The darkness is still grumbling to itself as it rises a few inches off the ground, exposing small, black, dainty-looking feet that shuffle the wall of darkness off the road. Zaniel continues down the path. That’s one, he thinks to himself.

Zaniel walks and walks. The dirt path turns to cobblestone. Soon he hears the sound of tiny footsteps of wood on stone growing louder and closer. Zaniel sneaks a glance out of the corner of his eye and immediately turns away, pretending not to have seen. A boy and a girl, no older than two years in appearance, run up to him from behind and plant themselves in his path. Their hair and kimonos are completely soaked. Zaniel suppresses a sigh, knowing he can go no further.

“Whoa, buddy, you’re a long way from home.” The boy scowls up at him. “You lost?”

“No. Look at him, brother.” The girl wipes a sticky tendril of hair from her cheek. “His eyes. See?”

Zaniel gives her a stern look, trying to appear tough. He cannot show fear, not in this place, lest his bracelet turn on again. “What about them?”

“You hide them. You hide their true colour. They’re grey here. Like your grandfather’s. But not there.” She grins. “In the real world, you disguise them. And there, see his bracelets? You must be that boy who works for that mean old pig. You must be! You must be!”

“Oh,” the boy nods. “Sorry, kid. Didn’t recognize you. What’cha doing here by yourself? Akki find someone new?”

Zaniel looks away again, tucking his hands deep into his pockets to obscure his wrists. “I’m taking a break.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what this place is here for, I guess,” the boy shrugs. “Okay, if you’re one of Akki’s gang, we won’t hassle you. You can have something from us on the house.”

“I’m not his gang, I just …” He shakes his head. “It’s a long story.”

“We’re immortal, kid. We got plenty of time.”

“No, thanks, just, uh … I … I’m not really in a talking mood tonight; I just want to get things over with.”

“You want some flowers, then!” The girl kneels down. The boy removes a small sack from inside his sleeve, unties it, and takes out a handful of dirt. He gives it to her; she shapes it into a small hill and presses it into the stones. “There. It’ll be a couple of minutes.” She cups her hands over the mound. Droplets of water fall from her fingertips. It takes a few seconds to create a good steady shower.

“Good choice,” the boy tells Zaniel. “Girls like flowers. They’re so full of symbolism and deep meaning, they’re bound to catch someone’s eye. Make them red, sis. That should really get the message across, save him some time.”