CHAPTER ONE

FROM THE FIRE

Mariana

Red light bled through the cracks in the shutters. Outside, panicked voices shouted to one another. Windows and doors slammed. Feet pounded the dirt like drums. She stared, unable to move until the crescendo of noise and thrashing of her heart became too much to ignore.

Mariana flew to the window and threw open the shutters.

A flickering, orange glow painted the buildings. Though a chill clung to the winter night, waves of heat emanated from fire to the north. Below her window, the villagers fled, some still in their bedclothes, others struggling to dress. Mariana traced their path upstream until she was looking into the heart of the flames, the brightness growing steadily.

She darted away from the window to the armoire. Her field trousers and shirt from that day lay haphazardly inside. Grabbing them both, she shoved them on over her sleepwear. Then, she dived to the floor, reaching an arm beneath the bed to grab her best boots. The second she had them on, the door flew open.

“Mari!” Helena tumbled through. Her eyes were wide with panic as she fell to her hands and knees, chest heaving.

Mariana hurried forward and helped her younger sister stand. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know! It must be a raid.”

Together, they fled the room. As they passed an open door in the hallway, Mariana skidded to a halt. “Find Mamãe and Papai,” she shouted to her sister.

Backtracking to the doorway, she found Arsenio struggling to get his arms through a black leather vest. He wore only one boot and his hair stood up straight. He must have been the last to wake.

“Brother!” Mariana called, beckoning him with a flapping hand.

“One second,” Arsenio replied through gritted teeth. He nearly ripped the vest in two before his other arm slid through the hole. Then, he sank onto the bed, his foot high in the air while he shoved the second boot into place. He looked around the room, again muttering, “One second.”

“We don’t have another second!” Mariana pleaded.

Lunging forward, he snatched a black pouch from the bookshelf. As he followed his sister out of the bedroom, he grabbed a burgundy sash which hung by the door. Mariana tried not to roll her eyes at him as she led him down the stairs. Even in a crisis, her twin was never one for impropriety.

Helena stood in the kitchen with their parents.

“—people are trapped,” their papai, Severino, was saying.

“My children,” said their mamãe, Luzia, noticing Mariana and Arsenio arrive. She pulled all three of the siblings into a firm embrace. Mariana felt her mother’s heart racing through her shirt.

“Are they the Benevolent Leader’s men?” Mariana asked.

“It appears so,” Severino replied.

“Two days before we leave?” Arsenio said, eyes wide and fearful. He looked to both of their parents. “Do you think he knows?”

“We can’t be certain,” Papai said.

“Are we—”

“There’s no time,” Luzia said. “Corva sum Rio is burning. We’ll be safest at the outpost.”

She turned and threw open the back door.

In the street, the pandemonium had escalated. The low rumble of footfalls and the crackling of the flames underscored the screams of fleeing villagers. Mariana caught glimpses of people she knew, people she’d grown up with. Sabina Coelho dragged her kid brother behind her. Renato Freitas carried a sobbing old woman on his back. None of them paid her any mind as her mamãe ushered her and her siblings across the threshold.

Beyond the back door, a strange mixture of cold and hot air intensified.

“Come now, quickly,” her papai said.

The five made to join the fleeing throngs, but at the last moment, Luzia held back.

“Severino,” she said, suddenly distraught. “Galina had watch tonight.”

For a moment, Mariana’s father looked like he might dismiss his wife’s last-minute concern, but her insistent expression made clear she was unwilling to let it go. Mariana watched her parents’ unspoken exchange with confusion. If Galina had been at the outpost on watch tonight, didn’t that mean she was already safe?

“It may be too late, love,” Severino said in a low voice.

“We can’t know that,” Mamãe replied. “I will go to her house. Take our children to the Wild Wood, to the outpost.”

“Luzia, I—”

“There’s no time,” she said firmly.

Helena frowned, grabbing their mother’s arm. “You are not coming with us?”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Luzia said, pressing a hand to her daughter’s face. Beside them, a scream rose as an older woman fell in the street. Those behind her did what they could to dart out of the way, but with the crowd’s momentum, some couldn’t avoid trampling her.

Luzia removed her daughter’s grip. “Go. Now! All of you!”

She turned and began fighting her way against the tide. Confusion and anger mixed inside Mariana, squashing her sense of fear.

“Wait!” she cried. “Where are you—”

“Come,” her father said, taking her wrist. “We must get to safety.”

He began dragging the siblings down the gentle slope of the village, away from the fire. Stunned, she let him lead her for a few paces before coming to her senses.

She can’t go alone.

“No,” Mariana said firmly. She planted her foot and wrenched her wrist from her papai’s grasp. He let out a grunt of surprise, but before he could say anything, she chased after her mamãe.

Mariana slid through the throngs with less agility than Luzia, though she managed to keep her in view. Once, she glanced back to see if Papai had come after her, but found, with relief, that he was nowhere in sight. He must have decided he couldn’t leave both Arsenio and Helena into danger just to give chase. That was fine with Mariana. She was the most capable of her siblings.

Everywhere she looked, fires licked the black sky like angered demons. The farther into the fray she followed Luzia, the more terrifying the flames became. Walls crumbled, windows shattered, and a building collapsed. Although her mamãe moved with purpose, Luzia paused multiple times. First, to help an old man who had fallen, and again to coax a child from her hiding place beneath a stairwell. Each time she slowed her pace to help someone, Mariana was able to close the gap a little more.

“Mamãe! Wait for me!” she cried, though she knew Luzia couldn’t hear her.

Down another street she followed, hands raised to block the heat from her face. Perspiration beaded on her lip, and her eyes stung from the smoke. Still, she ran, trying desperately to catch up. This far into town, the streets had emptied. Luzia no longer searched the doorways and windows for stragglers. She raced through the roads and alleys before halting on a wide street near the very edge of the village. The fire burned hottest here. Flames reached out from every window, acrid smoke curling upward in thick pillars.

“Mamãe!” Mariana called, then devolved into a fit of coughs. What was she doing? There couldn’t possibly be anyone left in this part of the town. And if there was, they were beyond help.

Her mamãe began calling out, hands raised to her mouth, but the words were lost to the roar.

Mariana shouted, but it was no use.

Luzia darted forth, angling her shoulder to ram the front door. Before she could, it swung open, emitting a plume of black smoke. Luzia stumbled to a halt and, thirty paces behind her, Mariana did the same. A trio of shadowed figures emerged from the house like demons born from the fires of Vaspoena. Silhouetted by the orange glow, all that could be seen of them was the thick armor they wore as though prepared for battle.

Her mamãe turned to run, but one of the figures lunged forward and grabbed her by the hair. They yanked her back, exposing her neck to the light of the flames. In her last moments, she locked eyes with Mariana, surprise replacing the fear on her face.

Run, she mouthed, just before the armored figure slit her throat.

Mariana didn’t have time to scream. She was no longer herself. No longer the girl standing amid a forest of flame. Where she might have expected pain or anger, there was only a hollow chasm widening in her chest. As the other two dark figures advanced on her, she at last had the presence of mind to do as her mother bade. She turned and fled back the way she’d come—back to where they’d left the fleeing citizens of Corva sum Rio behind, where the world was not yet consumed by fire.

Papai. Arsenio. Helena.

She would grieve, she knew would come later. Once the danger had passed. Once there was nothing else to occupy her mind. Once feeling returned.

Through the buildings she dashed, leaving behind the advancing flames that ate away the town. She passed her home, standing dormant among the others waiting patiently to be consumed. Hers was the only window open, shutters swinging in the breeze. The orange glow behind her faded the further she ran from the fires, until the only light came from the odd lamp hanging beside a front door. She found herself among people again—stragglers who had only just mobilized after realizing the danger and those who couldn’t move any faster. She darted between them, pushing aside anyone who stumbled into her path. Only when she’d come to the edge of town where the rest of the villagers crowded, where the houses gave way to fields and forest, did Mariana slow.

She had to find her family.

Coming to a stop, she raked the mob with her eyes. Though she recognized people here and there, she caught no sign of her papai, brother, or sister. Faces melded together, some tear-streaked, others burnt and bloodied. She kept her gaze from lingering too long on any one countenance, afraid that if she registered their emotions, the dam keeping her own thoughts at bay would break. Panicked and out of breath, Mariana began fighting across the current.

Her conflicting trajectory was met by angry calls above the din of confusion. Mariana ignored them, pushing her way through despite the resistance.

“Papai! Arsenio!” she bellowed, sliding between a middle-aged couple who, for the briefest of moments, had looked like her parents. She jumped, allowing herself to be carried back a few steps in exchange for a few brief seconds of an elevated vantage. She knew her papai. He wouldn’t have entered the Wild Wood without her. He’d have waited at the tree line.

“Helena!” she called. This time someone shoved her hard. Mariana felt the wind leave her lungs. There were too many people. Before tonight, Corva sum Rio had always seemed small enough that no matter where she went, she either knew or knew of every villager, but plunged into chaos, the populace became overwhelming.

Mariana dug her toes into the gravel and fought the current again. Progress was slow, but the onslaught thinned as the villagers dispersed.

She saw the burgundy sash about his waist first, and a spark of relief cut through the dark chaos in her mind. She was not alone, her brother—her twin—was still here.

“Arsenio!” Mariana called again. Correcting course, she made for him, cutting across a half-dozen rows of people. “Arsenio!”

This time, he heard her and spun around. Their eyes met.

“Where’s Helena? Papai?” she asked. Her brother shook his head. She saw then that his face was streaked with dirt and blood. He had a cut above his left eyebrow. Grabbing her hand, he pulled her off to the side.

Mariana swallowed hard, her jaw tight. She tried again, “Helena—”

Arsenio looked away, but not before she caught the shine in his eyes.

“We were fine for a while,” he said in a distant voice. “Where the streets merged, there was no room for the crowds. Everyone kept shoving us out of their way. They tore us apart. Then one of the buildings collapsed.” Puffs of vapor curled from his lips. His voice had gone hoarse.

“I tried my best to hold onto her,” Arsenio continued. “She was by my side the whole time until the building fell. And then she wasn’t.”

Mariana’s heart tore in half. “Helena,” she breathed, suddenly dizzy.

Not her too. How could that be?

“And Papai?” she asked.

“He didn’t see what happened. When I told him, he went back to look for her body.”

He must be mistaken. Mariana made to fight the crowd again. “We have to help him. You should have—”

Her twin shook his head. “You didn’t see it happen, Mari. She was crushed. The blood…”

Mariana heard an involuntary cry of anger escape her throat. She wanted to hit him. She wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shake some sense into his head. Only minutes ago, Helena had been alive and well. As her older brother, Arsenio was responsible for her well-being. He shouldn’t have left until he’d dug her out of the rubble—even if all that remained was a bloodied body.

“We have to go back for her,” Mariana demanded.

“We have to get out of here,” Arsenio said.

“No! She needs us.”

“Papai said he would meet us at the outpost.”

“But—”

“Mari.” Arsenio held her by the arms, his eyes spilling over. “He made me promise not to let you go back.”

She bristled at the statement. “Yes, well, you also promised to keep Helena safe.”

Her twin stared back at her with wide-eyed hurt. She felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he must already blame himself, but their sister was dead and now was not the time for coddled emotions. Mariana’s throat felt constricted. This was all a deranged nightmare. She didn’t want to agree to his plan—she didn’t care about her own safety. But the words wouldn’t find her. There was too much noise. Too much destruction. Too much loss all at once.

“Where is Mamãe?” Arsenio asked, dragging his sleeve across his eyes.

“She—she’s dead too,” Mariana said, her voice lifeless. The exodus of villagers began to thin. She didn’t like how vulnerable this made her feel. Regardless of what they did next, they couldn’t stay out in the open.

“How did it happen?” Arsenio asked.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s gone,” Mariana replied brusquely.

Another crash rose up from the village. People ran past with fresh terror on their faces; wide bloody gashes marred their arms and growing stains of deep red patterned their clothes. One man stumbled by with an arrow sticking out of his back. Mariana recognized him as Laurenço Nunes, a carpenter.

“I don’t believe it,” Arsenio whispered. “Mamãe…”

“Whether you believe it or not, it’s true,” she said in a voice angrier than she felt. She turned her face away, craning her neck to see over the crowd as if her papai might come stumbling into view. Was I responsible for keeping Mamãe alive? Of course not. Luzia was the parent. “If we’re going to the outpost, we’d better leave.”

Arsenio nodded stiffly. “To the Wild Wood, then,” he muttered.

Turning his back on the village, he led the way into the mass of trees. Shadows clung to the fluted trunks as thickly as the branches overhead. Most villagers had chosen to flee down the road that eventually led to the villages in the foothills, but Mariana could see others dispersing into the foliage around her. Clustered groups headed out to face better odds of surviving the night. The further in they went, the safer she felt.

Mariana fought the encroaching tendrils of despair. Every time the face of her mamãe arose in her mind, she blinked the image away, swallowing the lump that formed in her throat. She did the same for her Helena. They were ghosts now. She banished the memories, which materialized in the darkness, her jaw drawing tighter with each dissipated specter. Grief was still something she could not afford.

Mariana had never seen so much blood. She had never seen so much fire.