Young Writers Society

"Is that it?"

The aged man standing next to her looked over. "The convoy comes in in three days. Our spy on the radio broadcasts intercepted the message this morning." He slid his hands behind his back and turned his gaze back out across the dewy meadow stretched before them, glistening pale silver in the moonlight. A dead, brown line had been cut through the middle by scores of heavy truck wheels, tracing towards the city lights on the other side.

The woman stared down the scar in the meadow grass. "And you want to take it."

"It shouldn't be that complicated. In fact, I'd prefer to stage something bigger, but this is what we've got to work with." Another man was standing further back, his arms crossed over his chest. His face was serious, as usual, but only made more somber by the darkness of the forest. "The steps we're taking towards our goal are far too small."

The woman turned around, glancing up at him with dark eyes. "Too small," she echoed quietly. "You'd like us to charge out, both of you. Our wrists and ankles are tied, there are no bigger steps."

"If we were tied up, then we'd start with freeing ourselves," the man said grimly. "And we should be doing that now."

The older man stepped back to the woman's side insistently. "We can't keep shirking risk. It's the price of our freedom now, you know that."

Her eyes flashed up to his. "And when the Teviran's hand falls? What then?" She looked between the two men, meeting their gazes. "No one will enjoy freedom when it comes as death."

"There's always going to be survivors." The man in the shadows leaned back against one of the trees, with a glint in his eyes that was clearly a challenge. "We just have to make sure it's us."



After a crescendo of unrest, both from inside and out, Misericord fell to the Tevirans from the northern border. In thirty-seven years, a slowly growing, hidden resistance hasn't been able to break the nation free from the iron grip of their tyrannical conquerors, but in secret more and more fighters are calling for stronger measures, while operatives and spies from Teviran are cracking down on anyone suspected of links to the underground. Soon, the resistance must either rise stronger than it's ever dared before, or be pulled down forever.

The eastern sky was a swath of black and blue pricked by the evening’s first cold stars. Under the dark eaves of her cottage, she jiggled the key in her front door lock and checked the knob. She slipped the key away into her blouse and pulled her cowl close. Silently, she turned, glancing frostily over the three, dark-suited men waiting along the walk. They followed her to a sleek car idling at the side of the road and two of them slid into the back seat beside her. The muted rumble of the engine shifted into gear.

Beyond the tinted windows, bare fields and the charred, broken remains of homes bombed long ago scrolled by. The car jolted onto an ancient cobblestone street and wove through the heart of a subdued city lit by posts glinting sickly yellow lamplight. In a large square, they stopped. The man on the woman’s right jerked his chin to the door and ushered her out behind him. She squinted in the last ray of the setting sun as she stood. Across the square, a hunched man in a threadbare coat shrank away into the dark door-well of a boarded shop with his broom. The woman’s dark eyes lingered on him. She glanced up sharply at her escort as she turned to the looming building spread across the head of the square.

With one suited guard ahead and one behind, she limped up the wide steps to the heavy oak doors of the Shanoa Minor House. She stared at the tangled faces and dancing figures carved into the wood while a soldier with a gun slung over his shoulder patted her limbs. He straightened and nodded them through the door with a grunt. The guards led her to an upper floor and a wood-paneled hall, to a closed door with a silver name plate. Another soldier was stationed in front of it. He stepped inside. They waited in silence. A moment later, the door swung open and the woman went in.

The office was musty, the panes of its wall of windows sticky with dust. The heavy desk in the middle was neat as a pin, but the cushioned seat beneath the windows was strewn with papers and spotted with ink. The woman looked it all over slowly with disinterest.

“Natalia! I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

“Less than usual. You must be in a hurry tonight.”

The thin, elderly man who had stepped out of an adjoining room tried to mask his sneer with a smile. He tugged the lapels of his suit jacket. “My business is none of your business, except in so far as you serve it.”

Natalia looked the man, Shetzle, over coolly. He was nearly fifteen years her senior and his narrow face of sagging wrinkles was even more pinched than usual. “I only said that you were prompt tonight,” she said, openly studying the fine black silk he was wearing.

He tugged his lapels again and smoothed his jacket. “Nevermind. Your report.”

She tipped her head in a small nod. “My report. Word from around the country is that things with the public are much as usual. No riots, no talk of riots, no plots to dispose you yet.”

“Feeling a bit lippy tonight?” Shetzle was busy scrolling through computer files while standing at his desk, but spared Natalia a warning glance over the monitor.

She paused and went on emotionlessly. “There are minor flares of rumors here and there, a few pamphlets, posters in the train depots, all usual things. There’s been a small up-tick of resistance talk in Nor’burn over the last two weeks, but I don’t think it’s anything serious. My rounds will bring me there next month and I’ll take care—”

“You’re going this week.” Shetzle pushed his computer mouse away and straightened expectantly.

She paused again. “It really isn’t an urgent matter.”

Shetzle waved her off disgustedly and came around his desk. “I’ll decide what’s urgent. Two weeks ago it was not. Today it is. I want you to take care of it now.”

Quietly, Natalia answered, “I see.”

Shetzle smirked slightly. “Not half of it really, but allow me to continue.” Natalia regarded him silently as he leaned back against his desk, gazing up at the ceiling as he collected his thoughts. “There are going to be some changes across Misericord,” he announced at length. “And change, you know so well, is a delicate business. The Teviran lords expect things to go smoothly because I’ve told them things are going smoothly—and that’s exactly how I expect them to keep going. I’ll be increasing the police presence in Nor’burn and all these other incessant problem areas, so if you don’t want to see more citizens arrested you’ll work a little harder to squash this resistance sentiment out of them.”

“What sort of changes?”

“They’ll be announced before the end of the month. That’s your deadline. These ‘minor flares’ are unacceptable, clean them up.”

Natalia felt the familiar burn of bile in her throat. “I’ll take care of it.”

Shetzle straightened with a sly grin. “You always do.”

He pressed a button on his wristwatch and a guard opened the door, filling the frame with his shoulders. Natalia pulled her eyes away from Shetzle’s face and turned, the guard stepping aside to escort her out. Shetzle called behind her. “Oh, and, Natalia—do this well and I just might be able to let that cousin of yours out of prison.”

Natalia hesitated in the doorway. She turned her head, not meeting Shetzle’s eye. With that understanding between them, she left, shadowed by Shetzle’s sentries.

A frosty night wind blew across the front steps as the heavy door closed behind her. The hem of her skirt danced around her shins. She stopped and scanned the lamp-lit square below. The old marble fountain gurgled quietly in the center, steam rising from its heated pool. In the shadows of a shop across the cobblestone, a motionless figure stood watching with his broom.

“Let’s go,” the lead guard ordered, prodding her shoulder.

She glanced sideways at him and pulled the hood of her cowl up. She kept her gaze on her flats until she was sandwiched into the back seat again. The car circled the fountain back to the main street. No one spoke. In the rearview mirror, she saw a second set of headlights bob around the corner. You were in a hurry tonight, she thought. Silk suit.

A hand turned the mirror slightly and Natalia was looking at the narrowed eyes of the man in the front passenger. She turned to the side window. She watched phantom shapes in the dark street flicker by past the barrel chest of her guard until the pale beam of the other car’s headlights slid across the shop fronts as it turned off onto the street that would take Shetzle to the old Council House. Unseen, a small drone was following him in the sky, she knew. Natalia let her gaze drift back to the front windshield and pushed her cowl down, brushing wispy strands of silver from her face with a steadying breath.

I always take care of it…

Finn examined the marker piece in his hand before turning his attention back to the setup on the table. Small tree pieces and pebbles were scattered around on either side of a gray stripe of fabric meant to represent a road. Three small trucks, like the toy cars he might’ve played with if he hadn’t been given toy swords instead, were positioned on the road, in between a stretch of trees and boulders. And on the corner closest to him, there were figures of people like the one he was holding, ready to be placed on the display.

He felt like a chess player, ready to move out his pawns, except this wasn’t a chess board in front of him. This was a battlefield, and he knew better than to consider it a game. The stakes were a lot higher than that.

Finn set the first marker next to a boulder, to the side of the second truck in the convoy and sat back in his seat.

“Don’t choose there,” Daya advised. “They’ll be visible.”

He frowned. “Truck drivers can’t see a lot of the road. They have blind spots, especially along the side and back.”

His mother shook her head. “There’s still three trucks that are going to be stopped, so even if the front truck doesn’t see them because they’re in the back and the second doesn’t see them because they’re to the side, the third will still be able to see them just fine.”

Finn rested his chin in his hand, with one elbow on the table as he scanned the setup. After a moment, he moved the figure to be behind one of the boulders instead.

“Better,” Daya said with a nod of approval.

“How tall are these trees?” he asked, picking one up absentmindedly. He set it back down immediately, however, when his mother shot him a look. She didn’t want him to mess up the correct position of everything.

“I don’t know their exact height,” she admitted. “This isn’t perfectly to scale, since all our trees in this model are the same height, though they’ll look different there.”

“If they’re tall enough and have dense foliage, we could have a few people up there.” Finn bit his lip as he took another fighter marker, staring blankly at it. “Of course, that isn’t very safe for them,” he added, wanting to take his suggestion back. The weight of responsibility wasn’t a comfortable burden for him.

Daya gave it some thought. “Not a bad idea, but since we only have the relative positions of the trees and don’t know what they look like, I think it’d be too risky.”

Finn nodded, starting to arrange the figures where they’d be covered and safe as possible. He’d already counted how many there were, but he did it again anyway. Sixteen fighters, hiding in the trees waiting to strike.

He wondered which one of them was him. Of course, that was up to his father to decide, since he would assign the roles after they made the plans. But one of them was.

“Got any inside knowledge who else is going?”

His mother thought for a moment. “Not really, just a few people he might want. But I believe he’s planning to assign Jay to the convoy too.”

“Jay’s coming with us?” Finn asked.

“I think so,” Daya said.

“I told him this morning he wouldn’t be going, even though he knows I am.” Finn sighed. “I guess I spoke too soon.”

“You’ll still have time to let him know after we’re done here.”

Finn nodded, glancing back at the map and resolving to get this done quickly. “Right. So, what do we know about this convoy again?”

“There’s enough weapons for eighty troops in the back of each truck,” Daya said. “If we get those, we won’t have to worry about ammunition and our armory stockpile for a while. However, there’s two guards in the back of each truck who can get backup if we’re not fast enough, so if we don’t get this shipment and they stop us, we’ll have a much bigger problem on our hands than a gun shortage.”

“Reassuring,” he muttered.

“You’ve done this kind of mission plenty of times,” his mother reminded him. “So has Jay. And your father’s going to be there too.”

That last statement was pretty obvious, since Rowan Chase always went along. As the leader of the resistance fighters, he seemed to think he needed to be there for every mission, no matter what kind or how small it was. Or maybe it had nothing to do with leadership and he just wouldn’t turn down a chance to fight. Finn wasn’t sure these days.

“Yeah,” he said bluntly, looking away from her and back at the fabric road. “And… there’s going to be something on the road that’ll make the first driver stop so we get our chance?”

“There’s something hidden that’ll destroy one of the tires as the truck drives over it,” Daya said with a nod. “We’ve already got it there, and the road is only for shipments this way, so there won’t be anything driving there before the convoy does later today. The road can also get rather rocky, so that’s what they’ll blame it on.”

Of course she’d have thought of that. His mother didn’t leave any loose ends in her strategies.

“Right,” Finn said. “So, is that all that’s left?”

Daya tilted her head towards the door. “I know you want to give Jay some warning. That’s okay, go ahead and do that. I’ll take it from here.” Finn wasn’t surprised she’d guessed his intention.

“Thanks.” He gave her a smile as he got up, but it was a little weak. His mother returned it and briefly patted his arm when he passed her on his way out, before she turned her attention back to the miniature scene of what was about to happen in a few hours— or what was supposed to happen. The gesture was meant to be reassuring, but it worried him a little more. She wasn’t often that affectionate with him without a good reason to be.




Finn found Jay in the room where the resistance kept their files. His best friend was sitting in a chair with a manila folder open on a table, holding a mug of what smelled like freshly brewed coffee in his hand. There was a map spread out next to the folder, and Jay’s finger was hovering on a point, tapping it distractedly as he kept reading.

“Are you doing research?” Finn asked, walking around to his side of the table.

Jay looked up, and his face brightened. They’d seen each other just a few hours ago, but his smile showed he was still excited to see him. “Just a little bit of work. Come on over, there’s space.”

Finn settled into the seat on his right, leaning over to watch what he was doing. The location under Jay’s finger was an old underground train station, which Finn knew had been abandoned since the war thirty-seven years ago. A bomb had fallen on it and it hadn’t been repaired since. It seemed a strange thing to be reading about, but the folder Jay had taken matched.

“Did someone give you a city history project or something?” he asked.

“If by ‘someone’ you mean the impulsive voice in my head that spoke up around 4AM last night, yes, I have received an assignment,” Jay answered, taking a sip of his coffee.

Finn chuckled. “Four in the morning? What were you doing awake then?”

In response, Jay tapped the mug and raised his eyebrows.

“Oh, seriously,” Finn said with a sigh. “You need more than two hours of sleep if you’re going to work in the morning, and coffee doesn’t count.”

“Two and a half,” Jay protested. “And it hasn’t killed me yet.”

“Didn’t I see you have two cups this morning already? That’s way too much coffee.”

Jay lifted the mug up and made direct eye contact with Finn while he took a large gulp, maintaining a perfectly straight face.

Finn rolled his eyes. “Okay, we’ll work on self-care when you’re a little less caffeinated. So, why are you looking at train stations?”

“Not just any station.” His friend tapped the eraser end of his pencil on a photograph that was attached to the file by a paper clip. Finn took it out and lifted it up to get a better look. The picture was of a stairway leading underground, but the area around it was taped off, and the entrance was partly boarded up. It didn’t look like anyone had needed to go to the trouble of all that, though, because the area looked intimidating, not to mention a little dangerous. “This was one of Misericord’s most iconic stations before it got bombed.”

“Teviran doesn’t care for Misericord culture,” Finn said. “It didn’t decide to repair it, especially since it’s got to be beyond restoring, let alone saving. That place has to be falling apart.”

“That’s what I thought, but I came across the rest of this.” Jay flipped through the folder, looking for what he had in mind. When he’d found it, he slid it across the table towards Finn. It was another set of photographs, but they looked very different from the first one. Finn frowned and leaned closer.

He could tell from the quality of the photos that they had to be about twenty years newer than the one of the entrance. The only light in the pictures had to be from the camera flash, but the details were still clear. One photo was of cracked, faded mosaics on a train platform. Another had a collapsed tunnel and deformed rails, with a gaping hole in the tracks. There was also a picture of a crumbling staircase, but it looked like you could still walk there if you wanted to.

“How did someone take these pictures?”

“Apparently someone went down there a few months ago, and they took a camera with them. They walked down those stairs, right past the boards and tape, and they had a perfectly safe stroll around a historic ruin.”

“That’s so crazy.” Finn shook his head in amazement.

“I know, right?” Jay grinned. “I think it’d be cool to explore sometime.”

“Oh, so that’s the impulsive thought you had early this morning? Wandering around a structurally unstable site that could cave in on you at any moment?”

“I’d have a flashlight!”

“Which is definitely a good protective measure to stop stone ceiling chunks from falling on your head,” Finn teased. “Who needs helmets and common sense anyway?”

“I’m not walking around with one of those plastic caps that come with flashlight bands,” Jay said. “I may lack some common sense, but I do have a sense of fashion. Besides, it’s not the pile of rubble it’s made out to be anyway.”

“You’re unbelievable and just a little weird.”

“Only a little?” He sounded disappointed.

“Fine, very.”

“Thank you.” Jay winked.

Finn laughed, shaking his head. “Have fun touring a deserted train station, I guess.”

“You’re still invited if you want to tag along.” Jay gave him a smile as he folded up the map and closed the file. “So, how was strategy planning?”

“Oh.” He’d almost forgotten that he’d wanted to tell Jay something. “It went as usual, I guess. My mother’s probably got it all figured out now.” Finn winced. “Jay, I know I said that you wouldn’t have to be going on this, but I was wrong and it looks like you are. I’m sorry I misinformed you.”

His friend’s smile fell all of a sudden. “I see.”

Finn sighed. “I wish you didn’t have to. I could try to talk my father out of it still.”

“He wouldn’t let me get away with that,” Jay said, a little regretfully. “I’m not exactly on his good side right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I tried telling him that you shouldn’t have to go on this mission.” He took a sip of his coffee, staring off at the wall. “I don’t think he liked that very much.”

Finn groaned, putting his head in his hands for a moment. “He probably wasn’t planning to make you go before then. It’d be like him to get back at you that way.”

Jay shrugged and nudged him with his shoulder. “It won’t be that bad. Besides, you’ll have some company other than him this way. Right?” His tone was lighthearted, but he could tell it was to cover up his disappointment.

“Right.” Finn tried to smile, but he wasn’t sure it was convincing. “We’ll just see how it goes.”

Even if he’d wanted to go on this mission in the first place, Jay would’ve been having second thoughts anyway. Rowan Chase had a bit of a reputation for wanting to rush forward with plans— he tended to take larger risks than many in the resistance thought was best. And now he intended to take them to intercept a convoy that he’d found out about only the evening before, with a strategy created just a few hours ago.

Jay trusted the work Daya and Finn had done, but he’d learned by now to question Rowan’s safety preparations.

He lingered by the doorway after the briefing with the group was over, standing to the side to let people filter out. Rowan would be leaving last, so that was how it was easiest to confront him. When Finn passed by, his friend gave him a serious, slightly grim look, guessing what he intended to do. There wasn’t time for him to talk Jay out of it, but it seemed like he thought it wasn’t a good idea.

Another thing Jay had learned was that Finn’s father didn’t like to be challenged on his decisions, but he’d decided to call him out anyway. He wasn’t getting off that easily.

When the room was empty, Rowan glanced up, just realizing that he was still there. He scowled, as if sensing his intention. “Yes?”

“Finn doesn’t need to be going on this and you know it,” Jay said.

Rowan’s frown quickly deepened. “We’ve been over this. We need people on this mission, and I don’t expect to pull it off with lower numbers.”

“You know that’s not what I mean,” Jay said, moving in front of the door a little more. “You could’ve chosen anyone more experienced to go, someone who really knows what they’re doing. I’m sure you could’ve gotten plenty of volunteers instead of forcing your son to go along with you.”

“How do you think fighters get experience?” His friend’s father narrowed his eyes. “They get it by going out there. He’s going to need it more than anyone if he wants to amount to anything one day.”

“He’s already quite something, thank you very much.” Jay heard an irritated edge enter his voice. Something told him that this would go just like all the other times before, but he didn’t know how to give up on it. Now that was something he had never learned. “And it doesn’t help him any if he’s unwilling. Why don’t you try not forcing him to do anything, for a change?”

“How about you stop making excuses for him?” Rowan was glaring now, and the familiar expression reminded Jay of someone else, just enough that part of him wanted to take a few steps back to stay out of range— but he stood his ground anyway. “Finn is leaving with us.”

“You’re not going to change the way he is,” Jay retorted.

Rowan gritted his teeth, and he knew right away he’d lost his patience. “You need to learn your place, Wilde. Maybe start by taking orders from your superiors.” He pushed past Jay and left the room without another word.

This is definitely the reason he decided to send me on this, Jay thought. Of course it wouldn’t go any differently than earlier today.

But learning his place wasn’t something he’d done yet either. He didn’t plan on doing that anytime soon.




Two hours later, the trucks were driving down the road.

There were three of them, just as they’d been informed. The first one was twenty yards away and still approaching. Jay was hidden behind a rock, next to Finn. The other fighters were all in their positions, ready for the ambush. They’d all been given guns, but a few such as Rowan and Finn were also wearing bulletproof vests; Jay was not. There was a shortage of those, and although Finn had been trying to get Jay to wear his, he’d always turned it down.

He was expendable to Rowan, but then so were a lot of the other people with him.
Jay could see the fighters tensing up as the first truck approached the trap, seemingly counting the seconds until it would stop. But no one moved yet.

Just a few moments later, he heard a slight pop sound, and the truck jolted a little as it came to a halt. The other two trucks braked quickly, barely avoiding a collision. Jay’s heart was racing. Had they felt the bounce strongly enough to realize something was wrong?

But the driver stepped out calmly, not seeing the people hidden just a few feet away. He bent down to inspect the tire, shaking his head as the guards stepped out of the back. Jay couldn’t see it from where he was, but he hoped there wasn’t anything left of the trap to be seen.

“Flat tire?” one of the guards asked, gun at her side instead of in her hands. That was a good sign at least.

“I think so,” the driver said. “Must’ve driven over a rough patch. Mind running back there and let the others know what’s happened?”

The guard turned back around, knocking on the side of the other trucks to get those inside to step out. To Jay’s right, Rowan held up a hand, preparing to signal them out. With a sinking feeling, Jay saw the safety of his gun was already off. It was about to get real.

They waited until everyone in the trucks had exited, and then Rowan lowered his hand.

The first gunshot went off, loud and sudden, but soon it was indistinguishable from the bullet fire that followed. Jay didn’t point his gun at any of the guards, or even look at any of them. Instead, he aimed for the tires of another truck, so that they wouldn’t be able to drive off and escape. He fired a few shots, then took a deep breath and tried to aim for another tire, but his heart was beating too fast and he was already shaking. He couldn’t stay still long enough to acquire a target.

Now that they’d gotten all they could have out of the element of surprise, the fighters were charging out of their positions for the next part of the ambush. The guards had recovered from their initial shock and were already pulling out their weapons. There was a ratio of about two fighters to one guard, but the Tevirans were better armed. They just had to count on their numbers being stronger than their equipment.

Where was Finn? Hadn’t he been right next to him a moment ago?

Jay looked around, briefly panicking until he saw him standing on top of one of the rocks they’d used as cover. His friend was drawing the fire of one of the guards so that the rebels would take advantage of the distraction. That was a risky choice, maybe too dangerous, even with the bulletproof vest.

“Finn, you should get down from there!” he shouted, not sure his voice would carry over the noise. But somehow Finn heard him despite it all. He glanced in his direction, and Jay just barely had time to notice his blue-gray eyes widen.

Something heavy slammed into him, and Jay was knocked into the boulder behind him. He winced as he felt the jagged rock scrape against his back. He’d lost his grip on the gun, which had tumbled a few feet away. Instead of dashing to get it back, Jay looked up. The Teviran guard who had made him fall was squinting at him. He was clutching his arm— he must’ve gotten hit earlier— and wasn’t pointing his gun at him yet. Maybe he’d decided shooting someone at this close range wouldn’t be pretty. Or maybe he’s realized I’m a lot younger than almost everyone else here, Jay thought.

Either way, he took advantage of the guard’s hesitation, and charged as soon as he got to his feet. The guard swung his gun at him, using it as a blunt weapon rather than a firearm. Jay ducked out of its path and quickly followed it with a kick to the chest. It would’ve been easier to hit the guard’s injured arm, but he hadn’t wanted to do that. The guard stumbled back and swung again, this time more clumsily, and Jay dodged it easily.

But now the guard seemed to have gotten over his reservations about shooting him, and he shakily pointed the gun at him. Jay dived out of the way on instinct, landing on the ground before he pulled the trigger, but the gunshot rang loudly in his ears and he couldn’t hear anything else for a few moments.

I knew I should’ve gone to see Diego instead of making my own coffee this morning. That was the only coherent thought he could focus on.

Jay rolled away from the guard, just in time to avoid the next shot. Pain flared up in his jaw— he must have scraped his face against the rocky ground. Jay pushed himself up with a grunt and slammed into the guard as hard as he could. The gun went off again, but the shot went wide. The Teviran soldier fell down, his head hitting the boulder he had been hiding behind earlier. Jay backed up, breathing heavily, away from the now-unconscious guard.

He finally had a moment to scan the fight. Finn hadn’t been able to intervene, being stuck in a combat of his own to draw fire away from the others, but he’d made it out safely and was now defending another fighter. Rowan was a short distance away, breaking into the truck in the back. Jay met his gaze for a brief moment, and the hard look in his commander’s stony eyes made him turn away quickly.

Maybe Finn had been right about Rowan wanting to get back at him. Why else had the rest of the fighters decided not to help him while he’d been facing down that guard?

The fight was almost over, though, and there wasn’t anything for Jay to do. There were only two guards left standing, and they’d be dealt with by the rebels soon enough. Jay turned his back on the fight and followed Rowan into the truck, feeling strangely numb.

It was stocked with weapons and ammunition, just like they’d been told. One of the rebel fighters had taken a gun out of a crate, running her hands along it and nodding in approval. “These are new models,” she told Rowan. “They’re in perfect shape.”

“They’re ours now,” the commander said. “They should be done out there by now. I’ll give the order for transport of our own to come in and take them away.”

Jay’s head was pounding, and he stumbled out of the truck in a daze, wanting to be somewhere far away. He felt someone brush against him and he instantly froze up, every muscle tense.

“Jay? Sorry, I didn’t mean to catch you off-guard.” Finn’s concerned voice cut through the blur. “Are you okay? Would you prefer not to be touched right now?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled weakly, leaning against his friend like he might fall over without someone to hold him up. “It’s okay.”

“You look a little bruised up.” Finn gave him a weary but understanding look, putting an arm around his shoulders as loosely as he could while still holding him up. “We’ll be back soon, alright?”

Jay nodded feebly, closing his eyes. All he could think about was how badly he needed to talk to Diego. He’d been starting to doubt his choice from a few months ago, but he was fairly certain he’d just turned out to be right.

Jason briefly touched a point on the map south of Nor'burn. "There it is. Number Seven station on the main track--they can't get anything east without it 'less they take the river." His eyes flicked up to his companions across the table and he shrugged one shoulder. "I've already worked it out, a few operatives, a few bombs." He looked at Rowan, hoping to reap some of the fruits of the commander's latest labor. "If we play our cards right afterwards, we can take advantage of their redirected shipping routes."

Natalia watched the two men's faces in the low glare of electric light. The hooded bulb over the center of the table hummed dismally and from somewhere within the headquarters' underground shafts, a cold draft from the world outside gently rocked it back and forth.

Rowan's usual scowl made it hard to tell if he was impressed or not. "I recognize that's an important location in that area, but it's far away from the capital. It's better to keep our forces concentrated here, where we can focus on the most important issues."

"Things are too hot around Shanoa right now. I think you shook the Tevirans up a bit with that last stunt of yours. I can hardly get any of my people close to anything sensitive." Jason glanced back and pulled his chair up to the table, going on as he sat back, his elbow propped on the armrest. "Anyway, there isn't another point like Number Seven. None of the other stations are so isolated."

"I can't travel there for this, not that easily. It'd be too suspicious. Besides, the resistance members in Nor'burn have a tendency to get themselves... noticed." Rowan's hard gaze flicked across the table to Natalia's. "They're less organized over there, and they don't take orders nearly as well. I don't have anyone over there that I trust well enough to do this efficiently."

"Not to worry. You may not be able to get there, but the police aren't tracking dead people," Jason said with a faint smirk, refering to himself of course. "I can be there by Wednesday with seven or eight of my own people, that should be enough I think." He glanced over at Natalia, clearing his throat faintly and letting his gaze rest on the table. "The commander's right though, things in Nor'burn have been getting a bit dicey. It might make this a little trickier."

Natalia drew a deep breath, holding back a sigh behind slightly pursed lips. She nodded. "Yes, I know. Keep things quiet. I heard it all last night."

Rowan let out a resigned sigh. "You cannot keep playing the dead person card," he muttered under his breath to Jason, who chuckled slightly, but he turned to Natalia without further argument. "How did your meeting with Shetzle go?"

Her eyes flicked to him and she pulled her cardigan closer. "Well, you're right--Nor'burn has caught his attention, and he's unusually nervous about it. I'm leaving before the end of the week."

"Well, then maybe you can help get my people in," Jason suggested.

Natalia shook her head. "No, this is tight. He wouldn't talk about what it is, but something's coming. He gave me till the end of the month to settle everything down. I think we should save any more big plans for later."

"How inconvenient that it messes with our newfound plans to take over a crucial trading point," Rowan noted, glancing at Jason. "Did whatever he had in mind seem to be only about Nor'burn, or on a larger scale? If it's a threat to the city, we may have to evacuate our members."

"No, the whole country. I think it may be something from Teviran, Shetzle left right behind me last night. My man trailed him to central command." She looked at Jason. "He also said he's increasing police presence in Nor'burn and some other places. So maybe we should work on getting some of our people out anyway."

Jason's brow had furrowed thoughtfully and he nodded. "Yes..." After a short silence, he said, "But I'd still like to go through with this," tapping the map. "If the Tevirans are anxious to have us in line then it must mean that resistance now would be especially troublesome for them."

The commander was silent for a few moments before he spoke with an indifferent tone. "If all those extra police members do end up arresting you and your group, should you fail and get caught, what are you planning to do? Show them a fake passport and hope your false identity is credible enough to make them let you go?"

"I doubt they'd be letting me go, but don't worry, I won't tell on the rest of you," Jason replied a bit impatiently. He stood though, losing any trace of sarcasm. "This is the best time. I'll take a few more people than I planned and we'll strike quick. If I leave tonight maybe we can even be there before the bulk of the police arrive."

Across the table, Natalia was staring at him. "You can't be serious." Jason sighed slightly before looking at her. "They're ready to cut any resistance down, on the spot."

"And when are they not?" he retorted with a sudden scowl. "We're always taking that risk, it isn't any different now."

"There'll be heavier retaliation!"

"Why should that be worse than whatever they have planned for the country?" Natalia pursed her lips, still meeting Jason's eyes. He jabbed a finger at the world above them, though he lowered his voice. "If they want us to lie low and take what's coming, then we need to fight it. That's the purpose of resistance. I'm not here to do whatever the Tevirans say."

Natalia stiffened and the room fell silent.

Jason's gaze faltered, his face slowly draining of its heat. "That isn't what I meant."

Natalia looked away without answering.

Rowan had been staring rather blankly at the map, a hand on his forehead and his weight resting on the elbow he had propped up on the table. He sighed tiredly. "Maybe you're letting today's success get to your head," he told Jason, sitting up again. "However, that did go well. We seized the weapons and didn't get soldiers called on us. There were some..." He paused, looking for a word. "There were issues with a few of the fighters, acting out, challenging orders. But I can deal with that, and aside from that, everything went perfectly fine."

Natalia brushed a stray wisp of hair away and looked over, her expression still a bit tight. "Who was challenging orders?"

"Any guesses?" Rowan said. There was irritation in his voice, but it wasn't directed at her. "It's those boys. One of them asked for the other to get out of the mission, not once but twice."

"Oh," she said softly, some of the tension easing from her manner. "I take it they both went anyway?"

The commander nodded. "They needed some discipline."

She met his hard gaze for a moment. "That's a rather hard discipline," she said quietly. "It is their lives afterall."

"I'll raise my son how I see fit," he said sharply. "And this is my jurisdiction within the resistance, not yours."

Natalia studied him briefly, relenting with a small nod.

Jason glanced from her to Rowan and lifted his eyebrows. "Well. I suppose we're holding off on the railway plans for now." He drummed the edge of the table with his fingers and stood, his chair scraping the bare floor loudly. "I suggest we all use the time then to rest and build our plans."

"Fair enough." Rowan stood up and rolled up the map.

Jason looked to both of them and nodded goodnight. "Until Friday then." He glanced to the doorway and murmured as he headed out, "I'll signal if it's clear."

Natalia nodded slightly and watched him go. She glanced at Rowan once more as she turned to take her coat from a peg.

"You'll be leaving after Friday, won't you?" Rowan asked on his way out, stopping in the doorway.

Natalia pulled her silver braid over her collar. "If I can manage it."

He nodded grimly. "Do what you have to."

She puased for only a fraction of a second as she was taking her scarf down. "I always do."

In a few minutes, a small bell tinkled in the hall, the signal from Jason that the street was clear. Natalia lingered in the doorway of the meeting room, listening to the shuffle of feet and coats and watching shadows play down the hall as men and women of the resistance trickled out. When things were quiet, she sighed to herself and turned down the musty passage.

The file room was at the end of a rather narrow hall that, like the rest of the underground portion of their headquarters, had been hastily finished with cheap, dark wall paneling and elaborately patterned red carpet remnants, and never touched since. Together with the bare bulbs strung at sparse intervals along the ceilings, the atmosphere had always felt rather suffocating to her. But then, that matched how this resistance work had always felt, and the air underground grew staler every year.

The door to the file room was already ajar, a wide beam of light stretching out into the hall. Natalia drew her hand from her coat pocket and pushed the door open, titling her head as she peeked inside.

She saw Finn sitting by himself at a table in the center of the room, reading glasses on, going over a folder. The file appeared to have a coffee stain on the edge, even though there was no mug on the table. He looked up when he heard the creak of the door, quickly taking the glasses off. "Ms. White-- sorry, Natalia-- it's nice to see you! I'd say good evening, but I don't actually know if it's evening or night." He cleared his throat. "You know, not much natural light."

She smiled gently and stepped in. "About nine-thirty now I think. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"No, it's alright." Finn smiled back and glanced at the folder. "Sorry about the stain, although that wasn't me. You're free to sit down if you're here for something, of course."

She made her way to one of the many file cabinets lining three walls of the room, glancing at the folder in front of him. She crouched at the cabinet and opened a lower drawer, running over the file labels with her finger. "What are you looking at?"

"Jay was looking at information about this train station earlier today, and I remembered he forgot to put it away. So I came by to do that and I ended up reading it too." Finn flipped to another page. "I didn't give it much credit, but it actually seems interesting." He looked back in her direction. "What are you up to?"

Natalia pulled out a few files and stood, leaning against the cabinet for support. "I have some work in Nor'burn," she said without looking at him. "These are just for brushing up." She laid the files on the table across from him and sat down.

Finn put his reading glasses back on. "It's not related to another mission, is it?" He sounded worried.

She shook her head reassuringly, finally looking up. "No, not this time." She opened one of her folders, slowly scanning a few pages. "Actually, I don't think we'll be having any missions like that for a little while."

"No?" Finn paused. "That's... good?"

Natalia glanced up with a flicker of a smile. "For the best. At least for a few weeks."

He let out a relieved sigh, his shoulders falling into a more relaxed stance. "It's good to hear that."

Leaning over to reach a notepad and pencil, she nodded a little. Instead of going on, she looked across at the upside down print and pictures in the file Finn had and nodded to it. "That's the Dove Winds Station isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. Jay seems to think it's not actually that dangerous and it'd be a great place to explore, maybe at night. That's not where he is right now, though," Finn added hastily. "At least, probably not. He told me he'd be elsewhere."

"I hope not," she said with a bit of a worried frown. "The station was hit pretty hard in the war. I doubt time's done anything for it."

Finn nodded. "I think so too. Hopefully he'll find something just as exciting that's a little safer."

"Hopefully," she agreed quietly. She turned to her work for a few minutes, skimming pages and marking down a few brief notes. At length, she glanced up at Finn again. "Your--father mentioned that you and Jay both went on this last mission."

"Yeah, we did." Finn looked down at the folder. He was silent for a little longer before he added, "Jay really wanted me to get out of doing it."

Natalia stiudied him and glanced down with a soft hum of understanding, then a halfhearted bit of a smile. "It's not the first time."

He shook his head. "It isn't. And like the other times, it didn't go great for him."

"The commander isn't one to let up much," she said quietly.

Finn was quiet for a few moments. He turned to another page in the file, but he didn't seem to be actually paying any attention to it. "I wish he would more often."

After a thoughtful silence, she asked, "Has he ever shown any sign that he might let it go? The tradition?"

"I've asked him to, believe me," Finn said with a tired laugh. "But he's still convinced it's in the blood."

"Ah..." Natalia nodded once and twisted her pencil in her fingers. "Because of your family's Gift?"

"No, not really. It's just been something we've done long enough that he wouldn't know what to do without it." Finn shrugged one shoulder. "For better or for worse, I haven't had any dreams lately."

"No news is good news, so they say."

A thin smile ghosted over his face. "Exactly." He closed the folder and set it flat on the table, coffee stain face up. "Do you need an omen for something ahead? Maybe whatever you're doing in Nor'burn? I can keep an eye out for those."

Natalia studied Finn's face a second, then gave him a small smile and shake of her head. "It'll be alright, thank you."

"Maybe I can just wish you good luck, then." Finn laughed.

She chuckled softly, looking down at the files in front of her. Good luck. Not for the first time, she had to wonder what that would look like. "Yes, thank you..."

The smile fell off Finn's face as his expression turned more serious. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Of course." She gave him a reassuring smile. "Afterall, I have been so far."

Finn met her gaze, a distant look in his eyes. He seemed to be lost in thought. Finally, he nodded and smiled back again. "Right." He yawned, rubbing at his eyes. "I have to get home for the night, but it was nice seeing you."

She nodded, the corner of her eyes crinkling. "Take care, Finn. Good night."

"You too." Finn stood up, pushed in his chair, and set the file back in the drawer it belonged in, waving at her on his way out. The sound of his footsteps echoed down the otherwise quiet hallway back to her.

Natalia watched him go, then hummed softly to herself through a sigh as her gaze grew thoughtful. After a few moments, she slowly looked back down to her papers, reading and marking notes under the hooded lamp.

With the evening hours getting late, the library was a much quieter place. Most of the people had gone already, and there were just a few people left browsing the shelves or sitting down with a book. Soon enough, it would be closing time, and then the library would be empty except for a few librarians doing their last tasks before going home.

Deserae's fingers left ghostly prints behind on the glass door as she pushed it open. A quick glance at the clock above the front desk informed her that she didn't have much time, and so her steps were more hurried than usual as she approached the librarian working behind the desk.

"Excuse me," she said cheerfully, leaning on the desk.

The librarian looked up, seeming to almost see right past her. But her gaze eventually focused on Deserae, and she smiled at her. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, actually! I'm looking for a book. Any book, really- do you have any realistic fiction recommendations? Preferably something a little bit older, but that not a lot of people have read. I know it seems like an odd request, and it's alright if you can't think of anything, but humour me, if you will?"

"Hmm." The librarian looked thoughtful. "Well, we do have plenty of books in a storage room back here that people have never checked out. I've never read any of them, so I'm not sure I can recommend any of them exactly. But if that's what you want, I can go grab a cart of them and we can look through a few."

"That would be lovely, thank you!"

"I'll be right back." The librarian turned around and went into the room behind the desk. She returned a minute or so later, pushing a cart with a few dozen books stacked up on it. "I didn't really look through them and just grabbed a few at random, but there's plenty more back there if these don't do it for you."

Deserae's eyes lit up with the approximate joy of a child in a candy shop. She took a book off the top of one of the book stacks and flipped through it quickly, before setting it aside and taking another one. "These are perfect, don't worry." She set the second one aside and took the third one. "Oh, my, you have this one in your collection? That's not fair, I've been trying to get my hands on one of these for centuries, and there's only two other copies that I know of. Both of which are owned by a very rude museum curator who won't sell one of them to me no matter how much money I throw at him. I may need to take this one for a little while..." She set it aside, but in a different pile than the first two.

The librarian squinted at the book in confusion. "You... recognize that? I've never heard of it."

Flipping through a fourth book, Deserae nodded distractedly. "Mm. It's one I've had my eye on for a while, of course I recognize it." She set the fourth book into her 'don't want it' pile and picked up a fifth one. "Gods and Goddesses," she mused. "Wonder if I'm in it. I'll be quite offended if I'm not- especially since the cover is him. If he gets to be in a book about the gods and I don't, I'm going to curse something."

She set the book on her 'want it' pile.

"...Is that so?" The librarian blinked, at a loss for words for a few seconds. "It... sure would be a shame if you cursed something, yes." She absentmindedly unstacked a few of the books into smaller piles so that more covers were visible, looking like she had many questions but wasn't sure how to ask any of them.

"Wait!" Deserae said suddenly, snatching a book practically right out of the librarian's hands. "... oh my," she murmured, looking at the title, then the author's name, embossed with gold on the cover in some kind of flowing script that was nearly impossible to read. "Wintermere... another quite special book." Apparently forgetting all about the rest of the books on the cart, she flipped to the first page and fell silent, scanning the page quickly with a half-smile tugging at her lips.

Now this was an interesting mystery. This was definitely her book - written by her, that is - but she didn't remember writing it. Of course, she didn't remember a lot of things, but she felt like she'd remember writing a book. Perhaps this book was written by some future version of her, which raised the questions of when, how, and why? And most importantly, how did it get to now?

"I didn't know we had this many special books in the back room," the librarian said, sounding perplexed. "Should I be shelving them or something?"

"Oh, please don't," Deserae said absently. "I shudder to think of the damage the general public would do to these books."

"Right," the librarian said slowly. "That one does appear to be in fragile condition. What's it called?"

Deserae closed the book and examined the cover. "We Live in the Ashes," she replied.

"I haven't heard of it. Hopefully it's realistic fiction, like you wanted."

"Mm. Looks like it's set in this universe, actually, so I don't think you can get that much more realistic. Unless there's suddenly dragons halfway through. I have a few books like that- they start out realistic, then go off the rails. It's fun, but not what I'm looking for."

The librarian nodded. "You're planning to read that one, then?"

"Oh, absolutely. I'll take those other two as well, of course, but I think this one is what I'm most excited about."

She glanced at the small pile of two books, then the one Deserae was holding. "I think those two are in good enough shape to check out, but the other one looks like it's barely holding itself together. You can still read it, but you'll just need to stop by for it without taking it home. None of these are exactly in demand, so you shouldn't have to worry about late fees and due dates at least."

Deserae looked down at the book for a moment, then looked back up. "Y'know," she started carefully, "books in this bad of condition are usually just... thrown out or given away by the library. And if it's not in high demand, that increases the reasons to get rid of it, right? You don't want to keep a book like this, surely, so how about I simply take it off your hands?" She flashed the librarian a blinding smile. "Please?"

The librarian raised her eyebrows. "Uhhhh... I thought you said it was... special, for whatever reason, and we try not to get rid of... special books."

"It was worth a try," Deserae said, without losing her smile. "Alright. I'll read it in the library, then."

"Have you got a library account with us?"

"... one second." Deserae pulled her wallet out of her pocket and opened it, flipping through her cards quickly and praying that the librarian wasn't paying close enough attention to see all the library cards from places that - to the librarian's knowledge - didn't actually exist. "Damn. Doesn't look like it."

"That's okay," the librarian said in a friendly tone. "We can set you up for free."

"Lovely. Let's get to it, then-" Deserae glanced at the clock. "-it's almost time to wrap this up and for me to get home."

The librarian, who seemed to have lost track of time entirely, glanced at the clock in surprise. "...So it is." She stepped back behind the desk. "Okay, getting you a library card first of all. What's your name?"

"Deserae Wintermere."

The librarian smiled. "Oh, is that a family member's book you want to read? Your grandmother's, maybe? How sweet." She typed in the name, getting it wrong a few times before she figured out the spelling. Once it was in the database, she scanned a new library card, then handed it over to Deserae. "There you go."

"Thank you!" Deserae said, tucking the card into her wallet and returning it to her pocket. "Can't believe I didn't have one of those before. I've lived here long enough that I should have one."

The librarian looked her over, no doubt thinking she couldn't be any older than a college student. "...Right." A few moments of silence went by, then she cleared her throat. "Sorry, I forgot. Was there something else you wanted me to do for you?"

"I think all I need now is to check out these two books," Deserae said, setting the book she wasn't allowed to check out down and picking up the two she would be taking.

"Oh, yes. Sorry about that." The librarian shook her head as if to clear it, then picked up the books. No one had put barcodes on the back of them, thinking that the books would live their entire lives in the back of a dark room, so she had to search for them in the system. The process took longer than a simple scan would have, but the task got done eventually. "Congratulations, you now have your first books checked out."

"I'm going to go home and celebrate with cake now," Deserae said, completely straight-faced. "This is truly a momentous occasion." She picked up her books and gave one last, longing look at We Live in the Ashes. "I'll be back," she promised the book quietly before looking up at the librarian. "Well. Have a good night!"

She nodded. "You too. Oh, and you can ask for me to find this again for you whenever you stop by." She patted the book's cover.

"Alright- what's your name, then?"

"My name's Diana. I forgot..." Diana looked down at her shirt. "...to wear my name tag today."

Deserae shrugged. "Oh well. Nice to meet you, Diana."

"Nice to meet you too, Deserae." Diana glanced at the clock, which now indicated two minutes to closing. "Oh, wow, already? I had better let you go on your way, but I'll see you back around here for that book, won't I?"

"Of course!" Deserae assured her cheerfully. "I'll see you around!" With that, she turned on her heel and strode quickly out the door, the beginning of the library's "we are now closed" announcement playing in her ears as she left.

“The rebels hit one of our convoys.”
In the darkness, it was hard to see Eilanawyn nod, but Dominic had been in the Chei Dynami’s office long enough for his eyes to have adjusted to the black light.
“Casualties?”
“We lost two guards, and the rest were badly injured. One of them might not see the sunrise."
"See that the families of the deceased are taken care of. Whatever they might need to adjust to their loss. Send our condolences, as well." Eilanawyn lifted her wineglass to her lips and took a sip. The black illumination of the overhead light reflected off the liquid inside, but Dominic couldn't tell what it was. Most likely water or fruit juice; Eilanawyn wasn't much for day drinking, even in circumstances such as these.
"Of course. I'll have Avis see to it immediately."
"Good." She rose from her chair, moving across the room to look out the black-tinted window. "Was there anything else to report? I assume all our supplies were taken- did we lose anything important?"
"Only weapons. Not a significant loss for us, but…"
"Now they're in the rebels' hands, and that could prove to be quite dangerous," Eilanawyn finished. "Yes. See to it that any personnel travelling through Misericord is aware of the danger. Increase the amount of guards assigned to each convoy." She glanced over her shoulder at Dominic. "Lethal force is… inadvisable, but mistakes happen in the heat of battle, if you understand what I mean.”
“I’m sure the soldiers will understand just fine.”
Eilanawyn nodded and turned back to the window. “Of course, the real problem is how the rebels heard of the convoy in the first place. That wasn’t public knowledge.”
“Alessia’s suspected for a while that not everyone in our ranks can be trusted.”
“I’m starting to suspect she’s right.” She took a long sip from her wineglass again. “Perhaps it’s time to make sure everyone working for us understands the meaning of loyalty. Have Avis start running unobtrusive scans of our main system to make sure there aren’t any… undesirable messages being sent and no one is receiving anything they aren’t supposed to. Once he’s done that, move on to secondary systems. The Seros Literi Voithos can help work through their specific provinces, and monitor transmissions to catch any stray signals drifting toward Misericord. While that’s happening… keep any information that isn’t vital for anyone outside the Aristocracy to know within our circle. Drop bits of conflicting, false information to different people and see how the rebels react. Start by talking to those closest to us, then move down the ranks.”
“I’ll see to it immediately.”
“Have Alessia help you. Her katáskopoi can be trusted, as well- have them help in the search for our traitor.”
“Of course.”
Eilanawyn sighed softly. “We need to find this traitor as soon as possible. Our hold on Misericord is tenuous enough as it is.”
“We’ll find them. Alessia and Avis know what they’re doing; our spy should be gone in a month.”
“One can hope.”



The light-proof doors to Eilanawyn’s office hissed shut behind him as he stepped out into the tiny room separating Eilanawyn’s space from the rest of the hallway and the office building. Slowly, the overhead lights in the tiny chamber turned on, allowing him plenty of time to adjust from Eilanawyn’s black-lit office to the regular light of the hallway above. Still, his eyes stung a little as he started down the hall to the Seros Voithos' office. He tapped on the door and received a cheerful "enter!" from the occupant.
Avis was sitting on his desk, his perfectly comfortable chair left cold as usual, varied papers left neatly organized and ignored across the remaining wooden surface as Avis quickly turned his phone over, hiding the screen. Dominic could guess what he'd been doing, though, and he sighed inwardly.
"You can't play games at work, Avis. Save that for home."
"And good morning to you too, my beloved cloud of doom and gloom!" Avis replied. "What can I do for you?"
"Pass along some condolences."
"Did Alessia's plant die again?"
Dominic gave him a steely glare, and Avis sighed softly. "Yeah, sorry, that wasn't funny. The guards who died, right?"
"Their families are to be provided with everything they need to recover and adjust to their loss."
Avis nodded and reached for his laptop, his long, golden nails clicking against the metal as he flipped it open. "Right. I've already got the report and the families' contact information pulled up."
"Maybe make sure you've got Richter's family's info, too. He might not make it through the night."
"Damn."
"Language."
Avis shook his head. "The rebels are getting vicious. You've seen Bitch Boy-"
Dominic gave him another withering look.
"-Shetzle's reports recently, right? The trouble up in whatever backwater town it is? Lessi's worried."
"We all are. Shetzle's been ordered to take care of it, but Alessia's got men in there watching the situation, too. We can only pray it doesn't escalate to the point where they have to act."
For a moment, the only sounds in the room were the humming of Avis's laptop fan and the click of false nails against computer keys.
“It’s gonna escalate, y’know,” Avis said casually. “With what we’re about to do? There are gonna be riots all over Misericord.”
“Then we’ll take care of the riots, just like we have for the past thirty years. They don’t have enough men or weapons to fight back if we decide to use even a fraction more force with them.”
“I dunno, Dom. Desperate people do desperate things, and desperate things can lead to lotsa blood from both sides.”
Dominic sighed softly and crossed the room to sit in Avis’s chair. “I know. We all do. We’re doing the best we can.”
“I know you are, baby. I’m just saying that maybe this isn’t the best.”
“This as in our occupation of Misericord in general, or… this?”
“This. It’s gonna rile up the people, and with the rebel activity lately, maybe now isn’t the best time. Take backwater-town for example-”
“Nor’burn.”
“Backwater-town,” Avis continued smoothly. “They’ve always been restless, but if we can’t get them under control before this happens, there’s going to be blood. Our blood. They’ll be the most extreme, but everywhere else is gonna have a pretty strong reaction too.”
“Or maybe we’ll get them under control, we’ll get everyone else under control, and we’ll have a strong enough presence to keep anything drastic from happening.”
“If you say so, babe. Messages sent, people provided for.” He closed his laptop and leaned back, brushing his silvery hair out of his face, the light catching his green-yellow eyes at the perfect angle to make them sparkle brightly. “Anything else you need me to do?”
“Eilanawyn wants to run a debug and scan through our main and secondary systems.”
“She’s finally taking Lessi seriously?”
“She always takes Alessia seriously.”
“Mm.” Avis sat up straight and reached for his laptop again. “Well. I’ll get on that, then. I assume I can recruit my subordinates for this task?”
“Indeed.”
“Lovely.” Avis was quiet a moment, tapping his long nails against the laptop keys, sending messages to the far ends of Teviran. “Anything else?”
“That’s all.”
“Alright. See you at home, then, babe. Love you.”
“Love you too, Avis.” Dominic got up and walked around Avis’s desk toward the door, lightly kissing his husband’s cheek as he left.

Jay was always fully prepared to walk for a half-hour in the morning just to get some coffee. There were plenty of coffee shops closer to home, but none could compare to the Lighthouse. The Lighthouse Café, or just the Lighthouse for short, had a white and red color scheme on the outside and an anchor as a logo. The road it was on was just a short distance away from the waterfront, and it was known for its artisans. It was lined with shops where bakers, brewers and others sold their goods, many of which had been there for generations. For Jay, that meant there was some good coffee to be found here.

Jay opened the door, and a bell chimed to greet him. The smell of coffee and fresh-baked bread mixed with the scent of the ocean, and he felt better right away. The worker at the counter was turned away, but Jay could tell who he was. His dark hair was falling in his face from keeping his head down, focused on the espresso he was making. Since Diego’s parents were both Caladian as opposed to just one of Jay’s, his heritage was more evident, easily seen in his brown skin and dark eyes. His apron was clean, besides a few crumbs that must have fallen off from a muffin or bread roll.

“Welcome to the Lighthouse, what can I get for you?” Diego asked after he’d finished, turning around and looking down at the notepad in front of him.

“Can I get the usual, please?” Jay asked.

Diego’s head shot up at the sound of his voice, a smile spreading across his face. “Jay! I thought you might turn up for a morning coffee.”

Jay smiled back. “It’s hard not to show up. A certain barista keeps getting me discounts.”

“Shhh, not so loud. They can’t know I do that, or they’ll all want free coffee.” Diego reached over the counter at the same time Jay did to hold hands. His gaze turned concerned when it landed on Jay’s cheek, where a scrape from the day before was still visible. “Are you okay? It looks like something happened.”

“Can’t talk about it here.” Jay looked at the other customers out of the corner of his eye. None of them appeared to be listening or paying them any attention, but he couldn’t be that careless with resistance activity. “It’s fine, really. I’ll take care of it later.”

Diego shook his head. “We’ve got first aid supplies in the back, and that should get disinfected. I’ll make your usual drink and let someone else take over, and then I’ll meet you there, okay?”

Jay knew he was going to insist on this, so after a short pause he nodded hesitantly. “Okay.” He pulled out his wallet and set a few bills on the counter.

“No, you don’t need to do that. Discounts, remember?”

“That’s not me paying, that’s a tip,” Jay said, smiling.

With a laugh, Diego opened a door in the side of the wall that read EMPLOYEES ONLY. Of course, Jay had been in there plenty, so they’d been disobeying that somewhat. He walked around the counter and stepped inside. The door closed behind him.

Jay turned on the light. The kitchen was another room behind the counter that he had also visited, but this room was used for storage. Shelves lined the walls, holding coffee beans, tea blends, sugar, and all the other ingredients that the café used. Jay sat down on a wooden crate of flour that was large enough for two and waited.

He only had to be there for a few minutes before Diego came in and sat next to him on the crate, holding two mugs. “Sorry, there was this new drink on the menu that I wanted to try.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jay reassured him, taking his coffee and breathing in the smell of caramel latte. He ordered it nearly every time and hadn’t needed to specify. “What’d you make?”

“It’s this spiced tea they’re calling a harvest blend. Maple tea with cinnamon and cloves.”

“That sounds really good.” Jay took a sip of his coffee. He was definitely a coffee lover, but Diego tended to be more of a tea person. They’d had to make different drinks for themselves whenever Jay stayed at his apartment, but that hadn’t happened as often the last few months.

“The problem was, it was my first time making it, and I wasn’t really sure what I was doing.” He lifted his mug with a grin. “So this might be a little heavy on the cinnamon.”

Jay smirked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Diego laughed, but he set down his mug after his first sip and sobered up. “Is it okay to ask where you got that scrape?”

“It was yesterday’s resistance mission that I didn’t know I was going until a few hours before it happened,” Jay said, keeping his voice low just in case. “Intercepting a shipment of weapons, that kind of thing. I got caught off-guard by one of their soldiers, but that’s the worst of it.”

“I’ll clean that up for you. Anything else you have that I can see to?”

Jay hesitated. He hadn’t exactly come here for medical care, but he’d upset him if he didn’t accept help. “Maybe some bruises.”

Diego nodded. “There’s a freezer back here too. I’ll get you some ice afterwards.” His shoulder brushed against Jay’s as he stood up. Although the words I'm glad you're safe weren't spoken aloud, they still floated in the air between them.

Jay closed his eyes, letting himself relax as he let out a deep breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding. There was a strange ache in his chest that didn’t seem related to any bruises, and he knew it’d only get worse when he left.

He opened his eyes again when he smelled the familiar scent of alcohol wipes. Diego sat down next to him, their sides pressed together. “Can I do this?”

Jay nodded slowly. “It doesn’t need a bandage.”

Diego dabbed his cheek with the wipe. It stung, but he did it so gently that Jay didn’t even wince. Once it was clean, he pulled his hand away. “Okay, now for the ice.”

Jay watched him get up and open the freezer, shoveling ice into a plastic bag and wrapping it up in a towel. It wasn’t the first time Diego had taken care of him like this. If he had a more serious injury, he’d go to a resistance medic, but Diego would help with the smaller ones like this that Jay had the bad habit of neglecting.

He was pretty sure this was the first time it had happened since things had changed, though.

Diego sat down next to him again. “Where does it hurt?”

“I fell on my back, but I think it’s mostly here.” Jay pointed to his right side.

Diego passed it over to him. “There you go.”

Jay took it and pressed it against his ribs, feeling the chill through his flannel shirt. “Thanks. I’m really okay, but I do appreciate it.”

“If you’re going to walk all the way here while you’re still sore, I owe it to you to do something.” He chuckled quietly. “How are you feeling?”

Jay let out a sigh. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m frustrated with Rowan. He keeps making things worse for Finn, and I’m pretty sure that yesterday he told all the other fighters not to help me if I was locked in a fight.”

“What?” Diego’s voice immediately became more worried, and Jay reached for his hand again, holding it tightly. “Why would he do that?”

“He wants me to get off his back about giving Finn some choice,” Jay said. “I’m sure he doesn’t want me hurt or anything, and he must’ve thought I’d be okay. He probably just wants to teach me a lesson. He wouldn’t wish me dead.”

“Are you sure?” Jay saw doubt join the worry on his face.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I’m still you-know-who’s son to him, and even though he doesn’t have too much of a conscience, I doubt he wants that on his.”

Diego didn’t say anything, just kept his gaze on the floor and squeezed Jay’s hand tighter. Jay knew it was up to him to break the silence.

“I think I should come by more often.”

“Really?” Diego’s gaze fell on their clasped hands.

“Yeah.” Jay breathed out deeply. “I miss you, Diego, and I know that’s my own fault. But—”

“It isn’t,” Diego said, firmly but gently. “Not your fault.”

“I mean that it was me who made the choice, not you. I didn’t even give you any warning.”

He didn’t answer for a few moments. Finally he said, “I just don’t want to get in the way of the choices you think are best.”

“Yeah. I know.”

Yesterday, Jay had felt just a little more confident that he might have actually made the right decision. But his certainty kept wavering and right now, he was questioning it all again. How was a choice that didn’t make either of them happy better?

Diego was silent again, so it was once again up to Jay to say something. “How’s the family?”

A small smile flashed over his features. “They’re doing alright. Aly’s still doing well in school, and she put in a few job applications over the weekend. I think Juliana got another client that’s planning a wedding, so the florist business is still going okay.”

“That’s good.” Jay reached up to distractedly brush some hair out of Diego’s face. It was a habit he hadn’t quite gotten rid of yet. “How about your parents?”

“They’ve been doing a lot better since Aly got that scholarship. Paying for stuff has been on their mind a lot, and now they don’t have to worry about that as much. They’re just happy one of us gets to go to college, since they couldn’t afford to pay for me or Juliana. That much is good. But—” Diego blew out a sigh, considering whether to keep going. “Now they’re worried about something else, something newer, I guess.”

Jay paused, his fingers just barely grazing his cheek. “About what?”

Diego shrugged after a moment. “I don’t know, really. Just some rumors that I’m not that aware of. They always keep an ear on the grapevine.”

He nodded, pulling his hand back. “Right.” He could tell he was uneasy, but he didn’t think he wanted to say anymore. “Can you let your sisters know I wish them the best?”

Diego nodded. “I’ll be sure to. They, um… they miss not seeing you much anymore.”

Jay smiled sadly. “You’ve got a good family. I’ll try to stay in touch more often.”

“Want a hug?”

“Sure.” Jay leaned into Diego, who let go of his hand and wrapped his arms around him. He closed his eyes for a moment. Usually he didn’t feel so good about being touched, but he’d never had a problem with Diego doing it. Finn was the only other person that he was nearly always fine with doing that. “You smell like cinnamon,” he joked, opening his eyes again.

“I’m telling you, it’s the tea.” Diego sighed dramatically with a laugh. “The one I messed up.”

“Who said cinnamon was a bad smell? I think it’s good on you.”

His cheeks flushed slightly. “Stop talking.”

Jay smiled again and took a sip of his drink. The familiar burn of the coffee helped him stay distracted from the thoughts that were racing around his head. I miss this a lot more than I’d like to admit.

“Wait, are you actually done talking? I didn’t really mean that.”

“I know you didn’t. You like having me around too much to have me shut up.”

Diego laughed, but his face turned serious a second later, even a little sad. “You always talk like nothing’s changed.”

The statement caught Jay off-guard, and he took a moment to speak. “I don’t want everything to have changed. I was hoping that I haven’t done that.”

Diego shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s not your fault anyway. But I guess you always act just like before and it’s hard to tell that anything’s different now, because it’s almost like you’re pretending they aren’t. It’s difficult to have a reminder that even though things look the same, they aren’t anymore.”

Jay opened his mouth to say something meaningful, but all that came out was “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not on you. I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that. I really don’t want you to feel bad about for something that isn’t your fault.” The two held each other tighter for a moment before both letting go. “I don’t want to keep you too long, and I’ve got to get back to work anyway. But be careful, okay? You’ve got to stay safe.”

Jay nodded, and his throat felt tighter when he spoke. “I will. You do too.”

Diego searched his gaze for a moment before giving him his best smile. “It’s really okay, Jay,” he said. Jay knew that he meant it, but he had trouble accepting that it really was. All he was able to do was nod in reply again. “See you again in a bit?”

Jay brushed a few more strands of hair out of his face. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Before, this would have been the moment when they leaned in for a quick kiss, but neither of them did. With their mugs in hand, they both got up, and Diego held the door open for him. Nobody in the café paid them any attention when they stepped out. “Thanks for the free coffee,” Jay said, holding the ice pack to his chest.

“Keep it hushed,” Diego said, with mock sternness and a slight smile.

Jay laughed and headed for the exit. Before leaving the Lighthouse, he glanced back when he was at the door. Diego was watching him as he took another person’s order. They smiled and waved at each other one last time before he got back to work. The barista next to him was in the middle of changing the radio station. Jay heard the song switch just as he stepped outside.

"Your alarm's ringing."
Someone tossed a pillow at Kamea's face, startling her out of half-unconsciousness to full attention.
"God, Faye," she muttered. "Again?"
"Yeah, again, 'cause your alarm is ringing and it's annoying."
Kamea sat up, the pillow falling from her face to the carpet with a soft thump. She rubbed her eyes, trying to brush the exhausted blur from them. "You could turn it off for me, y'know."
"Then you wouldn't get up," Faye countered. "And you'd be late for work. And then you wouldn't get paid. And then we wouldn't be able to live here, because Abby and I don't make enough to afford this place on our own. So really, it's in my best interests to wake you up and let you turn off the alarm."
"Late for…" Kamea blinked quickly a few times, then glanced up at her roommate. Faye's orange hair was even wilder than usual, and seemed at least four shades brighter. Much too bright to look at this early in the morning. "Wait, what time is it?" She reached for her phone - which had fallen onto the floor - and pressed her thumb to the screen, unlocking it and turning off the quiet melody of her alarm. Faye really had no taste in music; her alarm was perfectly fine.
"It's only seven,” Faye informed her. “You know, the time your alarm rings every morning. You’ve got time.”
“Okay, now you’re making fun of me.”
“Well, maybe you deserve it. Now get off the couch.”
“Wh-”
“I wanna watch tv.”
“Oh my god.” Kamea got to her feet, a little unsteadily. “Ohhhh… Is it just me, or is the room tipping?”
“It’s just you. Maybe if you hadn’t come home at three in the morning, you wouldn’t be feeling like that,” a new voice piped up. Abyssosque, Kamea’s other roommate, was perched on the edge of the fourth landing in their spiral apartment, her expression much too cheerful and perky for seven in the morning.
“And now you’re making fun of me,” Kamea muttered. “Love you both.”
“Love you too,” her roommates chorused. Kamea sighed deeply and headed to the bathroom to take a shower and wake herself up.



“I made you breakfast,” Abyssosque informed her as she re-entered the main room that served as their living room, kitchen, and dining room.
“Thanks, Abby,” Kamea said, hopping up onto one of the stools at the kitchen island. “You’re the best.”
“I figured you’d need it. You always do.”
“Where do you go?” Faye asked, almost disinterestedly. “All weekend? You disappear Friday nights and come back super early Monday morning with no explanation.”
Kamea deftly avoided the question by filling her mouth with the toast Abyssosque slid across the slick black counter toward her. Faye sighed, but didn’t ask again.
“Is this cherry jam?” Kamea asked innocently once she’d swallowed. Abyssosque nodded.
“I made it yesterday.”
“Good job. This is your best batch yet. What were you procrastinating?”
“I-!” Abyssosque blushed and looked away. “Um. Some biology assignments.”
“You are trying to get your degree, right?” Kamea grinned at her to soften her words, and Abyssosque smiled back, a little wryly.
“Some days, I’m not sure.”
“Ah, you’ll get through it,” Kamea said breezily. “Eventually.”
“Not comforting.”
“That ain’t my job.”
“Speaking of your job,” Faye cut in, “You’re gonna be late if you don’t hurry up, Kamea.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. It really sounds like you’re tryna get rid of me, Faye. Pushing me off the balcony and everything.”
“I have some stuff to write, and you’re distracting,” Faye explained.
“Meeeee? Distracting? Abby, am I distracting?” Kamea blinked up at the younger woman with an overdramatically innocent expression.
“Very,” Abyssosque replied solemnly. Kamea rolled her eyes and shoved the rest of her toast in her mouth.
“Fine, I’m going,” she sighed. “I’m unappreciated around here.”
“Have a nice day,” Faye said absently.



The wind whistled through her hair as she stepped out onto their large balcony, her heeled boots clicking quietly against the coloured glass tiles. The sun was out and bright today, shining through the floor and casting bright blue beams against the side of the building. Despite the sun, however, it was absolutely freezing outside, and Kamea’s breath hung in pale clouds as she zipped up her fur-lined jacket.
All part of the experience of living in one of the tallest cities in Teviran-- maybe even the world. It got very, very cold.
As she walked closer to the open edge of the balcony, she reflected that it was a good thing she wasn’t afraid of heights. Even so, the dizzying drop beneath her feet was enough to get her heart racing. She was at the top of one of the highest apartment buildings in Aermena, capital city of Venticantus, and a horrible place to live if you had a crippling fear of flying, falling, or heights, because those three things were what made this city special.
She slid her glider onto her back, tightening each strap one by one, then slipped on the gloves that let her control it, shrugging her shoulders to make sure everything was snug and comfortable. The electric nodes in her gloves hummed to life, warming her fingers.
“Alright,” she mumbled to herself. “Let’s go.” She stepped to the edge of the balcony, flexed her mechanical wings, fixed her goggles in place, and jumped off the edge.
For a moment, the sheer panic of jumping off the edge of a very, very high building overwhelmed her and she closed her eyes, a grin spreading across her face.
This was both her favourite and her least favourite part of living in this city.
Once she’d fallen about four or five floors, she flicked her hands and the glider wings, hanging loosely behind her and drifting in the wind, straightened and stiffened, catching her and sending her forward rather than down.
Once she was in control of her breathing again, her grin widened.
The sky was, once again, hers for the taking.



All too soon, though, she touched down on the balcony leading to her radio station, the freedom of air beneath her giving way to solid glass once more. Her glider wings folded tightly into themselves and she set about undoing the straps as she sauntered through the entrance, the sliding doors moving aside with a quiet hiss.
“Good morning, Ma’am!”
Her assistant, Esmee, popped up at her elbow almost immediately.
“Gooood morning, Esmee,” Kamea replied, handing off her glider to Esmee for her to take and hang up.
“You have a visitor,” Esmee informed her brightly. “He’s waiting in your office.”
“Then I won’t keep him waiting,” Kamea said, pulling her gloves and coat off and piling them on her glider. Esmee nodded quickly and scurried away to put Kamea’s things away.



Her office was a few floors below the entrance, and she walked at almost a slow running speed to try and get there faster, her feet skimming across the glass floor and crystal stairs in the practiced way of someone who wore six-inch heels on the daily and made it look effortless.
“Mekhi,” she greeted as she pulled open her office door and settled into her desk chair. The white-suited man draped carelessly across the leather chair in front of her desk flashed her a grin and sat upright.
“My dearest Hiromneme,” he said sweetly, using the fake name Kamea used on-air. “And how are you this fine morning?”
Kamea returned his smile, reaching for one of the herbal cigarettes lined up neatly in one of her desk drawers as she answered. “Tired. Got anything that might wake me up?” She picked up her lighter and flicked it on, lighting her cigarette and taking a deep breath of smoke before extinguishing the flames. The familiar scent of rosemary filled her office quickly, and she sighed softly.
Some people were bothered by her habit of smoking. ‘It isn’t right, not even if they’re herbal’ was a phrase she’d heard all too often over the years.
Her usual response was to tell them that she hadn’t asked for their opinion.
At least she wasn’t smoking real ones anymore.
“Oh, I have something fun,” Mekhi replied. “Your friends caused quite a stir with their little attack. The High Aristocracy is getting antsy.”
“That’s the point,” Kamea pointed out. “Rebel, cause chaos, overthrow the corrupt government, all that good stuff.”
“Oh, of course! But they’re now suspicious. That convoy was hard information to get- and they’re now wondering if they’ve got a spy.”
“A spy?” Kamea gasped dramatically. “Mehki, would you know anything about a spy?”
“A spy? In the Teviran government? Never,” Mehki replied innocently. “I, a spy in the Teviran government, can absolutely vouch for that.”
Kamea blew a little bit of smoke teasingly at him. “Of course you can.”
“That means we’re both going to need to lie low,” Mehki continued, more seriously. “The Seros Voithos’ asked Aneira to help zim run scans on the systems and find any ‘stray messages’, as ze put it.”
“Noted,” Kamea said. “Aneira isn’t going to simply fake some results and keep us safe?”
“Avicii is too smart to be fooled by that. Aneira isn’t about to put herself and all of us at risk.”
“Fair enough. Anything else? ‘Cause it’s about time for me to start doing my thing.”
Mekhi stood up. “Nope, that’s it. Be careful.”
Kamea leaned back in her chair. “I’m always careful,” she assured him.
“Then I’ll leave you be,” Mekhi said. “Farewell until our next clandestine meeting, Hiromneme.”

The last time Diego had seen his grandmother, she’d told him he was blessed with glorious purpose.

Or maybe she’d meant that he was cursed. It was always rather hard to tell with the things she said.

Grandma Azucena had lived in a cottage deep in the Cantos Forest, more than an hour’s hike from the city of Alarique. The outside of the cottage was painted a pale pink, but it had been difficult to see the walls under the climbing ivy and vines that she’d never wanted to remove. “They belong here as much as I do,” she’d explained. And just like her house was indistinguishable from the forest around it, she’d made the garden home to all plants as well. Jasmine and honeysuckle wrapped themselves around trellises while sage and spearmint grew together between the lavender patches. It had looked magical, but the most incredible part was the effort that went into maintaining it.

But if the outside felt like a fantasy landscape come to life, the inside could make you believe in it. There were shelves of glass vials filled with dried holly berries, ground cloves, crushed black tourmaline and snow quartz, wilted orchid petals, and many more plants and stones Diego couldn’t hope to list. Two candles were placed on every table, one white and one black. He’d seen tarot cards stored in the top of a closet once, and the air always smelled like some burning herb, but what kind it was changed every visit. And of course, there were a million houseplants on what seemed to be every surface imaginable.

Another woman named Lucía had been sharing the house with her for years by that time, ever since Diego’s grandfather had moved west with the rest of the family. His mother had called her “your grandmother’s roommate” and it hadn’t taken Diego very long to realize that Grandma Azucena and Lucía, lifelong companions who had spent the last several decades spending their days and nights together away from the rest of the world, were a whole lot more than roommates.

But as long as that was what his family chose to believe, okay.

On his family’s last visit, there had been pine burning. The small cottage meant for two was cramped full with seven, and it made for a long week. The three cats Grandma Azucena owned kept coming and going, returning occasionally to present her or Lucía a gift— a willow leaf, a reed from the riverbanks, a fallen trinket of some passing traveler. They would thank the cat, give them a pat on the head, and send them on their way. He’d never seen more than two at the same place and time, and it seemed they were always on the hunt for some item. Diego, only ten at the time, had wished he could disappear to wherever they were at just to escape the crowded space.

He didn’t remember a lot of things from his childhood, perhaps from nothing exciting ever happening. But he could remember that conversation with clarity that made it stand out from all the blurry memories of that time.

Grandma Azucena had been sitting in a wooden armchair so natural that it looked like she’d grown it right in her living room. It was about five in the evening, which meant it was time for her to go light the black candle and stare at its flame for a while. Since Diego didn’t understand all her rituals, he sat on the rug and flipped through some weird book about astrology that only made him more bored. His parents had gone to town, perhaps to escape the heavy feeling of the home’s mystic energy, and his sisters were out in the garden. Visitors often made the long trek to the cottage to request their services— to rid them of their nightmares, seek emotional peace, forget a struggle. Lucía was busy with one of them, so for once the two of them were alone.

“Do you remember what this is?”

Diego had looked up, surprised that she’d broken the silence so suddenly. Grandma Azucena held up something in her wrinkled hand, her eyes still on the candle that was starting to drip dark wax. It was a sprig from a plant, with pink flowers that looked like buttercups. Of course he remembered what it was— she had chased him around her garden one day when he was seven, drilling the plant names into his head until sundown. She’d done the same with Juliana a few years before, and Diego had no doubt that if she’d had a few more years in her, she’d have made sure Aly knew them too.

“It’s hellebore,” he answered.

“Good. What is it for?”

“For trapping spirits and preventing them from wandering around,” Diego said, closing the book. If Grandma Azucena was the one who told him what everything was, Lucía made sure he knew its purpose. “But that can’t be real.”

“So why then does it grow in our graveyards?”

Diego, who didn’t have the occult experience with cemeteries that he assumed she had, stared in confused silence.

A slight smile split Grandma Azucena’s elderly face. She and Lucía had been old, old enough that he’d never learned the number, and that had made her a bit of an eldritch being, if a benevolent one, in his eyes. “Whenever something is empty, something else comes along to fill it. Fish to swim in our rivers when the current runs weak. Birds to soar in our skies once the air is clear.” She ran a finger over the lines of a green leaf. “Hellebore in our burial grounds when the land is barren and all that is left to see is our ghosts.”

“Is that true about everything?” Diego asked.

Grandma Azucena paused, a thoughtful expression on her face before she nodded. “Yes,” she said. “And even these woods are getting rather hollow.” Then she turned her gaze away from the burning candle to look at him, her knowing smile returning. “But don’t you worry. I think the forest will have plans for you one day.”

His grandmother stood up, walked over to the dining table, and blew out the black candle. She then took it with her, smoke still trailing from the darkened wick, and left without another word. She’d left the hellebore on the tree armchair, as if she thought there might be ghosts here trying to leave. Not even the constellation of the Queen, who watched the world from the stars through a mirror looking back (and could see the future according to the astrology book), could tell him what that was about.

When she passed away a month after they’d ended their visit, Diego still hadn’t gotten to ask what she meant.





“Do you think you’ll be able to make my family’s Harvest Moon Feast?” Diego asked.

Jay’s voice came back through his phone speakers. “Probably? I’m technically always free, except that Rowan makes my schedule and it’s pretty much non-negotiable. When is that happening again?”

“It’s about a week and a half away, I think.”

Diego’s family held a potluck every year that they’d invite friends, family and colleagues to. It roughly coincided with the time that there was a full moon in September, so they had started calling it the Harvest Moon Feast. Jay had attended the last two and turned out to be a very popular guest with the Sierra-Castilla family.

“I’ll do my best,” Jay promised. They were doing a video call tonight, since Diego’s shift had ended late and there wasn’t enough notice to meet up. He could see the string lights on the wall behind him, which made for a nice background. Diego didn’t have much of one— it was just his bed’s headboard. He didn’t have anything terribly exciting in his small apartment. “Things seem to have picked up a lot back here, though. I have no idea what it’ll look like in a few days.”

“Are you going to be alright?” Diego asked.

Jay nodded. “I think I should be. I miss having time off, though.”

I miss getting to see you. Should he say that aloud? He wasn’t sure how it would be taken— it could be either a “me too” or just make him upset— so he kept it to himself. “I really hope Rowan gets more understanding. Sometimes I wish I could talk to him about that.”

There was a laugh on the other side of the phone. “Oh, I bet he’d be thrilled. More people challenging his orders.”

“He’s a bit controlling,” Diego remarked. “Does he take constructive criticism?”

“Oh, history says definitely not. Never has, never will probably,” Jay said.

Diego sighed. “Probably for the best that I haven’t met him, then.”

“I’m jealous of you,” Jay said. “How’s your work going?”

They made small talk for another several minutes. Diego tried to bring a smile to Jay’s face as often as he could while they chatted— and when Jay did, Diego would smile too. For a moment, he felt light-hearted and at ease again.

A loud thudding sound startled him out of it, like someone slamming their fist into a wall.

“Did something fall?” Jay asked. Clearly it could be heard over the phone. “It sounded heavy.”

“I didn’t knock anything over,” Diego said. “Maybe it was in the other room. I’ll go check it out.”

He stood up and left his room. The main room combined a small kitchen, a table for eating, and a living space (which was mostly just a couch, a coffee table and a TV screen). He didn’t see anything out of the usual, and everything was where he’d left it. Diego was about to get confused when he heard it again as repeated, aggressive pounding this time. He saw the door to his apartment rattle with the force.

Oh. That’s what it is. I’d have preferred to take my chances with something falling off the counter.

“Is everything okay?” Jay asked, sounding slightly worried.

“Oh, yeah. It’s just someone knocking,” Diego said. “I’ll be right back, I just need to see what’s up.”

“Okay. Be—” He could tell he had cut himself off from saying careful. “Uh, yeah, no worries.”

Diego set his phone down on the coffee table and turned towards the door. He approached it carefully. Would his landlord really come by at a time like this?

But the banging came again, and he could put together that this probably wasn’t his landlord.

“Not much longer!” a slurred, rough voice shouted, and Diego jumped a little. “You’re all on your way out and you won’t be here much longer. You’re all going!”

Terror seized him suddenly and he couldn’t move any closer to the door, couldn’t get any close to those words. He felt the rattling of the door in his bones and the racing beat of his heart. How was this actually happening?

“So my parents weren’t going crazy over some rumors, were they?” he muttered to himself.

“We’ll be one step closer to being on our own again!” the drunk man hollered, and the glee with which he said it made him feel sick to the stomach. “They’re going to get here, with their… their… their big trucks! We’ll be rid of you soon!”

With a shaking hand, Diego double-checked the lock and slid the deadbolt into place.

“Soon!” A laugh followed, and the pounding came with more force, causing him to back away from the door. “Soon!”

It was just a neighbor. A neighbor who’d had a little too much to drink and had always had these thoughts but only just now felt emboldened enough to come and say them all because of what was on the table.

And every single person living in this hallway that could hear him and weren’t doing anything about it. They were complicit, too.

Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten an apartment in a building full of people who were just fine with this. At least he’d been right to pay a little extra for a second lock.

Diego stood in silence as the shouting and banging continued for another minute or two. A few times the man outside slammed his body into the door, and he would tense, praying that the old hinges wouldn’t break from the force. But eventually they became more halfhearted, less powerful, and eventually the threats stopped altogether. He could hear the uneven footsteps getting further away as his neighbor stumbled down the hallway and took the stairs.

He waited a few more seconds to be sure, then let out a deep breath and went back to his phone on the coffee table, where Jay had been waiting patiently on the call. “Sorry about that. It’s all sorted out now.”

“Are you sure?” Jay asked. “He was pretty loud.” Diego had to wonder how much he’d heard over the phone. Did he know?

“Yeah, it’s alright,” he said, sitting back down on his bed. The panic had worn off, and now he was feeling the exhaustion starting to hit. “Drunk guy looking for directions to someone’s party. Didn’t know what an indoor voice was. Took a while for him to understand where he needed to go.” What else could he say?

Jay took a few seconds to nod. “Okay,” he said, and Diego could tell from his tone that he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Well, I should probably let you get some sleep. Unless you also have a late-night party that you didn’t invite me to.”

Diego laughed, hoping it sounded natural. “You’re invited to every party I go to. But yeah, I do need to go— I think I have an early morning shift tomorrow, which means I’m going to get all the people who are tired and cranky without their coffee.”

Jay smiled. “Okay, goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too. Goodnight,” Diego said, smiling back— at least it was genuine because it helped to hear that— and he let Jay end the call.

With the sound of Jay’s voice gone, the sounds of Shanoa seemed to come out of nowhere. A glass bottle breaking in the room above. A group of friends laughing as they walked below his window. A police siren wailing as it made a round on the block. A city that wouldn’t fight to keep him.

Diego wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to leave his apartment in the morning.

The overhead light was flickering again, sporadic white flashing that made it harder for Yamren to focus on the blue light of the computers in front of her. How long had she been planning to fix that? How long had it been like that before she noticed the flickering over the many other lights in her basement room? Too long, probably. Astra would worry, if she knew about the light. Not fixing things wasn't a good thing, she insisted.
Her fingers tapped the desk, a sweet cadence of click and tap and scritch that matched the beat of her sister's voice, coming from the sleek radio hooked to the wall.
Tap, tap, tap.
The light really didn't need fixing, did it? She could just turn it off and not bother. She had enough lamps and strings of lights and computer screens around to produce light, she didn't need the overhead one. It was too dangerous to fix it, anyway. What if she shocked herself? What if she got seriously hurt? What if she accidentally set everything on fire? What if she purposefully set everything on fire?
Deep breath. Tap-tap-tap-tap.
What was Kamea talking about? She should be listening. That was her job, after all, listen and understand and convey the information to the people up the rebel chain of command. Listen and understand and help.
She reached up and turned the radio's volume up.
Nothing important. No hidden messages.
She let Kamea's voice fade back into the background and shivered. It was cold down here. She should really get around to finishing the basement. Put some insulation in, at least.
She got up, legs stiff from sitting far too long and aching as she stepped down from the slightly higher area where her computers and radio were, and went to drag the blanket off her bed.
Insulation, flooring, maybe some proper drywall and paint… She'd have to move everything, though, and that would take too much energy. Energy she didn't have anyway. And so many things could go wrong.
She could handle this. Sweaters and slippers and blankets would keep away the cold. Much easier. Much safer.
She wrapped herself in her blanket and went back to her desk, her chair creaking as she sat back down in front of the wall of computer monitors.
One of them had fallen asleep while she was getting her blanket, and she nearly knocked her jar of pens over as she scrambled to get the mouse and turn it back on.
That one couldn't turn off. Not ever. That one was the important one. It had to- it had to stay on.
Taptaptaptaptap-
The screen flickered to life and she released the mouse.
Nothing had changed on the screen. Everything was all right.
She slowly scanned the other eight monitors on the wall, checking each and every one of them carefully. A couple of them -- online games that she was playing with other random internet users -- needed her attention, but the rest of them were fine.
Fine. Fine. All fine. Perfectly fine.
Everything was fine.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Was one of her screens flickering a bit? She hoped not. All nine of these monitors were supposed to be top-notch, expensive bits of machinery. She’d spent almost all of her money - and Kamea’s - buying her equipment and bringing it from Teviran to Misericord, sneaking it across the border so no one would ask why she needed nine high-powered monitors, three high-end computer towers, and enough wires and computer parts to fill a tech lab.
She didn’t need all of them, technically. She wanted them. Much easier to keep track of things with more computing power.
She was proud of how she’d organized her space down here. One computer and three monitors dedicated to frivolous things; games, surfing the internet, things like that. One computer and three monitors dedicated to news reports and social media, to keep track of what was going on in the world outside her little basement. One computer and three monitors dedicated to tracking the bugs she’d set around the various places the rebels used as bases of operations.
The bugs were harmless, of course. She’d never do anything to harm the rebel cause. They were for… protection. That was it. She had to keep track of everything. And she’d be the first to know if anything happened anywhere. That was good. Knowing was good. She could keep everyone safe this way.
Tap tap tap tap-
She frowned. It sounded almost like there was an echo to her taps. A slight offbeat, a small sound at the back of her mind, a knock from somewhere far away.
"Yammy?"
Astra's voice did make her knock over her jar of pens. Her sister, calling from the top of the stairs, waited a moment, then called her name again, a little more impatiently. Yamren glanced at the pens on the floor -- all sixteen of them had scattered in different directions, rolling under her desk and her bookshelves and everywhere else -- and then sighed and got up.
"I'm coming," she called. She tossed her blanket back onto the bed and took the stairs two at a time.
Did it really have to be so bright up here? Who told the sun it was allowed to be so blinding?
Blinking away the pain from the sudden brightness, she closed the door to the staircase behind her and leaned on it. "What do you need?"
"You haven't eaten all day," Astra said accusingly. Her fingers, covered in dirt and grass stains, toyed with one long lock of her red hair, rubbing the dirt and grime into her curls. "I made you something. And then, once you're done, we're going outside."
Yamren wanted to protest and go back to her basement, but she'd promised Astra that she'd take care of herself, and she intended to follow through.
"Alright. Whatever you say."
Astra grinned, grabbed her arm, and dragged her to the kitchen.

No politics outside the office. That was the one rule the High Aristocracy had set for themselves. ‘No politics outside the office’ meant that they could enjoy what precious moments of their lives they had in between running everything. ‘No politics outside the office’ meant that they could enjoy being regular people in the moments between making decisions that affected millions of civilians. ‘No politics outside the office’ meant that they’d decided not to second-guess any of their decisions while they were supposed to be relaxing.

‘No politics outside the office’ was also the one rule Avis was breaking at the moment.

"I'm telling you, this whole forced work conscription thing is a stupid idea." Avis stretched out his legs and rested his feet on the glass surface of the coffee table, earning him a glare from Dominic. "We need the resources, sure, but why are we only going to send Caladians? Separating people by nationality isn't our thing, remember? We aren't Misericords, after all."

"We've discussed this," Dominic replied patiently. "We all decided this would cause the least amount of anger among the people."

"Our people are going to protest, sure," Alessia added from across the room where she was playing with Dominic and Avis's youngest child, Penny. "But I'm sure the Misericords will be just fine. Hell, maybe they'll even be glad to get rid of them, considering how racist-" She coughed. "-isolationist they are." She leaned in to poke Penny’s nose and the baby reached up to try and grab her hair. Unfortunately for Penny, Alessia had pulled her hair back into a ponytail, revealing the undercut she refused to show to the public, and the baby’s fingers only brushed soft, short hair that she couldn’t get a grip on.

Dominic sighed. "What's decided is decided, and we'll deal with the fallout when it happens."

“Or we could not.”

“Avis-”

“No, listen.” Avis sat up straight, looking Dominic right in the eyes. “We don’t need to do this. Are the Caladians insisting that we only send their own people back?”

“It didn’t come up in discussion, but we assumed they’d be happier with their own people-”

“And who are those people exactly?” He glanced from Dominic to Alessia. “People who left for whatever reason. How many of them are going to be people searching for another life in Misericord because they couldn’t find work in Caladia? Have we considered why they couldn’t find work in Caladia? And how many immigrants are there going to be, anyway, considering how unwelcoming Misericord is to anyone who isn’t their own oh-so-perfect selves? We’d get more and better workers if we yanked them from Teviran, too, but we aren’t doing that, are we? And like, all the Caladian immigrants are going to fight us, possibly harder than the resistance will! We’re taking all the first and second generation immigrants- some of those people were born in Misericord! They aren’t Caladian! We’re sectioning people off by skin tone, basically- and again, as stated, we aren’t the goddamn Misericords!”

“He has a point,” Alessia admitted. “Dom, I know we talked about this before and I agreed, but he has some really good points. I’m beginning to think this is a really stupid idea.”

Avis gave his husband a meaningful look. Dominic’s eyes had glazed over slightly in the way that meant he was thinking hard about how to word this in a formal way to suggest it to Eilanawyn. Moonlight streaming in through the windows played across his face, highlighting his dark hair and golden-hazel eyes with an intimidating - and sexy, if Avis was being honest - glitter.
“You know I’m right, babe,” he said.

“You’re right,” Dominic agreed with a sigh. “I’ll bring it up to Eilanawyn when I see her tomorrow.”

A quiet bang from the doorway to the kitchen made them all look up. Reagan, Avis and Dominic’s oldest daughter, quickly bent to pick up the spoon she’d dropped, flushing with embarrassment at getting caught.
“I, uh, was going to tap the sign-” She pointed to the sign on the wall next to the doorway, lovingly - and badly - embroidered by Avis and Dominic’s second-youngest child, Kyri, that read No politics outside the office. “-but then it got interesting, so, um…”

“You know the rules,” Avis reminded her.

“If any of us catch you talking about politics and don’t tap the sign to remind you, we have to share our opinion,” Reagan recited. “Um. Well.”
Alessia gave her an encouraging nod.

“I think Dad is right. Just taking the Caladians sends the wrong message, that you don’t care about the people, just the results. That’s not what Teviran stands for.”

“Who are we sending that message to?” Dominic prompted her.

“Everyone,” she replied confidently. “Our people, both Misericord and Teviran, and Caladia and Iltheus as well. If you go through with this like you’re planning to right now, you’re going to let the world know that… that…”

“That you’re all a buncha racists who don’t care about people,” a new voice added. Dominic and Avis’s second-oldest child, Kai, popped out from behind their sister, dreadlocks bobbing with the vehemence of their statement.

“I was going to say that Teviran might not be as accepting and non-divisive as we claim to be, but that works too,” Reagan agreed.

“Wonderful job, both of you. I think dinner is burning,” Avis said casually. Reagan yelped and dashed back toward the kitchen, while Kai took a moment to tap the sign meaningfully before turning and running after Reagan.

“Well, I know when I’m beat,” Dominic said. “I’ll talk to Eilanawyn, and if she agrees with your points, we’ll reopen negotiations with Caladia and work things out in a way that doesn’t send an… unfortunate message.”

"Where is El, anyway? Didn't she say she was coming over too?" Avis asked, changing the subject before any of their kids could come and tap the sign at them again.

"Something came up last-minute at work," Alessia explained. "She's still there as far as I know."

"Damn. Maybe I should go in and help her," Avis mused. He didn't want to, really, his day had been long enough- but, on the other hand, that was his duty as Seros Voithos.

"She's got it handled," Alessia disagreed, waving a colourful ribbon in front of Penny in the same way you'd tease a cat with a string. The baby giggled and grabbed at it, immediately trying to stuff the end in her mouth.

"She needs another assistant," Dominic said.

"Excuse me, am I not good enough anymore?" Avis asked, giving his husband a wounded look.

Dominic reached over and pulled Avis’s oversized hood into his eyes, knocking his glasses onto the floor. "You know that's not what I meant. She needs someone dedicated to helping her out whenever things like this pop up."

Avis batted him away with his hoodie sleeves and nodded, leaning down to grab his glasses before anything happened to them. “Yeah, she does. It’s not healthy for her to sit in the dark working all day.”

“Sit in the dark, yes,” Alessia corrected. “Work, no.”

“No!” Penny agreed emphatically. She pulled extra hard on the ribbon and Alessia dramatically flopped to the floor as if she’d been fatally wounded. From the way she winced before playing dead, Avis guessed she’d fallen on one of Penny’s alphabet blocks.

“Penny, don’t kill your aunt,” Dominic said mock-sternly. The baby looked up at him, all wide-eyed innocence, and stuffed the ribbon in her mouth. “And don’t eat ribbons, either,” he sighed. “Lessi, grab that from her.”

Alessia obediently took the ribbon back before ‘dying’ once more, and Penny screwed up her face, ready to scream at the injustice of it all.

Avis got to his feet and scooped the baby off the floor, distracting her from her meltdown by waving his shiny gold nails in front of her face and letting the glitter catch the lamplight. “You expect too much from her,” he said over his shoulder to Dominic. “Not eating ribbons? What kind of father are you?”

“A terrible one,” Dominic replied without hesitation. “I’m serious. Eilanawyn needs an assistant, so we need to find someone for her.”

Avis tossed Penny into the air, and the little girl shrieked happily. “You mean I to find someone for her. Y’know. Since you two will end up so busy and have no time to do it.”

“Part of your job description is ‘hire new people to work for us’,” Alessia pointed out. “Stop being salty.”

“You’re dead,” Avis scolded. “Penny took you out- masterfully, I might add. So you don’t get to talk.”

“I outrank you, you can’t tell me to shut up,” Alessia shot back.

Avis brandished Penny threateningly. “I’ll send my attack baby after you,” he warned.

“Don’t drop the baby,” Dominic said, a tremor of anxiety touching his voice. “Avis-”

“I’m not gonna drop the baby,” Avis replied, pulling Penny closer to his chest. “See?”

Dominic settled back. “So that’s a yes, then? You’ll hire someone for Eilanawyn?”

“What, you aren’t going to ask her first?”

“As a formality, yes, but she’ll agree to it, so you can get started right away.”

“Not right away!” Kai announced, appearing in the doorway once more. “Dinner is not burned, and is in fact…” They paused. “Ready!”

“Woo!” Avis cheered. “Go get Kyri, and we can eat.” Kai nodded and dashed up the stairs, calling for their sister at the top of their lungs. Alessia, still on
the floor, winced.

“Does their volume ever drop below could-be-heard-over-a-foghorn?” she muttered.

“I didn’t know noise bothered the dead,” Avis teased.

“Yeah, yeah. Do the dead get to eat?”

“If the dead insists.”

Alessia got off the floor and swept Penny out of Avis’s arms. “The dead want baby for dinner!” she cried, pretending to nibble at Penny’s ribs while carrying her to the dining room.

Dominic shook his head at her, then got to his feet and slipped his hand into Avis’s. “Well, we should probably go save our baby.”

Avis kissed his cheek, and they followed Alessia down the hall.

The heavy iron door to the cellblock whined around its hinges. "Twenty minutes," mumbled the guard. He closed the door behind Natalia as she stepped inside.

A liberal line of bare bulbs hung in station down the long, cracked cement corridor. A dank, gritty-basement smell pressed against her nose. Damn she hated that smell. It was one of those that drug you deeper back into old feelings than reminiscing ever could. She buried her chilled fingers a little deeper into her coat pockets as she walked.

"Natalia?"

She smiled just a bit. "Hey, Harry."

Her cousin swayed into an upright position on his tangled bedspread. Natalia watched him pull the limp and smoking joint from his lips and draw his hand across his face. A sharp skunk odor overhung the old-basement smell in a heavy aura around him. Natalia sat down on the short visitor's bench outside his cell as he came and dropped into his own seat on the other side. "You don't look so good," she said softly.

Harry huffed slightly, looking off yet like he was figuring out what to say. He looked down and shrugged, rolling his cigarette between boney fingers.

Natalia's gaze sank. Harry was a handful of years younger than her, but somehow he'd come to look more stretched-thin and haggard than she had. His last shave had been a few days ago, a patchy job.

He rubbed the dark bags under his eyes and finally looked at her. The two of them had the same deep brown gaze. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Okay?" Looking away again, he tucked the cigarette under his lip.

"I didn't come to make you apologize."

"But you want me to, right? Cuz this screws everything up for you, it really makes a mess."

"It doesn't screw anything up..."

Harry blew an upward plume of smoke and stared blankly at the concrete. She wasn't sure if that meant he knew they couldn't talk about it or if he was too high to care. She watched him blink nervously and take his cigarette out again.

With a subdued sigh, Natalia reached into her coat pocket. "Here. I thought they might have taken your others, but they let me bring these through." She handed a couple packs of regular cigarettes through the bars. The packaging was opened and crumpled from the security guard's search. She shrugged a little.

Harry hesitated briefly before taking them with a nod. "These don't help as well," he mumbled, staring at the colored labels in his hand. But he glanced up at her and nodded again. "Thanks..."

She nodded too, her forehead gently wrinkled as she watched him. As he slipped the packs into his coat she flicked him a smile. "Try to make those last, okay? I might not be able to bring you anymore 'til next week."

Harry smiled wryly. "No promises."

Natalia drew a slow breath of the heavy air and waited for his sluggish brain to catch up. Harry coughed into his coat cuff. The joint had almost gone out in his fingers. There. His brow had furrowed lazily.

"It's Tuesday?"

"Wednesday," she corrected quietly.

Harry nodded slowly, looking off again. "You're coming back before next week, right?"

Even expecting it, she hesitated. "I'll try to. I have some business in Nor'burn, it'll depend how long it takes."

He nodded again, flicking the last half of his joint into a pile of butts in the corner. "Business from heaven's gift to earth I guess?"

She could only smirk slightly. "Yeah..."

"Alright." He looked up and met her gaze again. "Stay safe, okay?"

This time the bit of smile she gave came easier. She nodded and promised him, "I'll let you know as soon I get back."

Harry drew a fresh cigarette from the packs in his pocket. "I'll be here," he said as he lit it and tucked his lighter away. He grinned sardonically at her around the white paper. "Just burning up these mementos."





A gusty evening breeze cleared the fading remnants of smoke from Natalia's lungs. She pulled her warm cowl a little closer to her cheek and looked ahead. A tall figure was already waiting for her under a heavy-limbed walnut tree off the park path. The figure turned and waved, visibly smiling even from a distance. Natalia smiled to herself and started across the grass.

"You usually get here from that other path," Jay said when she'd joined him. "Have you been out?"

"They let me see Harry today. I came from there."

His expression shifted into a slight frown as he pulled up his hood, which still left some of his warm curls bobbing in the wind. "Is he going to be alright?"

Natalia leaned against the walnut's wide trunk beside him. Her gaze slowly scanned the gentle downward slope of the park in the way she'd just come from. "I'm worried about him..."

Jay nodded, a little weakly, his face matching her concern. He kicked lightly at the grass. "I'm really sorry that happened," he said in a quiet voice. "Is it going to be a long sentence...?"

It took her a moment to answer. "They ruled it a minor offence, and questioned him, but they don't suspect him of any real resistance ties. They called it a political crime though. Six months if nothing changes..."

Jay breathed out deeply, staring down at the ground. It was just cold enough that his breath formed a white cloud against the darkling sky. "Damn. Natalia, I-- I'm so sorry." The park seemed to go completely quiet in the time before he spoke again. "If it's okay to ask... what did he do?"

Natalia's chin sank into her cowl. "He, uh..." she started through a heavy sigh, "went a little crazy and threw some stones through a few windows in one of the Teviran buildings uptown."

"I wouldn't have imagined they could make such a big deal out of that." Jay shook his head. "They're really tightening down."

Natalia looked over at him a second and nodded. "It-- was bad timing, there'd just been high activity in the area. A secret rally, pamphlets..."

Silence descended again, stirred up by the wind that tossed loose ends of gray against her cheek. Eventually she turned to back Jay, her expression not so heavy. "Tell me what you've been doing," she said as she lowered herself against the tree, inviting him down beside her in the dry grass. "Finn tells me you're interested in old, abandoned train stations?" She raised an eyebrow at Jay teasingly.

He let out a quick, short laugh as he sat down next to her and folded one leg up to his chest, leaving the other stretched out over the roots. "Finn overshares," he said with a dramatic sigh. "Yeah, I was looking at it the other day through files, but I haven't gone there or anything. I think someone would get mad if I went alone."

"More like worried sick. And maybe just-- a little mad." She held her fingers up to show a smidgen, squinting with one eye, then laughed slightly. She draped her arms around her knees. "Those places are really dangerous though," she said shaking her head. "I don't want you to get hurt."

Jay shrugged with one shoulder. "In all honesty? If it's the danger that's most worrying, I would rather take my chances with that than running around for Rowan."

Natalia nodded with a soft hum of understanding and looked down, but not before glancing over the red scrape on Jay's cheek, brightened by the cold.

She never had gotten used to seeing them. A fresh one still touched a flame to her anger. But Jay didn't notice her glance or her suppressed rage.

"Rowan's beyond taking any suggestions from me," she said and sighed. "It makes him snappish at best."

"He doesn't take them from me either," Jay said. "But he really should be listening to you."

She lifted her eyebrows in a way that said that may be true and picked up an empty walnut shell, brushing moist dirt away from its crevices with her fingertips. "It's been a long time since he had to take any orders from me. I may be older, but we're on equal ground and it's all business with him."

Jay sighed. "He likes feeling like his power comes from strength. It's almost as if he thinks this is still the military."

She looked over and studied Jay, then nodded slightly. "For him it is, more or less." There was still a bit of nut inside the shell and she knocked it out into her palm. She ran her fingertip over it, then into the cavity that matched its every dip and swell. "He's well-suited, but he hasn't learned where the boundaries go yet. Between his work and the rest of his life I mean." She paused abruptly, staring at the shell a moment. Then tossed the bit of nut to a gray squirrel that had crept close to forage. It shoveled the nut into its mouth and ran off.

"They're both the same thing to him, right?" Jay shook his head. "I can't even see the difference in mine. I know this is important, but-- I don't want this to be my entire life. I don't know." He looked over to her with a weary expression. "I don't want it to get that far."

"I know," she said softly. She looked over too, meeting his hazel eyes. "Maybe the hardest thing is not letting it." She looked at his forehead, smiling a bit, and tucked a waving curl under his hood. "And this isn't for work, so that's something."

He returned the slight smile. "Yeah, that's true. I'm told that I'm hard to have a professional talk with, so just imagine a work meeting with me every week. I think you would tire of me fast."

She groaned lightly and chuckled. "You think so? I wish all my work meetings could be a little less serious."

"Not a serious thing on the horizon and the only thing not lacking is counter-productivity. It's the Jay guarantee." Jay mimicked a commercial voice and smirked a little, but he sobered up shortly afterwards. "I would not do well in pretty much any resistance role like yours."

Natalia watched him, her own smile fading slowly. "You don't have to try, Jay, you can have a different life. Anyway... with any luck we won't be doing this long enough for anyone else to have to worry about it." The corner of her mouth lifted weakly. "Is a hug okay?"

Jay only took a moment to answer. "Yeah, that's alright."

They hugged each other gently for a moment, then she let him help her to her feet. The park lamps were coming on along the paths around them. "It's getting dark," she sighed. "You can go first, I think I'll walk around this time before I follow."

Jay hesitated, then nodded. "You're feeling worried?"

"Just... with this business with Harry and the police..." She trailed off. "I just want to be careful. The less anyone can figure out the better, in case."

"Okay." He looked around the park, biting his lip a little. There were very few people out, and even those who were didn't seem to be paying them any attention. But he didn't comment on her concerns any further, even though she knew he didn't share them to the same extent that she did. Jay didn't have the same public profile as her. "When will I see you next?" he asked instead, pulling down his hood over his face a little more.

"If Nor'burn goes well, I should be back in a week. Otherwise, maybe closer to two."

Jay was silent for a few moments-- maybe he just didn't want to leave yet. "Would it be okay if I see you once before you go?"

She smiled again. "Of course. I have a couple more days and I'll probably be spending them mostly at base."

"Alright." Jay stepped back from the tree, giving her one last small smile. "I'll see you soon, then?"

She nodded. "See you soon."

He seemed to falter before finally turning away from her and taking the path, not without glancing over his shoulder a few times. He didn't wave-- that would defeat the purpose of leaving separately-- but his slow pace indicated that he wished he could have stayed longer. Natalia's face sank just as slowly under the long shadow of the walnut tree as she watched him. Eventually, she turned away and started her circuit on the other path with her head down and face buried deeply in her cowl.

The spray paint cans were almost empty, but they had done a good job. Neon green and purple splashes covered an entire roof in writing that spelled a clear message to any Teviran helicopters that would fly by. This is our city, not your battleground. Destiny tossed them both to the side, leaving them as testaments to her crime. She’d need two hands free to climb down.

She jumped down to a balcony on the next floor before scurrying down a ladder to the alley below and dusted herself off. There were a few purple stains on her black clothes, but they should wash off without too much trouble. She glanced back at the sky, which was turning into plumes of pink sunset clouds, and then continued on her way.

Destiny stepped out into a bustling plaza and cut herself a path over the brick-paved square. People were heading back from their jobs and in a hurry to get home. She caught a few voices in the rush— a few shouting matches, meaningless chatter, even a conversation in fierce, sharp Iltheusian. It was better if she didn’t think about translating it for herself. The Family wouldn’t like that.

But she understood it anyway, just from hearing the words. The posters aren’t for us. We needn’t worry for now. But maybe we should check on our neighbor, make sure he’s okay?

Mother might chastise her to paying too much attention to what wasn’t important to Misericord. (At least, that Mother would do so.) So despite her curiosity, Destiny didn’t bother to read the posters on the lampposts and shop windows that people crowded around with dismay or glee or bored indifference. She was pretty sure what they all said anyway.

Destiny was leaving the plaza to take a connecting road when someone ran into her. She’d been steady enough on her feet to keep her from toppling, but she shot a glare back at them anyway. The runner, a Caladian boy wearing red flannel and light-up shoes— who maybe looked vaguely familiar?— looked startled as he narrowly avoided a fall. “I’m so sorry!” he shouted, and since she was clearly alright, he dashed off again just as quickly as he’d gotten here. He’d looked anxious and clearly in a hurry, after all.

She squinted after him, no longer really annoyed, but he’d already disappeared. It seemed like everyone was worried today. Also, would she really know anyone that wore light-up shoes?

The neighborhood had an almost frantic feeling, and all the whispers around her were starting to sound like shouting in her head. She didn’t want to hear what they were saying. She wasn’t supposed to care.

Destiny had two places where she could go. One place, tucked away in hidden or seemly empty buildings where people didn’t go looking. Another place, even harder to find, even more of a closely guarded secret. She chose the first. If she went to the Family right now with little to say except that she’d been called to talk to a triumvirate leader, possibly because she’d messed up somewhere… Well, she didn’t feel like dealing with that until there was something else to report.

She didn’t particularly feel like talking to Rowan Chase, who had an attitude and personality only slightly more preferable than a swarm of hornet wasps, but she couldn’t avoid everything.

Most of the resistance members didn’t come and go from the Shanoa headquarters during the day. It was easier to have everyone get in when no one was watching and then leave when it was later and the coast was clear. Most people wouldn’t be leaving until a few hours, when the sun had gone down for real. But Destiny had other commitments, and she couldn’t be staying there all day.

After all, spying meant a lot of moving around.





Destiny didn’t like the color of Rowan Chase’s office. The walls were a color that wasn’t quite blue and wasn’t quite gray, which should have been a nice shade in between the two. Instead, it didn’t have either of their redeeming qualities as a simple, neutral look or a brighter, pleasant color. But she was sitting in front of him at his desk and he kept multiple swords displayed, hanging on the eyesore of a wall, so she wasn’t about to suggest he should repaint.

“So, what’s happening?” she asked, shifting in her seat. Do I look nervous? She shouldn’t be doing that. She shouldn’t even be feeling nervous.

“I’ve talked to some people,” Chase started saying, his gaze fixed on his screen instead of on her. Apparently he was busy even now. Discreetly, Destiny glanced at the mirror behind him to see that he was looking at a map of the east side of the city. “There’s a consensus that you’re probably better suited to another division.”

She raised her eyebrows slowly. That wasn’t expected. “Which one…?”

“Mine, of course,” he replied matter-of-factly. “We think it’d be a better fit for you.”

Destiny nodded slowly. This wasn’t bad, probably, but it would change what she did substantially. Gathering intelligence left her with easy ways to collect information for the Family, and get to sabotage whatever they needed to come out slightly ahead. It’d be harder to do that if she wasn’t on her own, but… she’d find a way. “Why is that?”

Chase glanced up, pressing a button on a device with a microphone attached to it. “Finn? Get me the member file for Song, Destiny.”

There wasn’t any reply, just muffled background noises.

“Finn,” the leader said loudly, and Destiny heard what sounded like an object falling— maybe a book?

“Sorry,” Finn apologized hurriedly. She could tell from the sounds of motion that he was scrambling to pick up whatever had fallen. “What is it?”

“You need to stop wearing headphones on the job,” Chase said, irritated. “Are you in the file room? Never mind, of course you are. Bring the file for Song, Destiny from the resistance members section to my office, and turn down your music volume.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry, sir.”

“Don’t take long.” He ended the communication and turned his attention back to the map on his screen, dragging markers around without looking back at her.

Destiny frowned, wishing that he had just answered her question. Now she’d have to sit here while she got ignored. At least she’d get to know what information they’d collected about her.

She used the time to examine the office. There was a lot more here than just the ugly walls. As a security precaution, there were no windows, but the room was well lit with two lamps, one in a corner and one on the desk. There was a world map and a map of Misericord side by side to her right, with pins and notes stuck to locations. The office had few decorative items, other than the fancy swords on display and a single picture frame of someone on his desk. Destiny snuck a peek at it. The person in the photograph looked much younger than Rowan Chase, maybe by twenty years or so, and looked very similar to him. She could see it in the gray eyes, light hair, and strong jawline, but he looked too friendly to be the commander. The initials on the frame confirmed that it wasn’t himself— S.C. was written in gold lettering.

A knock on the door startled her out of her search.

“Come in,” Chase said absent-mindedly.

A boy— obviously the one named Finn, since he was carrying a file— stepped in. He was wearing headphones around his neck, so he must have taken the instruction to remove them. He placed the folder on the desk, and Destiny noticed how he seemed to be standing as straight and tall as he could when the commander gave him a bit of a withering look.

“You can go,” he said, already looking through it.

Finn waved at her and gave her an encouraging smile as he left the office and closed the door behind him. She didn’t really know how to be friendly back to someone, so she wasn’t able to think of something to do in time. No wonder people thought she was rude.

“Was that your secretary?” Destiny asked.

Chase let out a scornful huff. “That’s my son. He thinks he’s some sort of archivist, hanging around in our database because he wants to find something big. He doesn’t like fighting for some reason that I’ll never understand.”

She just nodded, committing the information to memory. It would help to learn all she could about what would be her new sector.

“Anyway, where were we? Your history with us.” He set the file down on the desk. Destiny was relieved to see they only had three pages for her. “You’re successful at your assigned tasks, with very few failures, but it’s your methods that make you stand out. It seems like you seem to… well, attack your problems.” He pointed to a couple paragraphs on the second pages. “There are fifteen missions of yours where you started a fight to solve it where our other spies would have dealt with it differently.”

Destiny knew it had really been a lot more than that. “Is that bad?”

“It just shows you have a different, additional skillset,” Chase said with a shake of his head. “One that would probably be more suited to combat. We’ll be transferring you here, unless you have any qualms about that.” He raised an eyebrow.

She tried not to think about how he was challenging her, rather than leaving her with a choice. “Sure.”

He nodded, pausing to drag two more markers around before he decided to finally give her some actual attention. “This file says you can use a gun, so we won’t be spending time on showing you the ropes for that. You’ll need an orientation, however, so I’ll find someone to help you with that sooner rather than later. Let’s see…” He checked a planner, which was practically overflowing with times and dates. Destiny didn’t know how someone could have such a busy schedule. “The day after tomorrow, in the morning, here. Good?”

Destiny nodded. “That works. Is there any paperwork that needs to be filled out for the transfer?”

“This isn’t a job application, and obviously we don’t do anything legally binding here, so there’s nothing to sign on the dotted line for,” Chase said. “I’ll just add you to a ledger.”

“Is that it, then?”

The commander gestured at the door. “We’ll get it sorted.”

“Right. See you soon, sir,” Destiny said as she stood up. He’d already turned his focus back to his screen and didn’t say a goodbye, so she turned around and left the room, closing the door behind her.

She considered what she could do next as she walked down the hallway and left the headquarters. Destiny could call the Family, give them an update and tell them how she planned to continue her mission with this change. This was the option that would please Mother, and maybe she’d get to stay back Home for a bit, until she had to meet with Chase again. It was also the option that she’d have to get around to anyway.

Or, she could avoid that for a little longer and spend the night in the city. This was the bad option, the one that Mother would be disappointed in for waiting too long to report back. But she didn’t know how to do that yet. She didn’t have a plan yet.

It was easier to call them and get it over with. It was easier, right? Right?

Destiny didn’t call them that night.

Diego’s apartment was too small to include a designated panic room, so the entire space had turned into one. With both locks on the door turned and the curtains pulled shut, his home seemed almost isolated from everything else. But he knew better than to pretend it was.

He’d been lying on his couch for over an hour now, and he felt like he was confined to it. His phone was next to the cushion he was holding to his chest, and there were three identical posters on the coffee table, all spread out over the surface. Only one had arrived in the mail. The other two he’d found taped to his door by someone else— as if it were an eviction notice— and that was just another reason he didn’t feel like leaving his apartment.

Diego’s phone buzzed, and he sat up a little to check it. It was Jay, replying to the text that he’d sent a few hours ago.



It was a bit of an emergency, but Diego didn’t want to have to tell him that. He knew Jay would drop everything to get here if he heard that, and then he’d be in trouble back at headquarters. He typed back a slightly dishonest response.



Diego wasn’t sure what to do while waiting. The thin crack of light coming through the curtains turned more orange, and his grip on the pillow got tighter. His stomach was hurting, like it would when he’d ignored his lactose intolerance and had a little too much dairy, but it wasn’t as easy to ignore as that. It felt more like he’d swallowed a heavy stone and he was waiting for it to make him sink through the floor.

He wasn’t sure if it had been an hour— whether it felt shorter or longer— when a knock came from the door. It was softer than the pounding of last time, which told him that it probably wasn’t someone unexpected. Diego pulled himself off the couch, unlocking and opening the door to see a familiar, beloved face.

“Here I am,” Jay said, with a little smile. “Sorry for being so late.”

Diego had forgotten that since he hadn’t gone anywhere, he hadn’t spoken all day. His greeting came out more than a little raspy at first, and he had to clear his throat to repeat it. “Hey,” he said more clearly the second time, trying to return the smile. Jay’s cheeks were slightly flushed, though it was always hard to see on him, and his shoulders were rising and falling a little quickly with every breath. “Wait, did you run all the way here…?”

“No, just when I was close enough to see your window.” Jay stepped inside to take off his shoes, and the light-up soles flashed blue a few times. Diego closed the door and turned back to see that a slight crease of worry had formed on his forehead. He must have sprinted at full speed from there, he realized. Jay was a fit runner and wouldn’t have gotten out of breath easily. “You have your curtains closed.”

Diego loved the sunsets in fall. The sky would match the vibrant color of the autumn leaves, and the light would bounce off the buildings and streets of Shanoa, tangling the whole city up in the sun’s amber rays. Right now, the windows should be flung wide open, and he should be leaning out of them, with a breeze going by and a clear, cloudless view. Jay would have known that something was on his mind the moment he set foot on that street.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you before you even got here.” Diego sighed, giving him a quick hug. “I should’ve known better.”

“Do you want me to open them?”

“Sure, go ahead.” It would lighten the space, even if it couldn’t do that for the mood.

Jay walked over to the living room window and pulled the curtains open. The light flooded in all at once. Diego first blinked at the sudden brightness, then stared at how golden it made the curls of Jay’s hair shine. The edges of the window framed him like a painting as he opened the window, bathed in an angelic glow. The heavy weight in his chest came back, and Diego felt both crushed and breathless as he watched what he realized must have been the most beautiful sunset ever, thanks to him being there.

Don’t forget this. He’s too precious for that.

Jay turned back around, and Diego snapped out of his admiring trance. “You told me you wanted to show me something,” he said, a little anxiously.

He hadn’t really thought about how to do this. Rather than try and fail at a response, he nodded weakly and headed back to the couch.

They sat down together, and Diego swept up the posters. “So…” His voice was getting weak. “I take it you don’t know what this is about.”

Jay shook his head. “No.”

At this point, almost everyone did. It had been born as rumors and confirmed as news. But Jay wasn’t up to date on regular gossip, living and working so much away from the rest of society— he would joke that sometimes it was very much like living under a rock. Both ways, you were underground.

Diego paused, looking down at the paper. “Okay,” he said, and he suddenly realized there was no way he was going to be able to get through reading this out loud. “Here, just…” He pushed them into Jay’s hands. “Just read it.”

With a frown, Jay scanned the posters. Diego just looked away. He didn’t need to read along. He’d already spent so long staring at the words, praying they might change before his eyes, that it had seared itself perfectly into his mind.




In our mission for global peace and stability, the High Aristocracy has set the goal of forming beneficial, positive relationships with foreign states. This is to accomplish our sovereign duty of protecting our citizens and civilians alike, in both Teviran and Misericord. We are strengthened even further by gathering allies, and our world is safer for it.

Currently, we have finalized a trade agreement with the Oligarchy of Caladia, in the interest of helping both our nations. As a result from this deal, Caladia will be providing us with manufactured weapons to improve our defenses. A condition for this bargain was that we supply them with guest workers to aid them in the production process. In order to uphold our side of the exchange, we are encouraging those of Caladian descent living in Misericord to take the lead in the action of providing them with the labor needed and introducing a time of prosperity between our nations.

Residents that are not eliminated by one or more of the following requirements are asked to report on September 25th:
• First or second generation Caladian immigrants (of Aciri, Milori, and/or Cayari ethnicity).
• Between 20 and 45 years of age by this date.
• Not sick, severely injured, handicapped, or pregnant.
• Non-specialized workers who are not in fields that require higher education.

The residents falling under those requirements should report to the local city hall, where transportation to Caladia will be arranged. Failure to report is not only a violation of federal decree, but hinders global progress in creating a sustainable world for all.

We appreciate the cooperation of all those involved, and we are continuing to strive for a day when those of all nations can work together on building a new age.

The High Aristocracy of Teviran

The silence between them was lasting longer than it should, and Diego wasn’t sure if Jay had finished reading or not. He slowly turned back to him, and he got his answer. Jay had his jaw clenched so tightly that he almost wasn’t sure if he would open his mouth again. His hazel eyes ran over the paper again, looking for something he’d missed. There wasn’t anything. It was all right there.

“There’s been talk of it for weeks now,” Diego said quietly. “I’m not sure how it didn’t make it to you, but I know you would’ve said something if you knew, so—”

“They’re doing this?” Jay’s horrified whisper cut through what he was going to say next. His hands curled into fists, crumpling up the paper he was staring at.

“They want workers that Misericord won’t particularly miss, or that will be more used to a foreign—”

“They have the audacity to enforce forced labor and deportation and call it supplying guest workers?” His voice was shrill and had risen an octave.

Diego’s jaw trembled, and he felt his eyes burning. The stone in his chest was starting to feel more like broken glass.

Jay saw it, and almost immediately, the outrage gave way to fear. “That’s you.” His voice cracked, and it sounded like he was trying to get the words out around the broken pieces. “That’s— That’s you they want.”

Diego finally found his tongue, but it felt like there was someone else forming the words for him. “Not just me,” he heard himself say. “My parents are too old, and Aly’s too young and studying to be an engineer anyway, but Juliana falls under those parameters as well. They’re going to take her too.”

Jay shook his head. “No, they aren’t going to take either of you.”

“Jay—” he started, but he cut himself off and buried his face in his hands. Without any surprise, he could feel that his cheeks were wet. He honestly hadn’t been expecting to get this far in this conversation without crying. “Just don’t.”

“Diego,” Jay said, in as firmly a voice as he could manage, “I’ll be damned if I let them take you. Either of you.”

“Please don’t make that promise.”

“I can find a way,” he insisted, leaning forward to hold Diego’s hands, which made him look up. “I can talk to someone in the resistance, she can keep you two hidden until things calm down and it’s safe. That date’s in a week from today, we can get that sorted before then.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble on my behalf,” Diego argued. “What if we’re caught and I blow your cover? Or I lead them back to the entire city’s resistance?”

“We’ll be careful. I’ll go to her first thing in the morning. Please, let me do this. Please.” Jay was starting to cry too. “I can’t just let this happen.”

“And I can’t let you risk everything for the two of us.”

Jay took a deep breath. Suddenly he’d collapsed against Diego’s side, letting go of one of his hands to squeeze the other tighter, his head on his shoulder. “This was never what was meant to happen. You were supposed to be okay. It was supposed to work out, even if it took a while, and we’d make it. It was supposed—”

As he choked on a sob, Diego wrapped his arm around him and pulled him close, and he closed his eyes tight to keep back more tears.

“I know,” he whispered. “I know what you wanted.”

“It’s been four months.” Jay wiped his eyes. “Four months where I thought you’d be safe. All that happened was I lost time that I could have spent with you.”

They’d have one week left together if nothing happened. The glass shards turned to claws moving up towards his heart.

“Just swear to me that you’ll be okay,” he relented quietly. “If something goes wrong with your plan, you can’t let them catch you.”

Jay nodded weakly. “I’ll make this work.”

Diego’s vision was blurring, but there was no mistaking the determination he saw in Jay’s eyes. He sniffed and let out a sigh. “I’ll tell Juliana in the morning. My family’s got to be panicking right now.”

Jay leaned against him a little more. “I’m so sorry. This— This is terrifying.”

Dimly, through a haze, he remembered grabbing his computer when he’d gotten the poster and the shock still hadn’t worn off. The decree had been a trending search, and he hadn’t even needed to type it in to find it. Diego had scrolled through an FAQ where people would inquire on the fine details, intent on finding the one he’d been looking for: Are those who are only partly Caladian required to report? The answer was no, they did not if they were not first or second generation. Even through the terror, it had brought him some relief to know that Jay wouldn’t have to go.

It had been just enough relief to get him through the questions some people had asked that had made his blood run cold: Do they have to come back here when it’s done or can Caladia keep them? Is it possible to make them leave sooner? Can we round up and turn in people that we think might match that description? Can we start doing this with other minorities?

A lot of Misericord wouldn’t care at all. Maybe Teviran was getting more support than backlash over this.

“Diego?” Jay’s soft voice pulled him out of his train of thought.

“Yeah?”

He hesitated before speaking. “Can I stay here tonight? I don’t want to leave you alone, unless that’s what you’d be more comfortable with.”

“Of course.” Diego’s whisper was faint but clear. “I’d like that.”

Jay slid his arm around his back as their cheeks brushed together. “There’s something else I want to do, too. Another thing we haven’t done in a while.”

A small but genuine smile came to Diego’s face. “Go for it.”

Jay cupped his hand around his jaw and gently guided his face towards him as their lips brushed in a kiss. Diego leaned into it, his hand traveling up to stroke Jay’s cheek, and for a moment, the claws digging at him from the inside were gone, replaced by orange sunlight. Four entire months seemed to burn off like mist in this short moment of bliss.

It was dusk outside soon after, and the two of them were curled up together on his couch, listening to the sound of the late evening drives of cars from the still-open window, occasionally saying something in soft whispers to each other. A breeze blew the posters off the coffee table, and neither of them pulled away to pick them up. This night wasn’t for tomorrow’s problems anymore.

“This isn’t so different,” Jay said softly, his fingers brushing through Diego’s hair.

Diego thought about it for a moment, about car drives out west to the ocean at night and sitting on park benches with ice cream in the summer and sneaking into the storage room at his work on the job to talk. He thought about how all those times, he’d always reached over and grabbed Jay’s hand to tell himself that he really was here with him, that he hadn't just imagined this incredible boy. He found himself doing it right now, lacing their fingers together as if he was going to make a prayer that they’d never lose each other.

“You’re right,” he said, his words feeling like they were being spoken in a dream. “It really isn’t.”