Home. I am home. It feels empty without Dante beside me, but I look up and see all four moons shining in the sky. I have not been gone long, then.
The ground beneath my feet feels…strange. It is almost as though I am floating above it, though that is not possible. We have no wings. We are not like…them. The ones who live in the sky beyond.
When I glance down, I see my claws digging into the dirt, and I know that it is real.
And yet, everything feels strange. I am in my village, and I do not know how I got here. There are no fires burning, no songs, no Vyastil. My people have disappeared.
I turn the corner and see a familiar Vyastil staring off into the distance. His short, pink hair is wild from the wind, and when he turns, his gaze narrows.
“Cielo. This is your fault.”
I blink at him.
“You ruined yourself, and you ruined us.”
“Zynath.” His name slips from my lips like familiar air currents. He and I were hatched during the same breedingseason. We were both deemed useless to the capital, and we were sent to the Outerlands—to work the fields before we were chosen for our strength to serve as guards.
He is my brother in almost every way. My brother just as Luca is to Dante. Perhaps not blood, but we have been together since taking our first inhale of Eretharian air.
And now he looks at me with…it is not hate. It is regret. Disappointment.
Sadness.
That is worse than hate, I think.
“What happened?”
“Punishment,” he says. “We are starving. Dying.”
I open my mouth to ask what for, but his form shimmers, and then he is gone. I’m no longer in the village. I am in the singing caves, hiding in the shadows as a Tarek works on tinctures in a large, boiling pot. I watch his tentacles move, his strong arms lift and break apart large stones to reveal the dusty, healing powder within.
This can help, though in this moment, I do not understand who needs help or why. But the desperation in my chest is heavy. Profound.
“Please,” I want to ask, but that is the moment I realize I am not here. I am not home.
This is a dream.
And I am still banished.
When I wake, the sun is high in the sky, and I find that Dante has left me alone in the apartment, a vial of cum sitting on the bedside table. The dream is haunting me still. I can feel thelingering anxiety from experiencing it. I do not know what it means, but it cannot be true. Can it?
If it is, I do not deserve even this cum. If my brothers are starving…
I close my eyes and breathe deeply. I cannot do anything about it now. I must live with my choices, and perhaps I can find a way to help. If that would not make things worse.
I peer over at the cum once more and find myself reaching for it despite telling myself to suffer.
My lips close around the vial, and my eyes close as I taste it. It is richer, more complete than what I was given when in the service of Rathyn.
I stare down into the empty bottle, a trill working in the back of my throat. I did not deserve that, but I consumed it anyway. I consumed something that cost Dante money.
Everything here on Earth has a price. Things cannot be bartered or traded for. How much is Dante paying for something so delicious? I need to find a way to earn money so I can pay him back.
I need to speak to Everest or even Rathyn, but I dislike being dependent on the charity of others. I’ve worked every day of my life. On Erethar, my people toil under the sun and moons, our hands calloused from overuse.
To sit around and do nothing is…foreign.
I find I do not like it.
