The stench of fish is stronger today than I remember it being yesterday. Every morning starts this way, with a bucket of mostly unmoving fish and a few attempting to find water to avoid final breaths. Herring, salmon, and cod. So far, at least. There's no telling how the rest of the day will turn out, what the ships will bring in during the afternoon hours.

Some days are more productive than others. The mornings start out slow and only a few baskets of fish slump onto my worktable from either a guard or a lazy fisherman. They're never in the mood for handing out instruction. All they do is catch the fish; not clean it.

That is my job. As it has been for years now.

I grip the fillet knife tightly in one hand as the sun rises to the east. We can't arrive later than the sun is in the sky, we must clock in for work before the orb of light and day clears the eastern mountains too far for any of us to reach. The docks have advanced beyond the point of a few cleaning tables under the sun—canopies and offices for foreman have slowly risen over the years, despite many trials, and now I have a comfortable spot in the shade. The perks of arriving earlier than most.

The more hours I put in, the more money I make. Measly coins that aren't enough to pay for Castiel's potions in full, but to contribute.

I reach into the woven basket of fish and hook my fingers around the lips of the first one I find. The foreman says it's bad luck to pick a live fish on the first cleaning, but I've never been superstitious. I'll save that to the fishermen that believe having a woman on board their ship makes for bad luck.

Whether dead or alive, the fish doesn't have its head for long. The moss-colored body of the cod slaps onto my wooden work table and my hand folds comfortably around the handle of the cleaver knife. I've done this too many times to wait around for another second.

The shouts of fishermen disappear, the clanking of bells from the nearby church tower dwindles into a dull roar, and the clunk of boots and buckets against the wooden docks doesn't disturb me in the slightest. I've learned to block out the rest of the world around me with a few hitches. Always be on the lookout for guards.

One slam of the cleaver knife onto the table and the fish's head severs from its body. I slide it off the table and into the empty bucket waiting on the floor. My movements go by themselves, at this point. "Here's to another day," I grumble as blood splatters onto my white apron. So much for keeping myself clean. Is anyone ever clean at the docks?

The gulls squawk on the tiled roofs of the foreman offices while overseeing the cleaning operation. Few of us are here so early in the morning, and I have yet to spot Chaska in the fray. Ever since we were little, she had trouble rising from her bed. Now, it's even worse. Though she lives in the shed next to our cottage, she can't get up in time for me to leave at a respectable time. Unlike her, I cannot stand as tall against foreman Ocanthio Cinnius. They could be kin—the same dark skin and similar protruding eyes of varying shades of autumn.

The first fish of the day is always the hardest. Luckily for me, the skin comes off easily with a simple sway of my filleting knife against the meat. I've become one of the best cleaners; the fishermen bring their buckets to my table even if I have a full load with gulls picking at the eyes of the squirming, slimy fish. I don't get paid for extra fish, only long and gruesome hours.

I haven't noticed the blisters on my palms in years. They're forever there but I block the pain by distracting myself with one fish after another.

Once each fish is cleaned, the skin removed and the meat clean; I drop the remnants of their bodies back to where they came. In a bucket of cold, salted water. The merchants and travelers, salesman of all kinds, will ship them to different corners of the kingdom. Particularly the capital, where most of our hard work goes. To the royal family—the Raven Queen and her four children. All adopted, as she likes to call it.

The land knows the secrets of stealing them from their families.

The farm territory prides itself on the fish it generates along with fresh fruits and vegetables. Out of all the territories in the land, we're the most productive. Also, the least cared for and appreciated. The travel is far, and usually reached by way of using the capital as a shortcut, but a large portion of my hard work goes to Hegemonize. A territory of rich governing officials that work closely with the Raven Queen. A city overrun with people, buildings, and control. I hope to never visit.

A sword leaving its sheath draws my attention and I snap my stare forward, to a pair of guards examining their blades. A gadigator, a beast with the snout and scales of a gator and the body of a man, holds out his blade into the sunlight and allows his partner to take a gander. He snaps the weapon away when a grimy hand reaches to run along the silver.

I snort quietly and duck my head down once more. They're of no harm.

Their hunts for Luminaries have calmed down over recent months. The Raven Queen believes most of us have been found from her sister's visit, but I wouldn't know. I only recognize what I see; fewer bodies in the streets and less rumors of another Luminary found. They always accompany the rumor with one consideration. I thought they caught them all already.

I am living proof of why that is wrong. There are still Luminaries living with beating hearts in their chests, despite the Void Queen piercing a needle through them with her all-powerful magic. Now I am just like her; her magia as she so affectionately put it all those years ago. Three years it has been since that fateful night.

My brother took his last steps. My parents took their last breaths.

I found their bodies the next morning. Two streets over, slumped against the side of a stone building, their hands together and blood staining their clothes. Their heads hung against their shoulders in mourning, lips pale and eyes empty. The army of the soulless killed them because they were too old and not expendable enough. The rest of us, on the other hand, we'll never be the same.

No one deserves the blame but the Void Queen. She did this to me—to many of us. Turned us into Luminaries without granting us a choice of our own. There's no telling what the magic will do to our bodies before it is granted, Wyetta took great risk in killing some of us and giving others too much power. Unlike others, I received the ability to take on a second form. My true form, as I've come to see it.

"What a surprise, you're here before me."

I look up from the salmon on my table, still wiggling, and spot Chaska approaching the empty table next to my own. A large chip cuts through the middle from too many slams of a knife, but she doesn't care. Her leather satchel slouches to the floor and she kicks it under the table. Unfortunately, it'll still reek of fish guts by the time we're done with the day. Nothing is out of harm's way.

"I wake with the sun, you know that," I respond. Without looking, I chop off the fish's head. The slimy body slithering around on my table stops moving. "Besides, you have to arrive early to receive a good spot. Would you rather stand in the sun near the boats? Listening to the fishermen comment on your shape is as unflattering as wearing a sheet."

She arches a dark brow. "Depends on how you wear the sheet."

I scoff at her boldness and shake my head. The words that leave her lips are not my specialty. Chaska knows how to weasel her way out of trouble and how to make herself look good doing it. I've fallen into a different category. Cowering against anyone that turns in my direction, even if they're smaller and weaker. I cannot bring myself to that strength and because of it, the fishermen take out their verbal anger on the only one that doesn't fight against it. Me.

The other cleaners at the docks aren't meant to be pushovers. They're hardly short of knife-wielders and make that known when the fishermen spit on their boots or throw a crude insult their way. The brash women of Gudgeon Docks are the worst of them all. We aren't afraid to slice off fingers if they come too close to our skirts.

"Did you see the recent visit from the Panjandrum Corps?" I hear the gadigator guard ask his partner.

The other, a sinwolf, shakes his head. His dog-like nose connects to a flat, wrinkled forehead. "Those fools came to the docks?"

"Not the docks." The sword returns to its sheath with one final wave to the sunlight. "One of the northern villages. Rounded up three Luminaries. Three. Turns out they fled there to hide from the Raven Queen." He chuckles at a non-amusing situation. I slow my movements to listen for their fates. "Turns out, they didn't live long enough to enact the powers they feared."

The sinwolf spits onto the wooden dock. His grey fur, tipping to a point at the base of his hairline and in the middle of his forehead, is combed into tufts.

Chaska and I share a common, fearful glance. If the Panjandrum Corps, the Luminary hunters, are coming closer and closer to the docks, it's possible we don't stand a chance. I wasn't the only one to fall at the Void Queen's hand that night. Chaska did, too. The only thing saving us is avoiding the use of our powers out in the open.

The Raven Queen would take our heads if she knew.

"That's three less we have to look for," the sinwolf grumbles.

Chaska bends down to pick up her bucket off the floor, tight ringlets of burgundy draping off her shoulder and towards the ground. When she stands fully, they drape against her thin waist like a curtain.

I drown out the rest of the guards' conversation. The more I listen, the more sickened I become. The Void Queen turned us into Luminaries, not for her own benefit, but to scare her sister, our true queen, into believing she had been overpowered. As a result, the Luminaries transformed into such had to die.

I remember the raids. The Luminaries still understanding their abilities. They had to defend themselves but eventually lost to the Panjandrum Corps. Led by one of the Raven Queen's sons. A shiver wraps around my spine and I press myself further against the table to deeper dive into my work.

As the hour passes, more fish cleaners take their positions. The gulls move in closer to catch guts and skin, the fishermen take to the waters or return from a night of harvest. Either way, they're grumpy and eager for ale and a fight. The guards maintain their posts in the shade, standing frightfully close, but they don't bother me. They don't know what I am and what power hides underneath my skin.

I can pull the lever to take on my true form, but I won't. The thought of doing so frightens me, how easy it is to access the power originating from my heart and branching out like a tree in autumn. Bare and barely clinging to life.

If I show that side of myself to the guards, I'll die. They're in charge of killing Luminaries if the Panjandrum Corps can't hunt them down first.

Chaska shuffles over to my table and takes a squirming fish from the third bucket brought to me this early in the morning. I won't be out of here until the afternoon, and this isn't the last of the load. The fishermen keep coming with fresh fish to offer to the kingdom. They don't receive the pay they believe is deserving, and neither do I.

"So I've been thinking," she begins in a hushed tone. She slams her knife against my table and the fish is the only thing sitting on the surface that doesn't shake. I toss a fillet of skin aside and the gulls swarm, their wings wide and beaks open to secure against others. "It has been a while since we trained together."

"Is it the proximity of the guards that makes you so daring to speak about this?" I hush. My voice quivers, but my hands remain steady. "If you're trying to get us killed—"

"We've been here for years, Marie. They suspect nothing of us."

That's not what I believe. The guards suspect everyone; the orders given to them by the Raven Queen are simply put. Don't trust anyone, believe they're all Luminaries hiding in normal form. Though their focus has dwindled over the past year, they're still on high alert. Especially when the Panjandrum Corps comes near.

"Anyway, I've been practicing my abilities," Chaska goes on. I grind my teeth together to avoid wincing outright. The guards don't take offense to us working so close together, but they'll notice if we're whispering to each other. The kingdom should know our secrets, they say. "Particularly bringing inanimate objects to life. A wooden doll, a clay horse. It's incredible, really. I wish to show you, but only if you're up for practicing. The last thing I want is to have you sit there, constantly glancing towards the window in fear of a guard peeking his head through the glass."

I slam my knife down harder onto a fish's head, hoping she gets the hint that this isn't a good idea. "One of us has to be careful. If not you, then me. Our queen knows we're still out here; the Panjandrum Corps is catching Luminaries left and right, and if we're not careful, we'll be next."

"Do either of us ever make a display of what that rotten woman turned us into?" Chaska leans in close, bending at the waist so we're at the same eye level. Not the first person, and definitely not the last. I shake my head. "No, we don't. We've always practiced in secret, and it'll remain that way. Besides, the longer you board up your power, the harder it'll become to control."

I cannot argue with anything she says. Still, accessing that part of me, foreign and untrained, makes my stomach churn with hot vomit. Maybe it's the fish or autumn's arrival, but my mind is not clear. Chaska's desire to train adds to the pile of tasks I don't wish to accomplish today. If we're not careful, that means our lives are over. The Raven Queen will take another two Luminaries without blinking an eye.

I remove my stare to blink away the burn of staring at fish scales all morning. Chaska's broad, rectangle nose and chestnut eyes are a welcome sight compared to the dull browns and greys of the many fish that have come and gone to my table. The rest of the cleaners are not so diligent.

The gulls peck dangerously close to my boots, but I ignore their presence. The guards laugh together, something about the rump of a voluptuous woman, and I notice a third voice has joined the bunch. The scowl involuntarily crawling onto my face does not hide my ire towards who monitors—and acts like he owns—the docks.

Chaska goes back to her table without another word. Eligius would make her go, anyway. Out of all the guards, he hates whispering the most. Though he possesses the title of a lowly sentinel, Eligius believes himself to be more than that. Always has been, since the day he started. Ever since then, he's made it his goal to make others believe he is above them in every way.

Like the other sinwolf guard, Eligius's hair peaks down the middle of his forehead. The bronze strands slick back but raise in volume to resemble a wolf on the prowl. His kind's nature. I can't bear to look into his round amber eyes, nor the flat nose sloping from his forehead.

His hands fold behind his back and he purposely cranes his covered neck over the tables to squint at the foul work of the fish cleaners. Our job is spotless enough, but never to Eligius's standards. I can't count how many times he has dumped a saltwater bucket of cleaned fish back into the ocean once he claimed they weren't good enough. It's not just us that hates him, but the fishermen too.

No one fights the watches or stands against them. Their word holds sway with our queen and lowly cleaners or fishermen have the value of dirt underneath her boots.

His skin, the shade of sand his boots scrape over, is interrupted by a dark, misshaped beard on the bottom half of his face. Except for the fur on the tips of his pointed ears and the retractable claws, there's nothing else I hate more. The foolish grooming of a sinwolf, the thick hair and unruly fur, is the worst of all the beasts.

Luckily for us, Eligius is called in the other direction before he can find his way to our tables. He stops his protesting, warns the cleaner that he'll return, and jogs away down the dock steps towards the water. Hopefully to deal with a matter that will take hours instead of minutes. Long enough for us to scurry home before he catches us.

"You shouldn't fear him so much," Chaska hisses. "Magic is forbidden, but Eligius is denser than us all. He won't spot a member of his own kind before a Luminary."

I slam my knife onto the table, slicing off another head, and it draws the attention of the nearby guards. They slow their conversation, watching me carefully, and I flash them a shy smile. When I turn back to Chaska, her frown is flat and annoyed. If I can't get her to stop speaking, the guards can.

"We'll train tonight," I whisper, more to the fish than her. "Nothing too grand and no abilities that'll draw the attention of the entire kingdom."

Chaska squeals with glee and a smile blossoms onto my cheeks. It's the least I can do, and she's right. I cannot avoid using the power for the rest of my life. Luminary strength calls to me every hour of every day, and the Void Queen wanted me to fight it. Wanted me to turn into something else. For the sake of the Raven Queen, her sister, I will not.