Page 1 of The City Of Fractured Memory

One

Ialways thought a seer would be the one to seal my fate. I’d just always assumed it would be by one of their visions.

Not by their death.

The usually thriving street is deserted. Gone are the fiddlers playing jauntily into the early hours, the laughing children dancing and weaving through the market stalls with their streamers. Those in the city who believe in the Gods know that the death of a seer is an omen, and by Fios do I know it. I don’t often use the God of wisdom’s name in vain, but there is an occasional circumstance that calls for it. And as I make my way through the dark abandoned street in the central quarter of Eidravelle, wooden signs creaking eerily in the breeze, this is certainly one of them.

I pull my coat in tighter, the action instinctive. My body barely registers the weather anymore, completely numb to it from years of magic misuse, but I still can’t shake the muscle memory. Goosebumps sprint up my arms as the moon shifts through a break in the Veil––the deep mist that cages the city––and I am temporarily gifted with enough light to clearly see the cobblestones beneath my feet. Given my clumsy nature, I appreciate the reprieve from the darkness, even if it is only momentary. Maybe the Gods are looking out for me tonight after all, though that would be a first.

The thought vanishes as quickly as it came as I approach the crossroads and my faceless Shadow appears in my periphery.

I wondered when you would turn up.

He’s always there whenever I’m alone with my thoughts, never in full view, just in the corner of my eye, forever just out of reach–

Turn right.

The thought interrupts me abruptly as it comes unbidden into my head, in a voice other than my own. I try to ignore it, but as I go to step forward I get a sudden, irresistible urge to turn right that I can’t ignore. Another step, and I am completely overcome by a sense of overwhelming doom. I give in immediately and turn right, releasing a huge exhale as the cage of anxiety that had been pressing in on me releases like an elastic band snapping.

I should know better than to ignore him by now.

“You know this is the long way round, asshole,” I mutter to myself, and a faint sense of amusement surrounds my senses. I don’t know if it’s real or in my head, but the outcome is always the same.

I continue walking, my Shadow’s presence ever-looming behind me, until faint voices reach me from a street up ahead, fracturing the silence. As I come closer to the corner, I inhale a sharp breath as the smell of blood reaches my nose. Threads of swirling pearlescent light mark the magical barrier erected around the crime scene, and two figures stand in the shadows within, muttering under their breaths to each other. I recognise the voices instantly, and I can’t help the huff of frustration that leaves my lungs. Even in the dark their sneers are unmistakable as they turn their attention to me, but I ignore them, sidestepping their position and raising my hand to create a gap through the magical barrier.

“No entry Wren,” Silvie barks at me, barging past Lander to block my way, flicking her blonde hair. The bulking mass that is Lander stalks up behind her, enveloping us both in his huge shadow cast by the moonlight.

“Yeah, this is a closed crime scene. No entry for Dhakira scum,” he smirks.

“But I’ve been invited,” I say with a forced smile, ignoring the jibe. Sympathising with the non-magic folk doesn’t make me one of them, but defending myself is most certainly beneath me.

“You’re mistaken,” he growls, leaning further into my space.

I look him up and down pointedly, refusing to back away. “Fair enough, shall I go back to the Division then and tell the Chief that he was mistaken when he knocked on my door at 2am this morning begging for my help?”

They pause, sharing a look.

“What in the Gods’ names would make the Chief come to a clumsy, dumbass like you?” Silvie snarls. “Didn’t you get fired for incompetence?”

“I heard she went crazy from using magic,” Lander whispers overly loudly and I can’t help but roll my eyes. To the contrary, my intellect far outweighs theirs, but given that I am also blessed with humility, I decide not to point it out. Instead I tap my foot impatiently and cross my arms, waiting for the inevitable interruption of–

“Lander! Silvie! If you don’t let Octavia in this instant I’ll have you both thrown into the depths!”

Ah, right on cue Xavier.

The pair shudder simultaneously at the threat. Being thrown over the edge of the city walls into the inky black expanse of water below is perhaps the worst punishment a citizen can face in Velmora. There is no way back, the city floating two hundred feet above the deathly still surface of Lake Voyd, so it is a pretty psychotic threat. But that is Xavier all over.

I wiggle my fingers in a wave at my childhood friend as he approaches, trying and failing not to smirk when his dark eyes level a death glare at the officers still barricading me. With a grumble they both finally acquiesce, and I march straight past them through the barrier without so much as a glance. My Shadow follows silently, unnoticed by anyone but me as always, but it doesn’t stop the apprehension prickling over my spine as I become hyper aware of his presence near the others.

“Detective Blackwood,” Silvie calls out as we turn our backs on them. “Did the Chief really request Wren for this case? I thought she was fired?”

Xavier sighs heavily, subtly raising an eyebrow at me before turning back to Silvie. “I don’t think you’re exactly in a position to be questioning protocol right now, Silvie, given your own demotion.”

She flinches like he hit her. “Yes sir. Sorry sir.”

Xavier turns his back on them again and I follow him towards the crime scene, purposefully keeping my expression blank. Losing my job crushed me, every jab they make about it cutting to the bone, but I don my usual mask of disdain, refusing to let it show. Xavier abruptly pulls me aside into the shadows once we are out of earshot and glares at me, distracting me from my self-pity. His bronzed skin makes him near invisible in the dark, and he would almost be intimidating if I hadn’t known him since we were children.

“Lying about the Chief is going to come back to bite you, Octavia,” he lectures, running his hand through his black, tussled hair. “I’m going out on a limb here for you.”