The Dark Realm Research Institute stood on the Empire’s eastern coast—in Tilberma—like a glass citadel pinned to the rim of a map.

The town itself shone like a jewel inlaid at the Empire’s edge, its engines and towers glittering, so people called it the Lighthouse of the Border.

From the small town where Hedi lived, a bus rumbled out like a beetle, then crossed a long stone bridge laid between the two cities like a spine.

December 2, 1886, a weekend, the date sat on the calendar like black frost pressed flat.

A hard snow came in the small hours like a thief, then quit at the rim of dawn like a ghost slipping behind a door.

The room held a heavy, wet cold like a sodden quilt, and the view outside felt strange, all earth buried under white breath.

Only a few thick clouds drifted above the northern blocks like gray rafts, their bellies dark and unwilling to shed more snow.

Take an umbrella before you go, Hedi said as she tied Selina’s scarf, her voice warm as steam. By the look of the sky, it may snow again.

Tilberma isn’t far; I’ll be back before the shadows move, Selina said, her smile light as a snowflake.

I hate my hair getting wet with snow, she added, eyes bright as wet ink. Don’t you hide under my umbrella if you don’t mind.

Selina hummed, soft as a cat curling by a stove.

Hedi’s mouth lifted like a crescent moon, and her gaze slid to the neatly folded doggie pajamas, her thoughts a blush rising like dawn.

After the night we set our bond, Selina often padded into my bed like a small wolf, but she refused to sleep clothed, which frayed my nerves like twine.

So I bought pajamas, a bandage of cotton over my fluster, the choice obvious as paw prints in fresh snow.

Animal-print pajamas made sense; she really is a little puppy, especially in how her energy sparks like sunlight on waves.

Your face is so red; you’re thinking something weird ag—Khh! Selina yelped as the scarf tightened like a snake, stealing one breath clean.

Tucked hands in her coat pockets, Hedi kept a cool mask like frost on glass, though her cheeks bloomed pink. See? You’re still alive and kicking.

You think about things and won’t let me say them, Selina said, her pout like a petal caught in wind.

If you know, no need to say it, Hedi answered, her words neat as folded paper.

But people say I talk more and think less—so is talking bad? Selina’s eyes flickered like candlelight.

It’s fine, Hedi said, the syllables falling like small stones.

What are you thinking? Selina asked, voice low as a tide.

Not anything weird, Hedi paused, then let the truth slip like a ribbon. I’m thinking of you.

Does that make you happy? Her question hovered like mist on a pond.

Mm, Hedi said, the sound a warm coal in the cold.

Just thinking already makes you happy? The words hopped like sparrows on a sill.

Thinking does, Hedi said, simple as a bell.

So you like me, right? Selina’s grin crested like a wave.

Hedi shook her head—don’t like—and drifted from the room like a leaf on a draft, too fast for Selina to catch.

She held the elevator and blocked the doors with one hand like a white hinge, waiting for Selina’s quick steps to close the gap.

Like me? Selina slid in and asked again, her breath a cloud as the doors sealed like eyelids.

Don’t like, Hedi said, face calm as winter water.

But you’re smiling, Selina said, that smile bright as tin under sun.

Smiling doesn’t mean liking, Hedi answered, voice cool as shade.

All right, Selina said, even and deliberate as tapping keys, puzzled because day Hedi and night Hedi felt like two seasons.

I like you very much, she added, words steady as a drumbeat.

You’ve grown blunt, Hedi said, the tease soft as snowfall.

You? Selina tilted her head, eyes big as moons.

You, Hedi corrected, her tone a gentle push like a breeze on a kite.

We’ve already done that kind of thing; what’s the point of being shy? Selina’s laugh skipped like pebbles on water.

No point at all, Hedi said, voice low as embers.

So I really like you, Selina repeated, the phrase looping like a ribbon.

Hedi stayed quiet, eyes on the button glowing like a firefly, listening to the elevator hum like a hive.

They left the elevator, and Hedi took Selina’s hand like catching a warm bird, then they boarded a bus and headed for Tilberma.

They crossed the stone bridge binding the two cities like a gray spine, and entered a coastal city standing at an industrial peak like iron mountains.

Yet all they saw was pale mist, more cloth than cloud, a light gray sheet you felt you could pinch up with two fingers.

Dull daylight struggled through the morning haze like watered milk, lighting wheel ruts and snow scars cut into the stone road.

Both sides of the street stood villas so lavish they felt theatrical, all painted pastels to converse with the sea’s deep blue like shells answering waves.

Hedi walked slowly, tasting the salt-wet wind like a sip of brine, imagining white spray leap when the sea slaps the dark reef.

A gull cried nearby, clear and keen as a trumpet, probably beating up from the beach toward open water with wings like knives.

You’ve never seen the sea, have you? Selina asked, her gaze bright as glass.

No, Hedi said, the word small and flat as a pebble.

I can be your guide, Selina offered, the promise bright as a pennant.

Before you came to my place, did you live at the Institute? Hedi asked, the question set down like a stone.

You ask that now? Selina’s laugh rang like wind chimes.

You know I think more, say less, Hedi said, the admission a shadow crossing snow.

Lived in the Research Institute, Selina answered, the words neat as a stamp.

A faint smile touched Hedi’s paper-thin face like ink seeping in. A familiar guide is a good thing.

I’m not like you; I don’t know every pretty corner, Selina said, her hands sketching the air like swallows.

If the fountain isn’t broken, it looks lovely, Hedi said, memory rippling like water.

Want to stroll around? Selina’s eyes glinted like coins.

We’re coming from the Research Institute, Hedi said, and kept walking, the sea’s rumble swelling like a drum under the earth.

She knew she was drawing closer, though no blue line cut the horizon; the absence felt like a curtain that refused to lift.

Before I crossed, I wanted to go, she thought, the feeling old as tide; after coming to this world, I don’t.

My sea lives in text and filtered video like painted waves; seeing the real one will miss my dream by a thousand miles like a boat off course.

That gap between fantasy and shore is a must-cross shoal, she thought, the truth rough as sand.

Like Selina’s talk of polished memory, bright as lacquer over wood.

Like how, after a few special nights, I still choke on the word like, guarding my big-sister facade like armor.

Want to see the sea? Selina’s offer sounded more like a plan, her tone clear as a bell. It’s beautiful.

If there’s time, Hedi said, the hedge light as fog; then added, We can take a look, the second half soft as a wave’s return.

I didn’t say that; we’ll see then, Selina countered, her mischief quick as a fish.

Afraid of the sea? I was scared the first time, she said, her honesty plain as wind.

Hedi dipped her head, and the sea filled her mind like a moving fresco: a few clean tufts of cloud hung like cotton.

The wind brushed by with that ocean reek like iron and salt, a taste on the tongue.

The surf hammered the breakwater like drums; spray lifted like shattered glass.

Look far and the world is nothing but blue, a true blue so deep your knees go weak like ropes turned to water, a fear-shiver rising.

The stink of tide and the bite of wind, every sensation came harsh and bright as a struck match.

Don’t be afraid, the sea won’t pull you in, Selina said, worried by Hedi’s silence, her promise held like a shield. I can protect you.

Then we’ll both get dragged in and sink to a bottom without air, Hedi said, the joke dry as driftwood.

It won’t, Selina said, her certainty firm as a pier.

It will, Hedi replied, her voice as calm as a flat bay.

Won’t, won’t! Selina shot back, quick and sharp as a gull’s cry.

Hedi laughed under her breath, a thick white plume leaving her lips like a little cloud. Your reactions are still such a joy.

Teasing me makes you happy? Selina asked, her glare fake as stage thunder.

Very, Hedi said, the word bright as a coin.

Happier than liking me? Selina leaned in, eyes shining like stars.

Hedi looked at Selina and swallowed a lot of words like stones; only four came out. Just as happy.

So you like me, right? Selina pressed, her smile curving like a bow.

Don’t like, Hedi sang back, light as sleet.

Snow began in Tilberma, a curtain of white falling in layered sheets like silk cut loose.

Hedi looked up at the spinning silver grains like millet, pulled her elegant winter coat tight like a second skin, and raised the umbrella over Selina.

It’s coming down harder; don’t let your hair get soaked, she said, her care soft as snowfall.