The houses and shops in the city are stacked literally right atop each another like a forest of drunken Eldertrees who collapsed beside the streets and alleyways, leaving scant room to duck or climb through in some areas.

For your information, you don't want to meet a drunk Eldertree, trust me. They get cranky when they've been feasting on fermented sap. And having a large tree the height of these three-story buildings uproot itself and try to come after you is terrifying. No, that is not from personal experience. Promise.

To be more appealing to tourists visiting the capital, most of the shops, inns, and academic or official buildings are whitewashed or painted with milk paint; by contrast, the areas I'm traveling are left the more natural, muted colors of their original materials, especially here in the back. Red and orange stones are decently common, but the muted grey and brown of aged timber takes up most of my view. Small alleyways run behind all the shops on major streets, plus there are almost entire cities that comprise these back alleys if you know where to look, so it’s fairly easy to sneak around unseen. Except by the orphans and guilds that inhabit back here, but they mostly leave Ran and I alone... mostly.

If I wasn’t used to the maze of back alleys not much bigger than Ran is wide, I would likely feel claustrophobic from the tight spaces. As is, it feels strangely like visiting my grandma’s place, a well-known happy space. Or it was before—but we won’t speak of that night. I stifle a shudder.

No waterlights make it back here, but the endless black doesn’t bother Ran, so I just let her lead the way. With my hand on her shoulder, we navigate fairly easily. She only lets me trip once on a bag that was filled with something squishy I don’t care to further examine.

I glare at her as she glances my way with glowing golden eyes filled with humor. She snickers as I slowly pick myself off the ground.

“You are so getting fleas in your barn tonight. Good luck getting rid of those little boogers.”

She just huffs in humor and yawns right in my face, proudly showing off her fangs.

“That used to scare me, silly girl. I know your soft heart too well at this point,” I say, patting her snout that dwarfs my hand.

She pouts, so I rub the favorite spot on her chin to cheer her up, just to let her know I was joking. Her leg pats the ground, and she lifts her head to give me better access.

I marvel at the docile animal before me; grateful she’s my friend and not my enemy. Very thankful. She scared the living daylights out of me before I got to know her.

We ultimately reach our destination. She lowers herself in a half-bow so I can climb on her back. I ruffle her neck as she turns her head to look at me with kind brown eyes glowing silver from the moonlight. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

I hold in a whoop as we dart up the side of the tallest building in the capitol, besides the palace. This monster of a building reaches a good ten stories high, while those around it hardly reach four or five at most.

The back of this place butts up to a half-abandoned guard station on the right that links to a butcher shop on the other side and so on. The left is linked to a three-story inn where a ruckus is currently in full swing as drunk men get drunker. I snort as I hear singing. Horribly out of tune singing. Seems the workers started in their tankards early to be that horrible when the sun has barely passed the horizon and the moon has barely peeked itself from the silken darkening blue above.

The area is patrolled with lax palace guards, making it easier for my... extra activities to go unnoticed.

The back of this building is the white of Glass Granite, which legend says was brought in by mages from the old kingdom to the east. The kingdom that was said to be in the trees and mountains, hidden to all but the most trusted of humans. It’s said that both this magnificent building and the palace were built by Gifted. None know if this is true, and most are skeptics of Gifts themselves. But, the stone walls are seamless. So seamless they reflect sunlight, something our greatest stonemasons have yet to recreate, despite years of trying.

The reason much of the city is white? The stonemasons tried to recreate the granite using mixtures of paints and alchemical agents. Then they sold it to the population at large for a huge profit, claiming it would make their stones Glass Granite. Imagine the outrage when it was just hyped-up milk paint. A few were hanged. Others banished to The Wylds. And the commoners were left holding the expensive bill of plain white buildings, plus having to buy more white paint for upkeep. White buildings need to be painted more often than their brown or grey counterparts.

Wonderful history, eh? Don't worry, I've got worse things in my head. Some more history and some experiences you don't want to know.

The same Glass Granite continues around to the front, while I know from memory that there are huge white decorative pillars that hold up a balcony beginning at the third floor. Each consecutive floor also has a balcony.

The balconies wrap around the building like a giant coiled snake, slowly rising higher with each floor, giving a corkscrew effect, tapering as the building itself gets smaller, and ending at a point high in the sky.

The ground floor only has a few boarded windows and slick stone around the base. The place reminds me of a top. Ya know, those children's toys you can spin on a hard surface? Father made me one when I was little. This reminds me a little of that, if the top was upside down and the fattest part was on the ground while the needle like point stuck up into the sky.

There’s no way in besides a barricaded back door and the gigantic front doors that are shut tighter than the King's dungeons—unless you can climb and enter via a balcony. Which most would consider breaking and entering. I just call it a smart necessity.

The area between the tavern and the building is cloaked in deep shadow. This is where Ran is currently scaling the building. Our perfect entry, veiled in darkness.

Except for… this. I squeeze my legs tighter around her girth and plaster myself to her neck as we hang upside down beneath the third-floor balcony. I keep my cloak clutched in one hand to keep it from flying behind me like bat wings. Ran drags herself over the railing, with me hanging on as if my life depended on it. Which it does. I breath a sigh of relief. We did it. Thank the Good Father of Heaven and Earth.

I ride her as she pads silently up to the sixth floor, just over halfway up. My heart still pounds frantically in my chest from that climb, but I ignore my anxiety and sweating fingers.

I slip off and look over the edge of the silver filigreed balcony to a view seen by few these days. A long time ago, this library was apparently one of the most renowned on this world, and perhaps on many of the worlds.

There are texts here that were written by creatures I thought were fairy tales, such as fairies themselves. These creatures seem to be almost common on the other worlds... but then again, me and Ran still have to listen to gossip about the girl who was eaten by the Timber Wolf while visiting her grandmother's cottage. It's possible these things are only stories that grew from a true tale.

My story grows every year, and most seem to forget that the girl, me, survived. I suppose most are suckers for a good, bloody story. The tale of Red Riding Hood and the Hunter lives on, regardless of how the Hunter was never even a part of anything. He wasn't even real! And the latest claims he killed the wolf by drowning it in magic.

I take a deep breath to calm the frantic beating of my heart that turns at the emotions buzzing in my chest. Ran was the true hero of my story, and most don't even remember that I lived because of her. Instead, the tale says I died, and the Hunter killed the Timber Wolf, avenging me and my granny. Strange how fifteen years can change a story from truth to legend.

Ran nuzzles into my neck, and I turn to kiss her furry cheek before gazing back over the city. My city.