“Mppph mpmh mpph,” Seren muttered to herself, the words coming out muffled. Great. She couldn’t even encourage herself to take the bridge. She placed her right foot onto the first slat, swallowing hard at the city under her feet. Strands of hair began to pull free of her makeshift tie, tugged into playing by mischievous winds. She’d much rather look in any other direction than down, but didn’t really have much a choice this time. Deep breaths in, she told herself. Measured breaths out. In with images of lively gold motes, out with tired grey. Instead of thinking about how far it would be to drop, she should concentrate on the designs of all the buildings below her feet.

First to catch her eyes was a green roof. Colored the new green of spring leaves, it was bigger than its neighbors and had a thin, reddish object to the left of it. Was that… hmm. That might actually be a clock tower.

She took another step, thoughts skipping to how high she was. If she was right, then either the building was taller than she’d thought, or the clock was shorter. No chimney on the building though. Where did the people of that building do their cooking? Was there a place nearby that had a fire going? Putting aside the pleasant temperature of the day, didn’t they need heat for winter, or for bathing?

Another step, another wooden slat on the bridge. The green slipped out of view and she started looking at a dark blue roof. Much smaller than the previous place, but this one had smoke coming out of the top, so they at least had a fire going. Well, maybe this was a place to bathe, or to have food cooked.

Step by step, she crossed. Below her was a mishmash of styles and places she couldn’t see fitting any single category. Roofs. That was something to focus on. Seren flexed her free fingers as she tried to count the differences alone. Arched, flat, curved, bowed in, bowed out, with windows, missing windows, and that wasn’t close to touching upon colors. Besides what surely must be homes, she could see markets, bells, and clock towers, but those were the only recognizable sections from this height. Everything else jumbled into a mix of shops, homes, inns, and who knew what else. It wasn’t like she’d been here before.

When her feet touched white stone, she jumped a little in happiness… and regretted that action, moving as fast as she could further away from the bridge. Solid footing! And banishment of the thought that had been circling her for the last few feet; if she fell and hit a person, would it kill both of them?

It was much cooler here than on the bridge, which shouldn’t be true since both areas had whistling gusts of wind leaching away any sun-given warmth and there was still the touch of sun on her skin. She followed more white stones as they spiraled, splitting into two sections. One dropped away into an area without sunlight. The other, and of course the lightened section, beckoned her higher.

Seren sighed. She still didn’t know where she was going, she wasn’t sure what time it was, or how long it had been since she’d landed, and at this point, she couldn’t tell you where she’d been. All she could do was work her way up, noting with fascination that even though the edges were cracked and chipped, there wasn’t a lighter, worn section that showed the passage of people through time. Was the stone different from wood? At home sunlight had whitened the porch out back, sure, but she hadn’t forgotten that dip in the middle on the first step since the three of them had skipped the creaky second as much as possible.

At the top, she stopped to take a slight break. Sweat dripped down her neck and the sides of her face, and in this small chamber was a hole in the ceiling with a thin ladder under it. There was no way she could climb it with one hand. Seren wiped her neck with the bottom of her shirt to remove sweat, then tucked the letter she’d been carrying under her chin and went up.

Her first impression was light. When her eyes were level with the floor, she saw flames, blue and white, crackling in what she would call a bonfire if it was autumn. Lining the pathway to the fire were words set in the white stone. Not just one or two, but entire lines. She couldn’t read most of them. The nearest script looked to be circles and dots. Another was angular, almost chipped, and there were more behind those two. Colors also changed, and judging by the handwriting, different people had written all of this at different times. The fourth line was legible.

Thank you for petitioning ice and flames. Here we bring your request to the goddess of relationships, of fate. Present your letter.

Seren fully climbed out, putting the letter back into her hands to follow the instructions. This was a temple? A shrine? Was Bri praying or was the berth manager passing along a prayer from someone else, and why was she the person who needed to take it? The slightly damped letter was taken from her hand, the edge crossing her palm. She had heard nothing to indicate someone was nearby, and her heart began beating faster as the light she could see faded.

Bri had told her to breathe in the smoke, hadn’t she? Seren did so and tasted woodsmoke, something spicy, and a hint of ash.

Then the threads wrapped around her melted away. Tears stung as colors returned with a fierceness she had never before applied to pale pinks and soft whites. She jumped as a hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun while blocking her head. Nothing happened.

Cautiously, she peeked out from behind her arms. A short being stood before her, clad in a simple blue shirt and white pair of pants, a smile on their face, and deep laugh lines at the edges of their eyes. Their hair was two-toned, the blue and white braided together and going down to just above the floor, and there were several bracelets along each arm, once again alternating between the two colors.

“Hello?” Seren gasped, fingers touching the base of her throat. “I can talk again!”

The figure shook its head and put a finger in front of their mouth.

“Sorry!” Seren whispered, feeling an embarrassing red spread across her face. “Where am I?”

They didn’t answer.

“How do I leave?”

A hand pointed to the side, and when she turned she saw a sign, once again written in several languages, telling her that leaving would be out that way and down.

“Can I ask you a question?”

The person shook their head, then pointed at the sign. Their eyes also narrowed, communicating that they were less than happy at the persistent questioning.

“I’ll just go, then, alright?” Seren took a step to the open doorway, and the being moved backwards, the opposite of what she’d done. They smiled and nodded. Seren put her hand over her mouth to make sure that she’d keep quiet. Even though she was pretty sure they wanted her gone, she wanted to look while there was still time.

The stonework was beautiful. Scenes of mountains decorated the top of the walls, and it was never the same mountain twice. Some of them were small, others were jagged, but the one thing that unified them were ice caps and brief spurts of fire between each etching.

Ducking under the doorway, she had to close her eyes for a few seconds since it had led her outside. Now she was higher than the bridge and she saw everything around her. To her right, almost behind her, shadows flickered from that massive burning fire. Below, at a depth too great for her to measure, were more buildings than she’d seen when crossing the bridge. This place must have had a long history to collect so many people in one area.

The view of the sky was beautiful, though. There were a few other sails in the clouds, and she saw the sea her ship had sailed over to get here, a sparkly silver way off in the distance. Her ship! Seren ran to the doorway for the exit and threw herself down the stairs. She was finally free. She could start working on getting her papers together, and making enough money to cover the fees!

Spiraling down left her head spinning, and by the time she managed to make it to the last door, if she told her feet to move left, they went right.

“Too... many... floors...” she muttered, arms holding her stomach, as if that would stop the sick feeling. A shaky step forward and she fell back to the outside wall, panting for breath and struggling not to throw up. Her legs were wobbly enough to have her sitting on the ground, but she pushed against her thighs and concentrated on steadying herself.

In addition to the colors was a cacophony of overwhelming sounds. Beings shouted, children shrieked, items clunked, and the sound of boots stomping across the cobblestones was not music to Seren’s ears. She whimpered, used her hands to try muffling the sounds, and slid down the wall in an attempt to hide. A small part whispered that it was okay to feel that everything was too much for the moment, and pointed out that she’d have to get used to this if she wanted to register her ship and fly. She knew that, but it was too hard to stand up.

A stone struck the wall near her; she looked up.

Hair. That was what grabbed her attention first. It wasn’t long and straight like hers; it also wasn’t on the sides, only in the middle, and the spiky stripe was a wild mix of summer sky blues, which was a dazzling contrast against the being’s deep bronze skin, dark brown pants, and the two sand-colored bags resting on their hips.

“What?”

“Move, I need that space.”

Seren looked to her side. She wasn’t in the way of the stairs.

“I need. Your space.” The person waited, and she realized she’d never seen orange eyes before. “Tell you what. You can continue panicking when I’m done, how about that? Just as long as you move now.”

Seren scooted across the ground until they grunted. They stepped up and rapped the back of their knuckles on the stones, repeating a sharp pattern twice. After a few seconds, a basket dropped in front of them, roped in such a way that whatever was hauled up wouldn’t fall out, even if the day was windy.

The rude person rummaged in a bag at their side, then dumped most of what they took out into the basket.

“There.” They tapped the wall again, and the basket left to swing higher and higher. They caught Seren’s look. “What? It’s lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“Yeah, you know. Food.” They brought their hand to their mouth, then chewed air, though the two of them had spoken in the same language. “Things you eat.”

Seren’s stomach growled. The last thing she’d eaten had been the jerky on the ship.

“Um... where can I get something to eat?” she asked. She’d been promised ten eyes from Bri, but she’d have to talk to Jo to collect them and she was hungry now.

“You don’t know where to buy food?” Orange eyes kept staring, and Seren was feeling uneasy at the other end.

“Actually, is there a forest nearby?” Woods meant mushrooms, greens, and maybe some wild vegetables. “I should be able to gather enough for myself that way.”

They laughed, not doing anything to hide their amusement at her request.

“Ha, a forest nearby. Funny. Very funny.” They cocked their head. “Hasn’t been one for years. Didn’t think you’d have a sense of humor, you don’t look like you’d have one.”

“I wasn’t joking. Um, where am I?” Before they answered, Seren shook her head. “Not the city. I know I’m in Viadora, but where in it?”

“Easy answer since you’re leaning up against it. White Tower means you're in White District.” They turned away, then stopped, head hanging down and shoulders folding in. She heard the heavy sigh they let out, then watched as they scratched the side of their head. Their voice rose. “Look, just follow me, okay? My dad would murder me for forgetting his brand of manners, and my moms would faint if they knew I was disrespecting the Goddess. Having all of them as my parents gets you a free meal, but only one. Then you’re on your own.”

They started walking, but then paused and turned to her.

“Coming?”

Seren stumbled to her feet and nodded. An island, any island, was needed. There were so many people here she couldn’t hear herself think, couldn’t listen to what she was telling herself, and couldn’t collect thoughts that scattered everywhere. She followed the blue-haired person, flashes of movement and colors and sound and even differing temperatures continuing to distract her. And the people! For more than a few seconds, she wished she was limited to only feet and shoes again.

“What flip of the coin landed you at the White Tower?”

“Coin?”

They stopped and looked back.

“You’re... not from here, are you?”

Seren shook her head.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” They shook their head the entire time they talked. “Come on, home’s not far from here.”

“What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?”

“Ser—” she stopped, tongue twisted. If she was really going to change her name, then she needed to start now.

“You don’t know your name? That’s new. Do I need to get you some medicine, too?”

“Serri.”

“Nice.” They stuck a hand out, creases of dark grease in the cracks between callused fingers and ragged nails. “Rive.”

Seren shook with them, trying not to grimace as an oily feeling spread on her palm.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah yeah, and you.” Rive glanced around, then motioned for Seren to keep following them. “This way.”

They passed an array of places, the materials of the buildings made up of wood and stone. A bakery with buttery scents wafting out, another place which left her ears ringing after each hammer strike, and several homes full of beings doing the thousand and one chores needed to run a household. Turning left, skirting a grey fountain halfway, and finally squeezing between two tight buildings, Rive stopped, looking up and waving to someone in an upper window.

“This is it?”

“Yep. Best place in the city. We’re far enough from clock towers, shrines, and churches that they don’t wake us up, the fountain back there is for washing clothes, and the Naamuk family makes the best bread.” There was an accompanying eyebrow waggle at this. “They stuff something inside the bread, and it’s always a delicious surprise. If you can get some, at any rate. Sells out pretty damn fast.”

Seren looked up at a two-story building. The roof was slanted heavily to point upwards at the clouds and a door wasn’t there; in its place was a curtain of beads, followed by another of fabric. Rive was already pulling it to the side and beckoning Seren in.

“Come on, it’s fine,” they said to her, then turning to shout upwards. “Dafar! Found someone!”

She tiptoed closer, near enough to hear heavy footsteps thumping down stairs, along with a lighter, separate thunk.

“Rive, I’m proud of you. You’ve never brought a blessing home on your own. Good on your mothers for getting manners to stick.” The voice wasn’t harsh; it was aged, creaking between words and recovering with large breaths. From the gloom on the stairs came an older person, their cane hitting the ground before their feet. “Huh. New. Well, make a place at the table.”

Seren glanced around, and Rive waved her over to them, walking past the stairs and to the right.

“Serri and I are hungry.”

“Rive, when aren’t you hungry?” The comment wasn’t said harshly, and it made Seren smile. Dafar sounded a bit like her father, gruff when he was being kind. “Ask our ghost how hungry they are.”

Ghost? Seren turned to Rive, ready to ask why she was being called that when they nodded at her.

“So? How hungry are you?”

Her stomach answered before she could, growling loud enough that Rive fell to the ground and rolled around laughing.

“Yeah, Dafar, I think Serri’s pretty hungry. Any cheese left?”

“You know where to check.”

Serri sat on a cushion on the floor, folding her legs underneath her. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but if this kind family was going to feed her, then she would not complain. Maybe she could ask them about earning money, or who would know about fixing ships.