Heron and I headed to the west side of the mountain, facing the great wide open plains, bordered in the distance by the Valley of Screams. We took the main road out of the city to reach the base of the mountain, then left the cobblestones and trekked down one of the beaten paths until we reached the perfect spot on the western wall.

I glanced up and noticed the plethora of wildflowers growing from the velvety green grass dressing the ridge, my nostrils flaring as I tried to catch as many scents as possible.

Heron, like me, was fully covered to protect himself from the sun. He took out an iron pick and the satchel from his backpack, and started carving a hole into the stone wall. He noticed me squinting and sniffing through my goggles and mask, and chuckled.

“You sure live up to your nickname,” he said, stuffing the satchel into the hole.

The mountain trembled briefly, and we both stilled, staring at each other for a minute.

“Yeah? And what nickname is that?” I replied, raising an eyebrow. “Say ‘Hound Dog’ and I will punch you in the ribs.”

I could see the contours of his grin beneath his black tinted mask, and his jade eyes through his dark glass goggles.

“Go on, say it,” I challenged him, my hands balled into fists, ready to help me keep my word.

“I didn’t give you that nickname,” he replied. “Don’t hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, or the nickname. I just need an excuse to punch you.”

“My, my, aren’t we feisty today!” He snickered, then took a step forward, a little too close for my comfort.

I moved back, and my foot slipped. His arm came around my waist so fast, I didn’t even get to react. I gasped, then stiffened in his hold, my hands quietly resting on his chest. I glanced over my shoulder and noticed the deep canal that had been dug beneath the ridge. It was a narrow, fifty-foot drop at least, stretching for about a hundred feet along the mountain base. It didn’t seem to serve any purpose other than to break unsuspecting necks, given the amount of grass covering it almost completely.

I then gaped at Heron, surprised by his powers of observation.

How did I not see it?

His eyes were smiling, and my mind went blank.

Yeah, that’s why…

“Don’t get yourself mangled, Avril,” he said softly. “You still have some sniffing to do, and, frankly, I find you quite entertaining. I would hate to spend the next couple of days feeding you blood through a straw while you heal from a broken spine.”

“Oh, wow, that was creepily visual,” I replied, my eyes wide and lips pressed into a thin line. Leave it to Heron to cook up worst-case scenarios worthy of horror movies. “But at least it’s nice to know you don’t want to see me lying helpless in bed.”

A muscle jumped in his jaw, his hold tightening around my waist as his gaze clouded and his lips stretched slowly beneath the thin mask.

“There’s about a million things I’d like to see you do in bed, but lying helpless isn’t one of them,” he whispered.

My skin tingled and my breath got jammed in my throat.

Snap out of it. Mountain. Flowers. Murder!

I had a hard time thinking of a good, cooling comeback, though. And Heron enjoyed my astonishment a little too much. Fortunately, noises to our left made us split up. I inhaled deeply, pleased to get my lungs back in operation.

We looked at the patch of shady pine trees bordering that side of the mountain, and noticed two figures sneaking through. They hadn’t seen us, as they had their backs to us, and were hunched forward and looking up, as if making sure no one could see them from above. Heron put his hand on my shoulder, telling me to duck, and I caught their scent.

“Imen,” I whispered.

He nodded, then darted across the rocky trail. He shot through the trees, and I heard the two Imen yelp and squeal. Heron emerged from between the trees, holding each Iman by the back of the neck. I rushed over, my hands up in a reassuring gesture.

“It’s okay, we don’t want to hurt you,” I said gently.

“Then let us go!” the elder Iman said.

They were both male and looked dirty, their hair ruffled and their clothes tattered. They smelled of burnt wood, wet grass, and wilderness, not the clean scent of Azure Heights.

“Where do you come from? Who are you?” I asked them.

The elder Iman looked in his mid-forties, with curly brown hair and hazel eyes. The young one resembled him in all features and was probably in his late teens—most likely his son. They gave Heron and me fearful glances, then frowned and stared at the ground.

“They’re not going to talk like this,” Heron groaned, rolling his eyes. He let the elder go and quickly snapped his fingers. It was enough to make them both look at him, and Heron’s glare flickered gold. “Stay here.”

He moved around and came to my side, with both Imen now under his control.

“Now you can ask them whatever you want.” He smirked.

The Imen’s expressions were blank as they stood before us, their arms limp at their sides.

“What are your names?” I went for an easy start.

“I’m Bear,” the elder Iman said. “This is my son, Sinon.”

“Where are you from?” I couldn’t smell a single fiber of Azure Heights on them, and I’d already registered all common Imen scents from the city.

“We’re free people,” Bear replied, his voice mellow. “We live beyond the gorges…”

“You crossed the Valley of Screams?” Heron asked in disbelief.

“Yes. We come here sometimes,” Bear said. “We sneak into the city. We have family still working here, so we pay them a visit when the masters aren’t around.”

“We also steal supplies when we visit,” Sinon added, making Bear groan. Despite being under Heron’s mind-bending, he seemed to still have some sense left, if he was able to react to his son revealing their operation.

“What supplies?” I asked, slightly amused.

“Leathers, grains, and spices, mostly,” Sinon replied. “There are secret routes leading into the city, so we can carry plenty and get to the plains without being spotted.”

“Secret routes?” I muttered, then looked up at Heron. “Do you think the daemons are using them to get into the city?”

“I don’t see the point, since they’re invisible,” Heron said.

“The daemons aren’t invisible unless they’re hunting,” Bear replied, leaving both Heron and I speechless.

I needed a second to wrap my head around what he’d just said.

“Wait… You know about the daemons? Did you see them? What do they look like?” I threw out the questions as they popped into my head.

Bear seemed startled. He glanced around, as if worried someone might hear him.

“Shush,” he whispered. “They could be nearby… They’re big, they’re huge, with claws and vicious red eyes and…”

His voice trailed off. He froze, staring up the mountain. Sinon, Heron, and I followed his gaze and saw two Exiled Maras watching us from above. They stood on a stone ledge, an extension of the third-level platform toward the northwest, bordered with a wrought-iron fence. They were dressed in plain dark clothes with hoods, their faces covered with smoky goggles and masks, and they had some kind of blue badge on their right arms.

Bear fell to his knees, followed by Sinon. They both held their heads, moaning and grunting.

“The pain,” Bear cried out. “Make it stop…”

“What’s happening?” I tried to touch the Imen, but they shuddered beneath my hands, in sheer agony. “What is going on?”

“They’re mind-bending them!” Heron growled. “It’s what happens when an Iman is being mind-bent by two or more Maras. The brain overloads. It’s extremely painful.”

“Oh, crap,” I gasped, remembering the blue badges. “Those are Correction Officers!”

“Make it stop!” Bear’s muffled cry came from below.

“What do we do?” I asked Heron, desperate to stop the Exiled Maras from turning Bear and Sinon’s brains to mush.

“The soul eaters will kill us,” Sinon groaned, pushing his forehead into the hard ground.

“Soul eaters? What’s a soul—” I was interrupted by Heron’s quick thinking, as he pulled one of his chest plates off and lifted it in such a way that the sunlight reflected off the metallic surface. It hit the Correction Officers in the face. They looked away, covering their eyes. They were temporarily blinded, despite the glasses. It wouldn’t do any long-term damage, but it was enough to break their hold on the Imen.

Bear and Sinon immediately sprang to their feet and vanished back inside the small patch of woods from which Heron had pulled them. We ran after them but couldn’t find them anywhere. It was as if they’d vanished into thin air. All I could see were trees and large rocks that had tumbled off the mountain, their top sides covered in moss.

“What just happened? Where’d they go?” I was frustrated at that point, because I couldn’t event track their scent anymore.

Heron cursed under his breath, then ran back out. I followed, and we both looked up. The Correction Officers were nowhere to be seen.

“Did you hear what Bear said?” I asked, staying behind Heron as we trekked back to the main road into the city.

“He said a lot of things,” he muttered.

He was angry. I could tell from his posture—his shoulders were tense and his fists closed tight.

“Soul eaters,” I reminded him. “He said ‘soul eaters’…”

“I have no idea what a soul eater is.”

“Do you think he meant the Correction Officers?” I wondered whether it was a more poetic way of referring to Kifo’s henchmen.

“What, as in a dramatic nickname?” he replied. “Like you’re called the ‘Hound Dog’?”

I poked him in the rib, prompting him to cough, then chuckle.

“I see your high spirits are back.” I smiled. I really didn’t like seeing him angry. There was still a heavy weight on his shoulders, but at least I’d made him laugh a little. “I find it amazing that Imen travel through the Valley of Shadows.”

“Yeah, that was unexpected. Do you think the Five Lords know?”

“I don’t know… I don’t think so,” I said as we reached the first level of Azure Heights. “I bet whatever secret routes Bear and Sinon are using would’ve been sealed by now, if the Exiled Mara knew.”

“Then I wouldn’t tell them, either.” Heron gave me a brief glance as we headed up the stairs leading to the second level. None of the scents in the area resembled the one I’d picked off Minah. We’d struck out on that side of the mountain, as far as tracking Minah’s killer went.

“This does leave room for a lot more questions,” I replied, catching a glimpse of geared-up Exiled Maras with blue badges in a reflection on a nearby window. I caught their scents, too. Musk and salt. “Like why are Kifo’s Correction Officers following us?”

Heron stilled, then glanced over his shoulder as we reached the infirmary, where more Correction Officers were stationed outside—ten of them, to be precise, standing tall and motionless, their hands behind their backs. Given that they were beneath the awning, they didn’t wear masks or goggles. The two who were following us passed by us and joined the others, removing their head covers in the process.

We instinctively took off our masks and goggles, now back under the terrace covers. I heard Heron grunt as he watched them for a few seconds. He then walked up to the last Correction Officer, one of our “stalkers”, bringing his face deliberately close to his in an intimidating gesture.

“Why are you following us?” Heron growled.

The Correction Officer didn’t answer. I reached Heron’s side just as he pulled his large knife out and brought it up to the CO’s neck. The others turned their heads to look at us, but did not move, their expressions firm.

“Heron, what are you—”

“Why are you following us?” Heron raised his voice, ignoring me. He glared at the Correction Officer, whose nostrils flared once—his only reaction to having a blade against his neck.

“We were ordered to watch over you,” the Exiled Mara finally replied.

Heron didn’t seem happy with his answer. He gave the other Correction Officers an inquisitive glance, then shifted his focus back on the one in front of him.

“Were you up on the third-level ledge earlier?” Heron asked.

“No, sir.” The Mara blinked once. “We watched you from the first level until you came back.”

“So who was up on the third-level ledge?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

“They were Correction Officers,” Heron retorted. “Surely you can ask a question among your ranks.”

“If Lord Kifo allows it, I will, sir,” the Mara replied, exceptionally calm given the circumstances. He then gave me a quick glance, and blinked a couple of times. “We were instructed to follow, and nothing else. But I should advise you… Keep your distance from the rogue Imen. They scamper out of the Valley of Screams and come up here to loot the lower levels. They’re filthy creatures, and they’ll stab you in the eye for a piece of bread if you don’t pay attention.”

Heron didn’t say anything, but the vein throbbing in his temple told me everything I needed to know. We had no idea who the Correction Officers who had mind-bent the Imen were, but they clearly didn’t want us talking to the “filthy creatures”.

I gently put my hand on Heron’s forearm, and pressed until he withdrew it and put his knife away. He then poked the Mara in the chest with his index finger, baring his teeth. I saw his sharp fangs for the first time, in a threatening expression, and I found myself out of breath.

“Find out who those two on the third-level ledge were,” Heron hissed. “And if Lord Kifo doesn’t want you talking to me, let me know, and I’ll sort it out with him.”

We then went into the infirmary, where Patrik and Scarlett were still looking at Minah’s body through the protection spell. Patrik nearly smiled when he saw us come in, but a frown quickly settled over the expression when he noticed Heron’s residual glare from his exchange with the Correction Officer.

We quickly brought them up to speed with what we’d done and the rogue Imen we’d come across, along with the mind-bending incident. It made Patrik scoff and cross his arms over his chest, while Scarlett sat on an empty bed.

“I didn’t think Imen could make it through those gorges alive,” Patrik replied.

“Yeah, our thoughts exactly,” I muttered.

Patrik’s expression lit up, usually the sign of a great idea coming from the Druid.

“Can you check the library for some maps of the Valley of Screams?” he asked, looking at Heron and me. “Surely someone must’ve traced at least some of the routes through the gorges. Actually, even a map of this continent would do. Any geographical references will help.”

“What are you thinking?” I wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

“Trust me.” He winked. “You’ll thank me later. Just find out if there are any maps of Neraka in that library, and get me some. I’m particularly interested in the Valley of Screams.”

I nodded. Heron put on his head cover, mask, and goggles. The staircases leading up to the library weren’t covered, and the sun was still out. We left Patrik and Scarlett with Minah in the infirmary, and headed upstairs to the city library. Two Correction Officers followed us, as per their protocol, but kept a decent distance, just in case Heron decided to flip out again.

Whatever was going on in this city, it was getting murkier each day. But Patrik had gotten me curious, and I, too, started wondering about what lay beyond those gorges. Surely the Exiled Maras had gone exploring at some point, long before their people had started disappearing.

We’d looked into records and history books, but we hadn’t thought to check their geography section. Good thing I loved a good research session.