1.
Astrid
Images flash across my mind like a movie reel in fast forward. They’re so quick that they’re nothing more than bursts of light, fragments of something I can’t quite grasp. Colors swirl and bleed together. And then... darkness. With a deep inhale, I gasp at the same time my eyes snap open.
The sky above me feels wrong somehow. That’s my first coherent thought. No stars. No moon. Just a strange canvas of darkness that makes my stomach twist.
I try to sit up and immediately regret it. Pain explodes through every nerve ending in my body; the kind of pain that suggests I’ve been dropped from somewhere very, very high. My muscles scream in protest as I force myself upright, my hands sinking into loose earth and scattered rocks. And then I notice the crater.
I’m sitting on the ground in the center of it, surrounded by a perfect circle of displaced earth and shattered stone. The impact site radiates outward like someone had dropped a bomb. Or like something fell from the sky...
“What the hell?” My voice comes out raspy, my throat raw. I cough and a metallic taste fills my mouth. Blood? I run my tongue over my teeth, all there, thank the stars! Turning my head, I spit into the dirt. Yep! Definitely blood.
In my attempt to stand I stumble to my feet, swaying like a drunk at last call. My legs don’t want to cooperate, but I force them to hold my weight. I’m wearing clothes, black pants that are tattered and torn and a white shirt that’s in just about the same shape as my pants. No shoes. My bare feet are cut and bleeding, but the pain is distant, muted beneath the larger ache that encompasses my entire body.
The real problem isn’t the pain, though. The real problem is that I have absolutely no idea how I got wherever I am nor for that matter, who I am. I search my mind for something, a name, a face, a memory, but there’s nothing. Just those flashing images that make no sense, and a vast emptiness where my identity should be. It’s like someone took an eraser to my brain and wiped the slate clean.
“Okay,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around myself. “Okay. Don’t panic. You’re... you’re fine. You’re just standing in a crater with no memory, no shoes, and no memory of who the fuck I am. No big deal...”
The sarcasm helps. It feels natural, like a defense mechanism I’ve used a thousand times before. At least I haven’t lost my sparkling personality along with my memories. I climb out of the crater, my feet finding purchase on the loose earth. When I reach the edge, I get my first real look at my surroundings, and my breath catches. This is definitely not home... I don’t think, anyway.
The landscape stretches out before me in shades of shadow and strange light. Buildings rise in the distance possibly a city, but not like any city I’ve ever seen. The architecture is strange, a twisted amalgamation of Gothic spires and modern steel, connected by bridges that seem to defy physics. Everything appears to have a faint luminescence, as if the structures themselves are generating light.
Even the air feels different. Sort of Metallic. Sort of Electric. Like the moment before a lightning strike. “Where the hell am I?” I whisper as I stare at my unfamiliar surroundings. A sign catches my eye, partially obscured by twisted vegetation that looks more like tentacles than plants. I approach it cautiously, my instincts screaming that I should be careful, even though I have no idea why I’d know to be careful.
Welcome to Tenebrae City: The Heart of Tenebrosity
“Tenebrosity.” I test the word on my tongue. It means darkness, doesn’t it? Or shadow? The name fits, at least. This place feels like it exists in perpetual twilight, caught between day and night, never fully committing to either. I need to find people. Answers. Maybe a hospital, because I’m pretty sure falling from the sky isn’t great for your health. I start walking toward the city, my bare feet leaving bloody prints on the dark pavement.
The road is empty, but I can feel eyes on me. Watching. Waiting. The buildings seem to lean in as I pass, the windows like hollow eyes. Shadows move in my peripheral vision, but when I turn to look, there’s nothing there. “This is fine,” I mutter. “Just a casual stroll through Creepy town. No big deal.”
I’ve been walking for maybe ten minutes when I hear it, footsteps behind me. Not the casual footsteps of someone out for an evening walk. These are deliberate. Measured. Following. I don’t turn around. Instead, I keep walking, my pace steady, while every muscle in my body tenses. I don’t know how I know this, but I’m certain I can handle myself in a fight. There’s confidence in my body that my mind doesn’t remember earning.
The footsteps get closer. “You know,” I call out without turning, “it’s generally considered polite to announce yourself rather than lurking in the shadows like a creeper.” The footsteps stop. For a moment, there’s only silence.
Then, a voice, deep, and gravelly, with an edge of amusement that makes my spine tingle. “And it’s generally considered unusual for someone to fall from the sky and walk away from it.” I turn slowly, and my breath catches for the second time tonight.
He’s standing about twenty feet away, hands in the pockets of a black leather jacket that looks like it was made for him. Everything about him screams danger, from his imposing height to his broad shoulders to the way he holds himself, like a predator assessing prey. His skin is pale, and his hair is as black as the jacket he wears.
But it’s his eyes that pin me in place. Piercing blue, so intense they seem to glow. They’re fixed on me with an expression I can’t quite read, curiosity mixed with something darker, something almost like hunger. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I say in a huff and throw my hands on my hips in a defiant sort of stance. “I didn’t fall from the sky,”
His lips curve into a smile that doesn’t reach those unsettling eyes. “There’s a crater back there that suggests otherwise.” He takes a step closer, and I notice the way he moves, too fluid, too graceful for someone his size. “And your scent...” He trails off, his head tilting slightly as if he’s trying to solve a puzzle.
“My scent?” I raise an eyebrow, going for bravado even though my heart is hammering. “That’s not creepy at all. Do you greet all strangers by sniffing them?”
“Only the interesting ones.” Another step closer. “And you, my little fallen star, are very interesting.”
There’s something in the way he says it that makes my skin prickle with awareness. Not fear, exactly, but something close to it. Something that makes me want to run and stand my ground in equal measure. “I have a name,” I say, then pause. Do I? I search my blank memory and find, something. A whisper. “Astrid. My name is Astrid.”
“Astrid.” He says it like he’s tasting it, rolling it around in his mouth. “I’m Zane. Zane Callahan.” He’s close enough now that I can see the sharp angles of his face, the way his eyes seem to catch and hold the light. “Welcome to Tenebrosity, Astrid. Though I do wonder, what’s an angel doing in the realm of Tenebrosity?”
My blood runs cold. “I’m not...” But even as I say it, something inside me whispers that he might be right.
