He followed the smell to an open-air restaurant nestled in the middle of a rose-fenced garden. Beneath colorful parasols, and among rows of flowers, couples in glowing suits and gowns sat, eating, drinking, and flirting. To the side, waiters in white uniforms flitted in and out of an opulent lodge, flowing like the smoke pouring from its chimney. Embedded at the buildings top was a set of red pyrpphires shaped like a flame, clouded under a heat haze. The symbol of the Alektom barony.

  Slowly, Skye sneaked through the trees and flowers until he found a spot beneath the open kitchen window. He crouched low in a bush.

  Inside, a host of chefs chopped vegetables, sliced meats, sprinkled herbs, baked pastries, and stirred creamy soups. Steam and shouts filled the air as Skye stared with awe at the organized mayhem. Every so often, a waiter rushed out, pushing floating carts full of drink and food.

  Skye salivated at the idea of ravishing the delicious-looking dishes, but he had nothing to pay with, and the idea of stealing was out of the question despite his grumbling stomach.

  A waiter approached, forcing him to duck into hiding. Next to the window, the server parked a floating tray piled with half-eaten dishes. A moment later, another worker arrived to dump the leftovers into a nearby trash bin, then walked away.

  When a second tray arrived, just as full of waste, the voice inside Skye’s head warning against stealing went silent, and his stomach growled louder.

  Isn’t it silly to let all this food go to waste?

  Gathering his courage, he made sure no one was looking, then reached to take the nearest plate: slices of roasted beef, glistening with a rich, dark sauce.

  He drooled as he retrieved it. In his haste, he didn’t notice the half-full cup of orange juice sitting at the edge of the table. Stupidly, he knocked it over, sending it rolling toward the ground. He ducked as it crashed, ringing his bell a second later.

  He turned to run away. Even if the bell erased him from people’s minds, the broken cup and missing plate would be noticed. Maybe it was better to return the plate before he left. Maybe, eating food intended for trash was also considered theft.

  He stood to put back the dish, then paused when he saw it was already there. Not a similar dish, but the same one in his hands, with the exact half-chewed corner of meat, and random splotches of sauce. Even the cup of juice was back in place, the tablecloth dry, the ground clean of broken glass.

  He crouched, scratching the side of his head.

  Was this the doing of his bell? It had achieved something similar back in the cave when it removed his footprints. But fixing, cleaning, and refilling kitchenware to the finest detail had to be too impossible a task.

  Right?

  Something felt off about the food in his hands. Not wanting to put this forgery into him, he rose and leaned forward to return it. Half-way through the window, his eyes met a waiter’s—a boy near his age who was throwing leftover food.

  They both yelped, jumping in shock. Skye slipped, panicking, and reached to steady himself by the tray. It floated away under his weight, and he ended up tugging the tablecloth, pulling it out as he fell backwards.

  A fountain of food ruptured, racing to the floor. Glassware shattered. Scraps scattered. Liquids spilled. Bowls, and pots smashed to the floor in a spray of color and noise.

  Horrified, Skye abandoned the tablecloth in his hand and retreated away from the window, ringing his bell several times over.

  Shouts erupted from within the kitchen. Skye knew that whatever the powers of his bell were, it’d never be able to cover such a blunder. Those cooks would soon notice him and call for wardens. He’d better get away.

  “I’m so sorry!” someone inside said in a rush. “I didn’t mean to, I just slipped. I…”

  Skye stopped. Why’s the waiter apologizing? Even if the boy had forgotten him, he shouldn’t take the blame.

  Hiding among the bushes, Skye peeked in once more. The boy kneeled ashamed among a massacre of food and glassware, collecting shards of glass atop the tablecloth near his feet. Skye frowned. He’d pulled the white cloth halfway out the window; it shouldn’t be anywhere near the waiter. Even more, the pattern of fallen dishes pointed inside as well.

  The bell hadn’t only made the waiter forget him, neither did it simply rearrange the fallen tableware. It had rewritten reality, manipulating the boy’s memories to match this new series of events.

  Astonished, Skye watched the boy get reprimanded by a lady chef in front of the whole staff. The boy received a final warning and suffered a pay deduction, making Skye feel terrible. For a moment, he considered stepping forward to own up to his fault, but he knew no one would believe him, and he’d end up running away from the wardens anyway. He turned to leave.

  “New girl!” the lady chef called. “Clean this mess!”

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  “On it!” a soft voice replied.

  Skye froze.

  That voice! It sent ice down his spine. He’d last heard it yesterday morning at the Gateway. But that felt like a lifetime ago. He turned to see her near the window, sweeping the mess he’d caused.

  Rierana wore a long white apron over her blue dress, her hair tied with a neat, blue ribbon, exactly like the one wrapped around his wrist. She hummed as she worked.

  What is she doing here?

  He felt like a fool. She’d told him she worked up here, but it hadn’t occurred to him to search her out. What’s worse, he hadn’t congratulated her properly when he had the chance. Getting a position at Solarite wasn’t easy, doubly so at the Alektom’s famous restaurant.

  Her eyes flicked up, noticing him. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, frowning.

  Blood drained from his face. He stood frozen, not knowing whether to run away, or talk to her.

  Rierana glanced around, then lowered her voice. “Stay there. I’ll be right back.” She headed back inside, carrying the filled dustpan.

  Skye’s mind raced with questions. Everyone had forgotten him, including her parents. Could it be that since she was closest to him, the bell couldn’t erase her memory?

  Did she recognize him?

  She came around the lodge a moment later, hands behind her back. Under the shadow of a tree, she motioned him to approach.

  “Your brain must be made of coals to try to steal food up here dressed like that!” she scolded. “Having wardens here is reassuring, but they treat monsters and thieves alike. If they catch you breaking the law, they’d flung you over the walls to join your ‘kin’.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to steal,” he said. “I was just watching.”

  Her eyebrows knit; her lips curled downwards. “So, you’re not hungry?” She sighed, showing she’d been hiding a small wooden bowl full of steaming soup behind her back. “I went through the trouble of sneaking this out for you.”

  Skye recognized the spicy smell of mushroom and herbs.

  She presented the bowl to him. “I made this. Eat and tell me your honest opinion.”

  Sheepishly, he accepted her offer. Rierana shifted her arms behind her, smiling expectantly. Something pulled at the edge of her lips.

  He’d always had trouble reading her intentions. Did she… remember him? Or was she simply happy for having someone try her cooking?

  His need to know was more insistent than his hunger. He wanted her to say his name. Longed to hear her voice calling him. For some reason, he felt that if Rierana had forgotten about him too… then nothing else in the world mattered.

  “Come on now, try it,” she insisted. “I didn’t poison it.”

  He downed a spoonful, unable to swallow the truth. It was amazing. The best food he’d ever tasted. Creamy, and rich, with just the right tang of spice to it.

  Tears pricked his eyes. This was the first thing he’d eaten after waking from his coma. Rierana was proud of this recipe, serving it to all their guests. He must’ve had it a hundred times, and he always told her he loved it.

  She had no reason to ask his opinion now.

  “Is something the matter?” she asked, looking concerned. “Is it too salty?”

  Skye shook his head and wiped his eyes. “No,” he croaked. He took another mouthful, but the knot in his throat made it hard to swallow. “It’s perfect.”

  Rierana grinned, balancing on her toes for a second. She looked splendid, her brown hair almost glowing under the sun, her green eyes shining.

  “Tell that to Mrs. Marwy.” She pouted. “She’s the head chef here and she thinks it’s awful. Says it’s too early for me to be a cook.”

  Skye kept eating. The soup’s flavor prickling his tongue, bittersweet.

  Rierana had forgotten him.

  Everything they’d done together was purged from her mind. All their adventures and games gone. As if they’d never known each other.

  His legs trembled, but he forced them still. His eyes stung, but he blinked them dry. He didn’t want to collapse and sob, to beg her to remember him. He had to finish quickly, and leave.

  “Do you like working here?” he asked to distract himself.

  She tilted her head, looking up in thought. “Not really. I’m only a janitor now. But it’s a great opportunity to watch real chefs working. Also, I get to see the sun every day, which is great! How about you? What do you do?”

  He swallowed another mouthful, ignoring the question. “Is Solarite District always this beautiful?”

  She shook her head sideways. “Most of the time. It was misty this morning, which is a different kind of charm. I wonder how a storm would look like with thunder rumbling and lightning flashing through the clouds. Or how a rainbow might look after!” She trailed off, smiling wistfully. “Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine,” he lied.

  “What’s your name?”

  Skye choked. She’d asked him this question a long time ago, when he’d awoken from his coma, stripped of his memories. In those days, terrible nightmares plagued his sleep, and he’d scream throughout the night, demanding to see the sky.

  As such, Rierana started calling him ‘Skye’. It was a girly name, and everyone teased him for it. But since she liked it, he let it stick.

  He was Skye because of her. She had to remember!

  “Skye,” he said, clutching the bowl tightly, knuckles white.

  “That’s a nice name! It suits you.” She leaned in closer, staring at his eyes. “Your irises are blue as the sky!”

  He looked away, unable to meet her gaze.

  She reached for a handshake. “I’m Rierana.” Her skin was soft and warm, as always. “Your hand is cold. And you look pale. Are you sure you’re fine?”

  He wiped his mouth with a sleeve, returning the empty bowl. “It’s just… your cooking reminds me of happy times. Thank you.”

  She accepted the bowl with a huge grin on her face. “That’s the best praise I’ve ever had.” She noticed the ribbon on his wrist and frowned. “That’s…” Tugging at her hair, she felt her own ribbon.

  “Rierana?” Someone shouted from inside, making her jump. “Where in the Void are you?”

  “Oops! Sorry, Skye, I have to go.” She walked backwards. “We’ll talk again. Don’t let the wardens catch you doing something stupid!”

  She vanished into the kitchen, the door closing behind her.

  A cloud passed overhead. Cold winds rustled the trees angrily. Where was the charm in visiting the surface if he did it alone? What was so blissful about the bell saving his life if it took away everything else?

  It had made him a nobody. Like those lifeless statues forgotten in the Deeps. Like those who were dead.

  He felt an overwhelming need to curl up and cry. He wished the bell would finish what it had started and erase him as well. But he didn’t have the luxury for rest yet. Green Eve was two months away, and unless he acted, everyone in Troqua was in mortal danger.

  He summoned his bell, chasing it with his eyes. Dong! He frowned. He must have pulled on the mental tether too strong, because he hadn’t intended to ring it.

  Basalt’s words echoed in his mind. If he wanted to bring any justice, if he were to save anyone, he needed a team, people he could rely upon to spread the truth. And for that, he needed his loved ones to remember him.

  To save his city, he had to break this curse.

  ?????Days until Green Eve: 61?????