Christine knew how to keep an interesting conversation. Maybe it was because of the total lack of embarrassment in her manners. Noa felt at ease. And that was rare. How long had they been out there? He had lost track of time. Even Liam and Bryanna, who had started the evening in spirited conversation on the porch, had already walked in and were now playing cards with Daria and Joshua. Everyone seemed distracted. Mateo and Baldric were playing a game of pool. Serena watched the game while flipping through a book.

The balcony had an external staircase, which connected to a small balcony and gave access to the second floor. If he went up with Christine that way, no one would see. The others would notice their absence, of course. The musicians Blake called out played a slow tune in the hall, and Christine, still sitting on the sofa, moved her body slowly in a subtle cadence. As Noa considered this possibility, he felt once more the fierce sting beneath his left shoulder. He scrambled for a position to ease the pain, but it didn't do much.

Maybe tonight wasn't ideal, he thought. The shadow moon glowed and intensified the heat in his scar. On top of that, if he took Christine to his room, he would have to explain that mark. No woman seemed to be able to see a scar without wanting to know the story behind it. Well, at least the women who saw his, he reckoned.

With a peculiar shape, the mark on the skin drew a perfect shadow moon. It was the symbol of the taú army, by which he had been captured more than two years ago. Even so, every month he was reminded of his short stay as a prisoner. All Rariff soldiers knew what it meant to be a taú prisoner. Stories about their tortures were told in bars and taverns by the few survivors. Most didn't last long, though. The pain of the scar could drive a man crazy.

By the time he earned his mark, Noa was a member of the cavalry, just an apprentice. He accompanied his uncle's army and set out on specific missions with generals of Ür's confidence. The memories of that day were confused. They were the target of an ambush, but they suspected that the taú army was expecting another enemy. They were a small entourage and were easily contained and captured.

He and the other Rariff officers had been taken to a precarious camp during the night. They spent the next day chained in a tent with other prisoners. As night fell, a group of tau soldiers entered the tent. One of them held a long iron stake, the tip of which formed a small crescent moon made of a reddish stone that Noa had never seen.

In addition to the northerners, two other prisoners were already in the tent. Noa watched as a burly, bearded man was dragged into the center of the tent. The man could barely walk. The taú threw him on top of a wooden stump, while the one holding the stake heated the stone in the burning fire. Noa never forgot the man's murmurs and wails. As they lifted their loose, torn robes, Noa saw the violent mark that had been left the night before.

The taús were known to be sadistic to their prisoners. They marked them with that damned stone until the pain consumed them. With the intense pain, the prisoners' hearts didn't take much time to fail. Yezekael had explained to Noa that it wasn't just sadism. It was because of the scar and its stories that the taú army was feared. And, because of this fear that it provoked, they managed to survive. They didn't have a kingdom. They weren't a people, they weren't a race, they didn't even speak the same language. It was an army made up of mercenaries, condemned men, fugitives. They sacked cities, raped women, killed men from other armies to get weapons. Stories of their cruelty kept enemies far away.

Noa had tried to remain calm all day as a prisoner. He knew that his presence there tranquilized other officers. After all, was this really the end of the Rariff heir? He thought that at any moment, Rariff troops would invade the camp and rescue him. His officers thought the same. But when he saw the stone burn the skin of the first prisoner, that hope deserted him. The big, burly man flailed and whimpered like a boy as his flesh singed beneath the stone. The laments soon gave way to roars, which filled the tent. Within minutes, the man lost consciousness. He was dead.

A deep silence followed, but it was broken by the laugh of the taú officer holding the stake. The others laughed with him. They kicked the inert body until the man had his back up. Terror gripped Noa when he saw that the mark wasn't in the same place. Beside the previous wound was a new burn, raw. That was only the man's second scar. It was his second night there, and within two days he was dead. It didn't matter anymore. There was no time to be rescued. Behind him, Noa could feel the other Rariff officers doing the same math.

At that moment, a taú officer sought out the other prisoner. His time was running out. This was the last prisoner who wasn't a Rariff. And Noa knew he wouldn't let any man be marked before him. He could be an apprentice, but if he survived, he would one day be Kral. He was responsible for these lives. Noa's thoughts were interrupted when the second prisoner was thrown onto the wooden stake. He was a thin, small man. He could easily be mistaken for a boy. His clothes were even looser and shabbier. He had not been able to identify where these men were from. The taús officers were shouting excitedly now. Noa didn't know what language they spoke, but the prisoner knew and answered loud and clear. The taús let out screams that, in Noa's ears, sounded mocking. With a kick, a taú officer turned the man and ripped the back of his robes.

The scene still haunted Noa. How was that man alive? Just below his left shoulder, Noa saw a succession of half-moons. One after another, totaling five. He had never heard of a survivor with five half-moons. Because of that, he had always thought that the marks were made one on top of the other. Without hesitating, the taú officer positioned the burning stake and closed the circle of crescents on the boy's back.

The only noise in the tent was the sound of burning skin. No moans, no sobs. Nothing. But the taú didn't want to give up and put even more pressure on the stake. The boy, who was leaning on the wooden stump, raised his head slowly and looked straight ahead, directly at Noa. His lips were pressed together tightly. His eyes were sharp and expressed a deep determination. Noa knew at that moment that the boy wasn't going to let out a peep, but it was as if he was talking to him. You can do it. It was totally irrational, but Noa felt that, yes, if that skinny boy could do it, so could he. He would survive.

After a few minutes, the stake turned cold, and the taú officer withdrew it. No one said anything as the boy rose with dignity and walked back to the back of the tent. His chain dragged on the ground as he moved slowly.

The taú officer removed the remaining skin from the stake and placed it back in the fire. His expression had turned grim after the boy's show of strength. The taús assessed the Rariffs, but before they could pick a candidate, Noa took a step forward. He could be criticized for not consulting his general, but he didn't look back. After all, he was the Rariff heir. If they survived, one day he would lead the army. Why postpone his responsibilities?

Before the taú officers even touched him, Noa knelt and leaned on the wooden stick. Strategically, he positioned himself in front of the skinny boy, who was now huddled in the back of the tent. The boy looked up straight at Noa. His expression was calm but not resigned. There was acceptance, but Noa could feel it was momentary. They had to go through that. There was nothing to do at the time. Then, when the taús left, they could plot an escape, devise a plan, wait for whatever rescue might be. But now, there was only his skin and the half-moon.

In his entire life, Noa had never felt such pain. As the stake touched his back, he thought for a second that he was going to pass out. But the boy was staring at him. He had done it. Noa couldn't let him down. He used all his strength to clench his jaw. He wouldn't scream. Not after what he had seen.

For long minutes he focused only on the boy. He forced his teeth against each other until he was afraid they would break. Over time, he realized that the stone burned less and less. It cooled off. When the stake left his back, taking a piece of singed skin, and he felt the air against the open wound, he was startled by a new kind of pain. He stifled a choked cry in his throat. It was over and it wasn't going to be at the end that he would give in.

At that moment, a taú officer ran into the tent and the others followed. His men helped him to his feet. Noa couldn't remember if they said anything, because now there were screams all over the camp. Suddenly, heavily armored men entered the tent and shouted something in a language Noa did not know. The taús were being attacked. Still stunned by the pain, Noa watched as a tall, very white man entered the tent. He wore an all-black armor with fine gold details. He was young, but long white hair ran down his shoulders. With a slash of his sword, he freed Noa. The other soldiers attended to the Rariff officers as the white-haired man carried him out of the tent.

Noa vaguely remembered everything. He felt weak, dizzy with pain. The fire consumed the taús' tents. Horses and men ran wildly, while black soldiers took the lives of those who wore no armor. The white-haired man mounted a horse and held out his hand for Noa to climb. Noa looked back and saw that his men were on other black soldiers' horses. He obeyed, and in less than ten minutes they had left the burning camp behind.

Lost in these memories, Noa had almost forgotten about Christine. It was rude to remain silent for so long in the presence of a lady. But every time the shadow moon rose in the sky, he thought: Who was that man? What had happened to the boy? Even two years later, Noa asked himself the same questions. He had never known whose army it was. Never. He had been surprised to discover that it was not an alliance made by the Rariffs to rescue him. His uncle hadn't even been notified of his capture. Noa had ordered searches by the army, but had only discovered rumors about its existence. There was no information about where he was from, who he belonged to, what they were fighting for. Why had he been rescued?

For a while, Noa had thought it might have been a coincidence. By chance, he was lucky, and this army was close by and decided to attack the taús the same day he was captured. However, the more he learned about disputes over land, armies and, above all, politics, he became convinced that there was no such thing as luck. There was no coincidence. Besides, their stance had been one of rescue. The white-haired man was in charge, that was clear. And he had rescued Noa. Not just any Rariff soldier. He had released Noa first. He had carried Noa on his horse. That man knew what he was doing, who he was carrying. Who did he serve?

Noa needed to know. And more: he needed to thank him. None of his men had been marked. None had even been injured. All were rescued. It was an impressive action. It was absurd that, two years later, he didn't know who he owed his life to.

He felt another wave of pain and thought about the medicine in his room. He finished his whiskey in one gulp.

- Miss Gwenaël, it was a pleasure to be in your company - he said.

- The pleasure was all mine, My Kaal - Christine replied in a sweet voice. She held out her arm and he gently kissed her hand. Slowly, Noa climbed the outside stairs to the second floor, alone.

***

As Noa climbed the stairs, Christine wondered what she had done to push him away. They had talked about Shailaja, made fun of the nobility, the Ceremony, and Noa seemed to be enjoying himself. They laughed together, drank a lot of wine and whiskey, and even hummed a song that reminded them of Adij Rariff. After all, she and Noa were from the same region.

But for some reason she couldn't identify, he turned serious, cold, distant. Noa was not like other men. She knew he would have the responsibilities of a Kral. Maybe that's why he was so contemplative? She wanted to know what had invaded his mind to the point of losing interest so quickly.

Christine knew it would be much safer for everyone if she managed to win Noa's bed. She would be at the heir's side during the night, which would greatly complicate any attempted attack. It wasn't an obligation, but Chris wouldn't mind spending her nights like that... Even though they'd been in Shailaja for a short time, something was bothering her. It wasn't the first time she had conquered a man to facilitate an Island mission. She had already gotten Noa's attention, and he certainly seemed to want her. He wants me, but not enough, she thought. Not yet...

She was still pondering her slow progress when Serena sat across from her.

- Don't blame yourself, we knew it would be like that - Serena said.

- I know - snorted Chris. – It's just that there's something weird this time. I know he is interested, but something's wrong, you know. It's like he's not available.

Serena just blinked and took a small sip of wine. Christine watched her friend. She knew Serena had a comment about that but didn't want to share it. Despite the years of friendship living together almost like sisters on the Island, Serena did not open up. She was the most reserved among them. Even Hannah was easier to get information from. As for Serena, it was practically impossible. But there was a reason. Serena wasn't like them.

As her parents noticed, Chris noticed. Her distance was studied. No wonder the parents managed to spread the story of madness in Hyanchinthe so well. Serena actually saw things that no one else did. She knew things no one could ever know. Even on the Island, people with this gift were rare. She was a ghaya. And that was the most important category on the Island. It was because of predictions like hers that they were in Shailaja, protecting the heir.

Everything they did was based on predictions. And although the predictions were based on painstaking studies, the starting point was the ghayas. The visions showed the future, events that haven't happened yet, but could happen. They never showed anything that had no chance of happening. Knowing the likelihood of a vision coming true was the job of the ghayas on the Island. They studied the chances of a vision becoming real and what was the path, between encounters, steps and actions, so that this vision could become a fact, one day, an event. The path was the succession of events that would lead to that glimpsed moment. By knowing the path, they were able to know exactly how to achieve that vision, which increased their chances of making it real, or avoiding it.

So, if Serena had a vision that was favorable to the Island, the ghayas would try to find the way. There would then be a mission for this path to be followed. They were in Shailaja to do otherwise. They knew what the vision was and what they were avoiding, but Chris was aware that she didn't know everything. Serena knew more.

- You think he won't be enchanted by me, don't you?

- He's already enchanted, Chris... He talked to you all night - Serena replied, but added: - However, don't blame yourself if it doesn't work completely. Even if you fail, he will be safe.

Chris knew that. The ghayas calculated the mission probabilities using all aspects and, in all cases, the success rate was high. The heir would not be killed with all of them there. Anyone who wanted to kill him would have to look for another opportunity. 

~*~

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Ps: I am a Brazilian author and a dear friend is helping me translate this book. Please feel free to point out any mistakes. Hope you like it!