SOLEDAD

My fingers clamp around the glass, so tight I know I could shatter it if I squeezed just a little harder. Just a bit more pressure. That’s all it would take. Instead, I watch the amber liquid slide down the dull inner walls as I grind my teeth.

‘To the AES Sune.’

‘To the AES Sune,’ they all echo in unison.

At those words, everyone raises their glass, and I mimic them without thinking. I’ve got the taste of bile at the back of my throat—anger’s taste, the sour afterburn of resentment. I down the gut-rot in one go, washing bitterness with bitterness, drowning its stench in something even harsher. I feel the alcohol burning its way down my esophagus. But it isn’t enough. I knew it wouldn’t be enough even before I threw it back. Because this isn’t just anger—it’s hatred. A cold rage twisting my insides. Worse still, the warm buzz of the booze only feeds the fire. And with it, the fury.

I’d had front-row seats when the AES Sune went down into the Cloudsea. I’d watched the cruiser fall, slowly, agonizingly, engulfed in flames, wrapped in a plume of black smoke. The alarm was howling in my ears, drilling through my skull, and all I could do was stare wide-eyed as it sank, helpless. Its descent had been slow. So slow. And yet everything happened too fast for anyone to rush in and save them. The hull struck the cloud surface, and for a few seconds it looked like it was sailing across a gray ocean… before it sank, before it vanished.

I stayed there, cursing like a dockworker even though I couldn’t hear my own voice over the screaming wind and the blare of the sirens. Stupid, really, but I’d hoped to see it rise again, and I whispered encouragements under my breath. I don’t know what I was thinking. The hull was torn open, and beneath the clouds lay only the Tumult… Then, in a silence so unreal it felt dreamlike, the explosion blew the clouds away in a colossal geyser. A circular wave blossomed outward like a flower unfolding, right until the sonic boom crashed into us head-on and sent us reeling—

And the worst part is, I couldn’t look away. I stayed rooted there, throat dry, horrified, mesmerized, clinging to the railing… until realization slammed into me like a delayed shockwave.

Three hundred.

More than three hundred souls—officers, soldiers, civilians, even a few families, they said—gone in an instant. Just like that. A snap of the fingers.

“Hahalua.” That was what they’d called the Leviathan the first time it surfaced from the clouds, half veiled by the cover. A tribute to some ancient legend, or so they said. But they’d quickly changed the name to “Halua” after the first attacks. It meant “ambush” or “provocation,” something like that. And it fit the bastard a hell of a lot better.

It had surged out of the clouds like a monster from the deep, untouched by the Tumult. It barreled straight toward the Sune. Its fin deliberately struck the vessel. At its scale, it was just a flick—yet its wing tore through the ship’s hull and shattered its central tower. And the abomination dove back under the surface before we could do a damn thing…

It wasn’t an accident. It was a setup.

Around me, the deckhands and hunters sip their drinks, faces gray and hollow. There’s grief, yes—but more than that. “What if we’re next?”; “What can we even do?” Fear spreads like a plague. Invisible. Pernicious.

As for me, I can’t stop hearing the screams—the groans of those who went down with the ship. They loop endlessly in my skull as I picture the scene. The horror. The terror. The lucky ones died in the strike. The others must have felt the bite of the Tumult before the blast freed them… I’m shaking.

Is that what my brother went through?

I blink, swallowing back tears. Oh no. I’m not giving it that satisfaction. I smother the grief inside me and replace it with the warmth—no, the comfort—of rage. I’ve had enough. I can’t sit still anymore.

Across from me, Veora watches with furrowed brows, probably guessing the torment I’m inflicting on myself. A little farther off, Magdalena lays a comforting hand on someone’s shoulder. Maanus has already slipped away. Sae stares into the bottom of her glass… I look at all of them, one by one, suddenly irritated by the inaction, the numbness. A wave of disgust rolls through me. This isn’t the time to mope. Instead of brooding, we should be grinding that Leviathan into paste.

That’s when she appears—slipping through the crowd. Her hood is up. Her cloak hides most of her lithe frame. But as she weaves effortlessly between people, it’s easy to notice, beneath her blood-red mantle, the muted gleam of her leather armor.

During my Imhallat, she was the one who answered my call. Little Red Riding Hood, taken under the Huntsman’s wing. And in turn, she had taken me under hers. If she’s here now, it’s to urge me toward one thing, and one thing only.

I hurl my glass. It smashes against the wall. Heads turn toward me as I rise with a clatter.

BASIRA

A chair crashes to the floor just as I’m about to raise my glass to my lips. A huntress has shot to her feet, red with fury. She slams her fist on the table.

‘That’s enough. Look at your faces, for god’s sake! You’re driving me up the wall. You really think this is how we honor them? By sulking and whining with our tails between our legs? It makes me sick.’

The room just stares at her, dumbfounded, too stunned to utter a word. I finish my drink and feel the fire of the liquor warming my throat.

‘We should already be sharpening our blades instead of acting like sheep lined up for slaughter. The wolf is in the fold. It’s time to start the hunt.’

Want me to shut her up?

I shake my head slightly at Kai, then reach for the brandy bottle again. She sees me, of course. The others are far too stunned to say anything. I take another swig, push back my chair. Time to make my exit.

‘You with me, Basira?’ she asks, looking right at me.

Of course. Trying to go unnoticed was wishful thinking on my part. I crack my jaw and turn toward her, trying my best to remain impassive. But the truth is, I was itching just as much as she was to start throwing punches and bleed out my frustration with my fists rather than my words.

‘If there’s anyone here who understands me, it’s you,’ she continues. ‘Leviathans are beasts meant to be slain. Their devastation has to end.’

I sigh.

‘Let them mourn the dead, kid.’

I watch rage twist her features.

‘Spare me,’ she snaps. ‘Every minute we sit here, we give that monster another chance to claim more lives. What are we going to do when it comes back? Shed another tear? No. No, no. We need to put it down now, before it can cause even more destruction.’

I fold my arms across my chest and face her.

‘What’s your name?’

‘Soledad,’ she spits.

‘And what do you propose, Soledad?’

‘That we open the hunting season.’

She stares at me, unblinking, though her expression seems to ease just a little.

‘With an Exalt leading us, it’ll be a walk in the park,’ she goes on. ‘We all know your story. We know exactly what fury drives you. I’m ready to follow you, and I know my pack is ready too.’

She turns to her companions, and many nod.

‘All of the Ascalon stands ready to follow you.’

‘Well now. But I think my cabin’s a little too cramped to host an entire Company…’

I see Sigismar snort, hiding his grin behind his fist.

‘A word of advice: go get some rest. It’s been a rough day,’ I say—without a hint of irony this time. ‘You need it. We all do.’

Just as I’m about to take my leave, she sweeps the glasses off her table. They shatter, and an electric silence follows.

‘You should be ashamed.’

Anger—already poked enough for one night—boils inside me. I crack my neck.

‘Care to repeat that?’

‘I didn’t think you were a coward. I thought you’d be the first to seize this chance.’

‘You think I’m not tempted?’ I raise my voice, just a touch. ‘But I don’t put my revenge above other people’s lives. Charging in headfirst—that’s what you’re suggesting?’

She flings her arms out, pointing at the entire room.

‘We’re all here already. I say we use the time to put together a battle plan instead of bowing our heads. Who’s with me?’

A murmur runs through the mess hall. Chairs scrape. One person stands, then another. Others turn their backs or pretend not to hear.

‘I said: who’s with me?’ she calls again, louder.

‘Me!’ a hunter declares. ‘Odwar Ouma—and the Afena stands with you!’

‘And me,’ says another, rising. ‘And you can count on the Requiem of Seti.’

‘And on the Gift of Nuur!’ someone shouts from afar.

One by one, hunters and fighters stand tall, while Soledad flashes a predatory smile at the growing crowd of volunteers. And not just Bravos. She greets each with a nod before fixing her gaze on me again.

‘And you, Basira? I’d say the wake’s over, don’t you think?’

I realize I’m breathing hard. Every part of me thrums with the urge to join them. My fingers curl and uncurl. I feel the pull of bloodlust. So does Kaizaimon, of course—he pours over my skin like a feverish crimson tide. But something in the huntress’s eyes makes me hesitate.

Suddenly, Filiki’s face surfaces in my mind—clear as day in the red haze. He smiles gently, just like he always did when I started to lose control. Which was often. He never needed to speak or lay out his arguments. His expression said it all: “Whatever happens, I trust you to choose the right path.”

I curse inwardly. Even in his grave, the bastard keeps haunting me.

‘It’s personal, isn’t it?’ I finally say.

Her eyes narrow, caught off guard.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she snaps, defensive.

‘What I think is that you’re using everyone’s grief—using this whole situation—to feed your own vendetta. If you lead them into this, you will be responsible for their survival. Or their deaths. Are you even ready to carry that weight?’

‘How dare you?’ she roars.

Looks like you hit a nerve, Kai notes dryly.

She steps right up to me, face flushed, eyes bloodshot, foam of rage at her lips. She grabs me by the collar, and I let her, though I make no effort to hide my defiance.

‘I didn’t know the great Basira was actually a craven,’ she spits.

I lean in close, utterly unimpressed.

‘Watch your mouth, huntress.’

‘You disappoint me. Your reputation—turns out it’s nothing but hot air.’

She snorts, spits on the ground, and turns away, releasing me.

‘I define myself through action, not words,’ she says, her back to me.

‘Wait!’

KAURI

I don’t know what possessed me to stand up like that. And even so, the two of them sweep their gaze across the mess hall without noticing me. I realize I’m still clutching the mug of warm milk against my stomach, and I hastily set it down on the table.

‘Thing is…’

Two people shift aside in front of me, and the two huntresses finally spot me in the crowd. And judging by the hard look they give me, I start stammering and sputtering. Soledad turns to Basira, mocking.

‘See? Even children have more guts than you.’

All around us, the grown-ups burst into laughter, and I lower my eyes.

‘So, what do you want, young Muna? Are you a Hellequin aspirant?’

My eyes widen, and I shake my head.

‘My name’s Kauri. I’m just a shepherd.’

Soledad walks up to me and bends down so her face is level with mine.

‘I admire courage, so if you want a spot on my team, I’ll keep it warm for you. Once you’re old enough to apply, that is.’

I swallow and try to blurt something out. But before the words come, she pats my shoulder the way you’d praise a briard after a long day’s work.

‘No…’

‘Hmmm?’ she says, narrowing her eyes.

‘I said no. There… there has to be a better way. Like Niavhe and Kaibara. Everything worked out because they listened, not because of violence! Maybe this time it’s the same!’

‘Annoba. Garuda. Ghun-shal. The Kraken…’

She turns to Basira.

‘Cingula.’

Then she places a hand on my cheek.

‘I know you’re young. Kaibara is an exception. We don’t even really know what happened. It’s practically a fable now. You’re still a child, but if you ever hope to become an adult, you’ll have to stop believing in fairy tales.’

I stare at her, incredulous. Why wouldn’t she understand? Around us, everyone begins to lose interest in me.

‘Wait… listen to me…’

But it’s no use. No matter how much I clear my throat and try to raise my voice, it’s only the faintest whisper, drowned in the din and jostling of a horde getting ready to spill blood.