Skye is dead.
How she perished is a mystery. All she knows is that she is trapped in After, a makeshift city of souls surrounded by infinite darkness and terrifying monsters that tear ghosts apart.
But while all other ghosts accept the eternity of...
"All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible."
- T. E. Lawrence
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The chaos never stopped after our escape from the king's red keep, however many days it had been since.
I kept my face hidden behind my mask while I clutched the side of the crumbly brick wall I'd climbed up. Above, a cloud of fresh ashes rose into the sky from some distant part of After. It almost looked as if a storm was on its way. And below me, a storm of a different kind already brewed in the streets at the foot of Blackburne's statue. A line of bladed guards kept the panicked and yelling masses separate from the few of the king's favored. I kept my distance from everyone, lest I be recognized, and glared up at the statue from behind my red lenses. Those pupilless eyes that lacked a soul almost seemed to do the same to me, the insignificant speck watching the commotion from the shadows.
The din reached a new octave when Blackburne's four followers parted to reveal Reynard accompanied by the king of After, himself, fresh from battle. Both men were gray from the evaporating ashes coating their skin and clothing. A deep black gash across Blackburne's face healed shut as he raised a palm and spoke. "Peace."
A dead silence fell over the crowd. Everyone went still.
I dug my fingernails into the wall I peeked over, trying to read his expression—searching for some small chink in his emotionless armor. His eyes were as lifeless as ever.
Reynard stepped forward and addressed the citizens. "Yes, there has been another shadow attack. They made it further into the city than before." His throat bobbed. "In light of this, the king has come to a decision."
Blackburne swept his cloaks aside, giving a glimpse of battle-scarred armor. There was no waver in his voice when he spoke. "We can not risk any more shadow invasions. From this night forward, all wall gates will be closed and sealed," he declared. "There will be no more leaving the city. And no one entering. The wall will be reinforced from inside the city."
"No more scavenging?" someone with a red-lensed mask asked.
"No," the king answered. "There will be no more scavenging."
"Well, what're we s'possed to do now?" another hollow asked.
While waves of duress fanned across the crowd, a line of robed figures forced their way to the front. The leader of the zealots raised his jeweled arms before the denizens of After and hollered his answer, "We must repent!" Even from yards away, I could spy the chains of saliva in his frothing mouth. "You heard your king, sinners! The time of scavengers has ended! And so will the Light worshippers!"
The crowd grew more furious at that. The guards separating the zealots and the rest of the city struggled to keep the mob contained.
