Sunbreak

Lupa was a small dog. Her ears were large; combined, they were about the same size as her head. Dust covered her white fur, turning it a pale gray that stood out from the mottled brown coats of the other feral dogs. Her eyesight was terrible. It was blurry, and sometimes shaky. She was young, too. Last winter was her first winter, and nearly became the only one she ever knew when her mother left the warm den she and her siblings slept in and never returned.

But Lupa was a clever dog. But she learned how to crawl into spaces that the other strays in Chutwater couldn’t fit into, to steal food from the busy kittens of the thousands of thermopolis inside the city. When that wasn’t an option, she learned how to beg food from humans who were sympathetic to her big eyes and bat-like ears. But it wasn’t enough. Not for the cold of winter, which chilled her bones and made her feel like she might fall asleep and never wake up.

The only shelter Lupa found was at the ruins of the Witch Queen’s temple. There, hundreds of dogs gathered inside around marble statues of dogs, with faded, peeling paint. The stone walls and slate ceiling kept the occupants from freezing, and humans sometimes still left offerings of food for the dogs that called it their home. But while Lupa was never expelled, the other dogs distrusted her. They stole her food before she could eat, and refused to let her join their huddles, leaving her alone to shiver in a corner.

Then Menon came.

Lupa first saw the man walking off of a ferry. He approached her, looking at her like she was an oddity. But Lupa knew she was different from the other feral dogs, so this wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But this one gave her bread, while most humans only gave her glares and harsh words. Lupa followed him to a thermopolium that he lived above, finding herself a home inside the abandoned rat warrens under the building.

Menon soon found her. Though Lupa thought he might kill her, Menon instead gave Lupa a bed by a warm stove in his office. Soon, Lupa’s fur was clean, fluffy, and white. She grew fat on stewed meat, and hard brown bread that was softened in goat milk. Menon trained her and taught her tricks like how to jump through tunneling shadows, and digging through the papery folds between walls, which Lupa excelled at.

She was a natural, Menon told her. Lupa was proud; she always knew that she was talented at digging and tunneling.

Soon, Lupa received a collar with a large bronze tag that was polished to a mirror-like shine. Magical charakteres decorated the canvas it was attached to, giving the band strength and stability.

“Fifty silver pieces, I think would be a fair price,” said Menon, shuffling papers at his desk. Lupa’s ears perked up when the alpha he was speaking to gave an angry reply.

“Fifty?” The alpha scoffed, clearly insulted. He adjusted a brightly colored tunic that smelled like lead and paint. “You must mean to rob me. A commission of that nature would require at least a hundred.”

“A hundred? Marcus, surely for family, you could make an exception,”

“Family? What on Gaia’s green earth do you mean? I’ve never seen you in my life,”

“Well of course we’re family,” said Menon, softly. Lupa whined, feeling unsettled as static electricity filled the air. Though Lupa loved Menon with all her heart, sometimes the magic he used was frightening.

She hid in her bed, diving under her blanket. Menon touched a hideous amulet he wore, made of bone beads and a chameleon tail. The one red eye that remained to him glowed as mana pulsed within it, and Marcus’ heartbeat soon felt overly relaxed, like he was sleeping.

“I…” Marcus trailed off, then leaned into his chair, saying, “No, I must be mistaken. Forgive me- it’s been too long. Menon, where have you been?”

“Please, do not blame yourself. A consequence of my condition, I’m afraid,” said Menon, gesturing to the burns on his face, illuminated in the lamplight of his office. “The skin that isn’t burnt is sensitive enough. Add in my disfigurement… I’m afraid I don’t leave the house as often as I should.”

“Of course…”

“I hear your son has presented as an alpha. You have my congratulations,” said Menon, turning toward Lupa’s bed and gesturing. Happily, Lupa barked and ran over, eagerly letting Menon pet her.

“Yes- Irini and I are quite proud. We are having a party in a few days. You will be there, of course? Why, you’re his uncle! I would be insulted if you weren’t,”

“As you should be,” Menon smiled, smelling excited, like Lupa felt when she caught a gecko to eat. “I wouldn’t dream of missing it. You have a slave- she plays the flute, yes? I’ve heard she’s excellent, but I don’t believe I’ve ever been privileged enough to hear her play,”

The rhythm of Menon’s heartbeat felt off when he said this. Lupa leapt into his lap, licking his hand nervously. Liar.

“Yes, she’s become rather well known for it,” said Marcus, the corners of his mouth becoming tight as he spoke. The scent of envy radiated from him, and his pulse quickened once again. He picked up a glass pitcher from the desk to help himself to the wine, “What… What exactly do you do here, again?”

“Hm? Taxes and such. It is a busy establishment. I talk to people, such as you, and do paperwork,” said Menon, cheerfully. He began writing a receipt on a wax tablet. “Now, as for payment. Perhaps we could compromise- seventy-five silver pieces? I can bring half to your house tonight as a security deposit, and the other half upon completion of the statuette.”

“Hmm…” Marcus took a large gulp of the wine, “You’ve got a deal. I should have your repairs completed by Fabien’s party,”

“Excellent,”

Dishes clicked and clattered on the desk when a serving girl brought in a platter of food, and Lupa lost track of their conversation after being deposited back onto the floor. She smelled sharp cheese and olive relish, along with steaming warm bread, the crust of which Menon occasionally handed her.

…

Several days passed. Menon left the thermopolium, carrying a heavy dish that smelled of savory meat. Lupa followed him,

“No more,” said Menon, sternly and slowly. “The rest is for the party. But do follow- the children there will have scraps for you, I’m sure.”

Soon, Menon arrived at the party. The street was filled with screaming children who ran in all directions, chasing each other in the torchlight. Lupa barked, joining them in the game of tag with boundless enthusiasm. She jumped and twirled, finally collapsing in the laps of two children after they were called by their mothers to eat.

“Fabien, what are you doing, bringing a stray mutt into the house?” said a woman, scolding one of the children.

“But Mommy, she’s not a stray! Uncle Menon brought her! She’s friendly- look!” Fabien held a vegetable out to Lupa, who ate it without any prompting.

“Who?” said Irini, confused. After a moment of thought she frowned, giving Fabien a harsh look. Then she pointed to the vegetables on his plate, “Eat that asparagus, young man,”

“But I don’t like-,”

“It is healthy and nourishing food; I won’t have you feeding it to that mutt. Especially not that one. It’s albino. Unlucky,” said Irini, shooing Lupa out of the room.

“Aww… Please can we keep her if I eat all my asparagus? I’ve always wanted a dog!”

“No, now eat your dinner,”

Fabien pouted, then pushed his plate away, which only served to further irritate Irini. She shooed Lupa out of the room, pushing her into the hallway. Lupa sat for a moment, hoping Fabien would follow. But when he did not, Lupa began to explore.

“Lupa, come,” said Menon, whispering through the shadow, as Lupa almost introduced herself to an omega wandering through the quieter areas of the house. Though disappointed, Lupa didn’t want to let Menon down, and ‘Lupa, come,’ was one of her favorite tricks. She hunted for a corner, then jumped, aiming for the spot where the light from a lamp met shadow. The world around her faded, then she arrived next to Menon. Proudly, Lupa wagged her tail and sat so that she would be rewarded with praise and a piece of meat.

“A dog? Menon… Oh, she looks like Abbo…”

A woman with a slave’s tattoo on her arm stood in the hallway, holding a platter of dirtied wooden dishes, cornered by Menon’s arm.

“Give me the flute. Senator Alard doesn’t want you. He wants the flute. If you don’t have it, he’ll leave.”

The woman hung her head, balancing the platter with one hand while she pulled a silver flute from her pocket with the other. “That’s not something I can do, brother. I am a slave, and I am bound by my master’s orders. If you try to take this, I will be forced to fight you,”

“Abrexta, please…”

“Sentia. It’s Sentia. The other- It’s too painful. Please, just stop calling me that other name!” Sentia violently pushed Menon away, grief and anger consuming her features as the dishes fell to the floor. Lupa barked at her, before sniffing Menon to ensure he wasn’t injured. Sobbing, Sentia bent down to pick up the dishes. “You changed your name, too, brother. You were Segomaros when we last saw each other.”

“That was my choice. Was yours?” Menon bent down, moving the fallen plates and bowls onto the platter Sentia was carrying.

“Menon, we don’t have a lot of time. Someone could see-,” Sentia set the flute carefully on the floor, crying. Lupa whined, sitting next to her when Menon reached over to hug Sentia.

“Lothar is causing a scene to keep people busy while we talk. We have time,” said Menon, pulling away. He looked at Sentia with concern, his one remaining eye glowing like a ruby in the lamplight. “I won’t have you living as a slave-,”

“Marcus isn’t interested in selling. Trust me- he’s been given offers.”

“I’ll find something,” said Menon, ominously. “Perhaps flowers might change his mind. I’m rather fond of foxglove. It’s a rather persuasive plant,”

“If he dies…” Sentia shook her head, “Irini and Darius are omegas. I’ll likely belong to Fabien,”

“Fabien is a child. He can easily be convinced to free you,”

“I don’t want Fabien to lose his father-,”

“That man is keeping you as a slave, Abrexta,”

“Fabien is seven,” said Sentia, pleadingly, “It would destroy him,”

“Do you hear yourself?” said Menon, with disbelief. He shook his head, then gave a short whistle to Lupa, pointing at the flute. Instantly, Lupa understood the command. She leapt into the air, landing right in front of the flute. After picking it up with her teeth, Lupa heard a whisper through the shadows.

“Menon, Fabien is mine,”

“The alleyway, Lupa. Outside the home. Don’t be seen,”

A string of lightning twisted through the air behind Lupa. Menon blocked it, throwing Sentia against the wall, causing her to cry out. Lupa dropped the flute, barking. She felt her hackles rise as a jolt of fear ripped through her. It was supposed to be a game. It was always a game. Menon gave her an order, and Lupa got a reward when she did as she was told.

But now Menon was grimacing in pain as he pulled an electrified rope off his arm. He was hurt. Lupa could smell the burnt hair and flesh of his arm. She barked again, trying to alert anyone who could help.

“Lupa, be quiet,” said Menon, pointing to the flute with a shaking hand. His breath was short, and pulse erratic. But he made the same whistle as earlier, so Lupa obediently, and with great uncertainty, picked up the flute up into her mouth. “Good girl. Now go home.”

Home… Home, with her bed by the warm stove, and endless bowls of meat and bread and goat milk. Lupa wagged her tail, worried that Menon wouldn’t come back, just as her mother never came back to the den where Lupa was born. Sentia stood up weakly, grabbing the rope that she threw at Menon. Her long brown hair rose into the air, standing on end. Lightning flashed once again. Lupa jumped, then fell into the shadows dancing on the wall.

…

It was late enough that the coals in Menon’s stove were all but gone, but the serving girl had not yet woken to replace them. The sun was still hidden, but both of the moons set hours ago. Lupa could hear birds only just starting to wake outside, twittering their morning greetings, and smell the fresh dew of morning. She stayed put in her bed, guarding the flute closely, and keeping her ears and nose trained for any sign of Menon. Whining, Lupa curled up, then sighed. It would be okay. She knew this to be true. Menon always came home.

Sure enough, soon she heard familiar footsteps shuffling slowly up the stairs, along with the voice of a boy who wasn’t so familiar.

“Tell me again why I woke up hugging someone who smelled like fish sauce? Does he work at an algae sauce factory? Because I’m telling you, he smelled like he took a bath in fucking fish sauce,”

“I don’t know. Maybe you could tell me the story later,”

“Sure, I’d love to. But I don’t remember,”

A figure collapsed through the door, falling onto the floor in front of the stove. It was Menon. Lupa cried out a happy bark, excitedly jumping up on his chest. There was a pungent ointment on his arm, and she could smell inflamed muscles throughout his body.

But he was home, and he was alive.

“Yes, I’m back,” said Menon, with heavy sadness in his voice. He pulled the flute from Lupa’s bed, then grasped her collar firmly, removing it so that he could hold it in his hand. The mirror-like bronze plate hummed, taking on a golden shimmer that rippled like water. Menon let the flute fall through it.

“There. The cursed thing is in Rensworth now,” Menon murmured, then looked to another figure that stood in the doorframe. He was a boy who wore a saffron-colored cloak, and had a mane of dark, frizzy hair. “I’ll leave tonight. You would be wise to do the same.”

“And your sister? You’re just going to leave her here?”

“Lothar, I always forget how young you are.” Menon laughed, bitter and fowl. “She won’t let me kill her master, and her master refuses to sell her. I’m not certain what more you wish me to do,”

“Steal her?”

“If I could have done that tonight without killing her, I would have already done so,” said Menon, spitting blood and a tooth into a pot on the floor. “Abrexta doesn’t need a tattoo binding her to Marcus; if it was removed tonight, she wouldn’t leave. Not while Fabien is still there. Love is a prison.” Menon spat out the words like bile, “Don’t forget it. As soon as Alard breeds your sister-,”

Lothar snarled, grabbing Menon by the shirt and lifting him from the floor. Lupa attacked, grabbing his pant leg and doing her best to bite his ankles. Though he was too big to do much damage, she could at least knock him off balance. Lothar let Menon go, pushing Lupa away.

“Call off your rat, Menon!”

“Lupa, down,” said Menon, groaning in pain. He grimaced, then mumbled what sounded like an apology. Why is he apologizing? Lothar should say he’s sorry, thought Lupa, stopping her attack, but continuing to bark at Lothar. It wasn’t until he gave her several small pieces of jerky that she stopped the assault, satisfied that she had sufficiently scared the boy into compliance.

Once the jerky was gone, Lupa began licking Menon’s face furiously, keeping a watchful eye on Lothar. But Menon did not want her assistance and pushed her away, “Down, Lupa. Get down.”

Lothar scowled, “Look, if you talk about my sister like that again-,”

“Is it untrue? He bought her like an animal. He claimed her like an animal.” Menon stood up with shaky legs, moving slowly towards a safe hidden in the corner of the room. He covered his hand in blood from one of the wounds on his body, then placed it on the lock. It opened with a sharp click, swinging open to reveal bags of gold, and stacks of wax tablets. Behind everything was a small, intricately carved oak jewelry box.

“I’ll be back. I’ll be back and find a way to bring her home,” said Menon, breathing harshly. “But first I need to throw that thing into the deepest well in Cape Fever that I can find.”

“Once it’s destroyed, you’ll kill Lukas Alard, yes? You’ll help me get my sister back,”

“It’s not that simple, as I’ve reminded you,”

“How is it not that simple?” said Lothar, growling. “I help you destroy a stupid flute and get back your sister, and you help me kill my brother-in-law and get back my sister. That was the plan. That was our deal.”

“Killing Lukas Alard won’t get you back your sister. Lukas Alard has brothers. Once he is dead-,”

“Ava goes back home to me, and the rest of our family. That’s how it works,”

“In the Carnivorous Isles, yes,”

“What, so she just stays in Coppergift if Alard dies?”

“Most likely, yes,” said Menon, packing the contents of the safe into a small suitcase. “According to their customs, she’ll go into the custody of the oldest of Alard’s brothers,”

“Then just kill every last one of them!” Lothar let out an angry growl, then gave the desk a rude kick. When Lupa let off a resounding spree of barking, raising her hackles once again, Lothar walked out of the room and slammed the door.

“Where are you going? And if you want an entire family dead, you’ll have to pay me a great deal more,” said Menon, following Lothar out the door and downstairs into the empty thermopolium. Lupa raced between his legs, anxious to not allow Menon to be alone with the boy.

“Back to the party! Emmory is still there. I don’t want him to be alone with Alard,” said Lothar, stomping down the stairs. “I’ll take my ship to Rensworth in the morning.”

Lothar paused, then made a shockingly giddy cackle, considering the anger that he had displayed just moments earlier. “Oh! The omega! I bet I could get his father to trade Sentia to me in exchange for taking the omega as a mate. I mean, I need a mate anyways. Then, once I have Sentia- Abrexta, I mean- I just give her to you, and you kill Lukas Alard's entire family. Then Ava gets to come back home to Berger’s Landing. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy,”

“What?”

“It’s something my mom used to say. She was… odd. Don’t worry about it,”

“Not-,” Menon smacked Lothar’s arm, eliciting a yelp from the boy, “You are too thirsty for blood, boy. Killing one man is an easy feat. Poison can conceal a murder, and the courts can settle who your sister is given to from there. An entire family? People will want answers. Wars have been fought for less. Are you willing to sacrifice armies of men just to bring your sister home?”

“Yes,” said Lothar, without hesitation.

“And the families torn apart? You’d curse them with the same pain you feel this very moment?”

“Hypocrite,” sneered Lothar, bitterly. But Lupa could smell a swirling mess of emotions splitting the boy’s insides. “You? You were once a prince of Coppergift. Now, you’re an assassin. You literally kill people for a living.” Lothar seethed, pacing back and forth, “Ava deserves to come home. I don’t care what I have to do. I’ll stop at nothing until she’s safe.”

“And the omega you’re suggesting to trade as a mate? Do they not get a say? Just like Ava?”

Lothar had no response to this. Menon picked Lupa up, then began walking back upstairs, leaning heavily on the wall as he limped up the steps. “Right now the flute is our priority. Alard knows I have a base in Rensworth; right now he’ll have discovered that Abrexta no longer has it. If he gets his hands on it…”

“I don’t understand- it’s just a flute,”

“It’s Spiritbound,” said Menon, the word sending a shiver down Lupa’s spine. She whined, licking Menon’s hand incessantly.

“Spiritbound? But that- there’s a reason why Cape Fever is haunted as fucking shit,” said Lothar, fearfully. “Yeah, it’s effective and powerful. But it’s dangerous and nonsensical! Spiritbinding ties a spirit to an object in a way that they can’t just leave. Not even if the caster dies. They’re bound to the object until it’s so decayed that the charakteres that bind them have decayed-,”

“The flute was made before we understood the effects,” said Menon, with a heavy sigh. “Should they decide to transpose their magic into the flute, awakening the spirit that powers its magic, the player can manipulate those who hear the flute’s song.

“Mind control…” Lothar paced back and forth, weaving between the tables of the thermopolium’s front room. “So that’s why Alard wants the flute.”

“He could bewitch the entire senate floor,” said Menon, his aura darkening. Lothar became quite still, freezing in place as his face paled. “That was Abrexta’s original mission. When Fairghe Aura expanded and took Coppergift and its surrounding territories, she was sent to throw the instrument into the waters of Cape Fever,”

“Why not just melt it down?”

“The iron used to make the steel the flute was made from was taken from a dragon’s gullet. She could have thrown it into the heart of Mt Bantine, and the only thing it would have done is haunt the volcano.”

Lothar rolled his eyes, obviously skeptical of this claim. “Okay… So adding to the already polluted mess in Cape Fever is better? Something as powerful as a flute made from dragonsteel won’t just make some weird, consistently unlucky water. It’ll make a fucking sea monster. Any magical object can be destroyed. You know that. There are dragons. They’re rare, but they still exist. Go find one and have them eat it, then melt it down, thus destroying the charakteres, freeing the spirit, and not further polluting the already radioactive land and sea that is Cape Fever. They, by which I mean the dragons, eat fucking rocks. I’m sure it won’t take much convincing,”

Menon smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “Abrexta’s mission was to throw it into the water of Cape Fever. Anything more than that… I simply wasn’t privileged to hear. Besides- Abrexta has spent nearly two decades as a slave. I’m certain if it was functional at all, she would have used it.”

A long period of silence passed between Lothar and Menon. Lupa whined again, sensing anxiety and indignant anger inside Lothar. Is he going to try to hurt Menon again? But before she could bark once again, alerting Menon to the danger, it vanished. Lothar sighed heavily, becoming placid and relaxed.

“Well, fuck,” said Lothar, kicking the floor, then dragged his fingers through his hair. He began putting on his shoes, his hand shaking slightly. Once finished, Lothar stood by the door, fidgeting with a metal tag he wore around his neck. “You’re right. They probably already did the literal dirty work twenty years ago. You were a prince, right? I’m sure the mages wouldn’t have been that irresponsible. I’ve heard stories about the mages of the royal court of Old Coppergift; they were the best of the best.”

“I worked with them personally,” said Menon, relaxing as well. “Their work was always exceptional,”

“I’ll take my leave then,” said Lothar, turning to walk out the door, into the dark street.

“Before you go- humor me one thing, won’t you?”

“What?”

“You said you need a mate,” said Menon, curiously, “Why?”

“I…” A flurry of emotions ran through Lothar. Lupa smelled fear, doubt, and a great deal of distrust. Lothar’s hand twisted the knob of the already opened door, tilting his hand as if listening to the small mix of pedestrians walking down the early morning street. He smiled, though it had far too many teeth for Lupa’s comfort.

“Well, it’s the entire reason I came to Chutwater, isn’t it?” said Lothar, in a calm but eerie manner. “I met a beautiful omega in Berger’s Landing and fell in love, but before I could ask them to be my mate, they had already left for their home in Chutwater. I couldn’t possibly go home without them. Then I would be a failure in Father’s eyes. And Emmory's as i didn't count on him sneaking on board the ship... Besides, what sort of omega would turn down a proposal from me, Lothar Berger, of Berger’s Landing?”

“As I heard it, it used to be Fort Leonys. Named for the lion-headed sharks that stalk it’s waters,”

“And now it’s Berger’s Landing,” said Lothar, with a cruel sneer. “Great Grandfather renamed it in our family's honor, after his army conquered the Carnivorous Isles. And once they were done there, Father took Fairghe Aura’s army to Coppergift and freed it in the name of democracy,”

Without waiting for Menon to reply, Lothar twirled around, slamming the door closed as he retreated down the street.

Lupa’s ears twitched when Menon clicked his tongue. Gently, Menon petted him, then said, “Follow. But don’t let him see you. He’s hiding something.”

With an excited bark, Lupa jumped down. Fun! ‘Follow’ was Lupa’s favorite game. She sniffed where Lothar had stood, and where he twisted the door frame. A single strand of hair, from where he raked the frizzy black locks, and dirt where he kicked the frame. Lupa wrinkled her nose; horse dung and pine sap. The hair smelled like fancy soap.

With a bounding leap, Lupa dove into the corner of the room. She let her sink into the shadow, lurking into the thin layers of the world. They bent, twisting and folding like paper. Lupa navigated, expertly; she was an expert at fitting into the tiny corners of the world.