Eira
The walk from Milla's shop should have taken five minutes. Eira stretched it to seven, just savouring the way the steam from the doughnut box warmed her chin for a little longer.
She turned the corner onto the main Terrace, and the song died in her throat.
The apothecary's front door was standing wide. The wind knocked it against the outside of the shop with a rhythmic thump-thump.
"Mrs. Gable?" Eira called out. Her voice was thin.
She burst into the shop, her boots skidding on the floorboards. "Mrs. Gable!"
The store was freezing. The heat from the hearth had vanished because of the open door, leaving the scent of extinguished ash and lavender.
Mrs. Gable was standing by the back counter, her hands pressed so hard against her mouth that her knuckles were white. She looked like she had seen a ghost.
"He's gone," Mrs. Gable whispered, her eyes wide and glassy. "I only turned my back for a moment to check the infusions. I thought... I thought he was too weak to even lift his head."
Eira ran to the hearth.
The heavy wool rug was kicked aside. The blankets she had so carefully tucked around the boy's chin were tangled in a heap, one trailing toward the door like a discarded skin.
She knelt, pressing her palm to the floor where he had been lying. It was cold.
"How long?" Eira asked, her voice shaking. "How long has the door been open?"
"I don't know," Mrs. Gable wailed, finally finding her movement. She began to pace frantically, her skirts swishing against the floor. "The wind... I didn't hear him leave. He didn't make a sound. He was like a shadow, Eira."
Eira stood up, her chest heaving. She looked at the space. She thought of the boy's translucent skin, the way his pulse had skipped like a stone on water.
"He's going to die," Eira said, the reality hitting her with the force of a physical blow. "He's out there in the cold without a coat, without a lantern, and his heart is barely tethered to his chest. He won't last an hour."
"We have to call the Wardens," Mrs. Gable said, reaching for her cloak. "They have the search-lights, they can-"
"No!" Eira cried, spinning around. "If the Wardens find a lanternless boy from the docks wandering around, they won't help him. They'll 'extinguish' him. You know the law, Mrs. Gable. To them, he's already dead!"
Eira grabbed her own cloak from the hook, swinging it over her shoulders with a violent snap. She reached into her satchel, checking for her trowel and the small vial of stimulant.
"Where are you going?" Mrs. Gable asked, her voice trembling.
"To find him!" Eira's eyes were wild. "He wouldn't go up. A boy like that... he only knows one direction."
She stepped over the threshold, her boots crushing one of the discarded doughnuts. The honey was already freezing into a sticky, dark smear.
She looked toward the Great Stair, the massive stone artery led down, down, down into the fog.
"Eira, wait!" Mrs. Gable called from the doorway. "It's too dangerous. The Low-Quarter at night... you don't belong there!"
Eira looked back. "I'll be fine, Mrs. Gable! Just… wait for me." She adjusted her lemon-yellow lantern, the light casting long, frantic shadows against the cliffside.
She began to run toward the stairs, her breath coming in silver plumes, chasing a boy she didn't know into a world she had learned to fear.