The words don’t make sense, not for someone walking through ground zero of an invisible explosion with shards of glass crunching under his feet. And he’s smiling—or, Calla thinks he is. It’s almost too dark to tell.

If this had happened only days earlier, Calla might’ve been unsettled, but not afraid. He’d been naive of this world’s rules, ones that inexplicably allow for the existence of Created meant to hunt and kill. But now, not even his fellow Created can be considered safe. And this one is closing in, still grinning with razor sharp focus.

Calla stays frozen for a moment longer. And then he makes to turn and bolt.