

  The sight made her stomach twist. The snow ethereal firmly stuck to the foreground of her life. Whether it be night, day, rain, sun, storm, sea, it was always there. Not shining, but existing above anything else around it. It laughed at light, making its own, and even in the dark nights when Lys wore her blindfold to bed, a sliver of snow light reached her eyes.

  The same snow which coloured her irises.

  How she hated them.

  "Well, I think they're beautiful."

  Lys clung to the words like a lifeline, a nostalgic voice fueling her hope. Maybe if I repeat them enough, she thought, I'll start to believe them.

  "And I thought I was going to be early for once." A deep honeyed voice came from her right. It tried to hide it, but Lys didn't miss the gentle affection which had weaved itself into it as their meetings grew more numerous.

  Béryl strolled towards her, all dark of skin and fire red colouring his uniform. Lys had heard his features had made him quite the popular man in these parts, but she wasn't one to understand such matters. She watched his face rock from ease to anxiety. A smile and an eye kept behind his back. A soldier meeting with her was risking more than he could imagine, but they were both past the point of truly caring.

  "Maybe next time." She teased, floating to meet solid ground.

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  "Do you have anything for me?"

  "I do, in fact." She said, handing him the documents inside her bag. "All the accounts you asked me for. The director was trading with the black market. I'll let you do your thing."

  He took the documents with practiced ease, grinning as he imagined his upcoming promotion. "As effective as always," he said.

  "I have a reputation to uphold." She said with a half-grin. "Now, your turn." She couldn't care less about the shady activities happening in the city. All she wanted was information.

  "I went back to New-Sher, where they were last seen, in case something new had popped up. I walked into the ruins of their house, but didn't find much. Just..." He rummaged in his pocket to find a single flower, "this, in a corner. It couldn't have been there more than a few days, so it must be from someone they know."

  Lys took the small white and gold flower in her hand. A narcissus. She turned it around to observe every angle. She knew what it represented, but not what it was doing there.

  "There was a sentence written next to it," Béryl continued. "I don't know if it'll ring any bells to you. It said 'I still think they're beautiful'."

  Lys frowned until she saw a cursive trace hidden in the crook of the bloom. The delicate lines struggled to come together, but still formed a clear name.

  Launa

  I still think they're beautiful.

  The Air Dancer's heart dropped. She could feel the earth shattering beneath her feet, and her legs had a right mind to tease her falling at any second. Her heart beat like an angry army, taking her stomach as a war hostage.

  No. Stop. Stop hoping. We've been over this. She told herself. She kept reading the name. Maybe if she read it enough times it would shift into something else, and then she could laugh about it with friends saying: Have you ever wanted something so much you started to hallucinate? Happened to me once.

  The soldier didn't miss the falter in her expression. In the two years they had known each other, he had never known her to show any sign of vulnerability. "So, are you going to tell me why you look like you've been slammed in the face with a hammer?" He asked, trying to keep the conversation playful but it was hard to hide the anticipation in his voice.

  "I-uhm" Lys remained speechless. Béryl's anticipation turned to concern as he frowned, studying his informant's face.

  "Lys. We have a deal. If you know anything you have to tell me."

  She looked back up to him, her eyes wide like a cornered mouse, but quickly turned her gaze back to the flower.

  "No, this has nothing to do with it, this is... personal." Her quiet voice was in a rush, processing the information. "It might even be nothing-" She started pacing. "I mean- No. But maybe? It can't be. Right?"

  Béryl frowned. "If this is an act just so you won't give me the information I swear I-"

  "No!" She cut him off. "Please don't, I'm already confused as it is I- I need time to process this."

  "No," he argued, grabbing her arm. "If you know anything, you have to tell me. Remember our deal."

  He looked at her with the determined eyes of a soldier. Of one who was prepared to betray the way he was brought up and common sense itself to team up with Lys and get what he wanted.

  She looked back at him, a fake calm reigning over her face. She just wanted to go and think alone. "If I find anything, I'll bring it tomorrow, like always."

  Béryl squeezed her arm tighter. "Promise me," he said, staring straight into her snow-white eyes.

  Lys smiled. "Looks like you got used to my eyes now."

  "Don't try to change the subject." He growled.

  "Not too long ago, you would turn away when I looked at you."

  "Lys!"

  Startled birds flew away from the screaming, and something akin to true silence fell over the pair of them. The Air Dancer smiled again, repeating with a soft voice, almost motherly.

  "If I find anything, I'll bring it tomorrow, like always."

  Béryl almost looked like he believed her.

  "Tomorrow, without fail. You know what will happen if you break our contract," he said.

  Lys put her right hand on the soldier's shoulder.

  "I'll see you tomorrow," she lied.

  * * *

  Lys didn't know why she was running, nor her destination. Realisation came when she ran past the golden statue of the man who ruined her life. His eyes had lost the flicker of flames and looked gleefully empty. Her eyes found the wreckage of the Bog, a few scoops of ashes with some wood scraps sprinkled on top. She tore off her blindfold, pushing away the White to gaze into the scraps.

  And then she saw it.

  There, on a piece of charred wood not much bigger than her own hands, were the five words she had shamelessly written.

  They read:

  "I want to see Launa."

  "What the hell." She muttered, bringing the wood up to her closed eyes. "It didn't even burn." She almost laughed at the irony.

  She looked up at the three moons, one of them dangerously close to the edge of the world, the symbol of the impossibility of ever seeing Launa again.

  Launa was in another plane, where Lys had once lived. There, Elemental Dancing was a pipe dream, cities suffocated under concrete, and a solitary moon monopolised the night sky.

  She knew she was far from being an anomaly. Others had come to Henalda from their own worlds before her, and many would come after. But Lys had never allowed herself to dream that maybe, maybe the one person she missed the most would do the same.

  "Hey!" A strong voice came from behind her. She turned by instinct. "What are you-" The guard stopped when he saw a glimpse of her face.

  Shit. She thought. She quickly put her blindfold back on and rushed back to the heights of the Capital, leaving the confused man behind. He was soon joined by another.

  "I thought I saw Lys." He muttered, in shock.

  His other soldier scoffed. "Stop drinking during your shift Grug."

  Martha tried not to be startled by the black shape which landed beside her as she was walking home, but her tired mind wasn't expecting the sudden visit. The figure stood before her, holding a small piece of charred wood. She waited for her to talk, but after a few moments of silent let out a fond sigh.

  "Would you like some tea?" She asked, voice soft and inviting.

  Lys nodded, following the old woman home without saying a word. They walked through the shimmering streets until they reached the lower quarters, the core and scum of the city. Houses not raised to the sky, but carved into the ground by hands who only knew how to do just that. The original settlement of miners who came looking for the rare black stone, and left their dark holes to shimmering houses.

  This was where the Capital was born, and where you could now only look down at its new residents.

  The interior of Martha's house was as warm and calming as her voice. The main room which acted as a kitchen and living room invited her in with its fireside heart full of cushions on a fuzzy carpet. It smelled of Martha, of warmth, and of safety. It felt nostalgic, like the home of a loving couple which was only rivaled by the Bog in its fiery exit. But Béryl's discovery there seemed to open a door she had never allowed herself to open.

  "It feels weird to see you inside." Lys sank into the heart, a cushion for every worry. She let herself see the steam escaping her tea, pointedly ignoring the White inspecting the room like a kid with their new toy.

  The old woman grinned. "Do I lose my beauty when I'm not under the moonlight?"

  The Air Dancer couldn't resist a smile. "You could never."

  "So, did you come here just to point out how strange I look in the candlelight or are we going to get to the reason why you look like a kicked puppy?"

  Lys winced. "When you didn't say anything on the way here I was kinda hoping you would go the 'you don't have to talk if you don't have to' route."

  Martha stirred her tea with a grace that felt out of place in this corner of the city. "Dear, if you're going to take up my sleeping hours to talk about nothing then I demand at least half of your reward money."

  "What, so you can buy a city and a half?"

  Martha shrugged. "You know we get greedy when we get old."

  The Air Dancer stared at her tea, the charred wood on fire again in her peripheral vision. "So," she started, not really knowing how, "hypothetical situation."

  The older woman rolled her eyes. "Of course."

  "Hypothetical situation," she insisted, "imagine, you were just living your life, and then someone came along and took you to a very, very far place. And it's hell for a bit. Well, more than a bit. But... you get used to it. You live on. You do things you're not...proud...of, just to keep going, and even though you're used to the new environment, there's just people you can't forget. You try not to think about them because you know it's useless, but then..." Lys swallowed. The words danced on her tongue, begging to be brought to the real world. "What if there was a possibility that you might see them again?"

  Martha hummed. "Drop everything and rush to see them?"

  The Air Dancer placed her cup on the ground, turning to face the other woman, hands drawing masterpieces along with her words. "What if it's not them though? What if it's just you creating impossible scenarios in your head? What if you go and involve yourself in something big just because you naively believed in a fantasy?"

  Martha frowned. "You're making an awful lot of excuses just for confirming someone's identity. Do you not want it to be them?"

  Lys averted her gaze to the floor, but the charred wood still burned. "I don't know."

  "What are you afraid of, dear?"

  There were flashes of red. Flashes of two rooms melding together in her mind. All walls turned scarlet. One filled with screams, the other with silence. Bodies laid across the both floors.

  In too many of her nightmares, one of them was Launa's.

  She looked up to meet Martha's eyes, a glint of concern lacing them. "Too many things."

  * * *

  The moons were long gone, but the sun still enjoyed every slow second of darkness's company. Lys sat on the eastern city walls, staring at A'lu. Beyond the mountains stood the place Béryl had found the flower, stood Launa.

  Possibly.

  Possibly.

  Launa was an old family picture. Something to look at, to remember, never to relive. And yet...

  Possibly.

  She raised her hand in front of her, fully aware of the squeezing in her chest when she thought: I'm an arm's length closer to her now. She only had to jump.

  But terror made her retract her hand.

  She could just turn back. Erase the lie she had told Béryl. He would ask "What did you find?" and she would say "Nothing."

  Nothing at all.

  She would go back to her life in the dark, in the night, beneath her blindfold. Stealing to survive, living as the breeze that flew in the unspeakable parts of the city. She was used to it. It was easy.

  Anything was easier than getting herself to move from the wall.

  "You're finally thinking of leaving?"

  She turned her head, and saw a man flashing red.

  She could still hear it clear as day, his gasp. The subtle sound which filled the space behind her, chasing the silence she had created in the underground room. She still had nightmares of the expression on his face once he had realised what she had done.

  It was the last thing she had seen of him before she ran.

  This time, she studied him. She caught demanding brown eyes and well-fed flesh. He still walked as if every stone his feet touched became his by right, and his voice lost none of the affection it had in her memories.

  Lys nodded, stuck in another dilemma. To stay or to leave? Both seemed as impossible as the other.

  "They miss you, you know? Jina keeps asking if we've seen you around."

  "Hyx..." She started.

  Hyx raised his hand in capitulation. "I know I'm probably the last person you want to see today, but if whatever you're about to do doesn't work out for you, know that there are people who will gladly welcome you back." He smiled. "And of course, I'll be around too."

  Lys squeezed her hands in fists, feeling the crescents burn. "You know it's not that simple."

  Hyx's smile dropped along with his gaze. "I've changed. The whole group has changed. We won't get into a mess like that again, I promise."

  "I haven't changed," she said.

  "So you're running away?"

  Lys stayed silent. Explanations came and went on her lips, but none had enough belief to make it out.

  "I don't know what I'm doing," she whispered. But in the stillness of the night, her leader was able to hear her loud and clear.

  Hyx sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand. "Fine, run away all you want." He said with a hint of bitterness.

  She looked at him, wide-eyed. He continued.

  "When you're done running, knock on our door. Well, we don't have a door, but you know what I mean. You better bring sweets." He said, turning away towards the stairs leading into the city streets.

  "Make sure you don't die before then," she said, finding the strength to muster a small smile.

  "Ha!" He exclaimed as he kept walking. "If they haven't killed me by now, they'll never kill me!" Waving his left hand in an elegant twist, he headed down the steps, leaving a smiling Lys in his trail.

  She looked back at the city.

  She looked back at the mountains.

  And she flew.

  She flew over the shivering peaks, playing with tree tops as she glided down the right arm of the cerulean mountains. She could feel the sun attacking her eyes as it finally took its job seriously, felt its heat seep through her dark clothes. She couldn't tell if she was overheating due to the sun or from the rush of what she was about to do. New-Sher met her eagerly, its fields of flowers shining and opening as it welcomed the morning. It would never shimmer in the moons' light as the capital did, but the sun favoured it regardless. Houses stood short but proud, never sticking to each other, letting the village's breath pass between them. They dialogued with eager flowers and bright smells.

  Her eyes lingered.

  She remembered the summer she once had, littered with eager flowers. When their relationship was seen as a 'bother' and Launa's phone was forced to spend its days sleeping in a kitchen drawer.

  "This will be our signal." Launa had said, flower in her hand and mischief in her eyes. "Leave it on the edge of my kitchen window, and I'll sneak out and find you."

  Lys smiled at the distant memory, pressing the replay button over and over again. She could almost feel Launa's hand on hers as she handed her the small flower.

  Feet firmly on a rooftop as was their rightful place, Lys spotted the sunken square. The walls hid behinds green vines growing to the sound of water splashing in the fountain filling the space. With its sign only made visible by a rough hacking of the green wall, stood John's Potion shop. The only stop Lys had made all those years ago before her temporary home had burst into flames. She couldn't imagine anybody else who knew of her connection to it.

  Lys flinched as the shop door opened and a mop of red hair rushed out into the square, a basket of potions in hand. She felt as if she was looking at the burning charred wood again, but it was moving, swaying with each step her dream took. She couldn't look away, terrified the woman might disappear if she even blinked.

  "Launa wait! You forgot a basket!" John, straight out of her memory, came out of the shop, handing another straw basket to the young woman. She smiled, throwing Lys's world in disarray, her voice as she thanked the elder man dealing the finishing blow.

  The gentle voice shifted in Lys's ears, forming nostalgic words. "Well, I think they're beautiful."