Maize Miranda was only twelve years old when she first arrived in the City. Most of the children there were far older, less children and more young adults. The only reason Maize was there, was because of her father.

Major Elliott John Miranda was a figurehead for the government's army, one of their "best and brightest", so to speak. He was known for being strong and overbearing, whipping even the scrawniest of soldiers into shape. When the president caught wind of his reputation, he was immediately summoned to the City to act as a lead surveillance officer. Elliot John Miranda packed up his wife and daughter and immediately moved to the government-owned penthouse they were given. Maize was enrolled in the most illustrious school, and her mother was offered a job as the secretary of one of the president's personal confidantes.

To say that the Mirandas had risen in status would be an understatement. Maize went from being a nobody girl who couldn't even count to twenty, to the center of attention in classes meant for far older children than her. There were expectations, of course-- she had to significantly improve her intelligence before she gained the respect of her peers-- but otherwise she lived a life that could really only be called luxurious.

On days where she didn't have school, she was allowed to roam the City, though she was always accompanied by at least one armed guard. Within her first year in the City, she had mapped out the whole perimeter, often finding herself staring through the tall fences out at the waters beyond the borders. The fences were there for their safety, as were the barriers that kept waves from crashing against them. Nobody knew what actually happened if you touched the water from the Sea, but rumors often spread. Some said that it was toxic and would melt human skin, some said that it was more alive, and would pull you under and drown you if you got too close.

Maize didn't really believe any of it, to be completely honest. She knew that there would be much stronger protections if that was the case. What she did, believe, though, was that the Sea changed you. She saw the soldiers that patrolled the perimeter, how their faces were covered in masks, and yet their hands often shook on the weapons they held. What use were weapons against water? How could bullets stop the waves?

The soldiers knew something the rest of them didn't, and Maize was determined to get them to spill. She craved information, the knowledge of what lay beyond the fences, beyond the deep blue Sea. She started small, greeting the soldiers as she passed, making conversation with her guards. She presented herself as a curious, yet entirely average, child.

Maize may have come to the City knowing nothing, but she was a quick student. She picked up maths and science faster than her older peers, soaking up information like a sponge. She learned how to play dumb, and how to get more out of a conversation than the adults usually intended. She knew how to bribe and blackmail and threaten-- all things her parents didn't know she was being taught.

School didn't teach her that, of course. The streets did.

All along the streets of the City were people, old and young, who had something to say. Sometimes it was stories of days gone by, sometimes it was little tidbits of information on guard rotations. Sometimes it was just an invitation to play a street game like marbles or jacks. But in those conversations, Maize learned. She learned how to lie and cheat and beg and fight, far better than she would ever learn from the government-approved tutors she had.

Of course, she wasn't blatantly taught these things. Her guards would catch on immediately. No, instead, the lessons were disguised as games and stories. A game of poker can teach one far more about lying than any true lesson of its kind. Maize had a proud collection of stones that the street people bet with that she won over countless attempts.

And now, Maize could put all her knowledge to use. She asked questions, she played games, she made small talk. She skipped along the fence line, beaming up at shaking soldiers with childlike whimsy that couldn't help but make them soften to her. By her second week of trying, they were greeting her by name. By the third, she was greeting them by theirs.

It took nearly a month before she got her first real bit of information.

She had been talking with Jeremy, one of the soldiers, when he let it slip.

"So, Mr. Jeremy, why's the Sea so off-limits?" Maize asked, as she always did.

Jeremy laughed it off, as he always did. "Miss Maize, you know I can't tell you. What would the bosses think? Sendin' a little girl off to the Time-Dark Sea..."

Maize blinked, not letting on that that was new information to her. "Aww, Mr. Jeremy! I wanna know!"

The back-and-forth continued as it always did, with nothing new revealed, but internally Maize was grinning. She finally had a name for the Sea that everyone was forbidden from. The waters that were so treacherous that it required armed guards to patrol its borders.

the Time-Dark Sea...

The opportunity then presented itself to Maize inthe most glorious of golden opportunities: Finlay Miller—a streetkid Maize used to run a particularly clever little con with involving far too many pilfered bandages from the school nurse—had been called up for service, positioned right at the coastline of the Time Dark Sea. She was relayed this information by his sister, Karly, who hawked contraband magazines and the occasional ounces of pixie dust down by the bars in the back alleys of The City. She told Maize that Finlay knew Maize was a clever individual, that if anyone was to know the truth, it was her, an aside Karly scoffed out to Maize as if it was a symptom of a foolish crush. But all his letters home were since forwarded to Maize, and that was that.

The first letter arrived three days later.

It was folded into quarters, its edges softened from having been carried around in Karly's coat before finally being slipped beneath Maize's bedroom door, who pulled the curtains shut, and sat cross-legged on the carpet beside her bed.

The handwriting was unmistakably Finlay's. Messy, hurried, with certain letters practically crushed into the paper.

Maize unfolded it.

Maize,

Don't know how long I've got to write these. Karly says you're still asking questions about the Sea.

They put us on the eastern shoreline. There's six of us to a post and we're not allowed past the markers. They make us wear the masks all the time, even when the wind's blowing away from the water. I thought it was because if the sea, fumes or noxious gases, but it’s not.

There's something underneath it. It was too far out to be a tower, but it was definitely made of stone, black stone. It came out of the water for ten minutes and then disappeared again.

Sergeant Hound told us we'd imagined it, but still ordered us to shoot at it. Our bullets just hung there. Six of them, like someone had put them on invisible strings, before they fell into the water. After that, Sergeant Hound wouldn't talk to anyone.

There's something else. Last night, I found footprints on the beach, coming out of the Sea. I followed them. They stopped at the old watch station, into the trapdoor beneath the thing.

Maize, I think the government knows what's out there. I think they've known for a very long time.

—Finlay

Maize read the letter twice, then shook out the envelope again. A photo fell to the floor, fluttering in the breeze, paper soft and ink fading. A young man in military uniform stood in front of a large stone tower. It wasn’t Finlay, Maize was sure of that. She held it up to the light, squinting at the small embroidered name tag on the man’s breast. ‘Sg M Hound’ it read, photo dated ‘1789’. Maize felt her breath catch, and her heart drop.

That was when she saw it.

Dozens of military men hanging from the tower windows, swaying on ropes like flags in the breeze. And among the rows, Maize spotted a frame and face that was undeniably Finlay’s.