The Marked Hosts

Her lungs sang. Cold, sharp air. Bliss. A smooth sheet of deep blue ice stretched before them. Red streaked through the ocean. Hundreds of giant man-shaped ice statues protected the area. Immense animals, horses and dogs, stood frozen in action. Thousands of Brevia lived in those statues. It was a city within a city. The usual lights didn’t show through the tall figures. The noise was supposed to be almost deafening. The electric trams going from statue to statue were the worst. Their creak made her want to kill things. The residents said they gave the cities character. They could fix the trams. They never did.

Now, the cities were silent. She used to hate the garbage residents passed off as music. These Brevia loved to sing. Their voices were torture. Their festivals should be a crime punishable by beheading.

They were happy, carefree beings. Contessa found them insufferable. Why did she find the silence unbearable?

Asamee stepped away from her. He skated across the ice, laughing.

“I can breathe. My head feels…clean for the first time. Why would you leave this, Conta?”

Why indeed? She missed this. Cold cleaned. Heat killed. The human cities never became unbearably warm. The air was suffocating.