Pale beams of light shone through the window shutters into Ynnam’s bleary eyes, as they fluttered slowly open. It took a few seconds after he awoke, for reality to set back in. The realisation that his brothers were still missing stung bitterly. He would’ve found them laying in their hammocks opposite his, if they’d returned. But they were conspicuously empty. The room he shared with his brothers seemed so empty without them. As he combed through the house for any sign of his brothers having returned, he battled with himself about what action to take. If he left to find his brothers then no one would be there to help his father look after the farm and the icy wastes he’d be trekking across were formidable in winter. Whereas if he stayed, then Jurva and Urye might be lost forever. He knew his father wouldn’t let him leave. He knew he’d have to take matters into his own hands.

The icy wind flowed across Ynnam’s exposed skin as he stepped into he twilight outside, making him raise a hand to his face to shield himself. His skin tingled from the cold and his mouth felt dry. Last night’s snowstorm had caused chaos. The barn doors had detached from their hinges. Tufts of straw were littering the ground and a mountain’s worth of snow was coating absolutely everything. The semi-skeletal silkworms chittered weakly from the barn, asking for respite from the cold. Ynnam pumped out a bucket of sludge water and gave it to them. They greedily lapped it up.

“They’ll survive a couple of days without me here” Ynnam muttered to himself, eyeing the giant insects thoughtfully and only half believing what he’d just said

He’d somewhat come to a decision; he was off to find his brothers. Before he could dally enough to allow himself to change his mind, he crept back inside the house, collected some survival gear into a burlap sack then slung its straps around his shoulders. He then returned to his bedroom and rummaged through his cupboard until he found his cold-proof silken jumpsuit. His fingers reacted to its touch, feeling tingly and energised. He disrobed and slipped into the jumpsuit. Wearing it, he felt like he’d been engulfed by the sea. It was cool, and somehow also pleasurable like a breeze on a hot summer’s day. The silk’s magic leapt into his skin when it made contact with him, bestowing him energy and power. He shivered from the sensation, still not quite used to it- he imagined he never truly would be.

Next, Ynnam wrapped a scarf around his neck and lower face and slipped into his father’s bulky snowskin leather jacket.

Before leaving, he crossed the upstairs corridor and cautiously pushed ajar the door to his father’s bedroom. He saw to his relief that he was still deeply asleep, their pet leech sleeping peacefully at the foot of his bed. As Ynnam moved to leave the bedroom he was abruptly taken aback by the sound of a bugle-horn echoing across the glacier.

His father’s eyes shot open and looked off in the direction of the noise, listening intently. A long tense silence followed, punctuated only by the leech hissing in alarm.

Ynnam stood absolutely still, waiting for his father to tell him what to do. The Ynnam that had bravely decided to go off and search for his brothers had melted away, leaving behind a frightened boy in its absence. He often reverted to this state in the company of his father,

He jumped as a hand firmly grabbed him by his wrist. Gripping him tighter and tighter, his father started to lead him slowly towards the attic. His wrist turned pale as his father squeezed. He yelped under his breath from the pain. But he was ignored, his father’s grip tightening further. Ynnam understood why his father was hurting him; it was a wordless command to remain deadly silent, and do exactly as he asked. He obeyed his father’s silent instruction, knowing that he didn’t have a choice. The leech slithered obediently but warily after them. The sound of the bugle-horn came again, louder and closer this time.

The pair of them crept slowly up a rickety ladder and into the dimly lit attic, closing its hatch behind them as they entered. His father bolted it shut, then released Ynnam. Next he untied the muzzle from the leech, demonstrating to Ynnam that violence was a very real and near possibility.

“Father, what is…” Ynnam started to whisper

“Shush they’ll ‘ear us! Now, I’ve gotta go fetch summat, bolt the door after I’ve left!” his father hissed, not awaiting a reply of understanding from Ynnam before he unbolted the attic door and climbed back down the ladder.

Ynnam, hardly lucid and in a state of sheer panic, obeyed his father’s instruction and locked himself inside the attic, accompanied only by the leech. Unable to cope with the mounting tension he then slid himself under a dusty table and shut his eyes as tight as he could.

The floorboards below creaked as his father pounded through the house, looking for something.

A sudden hubbub of voices and boots stomping sounded from outside, then rose gradually in volume before abruptly stopping.

“Hail, Heretics! By the order of his excellency the Arch-Sentinel, we claim ownership over this land.” a deep booming voice called from near the house’s periphery “Submit and vacate the premises forthwith, or we will be authorised to employ deadly force”

Ynnam scrunched himself into a ball, willing the terror to end. He hadn’t a clue what the man outside was talking about, and was in no mood to find out. Hurried footsteps creaked up the ladder once more. Ynnam dared to open his eyes, then heard his father slamming his fist on the hatch. Ynnam unbolted it before his father burst into the attic armed with a crossbow. A twanging clunk sounded as his father armed the weapon, slotting a bolt into its mechanism then crouching down behind the attic’s window- ready to defend what was his.

“Sentinels! Advance!” The deep voice outside urged his subordinates onward towards Ynnam’s home

Dull thwacks sounded against the wooden wall of the house. Arrow-fire, Ynnam realised, was its cause. A tremor of fear crept through him like an aggressive tumour, his heartbeat soaring and his bowels releasing their contents.

“You’ll get the fuck back, if you know what’s good for you!” his father growled at the Sentinels from his stooped position below the attic window.

His threat made them hesitate rather than fire any more arrows

“They’re out there aren’t they?” Ynnam said, his voice becoming a terror-stricken contralto

In a flash of sudden movement, his father smashed a glass pane with his elbow then pointed his crossbow through the hole he’d created. With a loud clunk, the crossbow fired. A guttural cry sounded outside. The crossbow bolt had found its target. Ynnam clung desperately to the shred of hope he possessed that told him the Sentinels would retreat and leave them alone.

“Man down! Do not waste his meat!” The deep voice said, unperturbed

Ynnam summoned up the courage to peek outside, through the half-broken window. A gory sight greeted him, as he crouched down next to his father. A gathering of figures garbed in fluffy grey uniforms had descended hungrily upon one of their own, ripping through his clothes and into his flesh. They tore away crimson slathers of meat from the man, which they then thrust into their mouth and gulped down hungrily. The Sentinel they were tearing into had a crossbow bolt embedded in his forehead.

One of the figures stood apart from the rest, evidently resisting the urge to devour his fallen comrade. Unlike the others he was completely naked, in spite of the sub-zero temperature outside. To Ynnam’s disgust, he saw that the man’s bare skin was encrusted with slabs of resiny bone- like an exoskeleton. Looking him up and down, he found himself drawn to the naked man’s eyes. Luminous red eyeballs cast his face in a pale crimson glow. He’d heard his father blather on about the red-eyed men when he’d had too much to drink, but he’d always assumed they were fictional. To see one in the flesh was like seeing a nightmare brought to life.

“Stay back!” his father warned, before firing off another crossbow bolt

The bolt sailed towards the naked Sentinel before pinging off his exoskeleton without leaving a mark. A hateful grimace manifested itself on his face in reaction to the assault. Shrugging off the attack, he then bared his teeth and pointed toward the terrified boy in the attic, staking his claim to his flesh.