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Chapter 1

“You’re spoiling your eyes.”
The chandeliers swayed and it was the glass that spoiled the shine but the glare was still vivid. When the ceiling shivered rays escaped and they went on to pierce the eyes of the boy who had seen so much so quickly. Nothing could close them at this point. He was going blind to any thoughts, to any desire or urge, blind to anything that could harm him if he kept gazing.
His mother’s words just added to the surrounding noise; it was only when he felt the slap to the back of his head that he heeded her warning. “I said you’re going to go blind, Shetani.”
He adjusted to the dimly lit hall as he tilted his head forward. She clutched his shirt and began wiping away, circling his eyes and bobbing him around as she did so. A frenzy was forming, both could sense it, and with his lucidity returning he allowed her to support him through it however she felt. He wanted no part of the ruckus.
How it got to this point, he wasn’t sure. Just a few hours ago he was on the mainland. Its smells were still on him, and a couple of the faces he saw when he left were beside him; they had come together. All had come in a rush, and they brought the tension with them.
Over here, it was a different kind. It wasn’t the exciting kind. There was nothing to do but wait. His mind went to the streets he walked not long ago, his many neighbors raving about how safe they were, how large the army fortifying them was. There was a connection to the land that backed their hearts, so strong he could hear it in their voices even as they whispered, so strong he could see it in their faces when they chose to hush for his passing. That’s how he knew it came in many forms, whatever it was. Every day the vendors cooked up food more fragrant than the last, wanting to make the most of every meal, and the dancers flowed adroitly to a rhythm hastily siphoning more and more out of them. Their patterns were fluid, too much so for him as he repeatedly found out, though he still couldn’t help but bounce his feet when he saw them on the streets, on the beach, in the water especially. Sometimes, when his mother picked him up and placed him atop her shoulders, he thought they were doing it for him. That was also when he least cared; he was closer to the plain skies than he was to the city’s sprawling floor. The ships that streaked beyond the blue above always got the attention of those below, mostly jeers because recently, almost all had been departing.
The mainland was supposed to be safe, a haven, the pillar of the system. No matter how hard-fought the war was or how quickly it arrived, it would end there. It was the top of the standing and its people refused to believe there was any force that could change that. Now those labels were passed to the little island they huddled under, for the force they were met with was unnatural in its power and might, greater than they could have possibly imagined.
The shelter meant nothing to Shetani. If the time to leave the hall came, those labels would pass to wherever he went. All it caused was a small bubbling inside him, something he hadn’t the experience to even acknowledge. But his subconscious was taking notes, and it was working overtime.
That didn’t mean he couldn’t tell things weren’t unfolding the way they were meant to. The stress was increasingly palpable. It threatened to cascade, and it would have, but the many murmurs across the room were slowly drowned out and he began to give attention to the noise.
A quiet set of footsteps came from the front of the hall, behind the dark of one of the empty corridors leading to the surface. “There we go,” his mother breathed, turning to him. “Try to stay still for us, okay. Me and Isola need to listen along.” Gradually the steps grew louder and louder until the source revealed itself.
Shetani nodded in response to his mother, maneuvering his head attempting to get a clearer view through the surrounding wall of bodies. All he could see were the slivers of brown clay walls between the gaps of limbs and torsos. Everything was of similar shade, a box in the earth in more ways than one. Nobody thought to sacrifice their own view of the proceedings for his, everyone wishing to witness the maker in hopes they’d be someone able to get them out of their predicament. “Isola…”
“Yes Nesi,” his father responded, lounging on the phrase as if unbothered by it all. Nesi leaned over and asked, “How’s Amor doing?”
“He’s doing fine.” Gently, Isola rocked the baby cradled in his arms back and forth. “Hopefully we won’t get too worked up in here.” Together, his parents watched on nervously, each brushing their faces against Amor’s to keep all three in comfort.
By now, the footsteps were clear. Their echo rang off the walls in every direction, paused briefly, then started again towards the center of the stage dominating the front of the room. There, they stopped, and a few seconds of quiet followed. Shetani looked around at the faces; they were mostly blanketed in confusion.
“What’s wrong?” Nesi asked, she too unable to make out the arrival from their position towards the back of the hall. Isola raised himself off the ground so he could scan the stage, all the while coddling Amor. Some of those behind him didn’t take too kindly to it.
“Get down!” they told him. “You’re not the only ones here.” Regardless, Isola stayed in the air until he was sure he was seeing things correctly.
“Oh. That’s not good,’ he informed Nesi upon landing. The short moment of silence had been overtaken by louder and louder gossip. “That’s not Aibu.”
“It’s not Aibu? Who is it?”
Shetani had heard the name, and he knew that made Aibu someone of note. But that was all he knew. He’d never seen him. He jumped to get a glimpse, over and over until he could put together an image of the man on stage.
He was tall, mostly covered with a thin layer of green garments that all the council members wore. Poking out of them were his face and fingers, tinted a Chantilly cream, and feet sandaled in gold. His skin was springy, soft-looking, and to Shetani, this man was glowing. He was striking to everyone else as well, though they figured it was due to the vivid contrast his soft red hair had to everything else about him, straight and long enough to sit comfortably on his rather built shoulders that carried the silky cloth so that it appeared like one line running behind his back. Finishing off the look was a golden headband holding back every hair so that which they sat atop shone unobstructed. It was a refined look, highly so. The concern that most others in the room were filled with, Shetani thought was absent in his face.
Around twenty others had entered the hall behind him, all wearing similar green garbs and encircling his rear when he took his spot on stage. They had flown through the corridor, clearly to expedite their safety from that which sent them fleeing, and they wore solemn expressions which better reflected the uneasiness that only grew with their presence. They had been leading the fight, nobody could blame them in these hard times. Just how hard the times were going to get was the question on everyone’s mind—that and as one older lady near the front of the hall finally shouted out, “Where’s Aibu?”.
She was ignored initially. As the question was repeated by the crowd, the council members stepped down to the floor with everybody else and slowly gestured for quiet. Of course, it didn’t work. There was barely enough space to fit them and their backs were pressed against the platform.
Each time the question went unanswered, more joined in. The mumbles had grown to a discombobulated chorus. Their chords wavered naturally as their instincts dictated, chants which were their despair preparing to break into harsh song. They unsettled the air itself. “Where the fuck is Aibu?”, “We want Aibu!”, “What happened to Aibu?”. They banged the walls and stomped the floor. Shetani looked at his brother, amazed he could sleep through it all. Other children were wailing, their parents trying their hardest to quiet them. A few of the adults couldn’t help but cry themselves. People were not sure if they were confronting the council, interrogating them, pleading, but they wanted to know and their grounding had dissolved. It was dangerous.
Nesi pulled Shetani close to her, placing her hands over his ears to block out the noise. He could still hear what was going on, now on top of the blood flowing past his ears, which he didn’t like. Instead, he took his mother’s hands and used them to climb on top of her. She was too tired to refuse. He still didn’t have the best view. The man was focused on setting up a recording of some sort, swiftly, occasionally glancing up to monitor the rowdiness of the crowd as if against the clock. At least that’s what he appeared to be doing.
Amidst the backdrop of what had evolved to a tempest of cries, a series of quakes had ever so slightly begun to shake the hall. Shetani looked up and saw the lights above were moving to a new tune, more violent with every rattle. There must have been a few thousand people gathered and the man noticed that only one of them, the boy, had his head up to take note of the approaching threat. When Shetani lowered his head, briefly the two’s glances collided, and instinctively both withdrew them immediately. As they did, the loudest quake up to that point hit the hall and one of the chandeliers could no longer hang on. It dropped in an instant, shattering on the head of someone not too far in front of him. Specks of glass bounced off the person and skidded along the floor, filling the place with a harmonic echo that died painfully slowly. In those seconds, everyone stopped. The room anticipated the coming silence, what they knew would be the edge. All the present energy accumulated and condensed at the site of the accident. The hall knew it would be filled with an outburst like no other in signal of the end.
But it was not to be. The man turned to the people, everything still outside the waning ringing, and whispered, “Silence.” And as if speaking it into existence, everything fell quiet. All their attention went to the stage, to the man who put the ringing down. It was his silence they took to. His lips moved as if speaking to someone right next to him, yet his voice resonated clearly throughout the space.
Shetani didn’t see a microphone. Never had he heard someone amplify their voice like that before. Isola didn’t practice it, and Nesi’s was not nearly as strong. In fact, the man was too loud. 
“Oh my,” Nesi whispered, reaching for Shetani to bring him back down to the ground. A short bit ahead of the group, a mother had to wipe blood leaking from her child’s ear. Those near were taken aback.
“Aibu,” the man began, “can’t be here with us right now.” He paused to test the crowd's willingness to interrupt. Every swing from the chandeliers above was now audible. “But I’m sure he is alive and fighting.” Another pause. This time he waited for the ground to shudder again. It trembled the bedrock holding the premises, particles of the ceiling’s stone chipping away to fall on the folk beneath. It was hard not to think they were moving to the gait of the monster. “I am here in his place. Look. You must look. Force yourself.” His timbre was dramatic, though he was careful not to shout. Strolling along the stage’s edge, the screen that lowered behind him presented the recording he had prepared. Even accounting for the state of the crowd, what it showed shocked them.
The recordings were recent, taken that week, some shots that same day. It showed Wa-Hai, what was left of it. Nothing resembled anything that stood prior. Remains were all there was, and they lurched as the world molded the prints of the bearer, melting everything to its stride. No effort was made to censor it.
Beaten debris blended within the holes, resembling a soupy mixture of rubble, earth, flesh, underneath the overwhelming shadow of a creature that wholly eclipsed the star. So dark had the picture turned, had the stage and the man turned; the few rays of light that managed to prod through the black clouds did not give hope, they only gave menace to what they feared was masked in the smog. They were traps offering certain dissolution, shining on the castle in the sky the monster had proved the city to be.
Any other day, no one else would be afraid of such supposed news, though it would scare Shetani nonetheless; the creativity to envision such things was still unchecked in his youthful mind. Surely the worst of the worst was being shown, what stole the nerve to envision things getting better. He composed himself when he noticed that the rest of the crowd made not a peep. He could not be curious about it, or find it strange. He was lucky that what he saw was kept to the screen because he didn’t doubt its authenticity.
It was a cruel depiction that contrasted his view of the black clouds from afar. Upon landing on the island, they had blocked his view of the destruction. At the time, beside him, a handful of elderly onlookers praised Pos Napun’s largest and brightest city, its stronghold, even as it drowned in its own ash. In their old age they were quite lax about it all. Shetani heard them reminisce on their fight against the incursions further into the system. What it meant to them he couldn’t comprehend. What it meant to the Ottons and the Alirians behind them, he couldn’t begin to fathom; were they crestfallen knowing the crumbling buildings that once touched the clouds they looked up to had been surpassed by a silhouette that would eventually reach them? They were all banking on Aibu to somehow extricate them from the path of the monster, but with his absence it was all but confirmed. Looking back, it was always wishful thinking. What were they ever going to do about it?
On stage, the man continued, constantly turning to and from the crowd that watched along, seemingly like drones. Shetani wondered what the purpose of showing the tapes was. If the plan was to imprint fear then it was working, but it didn’t feel like the man was some dolorous man pressing his feelings onto others.
Maybe to the rest he was, displaying a reality so grim it could only be realized by others fastened to the same line of destiny affirming his sentiments, and rather than shout at the top of his lungs, he showed them this. But the council wouldn’t take to a man like that. “What happened can not be undone. Don’t worry yourselves even more thinking about what became of those trying to prevent it.” It eased the man, the hall losing its voice. He breathed his words heavier, his tenacity grew, and his presence overtook the empty space left by that of the crowd who all instinctively retreated. “Creatures like this are not normal. It can’t be stopped. There is nothing you could have done.”
Another trembling, and for the first time the lights flickered, brief instances of dark cast by the man’s shadow upon everyone as the screen shone his back. “Do not consider taking refuge here an act of cowardness. All we need is time. Stay put right here, it is our best chance. Aibu gave us a chance. Wa-Hai will always be a great city, a great world, the Haians that built it even greater.” 
Despite the commendation, his message didn’t look to be heading to a positive conclusion. The monster was close. Still, as panic started to rise again he dawdled around the stage watching the jobs of his comrades grow tougher with each sentence. It appeared to alleviate something within. “Aibu gave us a chance. All you have to do is wait. You know what comes after this. The only danger to us right now is ourselves,” he said again, with a steely smirk this time.
Others were pressed into Shetani and he somehow slipped between a few strangers. Nesi quickly shuffled her feet to retrieve him but by then a wave of people had latched onto the stage floor and the mass of bodies inched forward as one. It was hostile, and the council had taken to the stage to protect the man. Amor remained lulled amidst it all. Shetani saw objects thrown past him, felt the tug of Nesi’s hand and soon heard the sound of Isola’s voice.
“I don’t wanna hear this right now.” 
Nesi agreed. Each had a child in their hands, assessing what was escalating to a riot. Together the family pushed and squeezed past. They decided to try their luck on their own rather than participate in whatever this was. It wasn’t easy but eventually they reached the doors. Isola kicked them open. As they walked through they received warnings, threats on behalf of the monster heading their way, dubbing the choice to leave a stupid one which would get them killed. Isola and Nesi had to trust their guts. The handful of others who thought it was a good idea snuck past the open doors and bolted past Shetani, refusing to look back.
He was glad to exit the room. Fifty feet up the ramp, around the corner, another fifty feet up the ramp and they’d reach the entrance at the surface. He hoped to arrive at a calmer scene than the one they entered from. He could still hear the man on stage speaking with a twisted hunger. “Be grateful for the intuition that brought you here and the people like Aibu for the chance you have at withstanding what’s out there.” Clearly they hadn’t gotten to him yet.
Isola turned the corner, calling Shetani to hurry up. He was lagging behind as his parents rushed; they needed to be quick if they were going to get far enough. After seeing the size of the approaching threat, the mass of water separating Wa-Hai from the island wasn’t that great. His parents weren’t completely ignorant as to what the man insinuated about what came after; in many aspects it was worse than the initial cataclysm, but the immediate threat had their minds occupied.
Nesi waited at the turn and grabbed Shetani’s arm, hurling him towards the exit. The light was dim for some seconds until Shetani had to shield his eyes from the reflections off the forming stream filling up the corridor. It blinded Nesi as well and she failed to see her son in front of her in time to avoid crashing into him. They tumbled down into the water. Both were soaked, neither hurt, although they wasted valuable time getting up and drying themselves. Nesi heated her hand and squeezed the water out of their clothes, much to Isola’s disapproval.
“There’s no time for that,” he exclaimed. “And where did this shit even come from?” Obviously, there wasn’t supposed to be any water. “It has to have been displaced but from where?” It wasn’t raining outside. With all the cacophony in the hall it wouldn’t surprise Shetani if a storm had passed over. But a storm this strong?
Isola continued soothing Amor, stroking his hair softly, and at last Shetani saw his brother’s eyes open. He stared at Shetani with heaving open breaths. “We reached the bend before it. It just started or it’s nothing to worry about. Either way.” When he realized his baby had woken up, Isola softly patted him on the head, telling the older brother, “Come on now, we’re almost there.”
As the stream picked, Amor started to cry. The others ignored him. They could hear the eruption from the hall; it had to be from the water passing the doors. Shetani didn’t care for those they left behind now having to wade through to freedom. He was too engaged, zoning out the crying, the panic, the ever louder river, and as he got closer to the exit, the roaring winds that threw everything that wasn’t the ground itself around like toys. Amor went on wailing.
By the time they reached the door the water was knee high and thick, sludgy. The roof of the little shelter housing the entrance was the only place they could afford to stand. It was a lot of effort to pick up Shetani, but Nesi did it anyway, not wanting to take any risks, and he clung onto her like his brother did his father.
“Thank you,” he mumbled.
They flew out and atop the doors. An unpleasant view met them, if not astounding, their reflexive gasps stripping them of any air necessary for a meaningful response. Under the sky coated with the same running inky clouds were trees being swept away in a dirty flood, drifting past amongst stone and cement litter, boulders that pinballed across the disappearing tiled streets and bits of the disintegrating hills that had once lined the coast of the island. Providing a stale empty background were the few tall structures too big for the current to bring down, structures that now stood alone and hollowed. If the foundations were eroded and they sank into the water then nothing would change. Torrents travelled well into the interior of the town towards the forest which, although out of sight now, probably covered a large portion of the sea’s holm and acted as a strong buffer.
Shetani looked the opposite way over to the beach and the hills in the distance. Small valleys were split by ferocious waves running over the thin stretch of sand that divided the inclined land from the sea. As he eyed the mounds, a morbid frisson ran down his back, a cold and pulling sensation that heightened when he focused on one in particular and assured himself it was distinct from the rest.
Up and down, up and down. It moved with a compression, tiny contractions and inflations. Nesi caught on too, highlighting the hill in the range in confirmation.
“Do you see that?” both prompted Isola in its direction.
 Isola was pointing something out to Amor instead. A tree floated in the flood, a dotard bouncing along off the mess. They had seen it many times; whenever they came to the island it was the first thing they saw getting off the boat, forever rotting. Now it was like a coat on the water, soaked and pliant and slowly dissolving into the mixing.
Seeing the tree irked Shetani. He wasn’t fond of the island since he only ever came to visit a family friend’s parents, Nesi’s friend, Jan, and he was reminded of her. They were actually with Jan earlier that day, she was meant to be there with them but they lost each other in the turmoil. They hadn’t been able to find her in the hall. All they could do was hope she was safe.
Deaf to what was going on, Amor pointed back and forth between the tree and his father, making quirky sounds through his panting, ignorant enough to find it amusing.
“Isola.”
“What?”
“You don’t think it’s coming closer, do you?”
“What is?”
Nesi guided him to what she and Shetani were keen to and the three anxiously assessed if it was. As seconds passed, its scale was stagnant, their nerves withering when it failed to approach. The hill was sitting in place, as one would think, though the compressions remained. So locked in, the group jumped and swiveled when a voice from behind took them by surprise.
“What a lucky break.”
Shetani turned to see nobody there. He had to lift his head up, his parents the same. Hovering above them was the man from the stage, examining what the family had been. “I’m grateful for a lot of things but some things you just can’t be grateful enough for.”
The five of them watched the breathing hill a short while longer before Nesi asked the man, “What is it doing? Resting?”
“If it were, then it would be the first time one of them has gotten up. Then we’d really be stuck. Thankfully, it most likely won’t. It’s done.” 
“So it’s dying,” Isola noted. The man landed next to them and nodded.
“Shouldn’t be long now. It was close. It was very close. But I think Aibu got to it.” The man’s composure after giving such alarming words in the hall confused Shetani. The fluctuating cast deterred the boy from approaching the man, choosing to stick tightly to his mother. Rarely would a mien like this not lead to Nesi and Isola thinking the man was not well, but they could tell right away that this man must have been someone like Aibu. It was the only thing that made sense, it was what they wanted to believe, and it was almost as if it was what they were being told without any words.
“It doesn’t make any sense,” said Isola. “ How? How does anything stop that?”
His response to Isola was minimal. Standing in the wind, the gale blowing his lengthy hair and silky robe every which way, he uttered, “I wish he was here to tell us. I hope he finds his way to us soon.”
“What about what comes after?”
“To be seen.”
“For any of us to not know, I understand, but you came here with Aibu, right? You fought with him. Do you really just pray they follow suit?” Nesi was snappy in her querying, but the man shrugged it off, wearing a smile that suggested he was clearly happy with the way things currently stood.
“I’m just glad it was stopped. Let’s hope our resistance is as strong as we planned it to be.”
“What would that be?”
“The island. You’re planning to head for the forest, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, hiding in the forest would be your best bet. Running would do you no good. The best advice I can give you is not to leave the island. Stay on Rozan for now.”
“That’s not exactly the best idea. Barely a resistance,” Nesi said with a mad breath. The small window of reprieve gave her emotions time to bubble up and hearing a plan of false hope didn’t make her want to decipher what the man could have been implying. “Let’s go.” She led them to the edge of the structure. Isola secured Amor whilst giving the man his goodbyes. Shetani was still stuck on the hill. The compressions had halted, and began gradually rolling out of the frame until a sudden drop removed it completely. Displaced water began pouring through the low knolls and the flood became even more fierce.
The first people emerged from the corridor, some at the front of the file flying out above the surface of the water, most fighting through it to escape the tightly packed hallway. The man amplified his voice to help ease the exit. “Careful not to injure others. The water isn’t rising that fast,” he repeated. The water level was rising quite a bit.
Before they could get going, the man asked the family for their names, claiming he would see them soon.
“We most likely won’t be coming back,” Isola told him, to which the man responded with a small crow and a shake of hands.
“I would have loved to meet you in other circumstances. My name is Ordost. I don’t want you to spend too long in there.”
Shetani felt something was not quite right. It was like the man’s eyes were addressing Nesi as his hand embraced Isola’s, and when his eyes finally addressed the boy, Shetani found his pupils perused, deliberately which maybe the man had to do. It didn’t feel like Shetani was truly meeting him, at least not in the way they were. Yet, there was a familiarity in their greeting, enough to make Shetani wait for the cursors to catch up.
Shetani didn’t think it would quicken if he was sinking in the spate or clinging to the safety of the dugout, and when Ordost took his hand and shook firmly, up close they opened wide and were sharp and glimmered like engines behind rocket fairings. It wasn’t a calm moment; Shetani thought they should have been alert. Instead, his stare went to the boy, who as he cycled through his memories felt the man loom further over with each one he didn’t appear in, asking to remember.
The first of the council members emerged from the hall and quickly tended to those in the water. Letting go, the boy turned back to Nesi, getting ready to leave. Ordost hopped off the platform as well, joining his group in preventing a stampede out of the hallway.
Nesi put Shetani on her back and together the group stayed above the shaping murky reservoir, flying past the abandoned edifices as they tried beating the waves to the dry land. Flying was convenient and quick but energy-intensive, especially with children on your back. There wasn’t enough water to drown them completely but for the elders, getting off the ground in waist-high sludge was difficult. Over his mother’s shoulders, Shetani saw stragglers working their way to the same place he was going. Unfortunately his hands were full and unavailable to help, and it would take away from their headstart. He knew he was lucky, gratefully rubbing his head on his mother.
Eventually, the extra weight got to her. She caught up to Isola. “Come. Take Shetani.” She carried him off her back and propped him into Isola’s arms. As the transfer took place he rubbed his brother’s nose, eliciting a wild chuckle like he was on a ride. Whilst they made faces at each other, their parents continued forward for about five minutes until the water levels tapered. Land appeared in the distance.
Once they descended, the sea reached their ankles but it wasn’t a bother. Seeing the forest gave them motivation. “Your turn,” said Isola, letting the brothers walk hand in hand. The parents created a bit of separation to discuss what they wanted to do from there.
It didn’t take long for the brothers’ hands to slip. Amor got distracted and began splashing around. His giggling was uncontrollable and he sat clapping in the shallow pool as Shetani recreated the tragedy he had just seen on the screen. His memory played moments of him running around in the gardens with Amor, chasing him. Then on all fours he went after his brother, and he rose to mold and snap his fingers like a crab, pretending to be the monster on screen since it was everything he’d wheat always imagined one to be. He saw himself leveling the path ahead as effortlessly as he knew the monster would do to him, and both ran with mirth until the sounds caught their father’s ear. “Cut it out! Now is not the time.”   
Amor went on a little bit more before he took hold of the less lively hand Shetani had offered him, proceeding to caper whilst Shetani did his best to drag him along. Finally exiting the water, they let their parents wring their clothes dry. Small puddles formed at the feet.
It was always amazing to Shetani seeing hands heat up to the point they glowed, a dim orange hue that often outlined the veins running through their wrists, as awesome as it was rare. Either they were really wet or their parents were in a rush—maybe both by the worry plastered on their faces. 
“They’re supposed to come directly after, right?” asked Nesi. 
“Yeah. It was right there. They might be on the island already, if not close,” Isola replied as he finished the last touches on Amor’s clothes.
“They’re only a minute out.” Isola raised his head to Nesi’s alert and his heart skipped a beat. “Should we wait for them?” They’d been pursued by a healthy number of refugees who had the same plan. Reluctantly, they did decide to wait.
As a small group started to gather at the forest’s edge, a drizzle came. Though they didn’t know it, the talk with Ordost somewhat quelled their fears. In no world did the threat warrant the patience they were showing but it was taking longer than expected, be it irrationally or not. Maybe he was onto something.
The kids sat adjacent to the vegetation as Isola gathered everyone who made it past the water’s surge into a huddle. They were going on as a group. The rich shine from the star behind the black clouds sharpened the gloom, the wind that carried the wandering palls a beautiful stygian that somehow gave more awe to the couple of beams sneaking through.
The few still removing themselves from the extent of the encroaching sea did so with their heads perpendicular to their frames. There were around thirty of them, with second and third waves on their way. The likelihood of Ordost being right increased with each person who dried off, yet the breath of the monster was ominous, putting doubt into them all. If it represented what was coming, then their headstart would be for nought.
It sure didn’t matter to the kids. They resumed playing, leaving the rest puzzled more than anything. Watching them get their feet wet made part of them want to remain in place for a while, although nobody else was able to fully share in their joyous moods. There was a dire grip around them, all they had gained up to now was some breathing room. 
One of the older women approached Nesi and muttered softly, “What I’d give to be that naive.” Nesi looked on at her children, the lady up to the sky. “Any day but today though.” As she spoke, the drizzle that had been growing developed into a downpour.
“It’s only smoke, they’ve seen that. And look, they look like regular clouds.” Nesi stuck out her hand to feel the drops. “The rain comes with the clouds.”
The group that had formed steered itself into the cover of the forest. It was the black clouds that ushered them away, and unfortunately, they didn’t know when they would be able to come back out.