~Part 1~

Year 832

Greta hurriedly shut the windows and drew the ratty curtains, glad they were on the third floor. Emily's screams were hard enough to muffle already; it was one thing to be concerned about the front desk hearing and getting reprimanded, but another thing entirely to be worried about enforcers showing up.

They would love any excuse to barge into the women's home. The older woman’s wrinkles seemed to deepen as she rushed back to Emily’s side, grabbing one of her hands in her own.

“Sh, sh, Emily. I know it hurts, but you must hush before you draw unwanted attention.” Greta’s kind voice did little to calm Emily. Kneeling between the woman’s legs was Juliette, the once-veterinarian doing her best to help. As Juliette’s brown eyes met Greta’s blue ones, it was clear to both women they were out of their league. Neither of them had ever given birth themselves, or helped someone else through it. But they wouldn’t abandon Emily to do this alone; they’d known for the past three months that this birth was coming.

Greta offered Emily a thick, clean glove to bite down on. Better than nothing. Emily glared at Greta, a rueful smirk gracing her lips. “Shut up, bitch. I’m pushing a kid out of a hole the size of a quarter. I think I’m allowed a little screaming.”

Juliette and Greta only had two seconds to chuckle before another contraction hit, drawing harsh expletives from Emily’s mouth. This went on longer than they had prepared for. Juliette’s hands shook as she tried to keep Emily’s legs clean, as well as the area under her on the floor. Greta had to answer insistent knocks on her bedroom door several times; each time, Emily had to do her best not to make a sound. Sure, the other women living in the building knew she had been pregnant, but they would insist on calling enforcers if they found out she was actively giving birth a few rooms over.

Births were rare enough on the island that the mayor had an intricate cataloguing system set up for each one, to keep track of bloodlines and such. That was fine and dandy, except he charged exorbitant fees for the convenience of doing so, and then charged you for the medical help with delivering to boot. Again, that would be fine if he gave his citizens a choice on the matter. Emily sure as hell didn’t have the coppers for that, and on top of that, didn’t exactly know who the father was. That would be another fee for them to track him down.

No, giving birth in this dingy room without pain medication was preferable.

Fifteen hours later, Juliette, Greta, and Emily were all exhausted and wan. But they’d done it: Juliette couldn’t keep her face from crumbling as she held the newborn. Greta was carefully pushing hair off Emily’s face, feeling her pulse and temperature, while the vet cleaned the baby.

“Is the baby okay? Am I done?” Emily panted, body trembling. She couldn’t feel a fucking thing in her legs. They’d long since gone numb from being in one position for so long. She pushed up on shaky elbows, both women turning to Juliette.

“Oh.” The younger woman sighed in wonder before raising her gaze to meet theirs. “Emily, you have a beautiful baby [gender]. I think everything went smoothly. Would you like to hold [pronoun]?”

Emily didn’t get the chance to respond. As soon as she’d heard the affirmative, her eyes rolled back, and she fainted back onto the ground.

~Part 2~

Year 836

Greta idly watched out her bedroom window, eyes absentmindedly following the pedestrians as they went about their business. It was a humid day, as was normal on Culvan Island. At least today there was a slight breeze blowing through the open panes. A small gurgle came from over Greta’s shoulder, and she turned to examine the toddler in the middle of the room. The young girl was leaning back against a worn rattan stool, playing with a couple small wooden figures that one of the other women in the building had carved for her.  

Greta felt a smile pull at her lips as she knelt by the child. “Are you having fun, [Name]?” The old woman reached out to ruffle the girl’s black hair. “Mama should be home soon.”

She didn’t mind getting put on babysitting duty everyday; someone had to do it, and she was the only one in their trio of friends who was past her prime working age. Esme didn’t answer her, though she wasn’t expecting one. Greta simply watched as the kid played, a profound feeling of contentment coming over her; the room, while small for three people to share, felt cozy and lived in. The three beds were pushed into separate corners, the small kitchenette in the remaining corner, and every inch otherwise was covered in decorations or crafts or clothing. The window was also small, but faced the sunset, and so every day they were treated to warm yellow rays casting a glow over the room.

The breeze coming off the sea played in Esme’s curls as she giggled and threw one of the figurines. Outside, Greta could hear two of her neighbors speaking:

“I still can’t believe he was next in line. Something feels off about that; he’s way too young.”

“No shit. What is he, a few years past twenty? What kind of leadership experience would you even have that young? Not the kind that lets you run an entire island.”

“Yeah, well. I guess it’s like they say; if you don’t like it, you can leave the city. Live with one of the tribes on the other side of the ‘cano.”

“Don’t be stupid. Those tribes are a myth. Nobody could survive in those jungles.”

The two must’ve walked away, their argument fading from hearing range. Greta’s mind wandered to the subject of their conversation. Mayor Ellis. He’d only been mayor for a month or so, but so far he hadn’t changed a single thing for the better. Actually, it seemed like he was intent on making everyone’s lives worse. Well, minus his, of course.

Her attention was drawn back to her ward when crying erupts from behind her. Greta hurried over to see Esme had abandoned the wooden figurines. The girl toddled around the small room, obviously looking for her mother. Esme hadn’t uttered a word yet, something that was cause for some concern. As far as the older woman knew, babies typically only took a couple years to start stringing sentences together. It wasn’t a vocal issue; the child spent a large part of the time whining vaguely or screaming. She wasn’t mute.

So instead, to get attention, the kid usually…

1. Babbled nonstop, arms waving wildly in the air, until an adult paid attention. [D]
2. Huffed and threw trinkets at the walls, sometimes continuing even after getting attention. [S]
3. Loud. It was ridiculous how many complaints they’d gotten from their neighbors. [A]

“Esme, stop that.” Greta bent and placed the kid on her hip. The rest of the afternoon was spent trying to occupy Emily’s child. Which wasn’t easy when the one person she wanted was absent. Nobody would argue that Esme hadn’t gotten Emily’s stubborn streak.

Juliette returned before Emily did, which helped a bit. The young woman was excellent with children, way better than Greta could say for herself. Greta sighed with relief, handing the vet the little girl and shuffling over to the kitchenette to fetch something cold to drink. Between the two of them, the time passed much quicker, and then Emily finally walked through the bedroom door.

Emily barely spared the other women a glance before she zeroed in on her baby. “Hello, honey!” She said, beaming and scooping Esme up. “Were you good for Mamaw and Aunt Juliette? Mama brought you a special treat.”

Working as a cargo bearer had very few perks, but one of them was sometimes being able to smooch some leftover stock from the fishmongers at the docks. It was nearly routine now for Emily to finish her shift and trudge over to the burly man with the lone fish stall that stayed open that late. She pulled the fried food out of her cargo pant pocket, wrapped in a cloth to keep relatively clean. Emily pinched a very small amount of fried batter off the tip and popped it in Esme’s mouth, grinning at the girl’s squeal.

Juliette and Greta’s gazes met over the scene, concern flaring between them. The younger woman cleared her throat, trying to get Emily’s attention. “Maybe you should save some of that for yourself. I didn’t want to say anything, but are you losing weight, Emily?”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” Emily sighed, eyes not leaving her daughter. “We’re down a few people at the docks. The rest of us are having to pick up the slack, which means our shifts are twice as grueling as normal.”

Greta bit her lip, glancing at their tiny shelving system with its paltry food contents. “You could always take some snacks to work. Keep up your strength. Who’ll take care of Esme if you collapse or worse?”

The obvious bait didn’t take. Instead, Emily just answered, “You two, duh. Besides, nothing will happen to me. I’ll be fine.”

~Part 3~

Year 843

Esme brushed her black curls out of her face. Her mother had tied most of the hair back with a headwrap, but a few persistent strands had escaped and now clung to her sweat. Culvan Island was always hot, but today felt worse than normal. The very air danced in front of everyone’s eyes as they tried to go about their day. It almost felt wet to breathe in.

Today was also one of the days that Emily allowed Esme to tag along and help with work at the docks. Thank the Gods. Otherwise, it would just be another day shut in with grumpy old Greta. She loved her Mamaw, but the woman was crotchety on a good day. It didn’t help matters that the lady had decided she was in charge of Esme’s education, no matter how much the girl protested that she didn’t need an education. Everything important to know would be learned through the work at the docks.

With a deep breath, Esme bent at the knees and heaved another heavy box off the ground. Carefully, she transported it onto the waiting ship. It was vital not only to be gentle with the box in case it contained something fragile, but also to be nimble enough to wind through the myriad of other people doing the exact same thing. There was only so much room on the plank, after all. Emily had drilled cargo bearer rules into her head over and over until she would sometimes wake reciting them.

This particular ship didn’t have too much to load, so the job only took a few hours. After it was done, Esme’s eyes instinctively sought out her mother. To say they were best friends was an understatement. The two were attached at the hip; Esme wasn’t sure they’d ever had a fight in her life. Being at the docks, where a majority of the workers were men and boys, had a protective streak rise up in Esme’s chest. Emily wasn’t afraid to put a few creeps in their place if they made off-color remarks or – Gods forbid – tried to touch her, but recently the foreman himself had been getting braver. Making advances or nasty eyes at her mother every time she passed. He was probably the only man on the island that Emily would put up with like that; this job was too important for her to cause a fuss and get sacked.

As if Esme had conjured the scenario out of thin air, her eyes landed on Emily caught in conversation by the foreman. She made her way over, striding purposefully, stopping only after slipping her hand into Emily’s.

“It was only an opinion, Em. You can’t possibly expect me to fire the guy over something you weren’t even meant to hear?” His voice was condescending enough to make Esme’s hackles raise instantly. She could only imagine how her mother must feel.

“No, but you could at least make sure we’re on separate jobs so I don’t have to hear his opinions the entire day.” Emily hissed through her teeth, grip tightening on her child’s hand. She’d hoped to get this over with before Esme could seek her out.

“You and Reed are two of the only adults I’ve got left. You’re both gonna be on the important jobs.” The foreman rolled his eyes. “I’m not entrusting a bunch of children to load millions of coppers worth of cargo.”

There was a brief pause, Emily obviously biting her tongue. A slight breeze kicked up off the sea, offering a bit of relief from the sun that beat down relentlessly. All around them, the hustle and bustle of workers moving boxes and trunks could be heard. More and more these days, the sounds of kids her age complaining or laughing was commonplace here. Esme wasn’t aware of the specifics since her mother refused to elaborate. You’re only a kid once. Don’t worry about politics until you absolutely have to, she always would say. But from what she understood, Mayor Ellis had cut funding for the export crews. Which meant employers were turning to children; there was no law against using them, and better yet there was no law saying you had to pay them.

Wordlessly, Emily turned to walk away, towing her child behind her. Esme could just hear the foreman mutter under his breath.

“Bitch is lucky I don’t slap that skinny ass red, causing me so much grief.”

Esme’s feet skidded to a stop, eyes raising to meet his in disgust. Emily herself had frozen, undoubtedly hearing the comment. The foreman was a fat older man, hands so soft you’d think he hadn’t worked a day in his life, but with bulging arms that said the opposite. He towered over Esme, but in that moment she wanted nothing more than to make him feel small.

1. “Your wife know you make those shitty remarks?” Esme couldn’t help the bitter undertone to her voice, nose scrunching to really drive home how gross she found him. [S]
2. Her eyes found her mother’s, beseeching her to do something. Not to let him get the last word. [D]
3. Rage churned in her gut. “Shut the fuck up.” The growl that accompanied the words couldn’t be helped. [A]

[if D] Emily reluctantly met her baby’s gaze, shaking her head minutely before they continued walking.

[if A] Emily admonished Esme quietly, levelling her own glare on the man before dragging her daughter away. “I know how you’re feeling, but I need this job. I can't risk getting fired.”

[if S] The foreman sneered at the child, leaning close enough that the smell of cigarettes and sweat wafted over her. “What was that? Thought I heard a little pipsqueak say something. Maybe I should punish her mother, hm? For failing to raise her kid with manners.” Before Esme could deliver her brittle retort, Emily was soothing the man and pulling her daughter away.

“One thing you’ll need to learn, no matter how much I wish you didn’t have to, is that women on this island must bite their tongues. Especially if it’s a man in power they’re dealing with.” Emily’s voice is rough as gravel, pitched low enough that nobody would overhear. The two of them walk hand in hand away from the docks, towards the women’s home. The buildings they passed were all grungy, falling apart, or abandoned. The docks district was the poorest on the whole island, but Esme had never known anything else. Had never even been to another district. To her, this was familiar. Home. Suddenly, her mother whipped towards her. “Don’t ever let a man crush your spirit, baby. Fuck them. Fuck them all. We only need each other.”

Esme grinned with a nod, the sentiment one she’d thought often. Other than Greta and Aunt Juliette, she didn’t particularly tolerate anyone else.

[if mostly S] The two of them were practically family, anyway, even if nobody came close to her affection for Mama.

[if mostly D] Well, lately Mamaw had been getting on her nerves. The old lady said she needed to start sticking up for herself more, that she was too polite. Esme reluctantly admitted to herself that she still loved the woman, though.

[if mostly A] Even if Aunt Juliette had been kind of avoiding her lately. Esme had heard her and Mamaw whispering late at night, when Mama was sleeping. Worried that she was becoming too bitter too young, that she had a cruel streak.

“I won’t, Mama.” She finally replied. Emily squeezed her in a hug despite it realistically being way too hot for any kind of physical contact.

“Good. Now, let’s get home. I think Greta wanted to go over another lesson with you.”

Emily laughed at Esme’s dramatic groan.

~Part 4~

Year 847

A blessed day of rain. Esme should be happy. Everyone should be ecstatic. But as she takes in her surroundings, all she can feel is remorse. She’d fucked everything up. A week ago, her and Emily had returned from the docks to find Greta in her bed. She’d passed away peacefully in her sleep. Not a bad way to die, all things considered, but Esme had had no experience with losing loved ones.

Looking back, she can admit she’d lost it. There was one girl in the women’s home who had always made life difficult, and Esme sought her out instantly. Started a fight so vicious that the two of them – Esme and her mother - had been kicked out without a second thought. That would’ve been bad enough if Emily hadn’t gone into work a few days later only to find they couldn’t afford to pay her anymore. The entire export industry, minus the foreman, were now teenagers and children. So the mayor could pocket the pay that would’ve gone to actual adults.

So now, without a job and without a place to stay, Esme and Emily had been floundering. Her mother was already the strongest person she knew, comforting Esme in her grief without a tear for her own. But as they sat in an abandoned wooden house just a road away from the ocean – there were so many abandoned homes in the docks district that squatters were almost as common as the fish in the sea – Emily seemed defeated. There was a slump to her shoulders that hadn’t been there a month ago, lines on her forehead that seemed to deepen by the day. Esme couldn’t remember the last full meal they’d eaten.

“I’m sorry, Mama.” She apologized for the umpteenth time. Emily automatically reached over, pulling her against her shoulder.

“No, baby, it’s not your fault. Just give me another week. I’ll figure this out.”

She had never been a particularly settled girl, but the past couple weeks seemed to build up a bottomless pit of anger in her gut. It churned and stewed inside her until nearly every waking moment was spent cursing Mayor Ellis. Because it wasn’t just their lives that had gone to shit. Esme had lived here her entire life. She could remember how the community had been when she’d been young, running around and playing with neighborhood children. Granted, it was still the poorest district. It had never been heaven.

But it hadn’t been this fucking desolate. Many adults had worked at the docks; now every one of them had been fired and forced into squatting. The less coppers people had, the more desperate they became, and the more willing to do whatever was needed to survive. Almost every abandoned building in the district was full to bursting of the homeless. And, if the nightly enforcer raids were any sign, the mayor loved it. The enforcers, with their thick wooden batons, never seemed to have any directives other than go and make some impoverished people more miserable. Esme might now know much of politics, but she knew that her district hadn’t been like this until Mayor Ellis found himself in office.

The groan of old wood disturbed Esme from her thoughts. Emily’s gaze shot up, landing on the two men who had just entered the room they were using as shelter. The rain outside pelted against the cheap roof as they all sized each other up. In one corner, there was already a male squatter. He’d been there as long as Emily and her child had, but he’d never said a word or attempted to make nice. In the opposite corner, a nearly comatose woman slept. She also hadn’t talked to anyone. The room was already too small, there was no way two more grown men would fit in these quarters comfortably.

But these new men had a different aura, carried themselves like they were looking for a fight. Without a word, one of them – the taller one, who looked younger and stronger – launched himself at Emily. Esme hadn’t even blinked before the older man was on her. She didn’t even know what they wanted. Shelter, money, sex, maybe even just something to hit. It didn’t matter.

1. She managed to kick her foot between the man’s legs before he could fully reach her. “You really think fighting is going to help either of us?” The snark in her tone didn’t seem to help the words register; he had recovered and grabbed her within moments. [S]
2. Esme held back her punches, recognizing that these were just desperate people. Like her and her mother. But she didn’t want to die, so she did her best to at least restrain the man. [D]
3. Esme unleashed herself, like a rabid animal. Taking out all her aggression on the willing victim. She clawed and punched and kicked without hesitation, reveling in the pained sounds he released. Sure, he was also getting hits in on her, but she couldn’t care fucking less. [A]

Five minutes later, the man stumbled back, breathing heavily. He must’ve been even older than Esme had originally thought; already, he seemed to be at his limit. Then he froze, his gaze locked on Emily. Esme followed his eyes only to feel every bone in her body lock up. Her mother was laying there, under the other man, blood everywhere. The older one cursed and took off like a jet, leaving Esme to stand there alone, chest heaving. The woman in the corner hadn’t moved a muscle, the man who’d already been here trembling and hiding his face.

“Mama?” Esme whispered, voice hoarse. Then, as if her body suddenly remembered it could move, she frantically fell to her knees and shoved the motherfucker off her mother. He was dead, his own knife shoved in his throat. Dread slammed over her as Esme cradled her mother, eyes taking in the myriad stab wounds over her stomach. “Mama?”

Emily didn’t respond, breath whistling as she struggled to inhale. Esme’s brain stopped working, a high-pitched ringing all she could hear. Her mother’s eyes opened, glazed as they struggled to focus on her. “My baby.”

Emily’s hand shakily found her daughter’s, clutching to it like it could save her. Esme’s vision blurred, tears making it hard to make out her mother’s face. The male in the corner was rocking back and forth, murmuring something over and over. His panicked voice was only adding to her own building despair. “Shut up!” Esme hissed through clenched teeth at him before returning her attention to the dying woman in her lap.

A shudder went through Esme as hands framed her face, the blood coating them slick and warm on her cheeks. “Listen, baby. I love you. This wasn’t because of you. This wasn’t because of those men. It’s the mayor’s fault. Understand?”

Emily swallowed thickly, eyes getting more dull by the second. For a brief moment, the only sound in that decrepit room was her lungs trying to retain air despite the bloody holes in them. “Esme. I love you, so much.”

Esme choked on a sob, hands covering her mother’s. “I love you, too, Mama.”

Emily smiled, opened her mouth to say something more, and went slack with one last wretched hiss of air.

The rest of the night was a blur, as if Esme’s mind had totally shut down. She sat there with Emily for hours, listening to the man’s chanting and the rain against the roof. Vaguely, she was aware of her own trembling fingers reaching onto the filthy floor and picking up a tiny shell. It had been a part of the bracelet Emily always wore; her mother had liked carrying around parts of the sea. The small shell fit perfectly in the very center of her palm.

After that, all Esme could remember was sprinting. Running aimlessly and sobbing like the devil himself was on her heels.

Meanwhile, deep in her subconscious, that black hole of hate and fury grew steadily wider.

~Part 5~

Year 857

She’s never been to Culvanis’ Quarter before. Vaguely, she wonders what the God of Fire thinks about the second poorest district being named after him. The parade seems never-ending; rows and rows of islanders marching down the cobblestones exuberantly as if they’re the ones who found a massive copper vein, and not the egotistical bastard being carried in a palanquin over them.

Esme’s hateful glare finds Ellis, his once handsome face now fattened by gluttony and greed. She takes deep breaths, shoves the anger into a tiny box and locks it. Like her master in the thieves guild taught her.

Ten years. She’d waited ten years for this kind of opportunity. Nothing would get in the way of what she had planned for the mayor today. Memories of her mother, of the reason why she’d sought out the seediest guild in existence, threatened to overwhelm her.

The sound of cheering in front of her pulled Esme out of her reverie. A dagger flicked through her fingers, round and round, a nervous tick she’d picked up a while back. Soon. Maybe thirty seconds from now, Mayor Ellis’ palanquin will line up perfectly with the alley Esme was lurking in. And then the past ten years – ten grueling years – will have all been worth it.

She hummed under her breath as she waited, the noise of the crowd drowning her out. Her other hand absently found the small shell around her neck, hanging from a leather string.

It was time.

One more breath, in and out. Razor sharp focus locked on the mayor, not a single guard in his retinue out of a stupid, false sense of security. Her dagger raises, the shot lined up perfectly. Esme allowed one sentence to slip from her lips, one minor distraction.

“This is for Emily Hawthorne, motherfucker.”

The dagger flew.

Chapter One

Year 877