Pentaba was one of the few kingdoms I had visited only once in my life, but it was perhaps one of my favorites. A vast ocean separated its marshy landmass from Montemba, an ocean that was covered in floating icebergs on our side before gradually melting into humid, weed-riddled waters on theirs. The climate was always thick and moist and left my skin feeling damp even indoors, but the air was pungent with delicious aromas of herbal foliage and swamp flowers. Just as in Montemba, the sky above was a rich hue of turquoise with swatches of lavender clouds and beads of glinting, white stars, but such a multitude of trees populated Pentaba from border to border that much of the heavens were visible only through leafy canopies. The ground was almost completely shaded and blanketed in layers of moss and mud where the waters only reached in the rainy season. It was, for lack of a better term, beautiful in its rustic simplicity.

Usually, the Pentaban citizens lived in some degree of hermitude. Save for the few towns and capital city, most homes were surrounded by nothing but bogs and the nearest neighbor was neither visible nor audible. The houses were unique unto themselves. Those in the deepest parts of the swamp towered nearly twenty feet in the air, resting atop reinforced stilts that allowed murky water and wildlife to pass beneath without hindrance. Others were built on raised platforms that accommodated only a few feet below where flooding was not a threat. Only the homes within the boundaries of the established towns sat firmly on the ground, and the capital was the only place one would find homes designed not for survival but for comfort.

Three days after the second Novain message came through, Pentaba was a different kingdom. Humans and A’li-uud packed the towns to breaking, and the capital was nearly impossible to maneuver. Even the isolated bog houses were no longer free of population as their residents had been ordered to take in as many refugees as they were able. There was a constant hum of sentient life no matter the time of day or location, and the teal-skinned A’li-uud native to the region were less than pleased.

The house I had been assigned was actually the home of Sevani’s grandfather, who had passed away just eight months prior. It was deep in the bowels of the swamp, surrounded by trees so tall they even towered over the sky-reaching stilts that held the one-room cabin aloft. A rickety porch wrapped around the entire structure, seemingly supported by nothing beneath and creaking forebodingly each time I stepped on it, and a steep staircase led to a dock to which a small and unsteady boat was tied. I was amazed Sevani’s grandfather had been able to live there alone until his passing as he had been well over two-hundred and certainly feeble.

“There is room in my quarters, if you would prefer to stay in the city,” Silah told me as he looked around the minimalistic cottage. He was repeatedly fanning himself. His skin, which was usually a whitish cornflower color, was marred with patches of blue as dark as the evening from the heat and humidity, and he had been in a constant state of disgruntlement since our arrival in Pentaba. “I cannot imagine anyone being comfortable here.”

“I prefer this,” I said. “I enjoy the isolation.”

“Will you enjoy the isolation when you are alone out here and dying of heatstroke?” he asked grumpily, waving a hand rapidly around his face again to stimulate air flow.

I nodded my head at his fanning. “You know, you are only making yourself warmer by doing that,” I pointed out.

He stopped and harrumphed, glaring unappreciatively at me. “We are to report to the Elder palace,” he grunted. “The speech to the civilians is scheduled in an hour, and Sevani feels it necessary to explain Pentaba’s defenses to us before that.” He scoffed. “I am certain he is only using it as an opportunity to brag.”

“Perhaps, but we need to know,” I said absently. I was pulling weapons from my pack and placing them in their holders on my belt. It was only something I did when I was preparing to go into battle, but, now that we were on lockdown, I felt a strong desire to be prepared for anything at any time. Two knives, two daggers, a sword, and six small sharp discs surrounded my waist before I was satisfied and turned around to face Silah. “I am ready.”

“The Pentabans are going to think you are here to murder their Elder,” he grumbled. When I raised a brow at him, he dropped his gaze to his boots and added, “Sorry, Chief.”

We descended the narrow stairs to the dock. A second boat was there, tied beside the first, from Silah, and we clambered into it with tilting balance. There were no oars or steering devices visible as there would have been on a boat elsewhere in the world because Pentabans had long used an upgraded style, as water travel was their most heavily-utilized medium to get around. I reached toward the stern and wrapped my hand around a thin black cord, which was slimy with algae. One swift tug made the boat jerk and grunt, and a second sent us flying through the swamp waters so fast that insects splatted across my face and the wind burned my eyes. If I had understood Sevani correctly, the boats were thrown forward by the force of the mechanisms below attached to the cord, so, rather than rowing relentlessly until the boater reached his destination, a few tugs on the cord could accomplish the same goal much more quickly.

It was apparently a technology that worked because we reached the city in a very short time. As we disembarked from the boat and trotted up the steps of the public dock to the boardwalk, I was overwhelmed with the number of people around. Humans mingled with hundreds of pale-faced A’li-uud, who mingled with more hundreds of teal-faced ones. The chatter was so loud I could barely hear myself think, and, when Silah yelled something to me, I had to actually read his lips to understand him.

“Just wait,” he called over the roar. “The capital is worse.”

I shook my head in disbelief, trying not to elbow passersby as I twisted and contorted my body through the crowd. I had yet to recognize a single face apart from Silah’s, and the sheer volume of beings made me doubt I ever would.

The boardwalk was not nearly as long as it took to reach the end of it, but the throng was so thick that it took nearly twenty whole minutes to reach the crosswalk, which led into the heart of the city. As I turned the corner, I was stopped dead in my tracks by the sight. Thousands—literally thousands—of A’li-uud buzzed in one enormous swarm, so tightly packed and numerous that the crowd swelled all the way out to where I stood. The Elder palace rose tall and proud in the very center, but, as far back as we were from it, what looked like little insects were bustling all the way up its steps. It took several blinks to convince myself they were not insects at all but A’li-uud.

The human faces in the mob were better blended here, fewer and farther between. For every human I saw, there were two Pentabans and ten Montembans. It was as if my entire kingdom was standing in this one location and a few others had come around to join.

“How are we supposed to reach the Elder palace?” I bellowed over the voices.

Silah motioned to his left. “This way!” he shouted back.

I started to follow him, but so many had begun to gather around us from behind that I knocked into someone, nearly toppling them over. As I whipped around to apologize, I caught a glimpse of umber hair in the very center of the crowd. It was moving strangely, bobbing and weaving, and I squinted for a better view. Then, my heart dropped into my stomach as I realized it was Celine, and she was being dragged through the throng by a gnarl-faced Pentaban male.