I had always loved Pentaba most after the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky became strokes of star-speckled cobalt. The insects plaguing the bogs slowed their afternoon chirpings to gentle lullabies, and the reedy foliage swayed with the breath of the breeze to their tune. The weight of the marshy humidity ebbed into cool dampness, allowing my lungs to fill without hindrance. Even the skinny-trunked swamp trees tamed, their boughs relaxing and their leaves quieting in slumber. It was comfortable, peaceful.

Lately, however, nightfall brought little more than tension and anxiety to my beloved kingdom. The moment the sun’s final rays waned into nothingness, citizens stretching from the northernmost border to the southernmost blockaded their doors and closed their windows, preferring to forego the comfort of whispering winds on their cheeks for a sleep of sound mind. I did not blame them. I had not slept well in months, either.

This particular evening, as Pentabans across the nation were hunkering themselves in for the night, I strolled the outer border of a towering spiked fence. It was constructed with the bodies of seven-year-old swamp trees, each raw trunk sanded flat on either side to lie flush against its neighbors, and I was thus unable to see the small community within its walls. I did not need to see inside. I knew who resided there. I could recall their mangled ghostly faces as clearly as if one had appeared before me, and I knew without being told it was their presence in our land that kept my people disquieted. The screeches and groans that rose from the guarded camp were enough to unsettle even the bravest of A’li-uud.

A face emerged from the darkness, but it was not the twisted blanched face of my mind. It was richly teal and shimmering, the eyes milky and the chin pointed. Strands of luminous silver hair cascaded past the oblong shape to squared, muscled shoulders and drifted to their end just above a carved abdomen. I inclined my head in greeting.

“Good evening, Chief,” he said, returning my nod with one of his own. “It is a rare privilege to see you on patrol.”

He spoke in a series of rapid clacks, his tongue snapping and popping across his palate. If any of the creatures behind the fence were attempting to eavesdrop, they would have heard nothing intelligible, but I understood the language perfectly and responded in kind.

“Hello, Xam. I trust all is well.”

“They are quiet tonight.” He flicked his gaze to the fence beside us. “The humans are relieved, but many of the A’li-uud are unnerved. I personally find their silence ominous.”

“Have they made any requests?”

“Only an additional crate of luffa fruit,” he replied.

I frowned and looked at the fence. It was as still and sturdy as ever, but the reassurance it offered in the nights prior had dissipated in the absence of the disconcerting sounds I had grown accustomed to hearing. I had been amongst the many who opposed the Council’s approval for the camp, and I feared now my doubts would be proven well-founded.

Xam, too, was staring at the barricade, but his eyes were wide and probing as if he intended to see through the solid logs to the activity within. “I do not trust them,” he admitted stonily. His hand flitted around the gaar’kon gun dangling from his hip.

“There are very few who do,” I said, instinctively tapping my own gaar’kon. “The Novai have spent centuries making enemies and neglecting alliances. Every planet they have visited has been reduced to shambles in their wake. I suspect we are the first to live side-by-side with them since they became space-bound.”

“Perhaps for a good reason,” Xam muttered darkly.

“Perhaps,” I agreed. “The Elders feel we have lost our way as a race and we are becoming the very things we scorn. They believe permitting the Novai to establish a colony on Albaterra is a step toward redemption.”

The skepticism on Xam’s face was evident even through the obscurity of eventide, but he maintained measured respect in his tone as he asked, “What do you believe, Chief?”

“I believe in the Elders,” I said at once. “As should you. Their sole dedication is to the preservation and fulfillment of the A’li-uud.”

He lowered his head in acquiescence, but his aura was still pungent with dubiety. I did not attempt to further persuade him. Compared to most Pentabans, Xam’s sentiments toward the Novai were mild, and I bore some of the same misgivings myself. The only reason I kept them subdued was because my role as War Chief required constant support for Sevani, Pentaba’s Elder, and by extension the Council as a whole. If I were to waver, the entire framework of Albaterra’s leadership could crumble apart at the destructive hands of panic and disorder.

As if to demonstrate the potential chaos, a great boom burst from the center of the camp. Smoke rolled in opaque billows toward the leafy canopies above and masked the pockets of visible sky. Screeches rattled the air in wild, raucous resonance, piercing the peace and searing my ears. A second boom closely followed the first before a sequence of cracks and claps erupted with unruly pandemonium, and the screeches doubled in number.

My gaar’kon was in my hand instantly. Despite the commotion behind the wall, the only movement to be seen was the shivering of the swamp trees and the ripples on the murky water of the nearest bog. Xam spun on the spot with his weapon drawn, searching for any sign of threat, but there were none.

“Fetch Qula,” I ordered over the furor. “He is stationed at the Polder Quarter. Remain armed, and do not alarm the humans.”

“You do not intend to investigate alone?” Xam exclaimed, jerking his head toward the fence for emphasis.

“Only until you return with Qula. Go. Now.”

Xam stared at me for a breath, clearly unsure if he should obey my command or stubbornly remain at my aid. I narrowed my eyes dangerously. With a paltry grunt of discontent, he relented and whisked into the night-shadowed trees with his gun poised and ready.

I clutched the gaar’kon close to my body and hovered my finger over the trigger as I sidled along the camp’s curved boundary. The Novai inside were still shrieking, the explosive bangs still fracturing the tranquility of the late hour, but I was unwilling to wait for Xam and Qula to accompany me, especially given the violent nature of the sounds coming from within the walls. It was nearly impossible to see the ground beneath my feet, but the beaded lights on my gun indicated its full charge with flashes of vibrant aqua, and I focused on the tiny halos around them as I walked.

Suddenly, a pallid figure sprang from the brush and landed in front of me near the fence with its eyeless face blank and its blood-red mouth leering. It rolled its head back, emitted a terrible screech to the sky, and pounced. I aimed and pulled the trigger.