Harvest: Faction 1: (The Isa Fae Collection)

by Conner Kressley

  I opened my mouth again, hoping a word might stop the guards from proceeding, but none came.

  Luckily, it wasn’t a word that stopped things in their tracks.

  The faction began to darken. It was strange at first, a sensation I’d never experienced. When I looked up, I saw what I could only describe as the sun itself going out.

  Shadows lay long against the ground. Piece by piece, the sun began to disappear, as if being eaten by the darkness.

  The crowd began to panic, but all I could do was look as the sun was swallowed whole by a shadow.

  The faction was in darkness. For the first time in my lifetime, the sun did not shine.

  And then, just like that, it came back.

  As bright as ever, the sun reappeared, lighting the sky and the faction in equal part. The crowd stood, stunned and silent until someone looked over at Karr.

  His body wasn’t on fire anymore, and he wasn’t on the ground. He stood on the stage, unbound and as naked as the day he was born.

  And right there, burned into his chest for all the faction to see, were the words that would change my life once again, this time even worse than ever before.

  If you want the night back, bring me Lara.

  Chapter 14

  “The sooner you answer these questions, the sooner this will be over,” the old man told me for the third time.

  I couldn’t believe I was sitting here. The first time I’d gotten into the Sphere, it was through trickery that probably shouldn’t have worked. The second time, I was knocked out and pulled in against my will. This time, I’d been grabbed by guards at gunpoint right beside Karr and brought into a room where half the elders sat, ready to ask me questions about what had just happened.

  I had to assume that, since we had been separated, the other half of the elders were questioning Karr in a different room. Of course, I had no way of knowing that.

  This whole thing seemed surreal. I had only seen the elders a few times in my life and had never been permitted to speak to them. I was an orphan, after all—a nameless girl who knew nothing and could be nothing. They were the lawmakers and historians of the faction. Our worlds were so far apart and could never touch.

  Except now, for whatever reason, they had.

  “I already told you, I don’t know anything. I don’t know who did this, and I certainly don’t know what happened to the sun,” I said, my pulse racing and my body tense.

  “It’s called an eclipse,” the center elder said, glaring at me from under thick white eyebrows. “They were never commonplace, but they were known to happen before the sun took over the night.” He shook his aged head. “Though I’m not entirely sure I believe you didn’t know that.”

  “Well, I didn’t,” I said, with more fervor than I probably should have possessed when talking to an elder. That was the good thing about being looked down. Growing up without the elders meant growing up without reverence to them. So, where those in higher stations than me might have stammered and muttered like fools around these men, I was free to speak my mind. “And whatever it is, I’m not sure why you think I’d have enough atern to do it, seeing as how I’m literally living by the grace of my landlord at the moment.”

  The center elder stared at me. His fellow elder leaned in, whispering something into his ear. He nodded, though never blinked in his attention to me.

  “How did your friend return from inside the Box?” he asked flatly.

  “I don’t know,” I answered. “And he’s not my friend.”

  “That’s not what our records indicate,” he retorted. “Your schoolmarm gave us the impression that the two of you were quite close.” He winked at me. “Close enough for you to break the law by entering this place without permission, I’m sure.”

  They knew about that? How? And when did they have time to speak to anyone from House One? The questions seemed to pile higher with each passing moment. Still, I soldiered on.

  “That may be true, but he stopped being my friend when he murdered an innocent girl.”

  “And why did he do that?” the elder asked, writing something down on a parchment in front of him.

  “Isn’t that a better question for him?” I challenged.

  “Trust me, Lara. His questions and the methods being used to retrieve the answers aren’t nearly as pleasant as what you’re faced with now.” He cleared his throat. “Why did you block the sun?”

  “I told you,” I answered impatiently. “I didn’t block anything. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

  “But someone would,” the elder answered. “What do you know about the name Westman?”

  “Westman?” I repeated, shaking my head. “As much as I know about eclipses, or whatever it was you called them. Which is to say I don’t know anything about him.”

  “You seem to know he’s a man,” the elder said, writing something else on his parchment.

  “The word ‘man’ is in his name,” I replied. “It seemed like a pretty safe bet.”

  “Josiah,” said one of the other elders, placing his hand palm flat on the table. “The girl speaks the truth. She is ignorant of these things. Her mind says as much.”

  The center elder—Josiah apparently—turned to his peer. “Well, that may be true, but it isn’t helpful. For all we know, someone powerful enough to bring darkness may also be strong enough to trick us into thinking she speaks the truth. Now, someone has just promised to bring back the night if we deliver this girl to them, and they blocked the sun to prove they could do it. Either that’s Westman or someone affiliated with him. You know that power as well as I do.”

  “Who in the whole of the faction is Westman?” I asked, letting my tone say everything about how frustrated I was.

  “No one for you to concern yourself with right now,” Josiah said.

  “If she holds a piece in this, the girl will have to know,” the other one said. “She deserves to know.”

  Josiah sighed. “Fine.” He turned to me, his displeasure writ on his face. “Westman was an orphan, like you,” he said, his tone heavy with disgust. “He was gifted in the atern and knew much of making a lot from a little. He was never trained, though, as is the custom with orphans. Still, his powers grew somehow. What he had in ability, he had tenfold in charisma. People adored him, especially those like him—the poor, the downtrodden, the nameless.” Josiah pursed his lips. “He dreamed of being like us—an elder, a lawmaker.”

  “But you wouldn’t let him,” I said, my teeth clenched together.

  “My predecessors wouldn’t allow it. This was long ago,” he answered. “But do not blame them. The law is clear where this is concerned. Those without names cannot hold office, cannot own land, and cannot run businesses.”

  “I know,” I snapped back. “I’ve heard the laws more than I care to remember.”

  Josiah glared at me again, and I could tell he didn’t like my tone. But he didn’t mention it as he continued.

  “The rejection embittered him, and he turned his powers and his charm on the elders. Inciting entire groups of the disillusioned, he pooled not only his considerable energy but also that of his followers. He decided to punish us, to hold a ticking bomb to our heads and force us to see all peoples as equal.”

  “Imagine that,” I muttered. “What did he do?”

  “He took the night,” the other elder said. “He stole the moon, the stars, and the dark, and he stuffed them away. Without them, our entire world was thrown off track. It took much energy to steady it, and even more to keep the ends from fraying. Even now, the magic needed to keep our faction from falling apart at the seams is unsustainable.”

  “What are you saying?” I asked, my eyes narrowing.

  “This faction will fall,” the elder said. “Without the steadying nature of the night, it’s only a matter of time before we’re destroyed by that which sustains us. The magic will fall one day and the sun, the never-setting sun, will burn us alive.”

  “You’re not being serious,” I stammered.<
br />
  “That’s why we created the Box,” Josiah said. “Westman was so powerful. He couldn’t be allowed to walk free. So we banished him and his people into that thing—into that Box. But as the years went on, and it became clearer that we couldn’t sustain it, we had to come up with new methods.”

  “You sent people into the Box,” I said, piecing it together.

  “We hoped they could find the answer, bring back enough of Westman’s energy to set things right.” He dropped his head. “But none of them… none of those children… ever came back. Not until your friend.”

  “The magic is falling quickly now,” the other elder said. “We won’t last the year at the rate it’s going. But now we have you,” he said. “We have you and an obvious choice. He said he’d give us the night back. All we have to do is give you to him.”

  “Give me to him?”

  “Yes,” Josiah said. “We’re sending you into the Box.”

  Chapter 15

  Mr. Renner stared at me from across the threshold of the apartment I hadn’t paid for in far too long.

  “You don’t have to do this,” he said. “I don’t care what they’re telling you. I don’t care what they should say on the matter. You don’t have to throw your life away.”

  His complete and utter transformation still shook me a little, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. He was a father, after all. He had a daughter. Maybe I should have expected him to have some sort of paternal instinct where this was concerned.

  Still, I knew what I had to do. I knew how much was at stake. Given that knowledge, there was no other choice than the one I was making.

  “You know why that’s not true,” I said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “Besides, it seems about time you get paid for this rental space.”

  “It’s insane, and I don’t think you should trust it,” he answered. “It’s been so cold for so long. How could the elders really be afraid of us burning to death?”

  “Because of the man—Westman,” I answered, looking the old man square in the face. I probably shouldn’t have told him anything. The elders made me promise to keep the specifics of what was going on quiet. There was a reason no one knew what Westman did, and they wanted to keep it that way. Panicked witches were not productive witches.

  “I remember him,” Mr. Renner answered, shaking his head. “Not well, mind you. I was only a child when he was around, after all. But I remember my mother being afraid of him. I thought he was a good man. I thought he wanted to help people like us, people without the same atern as the others had. But my mother warned me. She said, ‘People always want something, Hershel. If they’re not upfront with it, then it’s probably because the cost is too much.’ That’s what she said.” He glanced at the floor. “They told us he died, said he got himself killed trying a really dangerous spell or something. I never put it together. I never thought he had anything to do with the end of the night. I feel like such a foolish old man.”

  “Don’t,” I said, swallowing hard. “No one thought anything about it. The elders made sure of that. Besides, it’s not like knowing the truth would have made any difference. If the elders couldn’t kill him, then no one else could have, either. Nothing would be any different than it is now.”

  “Which is why I’m not sure what they want you for,” he answered. “No offense, Lara, but you have less atern than me, maybe less atern than anyone I’ve ever met who isn’t out on the street, or, worse than that, stone-cold dead because of it. How could you be expected to go up against someone with the power to take away the night?”

  “That’s a question I don’t have the answer to,” I admitted, taking a deep breath and trying to keep my thoughts straight. “I have no idea why this fae would want me so much that he’d send Karr back just to send the message. And I still don’t know why Karr killed my best friend. The whole thing—it doesn’t make sense. But that’s why I need to go. To make sense of it.”

  “Whatever it is, it isn’t good,” Mr. Renner said, pursing his lips. “Which is why I’m asking you again to reconsider. You’re young, Lara. You’ve got an entire life to live. I know things have been hard lately, and you might not believe me when I say this, but your life is worth something. You deserve better than to be dangled like a worm on a hook.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Renner,” I said, and I really meant it. “But what I deserve doesn’t really have anything to do with it. I’m not sure why, but I’m uniquely qualified to at least try to fix this. And my life, it isn’t much when you compare it to the lives of all the people who’ll die if I don’t get this done. It’s not like I’m doing anything here. I can’t find work, and without work, eventually, I’ll end up dead by someone else’s hands or from using the last of my atern to try to protect myself. It’s not exactly the friendliest world we live in, you know.”

  Mr. Renner looked me up and down, a sad smile spreading across his aged face. “You’re a good girl. You know that? You deserved better than what you got out of life, and I know you just told me that doesn’t matter, but I’m an old man, and you’re just going to have to listen to me one last time.” He squeezed my hand again. “You be safe in there. Whatever it is, whatever that dark fae has got in store for you, you just be sure to keep your head down. You’re a survivor, and you’re stronger than anyone thinks you are. That’s part of being an orphan, I’m told… part of being alone.”

  “I might have been an orphan, but I was never alone,” I answered, smiling back at him. “I had Arbor. I had Karr.” I shrugged, feeling the jab of pain that came whenever I thought about him. “And, as much as it surprised me, I had you.”

  “Still do,” he said. “And if you don’t go through with this, you’ll still have me.”

  “Don’t start that again,” I said. “I already agreed. They already said yes to all my terms.” I looked down at his arm. “You’ll be given a stipend every week now. You can do whatever you want, go wherever you want. All the atern you’ll need. It’ll change your life.”

  I smiled, thinking of how clever I’d been to find a way to pay him back after all.

  “I don’t care about the atern,” he scoffed. “I mean, of course I do. Being able to help my family, it’s necessary. But I’d rather you not risk your life just for us to have some meaningless luxuries. I understand the elders gave you what you wanted, and part of that was in taking care of me, but it doesn’t mean you must do this. You don’t have to throw your life away.”

  “My life is mine to do with as I wish, Mr. Renner,” I said. “Besides, this is the only way to save Karr. They’d have already killed him if I hadn’t made the deal I did. Now he gets to go back into the Box with me. And I intend to get some answers. Some closure…”

  “So you get to die alongside each other?” Mr. Renner asked, shaking his head.

  “Everyone dies,” I said. “At least my death will mean something.” I leaned in and gave him a hug. “Now I want you to make me a promise,” I said, my face planted against his shoulder. “I want you to live as much as you can. Live for the both of us. Maybe, if you can, think about me every once in a while.”

  “Every day, Lara,” he said, squeezing me tightly. “Every single day.”

  The morning Karr and I were to be thrust into the Box was cold. More people than I had ever seen in one place were crammed into the center of the faction. There was a time when none of these people would even bother to look at me. They were above me. I was an orphan, not worth their time, not worth even their disgust. Now, though, they seemed to cheer as Karr and I made our way toward the Box, and not just miscellaneous and unspecified cheers. These people knew my name. The Elders must have filled them in because they chanted it with their hands raised in the air and their eyes pinned on me.

  The elders had given me a long, flowing dress. It was blue and grey like the sky and puffed out at the end like those little cakes I never had enough atern to buy from the bakery.

  Karr’s hand was in mine. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about that. I wasn�
�t sure anymore that he had been at fault with what happened to Arbor, but it was this hand—the hand pressed against my own—that had brought an end to the life of my best friend. Karr’s face, one I had fantasized about for years, was the last Arbor ever saw before plunging to her end.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t think about that right now. All I could do was keep walking toward the Box, walking toward my future, and walking toward my very likely death.

  “Once we get in there, I need you to listen to me,” Karr whispered as we came to a stop. The podium where the Box was lay before us. I had spent my entire life fearing this stupid thing, wondering what it would be like to be forced into it, and now I would find out. “We have to stick together. We should act as one. That’s the only way we’re going to survive.”

  The elders spoke the ancient words, and the Box began to glow. My body tensed as I looked at it, at the symbols lighting up and the lid lifting. Then they said our names, letting the Box know who to take, and I watched as the energy spilled out of it, golden and bright. It seemed to light up the gray, indifferent world.

  “Oh, Karr,” I said, shaking my head and bristling as the energy rushed toward us. “I don’t think I can survive this.”

  But it was too late. In the blink of an eye, the Box had taken us in.

  Chapter 16

  The pull of the Box was instant and strong. A jolt of fear kicked in as I thought about fighting off the energy that now enveloped me. After all, the Elders had refilled my atern before marching Karr and me up to this blasted thing. I was richer now than I had ever dreamed of being in my life. In my old existence, this would have been enough atern to last me years if I’d spread it out the right way. But who knew how long it would last me in the Box?

  In the end, I decided it best not to rebel against the Box or the choice I’d made to enter it. First, all the atern in the faction probably wouldn’t be enough to free me from this thing now that it had sunk its claws into me, and second, what did it matter? If I failed here, if Westman couldn’t be convinced to bring back the night and restore balance to the faction, then all would be lost for everyone—and that included me, anyway.