Vianh wasn’t tired at all.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Vianh had, in fact, been bleary-eyed for the better part of the day and almost face-planted into his broth during mealtime. His Issas – fathers – had tucked him into bed early, even read him the nesttime tale about the sarvi who was afraid of the dark, but sleep just didn’t come.
How could it? He was far too excited. And maybe a little scared.
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Tomorrow was the big day. A day like any other for most, but big for Vianh because he’d go to his new school, and – so his parents had promised – make new friends. He’d already met Pyoro, the rotund boy from the next cottage, and had already promised they’d sit together.
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Pyoro was nice, and playing together had been a hoot. He’d also only recently moved to Kyla and hadn’t wanted to come here either. So they had that in common.
Not that Vianh had any strong opinions about Kyla itself, but it seemed infinitely far away from his favourite people and places.
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Vianh clambered out of bed and tiptoed to the window, adjusting the blinds to look outside. That’s what his Issa-Levo had told him to do when he got sad. “Because we are”, he had said, “not so far away. Always underneath the same sun.”
Vianh searched the sky, but today, that sun was hiding behind a thick layer of clouds and the promise of a sky storm.
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He squinted his eyes as he scanned his new surroundings through the rain that pitter-pattered against the window. Fields of kelm-grain, little domes of woven reedstone, and a play ring he couldn’t make out, but knew to be there.
And then, in the far distance, he spotted the Gloaming and bristled ever so slightly. That was the dark strip of mist and shadow where the day always ended.
Behind it, he knew, was the Night Side. The side of Roscessa where the sun never shone – and where the nightlings lived. He pictured them exactly the way the books had shown, all fur and teeth and eyes that didn’t blink.
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Issa-Levo’s work had changed; that’s why they had moved here. And moving here was the reason he’d gotten Vianh the book about the little sarvi. So Vianh wouldn’t be scared.
It didn’t help, though.
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Vianh hugged himself pensively, then squinted his eyes some more, scrunched up his face, stared at the Gloaming, and sternly told it, “I’m not scared of you”.
He had meant his voice to peal forth like the thunder that was beginning to rumble above, and winced at how meekly his words emerged.
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As if in response, Gloaming seemed to come to life with little pinpricks of white, red, and blue. The little dots looked like the stars Vianh had only ever seen in books, and while they were faint at first, they quickly grew larger and brighter.

His heart stumbled, as if it had forgotten how to beat, and for a moment, as that uneasy feeling he was trying so hard to ignore soared like a fever.
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Then, the sirens sounded. A loud, howling noise that ebbed and flowed resonated in his bones and froze him to the spot.
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“Vianh!”
He could hardly hear his Issa’s voice, and couldn’t move until he felt him grip his arm tightly. He looked up. Issa-Vianla’s face was white, his eyes wide, his voice panicked and half an octave higher than usual.
“Don’t be scared. We’re going… going to play a game, okay? We’ll play our hiding game.”
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“I don’t want to play…” Vianh protested while his mind tried to catch up with what was happening.
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“I know, my raka, but this is important… I’ll hide with you,” Issa-Vianla promised, already more or less dragging Vianh out of the room and down the stairs into the family area, where Issa-Levo waited anxiously.
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“We’re safe. Everyone is safe,” he tried to reassure. For a second, Vianh almost believed him – until a loud bang outside rattled the house, and him to the bone.
Vianh only caught a glimpse outside, where the red and white, and blue lights were now close enough to see that they weren’t stars at all. They were shuttles.
The same kind his Issas used to get to and from work, but painted in odd colors and symbols.
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“Vianh,” Issa-Vianla said as he knelt down to him, “I need you to hide. Go into the storage room.”
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“No! Don’t leave me!” he jittered, tears flowing down his cheeks.
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“We have to help the others, but you’re completely safe.”
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Vianh reached for Issa-Vianla’s arm, but was scooted off towards the storage unit while his Issas headed out of the house, and onto the street.
Vianh wailed, screamed for him to come back, but the door remained closed. He had just made it to the storage unit, when….
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Krrrrshhhh!
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Vianh’s eyes widened, the tears freezing on his cheeks as the sharp crash of shattering glass cracked through the sound of sirens outside.
Then – footsteps. Heavy. Hurried. Uneven. They pounded down the stairs, coming closer and closer, until the sound was all Vianh could perceive, and his world seemed to shrink to the thin door in front of him.
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The steps stopped.
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Something was breathing out there. Wet. Ragged. Close.
Too close.
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Through the not entirely closed door, he caught a glimpse. Something big, wrapped in matted fur like a karhu with twisted horns, and empty eyes.

A nightling!
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Its claws reached for the door, and as hard as Vianh tried to slink into a crevice in the wall, there was nowhere to go. No way to disappear.
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The hinges groaned, and the door swung open.
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Vianh screamed, the sound tearing out of him before he could stop it, and sharp enough to make the creature flinch. He bolted past it, his heart racing, eyes fixed on the exit.
The creature released a growl that seemed to echo with the thunder above, and gave chase, barely missing a beat as it slipped like liquid past obstacles, accelerated, closed the distance between them, and tackled him to the floor.
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Vianh opened his mouth to scream again, but it was already there, clamping its paws over his mouth. Just that they weren’t paws. They were hands. Nightlings weren’t supposed to have hands.
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“Kun’naa xa’let… s’nu ai sattuta…“ the nightling said. Vian didn’t understand what it was saying, but it was saying something, and it was the same tone his Issas used to calm him down. Just the words were different.

The creature reached towards its face and … pulled. The fur shifted and peeled away. A mask. It had to be a mask, because underneath the monster looked like a person.
A woman, slim and gangly, with hollow cheeks and skin the color of ash. Her eyes were sunken, but not wild. Not monstrous. Just tired.
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And for a heartbeat, the part of his mind that could run or scream had gone quiet, and the only word it was giving him was…
“Hi.”
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The woman’s grip loosened, slow and deliberate as if expecting him to bolt the moment she let go. Vianh didn’t move. He didn’t want to be grabbed again, and his brain was still trying to figure out how to resolve the cognitive dissonance.
Her mouth twitched into something between a smile and a grimace. Then she took a step back and reached down for a bag Vianh hadn’t seen before. For a second, he was scared she’d stuff him into the bag and… and… eat him.
But instead, she turned back around to the storage unit, grabbed a few items, seemingly at random, and then hurried back up the stairs without another glance.
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Vianh stayed curled up, counting his breath. One. Two. Ten.
Until finally, the door cracked open again.
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“Vianh?” his Issa called out. “Thank the sun you’re alright!”
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He hugged him tightly.
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“The monster… it… It… was in here!”, Vianh cried, not comprehending that Issa-Vianla had gotten hurt.
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“In here?” his eyes widened.
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Vianh nodded. “It broke the window upstairs.”
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Issa-Levo and Issa-Vianla exchanged glances, like adults always did, and Issa-Vianla hurried upstairs. Weapons drawn.
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“Don’t hurt it!” Vianh heard himself say, though he didn’t really understand why, and the more he thought about it, the more he was helixing down and down the whys and hows he didn’t know how to ask.
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Issa-Levo hugged him again. Tightly. “I am so sorry.”
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“They… they look like us,” Vianh whispered.
The words tumbled out before he could even think to stop himself.
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“Look like us?” Issa-Levo asked.
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Vianh raised his shoulders in a little shiver. “I saw it. It wore a mask, and underneath was a woman and…”
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“Shhh…” he said soothingly. “It’s alright. You were very brave.”
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Vianh fell silent.
And it would be decades until he spoke about his encounter again.