I reached out to touch his arm, and he stopped, as if I had burned him.

“Mr. Vesper,” I said, “it’s going to be all right. This will be over and done with before we know it.”

He sighed and turned to regard me. We had two minutes remaining until the new moon unfolded. The wind was beginning to intensify.

“You must be wondering why I’m so anxious,” he stated. “It has to do with the truth that I don’t deserve to be here.”

I frowned up at him, thinking now was not a good time for such dramatic statements. “Why not?”

He reached into his jacket for his pocket watch. “Because I wasn’t born with illumination. I wasn’t born with the magical flame, like my twin brother was. Everything I’ve accomplished I’ve had to learn. It took me many grueling years of lessons.”

I almost laughed at his ridiculous statement, but thought better of it, as that was something Clem would do. Anna, on the other hand, would be impressed.

“Then that only solidifies your place and accomplishment, Mr. Vesper,” I said. “You’ve earned the right to be warden here.”

His watch chirped, and I knew the time had come. He slipped the golden orb back into his pocket and looked at me, whispering, “We can talk more about this afterward.”

I wondered if he had even heard my compliment. He turned away from me, so that our backs were aligned.

We watched the street, my gaze fixed on the southern end while his scanned the north.

It was the sort of quiet that makes you fearful to breathe too loudly. The fog continued to gather, and my feet were cold in my boots as I strained to see through the mist.

Was this the element of a nightmare? I racked my mind, trying to recall if I had read any entries in Phelan’s book that were made of fog.

“Look to your right, Miss Neven,” Phelan said, and while his voice was calm, I knew the nightmare had begun.

I looked to see the row of town houses, shuttered and bolted with only stray beams of firelight slipping through the cracks. And then I saw it, a heraldic banner unrolling from the roof, covering the house’s face with a proud bolt of blue. Silver moons were stitched upon it, and diamonds winked like stars in the fabric.

“That’s the mountain duchy’s banner,” I breathed, my memory surging.

“So it is,” Phelan agreed, and we watched as more banners and tapestries unrolled from the roofs of houses around us, flapping slightly in the breeze.

The cobbles beneath me hummed, and I glanced down to watch them become large, smooth flagstones in shades of copper and gray, freshly swept. The air smelled of fresh sun and sweet red wine.