Dem followed Telo to the far edge of camp. A small tent sat isolated from the others. A graying middle-aged man sat in front of it, eating his midday meal. He looked up only briefly when they approached.
"Regis," Telo said. "Want to introduce you to Dem Swiftwind, Commander of the Sentry Force."
"I know who he is," Regis muttered, eyes dropping back to his bowl.
Telo shot Dem an apologetic glance. "Could we speak with Eltia?"
"She's inside. Good luck getting her to talk." Regis didn't look up again.
Telo stepped to the tent flap. "Eltia? We're coming in."
Inside, the air changed—dark, still, stripped of the warmth Dem had come to associate with tribal homes. The tent felt hollow, like a place frozen in time.
Eltia sat on a cushion. Her hair was white—unnaturally white for her age, like snow bleached by grief.
"Must have happened near the water," Dem said quietly.
Eltia flinched, her eyes lifting toward him. Something haunted lived there, something hollowed out years ago and never allowed to heal.
"Let's go," Dem murmured, guiding Telo back outside.
"Do you know where it happened?" he asked once they were clear.
"Yeah," Telo said. "I was a little younger than you are now. I'll show you."
He nodded politely to Regis, who answered with a grunt.
They climbed out of the basin and into the forested ridge, reaching a fast-moving river within minutes.
"Water's moving fast," Dem observed.
"Comes straight out of the mountains," Telo said. "We're upstream from a Red Fox rite of passage." His grin returned. "Only a few have beaten it. Myself for starters."
Dem ignored him. "Where does the river go?"
"To the rite, that's what I just—" Telo stopped, scowling. "You thought I was bragging randomly?"
"So… normal boasting," Dem said.
Telo snorted, conceding the point. Then his expression shifted. "How did you know it happened near water?"
"Eltia's beastkin is a sea turtle—one of the small species. First instinct is to find water." Dem looked at the current, his jaw tightening. "If someone shifted here, they'd have been swept away."
Telo grimaced. "Then you're really not going to like this."
"Don't tell me." Dem's eyes narrowed.
"Here it is," Telo said softly.
The river dropped away entirely—plunging in a hard, clean fall a hundred feet down into the bay.
"Shit," Dem breathed. "There's no way she survived that."
"What?" Telo blinked. "I've done it. The water's deep under the falls. It looks worse than it is."
"Why would you jump off that?" Dem stared at him.
"Rite of passage," Telo said, offended that this wasn't obvious. "I told you."
Dem sighed. "Do you remember the child's name?"
Telo tapped his chin. "Ternia? No—Tarania. Yeah. She was three, I think. Before her first inking."
Dem pictured it. "Alright. Tarania shifts… maybe her mother's distracted. She goes into the river."
Telo pointed to a well-worn trail. "Families come here for water every day. It's cold and pure. Easy for a mother to look away for a second."
Dem stared at the rushing water, then at the wide bay below.
"Damn…" Telo crouched, picked up a small stone, and tossed it over the cliff. "I was hoping we could do something."
"Well…" Dem's eyes narrowed, calculation replacing resignation. "I haven't given up yet."
Dem stripped down to his underclothes, tucking everything else into his storage ring. "I'm going over."
Telo blinked. "Just like that? Don't you have to— I don't know—build up to it?"
"No. You did it."
Dem took three steps and leapt off the cliff.
"What—?!" Telo rushed to the edge. "It took me two months to work up the nerve for that!"
Dem hit the water feet-first, vanishing in a plume of spray. A moment later he surfaced, waved, then slipped off his underclothes and stowed them away. With a clean breath, he dove again—this time shrinking mid-descent, body warping until a sleek black rat knifed into the depths.
From above, Telo watched the dark shape reappear… then disappear again. Minutes passed. Then longer minutes. The shadows stretched across the bay as the sun arced toward the western cliffs.
He was just about to jump in after him when the rat resurfaced—farther out this time. Then gone again.
And again.
And again.
Hours bled by.
"Hey," a familiar voice said behind him. "I was looking everywhere for you."
Telo's shoulders softened. "Yena. Did you hear about Lorn?"
Yena nodded. "Everyone's talking about it. That's—Telo, that's incredible. Where's Dem?"
"He jumped." Telo pointed to the bay.
"WHAT?" Yena rushed to the cliff's edge. "Telo, did you tell him about that stupid rite of passage?"
Telo lifted a hand defensively. "Okay—first, it's not stupid. And second, I didn't tell him to jump. We're looking for Tarania."
"Tarania?" Yena squinted toward the water, trying to follow his gesture.
"She went missing before Lorn," Telo explained. "Dem's been down there for a few hours now."
The last of the sun slipped lower, turning the waves gold and crimson. The black rat had not resurfaced in a long time.
Telo built a fire—partly to give Dem a reference point in the growing darkness, and partly to keep Yena from staring at him so intensely that he started to sweat.
They waited.
And waited.
At long last, Dem climbed up the steep rock face beside the falls, water running off him in thin rivulets. He could hear Telo and Yena bickering from halfway up the cliff.
"Who lit the fire?" Dem asked as he stepped into the light, wet hair hanging in his eyes.
"Dem!" Yena rushed him, throwing her arms around him. "Are you okay?"
Dem hid a smile, letting out a dramatic breath. "I thought I was going to die."
Telo's eyebrow shot up.
Yena whipped around and glared at her brother. "Did my dosu tell you to jump? I bet he did."
Dem nodded solemnly. "Yes. He dared me—said I couldn't call myself a man if I refused."
Telo's jaw dropped. "Huh? I didn't—what? I didn't say that!"
"I knew it!" Yena jabbed a finger at her dosu. "You never think! What if he hit the rocks? What if he drowned? Who's responsible then, Telo?"
Dem burst out laughing at Telo's horrified expression and raised both hands. "I'm teasing, Yena. I jumped because it was the fastest way down."
Yena narrowed her eyes. "Are you covering for him?"
Dem was halfway tempted to say yes just to watch Telo explode, but he held back. "No. How about you and I jump together tomorrow? Start a new rite—a test for new couples."
Yena froze.
Then blushed so hard her freckles vanished in the firelight. "F-for couples?"
Telo snorted. "There's no way my dasai would ever jump. She's told me a hundred times how stupid it is."
"I'll do it, Dem." Yena's smile was bright and confident. "Tomorrow then."
She kissed his cheek and hurried down the trail without speaking further.
Telo stared after her in stunned silence.
On the way back, Dem and Telo decided to stop by Regis and Eltia's tent. Telo noticed the cookfire was nothing but cold ash.
"Wait here," Dem said.
He approached the tent flap and paused. "Eltia. Regis."
"We've taken to bed, Swiftwind," Regis growled from inside.
Telo bristled at the bitterness in the man's voice, but held back.
Dem merely shrugged. "Sentry Force business. I'm coming in."
He pushed into the tent. A single candle guttered on a low table, but its small flame couldn't push back the gloom. Regis and Eltia sat on opposite cushions, turned away from one another, frozen in their own grief.
"Escadomai."
Red mist pulsed through the tent.
Regis shrank, a broad, heavy beaver wriggling free of his clothes—his flat tail smacked the floor in agitation.
Across from him, a small sea turtle finned helplessly in a tangle of fabric.
"I'll help her," Dem said, lifting Eltia gently out of the pile and setting her down.
Both beastkin stared up at him, their eyes too intelligent for their transformed bodies.
"Listen," Dem said. His voice softened, but there was an iron edge beneath it. "I can't say for certain… but I believe Tarania is somewhere in the bay. I spent the entire day searching. I didn't find her—but that's because the bay is enormous, and I don't know where sea turtles tend to linger."
They watched him, tails and fins stilling.
"I also have a theory." Dem crouched, meeting both sets of animal eyes. "Young children who share the same beastkin as their mother sometimes change before they're inked. It's not confirmed, but based on what I've seen? It fits."
The beaver's whiskers twitched. The turtle's small head retracted slightly, as if absorbing the words.
"You're both aquatics," Dem continued. "So tomorrow at dawn, meet me at the falls. And you're going to help me search."
His tone sharpened—not cruel, but piercing through their despair.
"Unless you'd rather stay in here and drown in your misery."
He stood, turning toward the exit. At the flap, he released their forms, red mist swirling as they shifted back, stunned and silent in their human shapes.
Then he stepped outside and let the night swallow him.