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There was no such thing as love at first sight.

Soulmates, the red thread of fate, whatever they wanted to call it, to Aspidiske it didn’t exist. He’d seen plenty of couples break apart after the honeymoon period, filled with hatred and bitterness, had seen plenty more fall for pretty looks or handsome attitudes only to be disillusioned by reality.

Besides, who had time for love when there was always more work to be done. Being a warrior didn’t mean he could take weekends off. Running the customs house didn’t mean he was only available from nine to five. He had to always be ready to assist or react to emergencies no matter the time of night.

Love had no place nor time in his life.

The day Hikari appeared, nothing was out of the ordinary. Aspidiske dealt with the usual morning rush, the afternoon lull, when suddenly she appeared, stumbling into town, fur blackened and whiskers singed.

Aspidiske took one look at her, raised a brow, and said, “Did you get caught in a forest fire?” Never mind the fact that he would’ve seen the smoke from miles away.

“Something like that,” she replied with a soft cough, either from embarrassment or smoke inhalation. Or both.

It certainly looked like she’d been caught in a fire. That, or some kind of magical mishap. But Aspidiske had never been the nosy sort, so he shrugged, eyeing her with concern as she swayed gently on her feet and looking on the cusp of collapse, and blurted out, “Do you need a place to stay?”

“That,” she rasped with what was mostly definitely smoke inhalation, “would be great.” And promptly collapsed at his feet.

It took a while to wheedle the whole story out of her, in bits and pieces in between breakfast and late night talks, in between walks to the riverside and sightseeing in town.

“It was a mistake,” she said over dinner after she’d recovered, her skin healed and fur clear of scorch marks. She waved a hand as she talked animatedly, the light casting her face in a soft golden glow, and the moon just visible outside the window. “I meant to go farther. Instead something happened and I ended up here.”

“I don’t plan to stay for long,” she said as they walked the streets, Aspidiske pointing out areas of interest and her looking suitably intrigued at the landmarks in town. She tilted her head back to view the buildings, eyes bright and curious, the soft curve of her smile, and hair shiny in the sunlight. “Just until I figure out where to go.”

“Something went wrong with the portal,” she confessed, sitting at the river’s edge and watching the water run past. Her tails swept idly behind her, swaying to and fro, gentle and calm like the trickle of rain. “It… did something. Drained me, used too much power. All I know is— Well…”

“I should go soon,” she said as they finished up the household chores for the night, moving in tandem to an unheard dance, and getting ready to settle into bed. “You’ve been very kind to me. I really appreciate it. I just…”

Aspidiske didn’t say anything as the days turned into weeks turned into months, and Hikari made no move to pack nor to even look for a new place to stay. Aspidiske didn’t say anything as her things slowly found their way into his things, her cup beside his nightstand, her brush beside his sink.

Aspidiske didn’t say anything when she stepped gingerly into his room one night, hesitating in the doorway before padding silently to his bed. A pause, a dip of his mattress, and she curled up beside him, mumbling some complaints of the cold chilly air.

There was no such thing as love at first sight, Aspidiske thought as Hikari lay beside him, her legs tucked beneath her and her head heavy against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, breathing heavy with sleep and her chest slowly rising and falling with every inhale and exhale.

Second, third, hundredth sights could never equate to love. It was preposterous. Ludicrous.

Her ears twitched every now and then in her dreams, nose wrinkled in that cute little quirk of hers that he always teased her about. It was quiet save for the distant sounds of the town outside, his arms wrapped securely around her, and a warmth billowing in his chest that had nothing to do with the weather.

Soulmates, the red string of fate, whatever they wished to call it… maybe, just maybe, there was something to be said about it.

What made a monster?

Isolt could hear them skittering behind her walls, their claws clicking and clacking as they paced back and forth.

The city was supposed to be safe, nestled in the very center of the Kingdom of Myste. A safe haven from chaos, a paradise of new and old. It was everything anyone would ever want, and yet…

Isolt could hear them, on the nights of the new moon, cackling and cawing on the rooftops. Outside her door, she could hear the heavy scrape of their paws against the floorboards, the shrill screech of metal as their talons scraped past.

They were stains on the pristine canvas of the world, their every step oozing ichor and sludge that flooded the sewers and streets. Reflections and mirrors left smudged with streaks of black and rusted red.

Every morning it was waking to a flurry of movement. Every morning it was wondering who had been taken the night before, the news feverishly recounting every rapid footstep, every harsh breath.

Maybe if the monsters touched the wealthier districts there would be an uproar. Instead, it was just Isolt, the lone Vigilante, who had taken to hunting at night.

The first few times, she came back with nothing to show but panting breaths and a sharp pain in her side. Always a second too late, the scream cut off too early, and her left with the horrid remains.

Once she knew what she was looking for, it was better. A patch of darkness that seemed too solid to be real. A closer look that revealed the glimmer of fangs, the flash of an eye. She nipped them in the bud before they could strike another innocent, tore them from their lairs and engaged them in hers.

It was easiest to hunt on the days leading up to the full moon, when her wolf was closest to the surface. When the urge to devour was just below her skin. There were times when they thought she was the monster, and while werewolves weren’t uncommon, it was still a fright to see one stalking the streets at night, bloodied and powerful.

Despite all her efforts, even as the disappearances became less of a daily occurrence and more of a monthly occurrence, still there were monsters.

Isolt could hear them, faintly in the distance, their growls a high-pitched whine. The scrape of their claws against the ground and the ever-present drip of their goop that painted their city in dirt and grime.

There was something going on in the capital of Myste, something below the shiny exterior of pristine monuments and extravagant buildings. She could feel it in her bones, in the very center of her being. Something strange was going on.

Monsters shouldn’t be this prevalent, not under King Marcius’ reign, especially not so close to the seat of his power. Something—someone, somewhere—was up to something.

And Isolt would find out what it was.