Licia’s in a place like that? Being forced to—I remembered how my voice cracked. How I couldn’t even finish the sentence. How the bile rose in my throat as I whispered,I’m gonna be sick.
And the sickness hadn’t left. I forced myself to breathe, slow and steady, even as the fire stirred just beneath my skin—hot, reckless, ready to burn the whole city down. How long had it been since she was… sold? Days? Weeks?Years?
Will tossed more coin than necessary into the driver’s palm. Somehow it worked. The man grunted and jerked his head toward the back of the carriage, and we got in. I sank into the seat, arms folded tight over my chest, trying to keep myself from shaking.
The road to Faerwyn was smoother than I expected, a quiet stretch of pale dirt and worn stone that wound its way past open plains and sprawling farmland. Sunlight dripped over the hills, catching on the wild grass and gilding the world in gold. We passed vineyards with rows so perfect they looked painted, and wide fields dotted with white flowers. The ride to Faerwyn took a few hours, we arrived sometime past noon, the sun still high in the sky as the town unfolded before us like something out of a fairytale. The wheels hummed quietly over smooth cobblestones, each turn revealing another row of pristine houses with painted shutters and flower boxes spilling over with color. It was the kind of place people dreamed about when they pictured the perfect life.
We passed a group of children racing down the sidewalk, laughing like the world had never hurt them. Their uniforms were spotless, theirshoes shined up. They didn’t know the things I knew. They hadn’t seen what I had seen. I had been one of them once, back when my biggest fear was failing exams and making new friends. When I believed monsters only lived in stories, and that I’d see them coming.
That girl was gone. She had died on the ground, in the dark, under hands that stole the breath from her lungs. Whatever was left of her had been broken apart and rebuilt into something more resilient, but colder. And no matter how bright the sun shone, it never warmed her.
The carriage rolled to a slow stop, wheels creaking as they settled against the cobblestones. Will stepped down first, tossing a few extra coins into the driver’s waiting hand. I followed, slower. My legs ached from the ride, but it wasn’t just that. It was the stillness of the place. The air smelled like fresh bread and blooming flowers. Birds chirped somewhere overhead. A couple laughed in the distance, soft, carefree. Everything felt too quiet. Too polished. Off.
Aran appeared beside me, eyes sweeping the street by instinct. One hand rested near his knife. “This is it?” he asked under his breath.
Will pointed to a carved wooden sign just ahead.
Welcome to Faerwyn.
I stared at it as unease curled through me. It wasn’t what I’d pictured. I had imagined narrow alleyways, heavy shadows, shifty men guarding doorways. I expected to see the rot on the surface. Instead, everything looked clean. Beautiful even.
“Seems like it,” I murmured.
Aran gave a dry laugh. “Maybe that man was fucking with us.”
“Let’s find out,” Will said, already scanning the street.
The longer we stayed in Faerwyn, the worse it felt. Every street was pristine. Every shopfront gleamed. The windows were dressed with lace curtains and flower boxes overflowing with color. It should’ve been comforting.
Instead, it made my skin crawl.
Will tried asking questions. First to a woman carrying a basket of bread. Then to a man unloading crates. And to a boy sweeping the street outside a bakery. He stumbled through his broken Alevi, switching between words and gestures, doing his best to be understood. But it didn’t matter. They understood him, I saw it in their eyes. They just chose not to answer. Some barely looked at us. Others gave tight, polite smiles and kept walking. Most people ignored us entirely.
I tried asking questions, too, with the same result. Not fear. Not confusion. Just... avoidance.
Like they saw us for what we were.
Outsiders.
Trouble.
Aran let out a frustrated breath, dragging a hand down his face. “It’s like we’re asking where they dump their shit or something.”
I looked around again. Bright sun. Smiling faces. Nothing wrong in sight. Which only meant the rot was buried deeper.
Another passerby avoided Will’s gaze. “Either they hate outsiders, or they hate people asking questions,” he said.
Time dragged. My feet ached. Aran finally groaned and veered off toward the most ridiculous-looking building on the street.
“I’m starving,” he muttered.
The place looked like something out of a royal fantasy, two stories tall, with dark polished wood and red velvet curtains spilling from the windows. A doorman stood out front in gloves and a tiny hat, like he thought he was guarding a palace.
“Aran, that place looks expensive,” I said, frowning.
I still didn’t know where all the money he’d been throwing around came from, maybe I didn’t want to know. Maybe he figured I wouldn’t approve of how he got it. Either way, it had to run out eventually.
“Good. If it’s expensive, it’s probably edible,” he retorted.
