XXXI
Hours later we could feel as the dawn leaks through the mirrors in the sky. The fog beast growls and whines in frustration. It couldn't find its way into the reinforced carriage and the sweet prey inside. Dawn doesn't arrive with the bright sun in this world. It leaks through the myriad mirrors that stole light from the sun others.
Thin, pale light seeps through the shattered mirror‑sky overhead, each fragment catching the sunrise at a slightly wrong angle. The reflections don't brighten the street so much as bleach it, washing the fog into a sickly, translucent grey, dissolving it away.
Inside the carriage, we feel it before we see it.
A subtle shift in the pressure of the air.
The alien lifts its head first, sensing the change like a deep‑sea creature rising toward the surface.
Outside, the fog‑beast growls. It chuffs and emits a long, frustrated rumble that vibrates the metal walls. It has been circling us for hours, slamming its massive weight against the carriage, trying to flip it, crush it, peel it open like a tin can. Each impact rattled our bones. Each scrape of claws against the underbelly made the footman flinch. But dawn is a law even monsters obey.
The beast whines a low, almost mournful sound. Frustrated it slams the carriage one last time. The impact tilts us sharply, then drops us back onto all four wheels with a metallic crash.
Then heavy, reluctant silence. The beast sniffs around the carriage, claws tapping the cobblestones. It huffs, breath steaming through the cracks. It circles once more, slower this time, as if weighing its hunger against the rising light.
It has already fed well. Hounds torn apart.
Thugs devoured. Spirits ripped free and swallowed whole.
It doesn't need what's inside the carriage.
Not now, when the sun threatens to burn away its hunting grounds.
A final growl. A final wide clawed scrape.
And then it leaves.
We feel it go, the way you feel a storm rolling off your skin. The fog shifts, thinning in its wake. The oppressive weight in the air lifts by degrees. The driver exhales shakily. The footman slumps against the wall, blade still clutched in white knuckles. The unconscious aristocrat lies in a heap, collar still faintly glowing. The alien lowers its appendage, the last ripples of its transmission fading into the quiet.
For the first time in hours, the world outside is still.
The alien's voice slips into my mind, softer now.
"Dawn has bought us time."
The footman whispers into the dark, "Time for what?"
The alien's eyes glow faintly in the cramped shadows.
"For my people to arrive."
Shattered dawn light bleeds through the mirror‑sky in thin, fractured ribbons, and the world outside the carriage finally exhales. The fog‑beast's growls fade into a sulking whine, then into the soft drag of claws retreating across stone. It leaves reluctantly belly full, appetite sated, its massive silhouette dissolving into the thinning mist.
A pressure in the air, subtle but unmistakable.
Like the world holding its breath.
The alien straightens. "They are here."
The carriage vibrates from impact, but from something passing overhead. A shadow sweeps across the mirror‑sky, blotting out the dawn. The light dims. The air thickens. The footman looks up instinctively, though there is no window to see through.
A low, resonant hum rolls through the street, deeper than thunder, smoother than wind. It's not a sound meant for human ears. It's a sound that makes the cobblestones tremble and the fog recoil.
WHUMMMMM.
A pulse of energy washes over the carriage, rattling the reinforced walls. The aristocrat's collar sparks weakly. Dust shakes loose from the ceiling. The alien's silhouette brightens, responding to the frequency like a tuning fork.
Outside, the thinned fog scatters.
Something enormous descends.
A ship appears, sleek, angular, alive with shifting light. It materializes above the street, its hull bending the air around it. Panels unfold like petals. Stabilizers flare as it hovers man height above the ground. A silver ramp extends rolling out like a metallic tongue, touching the ground with a hiss of displaced reality.
Two familiar looking alien beings descend. Their figures are shadowy with indistinct limbs, and eyes like glowing chips. Tall figures emerge behind them, six silver armored humanoids. They march, armored, masked, moving with the precision of a trained extraction unit. Their uniforms match the alien's aesthetic smooth lines, bioluminescent seams, and weapons that hum rather than clatter. Glowing blue veins of light etch swirls of designs on the surface of the armor.
They approach the carriage in formation.
One raises a device. A beam sweeps across the metal.
The locks glow and hinges soften, falling away with melted metal.
The reinforced door buckles inward as hinges snap.
The door is ripped clean off, tossed aside like cardboard.
Light floods the interior with cold, blue beams. The extraction team peers in, visors reflecting the cramped darkness and the four of us packed inside.
The lead soldier speaks in a language that vibrates more than it sounds.
The alien answers telepathically, its voice brushing my mind.
"Stand down. They are commanded by my allies on the ship. These soldiers are ours, not true beings, but spirit enhanced androids."
Two soldiers lean in, lifting the unconscious aristocrat like a sack of grain as he's pulled out. Another helps the footman and driver out, guiding them gently but firmly. A fourth offers me a hand, his metallic hand steady, and strangely warm.
Behind them, the ship hums, its interior glowing with soft, shifting light.
The alien moves last, unfolding itself from the cramped space with a grace that seems impossible after hours of confinement. Its people bow their heads slightly as it emerges.
The lead soldier turns to me.
A tilt of the helmet as he points his chin.
He gestures toward the ramp in an invitation towards the two familiar looking aliens on the ramp.
Rescue has finally arrived, but I couldn't trust them. Their mistakes had torn apart my life.
The alien thoughts once again appear in my mind.
"These two native species will be deposited near the town. They are of no research value. Their spirit vibration does not match specifications for experimentation," he gestured one limb to the madam's hired coachman and footman.
"The ship will deposit them near to your destination." I nodded. I also needed to speak to the madam and would probably need to explain what happened to the carriage. The aristocratic blonde man would accompany me as proof. He would probably need to compensate her for the destroyed carriage and the horses. It was his fault for acting like a bandit. He hadn't completely faded yet and would probably recover from the shock collar eventually. I still left it on, not trusting that he would be safe when he awoke even with his extensive injury. The collar is an effective deterrent to any rash movement.
We trooped up the ramp and onto the ship. It didn't seem as large as it was on the outside, filled with smooth metallic panels and ribs of glittering light. We spilled into a room that was a vast chamber of metal and shadow, lit only by stuttering strips of white light embedded in the walls. The air vibrated with a low mechanical thrum; engines breathed somewhere just behind the walls.
Shapes moved in the dark. Tall, thin silhouettes, their bodies flickering like smoke caught in a strobe light. They weren't solid. The two commanding aliens were shadows wearing the suggestion of darkness forming elongated limbs, tapered heads, bright silver eyes. They glided rather than walked, their movements too smooth, too synchronized and deliberate. The same species as the alien that I had bought at the auction, and same shadow aliens that had brought me to the world.