The alternate night did n't advertise itself with fire or thunder, but with absence. Yusuf stepped into the vale at dusk as he'd been impelled to do, yet the air felt concave, as though commodity essential had been removed. The wind no longer rumored. The murk lay flat and biddable. Indeed the sky sounded indifferent, its stars dull and extensively spaced, like eyes that had grown tired of watching. Yusuf gripped the shard of black glass he still carried, feeling its faint warmth palpitation in time with his twinkle, and wondered if this emptiness was itself the vale’s first assignment of the night. He took three way forward, and the