Night falls over Yulong like a damp shroud. And with it comes a silence Liyen has never known. No crickets chirping in the tall grass. No owls calling from the ancient chestnuts. Not even the familiar roar of the forest spirit—that deep, earthy growl that has marked the boundary between village and darkness since her childhood.
As if the creature Mara warned of has silenced the forest itself.
On the palisade, guards press against the cool wooden railing. Bows drawn, quivers of freshly sharpened arrows on their backs. Shifts have been doubled, patrols shortened to ten minutes. Lanterns hang from every post, every tree, every intersection—a flickering web of light meant to push back the darkness.
But the darkness pushes back.
In Liyen's hut, the oil lamp sputters. Her shadows dance across the walls as she faces Mara.
"Why did you insist on speaking alone?"
Mara leans closer. Her voice drops to a whisper. "This sounds mad—I am a stranger, after all. But I must know your greatest secret. Something not even your mother knows."
Liyen hesitates. Her fingers dig into the fabric of her garment. "Why... why should I tell you?"
"Because the creature can disguise itself as human." Mara's eyes slide to the door, as if someone might be listening. "We need a password. Something only we two know. If I don't know it... then I am not me."
"And if I tell you my secret?"
"Then I'll tell you mine." A crooked smile. "An equal exchange."
Liyen bites her lower lip. "My Ma knows everything about me. She knows me better than I know myself."
"Then something only the fewest know."
"Hmm..." Liyen closes her eyes, breathes deep. "Well, I—"
"No!" Mara presses a finger to Liyen's lips. Her skin is ice-cold. "Into the ear. Or she will hear us."
She leans forward. Her breath tickles Liyen's ear. "I love Yaoming."
A pause. Then Mara turns, presents her own ear. Her voice is barely a breath: "I love women."
Outside, the night swallows every sound. Only the stars glitter through the smoke of the lanterns.
Then—movement.
A blot, darker than night itself, detaches from the star-scattered sky. Grows larger. Draws closer.
A wingbeat that is no wingbeat. Rather the sound of wet sheets cracking in the wind. The sound of something that should not fly, yet flies.
The creature circles. Once. Twice. Like a carrion bird over its prey.
A woman stares upward into the sky. Her green eyes widen. The creature hovers above her—outspread limbs, too long for a human, too powerful for a beast. Talons flash in the lantern light like sharpened sickles. And the face... if it is a face... hidden in shadows that move as if they possess their own life.
Then the creature plunges. Mist-swift. The woman's face unrecognizable.
The creature does not move like something living. It slides across the ground like a shadow, does not leap through air but through... something else. Through the space between heartbeats.
Now it stands before the woman. The soft earth gives way to the ankles—if they are ankles. Taller than a human, yet not massive. Stretched. Distorted. As if someone gave flesh to a shadow. The long arms hang almost to the ground, ending in talons that scratch the stone garden border like soft clay.
The woman tries to scream. Cannot.
Shock constricts her throat. The dark presence overwhelms every thought.
The creature turns its head—or what passes for one. The movement is wrong, too fast, too smooth, as if it has no bones. Eyes—if they are eyes—scan the surroundings. Testing. Watchful.
The talons pierce the blue garment. Dig into flesh. Lift the woman high like a doll of cloth and straw. She does not scream. Only stares, her green eyes wide, full of shock, full of recognition.
The creature's mouth opens. Too wide. Wider than a human jaw could manage.
And the blood—the blood from the woman's body—flows directly into that maw.
The next morning, Mara hops through the streets of Yulong. Whistling. Cheerful. She reaches the village bell, grasps the rope, rings it.
The villagers stream forth. Faces full of worry, eyes red from a sleepless night.
Mara spreads her arms. Smiles innocently.
"I am truly very sorry, my dear hosts!" Her voice carries. Clear. Too clear. "But I must tell you: all this was merely a jest."
Murmurs ripple through the crowd.
"I lost a wager. Had to travel to Yulong and make fools of you all." She shrugs. "I did it most unwillingly, but a bet is a bet, is it not?"
The anger is palpable. Most villagers only shake their heads, turn away. Some remain, shouting: "Boo! You should be ashamed!" "Because of you we couldn't sleep peacefully all night and were panic-stricken!"
Mara seeks out Liyen. Finds her at the edge of the gathered crowd.
"Liyen! Wait!" She hurries over. "I must apologize to you personally. You were the first to believe me. The first I deceived."
Liyen studies her. Her eyes are red, but her voice remains gentle. "You traveled such a long way just to make fools of people?"
"Debts of honor." Mara winks. "My friends told me to go to Yulong. I merely settled the account."
Both laugh. Liyen shakes her head, but the smile remains.
"Besides..." Liyen tilts her head. "Did you not wish to show your determination when you opened your bodice?"
Mara laughs—a sound like breaking glass. "I had to win that wager at any cost. Acted decisively, even if it sounds perhaps mad."
"Hmm." Liyen's smile fades. "Since we entrusted each other with secrets anyway—for emergencies—would now not be a good time to prove you are the real Mara?"
Mara turns away. Gives Liyen her back.
"I wanted to show you something anyway." Her fingers find the first button of her bodice. "You will like this."
Liyen laughs nervously. "What? Do you want to show me your breasts? I saw those yesterday."
"I hope you did not misunderstand my hospitality." "So, don't deflect. What is my greatest secret?"
Mara laughs. The laughter sounds right—too right, like a bird mimicking human speech. Then it catches. Her face contorts, the skin stretching tight over bone as if something beneath struggles. The face of the Noctusborn reveals itself for a fraction of a second. Mara's face remains hidden from her still.
"You ask many questions, little Li."
Liyen does not see it. She still smiles, relieved that everything was merely a poor jest.
"Haha, no no." Mara's voice trembles. "I wanted to show you something else, not my breasts."
"Your secret is... that you love Yaoming infinitely?"
"Was that a statement or a question?" Liyen smiles.
"A statement, of course."
"But everyone noticed that."
Mara closes her bodice. She turns to Liyen again. Her face is normal once more. Almost normal. But her eyes are too dark. Too empty.
"Ah, before I forget." Her voice shifts topics too quickly. "I heard that in Yulong they research so-called homunculi. Is there truly such advanced alchemy here?"
"You are better informed than I." Liyen shrugs. "But perhaps our alchemist researches it. He lives in the south, where white smoke rises from the chimney. You cannot miss it."
"And who is the best smith in Yulong?"
"We are a small village. We have only a village smith." Liyen points in the same direction. "He lives right beside the alchemist. Or rather: the alchemist leased beside the smith. He wanted the smith to realize his inventions." Liyen smiles. She studies Mara. "What are you planning? An alchemist who researches homunculi, and a smith?"
Mara steps closer. Grabs Liyen's hands. Her fingers are ice-cold.
"Why so many questions? You trusted me. You can trust me now as well."
Liyen flinches. The cold bites.
"Oh yes." Mara's voice grows whisper-soft. "I wanted to show you something else."
Her fingers open the first button. Slowly. Too slowly.
Liyen watches as Mara's shoulder blades move beneath the fabric—not like muscles. Like wings straining to unfold.
An elderly villager opens the door. Her eyes widen.
Liyen and Mara lie upon the bed. Lightly clad. But Mara does not move. Her torso is slit open, the bed soaked with blood.
"What... what has happened here?"
A villager steps inside. "What were you seeking in Liyen's hut?"
The old woman whirls around. Her voice trembles with rage. "Are you implying something? I brought mushrooms that the mother bought. I didn't have enough, so I went to gather more before coming here." She points at the bed. "There I found them. Liyen and the corpse of the white woman."
"You went mushroom gathering in the middle of the night?"
She snorts. But she does not know how to respond.
Liyen stirs. Opens her eyes. The noise reaches her as if through water.
"What happened?" Her voice is hoarse. "I remember nothing."
Then she sees Mara. The slit torso. The blood.
Her skin tightens. Fragments of memory flicker—shadows, talons, a face that contorts.
"I didn't murder Mara!" She springs up, staggers. "It was the creature of darkness! You must believe me!"
Mother Lan storms inside. Her face is ashen. "Liyen could never harm anyone! Never!"
But the village guards are already there. Their faces are hard, their grips firm.
"Liyen is taken into custody."
"No! Wait!" Liyen fights against the hands that seize her. "You must give Mara a proper burial! She warned us! She—"
The guards drag her toward the door.
Liyen's voice fades: "She deserved—"
The door of the lockup closes behind her.