In their mind's eye, Rutile sees vast fields of wildflowers and an azure sky, the sun glimmering off the heads of junior gems playing near the pond. Then the points of a black star appear over the horizon, jetting out into the blue and soaking the sky as it unfolds, like ink staining paper.

"Lunarians," Rutile seethes, their expression vile. The wheelbarrow runs over a stone, jolting wildly, and the handle cracks under Rutile's grip. "They are... they are like specters, from the moon. You cannot kill them, only dissipate them, like mist. On clear afternoons they come to earth and attack us for jewelry, for servants... for all kinds of things. It is detestable."

Rutile rubs their face with gloved hands, as if they can rub the picture away. "I am a doctor, in my world. When the Lunarians destroy us, I scavenge the pieces and put us together again. To tell the truth, I would rather not talk about it."

Instead, Rutile latches on to something else they heard Devin say. "What is a vampire?" they ask. "I haven't heard the word before. You look human enough, but I know well that that means little."