Life in the Veil District carried on, the routines and rhythms of our little community unchanged. The mark on my cheek was as common as the air we breathed, shared by all Mongrels.

I told myself it was okay now. As long as I refrained from using the abilities passed down to me, I would never need to feel its sting again.

I had nightmares about that day, sometimes, but Mother would wake me and remind me that it was all in the past. I started to remind myself of that too.

Cyrus and I found ways to distract ourselves. We frequently walked to the boundary of our district, where a small stream cut through the earth. The area was a hidden oasis, where we would spend our time imagining how different life could be. 

We made it a game: pick a spot, anywhere in the Veil, and pretend it was better.

The water in the stream was so clear that I could see the small stones beneath it. Sunlight glinted off the ripples, reflecting on our faces. 

“You ever thought about what lives in this water?” Cyrus asked, squatting at the edge, scrunching his face. He picked up a small twig, using it to stir the water gently. 

We were playing the game right now.

“Probably magical creatures waiting to jump out and grant wishes for us,” I smiled, plopping down beside him and leaning over to get a closer look. Then, my eyes met his, “Or maybe they won’t because they’re afraid of your face.”

“Hey!” he exclaimed, nudging me with a grin. “My face could charm even the scariest of magical creatures.”

My hand dipped in the water and then I grabbed a handful of dirt, smearing it on his face, “Not anymore!” I shouted, running away before he could catch me.

His laughter caught up with me and I felt myself tackled to the ground from behind. A dirty hand entered my view as I quickly closed my eyes, trying to squirm away from his grip. “Noo-” I began, but the mud muffled my mouth.

“And that’s what you get!” Cy laughed, pushing himself off of me.

I erupted into a fit of giggles that made me so weak I was forced to crawl back to the stream to wash my face. The mud had streaked up to my eyebrows. When I caught my breath, I muttered a small, serious, “gross, it got it in my mouth,” sending Cyrus into hysterics again. He fell on his back, clutching his stomach as tears fell down his face.

Footsteps crunched against the dirt behind us.

“You’re going to get caught out here, laughing like that,” a voice called out.

We both twisted around. Del Revar stood a few paces away, his mouth in a thin line and a large stick slung over his shoulder. He was a year older than Cyrus, his face sharper, with gold eyes that stood in stark contrast to his tanned complexion. 

Cy wiped his eyes, small chuckles still escaping him as he nested his head back on the ground. “Look, I found the killjoy, Noemi.”

The boy stiffened his shoulders. His eyebrows lowered as he glared. Cyrus glanced back at him, rolling his eyes when he saw his expression. “Oh, come on, Del– we are alone.”

Del took a step closer, then stopped as though he was measuring the scene. His gaze flicked briefly toward the dirt path leading back to the district, then returned to us.

“You guys aren’t careful enough.”

I sat up, water still clinging to my lashes. “You always say that.” I patted the grass beside me. “Come sit.”

Del hesitated again.

For a moment, I thought he would refuse. Then he continued, lowering himself down, keeping his feet planted in the grass. He didn’t dare to lean back like Cyrus did. The stick laid across his knees, his fingers tightly gripping to it.

“What’s got you so tense?” Cyrus asked, his voice accusing, but Del remained silent. His eyes were focused on the stream, deep in thought.

Suddenly he shifted, turning his gaze back to us, as if he was slowly breaking from some kind of a trance.

“My aunt,” he whispered. “She’s pregnant.”

My eyes went wide as my stomach sunk to the ground beneath me. Cyrus mirrored my reaction, sitting up quickly.

Del’s golden stare landed on mine. “She wanted me to invite my friends to a gathering– for when the baby is born.

“A L-Lament?” Cyrus stammered, his tone in disbelief. “Your aunt is pregnant with a Lament?”

Del nodded. 

It was common for a Lament to be born. The King frequently made sure of it. All it took was one parent whose bloodline came from angels, and the other from demons. 

“She said she doesn’t want anyone to mourn him.” His fingers curled tightly, veins popping beside his knuckles. “She wants a celebration instead.”

For a moment, none of us spoke. The stream kept moving, its current suddenly too loud.

Del’s expression twisted, his face unreadable. Then, he pushed himself to his feet, clearly unable to stay a moment longer. 

He paused, glancing back at us once more. “So you guys are invited, I guess.” 

He turned and started down the path toward the district. Just before he disappeared from view, his voice carried back to us, barely heard through the rustling of the trees.

“The baby’s name is Nyx.”

Something broke in me then. Our game of pretending it was better wouldn't work anymore.