Page 1 of Stars At Dusk

Prologue

Kage, at 15

The rains were back.

He felt the droplets against his skin, washing away the black paint that streaked his cheeks and his forehead, masking out all light, turning him into a shadow. He turned his face to the ground, trying to keep the colour from getting wet. If he didn’t, the Beast would be greatly displeased.

He pressed deeper into the ground, into the long grass, the sound of the pounding downpour thundering around him, coating his backside and bare feet in thick mud. His weapon lay under him, cutting into his thin ribs, but he dared not move it away lest the demon he loathed accuse him of not caring for his gear.

He heard a rustle nearby.Was Bastian still breathing? Or had the showers claimed him, washing his soul away?

For a moment, Kage wanted to cry out, to rise to his feet and charge the line, just like Bastian had. So he, too, could sacrifice his soul to the rain.

But, unfortunately, Bastian’s rush for freedom had been short-lived. The Beast had stopped Bastian with a single bolt through his side. Kage had heard the boy fall, whimper and then remain on the ground, occasionally fluttering his hands through the brush and calling out softly to the gods of Kenia for mercy.

Then the nightmare that was pure evil had crawled to Kage and whispered that Bastian had needed to fall as an example to the others. No one could break the line until the rains when cover was at its best. He’d lanced Kage across the face with his hunting knife, cutting into his already broken skin.

Kage felt no pain, for he’d so many dark shadows and agonising aches raging through him.

So many had fallen during the deluges. His father had vanished into the mist of a drizzle, his mother had slipped away during a storm, and his brother had disappeared during a trek to trade a basket of shrimp for sale when the river had peaked after a terrible flood. All taken away by the Beast himself.

His archfiend had said it was better this way, that their sacrifice to the rain gods was needed to make Kage a better warrior. He’d never cried when the black soul had shared. He’d simply gazed back at his nemesis empty-eyed. Such was his lot, caught in the spell of a devil endowed with so-called magical powers.

Just then, he heard the low trill of a thrush nightingale. The call filtered through the heavy curtain of water from the sky, sending shards of dread through his soul. Using the surging storm in his soul for leverage, he summoned the ghost within his mind and rose, tall amongst the grass and reeds.

Around him, his fellow ghouls appeared, rising like phantoms in the long grass. They raised their weapons, eyes empty, souls long gone, hearts dried to a husk. The second trill sounded, and they stepped forward into the abyss as one.

Then the precipitation fell away.

And all that remained was his pounding heart, his flailing hands, the rain from his soul streaking down his cheeks and the steadying hold of two bodies cradling him as he fought them off.

Eventually, he stilled, and they pulled away like they always did after his storms. He sat up, flush with shame, cradling his heavy head.

Then he finally opened his eyes. To meet the gaze of two boys, one with the sapphire gold gaze and the other with the strange blue glow in his irises.

They crouched on the floor beside his cot, silent, waiting like they always did.

He stared back at them, mute, unable to speak, wondering why they even bothered with him - the mute, the scarred face, the broken ghost.

Then he glanced out at the window, at the twilight beauty and clear skies of Eden City. Where there was no rain or storms or deluge or the whisper of a sinister spectre. Instead, the dusky sunset glow dipped from a bright pink to a gentle lavender, a vision so ethereal he felt his soul momentarily lift above the tempest raging in his heart.

Harlow, at 15

Divorcing her chromosome donors went as precisely as she’d imagined.

The woman. Keening, wailing and raging in the corner of the lawyer’s office.

The man. Cursing and growling, pitching himself wildly about, held back by the massive security guards he was attempting to fight.

Her lawyer. Peering on, deeply troubled.

The judge. Icy, cold and furious at the childish histrionics.

While she sat with a to-go cup of sugar laden bitterkahawain her hand, watching the drama unfold, all cool, calm and collected.

It was beauty.

For they could no longer harm her.

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