Veil sprawled out the best he could in his wooden chair. Legs stretched out. Bare feet propped against the cool stone wall instead of the empty chair meant for Juda. Veil flipped the medallion between his fingers. A pallor trick he spent a month in the woods mastering. It drove Juda crazy. Pressed silver. Scorpion holding a torch with its tail. Stinger and fire outlines touching. All was stamped on one side. It was a mark of being Silas’s family. Masters of Koda. Non-family had iron markers. They were stamped with the letters HD for Hile Delve on one side. The word faithful etched the other. He tilted his head back and watched the sun turn the surface to day through a gutter’s mouth in the ceiling — or beneath the alleyway demanding on perspective. It was the only spot in his underground burrow where natural light came through. A home he made himself when Juda told him he wanted to stay in Last City. Of course Juda pointed out the irony of Veil running way from his underground home and all his father stood for just to start his own.
It wasn’t the same. Veil wasn’t lying to people and keeping others against their will. He cared about the surface. He cared about a lot of things. He would never let himself forget what the sun feels like against his skin.
Another night without sleep. Another one waiting for Juda. Of course he figured out how to screw up the only thing that…
