A Shattered Dawn

Chapter 2

Today is the day that things change.

I hit the ground running and sprint across the expansive, well-tailored yard of the manor. I can see the train approaching ever closer, the tracks cutting through the ravine between the mountains. The mountain range far to my left reaches into the distance, the snow-covered peaks blending into the impending dawn. It is one of the few mountain ranges on the southern side of this continent. The graying sky promises a beautiful sunrise to come.

I do not dare halt my flying sprint, faster than any human or Celestial thanks to my abilities. Accelerated speed and agility, the ability to become unnaturally silent and emit few natural sounds—these are abilities I have thanks to my Night Angel ancestors.

I turn back to the mansion as I run, feet flying across the damp earth. One last glance at the enormous house has me speeding faster, hurtling away from the old house. Drops of moisture fly around me as I kick up dew off the grass, and the mist in the air wets my cheeks and hair as my hood flies back to expose my skin to the morning air.

I have almost reached the train, and I can hear the tracks shriek as I near. The ground upon which my feet fly slopes down to the tracks; a small ditch in the middle of the enormous field.

The train flashes by and I do not slow; rather, I run faster, parallel to the train to build momentum. A quick glance behind shows me that I do not have much time before I must jump and catch my ride to the next town. I push forward with a burst of speed, still slipping behind the pace of the train and watching the cars pass me. I jump, grabbing the vertical rail next to the door of the nearest car. I brace myself against the door, and fear stirs deep in my chest when I see the tight passage approaching. A tunnel cut into the mountain.

I pull my attention away from the impending doom and focus on the lock to the door—a metal padlock that refuses to yield as I shove it into the door, attempting to break the latch holding the lock in place. I rush to open my bag, digging out my small multi-tool pocketknife. Looping my elbow through the bar, I struggle with cold, wet fingers to open the tool. The shell of the train is covered in the same morning dew that now coats me, making it increasingly difficult to manage holding my bag and attempting to use the tool.

I finally snap open the long pin I was looking for, but the tunnel is no longer a dot on the horizon but rather a very real—and very close—threat. If I am still on the exterior of this train when we enter the tunnel, I will surely survive if I make it up to the roof, but it would be hell. Minutes, maybe even hours, inside a mountain is freezing. I have endured it before and it took me an entire night to recover and not feel as though I was freezing to death.

I quickly use the tool in combination with a small knife to pick the lock, and after a few seconds, the padlock hangs loose. I slide it off and into my bag, swinging the door open. I quickly survey the contents of the car before hurling myself inside, confirming that it houses what is on most cars in this shipment: large bags of grain. Without another moment of hesitation, I pull myself into the car and shut myself into darkness as the train hurtles into the belly of the mountain.

For me, darkness has never been something to fear. I have lived in the comfort of it my entire life. I learned to wield it as a weapon and use it to my advantage.

I was abandoned on a train when I was young. I do not remember exactly when it happened, which is why I also do not know my own age. I only know it has been around ten years since my parents died. I use the moon to record time. It must be something I was taught at a younger age, but I cannot remember.

I do not remember what my parents were like, where I used to live, or what my life was like. Maybe I never even had one before this. I do remember some things.