In early December, the cold in Blackmoor City grew thick and dark, creeping like a shadow through the corners of its streets and alleys.
The daylight grew feeble, the streetlights were shrouded in mist, and the night unfolded into an even deeper shade of black.
A cold wind scraped off the pitch-black surface of the sea, pricking the skin with a painful, stinging itch, as if something from a Nest had just caressed your face.
The temperature had dropped too quickly and suddenly. Mai Mingle tightened her jacket, regretting that she'd forgotten her scarf.
Forgetting her scarf wasn't the problem, and neither was the seasickness from the rocking waves. The real headache was figuring out how to handle the current situation.
"Who is this person?"
Emily's hands were shoved deep into her shirt sleeves and her lips were tinged blue from the cold, but her feisty demeanor hadn't diminished in the slightest. "He looks like a total softie. Is he reliable?"
"I'm sitting right here,"
