Moonless Nights

The capital of Gesmaura hummed with the hustle and bustle of life. People crowded the sidewalks and rushing carts were brought to a standstill in city traffic bottlenecks, the drivers yelling at the traffic director to let them through. Indeed, all walks of life came together in the chorus of voices that made up the symphony of Modrica, from the slums of the Unforgivables to here, the ritzy and glamorous Capitol District.

Hana Sabatka, fifteen years of age, chef's apprentice, darted through the throngs of people crowding the walkways, past high-end designer boutiques and overpriced restaurants. She carried a plush bag tucked under her arm, clutching it closer to her c.h.e.s.t every time she wormed her way past an irate group of tourists.

"News here!" cried a Worker boy, hawking a stack of newspapers. "Today's headline: Unforgivable Suspected Of Terrorist Plot At Large After Prison Escape—Five Guards Dead Of Mysterious Wounds!"

Hana blasted past him and across the street, upsetting a few giant land slugs along the way.

"Oj då!" shouted the traffic attendant. "Little lady, you cross the street when I tell you to!"

She didn't even turn to acknowledge him. A right, a left, another right, and her feet pounded up the excessive amount of steps leading to the Continental Court.

"Halt!" A police officer stopped her. "Security's up after last night. You know the drill. Open the bag and arms to the side!"

"But I've been here already!" she protested. "I'll be later than I already…"

"Not my problem. Oh Gods of Land and Sky, hear my prayer and bestow your divine blessings upon me: telum revelaresi." His magical staff glowed and he swiped up and down Hana's body with it. "Clear." He poked around her bag, revealing a score of fresh, white eggs. "Uhh… clear. Have a nice day, ma'am."

Hana snatched it back and continued on her frenetic journey.

"No running!" scolded a security guard patrolling the halls, but Hana didn't listen to her, either. Finally she reached her destination and swung open two large, wooden doors, revealing a humongous ballroom where hundreds of people were seated, talking amongst themselves and eating.

She slipped past them and took her place behind a buffet line, greeting the chef.

"I got more eggs!" she gasped, opening up the bag.

"Of course the buffet wasn't good enough for these snobs," he huffed, cracking a few open and scrambling them together. He poured the mixture on a hot pan and added spinach and cheese. "Of course they all wanted made-to-order eggs! I need a cigarette…" He hastily plated the omelet and shoved it in her hands. "Egg girl! Run this out and get back here asap! You're gonna love the guy who ordered this. And get back to cooking the eggs afterwards!"

"Yes, sir."

Hana took it with her and sighed, staring down at the order ticket. When she was accepted into this internship, it was a dream come true, but neither the chef nor the sous-chef taught her anything. They just yelled at her all day and forced her to make eggs. She walked to the table, only realizing too late who she was headed toward—the twelve High Judges of the Continental Court, sitting together. All of them were at least forty years old, except for one person, a short yet handsome brunette man with shoulder-length locks tied in a ponytail. His eyes were also brown, with little flecks of amber in them, and he was dressed impeccably in a dress shirt and pinstripe pants. He glowered at her, and dare Hana say—his nose was literally upturned. He looked way too young for the rest of the lot, and very unhappy.

"Spinach omelet…?" she squeaked, trembling.

"Oh, great, the forty-five minute omelet has arrived," said the brown-haired man, and his inflection was as snobby as he looked. "Put it here."

Hana did as he asked (er, commanded), and he picked up his fork, stabbing it into the omelet. Wrinkling his nose, he pulled the fork back out, shoving it in her face. It was coated in a layer of slime.

"It's runny," he said.

"Is that a problem, sir?" she choked. She wanted more than anything right now to escape. This guy terrified her.

"Well, yes, it is," he said. "You see, I ordered an omelet, not egg water. Oh, and the spinach-to-egg ratio is all wrong. There's too much spinach. Do I look like a rabbit to you?"

"I'm sorry!" Hana apologized. "I'll get you a new one right away…"

He scoffed. "Don't bother. It's not like I actually need to eat. You know, I've paid for some pretty bad catering before, but at least none of them have tried to give me food poisoning."

"Oh, lay off it!" another judge piped up. "You're not getting food poisoning! Have some mercy on her! She's just a young girl!"

"Hm? Then it's better she learns early to get competent enough for a.d.u.l.thood. And server, one more thing."

"Yes?" Hana's voice was barely above a whisper now.

"Look at this." He held up his cup of coffee.

"Your coffee…?"

"It was made with whole milk when I specifically requested 2%. I can taste the difference. Can I see your manager, please?"

"Ugh!" The other judge slammed down her fork. "I'm so sorry, miss. He's always like this. Believe me, nothing you do can please him. Gods, Za…"

She was cut off when a policeman approached. He motioned to the scary man and whispered something in his ear.

"Huh… what?" He sprang to his feet. "Yes, take me there at once." He turned and addressed the others. "I'll be back shortly. And server, if you know what's good for your career, I'd take that omelet and coffee off the bill." And with that, he left, trailing behind the cop. They looked like they were in a hurry.

"Again, I'm so sorry for him," said the female judge. "He gets rude when he's overwhelmed with work. Here, dear, take this for your troubles." She took out her wallet and plopped several coins into Hana's hand.

She gasped at the sum.

Fifty kronora, nice!

She thanked the woman and returned to the very amused chef.

"Aha! Wasn't he sunshine and rainbows? You look like he smashed a puppy in front of you! All right, back to work. Poached eggs, get on it!"

She cracked an egg, her three hundredth for that day.

It slid off the side of the bowl as the doors burst open.

Scores of policemen, kitted out in protective gear, their staffs at full attention, flooded the room, surrounding the premises.

"This is an emergency evacuation order!" commanded one, speaking into his staff. The magic boosted his voice, like a megaphone. "Everyone must leave immediately. If anyone stays behind, they do so at risk of arrest and potential grievous bodily injury! Allow the officers to escort you outside, calmly, single file line. Do not under any circ.u.mstances reenter the building until given the all-clear."

"Hell," the head chef whistled through his teeth. "If I lose all my equipment, I'm suing. Come on, you heard the pigs!"

The catering company employees abandoned their station and entered the evacuation line, which, admittedly, was organized, but only because of the police.

"What's happening?" whispered one of Hana's coworkers as they were escorted off the property.

"I didn't notice anything wrong…" said another.

"Maybe it has something to do with that terrorist who escaped last night?" asked yet another.

"Suspected terrorist," the last employee chimed in.

The police didn't let them go until they were at least twenty meters away.

"Stay where you are!" an officer said. "All right! Evacuation complete! All units! Search the premises until…"

A cacophonous explosion from the higher floors drowned his shouting out. The windows burst open, sending out pieces of glass and wood to the streets below. A fiery blaze reached its tendrils to the sky, enveloping the Continental Court in flames. Smoke bellowed from every broken window to every crack in the woodwork.

People screamed and shouted, panicking. The explosion drew a crowd of bystanders. Hana squeezed through them.

"What was that?" someone screeched.

"The Court's on fire!"

And then, above everyone else:

"MY APARTMENT!"

The snobby man ran forward, hands clasping both sides of his head.

"That was my apartment!"

"Sir," said a police officer, "please stand back and let the fire brigade come. What's important is you're safe!"

"No! No, no, no!" he sputtered. "You don't get it! My babies are in there!"

"What? I'm certain we evacuated everyone. But if not, the firefighters will rescue your children…"

"Ugh! Out of my way!" With great strength, he pushed him aside, sprinting into the burning building. "My babies! I can't believe I forgot to get my babies!"

"Did he just…?" sputtered the policeman.

Hana covered her mouth as the smoke wafted toward her. It was really thick now… surely he would die? He was mean to her, but that didn't mean she wanted him to get hurt. She understood his fear. No parent should lose their child. After all, her parents never really recovered after losing Silvio.

Silvio…

Was it three years now? She thought of what he would do in this situation. Of course, she knew what he would've done already. His heartstrings tugged, Silvio would rush in headfirst like a moron to help and get himself in trouble. But that ability to make quick decisions and stand up for what he thought was right were qualities she always envied in him.

Hana pulled out her staff. It was collapsible, just a basic travel staff, but it had what she wanted. The stones required to teleport. Steeling herself, she tightened the grip around her staff…

… And ran into the building after the man.

Just once in her life, maybe she could be brave and dumb like Silvio? The man had no staff on him. Even if he managed to find his children, he wouldn't be able to escape in time, but if she could teleport them outside, then…!

The smoke hurt her eyes and got in her throat. Letting out a flurry of coughs, she pressed her toque to her mouth to keep it out. She tried calling out for the man, but her voice cracked whenever she attempted to speak.

She couldn't find him.

He wasn't on the first level, so that meant…

He was upstairs, where the fire raged.

Coughing more, she closed her eyes and felt her way up the stairs, staggering down the hallway.

"… Kids?"

His panicked voice carried in the hall, over the oppressive heat of the flames.

Why wasn't he coughing? How hadn't he passed out?

"Babies! Where are you, babies?"

Hana coughed and fell over, blacking out.

--

"… You're a special brand of stupid, you know that?"

Hana awoke abruptly, able to breathe clearly.

"When humans breathe in too much smoke, you know what happens? They die."

She gasped. Was the fire out? No, she still felt the heat. Opening her pained eyes, her questions were answered. A bubble encapsulated her head, letting her breathe. The snobby man held her staff, tapping it against his other hand.

"How long was I out for?" she asked.

"About five seconds." He rubbed his temples. "Great. Just great! Now I have to take care of you, and my babies will burn!" He furiously rubbed away the tears at his eyelids. He tried to sound calm, but his voice wavered.

"That's what I'm here for!" Hana choked.

"What?"

"I want to help you."

"You…!" He scowled, as if to lecture her, but his countenance faltered, and he then burst into ugly tears. "You're so… so… nice! Why? But you can't!" He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around. "You're heading down these stairs right now, and…!"

The ceiling partially collapsed, covering the stairway in burning wood and plaster.

"… N-Never mind. You're staying with me." He sputtered and paced. "My babies… where could they be? I already checked my apartment…"

"What do your children look like?" asked Hana.

"Ohhh, well…" He wrung his hands, sniffling pathetically. "W-Winston, he's four, and Buttercup is two…"

What sort of irresponsible moron leaves children that young alone? she wanted to shout.

"They both have the tiniest littlest legs, and it's very cute when they try to jump on the couch. Oh! Winston is the darker one, and Buttercup's ears are too big for her face…" He sobbed. "Winston's tongue is always out, and he really loves his squeaky toys. Buttercup has a black patch of fur on her bottom, and her favorite thing in the world is destroying my designer shoes…"

"Sir," asked Hana, "are your children… corgis?"

He gave her a pointed look. "What else would they be?" he snapped. "Winston! Buttercup! Where are you, babies?"

… Really?

He ran into a burning building for a couple of corgis? At least that explained why they weren't evacuated.

"Okay…" She exhaled a long exhale. "Since they're so close to the ground, they probably haven't breathed in any smoke yet. They must be hiding."

"Ah…! You're right!" He brightened up. "That's right! I was in such a rush, I forgot to close the door to my apartment this morning! They must be in another room! You're somewhat useful, you know that?"

"… Thank you?"

That moment, the rest of the hallway ceiling came down.

"Watch out!" he gasped. A beam of light appeared in his hand, and suddenly he pulled a giant hammer from nowhere. Winding it back, he gave a mighty swing and smacked the debris away from her.

Hana gaped. "Who… are you…?" She asked. The weapon pulled from thin air, the fact the fire didn't bother him at all… he must be…

"You don't know who I am? Really?" He blinked. "That explains a lot." He grabbed her and bounded over the debris, his steps landing buoyant as air. "It's Zagiha. You might've heard the name before, hmm?"

"You're the God of Truth and Justice!" she gasped.

"How astute. Kids! Buttercup! Winston! Come out! Please! Daddy's here to rescue you!"

He kicked open a door. The room was totally empty. Another one… and another…

The smoke was thicker now, and Hana's bubble was running out of oxygen.

"I can't see anything!" he cried. "They could be anywhere!" He paused. "... Wait a minute. You!" He turned to Hana. "Use your annoying, high-pitched baby voice and squeak! Squeak for dear life!"

"Annoying… high-pitched… baby… voice?"

"Just do it!" He shouted.

"Um… squeak?"

"Put some soul into it, woman!"

"Squeak… Squeak! SQUEAK! SQUEAK!"

"That's it!" Zagiha bellowed. "Just a little more!"

From one of the rooms they already checked, a Pembroke Welsh Corgi trotted out, searching for the squeaky toy.

"Winston!" Zagiha cried, and he scooped the dog up, using the staff to put a bubble around his head as well. "My chubby-wubby baby boy! All safe and sound! Daddy's got you… Don't just stand around, girl! Go in the room and grab Buttercup! I can't carry two corgis at once!"

"Uh… right." The heat was too much to tolerate now. Hana got on her hands and knees and crawled in the room, holding her breath to save as much air as possible. And then she heard it. A small w.h.i.n.e coming from behind a bench. Peering over it, she accidentally exhaled in relief.

There was the other dog, with a black patch of fur on her bum as described.

"Come here…" She wrapped her hands around the corgi's belly and lifted it. Buttercup yelped in shock and nipped at her, causing her to drop her. Howling in terror, the dog bolted out the room.

Corgis were a lot faster than their stumpy legs suggested.

"After that corgi!" she cried, stumbling after it.

"Buttercup!" Zagiha screeched. "No! We're running out of time!" They ran to the final room at the end of the hall, cornering Buttercup, who returned the favor by flattening her ears and snarling at them.

Flames danced around them. Every wall was on fire now. There was no escape.

"We have to leave!" shouted Hana. "Where's my staff?"

"The staff?" Zagiha looked down, and then his expression morphed into a nervous grin. "I, uh… I dropped it. It's just past… the… terrifying... wall of… flames."

"We have to… we have to…"

Too late. There was no air left. Grabbing for the stray corgi, she fell, and everything went black.