Chapter 1

I trace the cool, smooth edge of Fallah’s amulet with my thumb as I stare out at another new world.

Slate gray clouds hunker over a packed dirt road stretching between two rows of wooden buildings. Each structure is cobbled together from a random assortment of planks, bleached a faded gray and warped by the sun.

But my destination—the source of the tiny voice whispering at the periphery of my mind—lies amidst the towering trees of the forest beyond.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Captain Su’mik warbles at me. The Rhandannan is about a head shorter than I, feathers as black as my hair with white tips. 

In the six months since I left home to follow this new path, Su’mik has asked that same question whenever we make landfall. Every time, I give him the same answer. 

“This is it.”

“I can’t fathom what you could want with such tiny trees,” he quips, ochre beak clacking in the Rhandannan version of laughter.

I offer a thin smile and start down the ship’s ramp. “It isn’t the trees I’m here for.”

“How long?” Su’mik calls after me.

I pause and probe at the whisper in my mind. “A day at the most.”

He bobs his head in acknowledgment. “We shall wait.”

I smile again, broadly this time, and return his nod. “Thank you.”

The exchange has become a welcome ritual, a small semblance of consistency in my life since leaving Fletcher, Gohk, and Rhuk behind. I miss them, but the path I’ve chosen doesn’t leave any room for attachment. Or respite. How can I rest knowing Darkness lurks out there? Knowing I’m the only one with the power to halt its inexorable, creeping progress across the galaxy?

That reality speeds my steps the rest of the way down the ramp, onto packed dirt as hard as the metal my feet just left. Yet, I welcome the incremental springiness of the natural surface. And I appreciate the uniqueness of my surroundings: fresh air heavy with the scent of pollen and moist soil; deep browns and vibrant greens, which are a welcome respite from the matte sheen of metal; and the wide open space and limitless sky of an actual planet. 

A wooden wall, slanted outward, rings the perimeter of the landing pad, hiding the settlement from view, but not the pointed tips of the trees spearing toward the gray sky. It’s most likely meant to redirect dust, dirt, or pebbles kicked up by a ship’s exhaust. A narrow opening allows passage through the wall, to the packed dirt road I spotted before. 

It’s a few dozen steps to the first building, but before I even make it halfway, a board falls free. Instead of clattering on the ground, two pairs of legs unfold, catching its fall. The central ‘board’ remains stiff, but two stalks uncoil from the leading edge, bulbous, multifaceted eyes appearing at their tips.

Beneath where the stalks connect to the board, a third stalk uncoils, ending in a round opening. Its mouth, maybe? I’m proven right when it chitters at me in sounds I can’t decipher. The computer Rhuk built into the powered sleeve he gifted me spits out a translation. 

“Hello! Welcome to Aessup.”

I freeze in place, staring up at the living board towering over me. “Uh… Hi.” 

Its eyestalks point down at me. “What brings you our way?”

“I’m just passing through,” I say, and wave to the forest at the far end of town.

It pivots to look down the street, to where the packed dirt disappears into the trees. Then, it swivels back, and its bark-like skin lightens from an ashen gray to off-white. 

“The forest is dangerous.”

“I have business there.”  

The living board considers me with its unnervingly mobile eyeballs for a very long time. 

I stare back, wondering what it’s thinking. Does it find me as strange as I find it? Of course, I’m the alien here. In fact, I’ve been the alien on every single planet and space station I’ve visited over the last six months. Across a dozen worlds, and as many species, I’m the only one of my kind. Unless I count all the Kaisin I’ve saved. Which I don’t.

Finally, the living board stirs. 

“Take care. Do not stray far and do not linger past dark.”

“Why not?” I ask. In my experience, it’s better to know what dangers I may run into rather than stumbling upon them unaware.

“There are white monsters deep in the forest,” it replies. “They steal our nectar and kill us.”

“I’ll be careful,” I say, anger blooming in my chest over what the Kaisin have done to these tranquil beings. 

Without another word, it turns and walks back to the building it fell from.

As I continue between what I thought were buildings, more planks begin to stir. Some fall like the first, fully transformed from their inert state before hitting the ground. Others stay put, but lean away from their respective wooden structures, eye stalks straining to get a view of their strange visitor.

Between the shifting planks, I glimpse stacks of clear spherical globules filled with an amber substance – presumably the nectar the first living board mentioned. Each structure is packed with spheres. Likely the reason the Kaisin are here in the first place. What could this nectar be for that they’d set up shop here and kill the indigenous population for it? Whatever the answer, I’m not surprised by the Kaisin’s foul behavior; I’ve witnessed far too much of it over the years. It’s something I can’t save them from.

I turn my attention back to the packed dirt road and follow it into the trees. 

The dull light of the overcast sky is muffled by canopies so thick I can’t even glimpse the sky. A few steps into the ghostly twilight, I reach for the visor clipped to my right shoulder, slip it over my eyes, then tap a button on my wrist. The scene before me brightens, but shifts to sepia. Still, a little loss of color is far superior to stumbling my way around in the dark. 

I thank Rhuk, for the thousandth time, for the gift he gave me. I wear it like a second skin, and it has turned out to be as useful in my crusade against the whispers crowding the back of my mind.

A little deeper into the forest, the path narrows and begins to snake around the trees. Not too long after that, it disappears altogether. But even without a road to guide me, I know where I’m going. 

I clamber over a fallen tree, detour around a cluster of boulders, then pick my way up a steep slope. The tree trunks serve as handholds as I haul myself from one protruding root to the next. At the top, I follow a winding ridgeline toward the whispering in my mind. 

The darkness hiding inside every Kaisin.

I called my own little sliver of darkness Iali, which is the Quiloh word for darkness. And I gave it a name because it exhibited an inkling of individuality. A trait I believed the collective entity as a whole didn’t possess. However, hunting It across the sector has proven me wrong. It very much possesses flickers of individuality. Shadows of self. 

So, that’s what I’ve named It: Yuul. The Quiloh word for ‘shadow’.

I fidget with the smooth wooden pendant tucked into my left pocket. In times like these, the reality of being all alone hits full force. Of course, being alone isn’t my preference. While Fallah is always with me in spirit, the fact she never got to share the freedom I’ve gained stings. Every single day. And believe it or not, I even miss Iali’s warm pressure at the back of my mind. 

Beyond those two, I can’t imagine anyone else as a companion on my journey. Not Fletcher. Not Gohk. Not even Rhuk, despite how supportive he’d been of my decision to strike out on my own. Because as much as I want a companion, I can’t trust anyone enough to tell them the truth about the Yuul hiding in every Kaisin. Nor can I allow them to share in the danger of my task.

So, all alone, I continue into the wilderness.

The ridge eventually descends into a valley, where the forest thins out enough for the overcast light to reach me. I move faster without my visor, and the whispering at the edge of my mind grows to a crescendo.

I hurry up a gentle rise and crouch next to a tree at the top. Below, in a clearing, is a collection of square wattle and daub huts grouped around a circular fire pit maybe a dozen feet across, judging by the three Kaisin crouching beside it. Next to the settlement is a packed circle of dirt ringed by a wooden wall. A landing pad, it looks like. Probably how they’re shipping all the stolen nectar off world. 

Movement at the treeline draws my attention to the far side of the settlement. A few more Kaisin walk into view, carrying spears and dragging what looks like one of the living boards between them. The dark stain smeared on the dirt in their wake suggests why the living boards call these Kaisin monsters.

Settling down next to the tree, I spend the next few hours watching the Kaisin. From their comings and goings, I’d guess about ten live in the small community. And by the strength of the whispering at the back of my mind, there’s a greater than usual concentration of Yuul shared between them. That shouldn’t be a problem. If things go off without a hitch, they won’t even know I was here.

I place my back against the tree, out of sight of the circle of huts, intending to wait until nightfall. Hours pass, yet the overcast sky remains the same shade of gloomy gray, as still and eerily silent as the forest pressing in around me. I almost breathe a sigh of relief at a peal of distant thunder.

But it isn’t thunder.

The rumble grows in intensity, joined by the characteristic high-pitched whine of engines. I poke my head out from behind the tree just in time to watch a ship dip beneath the clouds and descend toward the settlement. A cloud of kicked-up dust obscures the craft for a moment. When it clears, the silvery oval is sitting in the middle of the landing pad, balanced on four thin struts. 

A ramp extends from the craft’s side, and a Kaisin wearing a bright red jumpsuit strolls out. The residents of this settlement meet the visitor—obviously a stranger—with drawn spears.

Their conversation is unintelligible at this distance, but whatever words are exchanged shift the mood from tense, to wary, to cordial. And eventually, the visitor is ushered into the settlement and offered a seat by the fire. Food is cooked, drinks are served, and raucous conversation drives back the forest’s eerie silence.  

Settling back into my hiding place, I stare into the trees. Night falls more slowly than I’d like, creeping closer like a specter. Shortening my vision, until the nearest trunks are shadowy pillars in the flickering light of the roaring bonfire at the center of the Kaisin settlement below.

My hand twitches toward the visor clipped to my shoulder, but I stop myself from slipping it on. Saving the charge left in my powered arm’s batteries is more important than glimpsing a bit farther into the trees. While staring into the darkness, however, I hear a low drone carrying through the forest. The noise grates on my nerves and sets my teeth on edge as it fills the silence.

Finally.

Leaving my hiding place, I peer down into the circle of huts. It’s quiet and still, except for the flickering of flames in the fire pit. 

Something is off.

I reach toward the edge of my mind for the whispering of the Yuul, but it’s gone. 

That doesn’t make any sense. The Kaisin were just here.  

In a low crouch, I hurry down the slope, toward the circle of huts while listening for the sound of footsteps. Or voices. Or any other sign of the Kaisin I’ve been watching all day. Only the persistent drone carries through the forest. As does the crackling of the bonfire.

I pause at the corner of the first hut and peer around the circle for Kaisin. When none appear, I slip into the hut. Donning my visor, I thumb the button on my wrist that activates dark vision. The tiny room is bare, except for a narrow cot against the far wall with a rough wooden chest beside it. A single Kaisin is lying on the cot. Asleep. Just as I intended. 

Creeping toward it, I reach out my right hand and lay my fingers on the Kaisin’s bare arm. When I probe inside, I find nothing.

I frown and try again, reaching deep for the remnant of the Yuul that should be lurking inside. Again, I find nothing. This Kaisin is somehow free of the Yuul.

Puzzled, I retreat to the door and make my way to the next hut. Another Kaisin is sleeping inside. When I lay a hand on their bare skin, I detect no sign of the darkness I expect to find lurking deep inside. Just like there’s no longer any whisper at the back of my mind. 

My heart begins to race as I slip to the next hut. 

In my haste, I stumble into something by the door as I enter. The makeshift spear clatters to the ground, bouncing on the soft dirt floor. I clench my teeth and freeze, glancing down at the spear then at the Kaisin on the cot across from the door. 

They don’t stir.

Pulse thundering in my ears, I cross the hut and bend down to lay a hand on the Kaisin’s exposed shoulder. Its skin is icy. And for the first time, I notice the Kaisin isn’t breathing. 

Something shuffles at the door. 

I spin and raise my arm in time to block a powerful blow. The servos in the arm Rhuk built for me whine under the strain of holding back a fist coated in undulating darkness. More of the black ichor coats half of the Kaisin’s face, leaving the other half exposed, its jittery blue eye struggling to focus on me.

This isn’t good.

I scramble backwards in an attempt to create some space between us. The Kaisin leaps after me, tackling me over the lifeless body occupying the cot. My head slams into the wall, knocking the visor free of my face and sending a burst of stars across my vision.

Hands knot in the fabric of my shirt, and I lash out. My fist hits something hard, and the Kaisin recoils. 

Leaping to my feet, I dart past the reeling Kaisin and into the flickering firelight. A moment later, it stumbles into view. Lunges at me. I catch its outstretched ichor-coated fist and twist to avoid the sluggish follow-up swing from the other. 

I slam my palm up under its chin and grab hold of its jaw, fingers sinking into the wriggling darkness. Then, I reach inside and draw the Yuul out of the Kaisin. It struggles and fights, but there’s no escape as I crush the darkness out of existence. When I’m finished, the Kaisin goes limp and the whispering ceases.

Easing the now-lifeless body to the ground, I sag to my knees beside it. The warmth of the crackling fire nearby soothes the aching in my head and the tender spots popping up across my body that’ll be bruises by tomorrow.  

I let out a sigh and glance down at the dead Kaisin, for the first time noticing his red jumpsuit. This was the strange Kaisin that the others greeted with so much hostility. 

Why is this Kaisin here? If it isn’t for the nectar, then is it here for me? But why? Could the Yuul be responding to my actions these last six months? Maybe so. But why did it take so long for the Yuul to respond?

I frown when no answer springs to mind, which leaves me with a sinking feeling I can’t shake.

Like whatever happened here is the start of something bigger. 

I look at the dead Kaisin again, its blue eyes glassy and lifeless as they stare up into the starlit sky.

All I can do is hope this was just a fluke. A one-off occurrence that won’t repeat itself. Because I really can’t stand things becoming any more complicated than they already are.