Young Writers Society

"Danny, are you sure this is the correct locale?" Stephan pinched his lips together and looked around the bustling midday underbelly of Celtincrown's foundation.

"I'm absolutely sure," Danny said, nonplussed. He pointed at the sign above the bar. "He said it was the tavern with the smokin' babe on the sign." Of course, he was pointing to the sign above them that showed a woman clad only in beer foam in strategic places.

"If Andy is here, then we should go inside," said Fiona as she walked in. "Maybe the unruly underbelly of Celtincrown can wash my brain of other unruly underbellies I've seen tod--oh my."

Simone crashed in after Fiona, eyes growing wide, a grin on her face too close to cackling to be anything else.

The others poured in after them as a nude lady walked past with a tray of ale. A bouncy young woman bounced up to them and clasped her hands together above her head. "Welcome, y'all, to Smokey Susan's All-You-Can--" she thrust a hip at Danny, "Eat buffet, bar, grill, and lounge of sundry delights."

Danny blinked, unfazed as Simone and Fiona basically hauled him out the front door. "But I like sundry delights!"

Stephan coughed into his fist and slid the young woman a gold piece. "Please, er, take a class on..." He looked her over. "Cosmetology."

"Is that the one with those big ol' telescopes?"

Stephan pulled out a few more coins. "Perhaps this is the correct profession after all." The little lady giggled and bounced away, coins jingling in a purse--wait, where did she get a purse?

"Interesting how you can talk to people, right?" Aten's eyes cut away and he slid out the front door's draperies in his natural non-presence that made him so...

"Aten!" Stephan followed him out, only to be pulled to the side in the dark foyer. A finger jabbed into Stephan's chest.

"Those who have nothing to hide do not hesitate. They don't make excuses, they don't stall. They are upfront and honest."

Stephan pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you would just be patient, my irritable oasis-lapping gazelle."

"Enough with the gazelles, Stephan!" Aten threw his arms out, wind blasting up at them from below. "I can't pretend to trust you if you act more and more like quicksand day-in and day-out."

Stephan placed his hands on Aten's shoulders and slowly--not to build a mood or cause anticipation, but because the moment demanded that things be slowed down--placed his lips on the crown of Aten's head. "Please, Aten. Give me a bit of time and you will know all there is to know about--"

"Stephan," shouted Simone, slicing her way through the drapes in the doorways. "Oh, look at you two lovecocks."

"Love birds, Simone."

She smirked. "Not from where I'm standing." She hoisted a dagger over her shoulder. "Andy called on the stone. So we're leaving." She waggled her eyebrows and went back to slicing her way out of the foyer.

He turned back to Aten. "Me."

"What about you?"

"I literally just told you. Everything."

"No, you started to tell me to wait--"

"No, I was finishing my sentence. You will know everything about me."

"Oh, right, before Simone, and yeah. Gotcha." He paused, his hands falling with a sigh. "Fine, but this is your last shot."

Several yards down the road stood the group, yet again in front of another seedy looking bar. This one had a painting of a baby whose rump was on fire. Andy came out of the doorway, brow furrowed. "Ya'd really take me to be the nudie bar kinda lad, Danno?"

Danny shrugged and scratched the back of his head. "I was willing to take a shot..."

Andy caved and held the door open. "We'll talk inside. The guards have been restlessly patrolling every hour on the hour. No need to give 'em unnecessary cause to search us."

"Dunno," spouted Simone as she walked through, "I wouldn't mind being patted down by a man in uniform."

Fiona followed, eyes leery. "I'm beginning to question the benefits of the time you spent with my brother."

Danny bounced along after them. "I always question the time I spend with David! And it usually ends in cuffs!"

"I hope you held onto them." Stephan growled into Danny's ear.

Leigh entered, but pulled Aten into the shadow of the foyer. Voice lowered, ve cut vis eyes to Andy and the others. "Under no circumstance will we allow Andy to get his hands on that stone." Ve narrowed vis eyes. "Got it?"

Still a bit jittered, Aten muttered a deja-vu before peered around Leigh's shoulder and watched the others taking a seat at the largest table in the inn. "I don't understand what's so--"

"No. Circumstance."

Aten blinked. "How does that clarify anything?"

Leigh coughed into vis fist. "I'll tell you everything later."

Aten narrowed his eyelids. "Ra's sake, why do people keep--"

"Hey, Clouds!" yelled Andy, "we're waiting for you two like very kind and generous people." And his tone dropped. "So why don't you plant your asses already and stop gossiping?"

Stephan sat perfectly upright in his awfully-postured chair and drummed his fingers on the heavy oaken table. "So I take it that you're Daniel's brother?"

Danny and Andy jerked their heads to him at the same time, pinkie fingers picking their right ears, left eyebrows raised, gorgeous green eyes curiously alight. "How could you tell?" they asked in unison.

Stephan pointed to their necks. "You're wearing the Dawson Family Crest." He grinned and leaned in. "If memory serves, you owe my family quite a few shipments of fire crystals."

The brothers looked at one another. "What did we use them for?" Danny asked.

"Ma had us steal 'em so she could make stew for that block party a few years back."

"Oh yeah." He opened his mouth wide and pointed in. "I've still got one stuck somewhere back there."

"Christ, Danny, go to a Dentist!"

Danny pointed over his shoulder at Fiona. "I bought a Dentist just a few days ago, though."

"Danny, I'm not a dent--"

Andy leaned in. "You're a waterbender?"

"Well, yes--"

"You heal people?"

"Well, yes--"

"Then yer a dentist. Fix his teeth or you'll never Dent in this town again."

Stephan groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Thugs and bandits," he grumbled under his breath. A waitress appeared behind him, clothed this time. As Stephan peered up, he realized that he was certainly talking to the same woman who had been stark naked in front of him earlier.

"How're y'all doin' tonight?"

Stephan sighed. "You're not getting another coin from me, whatever game you're playing at! I paid you well and full before, so just get me the finest bottle of wine you have in this ill-lit den of assorted venereal diseases."

She propped her hand on her hip, side-eying him. "So you said one bottle of wine?"

"Yes." He didn't even bother making eye contact.

"And y'all?"

A resounding, massive, gargantuan, racous, overwhelmingly unified chorus shouted. "BEER!" before Aten added, "but only if it's free of slave labor."

Simone cawed in laughter. "Man, slave beer is the best!" She kicked back. "Something about the injustice and blood makes it so much richer..."

The barkeep giggled and nodded. "So I'll just bring over a keg and have one of our priests bless it for y'all." She turned, took a few steps, then sighed over her shoulder. "And a bottle of wine."

"So Danno," cut Andy, leaning his elbow on the table. "I've been waiting two weeks to see that stone of yours."

"We had to get a Dentist," Danny answered, not missing a beat. "You want me to show it to you, don't you?"

"That'd be much apprciated, Danno."

Danny reached into his cloak, and Leigh tensed, sending a glare towards Aten. Stephan, wedged in the middle of the table, made note of the odd exchange. Danny slid the stone onto the table in front of him. "Shiny, ain't it?"

"She's a beaut, Danno." He reached out for it, but a sudden, subtle, gust of air sent it rolling into Leigh's lap.

Leigh, narrow-eyed, looked down at the stone and then at all the eyes turned on vem, but ve just blinked. "Oh, like the rest of you have never had balls in your lap before."

Simone smirked. "Yeah," she shoved a thumb over her shoulder at Danny, "but his weren't green and packed with alchemy power."

Danny shrugged. "One outta two ain't bad."

Aten cut through the laughter, clearing his throat. "Balls or no balls, we should figure out how to meet with the...wait, who even rules this place?" Leigh subtly stowed the stone in vis coat pocket, winking at Aten.

Everyone looked at one another...until all eyes were on Fiona, the dentist.

She raised an eyebrow, looking up from her small knitting project. She made a face. "There was a queen the last time I was here." And back to knitting she went.

"Then we're gonna meet a queen, I guess." mumbled Simone. "I wonder if she'll have anything worth snatching on the way out."

"No!" shouted Stephan, fist slamming into the table. "I will not allow you hooligans, Fiona withstanding, to stand before a Queen and make fools of us all!"

"Oh come on, we're not that embarassing," Danny commented, breadsticks stuck in his mouth like walrus tusks.

Andy broke off half of one and took a chomp of it himself. "Dunno, Danno. The flamey one has a point."

Stephan pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "All of you are just so...so...plebian!"

Leigh raised an eyebrow. "I beg your boorish pardon?"

Stephan growled. "You're worse than all of them!" He put a hand to his forehead and fell back in his chair. "You're...a librarian!"

"I didn't know you supported small government," Danny added, Aten pulling him into a whisper of correction.

Leigh folded vis arms and looked at Stephan coldly. "And all of this soapboxery is coming from the man who supposedly left a life of abundant leisure and loftiness behind in the rich land of Celesta...for what, exactly? Just to hold a sword to my head and flirt with Aten?" Leigh scoffed. "Whether or not anyone at this table believes in destiny or fate or God or gods, you, Stephan, are a simple anomaly who refuses to bring forward any reasoning for your involvement in this quest in the slightest. In fact," ve leaned in, "it would be wise of one to ponder whether such a mysterious and sudden ally turned out to be an ally at all."

There was silence. And there were glances exchanged. Finally, all of them fell on Stephan, who looked only at Aten. His voice was low and soft. "Have you had your fill of waiting, Aten?"

"I'm a patient fellow," Aten said, his tone casual, but his eyes locked in a pircing glare. "But I'm not sure about the rest of my friends."

Stephan nodded, golden locks falling in front of his eyes. "Before the seal was erected, the energies that flowed through Celesta traveled through natural energy channels called Ley Lines. They're a type of river...only for energy, you see. And there were a collection of those Ley Lines beneath the lands my family owned. My ancestors gathered the minerals and gems from the earth--garnets, rubies, nothing special--and embued them with fiery energies. We were the first to create a method by which any man could harness the power of pyrology without being gifted with auburn eyes." He sat up and pushed his hair back. "We were the richest family in the world."

"And the seal stole your livelihood." Fiona had put down her sewing and watched the man beside her with great care.

"Not immediately," he countered. "The Pirion line had amassed such a fortune of these great and powerful stones that we continued to thrive and partake in Celestan nobility until just a few years ago, when the last remaining thousand were pillaged from our village of Emberwood."

"If it makes you feel any better, that stew was really good." Simone jabbed an elbow into Andy's side.

"It does not. Ultimately, I left home in the hopes of finding new Ley Lines." He looked up to Leigh. "And I did."

"You're not shocking me by finding energy lines converging beneath the monastery."

"Well, you shocked me quite a bit back then." He shook his head. "I went to Gwendolyn with a business proposition, but when I came to her chambers, I overheard her speaking to one of her mages about the stone within the mountain...or the stone she believed to be in the mountain." His eyes narrowed. "So how could I pass up the lust? In one fell swoop, I would rejuvenate the land and my family's wealth. I would bring prosperity to a world that has long since begun withering." He smiled. "It's almost too poetic in itself to pass up."

Aten drummed his fingers on the table. "Stephan, why would this be worth keeping secret?"

Stephan smiled wryly. "A noble without nobility has no identity, Aten. A man with no identity has no purpose in life. And those without purpose do not attract those with purpose."

Danny swallowed a big chunk of breadstick. "I don't get it, though. That's...no. That doesn't make sense."

At that moment the bartender returned, a keg marked with with holy symbols under one arm, and a bottle of wine in her other hand. "Here ya go." She kept her eyes on Simone the whole time, before quickly returning to the back.

Stephan reached for his bottle, not bothering to poor himself a glass, and just chugging back a gulp, as the others tapped the keg. To his disgust, he found himself assaulted with a wave of wine soaked noodles. He spat, the noodles splattering across the table. "What is wrong with these vermin?!" He bemoaned. "Fine, Daniel, I shall educate you."

Stephan sighed and stood up, placing his hands on his chest, a sparkling rose pulled from nowhere. "I have a confession, darling plebians, doctors, and librarians!" He paused, tipping the rose against his nose. "I, Stephan Pirion, am poor!"

"Sure didn't feel poor earlier," Simone spat out, patting the gold still in her pocket.

"That gold was stolen from your secret stash you keep hidden within the engine room of the ship," he confessed.

Simone choked and drew a dagger. "You mean to tell me I've been carrying around NOT-stolen gold all day?!" She threw it all on the floor.

"Well, you probably stole it orginally," Aten interjected.

Realizing her mistake, she dropped to the floor, picking it up piece by piece. "This is why I keep you around, Tin-Tin."

"So that's it, then?" Andy asked. "You're poor? That's the big confession?" He looked around the table. "Your mates are pitiful, Danno."

"Oh! Is this when we share our own secrets?"

"Yes, Danny," responded Fiona, putting a hand in Stephan's. "So I confess: I don't make my own lollipops!" She blushed. "Bart came up with the recipe and was too ashamed to tell anyone that they were his!"

Simone grinned from beneath the table. "Remind me to put one of these gold at an altar in memory of your precious ego, princess."

There was a bump underneath the table as Fiona's boot dug into Simone's gut.

Danny stood up. "I confess that I, uh." He scratched his head. "Huh. What don't you guys know about me?"

"He was a fat kid!" shouted Andy. Everyone applauded.

Danny blushed. "I was...I was just big-boned!"

Simone popped up and smirked. "You're still big-boned."

Leigh stood and bowed to everyone. "I know fewer languages than Aten does, and this both greatly shames and amuses me."

Simone kicked her feet up. "I would sell any of you to a cannibal for less than what I get in a month from my restaurants."

Stephan looked at Simone in shock, mouth agape. "You own a buisness?!"

Simone's expression melted. "Why so surprised, street rat?"

Andy groaned as he leaned forward in his chair. "If I'm a part of this--which I ain't wantin' ta be--then I'll say it: I get a tattoo on ma chest whenever I beat Danno in a fight." He ripped opened his buttoned-up shirt and showed a veritable cartoon panel of fight scenes ranging from little kids all the way to grown men.

And that just left Aten.

"Would any of you object if I took Stephan somewhere more private for mine?"

Andy breathed a laugh, but no one made any comments. Aten slipped out, while Stephan wormed his way off the table.

They walked to a less populated corner of the bar, standing near the corner. Stephan was on edge, fidgeting as he didn't know how to hold himself, how to react. For one of the few times in his life, Stephan was at a loss for words.

"Thank you, Stephan." Aten reached out his arm, pulling Stephan into a hug, briefly pecking his lips as they parted. "What you said earlier, about feeling without purpose or identity, I know that feeling all to well. I drifted for many years before finding my way into Danny's gust, and with it a cause to fight for.

"But you, Stephan, what you said earlier....You may feel lost, but you do have a purpose, you said it plainly back there, you are on your own quest. You've taken control and charged forward, finding new purpose in your loss of the old. From my perspective, it seems that your path runs parallel my own, so if I may be so bold, I would like us move forward toghther."

"I suppose that may appeal to me," Stephan said, head looking down. "If you truly insist on it."

"You two done with your love crap?" Andy shouted. "Some of us have actual buisness to get on with."

The two of them walked back, Aten wrapping his fingers with Stephan as they took their seats. "I insist."

"Now then," Stephan started. "I have quite the challenge on my hands, don't I?"

"What are you on about now?" Andy moaned.

"Well, who else is capable of making the bunch of you presentable enough to see The Queen?"

"There's a reason King Joseph founded the senate twenty years ago, and you both know it to the stern crosses on the t's!"

Senator Aldren had long been the speaker of the house of representatives in Lordaeron. He was there in the first meeting, and he was there then, and the way the others saw it, he would be at the last meeting of the senate, would that his old age allow him. The man was tall and slender, with waist-length hair in a miraculously wrapped ponytail, and he had a neatly trimmed beard that had not changed in twenty years.

Colbert, the youngest on the council, sighed with his head in his palm and drummed a quill on the table boredly. He was lean and neatly suited--as always--and had short, spiked black hair with white tips that came naturally. "Really, Aldren, I don't think there's anyone in this city who would care whether or not they found out that Her Majesty passed on. She never allowed visitors, she had no children, no husband, and her reputation with the public extended only to rumors that she once used Astronomy in a moment of anger."

Aldren's nose flared. "That was severe flatulance and you know it!" He was red in the face. "This is MY queen we're talking about, gentlemen. YOUR queen as well. We will either find Princess Gwendolyn, or simply--"

"What, replace Meredith?" Senator Danks shook his head. "I was elected by the citizens of Celtincrown to protect their better interests."

"And their pockets, Danks."

He shot a glance towards Colbert. "My stance is firm: I will not allow the people to be deceived!"

"Which is exactly why we're going to seek out Princess Gwendolyn."

"That may prove yet to be a fool's errand."

The senators stood to attention, searching the room for the source of the disembodied voice. An azure cloud seeped in through the open atrium above, mixing and swishing around about the shafts of sunlight in the rotund chamber. At the front of the senate's table, a long, wiry man materialized from the cloud, blacksteel staff in hand, on the head of which was the beak and eyes of a bird with red eyes. He slammed his staff on the floor, creating a reverberating clap of arcane thunder. His face was thin and bony, chin adorned with a black goatee, dressed in black and blue robes, forehead crowned with a tattoo that peaked in the center of his nose and spread down across his bald head, his widely-gauged ears.

"Who in God's name are you?!" shouted Aldren, raising a short saber in defense.

"I am Archmage Corvid, master of the Avenoir. And I have come from my home of Allons to bring you ill tidings."

Colbert smirked, lounging back into his seat. "You picked a great time to come, buddy. Go ahead. Tell us all your sick secrets."

The Archmage furrowed his brow and slid a tongue slit at the tip into a viper across a gauged lip. "As you are fully aware, the royal line of Lordaeron rests now solely in the hands of your lost Princess Gwendolyn, Archmage of Lordaeron."

Aldren scoffed and shook his head. "You are mistaken, stranger. Lordaeron explicitly prohibits the practice of magics in any form, least of all the undisciplined arcane."

Corvid lifted a brow and shuffled his staff around in a small and subtle twister, conjuring a gust of magic to plant the senator in his seat, blade returning in the air to its scabbard. "You closed-minded nobles fear what you do not understand, yet while you stand about bickering over replacing one corpse with another, you have not received word that Archmage Gwendolyn perished shortly before her sister."

"Heresy!" shouted Danks. "We will not tolerate lies in this place of justice!"

Corvid nodded. "Then allow me to provide evidence for you, gentlemen, for a mage never comes unprepared." With another slam of his staff, a rift opened behind him, allowing a view into the slaughtered, ruined remains of Dreamer's Rest. "Your princess was slain atop the pagoda resting above the Scholar's Tower. Her assassins were so kind as to detonate explosives throughout the entirety of the Monastary, bringing the whole of the Scholars to extinction." He turned again to see the wide-eyed men beholding the slaughter as the vision of the past ran through the ruins and ended on the face of a young brown-haired alchemist. "Behold, gentlemen, the face of your assassin." He furrowed his brow. "Who now walks within these selfsame walls."

"Then we will arrest him for regicide!"

Corvid's tongue lapped at his lip, irritated. "Would that you could, fools." The portal shredded from view into thin clouds of vapor that ran around Corvid's head and into his nose. "It was this council that exiled the Archmage for practicing her magic within Celtincrown. Your stubborn ways have cost you a queen--and God knows how much more over five hundred years."

Aldren slammed his hand on the table. "Lordaeron has been in an era of prosperity since the day that damned seal was erected! Clearly you are no scholar of Allons if you cannot see that."

"Prosperity within a walled city means nothing when the citizens throughout your country languish with poverty and resort to piracy and pillaging! Your vision in your old age is so short-sighted, Lewis Aldren, that you cannot see the smoke of war within your very nation!"

The senators grew quiet, save Colbert. He stood and pointed at the Archmage's staff. "Open the portal once more. I wish to stand by the grave of our Princess."

Corvid smiled, the arcane smoke leaving his nose and forming the portal once more. Once full and vibrant and as tall as any man had ever been, Colbert stepped in, followed by Corvid, Danks, and finally Aldren. The air in the Rest was polluted by slate and mortar, and there were piles of bodies being burned by pyrologens. Underneath a green tent erected by the ruins of the Scholar Spire stood an old, tired-looking Shirobian woman with her arms folded behind her back. She caught the presence of the strangers and approached as the senators watched the scene in terrified awe. Just who would be capable of such vibrant destruction?

"So the Archmage of the Avenoir arrives finally at my doorstep, and brings three strangers with the Lordaeron insignia on their breasts--meaning you're here either to help me or kill me." She hummed a very light laugh. "Part of me hopes it's both, after the work I've been doing." She pointed towards the lower rise of the tiered monastery. "Archmage, if you would tend to my wounded alchemists?"

"At once, Mother."

Corvid left them, taking with him the smoke of the portal, and Anka peered at her guests with raised eyebrows. "You are mistaken. I am not the boy's mother...but yes, I am the boy's Mother." She nodded towards her tent. "If you three will ignore the abundant refuge of benders I have here, I would love to treat you to tea."

Colbert straightened his tie and nodded. "It would be an honor and a welcome respite from the air in the senate hall."

Anka walked forward, but talked all the same while mulling over his confession. "Well, if the senate has left their tower in Celtincrown, something dire must be afoot." She grinned, thinking of the havoc her family must be causing. She sat and kicked her heel into the marble ground, raising up three seats for the senators. "So Aldren," she mused, "I take it, since you're a senator for Her Majesty, you've abandoned your alchemy training."

Aldren's eyes grew wide, his cheeks red with rage and embarassment. "How did you--I don't--who are you?"

"Lewis Aldren, we met long ago when you were but a boy. You were my second pupil once I arrived in Lordaeron." She chuckled and took her cup of tea in both hands. "I'll never forget how you demanded to paint your chest in Shirobi war paint before every lesson--how those tattoos looked on such a scrawny little rabbit like you!"

Colbert and Danks broke, laughing hysterically. Aldren simply grew more in awe.

"Shiro Anka!" He dropped to his knees, kicking up dust from the ground. "Please forgive my ignorance!"

"Oh, have some self-respect you old doe." She sent him to his chair with a kick of alchemy. "So tell me, boys. How is the queen's father?! He was quite the looker back in my day! Oh-ho!"

"He's no longer with us, ma'am." Danks loosened his tie. "He died eight years ago, and was placed without a funeral in the Ganymede Crypt with his family."

"I see." She shook her head. "You shouldn't be shy talking about death, you know. It's one of those neighbors you never quite shake. She knows whenever you're not home. She knows when your children sneak out at night." Anka shook her head. "She knows when they don't return."

Danks and Aldren drank to that. Colbert, though, had his eyes on the lower pagoda where Corvid was conjuring bandages and medicines. "Anka, you seemed to know the Archmage. Is he to be trusted?"

Anka closed her eyes and sipped her tea as the wind blew through her thick hair. "Corvid has ever been misunderstood. By companions, by world leaders--even by your own queen." A pause. "They hear his words and see his evidence, and they often believe he acts out of selfish measures; but the truth is far from that." She placed her tea down on the table and looked at the three senators with solemn eyes. "Corvid and his mages in the far north spend their days and nights poring over texts, prophecies, and glimpses of events that do not come with a set timeline. Whatever he has seen can yet be prevented, and thus he has come to you three in a moment that fits both his hour of need--and yours, even if you don't know it yet."

"And how do you know him?"

Anka looked away into the cloudless blue. "Years ago, he came to me in the middle of the wasteland of Blackrend and told me that if I did not return to my homeland of Shirobi, my people and culture would die one by one until the very last drop of blood in Shirobi had dried upon the rocks."

Aldren sighed. "And you did not return home."

"It isn't that I didn't want to, Taavo. It was a matter of what could be best for the world at large." She drank again. "My people were fierce warriors with bloodlust unending. So for the betterment of mankind, I allowed their blood to dry on the rocks." A fond smile came to her face. "And then the Archmage repaid his visit, as he always does. A curse unspoken for five hundred years, all for me." She pinched a group of wrinkles on her face and wiggled them. "I get to live until the blood is washed away, boys!" She laughed. Danks and Colbert nervously chuckled. "My question to you is why he brought you here."

Aldren glanced about their surroundings and finally came to meet Anka's gaze. "Our queen is dead, and we have come to witness the grave of Archmage Gwendolyn."

Anka narrowed her gaze and slowly placed her cup down. "Corvid informed you that the Archmage is dead?"

"Yes, Shiro."

Her fingers drummed on the stone table, making a few pebbles here and there skuttle about in the air. "I think you four should return to Celtincrown, Taavo."

"But Shiro--!"

"Something has changed in the atmosphere...and I have just yet sniffed it."

Anka stood and grabbed her chakram from her table, throwing them at the feet of Corvid, who turned with his staff in defense, an arcane shield raised to deflect them.

"Archmage, you have business to which you must attend. Consider your welcome in this sacred place worn out."

Corvid dispelled his shield and smacked the butt of his staff into the ground, quelling the flames on the burning bodies and dropping Anka's workers to their knees. "Perhaps you have forgotten how I reconcile, Mother!"

Anka shook her head, hands folded behind her back. "I do not fear your reciprocation, Archmage. The world will spin and rocket forth around our sun whether I breathe or not. The same. Is true. For you."

Corvid spent a moment calculating her hostility before releasing his spell on the workers. Smoke left his nose, and a portal opened behind him with a wide open senate chamber within. "I will continue to shape the outcome of the timeways so long as I live."

She pointed to the portal. "And so you will. But you will do so from a distance, as all wizards should."

The Senators walked to the portal, and Aldren turned to see Anka once more; he then grabbed Corvid by the arm and shoved him through the portal before stepping through himself.

Anka gripped the totem at her throat and closed her eyes in quiet anguish. "Whose blood could possibly spill next, Moema? Who else would you rob of me?"

Fiona poked Stephan with a knitting needle, trailing wool through her beer. "I could, you know."
Stephan deflated a little, rubbing the stabwound with his free hand. "What?"
Fiona shook out her knitting, flicking the beer out of the fibres suspiciously easily. Leigh gave her a hard look, which she ignored sweetly. "Well, like I said, I've met the Queen before. I could get us prepped."
Stephan deflated further and stared pensively at the curling noodles on the table in front of him. Fi managed three more stitches- she counted- before Stephan reinflated. "Last time you met her as a simple village wench. This time, you will meet her as a "
Danny looked up from his beer and burped. "A dentist?"
Simone produced a lollipop wrapper. "A fraud?"
Leigh eyed the beer droplets on the table, arranged neatly in a smiley face. "A prisoner?"
Stephan tilted his head. "I was going to say a Lady, but all right."
Fiona simply completed her row and smiled broader. "Finish your drinks, children. We're going to go see a man about a queen."

Fiona didn't actually really know where they were. They'd been wandering around for at least an hour by now, weaving through streets and back alleys. They'd emerged into a particularly colourful and crowded street filled with vendors hawking their wares. She hadn't spent long here last time- they'd kind of blazed in and out on their quest last time, barely stopping to smell the various foods, which were all fried and on a stick for whatever reason. Fiona waved away a particularly offensive specimen Danny stuck under her nose. Danny, unfazed by rejection, turned and flourished it at Simone, who wrinked her nose. "God, that's not even a good example of mountain oysters."
Danny stared at the half-eaten pale lump of greasy flesh on a stick. "This is an oyster?"
Fi shook her head. "THAT thing didn't come from any water I know."
Simone plucked the skewer from Danny's hand and stared at it critically. "They didn't even de-vein the testicle. I'd have my chefs flayed for this."

Aten passed Danny a bottle and Simone absent-mindedly patted his back, dislodging a chunk of a ram's pride and joy from his throat. "Totally inadequete batter coverage, too."

Stephan and Aten reluctantly parted a half-foot to step around Danny's indescresion, their fingers still linked between them.

"...anyway, Simone, how'd you manage to open a resturant?"

Simone brandished the testicle at Stephan, who swayed away. "What do you mean, manage?"

"I think he means it's odd for someone our age to own a business, Simone." Fi interjected.

"Yeah, well... you have your clinic, so you can't really say much." Simone sniffed loudly, dipositing the fried delicacy in a passing woman's handbag and lifting her purse in a single movement. She weighed it in her palms before pocketing it, staring thoughtfully into the distance.

"Right." Danny wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Do you really serve those things?"

"No, I was just messing with you."

"So it wasn't a testicle?"

"Oh, no, it was a testicle. I just don't serve that shit."

The group rounded a corner to see a bustling resturant. Stephan almost dragged Aten right into the back of Simone and Danny as they stopped in their tracks.

"Wait..."

"Simone, isn't that your resturant?" Blood rushed back to Danny's face as he stared at the busy building. Stephan straightened his clothing and dusted off Aten, and Fiona squinted at the people dining. "I think you DO serve that shit, Simone."

"What in the hell? I didn't approve this!" Simone glared at the patrons. "Who approved this?"

"I imagine it means your business is doing well, though, Simone." Aten shrugged.

"Well, obviously. It's mine, of course it'll do well."

Fiona wasn't really listening. Her eyes had fallen to the plaza the resturant opened out onto, and a bunch of children surrounded by a modest crowd. Everyone was smiling and clapping. Fi's mind wandered home to her brother and his baby, and for the first time since she left she felt a tiny pang of regret. What if she never made it home to be the kick-ass aunt she was destined to be? Faces of various villagers crossed her mind's eye. I wonder if Cookie's burns are healing cleanly. The amount of broken bones I'm missing... just thinking about it makes me tired. Bart better not have cut himself aga-

Oh right. The tiny pang was replaced with a larger one of a slightly different flavour.

Leigh tapped her on the shoulder, disrupting her pensive navel-gazing. The contact was surprising, the contacter even more so. Fi blinked away a mild sting and focused on Leigh. "Huh?"

"Do you see what I see?"

Fi looked at Leigh's face. Ve was drawn and cold,and didn't respond to Fi's querying smile. Ve simply pointed at one of the children. "Look that way, not at me."

"Right." Fi looked. "Wow, that's a pretty impressive juggling trick. The way those knives- should children be playing with knives?!"

"Not the point, Fiona."

"Oh." Fi looked again. The knives caught the sunlight as they flew up, the kid couldn't have been more than eight. Fi was itching to reach for her bag filled with healing salves just watching him. But every time, the knives' arc caught the light, appearing to flutter, and fell point-down towards the kid. Every single time it looked like the knife should pierce his hand, but at the last second..."Oh!"

"Good, you saw it."

"They shouldn't be doing that! Shit!" Fiona turned to Leigh. "What if somebody sees?"

"Keep your voice down. And it's not like anyone even knows what it looks like."

"True." Fi tapped her foot nervously. "Still, though." They watched the kid in silence. Now that Fi knew what she was looking for, she could see it- a tiny disturbance in the kid's sleeve betrayed him as he manipulated the air around the knives. He was never out of control of them at all- they were simply riding tiny puffs of air in a pleasing pattern. The kid had obviously been coached, though- the rise and fall was believeable.

Fi's eyebrows knitted together. "I'm surprised you saw that in your condition."

Leigh shrugged. Fi didn't notice vem leave until Danny caught her elbow a few minutes later. "Simone's gone to inspect her resturant's books, make sure they're not stealing from her- hey, cool, a show!" Danny waved the rest of the group over, and Fi took the opportunity to point out the talented kid. Aten confirmed it- he could sense the disturbances in the wind, once it was brought to his attention. The group exchanged worried glances and all clapped as the act ended.

Fi hissed at Danny. "It's been a while, it's still hella illegal, right?"

Danny nodded. "Yup. Also, who is Leigh bringing over?"

The group looked. Most of them shrugged, but Fi let out a squeak. The squeak started quiet and built up into a full-on screech.

"heeeeeeeeEEELIOS ISTHATYOU?!?"

"Fiona?"

It was indeed Fiona. It was Fiona who almost bowled him over. "I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Shit, Fiona- it's been too long. Still being a damn hippy?"

"Helios, the children!" Fiona withdrew from the hug and frowned at him. Helios shrugged. "They've heard worse."

"I'm not really surprised. Aren't you putting them in danger?" Leigh's voice was cold. Vis face was solid, like rock- but ever so slightly pained.

Helios smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, well..."

"Helios!" Fi punched him in the arm. "They're children! Do you know what happens to-" her voice lowered into a hiss- " people like us?"

"Look, I heard some rumours, alright? Apparently some guy by name of Dawson is going to bring it all back and if I let them practise they're gonna be really good and they're gonna need it when it happens!"

Fiona's hackles lowered slightly, and she glanced over the crowd. The kids were performing again, and there didn't seem to be any suspicion amongst the people watching. "Well..." she relented.

"Plus they make more money this way-Ow!" Helios rubbed his ear where Fiona had twisted it. "God, woman!"

Fiona crossed her arms and glared up at him. Danny stepped forward from the group and extended his hand. "Hi, I'm Danny Daw-"

Fiona elbowed him.

"awwson, ow. What was that for? I'm not exploiting kids!"

"Because, dimwit." Andy pushed through the group, elbowing Danny from the other side. "If everyone knows who we are, and this guy- whoever he is- has heard something, we're gonna be in shit."

"I think that's the smartest thing I've heard you say." Leigh commented darkly.

Helios looked confused. Danny rubbed both of his sides, a little put out by all the abuse. "I'm Danny," he reintroduced himself, "and I think we need to talk."

Aten pushed his way next to Fi, scrunching down to whisper in her ear. “Can this Helios guy…” Aten paused, taking a cautious look behind his shoulder, bits of nausea leaking out of a stoic front as the two of them continued forward. He kept his eyes peeled back, as Helios and Danny were ushered into a spare room by Andy, Leigh and Simmone forcing their way in behind the,

“Aten, what’s wrong?”

“I just,” Aten sighed, placing his palm on the bridge of his nose. “I can’t take it anymore. I need to know if this Helios…”

“Aten, there’s nothing to worry--”

“Can he cook?”

Aten’s head flew to the side, Fi walking past him, a little tentacle of water floating beside where his cheek once hung.

Aten looked back at Fi with puppydog eyes, his hands cradling the tender patch on his cheek. “Why does everyone hit each other in this group?”

Around Fi a gaggle of kids appeared, hopping up and down about showing them some tricks, a single girl climbing up Aten to kiss his cheek “to get better.”

“Can you answer me though, please?” Aten whispered again.

Fiona didn’t make an attempt to hide her voice. “No, Aten, Helios can’t cook for shit.” The kids around her giggling in agreement, some faux displays of disgust mimed around them.

Aten abandoned the effort, and walked toward Stephan, figuring he had already lost the battle there too, as a small gaggle huddled around him too, chanting for more roses. “Stephan, I’m heading for a walk if anyone asks about me. I’ll be back in a few measurements of time. Haven't decided which one yet.” Aten pushed the windows open, perching himself on the sill as he waved to Stephan.

“Aten, what are you doing?” Stephan rushed across the room, clinging onto Aten. “You can’t leave me here with these...tiny handed, slobbering, mucus crusted creatures. Not alone.”

Aten nodded, his head still bobbing as he dropped from the window and into the a featherfall over the street. “I’ll get you some takeout!” Aten yelled up, watching Stephan get dragged back down by the swarm of children.

It wasn’t just the food that had bugging him, Aten was looking for an excuse to get out of the house. Stephan;s declaration may have appeased some of his confusion, and the frustrations that came attached, but it was more than him. Leigh had refused to explain the situation with Andy, telling Aten that it was best to wait till they weren’t in the same house as him.

The way Andy reacted to Helios hadn’t helped. Aten picked up the small stuff, and the way Andy reacted just didn’t seem right. How he didn’t seem to care about Danny, only showing alarm at his own name. How he shushed it, glaring at Danny when he opened his mouth again, steering the conversation onto Danny and Danny alone, and rushing to get as far away from the rest of the group as it persisted.

Aten ran down to the nearest plaza he could find, talking up and down the posts before finally pulling away with two kabobs of some kinda fried sugar balls. While he munched away, loitering against a corner, he tried to see what value the vendors had given him.

Ziltch, in reality. He had slipped Dawson into conversation many times, but most only knew vague stories of the family at best, a few flinched at the name, but gave little actual knowledge away. The only grain of hope had been the fried-dough vendor, who mentioned something about a break in up in the noble quarters. She had overheard that the guards were on the lookout for a brutish, pirate, whose vague physical profile had room for Andy.

One kabob bare, Aten started off toward a nearby ally, popping his kabob between his teeth as he moved into a sprint. With a few jumps and good shadow coverage, Aten managed to scale up the walls without notice. Munching on his kabob, Aten strutted down the line of roofs, keeping low as he looked for a nice blindspot on the guarded wall.

A few seconds of the sloppy security and Aten had his spot, vaulting over the wall, and dashing into a slide toward the ground, keeping a bit of air underfoot for control. Aten scoured the streets, still munching, looking aimlessly for some sort of marketplace, only to find that if there were any, the shops had mostly closed down, and the few that were didn’t appreciate Aten’s minimalist wardrobe enough to let him in. Well, a few did, but they appreciated it a tad much to be useful in conversation.

Finally, Aten stumbled upon a lit bank, and some old words buzzed in the back of his head. “Aye, traders are fine and good for most guff, but I tell ya, tellers are some of the biggest gossips you’ll find.”

Cracking the door open, Aten found himself in a rather depressing little room, a large space, but the only candles that were lit were for a single service station, the rest of the room out of focus in the dim light.

A man sat the station, looking more like he was attending a tea party than working, his presence far too large for his work space, looking like he might burst through the walls at any moment, even with space between them. His posture was tight, his face buried into his work with great attention, seemingly unphased by the late hour.

Aten gazed dumbfounded “Charlie?”

“How in the heavens.” The man gazed up, his determined expression filling with a burst of joyous energy as he laid eyes on Aten. “Did Sunshine find his way into my bank?

Aten charged forward, jumping into a body crushing hug with the teller named Charlie, stumbling back on weak legs as he took his seat. Charlie held up the kabob, shaking his head as he tossed in a bin beside him. "That is far too much sugar, even for you."

"Who cares about my dinner, I thought you were in Blackrend!”

“Aye, I was,” Charlie pushed his seat back, relaxing into a completely different person, the uptight teller dissolving into a calm, aloof worldliness. “Bit too much of a bite, that one, got my fill pretty quick. Decided to come back home for a spell, get a lil’ gold put away in the old retirement fund while I wait for the lovebirds to come back over.”

Aten slammed his hand on the table, his other one clasping at his chest as he laughed. “I’m sorry, it is just so rare to see such maturity, at least the respectful display of it, for me these days.”

“New group?” Charlie wiped away a fake tear. “How have ya been doin?” He quickly raised a finger. “Wait. Forgot who I was talking to. I should really be asking what you’ve been up to." He leaned in close, a smile hidden behind his pressed hands. "Any new stories?”

“Plenty,” Aten leaned back, resting his legs on the table as his chair balanced on it’s back legs. “You heard of that Dawson boy?”

Charlie face dropped to fear. “How are you involved with that terrorist?”

“The what?” Aten’s chair slammed back onto all four legs, his elbows replacing his feet on the table as he leaned in closer.

“Andrew Dawson, pirate, bandit, pillager and murderer. Led a fleet of mostly capture ships and men to tear tore Costa Maria apart. Burned down sacred texts in the Naz Aswan library as a distraction while he plundered their art. Who has, on multiple occasions, marched into rural towns, killed their richest, only so he could stay the night in their beds? Nothing I've heard of Andrew Dawson has been good, let alone the Dawson name in general. I've even heard recently about--Did you have anything to do with the noble's house they say he burned down?"

Aten blinked. “I…um..No. .I’ve been traveling with a different Dawson, his younger brother” Charlie’s eyes narrowed a bit. “No, see Danny he’s….Well, we’re only working with Andy so we can break this bending seal. What would he need to burn down a-”

“Please let me have heard you wrong, Aten. Please don’t tell me you’re trying to break the suppression on the ley lines. And casually at that”

Aten pushed back, head tilted as he looked at Charlie. “How do you know about the Seal?”

“Course I know about the seal” Charlie shook his head, his expression showing it as a gesture he had done far too often.“ You think I could spend near half me life rucking behind Jera and Hannah in those ruins and not pick some secrets up?”

Aten shrugged, his movements twitchy, sinking further into himself. “It seemed like tightly guarded information when Donna told us about it--”

“You got involved with that pirate queen too-”

“Well, actually that title belongs to Simone now.”

“That’s not the point, Aten!”

“Then what is?” Aten whined, his arms falling limp. “Cause I’m pretty conflicted and lost right now, Charlie”

“Good! You should be conflicted, that’s the point. You've gotten yourself mixed up in a dangerous fucking crowd, Aten, that’s the fucking point!” He grumbled. “You’re following the quest of some ruthless she-demon and her offspring!”

“But the seal-

“Shush it, boy. Aside from what that sea-witch told you, how much do you actually know about that seal?”

Aten froze. “...Nothing.” His brain coming to a halt at the complete lack of information hit him. or I guess didn’t. Instead, his minding moving over the entire time spent with Donna, with Andy, and his first meeting with Danny. Looking for asstroll lightning guy... Aten mulled over those words. The utter nonsense that had brought him to Danny, that childlike charm that had launched him into his first quest, and basking in the warm feeling as he relived the moments with the group.

Charlie finally the silence with a sigh. “You’re blessed Jera ain’t here, or she’d shred you for getting involved in something like this so recklessly.”

Aten nodded, his face cracking into a grin as he started talking. “Until Hannah cracks under the hypocrisy, and bursts out laughing, you mean.”

“Oh, true. We'd might as well be dead at that point."

"I'd make sure to get us out before they got to pet names," Aten jabbed.

"You're kind soul. Aten." Charlie added, wiping away another fake tear.

"I'm supposed to be, aren't I?" The silence came back, Aten's gazing moving to the ceiling as his thoughts were sucked away from his control.

“Must be some special people, to have you caught up in your head like that,” Charlie noted. “Hadn’t seen you that contemplative sense those early days in the desert.”

“Crossroads tend to do that,” Aten muttered.

“I don't mean that, not exactly. You’ve found yourself a family, but you’re not sure, or you’re conflicted. Not sure if it’s betrayal to move on, or too afraid to risk losing it again. But sitting on your hands doesn't change nothing." Charlie fixed his posture, giving Aten a sterner look. “What are ya’ going to do, Sunshine?”

"I don't know" Aten said, letting his face fall against the table as he continued. “Danny is different, Charlie, he’s not some monster, barely even a killer. He cares about his family, a lot, and I don’t just mean his blood one, his crew too." Aten picked himself up, more confident in his words as he spoke on. "He tries not to let it show, but I can feel it sometimes, how much he’s afraid of failing us, of failing his family. When Donna died he took up her cause, he said in honor of her, but I think more out of feeling guilt to her…I can’t just leave him, Charlie, he’s my friend, if he’s going down a bad path, I need to be there with him.”

Charlie laid a hand on Aten’s back. “Then be his friend, Aten, but don’t confuse that with being his follower. Help change his direction, there’s no need for either of you to head down the dangerous road, not if you help each other.”

"It's true," Simone crooned, carving the bone of a chicken thigh with one of her gnarlier daggers, "Helios can't cook for shit."

Danny was kicked back in his chair with two of the legs off the ground, his feet up on the table, and he couldn't help but notice that a kid beside him was doing the same. Danny had a chicken bone in his teeth, chewing on the remaining meat. "Iunno. If I had to rate it among the meals I've ever had...it would be number four hundred and thirty-sixteen."

"Nice try, but pulling numbers out of your ass isn't going to make my culinary nightmares any less ravenous."

"I understood a few of those words. Why don't you get Fiona to bandage your brain so you don't get nightmares?"

Simone deflated, sheathing her dagger and leaving the table, grumbling: I'm sure you'd be fine with Fiona bandaging anything of yours. Dumbass oblivious prick.

Danny watched her leave, blinking. The boy beside him looked up to his face and squinted. "What does 'oblivious prick' mean?"

"Dunno," he said. "But she sounded angry, so maybe I should follow her."

"Is that what boys do when we grow up? We follow angry girls until they're not angry?"

"No, sometimes that's creepy and we don't do that. But when that girl is Simone, and when that Simone is saying words you don't understand, you have to make a decision."

"So you're going to follow her and make her not angry."

"I think that is what I'm going to do, yes."

"Shouldn't you go, then?"

"I should."

"Then why aren't you?"

"She froze me to my seat. I can't move."

"That's an unfortunate circumstance."

"I understood a few of those words." Danny sighed and decided that it was a good idea to follow Simone. So he did what any muscular man in his situation would do, and flexed the hell out of his legs until the ice broke with a sick crack. He stood up and picked off a few pieces of ice before nodding. "Okay. Thomas, keep an eye on my potato. I'm not done with it yet, and while I've never known Leigh to steal potatoes, I'm not entirely sure Leigh wouldn't steal my potato."

"Your potato will be safe."

Thomas glanced across the table where Leigh sat, slowly and methodically dissecting the rotten spots from several potatoes--many more than anyone else had been given, and it made Thomas squint with determination.

Down the hall, Danny opened door after door searching for Simone. Behind one door, he found a young girl brushing the hair of a doll that had arms and legs that clearly didn't belong on that particular body. Behind another, he found Stephan writing away in a journal, and only exchanged eye contact when the devilish rogue glanced up from his work to query Danny's query, to which he queried his queer query-query.

As he walked down the hall, he imagined Stephan was writing a poem for Aten. But what would someone write about Aten? He was nice and energetic and dark-skinned. Danny guessed Stephan could compare him to a cougar. Or any sort of dark-furred cat that was very quick. But were they sweet? He remembered having a small cat when he was a boy, and that cat had been very sweet. Were all cats just...cats? Just bigger or smaller versions of the same milkbag?

It was a lot to take in.

In the final room down the hall, where Simone had to be, Danny found no one and nothing but an empty bed chamber that definitely belonged to Helios because there were paintings of his friends on the walls. Danny lit the gas sconce and looked around the room, deflating slowly as he watched the faces in the paintings. David seemed so burdened. Fiona seemed so happy. And the longer he looked at it, the longer he let the faces sink in, the less he saw a band of strangers and the more he saw his own friends. HIs family. Helios was painted in a guard's uniform, and it looked snazzy.

Danny remembered when he was a kid, how he'd wanted to be a member of the Lordaeron military and wear a uniform like that. He distinctly remembered thinking he'd grow up to have broad shoulders and a chin that could cut glass. To be so strong an alchemist that he could topple a city for defying the law.

And then he remembered who he was and where he came from.

Who he came from.

"He still has it, you know." Danny turned to see Fiona standing in the door, hands folded over her waist, smile aglow like the sconce and eyes just as knowing as they ever were. "The uniform. He keeps it in his armoire and never touches it." She crossed the room and opened a shelf door, retrieved a military green jacket. She held it out in front of her to line it up with Danny. "Your shoulders are a little more broad than his, but I think it would make a nice fit."

"Fiona, I don't really think I'm the type of guy who should be wearing military clothes."

Fiona pursed her lips to one side and sighed out through her nose. "Daniel Andrew Dawson, I have known you since we were teenagers, and I am an excellent judge of character." She folded the jacket over her shoulder and unbuttoned Danny's tunic, pulling it down over his shoulders. Most of his torso was bandaged and dirty, and his skin was sun-baked enough to hide his Lordaeranean heritage just so. His jacket hit the floor, and while Fiona began unfolding the uniform, he couldn't get his mind off of that painting--how happy she seemed. Or maybe it was him looking through the lens of her being so somber all the time.

He snapped to when the stiff fabric covered his arms. Fiona began buttoning it and adjusting it so it lined up perfectly. She smiled. "You look like a proper guard, you know." She put a hand to her lips, pensive. "Except for the hair. Yours is far too shaggy to be allowed in the military."

Danny's eyes went wide. "Wait. Military men cut their hair?"

Fiona's brow furrowed. "Religiously," she said with a smirk. "Why the surprise?"

Danny smiled wryly and dropped his gaze to his feet. "In pirate custom, a man cuts his hair only when something major happens. For the death of loved ones, the births of new babies. That sort of thing." He turned his head back up. "It just goes to show how poorly I fit the mold, right?"

Fiona exhaled quickly and handed him the pants. "I trust you with this part. I'll be back in two minutes while I fetch something important."

Danny watched her leave, and then looked at the slacks--armored with chain mail so thin that it didn't make a sound, but so heavy that it felt like he was holding Aten. As soon as he had them buckled and belted, Fiona came back in with a small pendant containing a glinting garden stone. Danny shook his head. "I'm not from your village. I'm not David. I can't just wear a badge from his police for--" She pinned the badge in place on the collar of the jacket and smiled at her handiwork.

"You look so handsome when you're not in rags."

Danny shrugged. "I don't really know that word, but it sounds like you mean that I..." He looked at his hands and imagined how a military man would touch a woman. It would be strict and in-line and proper. It would have rules and regulations. He would be touching a woman like a rule book would, with hard edges and soft pages.

"It means you look nice, Daniel."

He nodded. "Thank you. I don't...know what to say when people are serious and nice to me. Is there a joke here somewhere? There's usually a joke somewhere."

Fiona shook her head. "I've seen every side of you, Danny, and I assure you: you're no joke." She looked down at his bare feet. "Why didn't you put on the boots?"

Danny suddenly felt a shock of embarrassment and blushed. "I don't know how to, er." He pointed at the boots at the foot of Helios' bed. "They're not buckled boots. They have these strings and--"

Fiona pushed him back by the shoulders until he sat back on the bed, then knelt at his feet and put the first boot on. She kept her eyes on her easy work, but pretended it needed her full attention to avoid eye contact. "I need you to know something, Danny." She finished the first and waited before putting on the second, checking a knife slash on his left ankle that had definitely chipped away at the bone. "You are hell-bent on this mission of your mother's. You're doing everything you do for the sake of one person or the other." She finished tying the boot and looked up at him, placing her hands on his knees. "Please just remember that you're someone worth looking out for, too."

She stood and pulled him up from the bed, placing a kiss on his forehead, hair parted. "Now let's go show you off. I bet Simone will eat you alive!"

She grabbed him by the wrist and flung him out the door, into the hallway, and shut the door behind her.

Back in the corner of the room, the closet door opened, Simone stepped out. She was quiet, almost voiceless. "I didn't authorize this," she mumbled. "Who authorized this?"

Of all people to be a decent parental figure, Leigh would have never in a century imagined Simone.

She and Danny were surrounded by a knot of children, Danny obviously in his element considering how child-like he could be— but Simone. She was down on her knees letting the kids crawl over her and play fighting, and, to vis surprise, actually keeping the kids away from sharp blades.

For once.

Leigh sat and watched everyone else from a distance. Aten was playing street games, Stephan was holding a mini theatre where he was the sole actor, Fiona was torn between 'don't do that you'll hurt yourself!' and showing the youthfullness of the others— it could be hard to remember she was around Danny's age.

The pain in vis side and leg kept vem from joining. Before anyone noticed, ve slipped away to some place quieter. The antibiotics were doing exactly what they were supposed to do, but that meant they were pulling out the infection and robbing vem of all energy.

Ve'd been gone for not any more than ten minutes when Fiona knocked on the door. "Are you having a reaction to anything?"

Leigh raised an eyebrow. "Does 'profuse sweating, low energy, and feeling like my veins are on fire' count as a reaction?"

She shook her head. "That just means it's working. You have only been taking it two days. Do any bandages need to be changed?"

"You asked me that three hours ago."

"Yes well." She gestured to the open bed. "You're working on expelling poison from your system. It's going to bleed out through your wounds, especially with the antibiotic, which means they need to be changed more frequently. Sit."

Ve followed the rest of her unspoken instruction to get vis shirt off so she could access the wounds. The smell of pus made itself known once the wrappings were undone, bandages a mix of red and putrid green. It was a smell associated with the tower, with neutralization, and it made vis stomach lurch.

"Are you alright, Leigh?"

It was only that prompt that made vem realize ve wasn't breathing. "I'm fine."

The tilt to her head indicated just what she thought of that. "Is that an 'I'm fine' in the 'don't talk to me about it sense' or an 'I'm fine' in the 'I really want you to ask because I'm scared of opening up'?"

"It means," ve said levelly, "I'm fine."

"The first one." She finished tying bandages around vis chest. "Got it." She packed up her kit, keeping an eye on vem. "You sell yourself short right now, you know, but I'm sure once all this...pressure...releases, you'll find yourself moving mountains."

"THAT'S MY JOB," Danny yelled from the other room.

And that will stay your job, Leigh thought bitterly. Bending had brought vem more harm than felt worthwhile. While the thought of pain easing was somewhat welcome, ve couldn't help but enjoy the internal pain made external. It would be folly to stop an antibiotics treatment too soon, but once it was over then ve would reevaluate.

Ve'd lived as a non bender before and survived. The Scholars had perpetuated their beliefs long enough.

Still, the call of sensing something was strong, grief still lingering at not having lightning in vis veins. As Fiona slipped out to the group, ve went and answered a call so strong it was irresistible even for vem.

The Alchemy Stone.

Ve found it in Danny's room. Meditation with the stone could help ease the ache of not bending, hopefully, just to make it bearable. Ve locked the door to vis room behind vem, not wanting to be disturbed— or caught.

Almost immediately after vis mind stilled, images began forming. Upon the first sign of blood on a rock Leigh wanted to pull away, but the Stone had other plans.

Donna was no surprise, but glimpses of her companion had vem locked in stomach churning fear. Those high heels. That shattered glass laugh.

Gwendolyn.

The sentinels slaughtered, the two women sauntered in the temple, only to stop dead when they saw there was one last line of defence. A tall man in green, his hair pulled back in a ponytail and holding two fist weapons. Ve almost didn't want to believe what ve was watching, but that voice left only one possibility.

David stood no chance against an archmage and Danny's mother.

Leigh tried to block out the fight, to fast forward, but the Alchemy Stone had a story to tell and a mind of its own to tell it. Ve felt its powers used through the vision, David using its power to stop them. Gwendolyn tried teleporting them out but the two women were too close to avoid a last ditch attack. As everyone else was crushed— of course Gwendolyn and Donna would have no mercy for their aids— David followed the two with an iron grip on Donna's hand.

When he collapsed on the floor, that same spot she had died from was visible. Leigh couldn't help but feel triumph he had managed to kill that witch.

The Stone continued speaking, showing David unconscious, Donna removing it from his person. The last thing it showed was Gwendolyn going to start her war with the Scholars, Dreamer's Rest burning in all too familiar ruins.

The vision finally faded, letting vem wake up in a cold sweat.

Ve hurled the stone against the wall so hard it dented the wood, throwing up in a bucket Fiona had insisted be beside vis bed in case of the antibiotics. Little did she know what it would actually be used for.

The pain of neutralization was nothing compared to the pain bending wrought. Ve glared daggers at the stone, swearing nobody would ever get their bending back again— starting with vemself.

Simone stood outside of her restaurant, tapping her foot. The sky above her was the color of an unclean chimney. The soot-clouds clung to the sky, but she could see the sun flickering through them like a recalcitrant ember.

It's past dawn and the Mess Hall is closed, she thought to herself. Unacceptable. Are they magicians who don't need time to prep lunch? Simone paced in circles at the door. Maybe they're at a bar, scoffing all those who work hard for a living.

Her thoughts grew increasingly violent over the course of the passing minutes. Her speculations on the best way to filet a human corpse were interrupted by the arrival of a portly man and a waif-like figure shadowing his step.

"We don't have scraps to spare," the portly man said to Simone, coldly.

There was silence for a moment. Simone's eyebrow twitched. I washed recently! was her first indignant thought. Then the businesswoman in her took over.

"I wouldn't even give dogs the scraps I saw you serve here," she said. "They would die poisoned. What were those things you were trying to pass off as oysters? And it's most definitely past dawn, do you think ingredients magically assemble themselves? Oh, sorry, that's just for fresh ones, of course."

She waved her hands around.

"I can't imagine the state of your pantry. And even that would be an inexcusable lack of creativity, you have no idea what I've made out of shit lying around. Give it a fancy name and you can sell it for full price."

The portly man blinked. The other appeared to be doing his best to melt into the man's ample figure.

"Who the hell are you? Thanks for the advice?" His eyebrows were furrowed and lips pursed.

Simone rolled her eyes. "You're more confused than your menu. My name is Simone." She swept her hair back and stared expectantly at his face.

The portly man's eyebrow raised. "Simone...?"

"That's right!"

"Simone who?"

She deflated. "I own this place. And a few more with the same name. But clearly the person that does these things didn't get the memo."

"You... own Money's Mess Hall?"

"Yes! Have you been sleeping?!" Simone cried out. She turned immediately, rummaging about her person. "I think I... aha!"

Simone produced a battered, slightly yellow piece of paper and thrust it in the portly man's face. It was the writ of property over the establishment's name, stamped by the Norcaster merchant council. The man's jaw dropped.

The waif-like one stepped out from behind the portly man and gave a half bow. "It is a pleasure and an honor, lady Simone. My name is Galen. I am this establishment's second in charge. I also administer its bureuacratic aspect. There has been a misunderstanding. Perhaps we should continue this inside."

Abashed and rather flattered, Simone followed them in as they opened the door.

Looking through the ledgers with Galen (and pretending she knew what she was doing), she learned that somehow, someone had neglected to establish a central communications system with the restaurants as a whole, leading each one to operate as an individual organism. Simone gave Galen, who seemed like a quite well-spoken and, in full honesty, handsome gentleman, the relevant information on the other restaurants and told him to figure things out.

Later in the day, the rest of the staff trickled in. Business was slow in the mornings, so she took the opportunity to get to know them. By which she intended, their skill with knives. At least one young chef's horizons were greatly expanded when it came to slicing and dicing. Simone also investigated their pantry. A discussion on technique and ingredients ensued.

As she was in the kitchen, one of the chefs tapped her on the shoulders.

"Yes?"

"M'am, a certain Danny is here for you. Says he's a friend."

"Oh." She put down her knives and wiped her hands on the nearby dish boy, who smiled widely.

"I suppose I should go see what he wants."

Danny was standing just inside the restaurant. Simone noticed the uniform first: army blue, with some gold stuff on it. Different boots too. She could probably sell it for a pretty penny to the right person. He also had flowers. They were earthy colors.

"Danny," she said, half smiling. "What...?" She pointed at him, and the flowers.

"Well." He looked at the flowers and then at Simone, at the flowers, back at Simone. "I woke up and suddenly you weren't with me, and that's the thing that scares me most in life." He wriggled a bit, scuffing his boot uncomfortably on the wood floor. "So I thought: Where would I go if I were Simone? So I checked the knife shop."

"A nice first choice."

"I thought so." He smiled wryly. "And then this place that looked like a fight club. I fought a little."

"Did you win?"

"A little." He placed the flowers down on a table that let out a puff of dust as the plumage dropped. "And then I came here, but found these flowers. A few weeks ago, Aten said that flowers would make anyone feel better if you care enough. So I got you..." He squirmed. "I'm not good at this."

Simone had long since crossed her arms, her chilly disposition almost making an aura around her. "I never said I was pissed."

"How long has it been since you've had to say anything for me to feel it?"

She deflated and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're doing this. The feelsy shit that drives me nuts. She balled a fist, but almost immediately recoiled it. For the first time since Danny took her from Parix, her voice was meek. "The uniform looks nice on you. It fits your body and soul." A pause. "But I'm unsure if I can say the same for me."

Danny's gaze weakened, and he suddenly seemed less than a bulky knight, a man made of confidence and determination. It receded. He was...vulnerable. "I don't like this feeling. I--"

"Space, Danny." She stepped forward to him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere you don't go, but all the same, I need time to sort this...shit."

He nodded, slow and unsure. "I guess I should go, then?"

Simone hazarded a half smile. "I'll walk you out."

His gaze was distant as they stepped out the door. Simone was hesitant to break the silence. She was doing the right thing. Probably.

"Hey, you!" Danny wheeled around as a voice called out in his direction.

It was a guard. She was bolting towards the two outside the restaraunt door. Simone's hands dropped down to her knives. Danny tensed, then appeared to remember something. He forced a smile and walked towards the guard, who stopped, panting, in front of him.

"We've got an emergency situation! All the guards in the area have been summoned!" Then her eyes narrowed. "Hey, I haven't seen you before. What post are you stationed to?"

"Uh..." Danny mumbled something. "Umm..." he stared at his shoes intently.

The guard waved her hand. "Learn your post's name, at least, recruit." She winked at him. "I was stationed at Horsespit Lane when I first joined. Took me ages to pronounce it right."

"Yeah." Danny nodded. "Something like that, yeah. What's the issue, officer?"

"Serious business, recruit. Serious business. We got word that an entertainer, a certain Helios, has been up to some really dark stuff. Our birdie said he's been forcing children into bending for profit... and now he's aiding terrorists. The biggest terrorists of our age, in fact. You know who I'm talking about."

Simone went white. Danny was puzzled.

"The Dawsons, of course!" the guard exclaimed.

"O-oh! Right." Danny gave a little laugh. "We have to do something about those dangerous terrorists then, yeah?"

"Damn right! Follow me. We have their location." Then the guard turned to Simone. "Fear not, young lady. This is an important day for justice."

The guard bolted down the street. Danny followed a moment after. Simone watched their figures until they dwindled.

"Gotta go!" she called inside. "Remember what I've taught you!"

And she ran after them.

*

Simone counted a few dozen guards at least. Some in heavy plate with two hand weapons. They were scattered around Helios' tents. Her heart was pounding in her chest, back pressed against a building wall. They weren't being underestimated.

Poking her head out, she saw some guards positioned on the roofs. They were loading crossbows. In the small plaza below, a guard -- high ranking, based on the amount of gold stuff -- was conversing with Danny. He was stiff as a plank, eyes wide.

Simone cursed. Danny wouldn't be able to take any real action against them. But he'd have to pass as a convincing guard. She'd have to warn those inside. They couldn't be caught. But a fight might hurt the children.

I have to take out the crossbownen, she thought. They're acting as sentinels. Simone felt like she was back in Parix, throwing shit at passerbies and stealing what she could in the confusuon. Except she was the one on the streets this time.

And bolts hurt a lot more than eggs. Simone turned and circled around the buildind. If she could sneak up on the ones at the back, she'd have to worry less about her own spine.

She reached the building. They had a ladder. Simone drew a knife and started climbing. She stoppedt at the edge of the roof, so her head poked just above it. The guards were staring down below, facing the opposite direction.

Simone clambered onto the roof and crouched. The guards didn't turn. She fell on her belly and inched forward, until she was an arm away from them. At this point, she rose to a half crouchm

One of the bowmen turned around. His gasp was cut short when Simone tackled him to the ground. She stabbed him twice in the stomach. The second soldier cried out and fired.

Simone used his fellow as a shield. She winced at the sick thud of the bolt in flesh. Then she threw the corpse with all his might at him. They fell in a mangled, blood trailing heap.

Simone bolted back down the ladder and into Helios' tents. She found the others awake and concerned.

"Simone?" Fiona said. "We heard a thud. Was that you?"

"Actually that was the bodies of some city guards," she replied, gasping for breath.

"What?!" the others shouted in unison.

"A snitch. They're here."

Andy turned to Helios, murder in his eyes. He started to stand.

"Helios is in much trouble as we are, if we've been found out." Leigh said. Vis groaned.

"What about Danny?" Fiona said. A horrified expression crossed her face.

Simone nodded, grimly.

"Traitors!" A voice yelled, from outside. "You are surrounded! In the name of the Queen I order you stand down! Surrender peacefully and no harm will come to you."

"They have archers on the roof," Simone said. "I took care of the ones behind us. Helios, take the children and go. Someone has to deal with the other archers. Aten. You're nimble enough."

Helios opened his mouth.

"GO!" Simone screamed.

Helios nodded and hurried to the tent with the children.

"Now we fight," Simone said.

Aten exited after Helios.

"We can't use our bending." Fiona warned them. "We'll get into a lot more trouble."

They walked out the tent, weapons drawn.

Outside stood the man wearing gold. He had two men in heavy plate beside him. More guards were in the back. Simone couldn't see Danny.

"Sheathe your weapons," the officer ordered.

There was a yell and a crack from a rooftop to the left. The guards were distracted for a fraction of a second. The group charged them.

The plaza became a bloodbath. Simone hacked, slashed and dodged. There were screams in all directions. There were too many guards. Simone knew this.

She could see Andy surrounded by four giants in plate armor. He held his cutlasses and snarled like a caged tiger.

"Fuck this." Andy flexed his arms and the ground below the guards caved, crushing them instantly.

"As suspected!" A voice called out. "Suppress the benders!"

Somebody threw something in Andy's direction. It cracked on the ground and released a dark cloud. It smelled foul. Even from a distance, Simone felt ill.

Andy himself was green in the face. More guards rushed him. He did his best to hold them off, but he was tired. One wrong parry and his cutlass flew from his hand.

"We have to run!" It was Leigh's voice.

"I second that!" Simone called out.

She turned and ran. The others were in tow. As she turned a corner, she saw Danny rush towards Andy and drag him to the ground. He whispered something in his ear.

Then she was too far away.

They ran until their lungs were collapsing and their legs on fire. Fiona was in the lead. Simone had no idea where they were going.

The sun had fully emerged when they stopped. They were silent for a while. Simone did her best to command her blood to drain from her temples, and her heart to beat normally.

The group rolled around in this state in an alley for some time.

"Gods damn it," Simone said. More blasphemy followed.

"We have to get Danny back," Fiona said.

Simone glowered.

"We have to rescue Andy. He's necessary." Leigh added.

"Danny will most likely be with him, or nearby," Stephan said.

"Prison break time?" Aten asked.

"Prision break time."

"Man, it's like I'm seven years younger." Simone said.

Tales of Separate Paths

Dawn’s Vale swept by in a nightly wind; the hills rolled and the stream coiled about the town like a sleeping serpent. Above these hills, watching over the vale was the Farrow estate: the cottage-like doctor’s office tucked into the wellspring of the river, windows darkened and doors locked with a note on the door:

Doctor Farrow has taken a leave of absence for an unforeseen time. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t still love you, though! ♥

Behind the cottage, nestled half into the cliffside that overlooked the town, was a larger home with twisted wooden columns ornately weaving into a dark ochre frame. At the late hour, one room was lit, though the light flickered back and forth.

A spin through the window; David pressed himself against the woman in his arms, her legs around his hips and arms gripped over shoulders, nails dug into rivulets of blood and mouth agape with gasps. The woman was slender and light with olive skin, fair dark hair that nearly touched the floor. Another gasp and she began laughing, nearly stifling it under her heavy breath. Nonetheless, David pressed further, half-alarmed that she’d begun laughing. And in an instant he stopped, muscles tense, lips burrowed into her neck, as drops of a thick water spattered on the wooden floor.

Chief Farrow slowly stepped back, as controlled as always, and looked his wife in the mahogany eyes. “Why are you laughing?” As much as it was an accusation, he smiled through every second.

Jenna kissed his forehead and eyelids, laughing breathily but broken. “You have the grave misfortune of having the two smartest women in Lordaeron in your family.” She rested her forehead on his. “Your sister knows more about the human body than any one person should know.” And she rested her head on his shoulder as he laid back into their bed. “And your wife is as perceptive as the moon herself.” A light kiss on his collar while she pulled the sheets over her hips with a shiver. “A dinner that you learned from that chef friend of yours in Crown Harbor. The walk by the stream. The flowers.” Jenna closed her eyes and clutched, softly, his black hair that had grown so long unattended. He only cut it before leaving town, if even needed, and she had seen the scissors in their bathroom. “And you bring me to our bedroom after you read Luke his bedtime story...and we lie here. You make me guess your next move while I know all along.” She turned his head with her hand and held onto his lips in a kiss that felt almost as sad and longing as her voice. “You’re leaving us again.”

David relaxed his head into his pillow and laid a hand on his chest, staring at the ceiling. “It’s Bart,” he finally let out. “The woman he left with was here to find something I was warned about.”

Jenna took a moment to piece together things she’d heard over the past week, even from Fiona before she’d left. All the while, she followed invisible roadways on David’s chest with her nails. “The woman who poisoned Dawson to take that stone from him.” Her eyes narrowed and she suddenly stopped scratching him. “The stone that I just realized is the same that nearly killed you years ago.” She peered up at him, frustrated. “You were lucky to have survived that at all, David! And you’re getting mixed up in it again? Where’s your sense?”

“People are seeking those stones. Those terrifying powers that so few have seen in centuries.” He grunted before pulling away, out of bed. “One pulse of energy from that stone brought down the temple city around my men. Not long after the incident, I was commanded never to allow something of that magnitude happen again.”

Jenna watched from the sheets while he peered into the wardrobe for pieces of his sentinel armor. She had noticed his demeanor earlier in the night, but it was so apparent in that moment. His body was steeled completely. His muscles were toned with resolve.

“I will leave soon, finish my business, and return before you know it.” He wrapped his groin, hips, and thighs in a mythril cloth. “I’ll be able to track them down within the night if I take Argo.” He paused, fastening a series of belts on his hips. “Tell Luke…” A pause, then he hoisted on his jacket. “Tell Luke that we’ll resume his combat and horse riding training when I get home.”

Jenna sat up, agitation clear on her face. “David, this is not how a father acts. Luke will not grow up with you and without you, switching whenever you feel a conviction to stop something that likely won’t even come to fruition.” She stood and fetched a neglige from the closet, then a robe for the cold. “This was fine when you left to save the queen’s daughter. We were young and without responsibilities. But times have changed. You have a wife. You have a son! The monarchy has plenty of men of your caliber capable of stopping whatever Dawson and his cronies are up to. We have only one you.”

David was at the window, back turned, sword fastened to his belt. “You’re wrong, Jen.” On the window sill was his wedding band, his badge, his scrying sphene. Jenna’s heart sank. “The monarchy has only one of me. The only man in history to kill the pirate queen. The only man able to survive an attack from the queen’s sister. The only man who will go to the ends of the earth to protect what he loves.” He looked over his shoulder. “My family. My country. My entire world is at stake.” His boots hammered on the floor as he approached her. A hand on her face, a kiss on her forehead. “I leave so that I can come back to a safer world. I fight so that I can stop fighting.”

Jenna was frozen when he left. When she heard the scissors in the bathroom. The door closing. The horse rearing for a gallop. When she watched him ride off into the night for the forest.

For the fight.

______________________

Bart and Carla sat on opposite sides of a campfire, the only noise coming from the skin-popping, sizzling, roasting pig above the flames.

"So, uh." Bart scratched at the back of his head, where a bald spot had begun to form a few hours after leaving with Carla. "Yeah, well.This is pretty quiet. Hm. Oh, maybe a question. Like. Uh." Bart glitched out, freezing for a moment before bursting out his next few words. "Why'd you bury your husband here?" He immediately shut his eyes, hoping that when he opened them it would have been a dream. For a moment he thought of waking up beside Fiona, and that made him sad. Bart did not like being sad, so he opened up his eyes.However, it was in opening his eyes that he became sadder, as the blurred sight of Carla reminded him of his assery once more. He attempted to shut them, making an odd series of fluttered blinks before he stopped and cursed at himself in his head.

"Are you alright?" Carla asked, raising a hand to cover her smile.

Bart kept his head down. "Normally I ask that after I say something stupid."

"You’re too harsh on yourself.” Carla stood up and took a seat next to Bart. “It’s a long story, but…” She picked a nail with the tip of one of her daggers nervously. “Okay, so stealing the eden stone wasn’t my first choice. I came here in hopes of finding something of Alexander’s.” She reached into her blouse and pulled out an ornate cross. “See, Alex was a seriously religious guy, and he had big dreams of reformation. He even started his own denomination of Cosmicism.” She sighed, stuffing the jewelery away. “His first church was in these woods…” She pointed the dagger in one direction, realized she didn’t know exactly where the church was, and sighed again. ”Somewhere.”


Bart raised an eyebrow. “He never showed you?”

Carla gazed into the flames. “Our love was--” She slowly closed her eyes, knees twisting together in her lap as she bit her lip with an unexpectedly sexual groan. “--Strong, but we almost always took separate paths. I had visited the temple with him only a few times, without him to guide me, these woods may as well be a labyrinth.”

Bart burst out in a laugh, slapping his hands to his mouth moments later. “Carla, you’re talking to the Head of Hunt here. There is no one alive who knows these woods better than me.” Bart rose from his seat and turned to Carla, offering her his hand. “Forget the pig, if we search the Hunter’s archive I’m sure we can pin down a location.”

She took his hand and perked up to her feet, crashing her ample chest into his. She slowly looked up at him, then blew a strand of hair from her face. “I should--”

“You should--yeah.”

Carla grabbed their bags and quick-stepped away from the campsite without looking back. Bart slowly exhaled the world’s longest breath before grabbing his axe and following her in a strutted run.

She stopped as they neared their earlier path when she realized, again, that she had no idea where they were going. “Frick,” she whispered as she blew her hair out of her face again. “Where are we going?”

“It’s, uh--” Bart turned until he could see through the treetops. “West of here.” He took her hand and a step, but then stopped again. “I left the fire roaring.” His eyes were wide. “It could burn down the entire forest! I live in the forest!” He whipped backwards, Carla’s hand still intertwined with his as he ran back.

The two broke through the thicket back to their little camp where he slowed his pace to a crawl in the darkness. The coolness.

The fire had been put out.

Carla nudged him on the shoulder. “Looks like a bear wanted to prevent forest fires, too.” She followed the stars with her finger until she found west, then led the way, leaving Bart in place.

“Yeah,” he exhaled, kneeling beside a boot print in the ash. “Musta been.” Axe on his back at the tip of his fingers, he followed her in a strafe.

___

“Yes, Gabe, I promise that my men have searched the house and, again, I assure you that there are no monsters in your closet.”

A voice coming from a stone in the man’s hand shivered a bit. “I may not be able to see your face, Casius, but I can tell when you’re being sarcastic! I’m very mature for my age, and my fear of monsters is completely natural from what I’ve read!”

“Kid, it’s good that you like to read, but one of these days you gotta get outta the shelves and ki--”

“Cassy, why do I hear water running? Wait, no. Running is incorrect. Streaming is correct. Very precise streams. Aqueduct-style...and you’ve been gone for how long?”

“I’ve been gone for eight days, Gabe. My mission should be finished in about…” He looked down at a prototype wristwatch and smirked. “Eleven hours.”

“Eight days! That puts you in the sewers of Celtincrown! Are the books accurate? Is the stone truly blue underground? Have you met the queen? Is her sister there?! You’ve mentioned her before, haven’t you?!”

Footsteps approached. “Gabe, I have to go. Read another chapter in your book and then go to bed. That’s an order, soldier.”

“Yessir.”

Casius stowed the stone in his bag and backed into the shadows of the aqueduct, crouching to listen to those oncoming.

It was a woman going on at several others. “Trust me, Fiona! Head into the SEWERS, Fiona! It’ll be as clean AS YOUR BATHTUB, FIONA!” The footsteps stopped. “I swear, Helios. MY BATH IS GLORIOUSLY CLEAN!” She swept her arm up, swinging a film of bilge into the man’s chest. “GLORIOUSLY CLEAN!”

The man sighed and walked forward through the tunnel. “We have very little option at this juncture. Leigh’s plan is impeccable. Hold on. This sector is unlit.” A fireball formed in the man’s hand and shot forward, lighting the torches on the wall, dying just short of Casius’ face.

The woman cocked her head to the side, seeing him, and then turned back to Helios. “And now THIS asshole!”

A second man appeared from behind the duo and peered over his nose (pinched). “There seems to be a beggar in our way, Fiona. Do handle that while I find a place to vomit, would you?”

Fiona narrowed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as Stephan’s vomiting echoed through the sewer. “Casius. Hawkeye. Bomberman. You have roughly nine seconds to tell me why you’re once again in my line of sight. After those six seconds, I imagine you can figure out how many pounds of sewage will crush you into your silent, lonely death.” She twitched. “Go!”

Cass’ voice broke into a sob as he slammed a well-placed bottle of hooch on the stone floor. He audibly groaned. “You...You k-killed my best fr-hic--iend!”

Fiona and Helios grew fawn-eyed. “Oh dear lord, Fiona, you broke his spirit.”

She backed away. “Oh hell no! You’re the one who, uh, did the, the chandelier!”

Casius wailed in hooch-sorrow.

They exchanged glances. In hushed tones, they discussed their next move. Then they nodded. “I’ll gather Stephan. You...buy his silence. Or something.”


___

“It may not look like much,” Bart warned as he parted the vines to his little alcove. “But believe me, this is where the magic happens.” He ran for the stairs while Carla took in the sights. A modest little shack that had crammed itself into the branches of an ancient looking redwood.

When Carla reached the top of the steps and entered his home, she curled her lip at the clothes, weapons and even assorted meats that decorated his floor. Carla navigated her way through the mess as if it were a minefield, finally finding Bart at the other side of an open door. He was sat at his desk, sorting through what Carla assumed were the archives, but looked more like a toddler had crammed a drawer to the brim with crumbled papers.


“What did you say the name of that, uh, religion-mabob Alexander started?” Bart asked as she entered the room.

“Giaian,” While Bart straightened out a handful of papers, she drifted off. “He believed that the church had strayed from their purpose.” Her body quivered as she spoke, her hands absentmindedly groping around her body. “Too affixed on the skies above to notice the humanity around them. He sought to bring the two together.” She scrunched the bottom of her dress in a tight grip. “To empower the people, and humanize the gods.” She looked back at Bart, a hard blush taking over her cheeks when their eyes met

“Woo.” Bart wiped his brow. “Sounds like a real, uh, feelo-sophic guy.” He hurriedly dove back into the papers. “There a few reports about some occult activity from a few years back, but I’m not seeing anything with a name attached to it.”

Carla moved so she could peek over Bart’s shoulder, scanning the papers he had set aside. Her eyes fixed on a tattered letter. The swirls of the calligraphy made her heart skip a beat. “That one,” She nearly shouted, grabbing it before Bart could even turn. She held it close to her face as she read, even sniffing at the ink.

And for a brief moment, the grave’s grip on her loosened.

“Alex wrote this.” She passed the document to Bart, though he still had wrestle it from her grip.

He mumbled the words of the letter to himself as he read, as if he was piecing together a puzzle. “This guy really liked his gold-piece words, huh.” He passed it back to Carla. “You mind translating it for a simpleton?”

Carla nodded, glancing through the letter with ease. A warmness radiated from her as she read, almost feeling Alexander in his words. She had to take a few reads to truly absorb the information, too distracted by the nostalgia. The near embrace from beyond the grave. “This is addressed to you.” Carla stated in hushed words. “He had heard about the unrest from what seemed like a cult, and wanted to invite some authority to ease any worries” She glanced up, looking at Bart with a fresh sprinkling of admiration.“Parts are damaged, but he listed straight directions. He is rarely so trustful.”

“Well, I do have the highest approval rating of any Head in the last twelve decades.” Bart leaned back into his chair. Then the stuff she said before the last part hit him. “Wait, what do you mean to me? I know I wasn’t the most literate, but I can read my own goddamn name.”

Carla raised her eyebrow. Bart took the nonverbal cue.

“Well, see, I wasn’t always the talented reader I am today. During my early days as Head, I was still being tutored and helped by David’s wife. Must’of, uh,slipped through.” He peeked at the document, reading along Carla’s fingers at the directions.

“It’s a bit vague, and some of those markers aren’t around anymore…” Bart paused, thinking the drama would be sexy. “This should be enough to pin it down.”

“Then whaaaat are we waiting for?” Carla swayed, spinning like a dancer toward the door. This time it only took a moment for her to realize the obvious. “You should go first.”

________________________________________________

“[b]Well What’da’we’gots’here?[b]” A voice boomed.

Bart rolled his eyes, not even concerned by any threat, just annoyed at the probably tedious interaction that would follow. His eyes glances briefly to the other side of the trees, where Carla had stepped out to take moment to herself. Seeing the church had flooded her of memories of Alexander, and she had ran off to take it all in. Bart had left standing awkwardly around, pacing around the entrance to the church. The doorway was carved into the cliffside, the worn remains of what had been two rigid pillars at each side, along with a series of crumbled rocky defensive walls.

The first of the enemies caught Bart’s sight, and he picked his play. A bit of panic took over his face, his hands rushing to the top of his. “I mean you no harm. I am but a humble bard. I have no great riches for you to take.” He faked a gasp of surprise, as if an idea had flashed to his mind. “Perhaps I could play you a song and you might spare me some gold?” Bart didn’t wait for the answer, reaching back to the grip of his axe while the Bandit mulled.

In one swift move Bart freed his axe and broke into a hard swing. The axe head thre our a smokeing fireball to the target. he ball erupted at the man’s feet, giving Bart a small smokescreen to strike through. With his axe tilted to the side, Bart swung into the mook’s head. Before he landed, Bart managed to land a gut punch, the body landing at his leader’s feet in a slide.

“You wanna rethink your choice here, kiddo?” Bart mocked, beating his axe into his hand.

“I guess I’m stubborn,” The Bandit snarled. He snapped his fingers. “Gus, Jess, Asac, get rid of this one-trick tiny horse.”

From the edge of the woods three more bandits emerged, their weapons a range of maces to clubs to actual nunchucks. Bart couldn’t help feel a rush of excitement, he hadn’t had a chance to add nun chucks to his souvenirs, even if they were rather basic. “You have anything a bit fancier?” Bart threw out,, triggering the trio’s rush.

“Not on ah- ’my watch!” Carla rolled out of the brush and rushed towards the closest mook. Her head was held low, letting her slide in. with her head held low. Her knives slashed up, digging from elbow to wrist on her enemy. His mace dropped from his hands. Before it hit the ground Carla ducked into another roll. She stayed low when she popped out, slashing into the thigh of her target from the back. The mace hit the ground at the same time the second enemy crashed to the floor. Carla doubted they had the willpower to fight through the pain of what, despite their size, were rather superficial wounds.

The last was a bit more special. Carla slid one knife away into her sleeve, a small shank filling the empty grip. Carla’s target had already turned to fight, but Carla didn't stay in his line of sight for long. She dashed to the side and took a sharp zag toward the enemy. A nunchuck went into the air to strike her, but Carla hit it away with a swing of her palm. With one hand on the bandit’s arm, she shoved the shank into his lower back. Within a second his knee buckled, his stance growing more wobbly by the second.

“That’ll cut off the nerves to your left leg. Don’t even bother.” She turned, grinning as she blew the hair from her face, along with a bit of blood splatter and loose skin. She saw Bart’s sombre look.. “It’ll heal, I swear.” She waved her hands out in front of her defensively, accidentally smacking the still staggering enemy to the ground. Face first. “Frick.” Beat. “Wait. Frick~!”

“I guess I have to put you out myself.” The bandit tried to keep calm, but his voice couldn’t help but tremble. He backed up a bit into the door, his hand reached for a hanging rope. On the pull, four kegs erupted from above, a heavy water fall covering the entrance path. The Bandit pulled a crude blade from his belt, and with a twisted jab the water rushed forward. A surge blasted toward Bart. The water slammed into his side, freezing over on contact, the tail end anchoring him to the ground like a chain.
Carla leapt in from behind. Her foot landed briefly on bart’s shoulder, before she took to the ice. In a sleek glide she rode it toward the Bandit like a bridge. She had closed the distance to a few feet, and went in for her move. She sliced up into his chest, first. Then, with a twirl, took him from behind. Two quick stabs into his back, leaving him staggering into the ground on his knees. Where Carla would normally expect a scream, or at least a whimper, she insead hear the Bandit laugh. The puddle of water around him rushed over his skin, a faint glow taking it as it covered his wounds. The bleeding slowed, his wounds becoming irrelevant in seconds.

The Bandit turned at the sound of running. The sight of Bart barreling towards him, a red-hot axe in hand, caused him to retreat backwards. A surge of water went out in defense, but Bart sliced it. The water turned to vapor on contact, leaving Bart a clear path. Behind the Bandit, Carla tried to go in for another strike, but the ground had turned into a sinking swamp, her ankles wrapped in the mud. Bart closed the distance, and broke his axe into the bandit’s gut like a drill. The bandit fell back into a wave of water, leaning into it from exhaustion. His blade struck out wildly, summoning a few tendrils of water. Bart’s axe too cooled to slice through the fluid attacks. The assault slapping at him as he retreated back, the Bandit’s full attention on him.
.
The Bandit’s luck was short lived, Carla had freed herself from the mud. With a powerful thrust, her kives pierced the cushion of water, and the Bandit fell forward. Right into Bart’s arms. Bart only shrugged before tossing the body away from the pools of water.

“Thanks for the hand,” Bart started. “But I had it covered.”

Carla smirked. “You mean like the part where he turned you into a human popsicle?”

“You think that’s the first time I’ve been iced?” Bart lifted his shirt up, revealing both his abs, and a patch of blued, black outlined skin. “Kaldir is a rough place to have a man stalk you.”

“Have you had a lot of admirers?” Carla joked, walking out of the mud and towards the entrance.

“Oh, droves of them,” Bart bragged. “So many threats to my life and well being.”

“Sounds like someone was spoiled,” Carla said with a twirl of her hair.

“Hah, I guess you could say.” Bart stalked back towards the nunchuck- mook, lifting the weapons from his unconscious grip. As he bent down, Bart heard a rustle in the bushes, the crack of a branch. He paused. It was too much weight to be anything animal, but he couldn’t get a good view--

“What are you doing over there?” Carla called over.

Bart snapped back, stashing the nunchaku in his pack’s pocket. “Picking something up for the old memory bank.” When he got to Carla he held them out. “Our first official fight. As a team, at least.” He paused. “I’m not counting the time when you poisoned me.”

“Did I ever formally apologize for that?” Carla asked as they entered the temple. The entrance was dark, spare a few crude torches from the bandits. The entrance was covered with hay stacks and tatter sleeping bags, a few sacks of pillages food and gold at each bedside.

“Not really, but it’s no biggie.” They kept going until they reached a second door. It was locked, a four digit sliding lock built into the gate’s lock. Behind they could see the much more polished architecture of the temple. The lock was covered in frost, bits of it bashed away from failed blunt force.

Carla shook her head, moving to the lock. In a few seconds she had slid the digits into place, the lock popping out and triggering the door to swing in. “The date of our little…” She rushed through the door, a few tears dripping off her face.

She paused inside, waiting for Bart to produce a torch--which he obliged by lighting his axe on fire. Carla stood in the center of the expansive chamber and pointed to a floorboard, then counted six over, then six down. Knelt over the floorboard, she pried the plank up with the point of her knife and sighed in relief. “I know what you’re thinking, Bart,” she called. “‘Carla, that was way too easy for a puzzle church!’” She grinned. “And you’re right.” She felt around her breast for her cross necklace and beckoned Bart closer so she could see. “The answer is never to have a man to die when logic and compassion can fill the gaps.” With a gentle nudge, the cross-armed god on the locket slipped off, revealing the notches belonging on keys. “I imagine, Bart, that there are only a handful of people in this world who could produce such things and unlock Alex’s secrets.” She grinned and licked her bottom lip. “I’m so glad I’m one of them.”

And in her haste to unlock the vault, she just barely heard Bart whisper behind her: Me too.

The words made her jump a bit, popping her lock a bit too early. The hatch raised up under her foot, knocking her off balance and into Bart’s arms. With the golden shine off the statue...Carla couldn't help but be reminded of Alex on the battlefield. In a rush, she picked herself up, dusting her clothes and heading down the hatch. “My turn to lead.” Bart followed after, having to cram his shoulders a bit to squeeze through.

The light from his axe seemed to echo in the chamber. Burning orange against pristine gold, the crystal shards along the walls. Nothing there was by accident; all a piece of art--or at least what Bart could process as art.

Carla crossed her arms and sighed. “This is definitely Alex.” She turned to look at Bart over her shoulder. “If, you know, the obvious puzzles and obscurity didn’t give it away.”

“No, no.” He nodded. “This is definitely him. Just the way he talked...and acted. And talked.”

Carla picked up a bottle of wine from ninety years prior and eyeballed it for a moment before stashing it happily in her bag. “So we’re looking for memoirs, art, letters to followers or partners...or me. Anything that puts us in the mind of Alexander.”

Bart looked over a pile of blank pages before narrowing his eyes. “You know, David used to get letters from tiny villages in the south asking for assistance because people had…” He paused, doing his best to measure collateral damage. “People had tried to bring people back from the dead.” He ran a hand over a page and found a drawing of a man, woman, and child with roman numerals over their heads. The man was first, then the woman, but the child’s was smudged beyond recognition. The woman looked incredibly like Carla, but she had the symbol of the Alchemist on her dress.

“It’s not unheard of!” She called from across the room. Bart covered the picture quickly.

“You’re right. You’re incorporating a sort of magic for it...which is what the people did, too, but.” He sighed. “Every incident involved what the suspects called a Soul Anchor...something that had so much of the lost person’s spirit in it that they thought it would draw them back.” He smiled. “That’s not what we’re doing though, right?”

Carla stuffed a small crystal necklace into her bag with a grin. “That’s exactly what we’re doing!”

Bart stopped immediately, turning to stare holes into her back. “Carla, we. I’ve seen the horrible things that happen when people meddle with death. You know what it looks like?” He cocked his head to the side. “It looks like DEATH.”

Carla turned to him, hands on her hips with that roguish look in her eyes. “Dear, you’re comparing me to backwater idiots. Those backwater idiots didn’t know what I know.” She grinned. “When Dawson and his company gather those four elemental stones together, there will be an unfathomable surge of life energy from the godwells.” She pointed a knife at him. “You and I will take these anchors. We’ll take his body. And we’ll have everything we wanted.”

Bart had long-since deflated, but he looked on, torn between heartache and sympathy. “They don’t know how to trigger the release.”

“They’ll figure it out.”

“Does anyone know?”

“If anyone had known, it would’ve been Alex. He spent lots of time searching for a holy place. Something obvious and grand.” She shook her head. “But he never found it. The scholars he employed at Dreamer’s Rest never found it. The Aviti Noir don’t know where it is.” She smirked. “Or at least they never told him.”

Bart closed his eyes, fists balled. He looked up at her, then beyond her, up the wall at the portrait behind her. “Carla.”

“Yeah, Bart?” A puff of hair from her face.

“You said Alex was a prophet.”

“He was. Always prophesying this and that.”

Bart pointed above her head. “Then I think he knew.”

Carla turned, dropping the golden beads in her hands. “My God.”

“Maybe he just ran out of paint.” Bart whipped the sweat off his brow. “Maybe that’s why there’s so much red.”

“I hope.” Carla muttered. She scanned over the tapestry, which took most of the right side and ceiling. To Bart it looked like a mess filled with too many figures and little details. It almost seemed to move as he squinted and wobbled. As if it was more than a single moment. Carla was much more gung-ho, scanning it with precision, only stopping when she found a familiar subject. She raised her hand to the bottom edge, stroking the dark paint over an old friend’s face.

“Son of a bitch.” Bart snarled behind her, eyes set on the same face. “Don’t tell me I’m going to be crossing path’s with that damn Hawkfuck again.” The flames on his axe rippled, threads of blue flames fraying off it.

“Hawkfuck?” Carla turned in confusion. “I’ve heard Cas be given a lot of nicknames, but rarely so crude.”

Bart nearly broke, his eyes stuck in a loop of rapid blinks and hard eye shuts. “You’re talking about him like he’s an old friend!”

“He is? One of my oldest.” Carla moved back towards Bart, placing a hand over his heart. “Seems like there’s an unpleasant history between you.”

“You could say that.” Bart spat on the ground. “Petty cash mercenary. Back when I was recruited by our majesty, Casius was hired by the princess’ kidnappers.” Bart snapped his fingers a few times. “Hunted us like dogs for weeks. I barely survived his seemingly endless patience[i].” His eye twitched. “He’d just sit in a tree for days, watching our camp. Not even doing anything, just stalling for goddamn time.” When Bart looked back up, his smile sent a chill down Carla’s spine. “My only regret is that I didn’t finish the job when I had the chance. Seeing him laying on the grass, bleeding out...I felt pity for him.” Bart spat again. “What an idiot I was.”

“Oh, totally,” she pipped, turning back to the tapestry. “He’s probably the deadliest guy I know. Or at least in the top three. You should see my [i]sister when she’s pissy.” She puffed a strand of hair from her face. “But no, Casius is quite nice when you’re not at the end of his gun.” She gazed over the faces on the painting.

“Did you have tea parties?”

“Kaldiri Roulette with vodka. Next.”

“Did that burn on his face ever heal? The one with the fang ridges.”

“Not since the last time I saw him, but we haven’t.” Carla took a breath. “Not since Lexy.”

The two of them kept their eyes on the tapestry, hands hanging only a few drifting inches away from each other.

The first quake was soft. Only a little dust fell, too scattered by the time it reached the ground for them to feel it. The second was harder, a few pebbles raining down on them.

Carla’s eyes went wide. “The chamber. The chamber must have been trapped!” She rushed for the desk, grabbing as many of the quivering objects as possible before Bart yanked her away.

“We have to go!” he shouted. “Those things will be worthless without you alive to use them!”

The echoing groan of crumbling wood above crashed through the chamber. Bart stowed his axe and hoisted Carla to the ladder, nearly pushing her along as he made a hasty escape. The rocks alongside the mountain began to give way, crumbling in pillars and mounds. The two stumbled through the abandoned church and out the doorway just as the entirety of Carla’s last piece of Alex fell to ruin. In the grass outside, she coughed out debris between sobs. She pounded the loam with her fist. She cursed. She pleaded for more time--not with the tapestry or the chamber or even the golden art inside. Somewhere deep inside Bart, he understood that she was pleading for more time with the one thing she couldn’t have.

“We need to get moving,” he whispered, putting a hand on her back. “There’s a harbor town to the south of here that can ship us off to Celesta. We’ll keep looking, Carla. We’ll keep pushing forward and holding onto one another. And we’ll survive. You’ll survive.” He stood again, picking up her bag. “It’s what you do.”

Slowly, and without feeling, she stood. Her fists were darkened by the mud caked on her knuckles. Water dropped from her face to the ground. “Bart?”

He looked up, almost feeling cold for the first time in his life. “I’m here, Carla.”

“I refuse to let you think less of me right now, Bart. Not while I’m crying. Not while I’m hoarding his things. Not while I’m broken. Those moments don’t reflect the person, Bart.” She turned to him and placed a hand on his chest. “What does reflect is the moment after. The moment when I walk away from this place.”

He smiled. He nodded and, if he was completely honest, he wanted to put his arms around her, to hold any part of her and keep her warm. And when she began walking to the south through the trees, he realized that he already was.

It was her heart.

He followed in a strafe after her, and cracked a joke about selling his new nunchucks for travel fare at the harbor.

Back at the church, as soon as their voices were out of earshot, the wood and stone of the ruined church began to shift, rebuilding in perfect replica designed by the man standing in the shadows of the doorway. Slowly, but without hesitation, he struck a match from his bag against his teeth and lit a torch.

The place was perfectly preserved, down to the open chamber door in the sanctum. Holding the torch in front of his face, David’s eyes narrowed.

Had it all been for nothing?

The sun began to set over the cafe, Aten’s table at the edge of the tinted light. Leigh had divided them into two squads for the break, to take the barracks by multiple fronts. Across from Aten Leigh sipped at what must have been vis fifth soothing tea, while Simone poured whiskey straight from the bottle into her coffee, and then proceeded to take a bottle shot instead. They had to wait till nightfall to go, Leigh insisted, despite Aten’s insistence.

“Even if I we didn’t want the night for cover, it’s a moot point.” Leigh pulled out a simple piece of a paper, with a blue glyph scribbled across it. “We can’t move until Fi is in position.”

Aten’s feet twitched in fits under the table. He was far too antsy to wait another moment to start this mission. The sooner they began, the sooner Danny could be saved. From both the prison and his toxic brother. Glancing at his empty glass of sweet tea, made only from the finest Naz-Ahir sugar cane, had reached it’s last sip minutes ago. Watching the ice melt had been dreary, and neither Leigh or Simone were the most engaging company at the moment.

“I’m going to do a quick scout.” Aten pushed out his chair, hopping out of earshot before Leigh could ‘approve’ or not. He stolled down the side of the large wall encompassing the barracks, keeping himself to the growing shadows. His head swerved to make sure he was unseen, before vaulting into the air to the first grip. It was a careful and rather mundane climb, Aten too fearful to show the most basic signs of his bending as he reached the top of the peak.

Walking across the peaked top like a tightrope, Act casual, he reminded himself, as he stood some twenty feet above the ground, taking a slow stroll towards the Barracks.

The security wasn’t strong, but it wouldn’t be a stroll through the park. It’d been a week since they had started planning, and Aten had circled the perimeter three times a day since. Every blind spot was like a mole on the back of his hand. From his seat, Aten could make out their target perfectly, the balcony on the third floor. Currently there was only a single guard on it, Aten glanced to the sun, clocking the degrees in his head. If only they had installed sundials on their security walls, Aten mused, it would make the guard schedules far easier to follow.

Aten grabbed the chalk from his back pocket, ready to start tallying the guards, but his eyes wouldn’t move from the windows. The only glances Aten had at what was happening inside, of what could be happening to Danny. It had been hard enough listening to Leigh list off all the scenarios they had to account for, including Danny’s possible death...but the true anxiety was from Aten’s own imagination.Of thinking of what lengths Danny would go to keep that bastard safe. “Where are you?” He whispered, reaching his palm out to the air.

Danny was standing around, really bored. He got tired of rock paper scissors being too easy and hard at the same time, and had been getting a headache deciding what counted as losing and winning when you play with yourself. Which, of course, made him giggle, and he got distracted thinking of dirty jokes. This train of thought continued for some time, interrupted only when he could not hold his own laughter and woke Andy.

“Y’know, I got one goddamn nice thing to do in this cell, Danny-boy. Wanna know what that is?”

“Sleeping?”

“Did I ask you to guess? Can’t get any fun.” Danny heard the sound of Andy’s throat growling, and a pitiful splatter of spit a few moments after. “But yes, it’s sleeping. So, since you’re the brat who put me behind bars, I’d expect some peace and goddamn quiet--ow-ah-ow.” Andy stopped, only letting out occasional whimpers for a few moments, followed by the sound of cloth tearing. .

“Did your hair get caught in the chains again?” Danny called.

“Shut up!” Andy yelled, accompanied by the sounds of dulled clanking. “How long are you going to wait for those sorry suckers you call a crew? You’re a Dawson for crying out loud! You should have this place crashing down on itself to save your blood!” “Hell, you should have been fighting with me back in the streets.”

“So I could end up in the cell next door?”

“What, you’re saying you don’t miss sharing a roof?” Andy let out another growl, this time followed by a fit of coughs. “I was always too soft on you.”

Danny shifted his weight around on his heels before peeking around the corner into Andy’s cell. He looked pretty messy. In shambles. Shambley, one might say. Could Danny make that a word? How does a person make a word, anyway? Questions for later. He checked the corridor they were locked away in--or rather, locked and guarded brother-to-brother--and nodded when he saw no other guards around. “You said I should bring this place crashing down.” His eyes narrowed. “Does that mean Leigh told you The Thing, too?”

Andy jiggled in his chains, but Danny imagined him turning a cold gaze on him. “What thing? That clock-wound tea-drinker won’t even look at the lower-class likes of me.”

Danny nodded. “That’s...well, that’s Leigh.” He suddenly felt that somewhere, someone was wondering where he was. With an arm outstretched. It was quite moving, really. “When Leigh was meditating in Helios’ house, they had a dream...or trance or something.” Danny screwed his face up as he sorted out the details. “It was about how mom got the Eden Stone. Did she ever tell you?”

“She was preoccupied,” he grumbled, “dying and whatnot.”

“True, it’s a little hard to tell secret stories when you’re dying. I’ve tried it before with Aten after you stabbed me back in Celtinshire. He says it was entertaining and all, but I don’t really think he got that it was supposed to be a scary story about werewolves in Blackrend.”

“The point, brother. I want it.”

Danny nodded. “See, the werewolves were trying to nab this girl from a local village. Really nasty guys and all. Didn’t wear pants or anything so you could see everything swinging when they ran. It was a real nightmare if you’re not into that kind of thing, which is something I have to say now because I met a guy once who was into that sort of thing and, well, long story short, I ended up doing a lot of running for him, but at least it paid well.”

There was silence. A whole shitton of silence.

“I was too easy on you,” he sighed again.

“Oh! Shit, sorry. The way mom got stoned.” He stepped in front of the cage and crossed his arms. “The power of the stone magnified her alchemy...Leigh said it had to be a hundredfold at least. She was able to bring down the entire Temple City on the sentinels. Probably a hundred casualties in one single blow.”

A whistle pierced through the door. “Shit, even in death Mom continues to astonish me.”

“Same,” Danny mused, far more softly, before shaking his head. “The point is that...that power is terrifying, don’t you think? What if someone with bad intentions got ahold of it?”

“Name one person who wants that stone who’s ‘evil’, Danno.”

“Do you really want the list, or should I just pretend that wasn’t a real question?”

Andy let out a tired breath. “Where’s the stone now?”

“Leigh demanded they keep it...and so I let it go.”

“You tellin me your crew is bossin you ‘round?”

“I wouldn’t use those words.”

“But you ain’t denying them.”

Danny shifted uncomfortably. “I...damn.” The toe of his boot skidded across the stone. “Simone can’t be controlled at all, so there’s really no point. Aten loves me and I love Aten, so I guess that would work. Fiona is in the same boat. Stephan doesn’t say much to anyone but Aten. And Leigh…” He grunted. This piqued Andy’s interest. “Leigh wouldn’t listen to a word I had to a say if anyone’s life depended on it.”

Inside, there was a small, unseen grin. “Brother, I think you’re smart enough to follow that thought to where it needs to be.” Voice deep, graveled, firm. “We’re Dawsons. We. Don’t. Take. Orders. The clueless and poor bow at our feet and we turn them into warriors and ravagers. For good or for bad, we are in control, and no mountain-dwelling, book-sniffing, hair-braiding anomaly can tell us different!”

Danny stepped back from the door. His breathing was short, unkempt. “We’re Dawsons,” he repeated. “Get some sleep, bro.” His back was against the wall. “They’re coming.”

The sound of rushed steps stirred Aten back to reality, the sights of Leigh and Simone jogging into his peripheral.

Aten swung off the edge, sliding down to meet the pair. “Guards are just where they should be, but our window is getting tight.”

“You’re ready,” Leigh declared, tossing vis staff to Aten.

“Always am. He tapped the staff to the ground, a jet of air landing him back on top of the wall.”Always will be, for Danny.” he whispered when he landed.

Simone swung a grapple up after him, she and Leigh climbing up the rope to meet him. Leigh flashed a few fingers, and the three slid down in unison, dropping to a crawl once they hit the ground. They made their way across the field, to the closest of the main building’s tower. Hidden behind the curve they got back to their feet, Leigh peeking around to catch a glance at the sentry tower.

“Go.” ve breathed.

Aten took off with a wind whipping breeze, clearing the distance between the tower in moments. He lept onto the stairs and hopped upward on a series of silent air cushions. Once he got close enough, he lept from the banister, tumbling into the side window. The first guard was eating a salami sandwich when Aten emerged, the deli meats and garnishes tossed into the air and raining down when Aten beat the butt of Leigh’s staff into his head. The second, blinded by lettuce, was helpless as Aten simply pinched a nerve to send him sleeping. By the time all the food had landed, and Aten cleaned himself off, Simone and Leigh had caught up.

“I don’t even wanna know,” Simone chuckled as she walked past a patch of wet, white sauce around Aten’s feet.

“Cut the chatter,” Leigh hissed, ushering Aten to hurry.

Simone blew a raspberry back to leigh, while Aten held the staff out in front of himself. With a burst of stellar energy, a pair of crude glider wings emerged, a pitch black silk forced into the wood.

“How did you get Stephan to part with his silk jacket?” Aten mused.

“He lost it in a game of chess,” Leigh mused back in ego, shaking vis self back to seriousness quickly after.

Or maybe he could just use that Sword bolt that he used back in the pirate fight. But Aang Glider...

Leigh and Simone gripped tight to Aten, as he kicked off the front gap of the sentry tower. A surge of wind managed to give them a wobbly stream as they took air, but the gliders were already creaking from the weight. Within moments they were crashing towards the balcony Aten managed to toss Simone and Leigh in front of him, their bodies crashing into the guards. Two birds with two stones, the guards fall and their landing cushioned, Aten complimented himself.

Simone took the throw with minimal stagger. With her one usable arm she grabebd her dagger, and in a single slice cut their throats before they could wrestle for control. Leigh starred deadfaced, cringed at the blood splatter caked onto vis face.

“Oh, like it’s the first time that’s happened,” Simone mocked, pushing off the guard corpses.

“Just, not as...smooth as I had hoped it would go,” Ve declared.

Aten floated to a landing on the banister above, already mid leap into the window when Leigh interrupted.

“One more time,” Leigh demanded as ve wiped the blood off. “Simone, you head down the west stairs, two rights and you’ll be at the guard’s sleeping quarters. I’ll take the south front, find a clear path to the exit. Aten-”

Aten was gone, jumping from the banister into the closest window while Leigh had strategized. It wasn’t like Aten needed a reminder, he had the simplest mission. Run like a maniac until he found Andy's cell, and hopefully Danny manning it.

The sequence went by in slow motion for Aten. Himself a blur as he zoomed around the halls, both guard and prisoner left dazed as Aten invaded their personal space before they could even register. Every face had to be checked. Aten continued his back and forth down the halls, dizzying even himself near the end as he spun and twirled around the maze of cells, stairs, and even bathrooms to be safe.

Ending up a few floors above, Aten found only a single hall, manned by a single guard. He rushed down, grabbing the guard by his shoulders and staring him deep in the green eyes. Aten shook his head, sprinting back down the hall, stopping a few feet from the door before zipping back.

“Daniel!” Aten nearly cried, dropping his weapons to tackle-hug his friend. “We were worried you may have been exposed, or dispatched else where--”

Danny pushed Aten away, kicking in the metal door of his brother’s cage. “Love ya too, Aten, but you have some work to do.” The other side of the door lead to a perfect sphere cut room. A series of odd, synthetic looking metal, almost vibrant in it’s gray, met in the center. Andy was held by these chains, stretched at each limb, and even neck, by the cables. His body was limp, but Aten could hear the faintness of Andy’s breathing from the echos of the room.

“I don’t have anything to bend,” Danny complained. “I think you may be able to break the chains, though.”

Aten nodded, twirling the staff up, the base of the staff going down the length of his arm, gripping it close to the head. His arm ran in a small circle, tracing the edges of each cable. The staff head started to cackle with energy around its glyphed rim. Sparks built in a circle, rotating around the staff, the speed building. Finally flying forward, the lightning sliced through the chains, Andy’s body cut free in a very anti-climatic second.

Danny jumped the ledge into the room, crashing into Andy before he hit the ground. The two tumbled into the far wall, Danny popping back up with a grunt and Andy over his shoulder.

“Now we just need to get him to the basement.”

Danny’s expression broke into exhaust. “That’s like…” He checked the map he had drawn on his arm. “Five floors away. And I think Andy somehow gained weight in there.”

“Help’s on the way,” Aten added, holding up a glowing glyph-pressed cloth. “How have you been?”

“Stressed,” Danny mused, setting Andy against the wall. “I was almost worried you had given up on me.”


Aten’s heart sank, words rushing out of him like a popped balloon. “I wanted to come sooner, but Leigh insisted-”

“I figured as much,” Danny cut, his voice grave. He turned his head to Aten, the worry in his friend’s eyes like a gut punch. He forced a chuckle, the laughter as heavy as the bags under his eyes. “ I’m just playing….Knowing you guys were out there was the only thing that kept me sane in this place.” “The halls start to feel tight after a couple of days. I’m dying for some fresh air.”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes too high just yet,” Aten warned.

“Ugh.” Danny let his head fall into the wall. “We’re using the sewers, aren’t we?”

“Oh come on, look on the bright side,” Aten cheered. “When was the last time we had some good sewer fun?”

Danny tilted his head, sunk in thought. His head lifted back up in a nod. “It has been too long.”

“Then feel free to get a move on.” Leigh added, appearing from what seemed like thin air.

Agasped, Danny patted his chest. “I’m glad you’re alive too, Leigh.”

“And I’d like for us to stay that way.” Ve tossed a one of Fi’s vials, filled with golden-red liquid, to Danny. “Get that down Andy’s throat, we’ll need him to standing for the last leg.”

Danny took the vial without comment, propping Andy’s head onto his lap while he poured the vial down.

Behind them, Leigh inspected Andy’s cell. Vis hands ran over the chains, twisting them around and testing their strength.

“I managed to shake the guards on my way up, but they’ll be waiting a few floors down.”

“If Simone hasn’t already gotten to them,” Aten added, voice tentatively hopeful.

Aten’s mention brightened Danny’s face, if only for a moment. “Simone...has it handled.” Danny declared. “She always does.”

Tracing the chains to the end, Leigh scooped the lightning-burnt goo pooled at the ends. “What are these things?”

“Nothing natural,” Danny called. “Andy spent the first three days trying to pull them apart, if there was even a spec of soil in there, he would have found it.”

Satisfied, Leigh unsheathed vis sword and sliced a link away, stashing it in vis satchel while glancing towards Andy, and Danny indirectly. “Could prove useful.” Ve strode back, pressing a finger to Andy’s neck. Leigh knelt down next to Andy, hoisting his legs over vis shoulder. “Aten, you take the lead until Andy wakes up. Danny, get the front, no need to draw this out any longer.”

Danny nodded softly, keeping his head to the ground as he heaved Andy’s torso over his shoulder. They lugged Andy down the hall in gangly spurts Aten held back, eyes hanging over the backs of his allies as they staggered forward. . Pushing against each other without warning, managing to walk on each other’s heels, even with six feet between them.

“Is it normal for elderly men to spend time in your city’s sewers? Or is that prejudiced of me?”

Helios dusted off a wall with a snort of flames from his nose and revealed P-49-MIN engraved in a lighter stone. “Everything is prejudiced coming from a rich blonde kid,” he cut--and then added, “but that’s none of my business.”

Fiona rounded the corner behind them before walling up the sewage into a frozen wall. “Casius will find his way out into the foundation in time. Are we timed properly?”

“We were primed to blow this baby prematurely, but thanks to Alex’s cleaner, we’re gonna be right on time.”

She nodded. “Without an alchemist, the plan is to force through with energy? Or erosion?”

Helios took a moment before looking to Stephan, to the amber wristlet on his left arm. “You wear a focus.” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve never...actually seen one properly before.”

Stephan nodded, holding his wrist out. “A family heirloom, as all good magical items should be. I don’t know the first moment of its history, but I know that it’s powerful enough to cut through handcuffs.”

Fiona casually raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, don’t mistake me. I have yet to be arrested. The handcuffs were on the ship during our journey here, and Aten insisted we try them in a game he dubbed The Naughty Beggar. I’m unsure, though, which of us was the beggar, though, because really, his clothes leave much to be desired in noble fashion sense, and it’s not like mine stayed on lon--”

Fiona shot water to freeze his mouth. “What were the rules again?”

Stephan eased back, showing his palms in surrender. With a snap of Fi’s fingers, the ice melted away.

Rolling his eyes, Stephan pointed at the wall. “Regardless, eventually we found that we did not have the key, so I melted them.”

“Your fire is that hot?”

“No.”

“Then how did they melt?”

“You feed the fire from an outside source. I carry that fire through my body and into this focus. It responds, and the power is magnified...with limitations.”

“The limitations being…?”

“How much heat my body can take before quite literally melting.”

Fiona pinched her nose. “So all these times you’ve used pyrology around us--”

“I’ve been restrained, yes.”

She groaned loudly enough to make an echo in the corridor. “I swear, you boys and your holding back! Do you know how many chains are in Danny’s headband alone? ALL OF THEM.” She crossed her arms.

“It’s for dramatic effect!” Stephan rages, his silk cowl twirling around him like a cape.

“Leave it to the women to do all the work for you louts.” She held out her hand. “Helios, will you feed him?”

“I don’t know how much he can take.”

Stephan snickered and produced a Grenado Rose from his cloak. “Then allow me,” a gentle toss and the rose exploded in the sewer, “to show you.”

“No.” Fiona stepped between the boys, placing hands on both of their bellies. “Harness a single flame on one finger, please. Both of you.”

They obliged. Fiona closed her eyes and felt her energy split into two paths, following the outburst of energy from the fingertip down the wrist, via blood vessel and cellular flood into the heart and lungs. She stopped her breathing to feel the energy.

Stephan looked to Helios with a raised eyebrow. Helios responded in kind.

Fi snapped out of it and gasped. “Okay, Helios’ is bigger. Let’s go.”

“It’s hardly fair to measure without foreplay…”

“The rules, Stephan!”

Muttering something about tanned, exotic fruit begging to be eaten, he positioned himself to the left of Helios, right hand open and left fingers pointed like a trigger at the center of the wall. “Please warn me before you just push it in--!!”

Helios pummeled flame out of his palm and into Stephan’s, where it was absorbed, transferred through his body. His eyes took on a brilliant orange glow before the energy shot out of his left fingers in an unsteady, chaotic beam.

“Focus.” Fi whispered in Steph’s ear, a wave of cold easing the heat pulsing through his body.

The focus around his wrist illuminated the sewers, more a spot light, with a force that felt too solid to be mere light. First the flames shrunk, as if clinging to a wick tethered to the wall across. Rough edges of the flames smoothed, the orange and yellows melting into the crimson flame at the center. Sweat pooled on his chin, teeth tightly pressed and a low growl growing from his chest.

Fiona pressed her hands to the sides of his face, icy mists filling his body. The power continued to grow, to concentrate. Stephan let out a roar in a sudden, knocking Fiona into a nearby wall as the barrier between the sewer and prison erupted in a clotted, sickly death-red.Or as Stephan would later name it: blood orange. Helios stopped the flow of power and generated a shield to absorb the molten rock. Fiona raised her head to see the finished job as Simone dropped through the opening and fanned the air, sniffing. “This is going on our top ten list of nastiest escapes in history.”

Danny followed her through, his brother in his arms. “I’d say it’s no worse than that cursed ship where all the food turned into poison and all the poison turned into food every few hours.”

Aten peaked out of the shadows. “Did I ever tell you about the time I was eaten by a Hippo-” His eyes landed on Stephan, who was hunched over, supporting himself on his knees. The smoke around them blew away as Aten appeared beside Stephan. “Are you okay sugar-cane?”

Stephan gasped. “Get these clothes off me before I hsmgsdjggmkfrrrrbl.” The paladin fell over into Aten’s arms, where the chestnut airbender blinked, looking up at the group.

“I’m assuming he didn't want to have sex down here.” Aten said, blinking between the group and Stephan.

“Sewer sex is overrated,” Simone and Danny said in unison.

“Aten,” called Helios, “take him back to my house and get him in a tub of cold water. He’ll be asleep for…too many…” Helios let a yawn slip, nearly falling himself before stumbling into Fi. “I could also use one myself.”

Danny looked at the four standing around Stephan, then to Leigh from the corner of his eye. “Alright. You all carried out a perfect plan, and now I’m taking point. Andy is a wanted man here, so Simone and I will get him to the sky docks. Aten and Fiona, you take the sleepy heads and get some rest.” They all nodded.

There was a moment of silence while everyone began dispersing, then a cough. “And me, Dawson?” Leigh approached from his flank.

He turned with Andy in his arms, shrugging as he walked back with Simone. “Figure something out. You’re good at that.”

Carla

It was hard to ignore the claps of thunder once Carla spied the gloam purple clouds broadening across the horizon. Webs of lightning splattered across the seascape and she wondered, earnestly, if it was a metaphor like Danny had mentioned back in the cemetery. All the same, she clutched the broach keeping her cloak tight across her shoulders and took long strides to catch up with Bart, who was haggling a man about a boat.

“Listen, guy. Ain’t nobody crazy enough to steer a boat into weather like that. You’d have to be crazy. A crazy person. Someone who is--”

“Crazy, yes. I get your drift, sailor, but there’s, uh.” He peeked over the old man’s shoulder at the boats heaving up and down in the bay. His face grew a bit pallid. “I don’t suppose you have a crazy person, do you?”

The old man picked up a crate from the ground and buckled it in his arms, nodding to the tavern. “Go talk to the bastards in there. Some of ‘em just got back from a trip to Halas, so they may just be itchin’ to get back out there and see, uh. Something not-Halas.”

Carla deflated slightly. “I suppose that puts the odds in our favor, then.”


The two strolled down off the dock, the water steaming above them as Bart held his axe in the air. Hardly a challenge to find, the noise of drunekn buffoonery guiding them once they got back to the shore. Once inside, Bart turned to carla, tossing his axe to her with a wink before he charged into the fray. He raised his hand, reaching out to tap the nearest shoulder, but found himself under a flood’s wave as hee looked upon the sea of people. Completely out of his element.

Carla stifled a laugh from behind, and passed him. Axe in hand, Carla climbed atop the closest table, knocking over a stack of poker ships (little boat figurines) as she steadied herself. Axe no longer in hand, Carla cupped her hands to her mouth.

“LISTEN UP.” The great axe crashing into the table to punctuate her statement. ‘I NEED A SHIP A-S-A-P. “

A few heads turned, fewer voices stopped. Even the game beneath her proceeded uninterrupted, only the already-folded player she climbed over bothering to speak to her. “You don’t get no attention with words, darling. Men of the sea only pay mind to action.” he paused. “Specially during a storm, when they got a nice cozy fire and some cinnamon whiskey in ther’ hand.”

A sly grin shot across Carla’s lips, her hands at her hips as she clutched her knife hilts. “Bart, mind turning the heat up for me?”

Bart looked back, baffled. “I don-” He followed her eyes, landing on the stew-pot at the center. “Oh.” He didn’t move.

Carla groaned and balled her fists. “Blow the stove up, Brute!”

“OOOOH!” He launched into a jog across the bar, nearly ramming his head into the stove before a flood of fire consumed the kitchen (and more importantly, a peculiarly brown and lumpy stew). The tavern gasped in unison as their dinner blew a hole clear through the second and third floor of the tavern, as well as a brand new bay window to the, well, bay.

“ALRIGHT THEN!” Carla stomped her feet and tapped the hilts of her stabbers. “I’m here, I’m a woman, and I want a gods-damned ship if I have to carve it out of your bones!”

The old man with the crate from before, who had taken a surpringly long time to arrive at the tavern with his crate, arrived in the tavern with a big grin. “Ay boys! I gots yer shrimp fer mah stew!” When he met empty, forlorn gazes, he looked to the bay window, and by extension the bay, and wondered where his kitchen went. “Where’s mah kitchen?!”

The boys in the tavern stomped their feet. “The bitch made the beta male blow it!”

Crate man groaned. “That was mah favorite kitchen! It’s where I kept my pot!” He spat. “Now I havta keep my goddamn pots in my bedroom like a fool.” He gazed up, spotting the hole in the ceiling. “That was my favorite bedroom! Now where’m I supposed’ta put mah pots?!”

Carla wagged a finger at him. “You took my ship away, I took your bedroom away.”

“And his kitchen,” pipped Bart.

“And your kitchen,” she concluded. “So you’ll give me a ship, or I’ll take your, uh.” She looked around. “What does he have left, guys?”

Bart held up a charred metal container. “What about his pots?”


“I’m not a complete monster, you Brutus.” Instead, she brought one of her knives from her hilts, turning back to the man, who had since abandoned his crate of shrimp. “I think I’ll take an eye. Need one for my collection.”

“Yeah!” Bart cheered, throwing his pot at the Crate Man’s feet. “Won’t matter where you keep your pots if you can’t see them!”
“Dammit. Someone give this crazy person, who I judged correctly with my good instincts to be crazy, a ship.” He paused, biting his lip. “Preferably someone who is also crazy themselves, so I may retain some shred of my dignity.”

There were enormous booted footsteps coming down the stairs, a dark-skinned man with incredibly lengthy dreads and a scruffy beard entering the room with his arms stretched behind his head in a yawn-and-stretch. “Shaaamus, I went to take a piss and couldn’t find the crapper. You didn’t say you were adding bay windows.”

The keep’s eyes went wide. “Captain! I, uh. I--” He swallowed a knot in his throat, then gained a strange amount of composure for a man who was about to lose everything he had, pots excluded. “I found a couple’a adventurers who fit your bill just fine and, may I say, Dandy.”

There was unexpected and unexplained laughter from the boys in the tavern.

The captain took a look at Carla, who was spinning a knife on one finger.

“Adventurers. Fighters? I like fighters and adventurers.”

“You do like fighters and adventurers.”

“And I haven’t had a good stabber since that Parixian girl jumped ship.”

“She looks like a mighty fine stabber.”

“She your new architect too?”

“That’d be the man holdin’ ma pot.”

“Humph.” The captain rolled his shoulders back and sauntered over to the table to meet Carla with his thumbs tucked into his pants. “Are ya fast?”

Carla bit down on her lip and smirked. “Only met three men faster.”


Dandy tilted his head. “And women?”

“Just my sister.”

“What about yer boyfriend?”

Bart grabbed his axe and dropped the pot on the floor, where it immediately crumbled into ash. “I am not a speedy man. But I promise not to explode your ship.”

“So two adventurers sailin’ into a storm...and they’re lovers.” He nearly clutched his heart in passion. “It’s a helluva tale, told through the centuries.” He crossed his arms and mulled it over. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AN9rbfvq1dA

Carla shot a glance to Bart, who returned a hopeful face twisted up.

“You should meet my crew. “ The captain rubbed shoulders with Carla, his eyes glowing cerulean. “Would you like to meet my crew?”

“I...would like to meet your crew, yes.”

“I charge a very special fee, you know.”

“I’m sure we can come to,” she slipped her dagger down the captain’s chest as light as a breeze, “an agreement.” His shirt popped in two, specs of fabric dusting the space between them.

The captain nodded, nudging her away. “Then to the crew we go!” He looked around. “Where did I put my crew?”

A hand shot up from the corner with a billow of clouds fleeing the room. “Where else would you put us, darling Captain?” The crowd parted to reveal three lively-dressed pirates on a back table. The man waving down the captain had embers circling his hand that slowly slithered down his arm and into his open vest, sleeves replaced by armored gauntlets.

“Ah, Jones. I hate that I lost ya in the first place.”

“Oh, sir. Things lost to us never stay gone long.”

The captain turned to Carla and Bart and nodded to them both. “We’ll set sail in an hour. I just still gotta piss.”

“It takes you an hour to….tinkle?” Carla asked, face bunched.

“I like to keep my rituals” Cap pretended to fire a bow.

“Rituals…?” The captain swash-buckled out the tavern as Carla’s voice trailed, left with the company of the newest strangers. One of whom was approaching her with a scroll in hand.

“I would advise against questions” Jones’ voice piercing the quiet confusion, leaning towards Carla from his seat. “As guests, Dandy is your captain now as well, and Dawson men do not accept insolence aboard their ships’”

“Except for their own,” A younger boy added, his foot pushing Jonas into his seat. “Now stop scaring our new friends, Jones.” He turned to Carla. “Dandy likes to call his less savory business taking a piss.” He prematurely rolled his eyes. “Always have to wash your hands after.”

“You should not be givin--” Jones’ words turned to gagged gurgles, his glance shifting to their third crew member, who’s twitch hand was held towards Jones.

“Take it down a few degrees, or your tongue is getting frostbite.” The member turned, the hood that drifted around her head falling back to reveal a ponytail of blond. “They should--I mean, you two should know ahead of time what you’re boarding onto. Were smugglers, so you won’t be the only dangerous cargo on board..”

Carla raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, we figured as much.”

The younger boy nudged in closer, rubbing elbows with Carla as he whispered into her ear. “Enough fire salt, eden root and old’ fashioned gunpowder to sink the Parix air fleet where it sits.”

Carla shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

The pirate-girl smiled, her hood floating back over. .With a twist of her wrist, a line of steam burst from Jones’ mouth. The two shared a brief glance, as if passing some imaginary talking stick.

“Good.” Jones started. “Because now that you know, you’re just as responsible as the rest of us.”

Bart chuckled, tremors running through it. “You make it sound like we’re being hunt--”

Without hesitation, the youngest boy pulled out a roll of posters, sliding them onto the table. The papers popped open, revealing four tattered bounty postings. One for each of the crew.

Jonas Murata
Crimes: Piracy, Smuggling, Mass Arson
Bounty: 100,000

Antoinette Moulin
Crimes: Piracy, Smuggling, Assassination of Royals.
Bounty: 150,000

Jadon Seas
Crimes: Piracy, Smuggling, Insultiing an Office.
Bounty: 20,000

Dandy Dawson
Crimes: Please Contact Local Authority For More Details.
Bounty: 500,000




“Well…” Carla took a long look at the papers, before turning back to Jadon, the youngest of them. “A bit of an underachiever, eh?”

Jadon scoffed, swiping the posters back. “Just wait, I may not be much now, but one day the Seas are gonna mean something to pirates everywhere.”

A sense of unison washed over the ramaing four as they nodded, none of them feeling like crushing the joy of the misguided boy just yet. “Right.” Carll finally verbalized. “I’m sure you’ll have everyone and their grandmother’s wanting you dead.”

“Exactly!” Jadon collapsed into Carla, resting his head against her shoulder. “You get me, babe.”

Carla bobbed her head. “Mhmm.” Slowly peeling away from Jadon. “Just give me a quick sec to talk to my, er, lover.” She ducked away as fast as she spoke, spooking even bart when she started whispering. “Bart, I don’t know how to tell you this, but we’re going to have to have sex.”

Bart froze in his tracks, the floorboards under his feet beginning to smoke. ”David owes me so much money.”

Carla shifted her gaze, choosing to ignore it. “Nooooo, Bart. Stay with me. We’ll pretend to have sex so we don’t have to leave our cabin.”

“How loud?”

“Does it matter?”

His voice flattened. “It matters.”

Carla shrugged, throwing up her hands. “I dunno. How loud is it normally?”

Bart looked off to the side, smoke billowing from his feet. “Depended on how soon we thought we would die...”

She raised an eyebrow, grinning, then whispered: “My favorite is when you both think you’re going to be buried alive in a sewer.”

“You’ve never been in a gryphon's nest, have you?”

Carla gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. “I’ve heard stories!”

Bart nodded, eyes wide with recollection.

She slid her arm under his and rested her head on his shoulder, turning back to the trio. “So...where is the ship?”

“Docked at the marina on the water,” Jones replied.
“...Right.” Carla couldn't settle on annoyance or embarrassment. “I mean, when are we going to head out?” She blinked, cutting in before Jonas could reply. “I mean, I know your captain said e would be an hour, but are we waiting here for him?”

Antoinette chair floated forward. “You know, you never know with Dandy.”

“So you just sit around and wait for him to scream for you?” Bart asked.

Jadon nearly hopped up in his chair. “Is pot-boy calling kettle now?”

Jones burst through.. “Don’t aggravate them. You know how much Dandy hates to miss a fight.” His cold eyes turned toward Bart. “We used to wander around, but he would get all stressed out and sad when he couldn’t find us.”

Carla turned toward Bart, recalling the time at the general store…”So, we just sit here until he shows up?”

The trio all nodded, speaking over each other. “Yup.”Mhmm.”Of course.”

Aten

The doors flung wide as Fiona stumbled into Helios’ apartment with the selfsame man on her shoulder. “Thomas! Boys! Turn on the showers as cold as you can get them! Stat!”

She slid to her knees on the bathroom floor, laying Helios out on the floor, unconscious as Aten did the same with Stephan. Her hand was on his nose, pulsing as much frosted mist into his lungs as she could, her ear to his heart. “His pulse is racing.”

Aten was already halfway done stripping Stephan before he pressed fingers to his boyfriend’s neck, taking a sharp breath in as he could hardly tell the space between pulse and recession. He found himself paled at the sight of his face covered in soot, as black as night and speckled with burn marks. Fiona, behind him, called out their moves one by one, but as the Ahiri exile removed Stephan’s underclothes, all he could think of was how little time he’d been given with a man who saved him at first glance.

“Aten, sweetie.” Fiona brushed him aside and hauled Stephan into the second tub. She brushed a strand of hair back from her face as she stared at both pyrologens, trying her best to be a strategist. She sucked in her breath.

“Freezing water is as much about air as it is water, Aten, so I need you.” She looked over her shoulder. “Please, focus.”

And he thought about how Stephan’s final sight could be Aten in the sewer. With his desperate eyes and burdens. The last thing he would see was worry. Aten looked at Stephan’s closed eyes, and took a breath before shutting his own. He traced a triangle across his chest, uttering a prayer in his native tongue. “Don’t let this be my last sight of him alive.”

With a breathe, the air in the room stilled. The steam around Stephan and Helios stopped curling, instead stacking upon itself, as if a pillar rested atop them. A pressure built around the room, not constricting, but slowing all movements within it. Fi turned to Aten, proud as she clasped her hands together.

The floor seemed to sweat underneath the pyros, the fog of the room channeling itself under them. The water crawled up around them, leaving them encased in orbs as the water began to glow. Streaks of bright blue surged through the water, their vibrance piercing through the dull of the fog. Ice formed above the streaks first, spreading out between them, the glow building as the ice paled around the pair.

Fiona seperated her hands, the extra water crashing against Fi and Aten as he spread across the room.

Aten finally opened his eyes, unsure how to react to the new sight. Pools of water flushed over Stephan’s faced, coming to a boil and vapor before Aten could get more than a glance, but the image stuck. The soot had been replaced by a pale-blue tinge, interrupted by the blaring red and charred blacks of his burn scars.

“I thought the ice was supposed to--”

“It is.” Fiona sighed. “By the time they melt through these blocks, they’ll have shed the fever and be fine. So long as they breath, the vapor should keep them from completely dehydrating in the process. Still.” She tossed a pouch to Aten. “Doesn’t mean we have to do the same.” When Aten didn't open it, she continued. “It isn’t water.”

“Oh thank Ra.” Aten tore the tip off, letting the red wine stain his lips as he chugged down a few gulps.

Fiona pulled a stool against the wall and sat back, fanning her face to keep the beads of sweat at bay. “I have to admit,” she half-laughed, “out of all the close calls I’ve called, your boy really gunned for number one.”

Aten wiped his wine-stained mouth with the back of his hand. “Who beats him?”

She stuck up a finger. “That gentleman would be my brother. And he wins only because he has, on six separate occasions, shown up at my doorstep by one mean or another, usually Bart, with nigh on every bone in his body broken.” She closed her eyes. “There was this one day, just about six years ago, when he was assigned to head the sentinels at this temple that used to stand guard in the valley below our village. So these robbers break in, right? And they slaughtered every. Single. Guard. Except him. But he was so close to death when the rangers found him that they had him in a body bag before I got to see him.”

Fi shook her head. “He couldn’t remember who the burglars were or what they wanted. The investigation got buried in the government. The temple was covered over with a landslide of rocks per orders of the scholars at the Rest. It’s all a really weird story with missing points.” Another head shake. “But it’s one that I think about everytime I see Danny or David.” She picked up another canvas flask from her bag and sipped at the tip. “I’d uncover that temple for him if I could. Rock by stupid rock.”

“Danny would do it if you asked.” Aten said, smiling for the first time since he had hugged Stepan in the sewers.

She smirked and clenched a fist in the air, making new waves of ice on the tubs. “Danny...would do anything for anyone if asked nicely.”

“Simone would disagree on that last bit.” Aten’s smile continued to grow. “For a career criminal, he sure goes out of his way.”

“David loved it. Always jump to his Danny stories at the table. How some knucklehead was trying to hold up an inn and ended up delivering a baby, or the time he was raiding a ship and ended up bringing his hostages to shore because they had the flu.” She took a long sip. “And most people would leave him bleeding out without a soul to take care of him.” The two raised their flasks in the air and took another swig.

Helios began to stir as they poured their drinks back, head sliding up and down as he wiggled against the slippery ice-pod he inhabited. “I told him to stop drawing on the ceiling….oh thomas is going to be in trouble...trouble…” His eyes widened, though his speech was still groggy. “Tell me you weren’t followed.”

“Oh please.” Fi slapped the ice. “You really think I’d be that sloppy?”

“This isn’t funny.” Helios flexed, disappointed when no flames came to break the ice. “Let me out of this, I need to make-”

The ice whipped across his mouth. “You are going to stay in this tub, and remember how many times I’ve saved your life, and how I am currently saving your life. Then you’re going to calm down.” The ice melted away.

“And I thank you for all those times, but it isn’t just my life anymore, Fiona..”

“Oh.” Fi turned to Aten. “Did he just full name me?”

“Sounded like it.”

Fi shook her head. “Heely, I love you, but if you start talking to me like one of those kids--”

“No, Fiona, you don’t get to play right now.” Helios looked up with an unfounded energy. “Not while I’m sticking my neck out hiding you. This isn’t some hobby or job, Fi, I have children under my care, alright? Every moment the Dawsons are around they’re at risk.”

“We didn’t ask you for--”

“No, you’re right,”Fi pressed her hand to the water while Helios spoke. “You didn't put a sword to my throat-” A rippled went through the water, the level sinking as Helios body was forced downward.

“No one interrupts me, got that?” Fi said, holding the water down. “We did not ask you for anything, Helios. You offered us shelter, you asked us to involve yourself with the kids, and you picked up your gear and joined the fight. Be angry, that’s your right, but if you push that onto me, don’t expect me to sit and take it. The fact is, you wanted this, and it bit you on the ass.” She pressed her hand down once more, the water forcing the breath out of Helios. “Understand?”

Collecting himself for a moment, Helios tried his best to hold eyes with Fiona as she released the pressure, but as his body returned to comfort. “You didn’t ask, but you knew what position you were putting me in, Fi.”

“Yeah,” Fi agreed. “I put you in a position to help.”

“She’s got you there.” A voice hung in the air. Helios turned to Aten with anger, which only grew as the jokester looked on as if nothing had been said.

Helios looked like he had crashed into a glass wall. “If you want me to own my choices, you’re going to have to do the same, Fi.” He sighed, a burst of steamed bubbled following it. Head thrown back, Helios stared at the ceiling. The doodle on the ceiling his focus as his temper simmered. “I got involved with the Dawsons to try and rush them away, but I do not feel comfortable with any of this.” He sighed again, but the water was calm this time. “Especially not your presence in it, Fi. We’re supposed to protect people, not follow criminals and set more free. Just how far are you willing to go for this Danny kid?”

Fi stayed silent, reflecting on her reflection when Aten’s words sent a chill down her spine colder than the ice she stared against.

“To hell if I have to.”

Both Helios and Fi turned to Aten. With his head lowered, only the tips of his sunken gaze could be seen. Helios opened his mouth, letting it hang agap as words tried to flow.

A voice floated through the air. “How adorable...the Ahiri convict thinks there’s a hell.”

“What did you say?” Aten’s head rose, his sunken expression risen with a new rage. “Do you truly have enough audacity to not only demean my friend and leader, but also denounce my faith and expect me to stay complacent?” Aten rose to his feet, the steam around them swirling into a stream around Aten’s hand. “Danny is on the frontlines of the fight he believes in. You? You hide away, lying to even yourself about your cause. Claiming to be the guardians of these children, yet when the choice came, where did you go? To their defences, or to get your fix of action?”

Helios ducked his head, trying to dodge Aten’s eyeline as his gaze pierced down from above him.

“That’s what you want, right, to fight again?” Aten maneuvered closer. “What about right now? Do you want to fight me?”

“No.” Helios lowered himself into the water, his whole body floating as he re-focused on the doodle above. The water around him calmed to a simmer, his eyes weighed down as he his gaze clung to the writing. “I want to protect them,” he said, a smile overtaking him as he words lofted through the air.

Helios trembled as he tried to rise from the tub, Fi holding him back as he looked Aten up and down “I do want to hurt you, Aten. To singe the smug look off your face and let your self-righteous devotion born with it. But I won’t/” He paused, voice quaking as he tried to hold eyes with Aten. “Do you want to know why?”

“Nothing would be better.” Aten said, his breath beating down onto Helios from above.

Fi pushed back from between the two of them, only glancing back from Stephan's tub. “I’m glad at least one of us matured,” she breathed as she turned away.

“Because I’m not sure, Aten,” His voice exhausted, a graveled husk.” I have doubts, I have contradictions. I have humanity. I don’t know. I don’t know why Fiona got mixed up in this, I don’t know why I put my children in danger, and I certainly don't’ know what your supposed cause is. Not that you seem to either though. Talking to me like I’m a threat, that I’m smehow responsible for making you stray off some good path. The only path. That you treating like an inevitable, even though you’re the only one declaring it as some destiny. Yet, not bothering to ask yourself why this is the destiny you want.”

Aten lept onto the tub, legs squatting on the edges as he lowered himself towards Helios. Aten’s mouth hung open, only anger flowing out as he started down his supposed ally. Their emotions weaved into the elements around them, the damp air bursting into a cloud of steam around them. After they traded their glares and panted breaths, Aten stepped down. He snatched Helios’ jacket from the ground, wiping the condensation from his face as he walked away.

“There is more to faith than following, but you wear yours as if it’s a blindfold.” The words seemed to float into Aten’s ears as he dried himself. For a moment Aten looked back to Helios, words of anger building in the pit of his chest, wrestling to escape, as Aten forced himself back to Stephan's side. Laying the jacket across the ground, he kneeled beside the tub, resting his head on the rim beside Stephan.

“You can wake him if you want,” Fi whispered. “I’ll-”

“You don’t need to be my peacekeeper, Fiona.” Aten said. “Helios spoke from his heart, and as brutal as the words may have been, for me there is no greater respect one can show.” Aten smiled.

Fi nodded. “If you say so,.” Fiona looked back at Helios, who was brooding with his head turned away. “But when you’re done putting on the strong front, come and find me. Okay?”

Aten ignored her, lowering his hand into the tub, he began to play with the water around Stephan’s chin.

Fiona reached forward, forcing Aten’s face toward hers. “Okay?”

Aten moved his head, barely enough for a nod, but enough to satisfy Fiona. Freed again, he continued to splash at Stephan, watching the pretty boy’s face squirm.

“Danny, don’t you think the shackles and blinders are overkill?” It was Andy in tow behind Danny, flanked by Simone and Leigh. He had insisted they remained composed like soldiers transporting a prisoner. And despite Andy being in chains, Danny couldn’t help but feel a weight in his chest. A feeling of dread. An intuition that he was being trapped.

Which could’ve been for a number of reasons, he thought. Andy didn’t really have a clean track record when it came to brotherly escapes. Leigh didn’t, either, from what Danny could piece together in his head. And Simone...wasn’t something he wanted to think about at the time.

Which really sucked, seeing as he always wanted to think about her. About how fierce and loyal she was, how beautiful and cunning. How decisive she was with cuts and runs.

But if a person needed space, he figured, that meant giving them space in your own head as well. That was doubly awful since Simone would’ve made a joke about there being plenty of space in his head. But she would’ve smiled while saying it. Or touched his hand in a split second the way she always did because emotions are hard. Every emotion every time. And Danny agreed. And he wanted to give her space. He wanted to give her anything. Everything.

And that included, as much as it tore into his heart, space.

Simone broke through the rain’s spatter and grunted. “Is no one else freaked out that no alarm has sounded?”

Leigh stopped in vis tracks and gave it thought. The others followed suit. “From my studies of Celtincrown’s militant nature, it wouldn’t surprise me if they wanted to keep quiet the escape of a convicted bender and his comrades.” A hand met vis chin as vis eyes closed in thought. “One may even suspect that the soldiers would be tracking said prisoner until they reached their destination.”

Leigh looked to Simone, then the pathway leading from the pillared citadel to the sky harbor. There were plenty of windowless openings above and throughout.

“I don’t read minds,” Danny said, “but I agree with what you’re thinking.” He tugged on Andy’s chains. “Let’s go, bro.”

The harbor was a sudden, overwhelmingly large space with no walls and no guard rails; almost a plaza in and of itself and flanked by airships big and small--the furthest down being their own, pilfered from the scholars.

Danny stopped and unfastened Andy’s cuffs with a quick burst of light that turned the chains brittle. Andy ripped off his blindfold and restraints, and held out his hand. “I know you’re picky about the hands holding your stones, but after the shit I’ve been through for this escape, I bloody well deserve to hold the prize.”

Danny nodded and patted his uniform for the stone, but came up empty. “I--”

“You were taken to the citadel, Daniel.” Leigh pulled the stone from a pocket in vis coat. “And I’d prefer, after this game of capture the flag, that I hold onto it.”

Andy grunted. “Rule forty-nine of piracy, L. If ye don’t trust a mate, ye don’t show that mate the map.”

Leigh nodded. “Quite right. And seeing as how our distrust is mutual, I think you can understand how I’m abiding by the code.”

“You’re not a pirate, you hair-conditioned book jockey.”

“Judging by your lack of crew, bounty, or body count, I’d barter that neither are you.”

Andy stood erect and put his hands behind his head in a stretch. “Ye know what? Fine and fucking dandy, L. Give the stone to the only pirate here.” He grinned. “Ye trust my brother plenty. Givvem the booty.”

Leigh looked to Danny, who smiled very softly, warily, and nodded. “I do trust Danny. I trust that he would never bring ruinous calamity to any part of the world. No city, no temple, no nation.”

Simone smirked. “That’s bold, given that we blew up your monastery and all.”

Leigh shrugged, allowing a small joke: “I never said anything about traumatic locales.” And ve handed the stone to Danny, pausing to look him in the eye as their hands touched. “I’ve counted nineteen on the path.”

“Twenty-one to the east.” They nodded.

Leigh hesitated, eyes closed, but placed a hand on the hilt of their sword. “We’ll do this however you think is right, Danny.” A pause, a vacuum between them, before Leigh placed a cold stone in his hand. “I trust you.”

“I won’t let anyone die.” He glanced to Simone and Andy. “No one dies. No soldier, none of us. Our body count will be zilch, and we’ll find a way out. Okay? There’s…” He stopped his gaze and landed on Simone. “There’s always a way out, if only you endure.”

The three nodded to him, and he held the stone up. A soft glow filtered through the rain, and the sound of boots on stone echoed through the open sky behind them.