Mylo sat on the sill of the window curled up with his cheek pressed against the glass, watching the storm. Rain pattered on the cobblestone street outside, and the strong winds caused the street lanterns to sway in the night. The typically busy streets weren’t populated by a single person in the dreary storm. Even the residences adjacent to them were quiet; dim candlelight only lit a couple rooms. It was exactly the kind of night one would expect bad news.

It had been four days since Mylo’s father went missing. This wasn’t the first time his dad hadn’t returned home, but it was definitely the longest by a couple days. His job as a between-town courier was one of the few in the town of Caskor that required him to work outside the safety of the torch-lit walls. It gave them decent money, but it came with risks, this being one of them. While it's safe to travel during daylight hours, during unlit hours, shadowlimbs were a constant danger to anyone out there. It had been years since an incident though, and Mylo used that probability to stay hopeful for his return. 

Mylo’s mother definitely wasn’t as hopeful, and her distress continued to amplify the longer the night went on. The guard said they had some information they would deliver to them at nightfall, but it had been hours since then. Mylo thought it was probably because of complications from the storm. He watched his mother continuously walk up to the window on the opposite side of the front door and peer up and down the street before continuing her loop around the living room. He couldn’t make out her ramblings, but he knew it was likely nothing he wanted to hear. He wanted to reassure her, but he knew his words wouldn’t help.

Mylo looked over to his brother, who had fallen asleep on the couch while they waited. There was a soft snore that traveled from the back of his throat. Mylo hoped that when he woke they would be reunited with their dad. It was only a couple days until Fenn’s seventh birthday, and Mylo couldn't even imagine it without their father there with them to celebrate. It was only weeks ago they were celebrating his birthday. Mylo remembered fresh cake from the bakery, a bouquet of flowers, and gifts his father loved: books and journals. It couldn’t have been the last time.

As time ticked by, Mylo’s patience was wearing thin. He tried to remain positive that the news would be good that night. His heartbeat got faster and faster, and his anticipation was eating away at him. Eventually, after what had to be over an hour, he could hear the clip-clop of hooves on the street. Mylo perked up and glanced up the street to see a white horse lugging a short carriage with two people in white guard’s uniforms at the reins. In the back of the carriage was what appeared to be some sort of long package with a white sheet covering it. He saw his mother dash to the door and open it. She ran onto the street waving to them, not minding that she would get soaked.

The guardsmen stopped the horse, and one of them stepped off, greeting his mother. He couldn’t make out what they were saying from where he stood, but he could take a guess. He saw his mother fall to her knees, almost pleading with the guardsman. Mylo took a deep breath; he could already feel the tears forming in his eyes. He jumped off the window sill, trying to get away from the scene. 

Groggily, his brother asked, “Is everything ok?” The clatter must’ve awoken him. 

Mylo didn’t respond and instead ran into his room, his vision blurry from his tears. He closed the door behind him and crashed onto his bed, sobbing. Up until now, that had been the worst night of his life.