In my defense, I didn't come up with the headline.

The others insisted that I did, every Sunday at the meeting, but I never did. I didn't believe in what the newspaper said, in how the words were strung along. I believed in the message.

We usually got arrested once every two weeks by unknown guards and taken to the prison to cool off for a few hours.

But when the King's men came after me, that time, I told the other members of the Brothers United to consider it our new record. We'd made sure people in power noticed us.

The full name was Brothers United Against Injustice but I've always found it terribly long and corny.

"So," one of the men told me while he was trying to tie my hands behind my back. "Any last words?"

"Yes," I panted, though I knew he was being insufferable on purpose. I would never be sent to death because of what a newspaper said.

King Abraham had his share of faults but this wasn't one.

"What did the headline say?" I asked.

The guard stopped what he was doing. "Don't be an imbecile, Jonathan Ducas. I know who you are. You wrote it."

I winced. "If you knew me, you'd know the Ducas do not let me use that name. And I'm repeating it now — what does the headline say?"

The guard almost hissed fire from his nostrils and started reciting. "The King wants us all dead! New problem arises with Creatures, the royal family is characteristically silent."

I might have wanted to handcuff the person who wrote a headline that long, too. It certainly didn't come from me. It must have been an idea of Paul, the self appointed leader who came up with the name of the brotherhood as well.

I wasn't even against the monarchy like the rest of them. I simply believed in a better Solima.

And I might have been just a bit too outspoken about it, since it was what had got me arrested.

I exploited the moment of calm before the storm to unleash my sword and I pointed the tip at the Guard's neck.

"Lower your sword," he said. "You're a Nefilim. You don't use it on people."

"I'm terribly sorry, but my sword is made of sardo," I replied. "It snaps in half if I don't use it to fight impurity."

The guard's words were true, in a way. I'd never used my weapon against people. It was one of those things that Nefilims swore. But I'd shown it, countless times, to men such as that one. If they really intended to fight me, then I wouldn't back down from a duel.

The most important thing was making sure I wouldn't scratch anyone so there could be no complaining. I began by using my sword to back the man up against the wall. He dropped the handcuffs, and started looking for his firearm.

I looked at the street behind me. Empty, with just a couple of distracted passers-by. The shops were closed at that hour of day.

That left me with a single idea in my mind, not a very brave one, but an ingenious one all the same.

I started running.

I had underestimated just how many people weren't awake yet that time of morning. There was a fork in the road, and when I took one of the two paths randomly, it was a very crowded street with market stalls. I recognized it as part of Old Solima, and likely the only active part of the city. The Ducas family mostly stuck to the center of Solima, where the rich people lived.

It had been years since I cared about what Athanasios Ducas said, but old habits die hard.

Trying not to crash into one of the market stalls, I shoved aside the man selling olives. He got angry at me and started yelling incoherently.

Luckily, the second man I stumbled into was kinder. He had a long and thin face with flame-red hair, and he looked at me with concern.

"Please," I said. I didn't usually beg, but this occasion was far from usual. "It's just the newspaper. The Independenţă."

"I've heard of it," the man surprised me by saying. I'd never seen him at any of our meetings or public speeches. "I was about to see the speech this morning."

Oh, he was one of the curious people that tried it as a one-time thing, then.

"There will be no speech today," I hurried to say. "I was arrested after my first two sentences. I thought it was my fault, but it was the headline, really."

When the guard arrived, panting, the redheaded man did not hand me back to the authorities. He said, "I can vouch for Jonathan. He's with me."

There was no question as to how the man knew my name — Paul insisted that, on every front page, there was a photograph of us with the names written under it. From left to right, Paul Haddad, Alexandra Borza and Jonathan Loreta.

Yes, the Brothers United should have been the Siblings United, really. When Paul came up with it, it was only me and him and we barely knew each other.

And yes. Despite our grandiose name, there were only three official members.

"But he is part of the brotherhood," the guard argued. "He was speaking in the square, earlier. We all know him well."

"Yes, you do. Which is why you'll believe me if I say Athanasios knows this man, and he's about to take me home. Athanasios will pay for my early release."

The man nodded along. Now, if the guard had really known Athanasios, he would have known I was not telling the truth. But I rarely lied, unless it was to wiggle out of uncomfortable situations, so my reputation was clear at least in that regard.

When the guard left us alone, the man introduced himself, "My name is Minx Morris," he said.

"Why did you help me out?" I wanted to know.

"It's a coincidence that I met you, considering that I've been interested in the brotherhood," Minx replied. "And I do not think the headline was exaggerated. I've noticed issues with the Creatures, too."

"All Nefilims have," I couldn't help but reply. I wasn't one of those who patrolled in groups, but the notion was not lost on me. Paul and Alexandra, the closest thing I had to friends, were not Nefilims. They'd just used my insight for the new headline, which is why it looked as if I'd fabricated it.

"But are they doing something about it?" Minx raised an eyebrow playfully. "Listen, why don't you join my friends and I for a cup of coffee? It's on me."

I'd never been to a seedy inn in Old Solima, but that didn't mean I wasn't thrilled about drinking a hot beverage with the man who'd just saved me. To tell the truth, I'd never even drank coffee in an inn before, but it was family owned and the couple used their own coffee beans. It turned out Minx' friends were two brothers, Roman and Atticus Sibian.

"So, Jonathan," Minx started out when the waitress left. She left us sugar, honey and cardamom to add to our coffees. "I know that you would like to study the matter of the Creatures further."

He took a copy of the Independenţă from inside of his jacket and threw it on the table. Atticus picked it up and started reading it.

"If what I assume is true," Minx added. "I can help you find a way to change the world."

"Mister..." I started saying. "It sounds like a very good proposition, but..."

"Take your time," Roman said, fixing his eyes on mine for the first time. "I laughed when he told me."

At that moment, a girl with brown skin and silky black hair joined us at the table.

"Aurora," she said, holding out her hand for me to shake. "I've overheard the conversation. We're all working with Minx Morris to find clues about the Creatures multiplying. And you would be...?"

"Jonathan Loreta," I replied. "You would have known it if you read the Independenţă."

Roman looked at the photograph. "This is owned by the Brothers United Against Injustice," he commented, taking a look at the front page. "But photographs are very expensive. Does this mean you're all rich?"

"Roman," Atticus hissed. Then he smiled, and he added more gently, "Please, don't be this way. Jonathan wants to help Minx and us."

"Where do we meet up, in case I join?" I asked. "I'm interested in this saving-the-world business."

"We have a place in the outskirts of Solima, an old warehouse, really," Minx replied with modesty. "I can't blame you if this makes you want to give the matter a second thought. You probably have somewhere to stay already."

It was the truth, but only partly. I lived with the Ducas. This didn't mean I thought of it like a place where one had to stay. I'd always thought of it as a permanent nuisance.

Would Athanasios be happy to see me go? He would have been mad at me if I left as a child. But lately he was becoming disinterested and disappointed with the way I acted.

"Anywhere where four other Nefilims already live, it's probably fine by me," I replied.

When I first met new people, I liked to take a look at them and understand a bit about their strengths and weaknesses. The way they moved could tell me how I could take them in a fight. The way they talked could tell me if I could trust them. In this case, however, it was simply a polite guess. Anyone who took to heart the matter of the Creatures was probably a Nefilim, who'd fought them and noticed how the situation had changed.

However, Roman said, "Damn. I'm not a Nefilim. Does that lower your standard?"

If there was malice in his tone, it wasn't directed entirely at me.

"What are you, then?" I asked. It was a stupid question.

"What do you mean with 'what'?" he bit back, a little amused. "I'm a Prophet."

I'd only met a Prophet once before, and very briefly. They were extremely rare. I couldn't believe I was having coffee with one of them.

Coffee in a shabby place without wallpapers on the slightly moldy wooden walls and with a waiter who'd put too much cardamom in my coffee, for my taste. But then I chided myself — of course the place was not the issue! I was sharing a drink with a Prophet. It would have blown my mind anywhere it happened.

I decided how I was going to play out my next sentences. "You know, this place does look like it belongs to Old Solima. Just the way I always imagined it."

This was so not how I wanted to play out my next sentence.

Roman looked at me sideways, then he said, "I thought you'd be wanting to ask me prophetic questions."

"Ah, right. Yes, about that. You see, I've always thought, when I was a child, that I would have liked to grow up to be a Prophet."

"It comes with a catch, you know," Roman said. "Just like becoming a Nefilim."

"When you're a Nefilim, it's somehow always more than you bargained for," I replied. "Let's just say that I like my duty to protect the city, but I'm not sure I'd say it's worth dying for."

Roman looked like he wanted to add something, but Minx paid for the coffee and we headed out. I heard Atticus telling Minx that he wanted to pay for his cup's, and Aurora's, but Minx insisted otherwise. But not before proclaiming that he was touched by the thought, and putting his hand on his heart, tapping lightly, like an actor of some minor production.

On the way to the warehouse, Roman and I spent some time asking each other questions. Well, I started it, and he went along with it.

"So, how do your powers work exactly?"

"It's hard to explain," Roman seemed to ponder. "But Prophets are able to contact the dead or beings from other dimensions."

"And those who ascend can do lots of other things," I added. "Like the famous story of the First Eve who could tell that a soul was trapped in a wall. My favorite. I wished I had that ability, you see, as a child. I try, with my own humble abilities, to read people when I meet them. I study them when I'm talking to them, but it takes some time and it's not infallible. It's in order to decide who to trust."

I cleared my throat. "It might have something to do with my Skill."

Roman's eyes looked a little wistful when he heard the word. "What's your Skill?"

"Knowledge. Ah, see, I mustn't completely dislike you. When I really dislike someone, I tell them my Skill is Courage."

"Why?" Roman looked puzzled.

"So that they're afraid of me, I imagine. Many rumors must have spread that way. And because it helps, when people don't know your true strengths and your true weaknesses."

"So what's your weakness?"

"Not so fast, Prophet," I tried to give him a wide smile. "I don't have any."

"Somehow I'm going to guess that this is one of the false ones," Roman replied, annoyed. He was playing around with a knife now. I recognized the urge. I, too, always touched the pommel of my sword when I was lost in thought.

"Well," I shrugged. "Somehow, nothing comes to mind. You're not threatening me, are you?" I asked, pointing at his knife.

Roman put it back. "It's me telling you I'm not your usual Prophet. I doubt the others own knives at all."

"So," I said. "Now I have to tell you something you've never known about Nefilims. Size matters."

Roman stopped in his tracks.

"In wingspan," I added. "I bet you'd never thought about what it was like to have wings before."

"Well, now I can't unthink it," Roman replied. I noticed why he'd stopped. It wasn't because of my words, not exactly.

The thing in front of us had to be the warehouse. I tried to tell myself that it didn't matter if it looked like a dump. It didn't, not really. I'd never even batted an eye when Minx asked me if I wanted to join their cause, because this was going to give me the chance I'd never had with the Ducas. The one I'd never had with Brothers United either.

It wasn't as much about saving the world as it was about protecting the people. It was not what I signed up for when I was turned, but I'd made it my duty and the only way of living I knew. It was the only thing that kept me up at night and made me eager to live each day.

And ever since the day the Creatures had decidedly increased in number, I'd made my decision. I would find a solution. I tried to use my Skill, Knowledge, many times during those weeks. And I never got a clear answer.

The warehouse had been already decorated with little to nothing by Minx and five rooms were set up as bedrooms. When I asked whether we were waiting for someone else, Minx let me know that his girlfriend Mira would join us.

Roman rolled his eyes so visibly that I had to ask him what was wrong.

"Every single thing you asked today was something I've already heard at least once," he explained.

"At least?" I wondered.

"Minx likes repeating himself," Roman said, looking at our leader with an intense gaze from his light blue eyes. It wasn't fondness, not quite, but there was warmth in it.

When we sat around the table — the only item in the room Minx called the living room — Aurora showed us a complicated drawing. It looked like a battle plan, or maybe it was because there were three figures fighting a Leviathan.

"The Leviathan is just a symbol, because I like drawing them," Aurora explained. "But it could be one of the other two — Behemoth or Fadua. And the people are just three because Jonathan hadn't joined us yet."

"Nice to see my usefulness carved out in stone," Roman replied. I wondered whether he'd be happier using his knives against Creatures. And then I told myself that, yes, possibly, it was so. Just who did he use his knives against?

But Roman was not a Nefilim and so his knives weren't made of the purified stones that all of our weapons were made of. Well, I'd known some Nefilims who used their own fists, and it was their body that had to go through a sort of baptism.

"This, anyway," Aurora added. "Is a way of showing you some strategies I came up with. Tonight we're patrolling and, if it's anything like the other nights, we will be unprepared."

"Unprepared is a strong word," Minx replied.

"I agree," I said. "If you're having the same difficulties I'm having, we need an extreme word. It might possibly involve swearing."

"I'm sure I can come up with it," Roman offered.

Aurora gave us both the side-eye. I internally congratulated her for the effort.

"Study this plan," she said. "And then we'll decide on what to do now that we have a new recruit."

I looked at the tidy, neat and small handwriting of Aurora. Cursive. My head felt a bit dizzy.

"Thank you for your plan, but I'm used to doing things on my own. And as such, I've learnt how to think quickly, on my feet. I'm not saying I never have a plan — I'm saying I always come up with it at the last minute when I take in all the details."

Aurora looked at Atticus for encouragement, but he simply nodded. Minx, who had left the room at some point of the conversation, came back.

"We better hope your method works, Jonathan!" he cried. "Tonight the Creatures showed up early. In Solima's square, there are already three Faduas and they're attacking a few boys who were out for dinner!"