As we step out of the bushes, and a breeze blows, we come across a place of mists and crumbling Shingle roofs. When I see where we are, my heart clenches, and I check the map.

We're by the sea, which we need to cross to get closer to Kadath, which will hopefully lead to the sunset city. And I might find out whatever the gods want. Want with the town. Want with me.

Fog rolls through the town. The streetlamps, high above are heads, seem to vibrate, and they're oddly shaped. I stand below one and look it over. Turns out, it's a blue, spiny fish with massive teeth and a glowing white orb attached to its head with a thin string.

My mouth hangs open. Maybe I should be creeped out, but it's hard for me to be scared of much. "Caramel, please explain to me how I never knew we lived this close to the Southern Sea."

"Mrow," she says.

I nod at her sage answer. "Makes sense." By us, Moggy snorts and mutters to himself.

I step on the cobblestones, which crunch with the valleys of sand that have swept on top of them.

The planks we cross are damp, and the water before us is the clearest teal I've ever seen, not that I can really remember less-clear teals. On the water, black galleys float by, and I see something glimmer in the bags the men carry--rubies. Maybe they're going to Dylath-Leen, which is also on the coast. At least, that's what the map says.

I look to the west, and I see tall, angular towers reaching the sky. They're crooked like the teeth of the things on the streetlamps, and the entire sea village smells of salt, smoke, and dead fish. A shuffling comes from one of the cottages, but all the windows in the place are dark.

I inch close to the nearest cottage and wipe away the fogginess on the window glass. I stare in, catching the back of a rocking chair.

Something moves, a shadow, and I jump back, heart in my throat. After a minute, nothing happens.

"Okay," I tell Caramel and Moggy, "let's head toward the city over there. They'll probably have a ship we can ride to get to Celephaïs."

As we travel, the light in the sky doesn't fade or heighten. It's all just a long murky stretch by the shimmering water, which is the strongest color. What trees we pass are no longer orange; the leaves are brown and brittles, snapping off and twirling in the wind, finding themselves in the water. But I don't see that many of them floating; it's like the sea swallowed them whole and didn't spit anything out.

Soon, we approach the city of Dylath-Leen, and I smell something heavier, like exhaust from a car. Something more fiery and metallic. The towers are made of dark basalt; the map shows volcanoes between here and Ngranek. Out of that black stone, there's a statue of a giant, uh, badger? On the water, claws reaching toward the sky.

"What is that?" I ask Caramel, pointing at the badger-thing.

"Mrah," she replies, tail up and curled.

"Oh, a mole. Right."

A tall lighthouse casts harsh light on the water. I can't help but gawk. Even when everything's foggy and rainy, it's weirdly beautiful. Some boats rock on the ocean, paddles swaying back and forth, but I don't see anyone in them.

I have the feeling we're being watched. Not by the people shuffling around on the street who cast a look at us every now and again, but by something above. I've felt that since we left Ulthar, a creeping chill in my spine.

As we go deeper into the city, people bustle around. Some wear red scarves over their mouths, while others have the bristling faces and curved beaks of ravens. A stray cat runs across a puddle half-covered in ruined newspapers. Chimneys belch out smoke from sea-taverns with orange lights burning inside.

Dylath-Leen has more people, but they whisper to themselves, no lively conversations or laughter. On both sides of us are market stalls with striped blue awnings. In one of them, a young woman with red, frizzy hair tied back with a scarlet scarf and a pipe in her mouth sits around a bunch of bottles.

"What's this?" I ask, approaching.

"Moon-wine. From the zoogs," she says.

"Can I buy some?" I don't want any for myself; I learned from listening to stories about Randolph Carter that moon-wine can help with getting people to say secrets.

She doesn't ask for an ID, good thing. "Yes, for five moon-bugs."

I scratch my nose and stick my hands in my pockets like everyone else is doing. "Moon-bugs?"

"Yes, from that fellow there." She points to Moggy, who's been holding that forest fungus like cotton candy. "There are some in there."

Moggy grumbles when he has to sacrifice his delicious, glowing moon-bugs, but he lets me hand them to the lady. I put the wine in my backpack and head for the docks. The black galley I saw before rests there, and pale men with long faces and wet, blue eyes walk around the wharf. No one says anything when we slip into the main deck of the ship, and when it takes off, I look over the wooden rail at the burning city, the wind in my hair.

***

Too Far to Forget by -dreamsinwords

Struggling to fulfil his mother's last wish and to hide his feelings for the cook caring for her, Sivanesan Dilin must overcome grief, loss, and doubt to find happiness and love again.

BioSynth by MonicaBGuerra

When a car accident reveals a shocking secret even he didn't know about himself, an android finds himself hunted by his own husband.