Distorted Lands | Book 1 of the Telepath Cycle

{1} Late At Night...

Karlen's breath misted as he sighed.

The sun had set over an hour ago and the night sky was grey, tinted by the clouds. Dilapidated buildings—either barely held together or abandoned from disrepair—surrounded Karlen, stretching out as rows in both directions. Between the run-down buildings to the uneven, rocky road, it was easy to tell that they were in the bad part of town.

Nobody spoke a word. Karlen and his fellow pasidnyy—the Glavni word for 'police officers'—had been standing outside for hours, waiting for the moment they could finally leave. Their patrol was supposed to only run up to an hour, but it'd been pushed back after some khonitva—members of a gang—had been discovered in some hidden passageways. Then, they were forced to wait even longer as the pasidnyy within thoroughly searched the rest of the building.

Although none of them wanted to be there, it made sense that they were putting so much time into this search. It wasn't every day they had a lead on the khonitva—who were the main bringers of crime to their town of Kavo—and they had to use this opportunity to its fullest. But that wasn't the only reason, either.

Earlier that evening, Caspar—the konyushy, or the right-hand of the governor—had been ambushed and threatened by the khonitva. It'd kicked off such a fuss that even Gennadi—the bolyar, or governor—had come out of his manor to help the pasidnyy take care of the situation.

Karlen didn't know much about politics, but it sounded appropriate that Gennadi, who had powerful wind magic, would come out to help Caspar, the man who did most of Gennadi's job.

Now, though, Karlen had a bigger concern than politics or any of what happened earlier that evening. Now, it was nighttime. And nighttime was when bolyui were most powerful.

So Karlen shuddered as he pulled his scarf over his nose, once again scanning his surroundings for anything unusual.

Just like the rest of the last hour, nothing stood out. The streets were completely empty besides them—the pasidnyy—who had mostly gathered out front of the khonitva's base. Their torches were the only source of light besides the ethereal light filtering through the clouds. The snow piling on the ground was untouched by all but their own footsteps.

Half out of the desire for something to do and half to sate his anxiety, Karlen found his eyes scanning higher than the streets—to the rooftops.

And, there, he saw a figure.

Heart skipping a beat, Karlen lifted his torch a bit higher and took a step forward, trying to get a better look at whatever he saw. But there was nothing there—as far as he could see, not even the snow on the roof was disturbed.

"You okay there, Karl?" a voice asked.

Karlen unwittingly jumped, twisting on his heel to face the source of the voice—another officer and a friend of his, Melina, who now wore an obnoxious grin on her lips.

But Karlen's pounding heart didn't let him feel any annoyance. Instead, he forced out a laugh, but still couldn't help but glance back at the rooftop.

"Yeah," he said hesitantly, "I just thought I saw something. False—"

More movement flashed out of the corner of his eye—this time, in a nearby alleyway. Karlen jumped, quickly turning to try and catch whatever it was in his torchlight.

But, once again, there was nothing there but snow and shadow.

"—alarm," Karlen finished, swallowing as he forced a grin onto his lips and met Melina's eyes again.

He had to hide how desperately he tried focusing in on his peripheral vision, struggling to see whatever it was he kept thinking he saw. An animal? he hoped.