Midday. One week after the destruction of Vice-General Kuraku’s base camp.

  The way the Worm Mages were celebrating today, Sparrow would never have known they’d almost started a full-blown war with the Hagi’Shar Forward Army.

  Having stopped their daily expeditions to the glacier for Boreus hunting a week ago, all of them still able-bodied—anyone that him or Ninmah—had started shoring up defences around the village. That meant sharpening the rocks on the surrounding blackrock mountains, digging twenty-metre-deep crevices right outside the fences just to cover them up with snow, and hanging wind chimes on every boulder they could find outside the village; the chimes would alert them to any imminent Boreus infestation, the crevices would trap any trespassers, and the sharpened blackrock mountains meant crawling around them to enter the village from any other side would be impossibly painful for giant bug legs. It wasn’t perfect defence by any means, but it was better than nothing, it gave the children something to do while the elders handled the important work.

  The morning after Ninmah had been brought back from Vice-General Kuraku’s base camp, the elders had kidnapped Minki from her bed in the library and dragged her up to the shrine at the top of the world. It was rather strange participating in the ceremony from a spectator’s perspective, but Sparrow thought it was only deserving that Ninmah also gave Minki the moonflower hair ornament all of the Worm Mages had. Without Minki’s support, he wouldn’t have been able to figure out the number of soldiers, their guard locations, and their general firepower by himself. He probably wouldn’t have gotten Ninmah out of the camp by himself.

  Now Minki was a Child of Immanu, too, and she wore her ornament like a hair band, tying up a tuft of her short and wild hair like a crooked beetle horn.

  Military discipline would have her put her hair back down, but the General wasn’t here to yell at them, so Sparrow supposed she could do her hair however she liked. The person who been allowed to do as she liked, however, was the village chief herself—the children had been adamant about locking her in the library for most of the past week, fearing she’d be kidnapped again, so to assuage their fears she’d reluctantly played the damsel’s part and never once attempted to leave. Not even through the windows for a quiet midnight stroll.

  Though, with the curtains drawn over all the windows from the outside, maybe it was more so she leave by warping.

  It was only this week that Sparrow finally realised none of the Worm Mages could actually warp with their eyes closed, or if they couldn’t see where they wanted to reappear. Vice-General Kuraku had discovered an unexpected weakness of theirs he’d never considered—and for good reason, too. The first time he’d been brought to Death Rope Passage, Ninmah had put her hands over his eyes and he warped just fine, so he’d automatically assumed all of them could do the same… but that was far from the case. He’d tested it out with Utu a few days ago. When the Worm Mages were blindfolded, they quite literally couldn’t bring themselves to open wormholes; they were too afraid of not knowing where their wormholes would bring them.

  But he and Minki could warp with their eyes closed just fine, so that was a skill he’d have to drill into the rest of them if he could find the time.

  … The big word was ‘if’.

  If he wasn’t helping with shoring up defences, butchering bug meat, or just handling his daily chores, he’d be sleeping daylight away in order to recover from the incredible strain he’d accumulated during his assault on the camp. He’d pushed himself to the brink of death that day: getting both his hands scorched in the morning, overstuffing his stomach with Boreus meat in the afternoon, and then fighting over a hundred soldiers in the blizzard at night had left his half-inorganic body more than bruised and battered. He hadn’t had a single bite of bug meat this past week as a result. There was a soft limit to how much bug meat a single human could consume in a short period of time without getting food poisoning, and though, again, he had a half-inorganic body that allowed him to eat way more food than humanly possible, the last thing both he and Minki wanted was to die of overeating.

  So, in order to rest their bodies, both of them were sitting out today’s ‘Worm Dance’ celebration.

  The celebration was as its name suggested: instead of napping quietly for an hour after lunch, the ninety-nine children each picked up a giant silver ring and held it over their heads, lining up to form the segments of colossal worms.

  There were five groups of around fifteen to twenty children, so there were five colossal worms. Then, there were five ‘lures’, who were elders with buckets of crystal quartz strapped onto their backs. The ‘heads’ of each worm had to lead the way for the rest of the children behind them, and the ‘tails’ were always trying so hard not to be left behind. If there was a gap of five metres between any two children, it’d count as breaking formation, and all the children behind the broken segment would have to sit the rest of the game out. If any of them let their rings fall off their heads, they’d also be breaking formation. Only the heads could tag the lures with their slinkies, and if anyone else tried to tag, the entire group would be disqualified.

  And, at the end of the hour-long stamina-draining gameafter going through so much trouble just to adhere to the rules—whichever group survived with the most length or managed to tag the most lures would win… .

  Sparrow hadn’t really caught onto the ‘reward’ part of winning the game during Utu’s explanation, and he didn’t think most of the children knew what they’d win, either. It was just a fun and ridiculous game to spectate from atop the bell tower—ninety-nine children shouting and laughing and trying not to tip off balance from their heavy rings, while the running lures stuck their tongues out and taunted the heads with their last-second warps.

  He’d been watching for the past fifty minutes, and not a single lure had been tagged yet.

  Minki commented, eyes slanted as she followed one of the colossal worms trying to jump across a roof. All of the children had to jump in sequence, each segment keeping within the five metre distance, and that was just not easy to coordinate.

  he mumbled, crossing his arms behind his head and lying back on the gabled roof of the bell tower.

  Minki tilted her head.

  He nodded.

  Ninmah warped behind the two of them and whacked them on their heads, scowling fiercely.

  Utu said, warping in front of them to whack them on their heads again. Then the one-eyed boy with a flower-patterned eyepatch pulled Minki to her feet, grinning from ear to ear with a rifle in his hands.

  He might’ve hallucinated it, but Sparrow felt as though he saw Minki’s cheeks reddening before the two of them warped away—likely to the eastern edge of the village where the children had made giant Boreus snow statues as archery practice targets.

  Since he and Minki had managed to rob about a dozen crates of unused rifles and ammos from the base camp, the elders of the village had been training to use the Attini Empire’s weapons against invading Boreus. Rifles were more accurate over long distances—though it didn’t matter much when wormholes could shorten the travel distance anyways—and bullets were also far superior at piercing chitin compared to arrows, so the elders hadn’t been stubborn about keeping to their traditional weapons. They were resolved to see this battle through to the end. Utu, especially, had been trying to hone his accuracy with his rifle recently, and the rest of them were… slowly coming along as well.

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  Frankly, Sparrow thought rifles were far less technical weapons than bows and arrows, but for some godforsaken reason, the Worm Mages were simply slow at handling their rifles. He didn’t understand how, with their superior attribute levels, they simply fire more than eight shots in a single second like he could, but maybe it was just as Utu said. Maybe he was just a terrible teacher. In that case, he supposed he could just leave teaching the elders how to use the Attini Empire’s rifles to Minki. As long as they didn’t expend too much ammo during shooting practice, he didn’t really feel the need to supervise Utu and the rest of the elders whenever they wanted to train.

  For his part, he simply needed… to rest a little longer. And then he’d start eating bug meat again. And then he’d resume his personal training, the elders’ training, check up on the village’s defences, assess the Boreus’ strength by the glacier, plan an assault on their brood nest, and—

  Ninmah said, flicking him on the forehead as she sat down next to him, taking Minki’s seat. Then she curled up in a ball and smirked at him, the children still shouting and laughing far below them.

  He glanced at her bandaged left hand with his arms still crossed behind his head, frowning slightly.

  he started,

  She pumped her left arm with her cheeks puffed, her grin joyfully brimming.

  And that was the end.

  Maybe there was more they could talk about—like the new vocabulary he was still learning every night, or the younger children’s growing enthusiasm to take more active roles in fighting off the invading Boreus—but ever since he’d returned to the village after the base camp slaughter, he’d been wondering when, exactly, he’d started to look for something to fill silence with.

  When he’d been in his Bullet Ant Battalion, nobody talked. Part of it was because they allowed to talk, but they draw and gesture and mime to each other. They’d just… never done it. Not during firefights. Not during mealtimes. Not in camps, not in baths, not anywhere at all. Silence was a precious commodity. Without it, the sounds of movement wouldn’t be apparent and they wouldn’t be able to respond quickly to an ambush. Without it, they wouldn’t be able to hear the winds and the clouds blowing in, and they wouldn’t be able to adjust their aim properly depending on the weather.

  What was so wrong about silence?

  Why did he feel so ‘awkward’ in both his chest and throat as he sat with Ninmah, doing nothing but staring up at the cloudy sky?

  Ninmah whispered, lying back against the gabled roof as well, their heads touching just barely. Then she craned her head just slightly, giving him a soft, small smile.

  He closed his eyes halfway, nodding slowly.

  Ninmah turned her body sideways, resting her head against her arm.

  he said plainly.

  he continued, closing his eyes fully.

  he finished.

  He paused for another moment, tilting his chin up.

  he said, after a moment of hesitation.

  He trailed off, losing his train of thought.

  That must’ve been the most he’d ever spoken in his entire life, and he didn't think he even remembered half of what he'd said.

  None of it was a concrete ‘plan’.

  None of it was purely ‘logical’.

  When had he gotten so scatterbrained, so… ‘irrational’?

  Did he actually have a plan, or was he just pretending like he had one?

  Ninmah said, flicking the tip of his nose.

  He opened his eyes slowly, turning to look at her.

  she said, a small, wistful smile twisting her lips.

  He furrowed his brows, but she squeezed his hands and rested her head against his shoulder before he could speak.

  she whispered.

  Exhaling slowly, he shook his head and squeezed back—careful not to put too much force on her bandaged hand.

  The thought of fighting the General and the Forward Army alone scared him, but ‘together’, he felt a little less scared.

  The Worm Mages living miracles, after all.

  he said, and Ninmah’s eyes twinkled with delight, lighting up with hope. She’d gotten through to him, and she knew it.

  She nodded furiously. alone here.”

  He blinked, surprised at the forcefulness in her voice.

  At this moment, she sounded far stronger than him.

  It made him feel… warm inside.

  Strange.

  he muttered, and for some reason, he felt a bit of heat in his face.

  Ninmah shot him a pretty, teasing smile as she poked at his cheeks.

  His Vibrational Senses made his spine tingle, and a half moment later, the wind chimes south of the village rang aloud in sequence.

  Everyone heard it.

  And the worm dance below them stopped at once as he warped onto his feet, gripping his rifle tight in one hand.

  In the far distance, three humanoid shadows clawed over the edge of the three-thousand-metre slope, and Sparrow instantly recognised their gleaming black teeth.

  The same teeth he used to have.

  Days until Storm Strider launch: 14

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