When evening came, Jiro went down for supper in the tavern. He sat at the same table he had on the first day he arrived in Kimracka, expecting Alet to serve him, but the tallest of the maids brought him his food instead.

Alet stayed away and served the other customers.

Jiro watched her all night, and she hadn't given him a single glance as she limped from table to table, carrying trays of food and jugs of ramka.

Alet.

Could you be the soldier I'm looking for? Jiro wondered all night, piecing together all the clues.

On his first day in Kimracka, Alet had served his table. She'd offered him ramka, and he asked if she knew anyone named Zahara or Arana. Her answer seemed truthful then, and he never suspected she could be the soldier.

Alet was thin, small, and too fragile-looking, but her physique deceived him. Earlier, she carried a barrel of ramka that he couldn't lift.

Jiro was foolish for not noticing it before.

She was right in front of him all along. If she were a snake, she would've already bitten his face with venomous fangs.

He spent days figuring out how he would even begin to find the soldier when fate had already placed the girl in his path.

He needed to talk to her—to confront her. He needed to understand why she lied to him about her identity.

But It appeared that she had been lying to everyone else, telling them that her name was Alet.

So which one was she? Zahara or Arana?

The conversation Jiro overheard earlier nagged at him, too—Piriu suggested that she wear something stimulating. He couldn't think of any other meaning to it, and he struggled with the disgust that washed over his mind. How could she let that man do such a thing to her?

Too many questions bloomed in his thoughts, and he wouldn't get his answers unless he could get a chance to talk to Alet. But the night deepened, and sleep called.

Though the room stayed with merriment and life, his eyes became heavy and tired. He fluttered his lids to remain awake, shifting in his seat and straightening his back, but hours went on, and he could no longer fight the call.

Speaking to Alet would have to wait until morning.

Jiro got up from his seat and walked to the stairs. He glanced back only once, and for a moment, he imagined her watching him go, but when he blinked, she was talking to three men at one of the tables, her eyes focused only on them.

With disappointment, he climbed up to his room, and the voices in the tavern faded behind him, withering as he ascended and soon muffled as he closed the door behind him.

It was bright though no candles or gas lamps were lit. White light streamed in through the window, appealing for Jiro to bask in the glow of the beautiful full moon.

In Aradack, he stayed on top of the trees to watch the stars. No trees grew in Kimracka; it was all walls and roof. He would have to get out of the city to find any trees, but that didn't stop him from enjoying the sky.

Jiro came to the window and leaped out, creating a Lift, rising above the city. The pump of energy pushed out the sleep from his body, and he rose high enough to see the edges of the settlement where the houses moved away from each other and faded into the line of dark green shadows in the distance.

He did a full rotation in the air, taking in the view before descending on the roof of the inn, landing softly on the shingles.

Here, he heard the fullness of the city—the men singing in the tavern below, the women giggling in the brothel across the street, the carriages passing by with wooden wheels rolling over the dirt road, and the distant rhythm of the dancing waves in the ocean. It was a balance of city noise—the music of the Kimracka.

Jiro sat on the roof, waiting. A part of him hoped Alet would come out through the attic window though she'd done all means to avoid him today.

It was like hunting again, but it was one thing to track prey, it was another to convince it to give up. No creature would ever go down without a fight, and Alet was like an animal trying to escape. Jiro would have to think of a different way to approach her.

The hours passed by, and the tiredness of Jiro's eyes returned. He lay down on the shingled roof and watched the blinking stars above. Their brilliant light beamed despite the moon trying to dominate the night sky.

When the soft wind touched his cheeks, he remembered how his mother used to cup his face in her hands. "Let me get a good look at you," Nana Ricka had always said. He missed her. After many days since he'd left Aradack, he only admitted it now. He missed his mother.

Jiro's eyes glistened with tears, and he allowed them to fall, spilling from the corners of his eyes and rolling to the tips of his ears. "I miss you, mama," he whispered into the night. The wind blew, ruffling the curls of his hair, and he smiled. "You too, papa," he added.

He closed his eyes and welcomed the refreshing air to lull him into sleep, and he dreamed of home.

The sinigang smelled delicious. It played a certain scent of sour and salty over Jiro's nose, teasing and making his stomach growl.

"I'm hungry, mama," he said as he turned the corner, entering the kitchen where he found his mother in front of a pot over the burning grate.

"If you had helped me prepare the vegetables, I would have finished sooner," Nana Ricka said, stirring the soup. "Is your father home yet?"

Jiro shook his head, but someone called as soon as he did.

"I'm back!" a male voice called at the front door.

Jiro walked out to meet his father, a tall, lean man with curled locks and sunburnt brown skin.

"There you are," Jiro's father said when he saw him, his silver eyes gleaming in the brightness of the day. "Where's your mother?" He sniffed the air and gave a satisfied mmmhh, and Jiro didn't have to answer.

"What did the Kavisera want, papa?" Jiro asked. If it were any other day that the Kavisera had called his father, he would have ignored it, but today was different, and he needed to know.

His father gave him a long look and then smiled. "You're becoming more curious as you age. It's nothing for you to worry about."

But it had to be something. The day before, the Kaharaza arrived in Aradack, and it wasn't a scheduled visit to polish his reign. It wasn't a visit at all. There was a brewing war in the South, and it had to do with that.

Jiro's father diverted their attention. "What are you studying?" he asked as he looked at a leather-bound book Jiro had left on a rattan chair.

"It's a field guide," Jiro said, walking over to pick it up. He had borrowed a few hunting books from the Eskolars in the northern mountains a month ago and began studying them. Skipping the killing part, the animal kingdom and their habitat fascinated him the most.

"You want to be a hunter?" His father grinned.

At first, Jiro thought the same. He wanted to be like his father—a hunter and a Rakitt Maharlika. But as he learned, he leaned toward tracking. "Not exactly. I want to be a tracker," he said, and his father's grin fell, but a smile stayed on his lips. Trackers played a significant role during hunts, and Jiro didn't see why he couldn't be one.

His father gave an approving hmmp. "Alright," he said. "If that's what you want. Now, let's go and eat because I'm hungry."

"That's what I told mama—"

A short stabbing pain came on Jiro's side and then another. The dream blurred, and he woke, opening his eyes. A foot swung to kick him on the rib, and another pain pulsed. It wasn't strong, but it was enough to knock the sleep out of him.

"What are you doing?" Jiro sat up and looked at Alet's bare feet, glimpsing the bandage around her ankle.

"I could ask you the same thing," Alet said. "Why are you sleeping on the roof?" In one smooth motion, she sat beside him. "If the girls see you here, they'll tell Piriu you're peeping, and he'll throw you out of the inn."

"But you don't think I'm peeping," Jiro said, so sure of himself as he rubbed his eyes.

"You don't know what I think." Alet massaged her nape, giving a short and quick response.

"I was waiting for you." He hoped to see her, but he hadn't expected anything, especially after how much effort she put into avoiding him.

But now, she was here, sitting on the roof with him—an arm's length away—giving him a questioning stare. "Why?"

"I want you to tell me the truth," Jiro said with conviction. "How did you take down the riod?" The query claimed that she was already guilty.

Alet's face turned cold, her lips setting in a straight line. Her blue eye stared for a moment, but then a snort burst out from her lungs, and she sneered. "Do you really believe that? Could a small girl like me take down a beast like a riod?"

"I didn't believe it at first," Jiro said. "But it made sense. You were so silent the way you moved that day at the alley in the market. You know how to use a knife, and you're strong. You can pick up a filled cask and carry it like it was empty."

"Is that it? Because I know how to do my job, and I know how to protect myself in a city like this?" Alet's face became blank, turning cold again. Her amusement was gone in an instant.

"No," Jiro said, pointing at her bound ankle. "There's that, too. What happened to that?"

Alet thought for a moment. "I tripped," she answered. "What happened to that?" She inclined her head at the scrape on his chin, the one he'd caught when he tumbled in front of the garak den. He'd already forgotten about it.

The gesture made Jiro smile. "I tripped," he said. "You can't deny it, though."

"So what if I did? What if I took down the riod?" Alet challenged.

"It's impossible for an ordinary person to do what you did. You were a soldier, weren't you?" he said.

Just then, Alet stood up to leave. Jiro followed her, but he didn't reach out to stop her. Instead, he said two words that made her halt.

"Kapitan Garvan."

She froze with her back to him. She had a small figure, but her straight posture made her look taller. "What did you say?"

"So, which one are you?" Jiro asked. "Zahara or Arana?"

"I don't know those people. I've never heard of them before." Alet shook her head, not turning to look at him.

"But—" Jiro stepped toward her. He touched her wrist to make her face him, but he only startled her.

"Don't touch me," Alet grunted, swatting his hand, turning to him with a flared face. Jiro stepped closer, and she kicked him in the chest hard enough to push him back toward the roof's edge, where he stumbled and slipped.

Jiro saw the blink of change in her face as panic rose in her wide blue and green irises. Her hair whipped from her face as she dove for him.

The bottom of Jiro's boots scratched the roof's edge as Alet reached out. He also reached his hand on instinct, but it was too late. Only the tips of their fingers touched. He fell, and she let out a yelp, kneeling over the brink.

"You could have killed me." Jiro floated in front of her. A satisfied grin plastered over his face when she gaped.

Alet was wide-eyed. "You... you can fly."

He hovered back to the roof beside her, releasing the Lift from his legs and landing on the shingles. "Wasn't it obvious that I'm a flyer?" he asked, his grin still tugging at the corners of his lips.

Alet shook her head. "Flyer? Like an Aradacko?"

Jiro cocked his head, confused. "Yes, I'm a flyer from Aradack."

"I've heard of the Aradacko but never met one before." Alet stepped away from him.

Jiro regarded her for a long moment, then smiled. "Skies, you're kidding." He heard the doubt in his voice, but Alet gave him an earnest stare.

She shook her head.

"I don't understand," Jiro said. "If you were a soldier who served in the Sulunese War, you should have met dozens of my kind. The Aradacko flyers were here to fight. They were the Rakitt Maharlika. My father was one of them."

Alet shook her head again.

Disbelief filled Jiro's thoughts. Alet could be lying, but instead of pressing her, he opted to tease. "Where in the skies have you been hiding? Is that how you survived the Brilliance?"

"I don't remember anything about the war." Alet stepped back farther. "I don't remember anything beyond the two years of my life as a beggar and a tavern maid." There was a trembling shake in her voice that she forced down with a breath.

Jiro heard something in her tone that he'd never heard before. Something filled with both fear and sorrow and hate. "You don't have memories?" Clarity crept in. "But you know Kapitan Garvan."

"That name is all I can remember. I have glimpses and images in my mind like shattered glass that can't be put together. I remember people dying. I remember shouting. I remember the blood and the gun in my hand. But that's it. I don't even remember my own name. The last thing in my memory, before I woke up on the shore, was the light shooting up in the sky." Her expression went grim.

"You mean the Brilliance," Jiro said.

Alet nodded. "That's what people call it. I woke up a month after it. That's all I remember."

"A month? Where were you when the Brilliance happened?" Jiro asked.

"I don't know," she said, looking down. "I think I was on the island."

"I went to that island; there was nothing there. Nothing survived. How is it possible that you're still alive if you were on the island during the Brilliance?" Jiro said with disbelief.

"I don't know."

"Maybe you're mistaken. Maybe you escaped and were here on Kimracka when it happened," he said.

"I don't know."

"But you are the soldier I'm looking for? You were in Kapitan Garvan's company?"

"I don't know!" Frustration laced her voice. "I don't remember anything! Maybe I am the soldier you are looking for, or maybe I'm not! I don't know!"

"Alet?" a female voice called from the attic window. They both turned and waited for someone to come out, but no one did.

Alet rushed to the window and popped her head under the curtain. "Did I wake you?" she spoke to someone inside. "I was shouting at a man on the street below. He was pissing on the empty barrels. I'll have to wash them tomorrow so they won't stink." Then she climbed into the room without looking back at Jiro, and the capiz panes slid close behind her.

.