"I dare you to lick it."

"Ew, no! You lick it."

"No one is licking this," Novi declared. She looked between her little brother, Sunder, and their Eliksni friend, Phyksiis, with a practiced expression of grown-up disgust.

She grabbed the grenade and slung it with all her might at the lake, hoping to see it skip across the placid surface of the water. It sank with a giant, anticlimactic plop.

"Aww, you wasted it!" Phyksiis complained.

The surface of the lake shook as an immense column of water shot into the air. Particles of Strand rained down, twining together to form small, green creatures.

"Run… RUN!" Novi screamed. The Threadlings closed in, poised to explode, when suddenly the arms of a Hunter reached around to shield them. There were three shots, then silence.

Novi opened one eye to see a Ghost hovering in front of her. "What were you doing with a grenade?!" he cried.

The children exchanged terrified, guilty looks.

"You're not in trouble," the Hunter prodded gently, his amber eyes trained on them.

"We—we traded a kid at school for it," Phyksiis admitted. "He stole it from his dad."

"No takebacks," Sunder offered solemnly.

"For a rare Guardian weapon? That must have been some trade."

Novi hesitated then said quietly, "We gave him some Stasis stuff we found at home. But—but lots of parents have been collecting, uh, things… Guardian things too."

"For protection. I heard some Eliksni talking," Phyksiis mumbled.

"Yeah, after the man said he'd come to the City at nightfall," Sunder said and puffed his chest. "But I'm not afraid of the dark."

"Not 'at'—WITH Nightfall. Whatever that is," Novi corrected, the apprehension clear in her voice.

The Guardian and his Ghost stepped back. "This seems to confirm the rumors," the Ghost whispered. "People are arming themselves."

"Alert Zavala," the Hunter replied grimly.