Dawn broke over Stratus Haven in shades of iron gray. Helletta stirred in her makeshift hammock, a fishing net strung between two metal posts near the lower docks. The net swayed gently with the morning breeze, a motion that would have made most people seasick, but to her it felt like home. Almost.

  Three days now since she'd seen her master's shack. The tiny building would be dark, she knew, the windows empty. Even from here, even after so long away, she could sense his absence. The connection between master and student wasn't something she could explain—it was just there, like the pull of the tide or the weight of water.

  Her stomach growled, reminding her that dinner had been nothing but the steamed bun Ella bought her. Helletta untangled herself from the net, her movements practiced despite the awkward sleeping arrangement. The metal posts—part of some abandoned mooring equipment—creaked as she shifted her weight.

  Below her, the morning tide lapped at the dock pylons. The first fishing boats were already heading out, their crews quiet in the gray light. Some of them glanced her way, but none called out greetings. The story of her Servhal catch had marked her—the monster who fought sea beasts, now sleeping in the open like some wild thing.

  She stretched, working the stiffness from her limbs. Her clothes were salt-stiff and wrinkled, but that was nothing new. What bothered her was the emptiness at her back where her tools should have been—all lost with her stripped Helsuk. The thought of her master's boat, gutted and useless, made her chest tight with guilt.

  "Two more days," she muttered to herself. Two more days since she'd last checked the shack, hoping to find some sign of her master's return. But she knew, somehow, that he hadn't been there. Just as she knew he hadn't been there for longer than her own absence, though she couldn't say how she was so certain.

  The morning activity around her picked up as the sun climbed higher. Cargo was being unloaded from night fishing runs, crews shouting to each other across the docks. The upper levels of Stratus Haven caught the light first, gleaming like captured clouds while the lower docks remained in shadow.

  A commotion erupted nearby—someone's catch was fighting in their nets. Not unusual, except for the way the experienced crew was backing away, their faces pale in the early light.

  Helletta stood, squinting at the thrashing shape tangled in their lines. The net twisted and churned, water sluicing off something that gleamed like metal but moved like flesh. The crew's shouts took on a desperate edge as their catch threatened to break free.

  Her body moved before her mind could catch up, muscle memory from years of fishing driving her forward. This was what she knew—what she was good at. Maybe the only thing she was good at.

  Behind her, the empty shack waited in silence, its mysteries as deep as the waters below. But right now, there was work to be done. She could feel Stratus Haven waking up around her, its currents and tides pulling her into another day of survival, of searching for a path forward.

  She just wished she knew if her master was searching too, somewhere out there in the vastness of the southern seas.

  The creature in the nets wasn't large—nothing like the Servhal Helletta had fought—but it moved wrong. Its scales flickered between silver and black, and something about its thrashing seemed almost deliberate. The fishing crew backed further away as Helletta approached, their experienced eyes recognizing trouble when they saw it.

  "Corrupted fingerling," one of them muttered. "Better to cut the nets."

  Helletta's eyes scanned the dock, settling on a discarded needle and reel—common fisher's tools, though she'd never much cared for them before. Something stirred in her memory: her master's voice, teaching her forms she'd never understood the purpose of, movements that had seemed too precise for mere fishing.

  Without really thinking about why, she snatched up the needle.

  A familiar voice cut through the mounting tension. "Need a hand?"

  Ella stood at the edge of the dock, that same bright smile on her face. But before she could step forward, Helletta was already moving. The needle felt strange in her hand—familiar yet foreign, like a word on the tip of her tongue. The creature lunged, its sharp fins slicing through part of the net, and Helletta's body responded with movements she didn't know she knew.

  The needle flew from her hand with deadly precision, piercing the creature's writhing form. The attached thread pulled taut, and suddenly Helletta was flowing through forms that had nothing to do with fishing. These were hunter's movements—precise, lethal, and far too practiced for someone raised on a tiny pier.

  The watching crowd gasped. Even Ella's perpetual smile faltered for a moment, genuine surprise crossing her face.

  Helletta manipulated the reel with instinctive skill, using the thread's tension to control and direct the creature's movements. Each twist of her wrist, each adjustment of tension felt like remembering rather than learning. The beast thrashed and twisted, its corruption-touched scales leaving trails of dark water wherever they touched.

  "The scales," she heard herself saying, voice carrying an authority that surprised her. "Don't let them touch you." She adjusted her grip on the reel, compensating for the creature's struggles with a smooth confidence that felt both foreign and natural.

  The crowd grew larger, and fragments of their whispered conversations reached her: "Moving like a hunter..." "Where'd a fisher learn thread work like that?" "Did you see how she handled that needle?"

  Finally, with a series of movements that felt like dancing through someone else's memories, Helletta maneuvered her thread into a complex pattern that immobilized the creature completely. It was the kind of technique used by hunters who captured live specimens for noble houses—nothing like the rough, practical methods of fishing she'd grown up with.

  The creature, now secured, still writhed in its bonds. Its scales continued to shift between colors, a sure sign of corruption. Helletta kept her thread taut, suddenly very aware of the crowd's stares. Where had she learned to move like that?

  "Well," Ella's voice cut through her confusion, closer now. "I'd say that's enough of a show for one morning." Her smile was back, but there was something calculating in her eyes as she studied Helletta.

  The fishing crew approached cautiously to reclaim their nets, their earlier wariness now mixed with something like awe. Words were already spreading through the crowd, the story growing with each retelling. The monster who caught the Servhal was more than just strong—she moved like a hunter, fought like one too.

  Exactly as Ella had planned, Helletta realized. Though from the look on Ella's face, this particular development hadn't been part of the plan.

  The morning sun had fully risen, painting Stratus Haven's towers in gold, while below, the story of Helletta's hidden skills began to spread through the docks like wildfire. But she couldn't help wondering about what had just happened—those practiced movements, that expert control. For someone raised as a simple fisher, she had handled a hunter's weapon with suspicious familiarity.

  Just another mystery, she supposed, to add to the growing list of questions about her past. Questions that, somehow, she knew her absent master could answer.

  By midday, Stratus Haven's marketplace churned with more than just the usual haggling and trade. Stories traveled like schools of fish through the crowd, changing shape with each retelling. Helletta sat perched on a stack of empty crates, half-hidden in the shadow of a vendor's awning, listening to her own legend grow.

  "Moved like water, they say," a dried-fish seller told his customers. "Not like any fisher I've ever seen. More like one of them hunters from the noble houses." He leaned in closer, voice dropping. "Makes you wonder where a dock girl learns things like that."

  "Heard she was raised by the old man at the far end," another vendor chimed in. "One of them wandering types, you know? The ones who perches on his sail for months at a time."

  Ella appeared at Helletta's side, two skewers of grilled fish in hand. She passed one over, settling down with practiced casualness. "They're eating it up," she said quietly, satisfaction clear in her voice. "Though I have to admit, that little display with the needle was... unexpected."

  Above them, a Serkull wheeled past, its shadow drawing nervous glances from the crowd. The bird banked sharply, circling once before landing on a nearby roof. Its beady eyes fixed on their position with unnerving focus.

  "We're being watched," Helletta muttered, but Ella just smiled.

  "Good. That's exactly what we want." She took a delicate bite of her fish. "Every Serkull in Remarn's flock is an extra pair of eyes. By sunset, he'll know all about the monster who fights like a noble's hunter."

  The crowd parted suddenly as a group of rough-looking men pushed through. They wore the loose clothes of dock workers, but their movements were too purposeful, too coordinated. Each had a Serkull's feather tucked into their headband—Remarn's mark.

  "See those two?" Ella whispered, nodding toward the back of the group. "The ones trying not to look interested? They're scouts. They find new talent for the gang."

  Sure enough, the two men she'd pointed out were carefully not looking their way, though their path through the market kept them close enough to overhear the ongoing conversations about the morning's events.

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  "Fresh catch!" a vendor called out nearby. "Straight from the morning boats!" She lowered her voice as customers gathered. "Speaking of the morning boats—you hear about that corrupted thing they pulled up? The monster girl caught it with a needle, clean as any hunter. My cousin's friend saw the whole thing..."

  The story spiraled outward, gaining new details with each telling. Some said the creature had been twice the size of a man. Others swore it had tried to drag the whole dock into the sea. A few even claimed Helletta had commanded it with some secret art taught by her mysterious master.

  "Interesting," Ella mused, watching the scouts disappear into the crowd. "They're more curious than I expected. Usually takes longer to get their attention."

  "Is that good?" Helletta asked around a mouthful of fish.

  "Could be. Though..." Ella's ever-present smile dimmed slightly. "Something feels off. They're too interested, too soon." She shook her head, brightness returning to her expression. "Still, we work with what we have. Ready for the next part?"

  "There's a next part?"

  "Of course. Stories are good, but actions..." Ella stood, brushing off her clothes with precise movements. "Actions make the stories real. Come on. Time to give them something new to whisper about."

  She started into the crowd, and Helletta followed, noticing how the press of people shifted around them—giving space not just to her now, but to them both. Above, the Serkull launched from its perch, winging away toward Quartersquare Market. Bringing word to its master, no doubt, about the monster who moved like a hunter and the girl who seemed to be guiding her path.

  Helletta wondered, not for the first time, if her absent master would approve of any of this. But then again, he was the one who'd taught her those hunter's forms, wasn't he? Even if she couldn't remember learning them.

  Just another question to add to the growing list of mysteries surrounding her life.

  Evening crept across Stratus Haven, painting long shadows between the market stalls. Helletta and Ella sat at an open-air food stall, empty bowls stacked between them—evidence of Helletta's endless appetite. The vendor kept glancing their way nervously, especially when Helletta reached for her sixth serving.

  "They're coming," Ella said quietly, her eyes fixed on her own barely-touched bowl. "Three of them. Try to look... well, just be yourself."

  Helletta was about to ask what that meant when heavy footsteps approached their table. Three men loomed over them, each wearing a Serkull feather in their headband. The leader, a scarred man with salt-bleached hair, planted his hands on their table.

  "You the one they're talking about?" he demanded, eyes fixed on Helletta. "The monster who fights like a hunter?"

  Helletta slurped up another mouthful of noodles. "Depends who's asking."

  The man's face darkened, but before he could speak, one of his companions grabbed his shoulder. "Easy," the second man said. "Remember what the boss said." He turned to Helletta, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "We represent certain... interests in Quartersquare. Heard you might be looking for work."

  "Not really," Helletta said, reaching for another bowl. "Just hungry."

  Ella kicked her under the table.

  The third man stepped forward. Unlike his companions, he carried himself with the precise balance of a trained fighter. A needle and reel hung at his hip—similar to the one Helletta had used that morning. "Prove it," he said simply.

  "Prove what?"

  "Prove you're what they say. Fight me." He patted the needle at his side. "Show us those hunter's moves everyone's talking about."

  The food vendor ducked behind his counter. Other customers quickly found reasons to be elsewhere. Even the usual market noise seemed to dim, as if the whole area was holding its breath.

  Helletta set down her bowl. "Don't have a needle."

  The man unclipped a second needle from his belt and tossed it to her. She caught it instinctively, the weapon feeling both strange and familiar in her grip. The attached thread gleamed in the fading light.

  "Now you do."

  Ella's hand brushed Helletta's arm as she stood up. "Be careful," she whispered. "But not too careful. They need to see—"

  Whatever else she was going to say was cut off as the man attacked. His needle flashed through the air, thread trailing like silver lightning. Helletta moved without thinking, her body flowing through those same mysterious forms from the morning. Their threads tangled and separated, a deadly dance of gleaming lines.

  The man was good—obviously trained in proper hunting techniques. But Helletta's movements came from somewhere deeper, something half-remembered and instinctive. She fought like water, like wind, like something untamed. When he tried to trap her thread, she slipped free. When he pressed forward, she flowed around his attacks.

  The fight drew a crowd, their whispers carrying through the evening air: "Never seen anything like it..." "Where'd she learn to move like that?" "Not just strong—she's dangerous..."

  It ended suddenly. The man lunged forward, overextending, and Helletta's thread wrapped around his needle in a complex pattern she didn't remember learning. With a twist of her wrist, she sent his weapon clattering across the stones.

  Silence fell. The man stared at his empty hand, then at Helletta, something like respect crossing his face. He retrieved his needle and turned to his companions. A silent conversation passed between them.

  The scarred leader stepped forward again. "Remarn might want to meet you," he said gruffly. "Both of you," he added, glancing at Ella. "Tomorrow. Quartersquare. Noon."

  They melted back into the crowd, leaving Helletta standing with the borrowed needle still in her hand. The market noise slowly returned to normal, but now there was an edge to it—a new story beginning to spread.

  "Perfect," Ella breathed, appearing at Helletta's side. "Though next time, try not to show quite so much skill. We want them interested, not scared."

  "I don't even know where that came from," Helletta admitted, staring at the needle. "It's like... like my body remembers things my mind doesn't."

  Ella's usual smile faltered for just a moment. "Yes," she said quietly. "I noticed that." She took the needle from Helletta's hand, her movements careful. "Come on. We should prepare for tomorrow."

  As they walked away, a Serkull launched from a nearby roof, winging its way toward Quartersquare. Above them, Stratus Heaven's towers caught the last light of day, while below, shadows gathered in the narrow streets—shadows that seemed to hold more mysteries with each passing hour.

  Helletta thought of her master again, wondering what other secrets he'd left buried in her memory. But those thoughts would have to wait. Tomorrow they would meet Remarn, and somehow, she knew that would bring its own share of revelations.

  She just hoped they were ready for whatever they might learn.

  Night settled over Stratus Haven like a dark tide, bringing with it the peculiar quiet that came when the evening market wound down. Helletta sat with her legs dangling over the edge of an abandoned loading platform, watching lights flicker across the water below. The platform creaked occasionally, its ancient wood protesting even her slight movements.

  Her borrowed needle lay beside her, its thread catching what little moonlight filtered through the city's towers. She'd meant to return it, but in the chaos after the fight, its owner had disappeared.

  "You should keep it," Ella's voice came from behind her. "Consider it part of your new image."

  Helletta didn't turn. "Didn't hear you coming."

  "That's kind of the point." Ella settled down beside her, though not too close. Despite the day's successes, she maintained that careful distance she always kept. "Interesting day."

  Below them, a night fishing crew prepared their boat, their voices carrying across the water. The methodical work of checking nets and lines was familiar enough to make Helletta's chest ache. Two days since she'd lost her Helsuk. Three since she'd seen her master's shack.

  "Do you think he's watching?" Helletta asked suddenly.

  "Who?"

  "Remarn. Through his birds."

  As if in answer, a Serkull's cry pierced the night. Ella's smile widened slightly. "Oh, definitely. Those birds have been following us since the fight. He's curious about you—about us."

  "About how I fight like a hunter?"

  "Among other things." Ella pulled something from her satchel—a small package wrapped in worn cloth. The smell of food drifted out as she unwrapped it. "Hungry?"

  "Always." Helletta took the offered portion, noticing how even this simple act of sharing food was carefully measured on Ella's part. "You knew, didn't you? That they'd challenge me?"

  "I suspected they might." Ella picked at her own food with delicate precision. "Remarn likes to test potential recruits. Though I didn't expect..." She paused, choosing her words carefully. "Your fighting style was unexpected."

  "You mean you didn't plan it?"

  "I plan a lot of things, Helletta. But that?" She gestured at the needle. "That was all you. Which makes me wonder..."

  She left the thought unfinished, but Helletta could feel the weight of unasked questions hanging between them. The same questions that had been nagging at her all day. Where had those movements come from? What else had her master taught her that she couldn't quite remember?

  "Tomorrow will be dangerous," Ella said finally. "Remarn isn't just some thug with trained birds. He's built something bigger in Quartersquare—something organized. And we'll be walking right into the heart of it."

  "Having second thoughts?"

  "Me?" That bright smile flashed in the darkness. "Never. But you should. Anyone sane would."

  Helletta snorted. "Good thing I'm not sane then. Everyone keeps calling me a monster, remember?"

  "Yes," Ella said softly. "They do." She stood, brushing off her clothes with those same precise movements. "Get some rest. Tomorrow we meet the man who turned a market into a fortress with nothing but birds and fear."

  She turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, and Helletta? Try not to sleep in that net again. I know a place—safer, drier. No questions asked."

  "Why do you care where I sleep?"

  "I don't." Ella's voice was light, but something flickered across her face. "But my plans work better when my partner isn't half-drowned from morning dew." She rattled off directions to what sounded like a boarding house, then melted into the shadows before Helletta could respond.

  Alone again, Helletta picked up the needle, letting its thread run through her fingers. The weapon felt right in her hand, though she still couldn't explain why. Just like she couldn't explain how she knew her master wasn't home, or where those hunter's movements had come from, or why certain memories felt just out of reach.

  Above her, Stratus Haven's towers vanished into the night sky, their peaks lost in darkness. Somewhere up there, Remarn's Serkulls nested, watching everything below with their sharp eyes. And tomorrow, she and Ella would walk into their master's domain, carrying all their questions and secrets with them.

  The night fishing crew cast off, their boat sliding into darkness. Helletta watched them go, feeling the weight of the needle in her hand and the weight of tomorrow's meeting in her mind. Strange, she thought, how a simple job to earn some coin had turned into... whatever this was becoming.

  But then again, nothing about her life had ever been simple. She was starting to suspect it never would be.

  The moon caught the needle's thread one last time, making it shine like a silver line leading into shadow. Tomorrow would bring what it brought. For now, she had a warm meal in her stomach, a weapon that felt like an old friend in her hand, and a partner who was probably lying about everything except what mattered.

  It wasn't much, but it was more than she'd had yesterday. Sometimes, she supposed, that had to be enough.