Every morning, as the first light of the sun shone over the mountains, bells rang from the seven watchtowers of Vittoria. Octavia kicked her thick blankets down, jumped out of bed, and threw open the shutters. The morning was cold, and her breath misted as she leaned on the windowsill. The scents of fresh bread and warm pastries rose from her family's bakery below. The first bell to chime was atop the tallest tower, which overlooked Wyvern Gate on the northern side of town. It rang as soon as the sunlight touched the summits of the highest peaks surrounding the valley. Movement on the narrow street caught Octavia's eye. Four stories down, a pair of town guards in black uniforms rushed down Fishing Cat Lane toward Juniper Street. She felt an uncomfortable twinge of worry in her chest. It wasn't normal for the guards to be rushing about this early, before the gates were even open. Something must have happened during the night. She didn't hear any shouts or sounds of alarm. She hoped it was nothing serious. The guards were gone from Fishing Cat Lane by the time the second bell began to ring. Five more followed in quick succession, and soon all seven bells were ringing together, all around the seven-pointed star of Vittoria's high wall. Their song chased up and down the River Nyx and Long Road, echoed from the rocky mountainsides and the forested hills, and filled the terraced fields and orchards of the Lonely Vale. For the townspeople of Vittoria, the morning bells meant the day was about to begin. The bells meant it was time to wake, time to rise, time to work. During the daytime it was safe to venture beyond the wall, and it would be safe until darkness fell again. Vittoria was the last town in the world, home to the only survivors of a terrible war, surrounded by a vast and dangerous wilderness. The worst of the dangers were the monsters, and for those monsters the morning bells meant something else entirely. They were a warning, a signal to the creatures that lurked in the forest that daylight was coming. It was time for them to flee into the darkest thickets and caves, where they would cower until night came again. The creatures were called Ferox, a name given to them by the sorcerer who had created them as weapons of war, designed to attack with ruthless speed and vicious power under the cover of night. That sorcerer was gone now, and the war long over, but the Ferox remained. The endless rhythm of day and night, safety and danger, light and darkness, defined life in Vittoria. Octavia could feel the bright promise of the morning bells in her bones, just as she would, later, feel the ominous warning of the evening bells. The bells that rang at twilight had a deeper, heavier sound. Octavia listened until the bells fell quiet. The morning was cold, but the sky was clear and cloudless, streaked pink to the east, with the last stars twinkling in the west. Clear skies meant good light, good visibility, easier tracking. Today would be a perfect day for hunting. Excerpted from Hunters of the Lost City by Kali Wallace All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
