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The sun was waning as they gathered. For all that magic had wavered during the day and they had felt the blessed flow of the Gift coursing once more through them, it had been but a tease. Painfully mortal and mundane, seven youths trudged their way back to Dami the Shrewd, Khaliun floating in last and late, unsteady in the hazy magical interference.

“Just two more,” Penny sighed, stretching out languidly on one of the back pews. “Oraff, I feel like a jellyfish,” she whined, glancing Yvain’s way. “I shall require three feather pillows, gently fluffed, a glass of lemon water with four moderate-sized ice cubes, and a bedtime story. I’m not fussed about the genre.” She let out a groan. “We’ve been waiting an hour. Gods, where are they?”

“You gonna be okay, princessh?” Sven teased. “Think you’ll make it?”

“Ugh. Shut up, Shven.” She snapped back a little too quickly and forcefully, and then softened it b y letting out a snort and rolling her eyes playfully. “I will if you carry me.”

Time dragged and the light coming in through the stained glass windows flared for half an hour and then darkened. The group of seven decided not to wait any longer before debriefing each other in earnest. By this method they learned of Yuliya’s and Yvain’s harrowing ordeal and their rescue by what was confirmed to be Khaliun’s intervention. She hadn’t been able to seriously harm the masked man who’d had them cornered - he was that strong - but she’d succeeded in making him back off, risk-averse, perhaps. “Is member of Volti, obvious!” the Vossoriyan exclaimed, punctuating her point by tapping on the wooden pew. She quickly made the sign of the Pentad as an absentminded act of contrition. “We come there, good faith, and he is trying to kill.” She shook her head, fire flaring behind her big, pretty eyes. “I want his head as trophy. I mount him on my wall. Remind people what happen when they fuck with me.”

“I am also very… amenable to his death,” Yvain added coldly, “and those of everyone in his employ, though… I’d like the chance to ask some questions first.” He paused. “We’ve confirmed what we suspected, though, at least: the phenomenon isn’t natural. It’s one of those odious devices.”

The pair of ‘Y’ names weren’t the only ones to bring news. Oksana was boisterous in her recounting of her, Esmii’s, and Sven’s misadventure in the monastery grounds though, in practice, she didn’t get too many words in edgewise. Once Esmii started up, there wasn’t much anyone could do but listen, even as she gushed on about how Sven had gone berserk and obliterated the monks.

Penny admitted to something similar, as did Roslyn, who seemed… a little bit shaken by the entire experience. “I actually think we messhed up kinda bad,” Sven quietly proposed. “At the end of the day, they were jusht defending their property againsht a break-in.”

The Perrenchwoman wasn’t having it, however. “Are you telling me that what we found inside was normal for a monastery?”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “It was… more than I expected, but…” Sven scowled. “I wash originally being trained to go into the prieshthood,” he admitted. “They’re shurprishingly martial, but it’sh… not that unushual for a remote monashtery to have a large workshop.” He shrugged again, even as Penny and Yuli - the two-headed monster that they often were - both stared at him, borderline incredulous.

“Well, I’m glad he’s not a priest,” Esmii exclaimed. “That’s for sure.”

Penny audibly groaned at the comment, but Yuliya was still focused on Sven. She even shot Penny a dirty look. “What you think? This is Vossoriya. Everybody has something on the side.” She shook her head. “Sure, maybe they attack you. You stop to think this is because you break into their home and holy place?” She let out an annoyed sigh. “You will do the same in Quentic church?” She waved a hand dismissively, signalling an end to the digression. “You did something else useful, yes?” she prodded.

Abashed, Roslyn held out a notebook with a surprisingly detailed map of the southern and southeastern end of the city and explained that they had followed the edge of the anti-magic zone. Khaliun, in only a few words, explained that she’d gone up and it was a bubble. It was, in fact, at least two bubbles, Roslyn added. If they extrapolated the patterns out… she extracted a pencil from her satchel and followed the existing patterns to turn them into proper circles. A large portion of the city was left uncovered, yet there was definitely no connection to the Gift there either.

“But there’s magic where you’re staying, right?” Penny asked Yuliya sheepishly, having been chastised a couple minutes earlier. Yuli nodded. “Yes, no…” She paused, struggling for a word. “No ‘no magic’.” It was growing late and she was tired. Then, in the distance, they heard the faint tumble of thunder. A storm was blowing in across the plains as often happened around this time of year, and usually with little warning. Tentatively, Roslyn sketched a third circle into her map in the rough location where she thought it should be, leaving a question mark in the middle. The seven exchanged glances. A couple nodded. “Tomorrow, we should confirm it,” Khaliun decided, voice as flat as ever.

“But… the monastery, and the caves?” Esmii countered. “We can’t just ignore things like that. Why don’t we split up again?”

Roslyn, quiet for much of the meeting aside from her work with the map, shook her head gently. “I’d like to investigate as much as anyone,” she remarked in a small voice, “but today made pretty clear that it is not safe out there.” She pursed her lips. “We should stick together.”

Penny nodded in agreement. “I’m with her on that. It’s hairy.”

Yuliya nodded. So did Sven, before glancing once more out the now-darkened windows. There was a flash of lightning in the distance and then a more pointed crack of thunder. “Sho… what do we do about the othersh?” he offered, eyes searching his peers’ for some sort of consensus. “They’re shitll not here.”

“You know, if they’re not utter fools - which may be giving them too much credit,” replied Yvain, “they’ve probably just headed straight back to the inn. I, for one, would rather not be out in the… Eshiran’s weather that’s clearly headed our way.”

“Sounds like what smart person would do,” Yuliya agreed, shooting Yvain a smirk. The notion reached consensus and they parted somewhat quickly after that, with promises to meet back up in the morning and take the piss out of Marz and Nazih. In the back of more than one mind, however, a nervousness gnawed and, in the event, they did not outrun the storm either. Yuliya and Khaliun were thoroughly soaked. Yvain, Esmii, Sven, Oksana, and Penny had less distance to cover. They made a dash for it, the fifth being left in the dust by her bipedal counterparts, but it was for naught. All arrived cold and wet as they stumbled into the inn.

Trudging up to their rooms, moods brightened a bit with mischievously whispered plans to press cold clammy hands to the backs of Nazih’s and Marz’s necks or wring out soaked riding cloaks over them. However, when Sven pushed the door open and prepared to dash forward, he and his peers found the boys’ dormitory eerily unoccupied, sitting still, silent, and untouched. Outside, the wind howled and rain pelted shuddering windows.

“You uh… think they might’ve just spent the night somewhere closer?” Penny proposed, trying to avoid the inevitable. “They’re probably waiting for ush in the church right now,” Sven replied, “becaushe we didn’t have the patienche to wait.” He glanced back out at the storm and swallowed. “At leasht… I hope sho.”

What followed was a ten minute debate on whether or not to go back out there. In the event, the innkeeper mentioned, through broken interpretation, that he had seen a hegelan and foreign boy sometime earlier. Their worry imperfectly pacified and perhaps wanting to believe that all was well, the visitors bedded down for the night, the girls all forced to listen as Penny knelt by her bedside and whispered nighttime prayers for the safety of the missing pair and her beloved boyfriend Ashon, on the other side of the ocean. Finally, she made the sign of the pentad, climbed into bed, and fell silent. She and the others buried themselves in their covers as temperatures plummeted and, lulled into an uneasy sleep by the sounds of rain, wind, and gentle thunder, they waited for tomorrow and better news.

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Morning was a miserable affair. A thin, slick layer of slushy ice coated everything in sight. Laundry lines lay broken on the ground, clothes thrown in the all-encompassing mud. Shed and stable roofs sagged under the extra weight. Horses, oxen, and carts struggled down the filthy streets. The seven woke up, gathered in the common room, and sat around a large table, warming their hands on a motley assortment of teacups as they drank and the warmth slowly returned to their bodies. Still, thunder mumbled indistinctly in the clouds, though it seemed to be fading and, even as they sat there, some wretched, some still wrapped in quilts, the sleet turned steadily back into a clammy, miserable rain. Marz and Nazih remained missing and hopeful protestations that they may have just been avoiding the weather were starting to ring hollow.

While Oksana was well-outfitted and ready, it was another hour and a half before the foreigners were prepared to commence their search. There was no staving off the rain or warming themselves with magic. The scions of families old, wealthy, and proud found themselves reduced to slogging along like the commonfolk, no different from them, for once, save the nicer cut of their clothes and heavier coinpurses. There was just enough wind to buffet and twist umbrellas, and Penny, who couldn’t hold one anyhow, instead found the hood of her raincloak repeatedly blown back.

They met up with Yuliya and Khaliun once more at the church, and the pair of missing boys was, once more, nowhere to be found. An entire morning spent knocking on the doors of locals eventually gained them the idea that a hegelan and a foreigner had headed for the cliffs and caves across from the monastery. A few had mentioned the collapse but, then again, the students had also offered money. Regardless of payment, however, and whether grizzled grannies or spry young men, the locals, peering out through barely-open doors into the inclement weather, urged them not to go. It was dangerous.

At this point, however, most of their consciences had been pricked and a fear that the worst had happened really began to set in. The ground was slick, muddy, and unforgiving. Roslyn nearly fell down a set of stairs, catching herself on a railing at the last second. Sven’s feet went out from under him when climbing up a slope. Penny fell three times, each progressively worse. She slid down a ravine after the last one and lay there in the mud and gravel, wrapping clammy, shivering arms about herself and sobbing softly. “We left them out there,” she mewed, from behind chattering teeth. “We let them die and this is our punishment.” She snorted up a long dribbler, small and sad and very much not the Penny that everyone else was used to. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I deserve it.”

There was a long, ragged scrape down her right forearm, and it trickled a trio of thin constant ribbons of blood into the remnants of her shredded sleeve. A lesser counterpart could be found on her hip and a deep bruise to go with it. They did not have magic here, however, and there was no healing to be done. She picked herself back up only after a few minutes and only with help, gently rolling a tender ankle back and forth before continuing.

Esmii identified the cave she had visited earlier and all agreed that it was a likely candidate. They headed hopefully for its mouth, eager to be out of the rain and muck, but it was fool’s gold. Every surface was slick and treacherous, the pale limestone mud thin but all-encompassing and relentlessly sticky. Natural light faded and Oksana took out a match and a lantern and they clustered together within its small, yellow-orange oasis of light.

Stalactites dripped and rivulets of pure, frigid water trickled from cracks in the stone. Everywhere was the sound of echoing droplets and moving water. Their breath formed little clouds of condensation before them and the temperature, if possible, dropped even further. Surfaces became coated with frost.

The going became slow, even as Esmii warned of the strange pulling sensation she had felt the last time. Water that she could’ve sworn had flowed alarmingly uphill last time gathered in a placid pool now. Penny continued to lag, the others having to stop repeatedly to let her catch up. Her cheeks flushed with shame at her inadequacy and they could hear her muttering beneath her breath, though none could make out what she said.

Fallen rocks became more common as they went, the cavern littered with them, in many cases sharp and new, recently carved from the chamber walls. Looks were exchanged. In a couple of places, it was a tight squeeze, and Sven had to drag a couple of boulders free just to fit. “I hate to be the one to say it,” Yvain announced, his voice the first to cut through the cold and silence for quite some time, “But I fear someone must: what if this is a dead end, or a false trail? We’ve been walking for some time and…” He trailed off, eyes roving about the other shadowed faces. “Well, given that we’ve found nothing, perhaps that’s all there is to find,” he concluded grimly.

“Five more minutesh.” It was Sven. “Five more and then I agree. We turn around.” He looked to the others, or what little he could see of them. There were either nods and murmurs of agreement or else abstentions, so they continued.

For the first time more or less since they’d woken up the previous accursed morning, there was good fortune to be found. “You feel that!?” Yuliya chirped gratefully and, indeed, the others did! “Magic! Thank Shune! I knew she's be back!” It was hazy at first, but it grew stronger as they walked, as if they were nearing the edge of the field. Roslyn leaned in close to Oksana and flipped open her book, leaning hunched over it to prevent any of the ever-present dripping water from wetting the pages. She made a small mark. “We’re far enough north that we’re leaving the device’s influence.” Satisfied, she clapped the journal shut and tucked it away. Others began conjuring flickering lights before long, and these bobbed about in the darkness, growing in luminosity as they went.

And then, it ended. Up ahead was a collapse. They shone their lights about - how they shone them! Yet, it was well and truly sealed. Then, Penny flung a rock free. She had her magic back and the others noticed belatedly that the scrapes and bruises were healed. She reached out and pulled a second one free. “What?” she retorted, when she noticed them staring at her. “We came all this way, we went through hell to get here, and we have our magic back. What are you waiting for?”

Even before she’d finished, Yuliya was working. Yvain, Sven, Oksana, and Roslyn soon joined. Spirits rose. Just being able to use magic again - to once more enjoy the agency they usually took for granted - it was phenomenal. So intense was the joy, so irrational, that a few even started singing work songs they’d heard from the plebs.

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There was a hand. It was cold, broken, and discoloured, and Roslyn scrambled back when she touched it, letting out a small sound of terror. It did not take Esmii’s energy scan to reveal that there was no life. Yuliya, wordless, pulled the last few boulders free with kinetic magic and there was the body. It was Nazih, or rather had been: someone they had fought alongside, laughed and joked with, shared lunches and classes with and he was… gone. This was just a lifeless remnant. More than one hid their eyes. The light that had animated them a mere minute earlier left the chamber and there was little else to fill it aside from the sounds of breathing and the occasional sob. This was one of theirs, no longer a youthful, invincible thing.

Dead.

It took a good couple of minutes for them to start up again. The body was moved with kinetic magic and set aside. It was covered with its own ragged cloak. Then, they started digging again, having scanned for anything abnormally-shaped, if only to brace themselves against the inevitability of a second body.

There was nothing, however. They went for another indeterminate amount of time, but probably a half-hour or so. Not a single sign of Marz was found by the time they reached the end of the cave-in, and so they continued, into its depths, reaching a second such obstacle, which they cleared with a few more minutes of magic exertion. Then, they reached a third. This, too, was shunted aside. Outside, the weather worsened, though they did not know it, and the sun began its descent.

The final collapse, however, revealed an undisturbed chamber beyond. Vast and dark, lit with the twinkling bioluminescence of fungi and tiny insects, it had an air of peace about it and a large, crystal clear pool that sparkled beneath the interlopers’ lights. A trio of olms quickly skittered away at their approach and then they had the cavern to themselves. There were a few stray rocks to be found, but whatever disturbance had created them was gone, a fact confirmed by Esmii in whispered wonder.

Sven glanced behind him. “I’ve heard that Darhannicsh should be bathed before they’re buried.” He let his light fade and, once the others had done so, the room lay once more in perfect, peaceful darkness.

It was some two hours later when they once again saw natural light. No body came with them. They had performed the ceremony to the best of their knowledge, spoken their words, and left their friend and classmate to the Gods. What they had not found, however, was Marz, and that failure lingered, intruding on what should have been a solemn silence. “You remember how a couple of the people we talked to gave a different answer?”

Oksana, able to lip read by lamplight, twisted and nodded. ”They say coolaps!” she confirmed excitedly. They were all in need of some hope. “Just so,” Penny concluded. “Then we go,” added Yuliya. “We look, find hegelan, bring back. Break any heads on way that needs breaking.”

A couple others chuckled at her bluntness, but the momentary mirth soon died. Wind howled and snow whipped across the cavern’s mouth, rendering the landscape beyond almost impossible to make out. With it, of course, came a ferocious chill that bit through clothing. Yuliya, so stalwart for most of their journey, was now lagging along with Penny, the two girls supporting each other. She suppressed a grimace. “I eat something bad, I think,” she said weakly, only half-joking. “I get to bed, rest, maybe puke… You know I’m tough, Penpen, ha?”

Whatever they’d planned for the remainder of the day was put on hold. Sven was brave enough to accompany Yuliya back to where she was staying and, partway through, Khaliun took over, hovering somewhere above them and above the magical interference, supporting her with kinetic magic. He barely made it back, exhausted and frostbitten. Penny had fallen twice more, but at least not been injured to any noteworthy extent. Roslyn was sneezing. Yvain had sprained his wrist somehow, and Esmii shivered beneath a mountain of blankets with Sven. Only Oksana had held up well. They gathered in the near-empty boys’ dormitory that night and discussed their plans for the next day.

These were not to be. The Stresian blizzard howled, crown jewel of a late cold snap, and utterly relentless. Windows were shuttered, animals stabled and swaddled in hay and blankets, and stockpiles of wood burned through as hearths stayed lit for almost the entire day. Ships sheltered in the harbour, animals huddled in their burrows, and Kirimansk drew into itself to ride out the storm. An entire day passed in futility. All that the seven students could do was play cards, talk, and drink around the fire, holding out hope that Yuliya was indeed alright and clinging to the faint likelihood that Marz had been… well, not killed, at least.

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Orredes dawned blessedly sunny, the morning light glistening with stark beauty upon the snow. In the distance, a herd of muskoxen made their way between the sparse pines and, within minutes, a hunting party had set off to go and hopefully make meat of them. The students were similarly motivated. They ate quickly, dressed warmly, and met, once more, in the rear pews of Dami the Shrewd. Already, the snow was beginning to melt and mud encroach upon its former domain, for such were the fickle vicissitudes of stresia.

“Today,” began Yuliya, after she rose from her morning prayers, “We do two things: we go this collapse and find Marz or someone who knows something, yes?” Esmii and Sven heartily agreed, and she nodded along with them. “Good. First, we pay visit to this gap in the cliffs, find Volti there, and beat him until he tells us why he’s here and where the magic boxes are. Maybe we get lucky and he knows where Marz is too.”

Scarcely half an hour had passed when a group of mostly-foreign youths, armed with guns and swords - many of these high quality pieces of Nikanese manufacture - arrived at the foot of the triple towers in the indent. The people who were milling about rushed to get out of their way. The women sweeping snow off of the outdoor stairs gathered their brooms and hurried inside. Shops closed their doors and animals were led anxiously away. It had cost a good deal of coin on the part of Yuliya, Yvain, and Penny, but they had money to spare.

Icicles hung, dripping, from the massive wooden towers and their skeletal external staircases and scaffolding. Chimes jingled in the wind and laundry flapped from various lines. Three large, rough-looking men stood at the base of the steps, and two more emerged from nearby doors at ground level, closing these behind themselves and unslinging the rifles from their backs. The weapons were not yet aimed at the students, but then one man with a red cap, who seemed to be the leader, spoke up. “Ты! Почему ты здесь? Что ты хочешь?” (You! Why are you here? What do you want?)

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【A Flash Against the Black】

【 Valerian & The Ogauraq /|\ Lucky Dragon & Golden Monkey】

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Night’s embrace, darkness, sleep, then noise and golden light. Valerian shot out of bed like a bullet, his body reacting before his mind could fully process having gone from asleep to awake. Yet, when his bleary eyes focused on the carnage unfolding around him, he felt the surge of adrenaline tear away the comforting grip of sleep. Though Dragon Smirk had healed up fine before they’d returned for the night after their unexpected and violent encounter with the Black Guard, Vel had never quite shaken the deep-seated sense of dread in his stomach.

Now–like bile–it rose up his throat and threatened to cloud his thoughts as a downright feral mage armed himself and lunged. It was at that moment that fear crystallized in his veins, and for a terrible instant, he was too stunned to act. The mage hurtled at him, terrifyingly fast and clearly far beyond his own skill or potency, yet Vel knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had to fight him anyways.

For a moment the figure’s countenance was that of another, of someone familiar. His brother.

Vel clenched his teeth, jaw popping as all his muscles tensed for in the next instant he’d remembered what had driven them to such conflict. Though it often left him uncertain, he had vowed to never be so powerless again. Four simultaneous actions happened in rapid succession. The first was the drawing of energy from every possible source around him.

Snow became ice as it and the air around it became absolutely frigid in the absence of heat; light dimmed dramatically as it pulled inwards towards his person; and the mountain winds died utterly in an instant as he drew upon the kinetic energy that fueled them.

He didn’t bother converting the energy but instead shunted some of the kinetic energy to his left in an attempt to avoid his adversary. At the same time, Valerian wreathed himself in a storm of fire, light, and force. If the man wanted to hit him, he’d just have to make that as painful as possible.

It didn’t seem it would matter as the yasoi grinned gleefully, arresting control of his own movement with kinetic magic, even as he turned the now icy ground into an advantage. In a brutal strike, and with a laugh, the figure swept the tent pole through the ice and sent a wave of force flying through the cloud of sharp shards.

Evaporating into steam as it collided with the storm of magic around Vel it blinded him during a critical moment. Instinctively several barriers of force sprang into being around his body.

Then he was hurtling back through the air, the breath knocked out of him entirely. Gasping, Vel stuck to his training and clawed at the air. Planes of forces manifested beneath his fingers, and he redirected his momentum, curving himself violently to one side even as a lance of force–then a blur that could only be a body–rocketed past him. Regaining some of his composure, Vel managed to reorient himself just as his assailant was striking him square in the stomach.

The air left his lungs once more as the yasoi’s fist slammed him backward. Vel tried to swear, but no sound came out. He tried to retaliate, with daggers of kinetic energy, but the man spun the tent pole and deflected them before aiming a wicked-fast strike at his temple.

This, Vel just barely avoided, the metal pole ruffling his hair as it slipped overhead. Drawing upon some of the energy he was pulling, Vel converted it into a single point between them, but it immediately blasted apart. Flying downwards and striking earth, Vel tumbled a moment before he could bleed off momentum with magic.

Eyes darting about as he realized that he’d been thrown into the nearby grove of trees, Vel tried to sight his opponent. It was fruitless, the man was simply too fast as he darted between pines, apparently waiting for the first sign of weakness–or perhaps just a particularly amusing moment. Vel gritted his teeth and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. They wouldn’t be enough to help him. Focusing, Vel narrowed his attention to his surroundings, honing in on the moving goliath of manas and their gathered energy as it flitted around him.

There!

Vel released kinetic energy, creating a series of forcefields at precise timings as his adversary’s energy approached at speed.

Somehow, his timing was off for most either missed entirely, were batted aside, or simply shattered.

Vel’s eyes flashed open as his second spell completed–the backup plan–creating an energy-dense series of interlocking planes of energy. A thunderous crack echoed out, though it was likely no one else heard it.

“Hah!” The man laughed, his improvised staff–the tent pole–having met with an invisible object at that last moment. Vel was already releasing all the heat energy he’d gathered earlier in a tight thermal beam. The yasoi’s eyes widened as the beam blitzed past their weapons and magics and landed a searing blow across his side as the more experienced mage turned sideways to minimize his profile.

He flicked the pole and the force in that attack was enough to throw off Vel’s defense and force him three steps back. The Blackguard capitalized on every mistake, his weapon spinning back into motion in a whirling dervish of strikes at Vel’s person.

Some he could stop or redirect, but a great many turned into glancing blows, his assailant’s manic grin widening for each blow Vel took. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Vel knew he needed to change tacts, but wasn’t sure exactly why.

His timing should’ve been enough, but for some reason, the bastard’s strikes just kept slipping past his defenses. He tried adjusting his timing as blow after blow came in, each from a new angle and with greater force than those prior. Then—during the tiniest of instants between strikes—Vel struck at the Blackguard’s weapon from below with a series of kinetic spikes.

Only one of them did the job, and the yasoi only gave Vel an instant to realize the strange discrepancy that had caused his failures to defend.

Temporal warping.

Vel’s eyes narrowed and he threw himself into the air with a pulse of force to avoid the yasoi’s next strike. In that tiny window of respite, several thoughts crossed his mind in rapid succession.

Should he surpass his limit, risk everything today and be useless in the coming fights? No, the Twins had to fall.

What could he do then, how to survive, not to mention save his allies if at all possible. He wasn’t fast enough to slip away, he had no talent for the schools that might allow him to teleport elsewhere, let alone account for the exact nature of his adversary’s attacks.

So what did he have?

His eyes widened slightly, then his face transformed into a resolute mask.

He had his blood.

For once in his life, Valerian silently thanked the gods for his father’s obsession. After all, he was a Dualblood and while he couldn’t risk overclocking his manas, that was hardly the only benefit his unique situation afforded him.

As if to punctuate his realization, a sudden surge of energy beneath him tipped him off to the Black Guard’s next move. His senses screamed, but he didn’t panic.

Instead, he reached out with his will and pulled. Immediately he felt his adversary’s resistance, but for once it didn’t matter, while the Blackguard was certainly more powerful and more experienced, Vel had something that he didn’t.

Two mana colonies and the tremendous focus it took to micromanage and control them.

His will honed to a narrow point, Vel at once altered his orientation so he was parallel to the ground and pulled energy. Shaping his draw into a precise cone, Vel parted a veritable inferno around his person as it erupted upwards from the ground like some fell god.

Still, the air was almost hot enough to burn, but he persisted nonetheless, reaching out his senses past the flames and latching onto the moving target that was the Golden Monkey.

The Blackguard did not let up, the flames turning from red, to orange, then blue. Valerian gritted his teeth as he felt the beginnings of burns touch his flesh, yet he did not relent, traveling down and through the column with abandon as he drew as much energy as he possibly could. That power became like searing, crackling lightning in his veins, but he persisted anyways, even allowing some of the energy to saturate the air around him as light. Then, locating his adversary, Vel abruptly sundered the Black Guard’s magic, not by coopting the energy, but instead by using a typically defensive binding technique, and his understanding of Chemical magic to convert the very air the flames used as fuel into energy.

The inferno guttered out, the sky darkened, and Vel unleashed his attack as he felt hesitation in the Golden Monkey’s casting. The Blackguard tried to breathe, and drew only the tiniest amount of air from his surroundings, revealing that Vel hadn’t just drawn from the air in the column, but in a vast web, creating an entire network of spiderweb-thin threads of air. Momentarily stunned, the yasoi nonetheless shot into motion, but Vel tasted the beginnings of doubt.

Unable to help himself, a tiny smirk formed on his lips, and then all that energy he’d stockpiled was suddenly–and violently–converted into two separate charges as he called on what little knowledge of the Magnetic school he had.

The air exploded in a single, tremendous, rolling thunderclap as lightning arced wildly outwards from Valerian, channeled through a vast web of conductive air surrounded by utter vacuum. The Yasoi threw up barriers of force, drew heat from the bolts, and evaded a great many bolts of lightning, but no one could escape the wrath of the heavens forever. Little by little arcs of coruscating light closed in on him and while they did, Valerian fled at speed, propelled by Kinetic energy alone as he flew through the air and rejoined his allies.

He knew he’d not won, not even close, in fact, he’d likely only tied up the Black Guard for a brief time, and in exchange he’d burned, bruised, and battered himself both body and manas alike. Still, he hadn’t boosted himself, hadn’t let the careful balance of his colonies shift enough to collapse. Still, as he looked back at his work he noticed a terrible truth…the other Blackguard had intervened.

“Fuck,” Vel swore, but in the next moment, he felt the familiar touch of chemical magic and the particular sort he’d only experienced from the Ogauraq.

An image of something swiftly falling towards the camp, then an impression of space twisting, and an image of somewhere else far away.

Vel didn’t hesitate, didn’t think, he just redoubled his speed and hurtled towards the earth, before bracing himself and slowing to a halt just in time. Couldn’t stop all at once after all, ‘falling’ to one’s death was something of a misnomer after all…as it wasn’t the fall that killed you, but the sudden stop.

As he slid into camp, erecting barriers and slinging pairs of force lances and fireballs, he caught sight of his allies engaged in fierce combat. For a moment he understood the terror the patrolmen had likely been experiencing as he saw the Ogauraq–few in number though they were–tear both physically and magically through the Retanese shock troops. Still, they were outnumbered and Vel did his part to free up enough of them so that a pair could rig them a tunnel out of dodge.

Senses finetuned, Vel erected barriers, superheated metal armor, and generally unleashed a storm of mayhem amongst the enemy soldiers until a hole twisted in space behind him. Gritting his teeth, Vel’s gaze flickered back to the cage of lightning that was beginning to dissipate some distance away from them. Then he watched in horror–eyes widening, as that very lightning began to gather together and arc towards them.

“Portal, now!” he yelled, managing a few frantic disorderly illusions as he grabbed several Ogauraq with telekinesis and pulled them into the portal with him. Eyes widening further as the others leapt in after him, Valerian screamed out as an Ogauraq who was a moment too late light up in a conflagration of azure lightning a mere instant before the portal slammed shut behind them, spitting them out in some other stretch of wilderness nearby the capital.

Heartbeat drumming in his ears, blood pumping as if a dam had been broken, Valerian collapsed onto his ass, breathing hard and filled with a cold terror.

He hoped the others were having better luck than him.

Vel looked forward to finding out.

Sleep, the most important function of any living being, one that determines the productivity of any person. Within stone walls that reverberate any sound made and a man who snores like a knife scraping across slate, having a restful sleep was difficult. Marz thankfully had been through similar situation, so having any bit of sleep was good enough in his mind. What Marz was upset about was the fact that they were awoken in a very abrupt way, a loud bell began to ring throughout the halls which reverberated through the ears and directly to the bones.

The monks began to walk through the halls, making sure each cell was awake and were then ordered into different lines. Each line being assigned different tasks for the day, Marz was ordered into one group, one that was filled with many different craftsmen of different crafts. Men and women with larger builds, smaller builds, burns and calluses in different locations of the hands, even tan marks around the face in specific locations for different eye wear and face wear associated with different crafts. Among the group of people Marz noticed a very particular person, Choran, in a small moment their eyes met a flash of hostility was felt from both of them. Marz heard multiple monks notice and yelled at them to stay away from each other. After which, the group began to head off to the manufacturing floor.

Marz felt the eyes of everyone around him laid down onto his movements. They were watching his every move, wondering if he would make a slip up, one false move that would give him away as some kind of rat in their midst. Soon enough this deep stare from all directions faded away once they entered a set of 2 large doors, each with enough width to allow multiple grown to pass by each other with ease. The doors themselves seem to be made of a thick wood with much wear and damage across the door similar to the damage a cart would deal when hit against an object.

Once the group entered the manufacturing floor Marz was able to see the working conditions of these smiths, and all he could think is how awful these were. Smelly and damp air filled the nostrils as it smelt as if this place was only sweat. The heat in the manufacture floor assaulted the body and mouth, making the body heat up quickly and dry the mouth. The forges seemed well made but any good smith would know that they would bleed heat and making forging much harder to even work. The anvils were solid metal, yet the face of them seemed scaled over with many imperfections that would transfer to the metal and make any product rough and require countless hours of sanding and polishing to make it remotely smooth.

Marz' face looked at the tools, the work stations, the material, all of it being completely unacceptable in Marz' mind. Noticing Marz' face, a monk comes over to scold him, "What? Is something wrong?"

Marz looked to the man and was about to berate the man and the many others here about these conditions, but he noticed something from the corner of his eye, it seemed some of the other Hegelans looked to him, pleading silently to not say anything. Marz wasn't sure why, he would expect craftsmen of high caliber to wish for adequate working conditions, yet they seemed to try and tell him this is the conditions they wanted. Marz knew something was going on with the other Hegelans, with a mole involved, they may have a plan that required these harsher conditions. Marz answered the monk who has now gotten into his face and began to tower over Marz, "The smell of some of these pigs is awful".

Like the many others here, Marz was set to work, because of the little information the monks had on his skill, they tasked him with gunsmithing to test his skill. Forming a barrel, the firing mechanism, working wood, forming and making the tools needed, much of the work expected to prove oneself as a competent smith. Yet as Marz felt stares fall upon him, he began to stares and watch back. Paying attention to the many people working within this dark, hot, and difficult enviroment. Everyone's work here seemed sloppy, slow, and all around inadequate for even an adept to even be able to call these things of any quality. Marz decided to match the pace, of all his work he learned when he was younger, the faster you work, the more work you do.

Half way through the day, Marz has made some progress on the tools he would eventually use to form the firing mechanism. Yet his flow was interrupted by the ringing of a bell, a bell that signaled everything within these prison walls. When to sleep, when to eat, when to leave, and many more things. This time thankfully it was signaling the meal time where Marz was able to meet with Venna. Again, the food is quite drab, soup and bread, the soup should be called 'Flavor' as it was the only way Marz could think of this food being able to taste like anything. Once he sat down, Venna found him quickly enough by seeing his large size and sitting across from him as she was the first to spark conversation, "So how were things?"

Marz shrugged as he spoke before putting a spoon full of soup into his mouth, "Eh, its work, it felt annoyin' with ev'rything there, it seems ev'ryone else has some alternative motive".

Venna nodded as she spoke in more hushed tones, "I know, they are definitly up to somethin'. I can 'ell whit what I see, and it is good, it means they aren't buying things 'ere". Venna sighs as she takes a spoon full of soup and seems to grumble quietly. Something akin to her knowing nothing and being left out of the loop. Among the grumbling, Marz ate his food, wondering, as eyes continued to look at him, what the other Hegelans here were doing.

Back on the manufacturing floor, Marz returned to his work with making tools for gunsmithing. It came to a shock to him when he saw Venna come over to him with a large cart, "'Ello, can I get ya anythin'?"

Marz said quizzically, "What'd ya got?"

Venna lightly gestured to the cart, "Water, flux, files, whetstones, and a whole assortment of tings".

Marz nodded his head as he wiped some of the sweat off of his head, "Uhm, ya, some water".

Venna nodded as she took out this small metal cup that she ladled water into. Marz took hold of it and quickly downed the water before Venna took it back and made some more conversation with Marz before she moved on, where she began asking them much the same. Venna's job seemed much more like an apprentice's when working in a large shop. Marz was curious when he saw this, he was wondering if she did this work in one of the areas. This had to be something Marz needed to ask her later, as it might give him an idea of what kind of other work is done here.

Marz continued to work and watch everyone, and began to notice soemthing perculiar about the amount of bathroom breaks taken. There was a highly unusual amount of bathroom breaks being taken in a very set interval. Marz began counting the time inbetween each break by the beat of his hammer hitting the metal and when he was not hitting it, the anvil. This was something every smith knew would keep themselves in motion and keeping their own time when forging. Marz noticed that with every 5 minute bathroom break, another person clocked out to use the restroom 2 minutes after the person returned. Marz continued to watch and count, as once he noticed most others were looking away and focusing on their work, Marz left his station to clock out at the exact moment the person had to return, breaking the cycle the others had made.

Once Marz began to leave, he was looked at with scorn, yet none of them could mess with him, as he was the only one allowed to be gone at the moment. Feeling satisfied, Marz began to make his way to the directed bathroom where he ran into one of his cellmates, Choran. When their eyes met they both stared at the other as if they were about to brawl, yet Choran looked around and realized it was only Marz. Marz threw a thumb behind him as he said, "Move, I need to shit". Choran begrudgingly left, bumping shoulders into Marz before he left.

The moment Marz entered the privy, his eyes darted around as he began to look around the enclosed space. There had to be a reason they constantly came here, as it was in that moment Marz' eyes landed on in. He dropped to one knee as he thought for a moment where could only a Hegelan could reach, Marz took a deep breath as he stuck his arm into the toilet hole where he reach behind where the hole is, he could feel an empty space where there would be a vent to allow the smell to leave, it was a space impossible to reach, well impossible for those with long arms. For Hegelans, they had arms short enough to allow them to hook their arm into the space without falling in, as Marz found some strange object. He pulled it out and stepped away from the toilet, beginning to inspect it. The object seemed intricate, yet also makeshift and crude. Marz was about to begin his inspection more thoroughly, however he heard a slamming at the door and the door was nearly thrown open.

Marz turned to see Choran had returned, and the man seemed furious, "What are you doin' in 'ere? Yer sure as shit ain't takin one!"

Marz was about to rebuttal yet he saw from the corner of his eye a shadow turning the corner. He stood up and put the device behind his back, using his back loop to hang it off of precariously as the monk called out, "What are you two doing?" The monk turned to Choran as he said, "You, why are you out here, you are supposed to be back on the floor".

Choran seemed to be almost dumbfounded while the monk got closer, Marz quickly came up with a quick cover before the monk forced a search, "Choran here was helpin' me find the privy, am not too good wit directions an the dark is hard on me eyes". The monk looked to Marz for a moment and then to Choran, Choran nodded in agreement as the monk looked to Marz and waved his hand, "Finish then". Marz nodded as he grabbed the handle of the door and he backed up into the privy, where when he closed the door, he did so with a solid thud and then set his knees down onto it hard, making it where is sounded like he sat back. There he leaned in and put the device back into the little hidden hole, and then let out a fart into the toilet.

Once Marz left the toilet, he and Choran were escorted back to the manufacturing floor, there Choran and Marz' eyes met, and Choran nodded to Marz. Once they returned they were both told to return to their work stations.

Once the work day finished the bell that controlled the flow of life within these tunnels rung, informing everyone that it is time for supper. The same motions as the day before, all the Hegelans were put into a flowing line that travelled to the dinning hall. Everyone collected their tasteless stew and bread. Marz found a place where he sat across from Venna, and the two of them started talking about the day's gossip. However the strange thing was that other Hegelans came and sat around them. They all came and nodded to him, with the one to sit next to him was the charismatic Hegelan who seemed to try and interrogate him the previous night, "Thanks fella". Nothing more, leaving Venna in the dark, as many look to her with wary looks. Leaving Venna confused why they looked to her and speaking in secrets, but for Marz, he knew they were thanking him for keeping the secret of the device.

Once dinner was done, Marz returned to his cell, and the mood within seemed much more calm. Hostilities within seemed to have lifted as Khalud seeming to be acting like a much more livelier friend who even welcomed Marz into the cell, "Marz! How was your first day!" They seemed much friendlier, each of them regarding him in their own way. Choran opened up from their originally hostile relationship, Khalud was very friendly and wishing to make conversation. Even Mazan, the old silent man even opened up as he regarded Marz with a nod.

Choran was the first one to break the silence as he said, "Thanks again".

Marz did a nod then a light head toss while he said, "What's going on here?" Marz being one who always is to the point didn't want to play around the issues.

Choran chuckled to himself as he said, "A man to the point I see. One after my own heart".

Marz looked to him with a face that showed disgust, "What does that mean?"

Choran continued as if he never heard Marz, "So, the monks here, we believe they aren't real. They're too worried about certain things, not much about the religious, more about the profit. This entire situation might be us being trapped in this confined hole till they are done with us".

Khalud the chimed in, "So instead of being some cog in their machine, we have been stallin' on their magic dampenin' work and have been doin' our own than'. You know, the one ye found".

Choran spoke up once more, "However, we ran into some snags, things we haven't been able to figure out".

Mazen then interjected, "So the problem we have been running into is…" Mazen then began to talk for nearly an hour about the many technical difficulties they have ran into.

Marz nodded once Mazen finished, "I'll be honest old man, I don't know a damn thing you said. I work better with my hands".

Choran then promised, "Tomorrow we will bring you in on it, it'll require some time, but having your eyes might be the thing we need".

Once it came time for everyone to sleep, things ended quite normally. Mazan began to snore like a half clockwork engine, yet Marz had slightly became more accustomed to it. Which made it all the more strange when he thought he heard a scratching sound. Marz began to listen to the scratching as it continued inbetween Mazan's snoring, telling him it was something else. Marz turned to listen as he thought he could hear the sound coming from Choran and Khalud's side of the room.

Marz began to turn and sit up, yet the moment he sat up to try and investigate, it stopped, and never returned for that night.

As the group prepared to depart, Maura found herself remaining behind. With a gentle wave, she bid farewell alongside Qadara, Xiulan, Wu Long, and the Inn’s owner and family as the others disappeared through the portal.

A tinge of curiosity flickered in her eyes as she turned her gaze towards Wu Long, who stood before them, his words lingering in the air. "I must rest to regain my strength," Wu Long stated with a solemn tone, his eyes scanning the gathered individuals. "You will watch over this body of mine." Maura tilted her head, a mix of puzzlement and intrigue colouring her expression. "Are you going to support them?" she asked, seeking clarification.

The Exemplar lowered his head in a respectful nod before he made his way towards one of the inn's dorm rooms. "I have a plan, child," he replied cryptically. "My immediate appearance would only interfere." With those enigmatic words, he disappeared into the room, leaving Maura and Xiulan to exchange bewildered glances.

Maura turned her attention to Xiulan, hoping for some clarity. "That does mean yes, right?" she inquired, her voice tinged with uncertainty. Xiulan, equally perplexed, furrowed her brow and offered a hesitant response. "I think so," she replied, her voice reflecting her confusion. "Perhaps he just needs to rest first."

---

Maura engaged in a deep discussion with Yin and Mr. Wei, the innkeepers who had been hesitant to reveal their plan at first. As she shared Ingrid's words, the family gradually opened up, explaining their intentions in more detail. Their plan involved setting fire to the inn, making it appear accidental or the result of external hostilities. In the aftermath, Mr. Wei would file a petition with the local magistrate's office, presenting the circumstances surrounding the fire and seeking compensation.

Upon submitting a formal petition, detailing the circumstances of the fire and requesting compensation, the local magistrate would undertake an investigation. The magistrate's office would carefully assess the extent of the damage and take appropriate action. Considering that Wanggang held a significant position as the jewel of the Retannese Empire, it was anticipated that the magistrate would allocate resources to assist the affected individuals.

The allocated resources could potentially include financial aid or materials to aid in the reconstruction of the tavern. This support aimed to rejuvenate the area, ensuring that it maintained the necessary level of prestige and prominence. The magistrate's involvement would help uphold the reputation of Wanggang as a thriving and prosperous location within the empire.

Maura listened attentively as they outlined their reasoning. Being caught using magic had placed them in a precarious situation, one that resonated with Xiulan's own experiences. To ensure their safety and that of young Yong, who possessed the power gazer mana-type, they believed it was necessary to flee and start anew. Their hope was to use the insurance money to fund their escape, assuming new identities in a different location.

After a thorough discussion, Maura offered an alternative solution. She proposed that the family relocate to Longwang, where she planned to establish a bustling entrepôt. In this scenario, they would be compensated with an inn in Longwang as an investment in their future, and easily securing a more favourable rate for the property than they would receive as mere compensation. This arrangement would provide them with a legitimate means to relocate, eliminating the need for them to commit further crime and fraud, requiring them to go into hiding.

With the approaching events of the following day, Maura encouraged Mr. Wei and Yin to consider the various paths available to them throughout the night. They would need to reflect on their choices and determine the best course of action for their future.

---

As the night grew late, the ambiance in the tavern shifted to a quiet calmness, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter from the two girls. Maura had introduced Xiulan to the Game of Liar's Dice, and they found amusement in their friendly competition.

"If there is a mention of the governor of Longwan one more time..." Xiulan chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief as the girls discussed. "Wasn't it worth it just to see Captain Zhao's reaction? Although, we think my joke got lost in translation. If only that other translator had your skill, maybe he would have dared cracked a smile," Maura added with a playful grin.

Meanwhile, Qadira, exhausted from the day's events, had curled up nearby and let out a contented yawn. “Do you think the others will be okay?” Sensing Xiulan's concern, Maura paused for a moment and sighed. "They are strong, much stronger than me. If anything, we might only get in their way," she admitted, her tone tinged with a hint of self-doubt.

Xiulan shook her head vigorously. "No, Maura. You're wrong. Not many people would have faced that Nikanese lady like you did. You have spirit," she affirmed, her voice filled with admiration. Maura smiled warmly and squeezed Xiulan's hand in gratitude.

"We were absolutely terrified, and to be honest, still am," Maura confessed. "It's naive, but we had this vision of it all being like a children's book, you know? The hero overcomes great evil, makes the world a better place, and ends up with a princess." She smirked mischievously. "Well, we're at least a third of the way there," she added, winking at Xiulan.

Xiulan dismissed the comment about being a princess, her expression turning more serious. "They hid the fact that I am a true Jiang. It only fuels my resentment toward the Twin Emperors. To possess this magic, the ability to do good, and yet be unable to use it..." Her voice trailed off, filled with frustration.

Maura contemplated Xiulan's words. "To have everything and be unable to use it, or to have nothing and yearn to be able to do more... Who has it worse?" she pondered, her voice tinged with a mix of empathy and curiosity.

---

As time passed, a growing sense of unease enveloped Maura and Xiulan. "Wu Long still hasn't returned from his rest," Maura finally voiced her concern, her tone marked with a hint of determination. "We should go and check on him."

Navigating the inn with caution, the two girls proceeded towards Wu Long's room, their footsteps muffled against the worn wooden floor. With hesitant hands, they gingerly pushed open the door, revealing a room shrouded in darkness. The air hung heavy with silence, broken only by the faint sound of their breathing.

"Wu Long..." Maura's voice echoed softly, her words carrying a mixture of apprehension and respect. "We apologize for the intrusion," Xiulan added, her tone more formal as she addressed the revered Exemplar. But their words received no response, the room remaining eerily still.

Peering into the dimly lit space, they could discern the silhouette of Wu Long's motionless body on the bed. A gasp escaped Xiulan's lips, her voice filled with disbelief. "Is he... is he dead?"

Maura's instincts kicked in immediately as she sprang into action, her mind focused on assessing the situation and taking swift measures. She drew upon her magic, the energy coursing through her veins, as she meticulously scanned the area for any potential Dangers lurking nearby. Turning to Xiulan, she urged her to be ready to seek assistance if necessary, hoping they wouldn't need to activate that contingency plan of bringing others in Response.

Approaching Wu Long's motionless body with a sense of purpose, Maura moved with the precision of a trained medic. She carefully inspected his Airways, gently lifting his chin to ensure they remained clear. Placing her ear against his lips, she listened intently for any signs of Breathing, her eyes trained on his chest to observe if it rose and fell with each breath. To her immense relief, she detected the subtle rise and fall of his chest, indicating that he was indeed breathing on his own.

A sigh of relief escaped Maura's lips as she realized there was no immediate need for chest Compressions. Her initial assessment had yielded positive results, and a sense of hope surged within her.

She turned to Xiulan, her voice filled with a mixture of determination and concern, "Help me position him on his side. It's important to prevent any potential choking." Xiulan, still bewildered by the situation, looked to Maura for answers, "What... what's happening?"

Maura's frown deepened as she responded, her voice tinged with worry, "We're not entirely sure, but he is breathing, even though it may not appear that way." With Xiulan's assistance, they carefully manoeuvred Wu Long into the recovery position, ensuring his airways were clear.

Maura's hands moved over Wu Long's body, utilizing her binding magic to conduct a thorough examination. Despite her efforts, there was no response from Wu Long's dormant state. She spoke with a sense of solemn realization, "The Exemplar is in a state of deep sleep or coma. His bodily functions are operating at a significantly reduced rate, similar to an animal hibernating. However, there is no brain activity whatsoever. It's as if he's in a vegetative state."

Xiulan's eyes filled with distress as she looked down at Wu Long's motionless form. Her voice trembled as she protested, "He... he can't be dead. We need him."

Maura looked up at Xiulan, her eyes filled with determination and a glimmer of hope. She then turned her attention back to Wu Long, contemplating a potential solution. "There might be a way. It would be easier if Rikard were here. By passing an electric current through his brain, we could induce a seizure, which should significantly increase brain activity and potentially wake him up. We'll need your help to make it happen."

With Maura taking charge of preparing the necessary anaesthesia, the girls held hands as Xiulan provided her vast reserves of energy to support Maura throughout the procedure. They began the process, their combined efforts aimed at generating the electric current. The electricity crackled and arced from Maura's hand, coursing through Wu Long's head and into his brain. Despite their efforts, Wu Long's lifeless body remained mostly still, offering little response.

Maura could sense a surge of activity within Wu Long's brain as neurons fired, but almost instantly, she felt his manas fiercely resisting their intervention. "His manas are fighting against us! We need more power." Xiulan squeezed Maura's hand tighter, channelling as much energy as she could muster, but their attempts proved futile as Wu Long's manas absorbed the shock, extinguishing the glimmer of hope they had.

Maura released a heavy sigh, her voice filled with disappointment and concern. "His manas are too strong. They’re absorbing the shock, preventing any significant impact on his condition."

The two girls stood before Wu Long's motionless body, their options dwindling as they struggled to find a solution. Maura's mind raced, trying to find any glimmer of hope in the midst of their despair. Xiulan's question cast a gloomy shadow over their thoughts. "Do your children's books have a solution for this?" she asked, her voice tinged with sadness.

Maura let out a sigh, her brows furrowing in deep thought. "Well, there is one story about a Kerreman countess named Margerethe and the Seven Hegelans. In that tale, she was poisoned and fell into a deep slumber. The Handsome Prince woke her with a kiss, and they lived happily ever after," she explained, pausing for a moment before turning to Xiulan. "Do you... fancy giving him a kiss to bring him back to life?"

Xiulan's eyes widened in surprise, her words stumbling as she tried to respond. "M-Maura, I think... I think we should do something. But... I don't know if I can... uh... perform the... kiss."

Maura's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, realizing the misunderstanding. "Oh, no, Xiulan! It's not a romantic kiss at all! It's simply a way to resuscitate him. We have to save him!"

Xiulan blushed deeply, her gaze shifting downward. Her voice quivered with hesitation. "Oh, I-I see. It's just... in the story, there is a romantic twist to it, and... well, I didn't want to assume..."

Maura couldn't contain her amusement and let out a giggle. "No, no, it's not like that at all. It would be just a life-saving technique. Here, kiss the back of his hand. That should work." She gently raised Wu Long's hand and offered it to Xiulan. The princess leaned in awkwardly and pressed her lips against the back of his hand, both of them anxiously waiting for some sign of life.

"Maura, it didn't do anything. It was only a children's tale," Xiulan said disappointedly. Maura glanced at Wu Long, deep in thought. "Perhaps it needs to be on the lips," she mused.

"No, Maura. If you want him to be kissed, do it yourself," Xiulan replied, her annoyance evident. Maura paused, a mischievous smile spreading across her face. "You're right. Perhaps we should do it," she said, her eyes gleaming with determination.

“You’re a Governor, a Trade-Princess doesn’t count”, Xiulan reminded, Maura countered. “Governor of Longwang, the Island of the Dragon King. That would put me higher authority than just a regular dragon, right?”

Xiulan's eyes widened in shock. "No, no, Maura, don't..."

But Maura had already climbed onto the bed, positioning herself over Wu Long. "Alright, Wu Long, listen to me. The Governor of Longwan demands that you awaken!" With that, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, hoping for a miraculous response.

Xiulan cringed, her face contorting in disbelief as she watched the scene unfold. Maura pulled back, her expression unamused. "That felt like we just kissed my father," she remarked, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

Xiulan couldn't help but retort, "Imagine allowing the Exemplar to have dignity in death."

Maura's blush deepened, realizing the implications of her actions. "He is so lucky to receive not one, but two kisses from princesses," she muttered, a mix of embarrassment and amusement in her voice.

"Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated," Wu Long stated with a slight smile. Maura and Xiulan let out surprised gasps, their eyes widening at his sudden awakening. He gestured to his lips, then to the back of his hand, as if testing his senses, before sitting up.

"I thank you both for taking such great care in watching over me," Wu Long expressed his gratitude, seemingly unaffected by the previous events. He stood up and made his way to the door, his demeanour enigmatic. "We will reconvene when the time is right," he said, his words carrying an air of certainty.

Maura and Xiulan exchanged puzzled glances as they watched him leave the room. They were left with a mixture of awe and confusion, unsure of what had just transpired.

---

As Maura settled into bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on her, she hoped for a peaceful night's sleep. One could easily understand if her lack of rest could be attributed to the series of extraordinary events she had recently experienced. From the daring adventure within the forbidden city to the perilous brushes with death, not once but twice, alongside her friends. Add to that the encounters with Ash, the enigmatic Black Guard, and the harrowing ordeal of Wu Long's near-death experience. And let's not forget the anxiety-inducing fact that her beloved had ventured through a mysterious portal, leading to unknown and undoubtedly treacherous realms. However, her rest was repeatedly disrupted by a persistent and bothersome chicken.

“Squawk!”

Driven to the point of frustration, Maura finally succumbed to the temptation of dealing with the chicken. She ventured outside into the cool night air, determined to silence the noisy creature. The strange looking chicken was causing mayhem, and yet, rather than resorting to violence, she decided on a more compassionate approach. Utilizing her binding magic, she closed the chicken's beak, hoping to restore tranquillity to the inn.

To her surprise, the chicken seemed to wait for the opportune moment to continue its clucking. As Maura went outside once more, she couldn't help but notice that the chicken had grown even larger since their last encounter. Rubbing her eyes in disbelief, she dismissed it as a trick of the night, attributing the unusual size to her weary mind. She gently lifted the chicken and placed it outside the inn's gate, urging it to find a more suitable place to make its noise down the street. “Go and make yourself into a tasty Shāo jī”

As she made her way back inside, a sense of relief washed over Maura. However, her attention was drawn to the coop, where she spotted a single egg. It was a curious sight, and she carefully relocated the egg to a cosy spot in the straw-filled area of the coop. Satisfied with her efforts, she finally returned to bed, hoping that the disturbances were at an end.

As the night progressed, the chicken's clucking ceased, and Maura was finally able to drift off into a much-needed slumber, her mind momentarily free from the chaos and challenges that had plagued her in recent days.

The chicken had clucked off.

---

As the night pressed on, the faint rumbling of wagons grew louder with the early morning light beginning to cast its gentle glow over the horizon. Fatigued and still mentally immersed in slumber, Maura wearily ventured out to greet the retainers who had arrived with carriages laden with a selection of appropriate attire befitting the occasion of dining in the presence of the Twin Emperors. After fulfilling the necessary paperwork and formalities, she eagerly made her way back to her room, yearning for a moment of respite and tranquility.

“Xiulan, they have brought us clothes!” On the lack of any response, she couldn't help but mutter in exasperation about being the one constantly interrupted from her slumber, all the while motioning dismissively towards Xiulan's room in the hope of finding solace and peace at last.

Finally.

---

---

Ayla was left high and dry with her current experience, being made to feel isolated and disconnected. She did a few errands like playing as a make shift taxi for Tku, and Zazzy had soon disappeared somewhere. Being Ingrid for the day was not as good as she thought it would be. She was left wondering and pondering why they were even in the desert to begin with and their greater purpose. Part of her wonders if they should try to contact Jocasta in some way, perhaps she might be able to advise them.

As she waited for the effects to wear off, Ayla's curiosity led her to wonder about the whereabouts of Benny. “Where is he?” She hadn't seen him since the storm, and taking a moment to reorient herself, she realized the direction they had arrived from. Deciding to embark on an exploration, the 200-foot giant began sprinting back towards where they had started, marvelling at how quickly her surroundings passed by at a speed of 400 mph. Then she made a mistake. Her thoughts took an unfortunate turn when she wondered about the potential use of kinetic magic. “What if we went faster…” The realization of the answer resulted in an immense sonic boom as her 200-foot form broke through the sound barrier.

The consequences were severe.



The shockwave erupted with the force of a nuclear explosion, causing the surrounding sand to blast outward. The air crackled as it was alive with the intensity of the destructive force. Sensing the immediate danger, the sonic mage mentally grabbed upon the strings of shockwave, instinctively redirecting them back upon herself. The blast wave pursued her, colliding with her as she propelled herself into it.

The sheer aerodynamic forces sent Ayla hurtling through the air, far beyond her intended destination. Leaving a trail of destruction in her wake, she eventually rolled to a stop, lying face down on the distant section of the desert's sandy terrain.

She laid face down in the sand, before blowing and spitting it out of her mouth. She slowly picked herself up from the ground as she began the process of walking back at a far more modest 120mph. Furthermore, she surveyed the area as she looked under and around a couple of ruins and ziggurats, but there appeared to be no sign of the boy. Though he would have most definitely heard her if he was around. However, her repeated calls yielded no response, indicating his absence.

She returned to the spot outside the city, discovering that Tku had been busy during her absence, leaving a pair of outfits for her. Observing the surroundings, she noticed a sand scorpion skittering in the dunes. Intrigued, she approached for a closer look, only to find herself returning to her normal size as her clothing transformed into a makeshift tent.

Ensuring privacy, she found herself standing naked, contemplating between a vibrant-coloured dress with lace and a modest burlap outfit. Opting for the dress, she adorned herself with it, wearing the lion medallion crafted by Tku. "Who knew Tku was so skilled in women's clothes. And he even got the size right," she mused, slightly disappointed by the damage her hair had sustained during the battle with the raiders. She had to resign herself to the fact this continued assault upon her hair was going to continue, deciding on not bothering to correct the colour, as she then resembled that of a finely dressed calico cat.

---

With her new attire, Ayla embarked on an exploration. She leaped onto a wall, entering a realm of mansions and gardens, where she marvelled at the sight of strange fairytale-like beings and Sirrahi going about their tasks, paying her little attention. As she continued to explore, she overheard a conversation in pigeon Avincian, straining to understand the discussion

At that moment, she sensed several of the peculiar creatures and Sirrahi approaching her. Deciding it was best to be proactive, she began approaching the Cazenax who had been engaged in casual conversation, warmly waving towards them. "Hello, friends. Do you speak Avincian?"

Addressed in a way they clearly hadn't expected to be, the pair turned on the spot to confront the interloper. She was just beyond their garden gates.

“Lo.” (no)

“Little bit."

They glanced at each other for a fraction of a second. “Practice we. Not good is me.”

The male figure raised a hand and Ayla could feel the other energies that had been closing in her stop their forward motion. A couple retreated. “Torragon are you, yes?"

“Out late are you.”

“Yes. Very late. Almost hurt you did our secures." The man shook his head.

“Lost might be you?” the woman asked, taking a tentative couple of steps toward Ayla. “Like the other girl?”

Ayla's ears perked up as they seemed to recognize her from Torragon. “Hola soy Ayla ¿Hablas Toragonés?”

Amidst their confused looks, their response appeared to answer her question as they mentioned another girl. "Another girl from Torragon... was her name Marci?" Ayla asked them, simultaneously answering their question. "We got lost in the sandstorm and then attacked by bandits. And now we find ourselves in this paradise here." She gestured towards the gardens and water. Ayla also noticed the presence of Sirrahi and strange winged creatures, questioning their role in the grand scheme of things.

She nodded towards the woman and said, "We're terribly lost. We took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in this place. Do you know which direction Marci went? We haven't seen anyone else in a long time."

"Marci? Know don't we." The man shook his head. "But this garden, you shouldn't -"

"It is lovely, isn't it?" squealed his wife. "Vozas with all in love so much people..." She paused, trailing off. "No, right isn't that." She took a breath before continuing and her husband cut her off. "Private property also is it."

"Talo, being stop so mean." She shook her head. "The Vozas use so many people now, but not good is the quality. Try to cook on my own am I and grow in... ingreddiants my own I do." She straightened a little bit, perhaps proud of herself, and shot a look her husband's way. "Your friend, as for, see her we did, but run she did." She shook her head sadly.

"Only a minute ago," Talo followed up. "Maybe find her help us can you?"

Ayla continued to experience an irritation whenever Marci's name was mentioned, as if there was a flick or pinch by her ear. She initially thought it was caused by a fly, but there was no buzzing sound. Even when she stroked her ear, she could still feel the sensation. Her mind began to connect the dots and she wondered if Marci was trying to send her a message.

As she looked at the two Cazenax in front of her, she could sense a difference between the two. Although she sympathized with Wesca's statement, she also saw an opportunity to win favor with her. "We have encountered a farmer who mentioned something similar and explained the concept of the Vozas,” she began to explain. "It seems that the Vozas lacks a certain sense of soul in what it produces. When you grow and cook something, it takes time and energy, and there is a certain sweetness that comes from the fruits of your own labour. There's something about the minor imperfections that enhance the overall experience. Being able to do something for the sheer enjoyment of it, sharing it with others, and seeing them savour the results you bring to the table. We imagine your friends must love visiting your home, and your husband looks very happy and well-fed!”

Wesca smiled and shrilled, appearing almost giddy, as she nudged her husband's side, eagerly looking at him as if to say, "See! She understands!" Talo, however, seemed to be focused on a different part of Ayla's statement. "A farmer met you?"

Ayla paused for a moment, nodding in confirmation. "While we were escaping the sandstorm, we encountered a Horse-girl named Classa. She led us to a farm owned by a sweet-water farmer named Jascuan. He was kind to us and introduced us to some concepts, including the Vozas," she explained, using a flick of her finger to signify turning pages. "We were actually about to leave and search for our friends when we were attacked by raiders. They summoned foul demons and even targeted my beautiful hair," she said, pulling out the remaining strands of the damaged section. Seeing their concerned expressions, she quickly waved it off. "Don't worry! We took care of the demons. The others who escaped the golem ran away."

The pair looked at Ayla, then each other, Talo coughed to clear his throat, “Many, were you?” Wisca continued to listen in.

"There were only three of us. Afterward, we split up in an attempt to find our friends. We got lost after a... well, let's just say there was a massive explosion out in the desert," Ayla explained, choosing not to disclose the cause of the explosion. She nodded a little sheepishly. "By any chance, do you happen to know Farmer Jascuan?"

Talo's eyes showed recognition, but then dismissed it. "There are no guild members by that name," he stated. Wesca chimed in, “Glad I am. Vozas zin muddy water. Farm coze … quaint.” “Jackrabbit’s gold” Talo shot her a look before she turned to Ayla and asked, "Are you a mercenary?"

Ayla simply nodded along, smiling warmly at Wesca. She approached the couple and joined them, transitioning from a stranger to a guest. "Oh, no. We are Nobility, just like yourselves," she said, gesturing to the surroundings. "Clearly, you earn and deserve such a privilege."

Talo sighed, “Guild master. A proud weaver of Vozas for many generations. Our work has brought prosperity and security to our people” Wesca shook her head, smiling at Ayla, understanding her mistake and the unintended compliment associated with it. “The future is uncertain with the King’s plans, they are.”

Ayla nodded as she shows an interest in their conversation. “We are naive to these matters, are you able to enlighten me on this topic?”

Talo shifted in his chair, settling into a more comfortable position. He observed the foreign human girl with a mix of amusement and a desire to impart his knowledge. Wesca ordered the stuzé to bring them some drinks, setting the stage for a more relaxed conversation. "The King's plans threaten to undermine the prosperous economic foundations of our society," Talo began. "You can see how life is good here. The Guilds have guided our people, providing us with food, clothing, and abundance. My wife enjoys cooking like we have much sand to count," he added with a hint of disapproval.

"Stazen aims to remove the certification requirements for Vozas," Talo continued, his voice tinged with concern. "This opens the door to more hostile weavers like the ones who attacked the farm, or worse, birds hitting glass, inexperienced weavers accidentally unleashing unknown terrors upon us." He shuddered, as if recalling a chilling experience.

Ayla followed the gist of the argument, understanding that the King wants to increase production so others could enjoy life like Wesca, while the Guilds want to maintain control to manage the volatility of demons, and the silver lining of their pockets. She instinctively reached to touch her damaged hair, recognizing the potential dangers.

As the drinks arrived and pleasantries were exchanged, the conversation continued. "Exactly. We must exercise caution and ensure that proper control and structure are maintained. Demons are tools that require wisdom and guidance to use. Mishandling them can lead to dire consequences. While no system is perfect, the guilds provide stability and control. It is the best we have."

Ayla nodded, sipping her glass of cool-sweetwater. She may not know much about the local system, but she understood the underlying principles. It reminded her of her life as a noble, where freedom came with the need to carefully consider her actions and maintain a certain image. Actions have consequences, and whilst she may envy a life of no consequences, and freedom experienced such as the market urchins, she is afforded a privilege that entails responsibility, a noblesse oblige. In this culture, the Vozas provides a powerful means to produce and enrich your family and that of others, but fraught with danger which requires a good deal of responsibility. "We understand your concerns for safety and the well-being of your people. You’re right that striking a balance between progress and stability is crucial. Structure and direction can prevent the worst outcomes, especially when dealing with volatile forces like demons."

Talo smiled and nodded in agreement. "Exactly! We must strive to find that balance. While the King's intentions may be noble, they are a vulture’s meal. They can lead us down a dangerous misguided path to great ruin. Responsibility, security, and control over the Vozas should be our guiding principles to abide by."

Ayla smiled, sensing an opportunity to learn more about the Vozas and engage them in company. "As a Guild Master with your wealth of experience, we admire your passion. She leaned in toward them, offering an eager smile. “If someone like myself wanted to learn about and weave the Vozas under the guidance of a knowledgeable master like yourself, would that be a possibility?"

Talo and Wesca exchanged glances, considering the request.

---

---

Marci was nearly pulling her hair out as Ayla seemed to be ignoring her request. "Down here, stu-pid," she said, tugging on her earlobe four times. Finally, Ayla responded with three slow tugs. Marci blushed and said aloud, "That means 'I love you'. Do we need to go through the pinch language again?" She shook her head, knowing Ayla. She probably meant that sappy friend stuff too. Ayla was always there with the hugs, a royal clinger at times. Fortunately, she often brought Macaroons, which more than made up for it. Ayla wasn't too bad; she was just... her, and she risked her life on multiple times, so there is that debt as well.

Marci began to communicate that she was locked up in the cellar, but currently investigating. She instructed Ayla to continue distracting the pair upstairs. She said she was investigating, but Marci wasn't beyond taking advantage of the situation for her own benefit either.

Marci began her exploration, using her tethered range to constantly sweep for security. It seemed the pair had underestimated her, as she was caught off guard by security and quickly taken down. Marci didn't dress like a princess like Ayla, so she was really underestimated in comparison, most likely. The first rule of the snoop club is knowing your exit. She moved towards what seemed to be a back entrance to the building, with a clear route of escape. As she looked around, she noticed a pile of rubbish, including one of Potes-Palix's sweetwater bottles. She made a mental note of that. Something else that puzzled her was the bags of salt near the plant watering canteens, which seemed out of place. "That isn't what plants crave," she thought as she noticed the stunted and unhealthy-looking plants.

As she rummaged through the bedrooms, she found the place to be more functional than expected. There were all kinds of tools and stylers scattered around, but there were fewer trinkets than she had anticipated, especially compared to the nobles of Constantia or even Ayla's room. She made her way to the letter cabinet and glanced through the letters with fancy seals. Surprisingly, they were written in barely intelligible Avincian, as if they were some kind of code. She quickly read through them. They contained trivial things like gardening and cooking, mostly correspondence between the Dowage, Queen Mother and the guild master's wife. It seemed they were on good terms and needed to meet more often. After skimming through them, she felt even dumber for doing so, but she pocketed a few bits and pieces as she moved to other rooms.

The Guild Master's office was another potential target, and again, the writing was in far more readable Avincian. She casually glanced through the letters as she searched, hoping to find something more important. They discussed how the heads of the guilds feared the end times, recalling it by removing the monopoly, freeing the slaves, and creating a world without the need for money. She smirked and tugged on Ayla's ear, saying, "Long live the King." She sat down on a comfortable chair and giggled at the expressed horror within the letter about how the freed slaves would put the heads of their oppressors on spikes and spend their days counting sand. There was definitely a web of intrigue and conspiracy, with an increasing fervour against the King. They portrayed him as a dangerous idealist, and they needed to convince him otherwise or else. She rolled her eyes at that comment. Guild masters, Nobles—they were all the same, too concerned with themselves.

Marci leaned back on the chair, but it fell backward, taking her with it. She stumbled and accidentally knocked against a wooden panel. She rubbed her head and looked behind her, noticing a safe. Now, this is where the real juicy stuff is. Using her senses, she could tell how dangerous the trapped safe was. It certainly held something valuable. She moved away from it and used her magnetic magic with the tethering. The safe's metallic surface began to tremble. The intricate mechanisms hidden within whirred and clicked, resisting her intrusion, but Marci persisted. A symphony of cracks and groans filled the room as the safe struggled against the force of her magic. With a combination of power and finesse, she deactivated the traps before they could engage. Finally, with a resounding click, the safe yielded, and the heavy door swung open.

Inside the safe, there were more letters, along with assorted money and precious items. She quickly glanced through the letters and noticed the name Sozo-Calupé-Cenzan, the head of the Sweetwater guild, being referenced regarding sums of money exchanged for a 'special operation.' Marci shook her head at what was clearly the guild planning an invasion of a farmstead. As she flipped through the pages, she saw a crude plan to occupy the sweetwater fields in the east and cut off access to fresh water in the south. There was another letter from the Dowager, explaining to the Guild Master how to poison his wife's garden to encourage secret meetings without drawing attention. She came across what would be an interesting update: "Husband kill plants."

After taking what she considered important and cleaning up after herself, Marci headed toward the exit, constantly scanning for security. When a window of opportunity opened, she made a break for it and pinched Ayla, signalling her to meet in town.

---

---

Location: the church

Roslyn ate very little that morning. As much as she tried, she couldn't stomach much. Nazih's dead, sightless corpse stared at her through vivid memories. All she could do was stand there. While the other students prepared his body, flashbacks of her mother's funeral surfaced. The pain from five years ago came rushing back. Her eyes closed. The lump in her throat suffocated any words she might say, leaving her to sink into the familiar numbness. It spread across her veins and weighed her in place. It was like an old friend from those times had returned to help her endure it.

Did this pain ever go away?

She knew the answer as it brushed her core now. Why did it have to be her to find him? Her thoughts chided fate and the gods with childish bitterness. Why? Her thoughts never reached the air as she stood in silence.

The memory scattered to the wind when Yuliya's words caught her attention. It took a moment for Roslyn to identify her location: the rear pews of Dami the Shrewd. While she had followed the others easily, she hadn't been paying much attention until now. It explained her brief disorientation as it faded. She didn't think the plan was going to happen the exact way they wanted, but she couldn't offer a better plan. She did feel the hairs on her neck rise when she saw how heavily armed some of them were. Needless to say, their trip toward the town's market was... uneventful until the gates. Then they had to relinquish any weapons to the guards.

Based on Yuliya's and Yvain's story, they had caused a bit of trouble with the locals. Another rotten feeling churned in her stomach at the difficulty added to their task.

Deep down, she hoped to find Marz then return to the academy safe and sound. She had finished her task already, leaving her useless now. As they moved past the guards, Roslyn's breath stilled in her throat. Her eyes kept tabs on the men's behavior until all of them had entered. Her eyes widened at the sight laid out before her. Shops clustered against the tower's wall, filled with various goods and trinkets. Some shopkeepers shouted to passing customers as they stood in the corner.

Even though she grew up in a decent town, she didn't know what to make of this set up. Before she could speak to anyone, the students scattered. Roslyn sighed as she hoped they didn't lose track of their primary goal.

---

Location: Blowback, second floor

Once she completed her shopping, Roslyn stashed her stuff safely with Sven. She promised him a bottle of beer next time her father sent her some. The girl immediately vanished in search of the local gossip hub. After some effort, one place's name kept surfacing: The Blowback.

It was a local club where the townsfolk hung out and relaxed. Recalling her grandfather's warning, she sought out someone to go with her. In her head, she ticked past the available candidates among her group. Yuliya and Yvain were out due to their prior hostilities. Sven kept her stuff safe. Khaliun and Esmii were nowhere to be seen. Feeling her options dwindle, Roslyn spotted Penny coming out of one of the shops.

It didn't take much to convince her to come along. Quickly, both girls darted off to the bar and fell into the shrinking line leading to the door. Each paid their entrance fee as they disappeared into the club.

Beyond the door, a wall of tobacco, bakeleaf, and shisha hit Roslyn's nostrils. A dizziness stirred in the back of her head. Shaking past it, she kept moving and followed Penny's wake to the bar. The haze drifted about the dancing bodies on the floor. Their movements filled with a drunken care-free energy. Roslyn's envy stirred, but she pushed herself to focus on finding Marz.

The girls arrived at the barkeep.

A young man stood behind the counter. He poured out the golden liquid into a glass. Once it neared the rim, he slid it down the table's length and into a waiting customer's hands. His attention turned to Penny. Her request for a booth rose above the clash of music and conversation.

Nodding, he took the money before guiding them to the first free booth. Relieved to rest her feet, Roslyn lowered down into the seat. All the walking had started to take its toll as she discreetly rubbed her calf through her skirt. Despite how much she wanted to end this mission, collecting information required time.

Time they didn't have if Marz was still alive.

Penny suggested speeding it up by purchasing drinks to gain attention. They split the cost. A short time later, men began to break off from their seats and approach them.

Before Roslyn could dismiss them, Penny invited them to stay and they accepted the offer. Forced to bite her tongue, Roslyn endured in silence and defeat. She put on a smile that didn't reflect in her eyes. The subtle flirting went over her head, but Penny caught their compliments. Conversation turned to her boyfriend, Ashon, across the sea. Her words made it clear she wasn't interested in anyone else. Left disappointed, the men departed and returned to the bar. Relieved to not have to suffer through the men's hungry stares, Roslyn’s mind debated on entering the dance floor and seeking out information there. She leaned her chin on her hand.

Mistaking her look for boredom, a burly older Vossoriyan meandered over. He gave a polite bow then spoke in semi-decent Avincian. Roslyn could tell he still struggled with it as he introduced himself.

"Hello, name is Dmitry." A thick tone entered his words.

Roslyn spotted the hint of gold beneath his shirt collar when his form slid into the empty seat. If his clothes didn't betray he was someone important, the decoration did. Taking a chance, she slipped into casual chatter. She began to touch on alcohol, noticing his smile brighten and his own questions turned upon her.

"Let us see how much you can drink."

"Excuse me?" Roslyn asked, her right eyebrow raised.

"I watch you. You drink about half that bottle, but it is weak stuff. Can you handle good vodka?" He boasted, summoning the barkeeper to the booth to order something.

"I'll admit, it's not Firetail whiskey... but I've had worse.

The man scoffed. Moments later, the barkeep came back with a large order of clear liquor and two shot glasses. Gripping the bottle by the neck, he popped off the top. He smoothly filled each shot. One shoved at her while he gripped the other.

"Ready?"

Roslyn held up the glass and studied the 'water' within it. It sloshed with a faint heat from the top. I hope I don't regret this, she thought.

"Yeah, on three. One...two... three."

After the last word, both of them tossed back the vodka. Roslyn didn't expect the burn that followed. Her eyes widened and the burning sensation rose in the back of her throat. When the liquid disappeared, forced down by her swallow, the girl erupted into a small coughing fit. Her ears caught Dmitry's deep belly laughs at her surprise.

"I warned you, da?" His sentence slipped into Vossoyian at the last word.

Once the choking had faded, Roslyn nodded. "I didn't expect the burn immediately."

"That is sign of good vodka. Burns on the way down before you know it."

Seeing her collect herself, Dmitry smirked.

"Give up?"

Roslyn shook her head.

"Let's keep going. About seven more rounds? We'll see who can last the longest." It was a bold suggestion, but she had grown up on strong stuff and knew her limits. She could do this.

"Yes. Ready? One...two...three!"



The rounds flew by in rapid succession, each better than the last. Roslyn banged down the shot glass when she finished the last one. She mumbled something in her native tongue. Her mind buzzed with the intoxication taking grip in her head and threatening to bring her down. It didn't help that her stomach lacked food to buffer it. Her dull eyes took in Dmitry's condition. The man's form wobbled, but held firmly in the seat.

"Another round?" Roslyn held back a hiccup as she waited.

The man shook his head, his hand raised in surrender. "No, no more. Should know better. You mercenaries are big drinkers."

A soft gas bubble escaped his lips causing him to tap his fist against his chest. He didn't notice Roslyn flash him a confused look at his assumption.

"You know, since you’re in this business, I share information. The blacksmith needs someone for a job. Name is Vladimir. You go to him."

Edging past the part of complicated thinking, Roslyn didn't correct him.

"I am new to town. Where do I find him?

He took a moment to process before replying.

"Near the collapse. You..." He blinked and settled deeper into the chair.

"You hurry. You are not alone in town. A pair of masked men showed up before you. They might be Volti, not sure."

"Can you tell me more about this job? Any details?"

Dmitry narrowed his eyes upon her. His lips thinned out into a line, the debate strong in his expression. Moments ticked by before his eye shifted to the bar. Roslyn followed his gaze. Penny stood by the bar now and was seemingly harassed by two men. She started to rise only to have Dmitry warn her against it.

"Stay in seat."

Surprised by Dmitry's statement, she fell back into her seat. She noticed the men turn and look back at him. A silent understanding passed before Dmitry spoke in Vossoriyan, his tone clearly displeased. Swiftly they moved to the exit like dogs with their tails tucked between their legs. The sounds of his form awkwardly rising caught her attention.
Her eyes snapped to him.

"W-wait." Her words stumbled out as Penny returned to their booth.

Dmitry studied her, pausing in his movement.

In a sloppy attempt, Roslyn tried to bribe him. She slipped out a sizable amount of coin within his line of sight and continued.

"Are you sure... you don't know more?"

The man shook his head, clearly uneasy. Spotting her struggle, Penny wandered into his path, ‘accidentally’ bumping into him. “Well that’s disappointing,” she pouted, stumbling backwards “My friend was really hoping for more.”

She reached into her coinpurse and rolled a few ten-ouble coins between her fingers. Outside, she could see Sven approaching, with Yvain and a couple of others. Her eyes pointedly wandered their way.

“So were our other friends. We’re all going to be working in this town for a little while.” It was perfect timing, really, and she was quick to leverage it. Penny smiled sweetly, hand brushing his chest and fingers momentarily hooking the golden chain.

“And we’d love to get off on the right foot. You sure you don’t know anything else?” Roslyn’s mind barely registered the threat through the fog in her brain as Dmitry’s large frame tensed. He licked his lips in response.

"I think... something about missing Hegelans. Now, please… excuse me."

Penny slipped some cash into his shirt pocket and stepped out of the way. Roslyn watched him until he disappeared behind the other two. Needing to keep her emotions steady as her remaining peers approached, she poured herself one last shot and let the sensation dull her stress.

The morning came once more, the ringing of the bell woke every once more. They were all escorted to the eating hall and were given the same tasteless food they have been given everyday. Yet today seemed much different, a presence of quiet excitement filled the air. Marz looked around and saw many ate with such speed it seemed they may nearly drown in the soup. Yet after the quick meal many stood and left of their own accord, not one monk seeming to stop them. Marz was confused for a moment before he felt a hand slap his shoulder and say, "Come on, this is a rare time"

Marz was introduced to one of the few times that they have a respite while most of the Monk were away. Many of which seemed to dealing with religious duties, which most assumed was them trying to keep up their front. Which gave Choran time to show Marz the device and explain what it was, "This is it, the device we have been working on". Choran fished the item from a crack in the wall someone had made to transport the device. Choran took it and then passed the item over to Marz to allow him to inspect it, "This is an Anti-magic disruptor".

Marz looked to Choran confused, "Okay, what does it do?"

Choran chuckled to himself as he spoke some more, taking Marz to a more hidden location away from the crack they retrieved it from, "Its a device to counter the devices taking our use of magic away".

Marz began to nod, "Okay, so it is a device to counter act the sound being produced by these devices?"

Choran looked to Marz and seemed impressed, "That's correct, how could you tell?"

Marz continued, "Based upon how the device it made it seems to be made to have this cylinder spin in some form of fashion, something akin to oscillating to. With the grooves, possibly grinding against something with purpose".

Choran looked impressed as he said, "That's correct, we did run into a problem, it seems the-".

Marz then instantly cut Choran off, "You're usin' copper".

Choran looked to Marz confused, "What?".

Marz repeated himself, "You're usin' copper".

Marz let a moment stand before sighing to himself and continuing what he was saying, realizing Choran isn't getting what he is saying, "The copper you are using is unable to handle the stress you are putting upon it. The metal you need to transfer the energy across the cylinder needs to be able to do so efficiently, but also needs to be strong enough to handle the oscillation and keep contact without being warped by heat or friction. Copper is unable to do all these things by itself without being malformed. You should encase a thin wire of tungsten in copper to increase the copper's ability to handle the oscillation and keep contact while the tungsten absorbs the heat. It will cut a groove into the device eventually, however, if done properly it should work for long enough".

Choran and the many Hegelans who began to gather to listen to Marz as he continued to explain small things he began to see within the device. Small things, yet things that most wouldn't notice when their focus were so set upon the goal. For Marz, he still had the ability to dedicate himself to his craft to see the faults. Unlike those who were trapped in this prison for so long, all they could look for is the next step to freedom.

Once the bell rang again, it signaled for the next meal time, lunch. Here Marz across from Venna and asked something he was curious about, "Aye Venna, you go around wit tha cart, is there other work areas?".

Venna looked up and nodded to Marz with a smile, "Oh ya, there is a whole bunch of 'em. But they are mostly made up into clusters based upon what they do. The one you are in is mostly dedicated to fine work, the other cluster is pretty strange".

Marz sat down and looked to Venna wishing for her to continue, "How so?"

Venna continued, now swaying her spoon around as if recalling what she's seen, "Oh, you know. They focus upon more laborious craft. Seems to be an older workshop actually, it would makes sense because of the work they do there".

Marz continued to listen intently as he began to watch multiple begin to take notice.

"They seem to be working on Monarch crafts. You know-".

Marz cut in with, "-void hearts"

Venna nods as she continued, "Ya, it's strange though, the monks call 'em chaos marbles or somethin the like. They have a whole bunch of em though, but it seems the monks 'ave been quite pissy since production slowed-". Venna stopped herself as she noticed multiple others begin to make their way over to sit next to Marz. Many of them looked to Venna quite nastily, as she left, leaving Marz in a strange spot, yet one he could not rectify now, he had just earned their trust. Marz let out a sigh as he began to eat the tasteless soup, strangely it had flavor, the soup was sour.

Marz and the other crafters who are part of the plan fall into a routine. They began to steal little bits of useful materials as they work. Important metals, makeshift tools, and even some makeshift parts made in the shop that they eventually sneak off through whatever means they can. Marz had learned why the Hegelans had such rough-looking hair, often time they were handled in rough ways to move and shift the hair, oftentimes with tough gloves that have metal fixing that catches on the hair. Yet even with this, Marz and the others found ways of taking things out, even with searches. Marz often uses alternative compartments to hide them away.

With these many materials the group was able to pool together, they used any recesses, bathroom breaks, and even sleep time to work feverishly on the device. With new found vigor and resolve, they made great progress on their work. As the device truly neared completion, talks continued into even dinner, whispered talks near the center of the table as many around the center group spoke louder, using their voices as a shield against the ears of the prying. Those within the center, with Marz being the forefront of it all, working on the device even further. With all this work, few were truly allowed near, leaving Venna, the one Marz had first met within this prison, outcasted, as she knew she was not welcomed by the others.

During this night, Marz was the one to take the fewest breaks, using his work to the best of his ability to try and draw the least suspicion. All in the sake for him to be able to retrieve a part from the privy that had come loose from someone's mistake. Many of the monks grew to trust Marz because of his forward nature and hard work, leaving them little room to doubt his nature. Which allowed him leeway when it came to the use of the restroom. When Marz made it to the toilet, he began to enter the men's toilet when he picked up the sounds of crying from the women's privy a few yards away. Marz quickly fished out the part that came loose and made his way to the woman's privy as he was finally able to make the voice out, recognizing them to be Venna's.

Marz sighed as he lightly knocked on the door, a scramble happened within as it seemed the occupant had been startled. After a moment the door opened with Venna appearing wiping tears from her face, and said once she noticed Marz, "Oh, hey, sorry about that. You shouldn't have seen that"

Marz looked to Venna with something that doesn't often show on his face, concern, "What's wrong Venna?"

Tears began to pour from Venna's face again as she began to pour all of her woes. The pain she felt being so outcasted from everyone. These months alone, outcasted, all until someone finally came to find her. Yet all that happened was that he was also captured. Turned into a worker in this forsaken prison and had slowly been withering away from the toil and little rest. "My own father! All I can do is watch! Everyone has a plan, everyone has an objective and all I can do is sit here!"

Venna grabbed onto Marz and looked up to him, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Please! Marz! Anything! I want to help! I can't take this! I know you have a plan!"

Marz felt his heart get caught in his throat, he felt Venna's true anguish, all the emotions, everything. Her very voice seemed to resonate something, as he had a vision. Something that he had when he dedicated himself to this path as a smith, a purpose, a reason, a will, the soul of a person. He saw just a glimpse of Venna's will, and he knew he had to do something.

Marz the broke his silence, "We are making a device to stop the magic dampening". Venna looked to Marz confused as if he didn't hear him.

Marz continued, "We are making a device to allow us to regain our magic. With it, we are going to try and make a break, taking out the monks and escaping".

Venna's eyes began to glow once more, bright as a star as she seemed to have finally gotten something. She was finally trusted as Marz took hold of Venna's shoulders, "Now that you know, we need your help, You are the only one who can move between the 2 areas".

Venna began to nod her head as her mouth opened, "I…I can. I can help, I can spread the news quietly. Freedom will come with magic. Maybe I could even make it where when things happen the others will already be ready to fight. Using the weapons they'd make, we can fight them".

Marz nods as he says, "Good, we're almost done, so let's head back to work. We have a lot to get done". Holding his hand out for Venna to high-five him, as they begin to head their separate ways.

Marz and many of the others are hard at work, working like mad to complete their work for the day while also completing work for the anti-magic dampening device. Hours of work to near the finishing stages of the device, only leaving fit and finish and then testing to do. With by the time they turn in for the night, they were near the point they could think of the actual escape. Today was some of the most fervent days they had, which left Marz quite exhausted, yet also excited.

Even into the night, Marz could not stop thinking of the plan and the device, this sleepless time was kept in tempo by Mazan's snoring. However, once more, Marz began to hear the scratching he heard the night earlier. This time Marz was able to discern its origin coming from the lower bunk where Khalud was. Marz feeling something wrong, used his preparedness to jump up and nearly tackle the smaller chubbier man. Leading to Khalud to nearly fumbling a scroll with writing materials. Marz then quietly barks, "What is that?"

"None of your business, now fuck off".

Marz began to nearly stand to his full height as Khalud seems to squeal out, "They're messages to my family back home! I won't share anything with you, it's-", Khalud seems to become slightly blushed before continuing, "It's for my husband back home".

Marz looked to Khalud slightly aghast as he said, "Keep it to yourself, I don't wanna read it". With Marz returning to his bed, he went to lay down again and began to fall asleep, giving him but a glimpse of movement in the doorway before his eyes fully closed. With the scratching now unable to be heard anymore.

---

---

---

---

I'd been here quite a while at this point. Mandelein had gone from a quiet little village in the Kerreman countryside into a living apocalypse, brought about by vile creatures of the night and the movement of the 5 moons, is what we'd discovered. Once again, I'd been cooped up in the church for a final stand, this time at least accompanied by the idiot Jamboi, yet I'd found his prowess in combat useful. He was far more.. primitive than I was, perhaps due to his Constantian heritage and I wondered several times throughout the various encountes with the beasts whether he feared death at all. Or rather, it was as if he knew he wouldn't die in such a place. I did not have the same confidence.

I was not the valiant knight in shining armour that these people needed. And I know this to be true now through the words of my teacher. You can fake confidence, emotion, sincerity. But there is not a man alive who can fake being brave. And I was not brave. I stood behind my comrades, and let them take the blows for me, boosting them up for them to conduct their slaughter. And the killing, was something I did not have the stomach for. I don't think I'll ever have the stomach for it. It raised questions for me - knowing what was to come, would I be ready to stand by my brothers and sisters? Would I ever be useful for the task at hand? Oceans more blood was yet to spill, and I was still unprepared to grasp the reigns as my comrades had.

Leonhardt and the others proved a vicious foe, but through the use of dark magic, demons spilled from the great void beyond came to our aid and met them blow for blow, until our time to escape had come, of course. Ashon once again had dealt a final blow to the beast, and shortly after, an opportunity to leave arose. I could have let my comrades go first. I did not. Away from the prying eyes of that blood-crazed nun, I made my getaway long before the others who needed it more, and I felt no guilt, only fear for my own safety. Fear for retribution if they had learned of my cowardice. And fear of what was to come at our final destination, Castle Mandelein. More than once, I found myself changing the adrenaline surging through my system into relaxants, just to keep my heart from leaping through my chest. What would my great ancestors think of their descendants in this moment? I was so strong, yet so afraid whereas weaker men were willing to leap into danger for the sake of righteousness.

Damy save us, because Vyshta is needed elsewhere.

---

In Collaberation of: Tku Pictor @dragonpiece, Fiske Flachstrauch @jasbraq, Evander Fino Synesti @RezonanceV, and @Force and Fury

---

Cazelui had spent the past hour and a half playing with dyes she’d found and she was far too much of a nervous wreck to go back to the bunkhouse and sleep. She’d lost Pan and the human girl. She’d followed the other three humans here. They’d gotten into the paténasca (safehouse) and taken the key with them. The Sahuitix (chain breakers) would be furious. They were meeting tonight. She could run away and play innocent, but she’d been seen in the area, they already didn’t like her, and word would travel. The twenty-two-year-old groaned.

Tentatively, sweeping first with her unpracticed energy sense, she opened the shed door just a crack and peered out into the quiet, nighttime streets. The usual creatures skittered about, and the usual people too. She still knew most of the patterns, even though she hadn’t been on nights for almost two years. It was right about then that the lock on the hidden door behind her jiggled. Cazelui nearly jumped out of her skin, but she put her dyes away as it opened and one of the humans - the tall blonde one - popped his head out.

“Finally!” she exclaimed. “I’m rescued!” She blinked, looking him up and down for a moment as he emerged more fully. “I… oh. Um, is everyone okay? Did you catch Potés-Palix? Did you learn anything?” The questions came tumbling out and she blushed. Evander This one’s name was ‘Evander’, she remembered.

Then, however, just as she was checking if there were more squeezing through behind him, just as she noticed a second, Desmond, there came quiet sounds of movement outside - stuzé movement. “They are coming,” she warned, “The Sahuitix - um… chain breakers. This is their space we are in and they are about to have a meeting.” The stuzé knitted and unknitted her fingers anxiously as she glanced at the small door. “I am not sure how welcoming they will be. You are not cazenax, but you are not stuzé either, and Potés-Palix…” She trailed off, worried.

It was too late. The door opened and a pair of stuzéts appeared. Both were women: one of perhaps around thirty and the other perhaps a shade older. They paused in the doorway at the sight of Cazelui, and a moment of recognition flashed between the daydreamer and one of them. The door was allowed to close and it was crowded inside the shed, suddenly. The new arrivals regarded the pair of humans. “Azaba?” (Sister?) remarked one incredulously, eyes searching the two unfamiliar faces as she spoke, “Who are these and what are they - and you - doing here?”

Once Desmond made his way through the entrance of the tunnel, he saw a familiar face, Cazelui. Desmond gave her a nod of the head as he began to speak, "Ah, we found some-".

He was then cut off by Cazelui's warning. The apparent chain breakers seemed to be coming to meet, possibly to speak of some plan. Desmond was curious of who these Chain Breaker's were so he stayed to allow himself to be known.

It took no more than a few moments for 2 more snake people to make their way into the shed. Making this once cozy shed, cramp. Desmond let the ones who entered have the first word, with once they made their worried remarks known, Desmond spoke, "Ah, we are outsiders, My name is Desmond and this is my compatriot Evander". Desmond made a light gesture to himself and then to Evander.

"We were looking for an individual who may have been connected with a crime that we are being seen as suspects for". Desmond spoke and began to feel his senses tingling of energies behind them, multiple large creatures seemed to be moving, they might also be other Sirrahi.

Desmond continued to speak as if he was not paying attention to the things happening behind him, "Cazelui was someone we met who had been a big help since the moment we arrived here", Desmond had been weighing his options as he spoke. Cazelui seemed to know of the Sirrahi from the outside, even if they were being referred to by a different name. Then Chain Breakers, Liberators, hot topic words probably for slavery of some form.

The Snake people here might be a second class citizen. Seeing as the Queen seemed to have some kind of power to afflict Cazelui to heed her command. Desmond came to the conclusion that this might be the time to play a certain card to see if this was the reason why they were sent here, " Especially since we were sent to this city on the behest of the Silent Ranger with no information".

“Wanted for a crime!?” exclaimed one of the women, and perhaps that was not the best thing to lead off with. “What crime?” prodded the other, leaning in concernedly, taking a moment to adjust her wig. “Cazelui, explain how you know these men!”

“Suilazaba, (sister-in-law)” replied the younger sirrahi, “I promise they are innocent. They're only poor, lost humans, not even from Xochi.” She shook her head. “Someone tried to poison the king.”

The other two women gasped, but Cazelui held up her hand to forestall any speech. “It looked to be Potés-Palix, but I think he was framed.”

“She" the older of the two recent arrivals corrected. The younger nodded, fake hair shifting on her head. “Your brother pointed it out the other day. It's her voice and, umm... her chest.”

Cazelui's eyes darted at the other two and then, awkwardly, at Desmond. “Silent Ranger?” she asked quizzically, tilting her head to the side. Both of the other two shook their heads, confounded. “Anyhow," said the older of the pair, “I'm Stela-Zomé."

“I'm...” the younger one trailed off and sighed. “Poto-Mits, and it's quite frankly an insulting name. Please call me -”

“Uixel-Nogen!” Cazelui giggled and, for the first time, Desmond got a sense of just how young she was: perhaps no older than Rikard or Fiske. Poto-Mits Uixel-Nogen (Hairy Head) glared daggers at her for a moment. “But yes, this is a meeting of the Chainbreakers," Stela confirmed.

“Liberators,” corrected Uixel.

“Sirui-Hé!” said Cazelui, “Or whatever they decide to call themselves this week.” She rolled her eyes grandly.

“Caz..." began Stela in a chiding tone.

“Zé, Malma?” (yes, mother) the teenager replied saucily.

“I know they're a little bit..."

“Cringe?”

The other two shot her disapproving looks. “Earnest," Stela concluded, “And maybe a bit extreme, but is it so bad to want our people to be free?"

“Do you really enjoy your work, suunei?” asked Uixel, using a yasoi word of sisterhood. “Honestly?”

Cazelui puffed out her cheeks before releasing the air. She shrugged. “Sure Id' like it. It'd be nice, but overthrowing a whole-ass government for it?” She arched an eyebrow. “Murder and mayhem?” She glanced Desmond's way and furrowed her brow pensively. “Actually, that makes me wonder, what's your position on it?” She shot a look at the others. “None of us have ever actually planned a revolution before.”

“Oh, and he's a professional or something?” It was Uixel's turn to roll her eyes before all three pairs turned to Desmond.

Desmond listened as he allowed the 3 women to speak. Nodding and making sure that they see he is paying attention, allowing them to speak as he collected information and began to understand more of what is happening.

Each of them seemed very charismatic in their own rights with strong personalities. This was very noticable in nature, each of them seem very off in different directions to each other as none of them seemed to reiterate the words of the other.

What felt annoying was that when he spoke about the Silent Ranger, they looked to him strangely. For Desmond it felt as if he said a random word none of them even understood in the middle of his sentence.

Desmond let out a sigh before he responded to the women, "Well it is good to meet you both". Desmond slowly picked at each of the ages and relations among each of them.

Desmond shook his head as he continued to listen, he was beginning to build out what might be happening here, these 3 women are related. Cazelui and Uixel-Nogen seemed to poke at each other, with Caelui being the greater offender. Stela seemed to be their mother, which told Desmond that the meeting of these revolutionaries must be a very tight nit group, that could be either very beneficial, or a disaster waiting to happen.

Desmond sighed once more as things seemed to get more complicated, the 3 girls seemed to begin to talk about the very subject of why would they become these Chainbreakers and the grandiose scale of it all.

What made Desmond laugh though was when not only did Cazelui question his stance on this situation and his skills, but was then questioned by Uixel about his very qualifications within the very subject he has became quite familiar with.
Desmond laughed as he raised his hand and took hold of his hat for a moment, he lifts it off of his head and placed it over his heart, allowing it's illusion to break away for just a moment. Once the bow was finished he placed his hat back upon his head and reapplied the illusion to cover himself once more in gorgeous garbs and spoke, "I am a Liberator myself. A slave once and now a man who has dedicated himself to the breakage of bondages. I am, in fact, the closest to what you could call a professional".

Desmond smiled as he continued, "If you don't believe me, ask my friend". Desmond waves his hand across to gather all of their attention towards the door, where he sensed a familiar energy.



Oh shit-

Tku went with his belief that bold is better. Shoulders back, head level, makeup on point he made his entrance. The shed door whithered only to give blossom to, what Tku hoped were seen as beautiful, melon flowers and vines accenting his arrival. He smelled of sweet flowers and petals fluttered in on his arrival to fill the room. Calm but fierce violet eyes and a small smirk he usually has on when meeting new people.

"Well hello there," Tku tried to determine make or female, "ladies. It is I, Tku." he did a bow with one arm crossed over his chest as he remade the door and got rid of the vines. "You called Desmond?" Tku sent a glance his way.

Too much? Tku wondered.

The 3 women looked at Desmond and at the new arrival and there was a rapid exchange in their native tongue. It was Stela who nodded. “It looks like you were headed out," she began, “To where, I'm not sure, but..." Her eyes took in the others for a moment. “Might you - and your friend here - consider coming in instead?"

Cazelui was already going over to make introductions with Tku. Uixel was caught in between as she introduced herself. Meanwhile, in the rooms beyond, there seemed to be a bit of a commotion starting. They could hear a familiar - or not, for some of them - female voice shouting, and others rising, perhaps in response.

Desmond nodded to Tku, "I did. An entrance of colorful fashion, like always".

Once the 3 women began to speak in rapid exchanges, he knew that they had bought it. Simple words may not always work, but this should be enough to hear them out. With the oldest of them then asking them in, Desmond gave a slight nod of the head as he answered, "Of course, we'd love to".

It was then Desmond could hear the commotion behind him grow. Fiske must be letting things run its course, "Oh, that's not good". Desmond turned to the others as he called to them before he began his way back into the tunnel, "We should hurry in, it seems that something is going on within and it may be including our framed Cazenax friend who hid herself away here".

Despite his rather flashy entrance and overall demeanor, Tku greeted them all rather softly. He had made his fabulous entrance and he somewhat regretted it. Only minorly though. "I wouldn't mind coming inside but I have some other people with me. They look for a family member who hasn't come home." Tku addressed them but in particular Desmond.

"May they come as well? They must be awfully nervous if I were to enter and say nothing."

Desmond turned to look to Tku before he was to enter the tunnel, "Oh the girls are here too, good. They'll be helpful".

Tku had hoped he would use less specific terms but it wasn't his fault. "Ah, not them though they are well. One is questioning some men, the other is investigating the town. These 2 are a worried father for their crippled daughter and his friend." Tku attempted to clear the miscommunication for his and more importantly the snake people, less they get suspicious and potentially violent at the change.

Desmond looks to Tku quizzically as he thought for a moment, he then asked, "Are they looking for someone named Potés-Palix or Samaxi?"

"Yes!" Tku responded, "Are the okay?"

"Not if we keep talking here". Desmond answered back as he turned one final time and made his way into tunnel. While he is entering he jokingly tells Tku, "Remember to fix the door".

"Ah Yes," Tku puts his head back and calls them over with the most universal get over here he could give. Once they scurried in, he fixed the door like nothing ever happened to it. Ooh, a new wood I can use.

Jascuan and Naxos showed up moments later. The imp's eyes darted about warily for a moment before he hopped up on a crate and held his hand out to Uixel. When she took it, he kissed hers. “Milady.”

Her eyes widened, but all she did was thank them. He greeted the other two similarly, though Cazelui did not particularly want his slimy lips on her hand.

The old man, for his part, carried himself with an understated sort of dignity. He swept in, cane flicking behind his back for a moment, and nodded at the three sirrahi as if he could see them though, of course, he could not. Immediately, all three bowed in respect. "Valcuo-Azcaniz," they said as one. He bowed in return. “Ladies. You all blaze like desert roses today.” They led him inside and now everyone was together.

“I sense my dear Nezana-Samaxi,” Jascuan said quietly, his voice deep and old and rumbling. He walked slowly towards one of the chairs at the table and pulled it out. It made a loud, keening scrape on the floor. “I ask that you please not harm her, for she is young and foolish.”

The big sirrahi who'd been holding her aloft opened his mouth to retort, but Egosto-Alguo, who all the humans now noticed looked the spitting image of a younger Silent Ranger, cut him off. “I apologize for Caluts-Gastiz's rudeness, Valcuo-Azcaniz.”

Jascuan paused for a moment and then nodded, as if that would do. He seated himself then, and that was cue for the others to do the same. “Oh, I have no desire to command you. That is very much a barbaric thing," the old man allowed. “But, in matters that concern my... offspring, you might allow me an interest."

Egosto-Alguo, apparently the leader, nodded. “As you have every right, of course."

Jascuan nodded in return. People took their seats at the table. The majority were sirrahi and they coiled around their chairs, for the most part. Naxos found some crates in a corner and crouched there. “You, by the way." the elder gestured in Fiske's direction - his true direction. “Why don't you come out of hiding and join us?"

“Why have you come here, honoured one?” inquired Stela quietly. Uixel's and Cazelui's eyes flicked her way.

Samaxi was clambering into a chair, finally at the same height as everyone else. “Largely to retrieve this one," he admitted, “But also..." He knitted his wizened old hands before him and he scanned the table as if he could nonetheless see right into everyone else present. “I have heard the attempt on the king's life has taken place." He cleared his throat.

Egosto nodded. “Yes, and it was thwarted."



Fiske shook, his most prominent skill was seen through by this man without much issue. "Was it that easy to uncover me?" The boy revealed himself with a look on his face that wasn't one that he usually wears. It was not one of annoyance, not a smug one, it was one of genuine sadness. Inadequate, useless. Defeated, he walked away from the wall and came closer to the one that discovered him.

“Your illusions were strong, young man," Jascuan whispered, leaning in, “But you need to remember to disperse your energy or there'll always be someone better who'll detect you." He smiled, still somewhat impressed that the youth had fooled an entire room of paranoid people until he'd walked in. “Took me a while to master too."

"Disperse my energy? Wouldn't that alert everyone that someone is hiding inside the room?" Fiske sat down, genuinely intrigued on what the older man had to say about his. "How did you manage to master something like that?" To keep his frustrations in check he grabbed his dice before they slipped from his hand.

“There is an art to it," he admitted, “and a science." He shook his head. “You choose a space that is not empty. There is plenty of ambient energy. When you disperse, nobody notices the slight increase." He sniffed. “If you're alone, you use chemical to alter their senses. Arcane doesn't suffice."

Even with Desmond entering first, it seemed the man Tku brought with him stole the show. Every Sirrahi here seemed to bow to the man, and show great respect, yet seemed to also not know his own daughter. Desmond thought, How? Maybe they find him to be some kind of silent benefactor, but things seem strange.

Once the older man sat down, Desmond did the same as he began to scan for Fiske, yet it seemed te older man had already found him and asked him to even come sit with them, as that was when the talking of the assassination began.

Desmond realized that one of 2 things happened, word spread fast, or that this was something that they already knew was coming. If the Liberators knew, based upon the reactions of the Stela and Uixel, they either are out of the loop of something like this, or they were acting like they knew nothing. If they aren't, then is seems the 2 are just unlucky to catch the information.

But that doesn't answer the question of who did it? These Liberators, or another faction? Desmond couldn't tell, so he decided to say the most simple things to prod for information, "Seems word travels fast, hu?"

Desmond began to use both magic and skills he picked up to change his body posture and composure to make himself seem curious and slightly surprised.

Tku had once again been surprised by the weight of the old man that he will admit, he wrote off as but another landowner. A kind one it seemed but still nothing of too much note. A lot was happening but the first thing Tku did was scan Maxi's body. He had no idea how common blood magic was but if their was a mark on her, Tku would find it. Along with that, he checked for any wounds are aliments she would have. In fact he might as well scan everyone here, now that Fiske was also exposed. Quite the sneaky child.

Now Tku had no idea that the king had an attempt on their life. No, he didn't even know there was a king. But there was one thing that didn't make sense to Tku. How could Jascuan know that the King had an attempt on his life. He was at his home. He shouldn't have had time to pick it up. I guess he could have picked it up from the walk over. Did he already know? Were those raiders no mere coincidence?

"very fast," Tku agreed with Desmond but gave Jascuan some side eye. I know you can tell Jascuan Tku thought. Tku finally put in some words for the actual table, "So, would you be so generous in enlightening this traveler on the situation and the stances here?" he asked Jascuan but kept it open for the table as a whole. "You know I only mean well Jascuan," Tku tried to pull on the trust he may have made.

How far these serpents veered from their own wisdom.

Evander contemplated on his encounter with Disska. She was a different kind than these sirrahi who submitted themselves beneath the boots of others. When Evander and Desmond had entered, Evander took the back seat.

Let the mercenary earn his keep.

Evander stepped to the side of the door. Leaned back against the hallowed wall, his right foot anchored in the earth. While his left food found repose against the stone behind him. His arms, with grace, crossed his chest. Silently observing, Evander witnessed the family play drone out. Sisters and their mother it appeared, a dynamic he could not relate too.

Silently observing, Evander witnessed the family play before him. Sisters and their mother, a dynamic he could not relate too. The trio went back and forth about their freedom. Those who gathered were by Calezui's account, Chainbreakers. The name was self-explanatory to their desire. Oddly, Desmond began laughing and then pronounced himself as "Liberator" too.

Maybe he was trying to gain their trust. Wait, what's this?

Evander sensed several additional people in the tunnels. Interesting. One in particular stopped moments before the door to adjust themselves before entering. Not in a threatening way, in a way that signaled, I care about how I am perceived. The door opened, a strange and familiar character appeared. The new arrival announced their name, Tku, and bowed.

Why is everyone bowing to strangers?

It appeared after Tku's odd entrance. Desmond recognized him. The two exchanging pleasantries before the sirrahi interjected their own introductions to this Tku. It didn't take long before the real party started, another presence joined them and he was greeted by the three sirrahi, "Valcuo-Azcaniz." Chirping praises to his peers with a plead of mercy on behalf of his sister, Samaxi, of whom Evander had met. Valcuo-Azcaniz appeared to be an honored guest. The behavior of the others immediately changed as if royalty walked into the room. It was a sight Evander knew too well. The social rules and positions were on display as a younger version of the Silent Ranger gripped the mouth of another by the name, Calutz-Gastiz, saving both from what apparently may be someone who garters a high status within their society.

Of course, as all things in Sipenta, status was not enough. This Valcuo-Azcaniz demonstrated his gift's awareness by plucking Fiske from the shade of his illusion. Fiske had no choice but to join the others and the sirrahi got down to business by asking why this Valcuo-Azcaniz was here.

Honored one?

Evander asked himself. Who was this Valcuo-Azcaniz to these liberators?

Then, others were speaking and the old man who they had called Valcuo-Azcaniz waved Fiske off for the time being.

"Shame," pronounced the man who'd been roughing up Samaxi a minute earlier. "Would've sown chaos if they'd succeeded."

Cazelui whirled in his direction. “Why's it always about killing with you people?" She shook her head in disgust. “What's he ever done but try to make our lives better?"

"He's one of them," the large sirrahi snarled. "They're never on our side."

Jascuan - or Valcuo, as some seemed to call him - merely watched, but Samaxi was less subdued. “Some are, ya know," she muttered, “Though you're doing your best to change that." Then, before a retort could come in, the humans began to speak, and it was Egosto-Alguo who addressed Desmond. "We're everywhere, friend," he replied. There was a bit of an edge to his voice: not hostile but wary of an exotic newcomer with unknown motives. "We pour these people's tea, fix their roofs, look after their children, and sweep their streets." He smirked. "If it happens, we know about it. Posthaste."

Jascuan raised a hand, and his soft, gravelly voice rose so that the others could hear it. “It is little surprise to me that the Bantarsca cabal have tried. His policies are not only reckless, well-intended as they may be, they break the monopoly of the elites on the professions."

“They accuse him of yet more extreme ambitions," added Stela-Zomé.

"This world they build," said Egosto solemnly, "It ends in tears, whether the king's reforms go through or not."

"It isn't their world, though," countered Stela, shaking her head. "It is ours now, too, whether we wish to acknowledge that or not." She spread her arms in an all-encompassing gesture. "We have a stake in it. Many of us were born here. -"

"Born into slavery," Egosto added, eyes narrowing.

"But born here nonetheless: felt its sun, eaten its food, lived among its people. My children know no other world."

"And they will know nothing but servitude as they grow up." snarled Caluts. "Is that the future you want to build with those weak-tailed words of yours? This kind of thing -"

"If I was content with the way things were, Caluts, I would not be here. None of us would. Don't be disingenuous."

He opened his mouth to argue back, but Egosto silenced him with a gesture. "We are here to discuss the matter of tomorrow. It was promised that Nyax-Acan would return then, was it not?"

Uixel, poring over a large calendar with many markings, nodded. Jascuan nodded. "I knew him briefly in my youth. He taught me all of value that I know. His words were clear, as well. He would return to deliver judgement upon the Cazenax." The old man sighed, once again seeming small and weak. "I have done what I can. I believe that our young king has too, but the rot lies deep." He shook his head. "It will be you stuzéts' best chance to break free. Godspeed."

"He was human, was he not?" asked Egosto, and old Jascuan nodded once more. Attention turned to the four humans in the room, dozens of curious sirrahi eyes studying them as if they might somehow be connected to this shadowed figure of myth and legend, as if they might yet know something.

“How will we know him if we see him?" inquired Uixel uncertainly. “We have only old paintings and the memories of a blind man." She bowed her head respectfully. “I intend no offense, honoured one."

"None taken."

“Wasn't he a Constantian, like them?" prodded Samaxi, also studying the newcomers. She pointed at Evander. “With golden hair like his?"

Desmond listened as information flew and he latched on. Information of factions, ideologies, networks, plans, and now some kind of dietic figures return. It seemed strange though, this figure was Constantian and had golden hair.

Desmond nodded to himself as he thought for a moment and asked, "Who is this Nyax-Acan? What is he like?"

So, it appears, at the very least some of these revolutionaries were not behind the plot to assassinate Stazen, Evander continued listening, but killing wasn't out of their realm of options either. Evander concluded as Cazelui pronounced that these people were always about killing.

The group broke out into conflict. Some praising Stazen, others rejecting his ability to change much. Desperation tugged at several hearts among them in the room, Evander could feel it. While the other side felt hopeful as they communicated a holistic picture of their reality as a part of this city. In the end, they seemed to align or at the very least - tune in to each other about one thing, the promise of a Nyax-Acan.

Evander looked at all the sirrahi as the discussion continued, did any of them know or have heard about Disska? Whenever he encountered sirrahi, he never knew when it was right to bring up his event with their kind in history. The event of the sixth moon setting. It was a core question whenever he crossed other sirrahi. Then, Samaxi pointed at Evander's golden hair. Dozens of sirrahi stared, studied, and Evander was singled out.

Still leaning on the wall, Desmond interjected with a question about Nyax-Acan's identity before Evander could react or respond. There was only one other person with blonde hair like his who was in these parts, and who went the same direction as him.

Although they didn't explain themselves, the conversation proved insightful enough. Jascuan, or Valcuo, and the sirrahi are waiting for Nyax-Acan and he would come soon. The King's assassination stems from him upsetting the elite by attempting to help the lower class. No, I can I say that for sure? They bring up that he is one of them, a slave owner. But then why are they okay with Jascuan. Is it from his lack of sirrahi slaves or is it from his actions? Do they not see people like Zox as slaves?

One thing for sure is that the king was a point of contention, probably why they, as a group, had no involvement. Egosto words pricked the back of Tku's head. He was removed and heavily self interested. They had met the older version of him before. He wanted help but was it to work out the kinks in his former plan or to change the mindset of his former self to see this as more than just them.

Tku would prefer the latter. If you see all around you as enemies, no, as obstacles, you tend to miss the greater picture. This will end in much bloodshed at this rate. And not just for the Cazenax.

Tku would need time to process the pieces moving but in the meantime, a simpler idea. Who was Nyax-Acan? Constantion, blonde, male, extreme sensibilities. Hmm. Tku started piecing things together and those very basic things matched their missing person but the angry child was younger than Tku. Unless... Tku asked Stela this time, "By any chance do you have the painting of him near you? And If I can appear ignorant a bit longer, does Nyax-Acan have any particular meaning? This is my first time interacting with the language".

Tku had some hope. Maybe he tried to use a portal to escape his foolish idea and it failed like how Tku would accidently draw bits of himself as a child. Temporal magic might have spectacular results if it fails.

"I've yet to dabble into chemical all too much, I've mostly used it to further my own senses." Perhaps he was overconfident, perhaps the incompetency of others around him got him to feel so confident about his own abilities. As he was waved off he stood there for a little bit longer, fists clenched and in an act of rare humility of the boy he lowered his head and bowed, partially out of shame and partially out of frustration. "You seem to know quite a bit around the ins and outs of my craft....." He paused, as if a rock was stuck in his throat. ".... I... would be honored if you could teach me more about it." Walking off from the older man soon after.

The eyes of the Sirrahi stung like no other after such a shameful display, normally he would pose or do a trick in a situation like this. However there he stood, rather meek compared to his usual persona. Seeing these snake people discuss some person of legend was something he did not pay too much attention too until some characteristics were named. Constantian... golden hair.. like the snobby noble? He was hit with a cold sweat as an absurd theory roamed through his mind. No, no, no! Even if all kinds of absurd things have happened ever since the sand wyrm... He began to bite on his thumb with a rather annoyed smirk plattered on his face. "It can't be, it shouldn't be." He awaited further information before saying much more, scared to be looked at as a madman.

Desmond nodded his head as he spoke, "It might just be. Crazy bastard might have just done it".

"Seems we are of like mind," Tku nodded. He had wondered if the blonde child had come to the same speculation.

The sirrahi nodded, Cazelui retrieving a picture, and they presented it to the four humans. Through the entire process, Jascuan sat perched at the edge of his chair, an enigmatic smile creasing his aged lips. “I did my best with this,” she said softly. “Not my best work, but I tried to follow instructions.”

The picture that was put forward did the best job it could making its subject look dignified but, for anyone who'd known him, it was clear as day. Nyax-Acan, whose name Stela had explained meant "Dark Explosion", was none other than their recently-disappeared classmate, Benedetto Corvi.

It was as he could sense from the signals in their brains the dawning recognition that Valcuo-Azcaniz finally spoke. “You are them, then: the people he told me about.” The elder nodded. “It would've been an exceptional coincidence if not.” There was a bit of a smile. “I'm not sure what all of these words mean, but he asked me to pass them onto you. He said, 'Desmond, you're a nerd', 'Stop hiding in the corner, Fiske', 'I'm better looking than you, Evander', and 'Who's the other guy, again?' He always did have a childish sense of humour despite his greatness.”

Desmond had a smile creep on his face as he heard the name and then saw the picture of none other than the shit storm himself. However, once he heard what Benedetto had left them, he bursted out laughing.

"Gods be damned! The motherfucker flung himself!" Desmond began to laugh as he held his chest, laughing at the absurdity, the absolute luck, and the sheer hilarity of it all being left in a message.

Once Desmond stopped laughing, he nodded his head and clear his throat while he said, "Yeah, that'd be us. He's a friend".

Tku nodded as he was quite impressed. It was dignified and easy to make out. Maybe some technical things could be improved on but overall it was very fine, "Well done, it's clear and noble. We definitely know this person." The cherry on top was the translation, dark explosion? Tku snickered, "A fine descriptor."

Tku let out a guttural laugh, "Well it makes sense, I only met him today." Tku had enjoyed this entertainment but he steadied himself, It be rude to keep laughing. The him I knew is not the ones they pray to. Afterall, I'm sure Shune-Zept's acquaintances saw him as quite quarky. Tku let whatever momentary energy settle before he continued, "Even if I only met him for the day, I'm glad he's alright. For us he disappeared in the recent sandstorm. I had been concerned but my skills would've failed me if I were to look for him in the desert."

Fiske looked fuming. Can anything make sense today? That idiot Benny did something idiotic and is praised for years now... And for all the messages you could've left you Revidian bastard... His face turned to a smug smirk, combined with a little snort. "Never seen him so dignified before, guess all Revidians have the same 'dignified' energy after all."

Friend? Just the thought of viewing him as a friend makes me gag. In most cases I'm nothing but a pissing pole to him... A sigh escaped the boy. "Dark explosion? Did he dabble into Dark Magic now as well?"

Evander peeled off the wall to look at the painting, identified Benny and cracked a smile, I didn't know Benny was insecure about his looks, what a tool. He looked up at the sirrahi in the room, "We know him. What exactly did Nyax-Acan tell you and what is your prophecy about him?" Evander was curious to the details of this story between these revolutionaries and their classmate. There seemed to be some prophecy of his return to judge the Cazenax, but to what end, and what else did he share with them about his return or his favor to judge the Cazenax.

Jascuan turned his head in the vague direction of the human voices. Questions and reactions were flying thick and fast. It was not he who answered, however, but rather Stela-Zomé. “So far as we're aware,” she said, “He was always a dark mage. He claimed to be the most powerful one alive.” It was Evander who she addressed next, however. “Well, it's not so much a prophecy,” she amended, “as there's a schedule. He appears once every forty years, on the same day, and stays for two months.” She quirked an eyebrow. “Does this sort of thing fit with your friend?”

“The last time that we saw him, I was a young man," Jascuan explained. “Hard to believe I was ever young, now." He shook his head. “He wasn't happy about the direction our society was going in. Promised he'd change things the next time he came back." The elder shrugged. “Maybe that's why Stazen's doing what he's doing." A good few of the sirrahi nodded in agreement. “Maybe that's why you're here: to help in some way."

Egosto-Alguo nodded. "I doubt the timing's a coincidence." He spread his arms. "Unless he was completely wrong about you, I think the idea's that you help us bust out of here."

"Of course," Cazelui was quick to interject, "That's a choice and not a condition, right?" She regarded Egosto warily, eyes flicking between him and her human acquaintances.

Desmond shook his head a little more, having his smile finally fading away. With Benedetto's actions, he sent himself back in time and began to become some important figure within this city, Seeming to dissappear for decades at a time before reappearing and getting status checks, possibly even doing nudges here and there while trying to do smaller jumps forward in time. Possibly trying to preserve his own youth while seeing how his actions effect this city.

Yet something is off, from what is being said, he has either embellished himself and made himself seem stronger than he trully is, or he may have gone even farther back in time than thought. Possibly he had trained to a certain point and then was finally was able to do these jumps. Then being called the 'strongest Dark Mage ever' makes sense.

Desmond didn't dwell over these ideas, Desmond nodded as he said, "I'd be happy to help". He then looked to Jascuan, "Since it seems he'll be showing up soon. I'd like to discuss the happenings within this city and get a firm understanding on how this place works. Preferably before...Nyax-Acan returns". Desmond seemed to slightly struggle to remember the name Benedetto made here but managed it enough.

Forty years and two months, Tku speculated if their was some kind of message in it or pure coincidence? 402 months. Days is... Tku mind melted for a bit, having to break out an abacus in the end, 14,673 Days...I get a feeling that there isn't a specific reason. Maybe it was chosen to appear in the next season, or every generation. Or It's the furthest he can jump at his skill. Maybe there is something stopping him from interacting like the future Egosto-Alguo. Tku wasn't going to deduce it with his limited information so he set them aside.

Tku had nothing to say about the child's skill in dark magic but for the age he was, Tku doubted it to be the truth when he hurled himself through time.Though with what has happend to me? Maybe. Tku saw Egosto-Alguo comment as nonthreatening until Cazelui added some context.

His neck tingled. I see how it is, Tku met eyes with Egosto-Alguo. "I assure you Egosto-Alguo, we were asked to help," Tku paused before continuing, "That being said, let's rest for the night. Tku stood and he rubbed his neck like it was sore before he healed the aches with chemical and binding, "Any takers?" Tku grasped onto Desmond's shoulder and relieved the burdens on the day.

"Do we have a place to sleep for the night?" Tku asked everyone in the room. Tku looked at the table, "How about a grand meal from Virang?" Tku smiled as he whipped his hand over the table. Mutiple hot dishes filled the table, plates and bowls and all. More than a dozen options with drinks as well. Even Tku was stunned at his own skill and as the smells wafted to his nose, Oh thank you Sky Snake! Tku told them about the meal and its origins as well as what certain ingredients are.

As they finally finished Tku offered one last thing, "Since we were such an unexpected arrival," Tku pulled on his blood and binding powers to create these colorful pillows that to the touch felt like clouds. "It's made of the feathers of the Wullieweid, The giant penguin of Eskand. They even stay cool as you sleep on them." He made the sirrahi some extra large one with a much more durable material to account for the claws and scales, still just as soft.

Desmond rolled his shoulder once Tku placed his hand upon it and the stiffness left. Desmond nodded in agreement as he said, "I think a rest would be good, it has been quite a joureny just to get here".

Desmond allowed Tku to preform his act, which even included food. Yet when Desmond looked upon it, it looked gray, slimey, and unappetizing while Tku was forming it. Desmond's face winced slightly when he rememebred all the 'food' he was fed, and the sickening nothingness it tasted like. Desmond wished not to experience that same feeling again, he thought he moved past that.

Yet the food formed more and more as color began to appear and smell soon followed. Desmond sighed relief as he was then greeted with food that he quickly took bits of to taste and was greeted with real taste.

Desmond Tku on the back with an approving nod while he allowed the others to look on in awe.

What are you are doing here Benny? Evander dropped his head down to ponder, Benny's playing with time, as sirrahi do, and the Traveler. Was Benny preparing these sirrahi for the war? He remembered Disska explaining the war between sirrahi and the knowers. He remembered the Traveler's take in the tunnels last year. Evander began to recall the role of humans in the war to come, what humans are supposed to become to help the sirrahi and Sipenta. Helping second-class citizens would not have been out of the Traveler's M.O. either. The question remained, which side was Benny on? It could be that he is on his own side taking advantage of the situation, or leading them to a worse fate than as second rate citizens.

Evander looked up to ask the elder, "Bust you out of here? To where?" Then again, maybe it was to when.

Sleep? Do you think I can even sleep after all of this? Fiske was still frustrated by it all. Starting to walk towards the way they entered.

"This room is too cluttered... Have fun eating your gray, slimey goop." With that he cloaked himself once more before exiting the room. What an annoying day... I need to be better, need to do better...

Tku was offended but didn't say anything and just rolled his eyes. "If you come across Ayla or Marci let them know about what's been talked about," Tku waved at him, mostly writing off the pouting child. Then a thought crossed his mind of another feisty child the little Kite Tusker that was there, Tku worried of it's safety, and hoped only the best for it.

Into the night, many more talks are had, people eat, and work on side projects was done, such as Tku with his armor for Classa, and Fiske with honing his skills. With sleep finally taking them, the question left in their mind was still: Why are they here?

---

Qasem was going to take a life, a mostly innocent one at that. All to ensure the evils stored within the crown do not reach the mortal world. Even if it tainted his own soul, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. His holy vow to uphold the Six’s will clashed with his values, and he had made his choice. He sentenced Dorothea to death, with the crowns destruction all but secured once the heinous act was committed.

He carried the girl under his arm, aided by the unnatural strength that only grew as time passed. Held on his other hand were the stolen metal flasks. The other beasts naturally avoided him as his wildblood scent became apparent to his own senses, leaving any pursuer to struggle against intercepting beasts. The Darhannic’s destination was the hunting lodge he had scouted out, where he could finish the job without being exposed in the middle of the first.

The door was tackled open. Qasem had grown in size, as did his teeth. The shifting bone structure was pure agony to him, but he soldiered on. Dory was tossed into the singular bed of the edifice before he fell to his hands, just barely catching the edge of the dining table. “Damn it …” he panted, cold sweats rapidly accumulating as the transformation got more and more aggressive. A shivering hand reached for one of the concealed vials inside his vest, one containing a few millilitres of plushtail oil. But as he dried to pour the substance into his mouth, his hand spasmed, causing the glass to fall and break onto the floor. “No!” he growled as he smashed his fist onto the table, obliterating it. It was not going to stop his transformation, but it was to delay it.

“I … Can’t let you … Leave!” Dory heard a distorted voice that sounded like her ally’s. He hardly looked like Qasem anymore as she slowly came to, seeing the world around her blurry and her body still a tad numb. “We both can’t leave!” screamed the partially transformed Qasem as he raised his massive palm over Dory’s head, just about ready to crush it along with the crown.

Dory, waking up to a massive palm raised over her head kept quiet, thoughts racing through her mind as to what to do. In fear she tried to push herself away with what little kinetic knowledge she had. "We can't leave?!" She blurted it out in a little bout of fear and frustration. Why me? What did I do?

Not wasting much time, the girl took out her dagger and readied for whatever this... thing would do. Taking a deep breath whilst not lowering her guard. "Why can't we leave?"





Missed. Qasem had missed his strike when it was sprawled so conveniently for him. He wouldn't have missed it had he been human. But alas, he was more beast than man at this point. Still, his mind was present like a four moons transformation, but his body was quickly undergoing a full transformation much like the rest of the villagers. It hurt so much, and the constant wheezing from this once pious man was a reminder to all of just how insidious this plague truly was to the people. It wasn't just a weekly blackout, it was inhuman pain they were mercifully made to forget, but the body most certainly remembered.

“You. Are. Tainted.” he managed to utter in a distorted voice, his drool coated lips barely moving as he uttered the words as he removed his hand from the obliterated bed he had just smashed. “Demon!” his animalistic eyes were fixed on Dory's porcelein head, so eager to pluck it out of her body like a pineapple. His massive body charged toward the girl, keen on pinning her and finishing the job.

Not too far was her rifle dropped under the table that held a half-opened map and the vials Qasem had taken with him.

The frenzy abruptly stopped as the malformed wildblood began to sniff the air. He was too late, her friends had already caught up. And, oddly enough, he recognized the stench of the Yasoi harlot all too well, along with the expected boyfriend. He wished it didn't have to come to this - that only he and this girl would be the only casualties of this underhanded initiative - but Oraff had completely forsaken on this night. None would be spared, for the sake of all is good in this world.

The girl's eyes began to sharpen as she pumped herself full so that her focus stayed on target. "Tainted? The hells do you mean? My goals are pure!" Making sure to keep her distance from the beast. "But that's funny coming from the words of a tainted man." She could make an attempt for the rifle but felt it was slightly too risky in their current standoff. Demon?... Ah, so that's what it's about. Smirking with a rather annoyed look plastered on her expression. "This crown? Everyone's talking about it for a while. Is it one of the divine artefacts of the gods or something? First Ismette, then Laska and a damned mutt? The hell do you pay so much attention to my little head apparel?"

It was at that very moment that Leluun burst inside. She had heard it all. "Oh for fuck's sake, Dory," she huffed, "Stop. Just stop. You wear it when you're in class. You wear it when you're out with friends." She rolled her eyes before shooting the half-transformed Qasem a warning glare. "You wear it at school clubs. You took it into the bathchamber, the privy, and you wore it to bed for the love of Dami!" She shook her head. "Cut the shit." She pointed at Qasem. "Wolfbreath here's a fucking psycho, but he's right. That shit's not normal. It just isn't. Full stop." She snorted a much-vexed sigh and shook her head in annoyance. "I'm a dark mage. I know demons far better than I'd like to, and there's at least a tier five in your crown, making you dance like a marionette." Her voice went from incredulous to earnest but deadly serious. "Take it off now - prove you can do it - and I'll make sure Beauty over here doesn't lay a finger on you, so help me Pentad." She made the sign of the Pentad, but she was drawing energy as she spoke. "Don't, and I remove it myself."

Qasem, or what was left of the man, had the instinct to stop and shoot a glare back at not-Ismette. She spoke reason, for once in this crazy adventure, someone spoke sense. He could just barely restrain himself from exacting the removal on his own, but he backed off, instead reaching for the poison-coated spear that seemed much shorter than it was before. Gods was he big, nearly destroying the beams of wood that kept this cabin together.

"Ismette? What's this about all of the sudden?" Dory looked fairly confused at the knife-ear she never recognized to act this way throughout an entire year. "You want me to remove it?" Her free hand travelled towards the crown on top of her head, stopping as she was about to touch it. "Why? You just want it for yourself?" Her hand shook from hesitation.

Leluun narrowed her eyes. "Stop deflecting." Her voice was cold now. "I want you to take that evil thing off of your head so I can have my friend back before a demon takes her soul. That is all. Please, Dory." She paused and tilted her head as if noticing something. "If you don't trust me, you should give it to Manfred and he can take care of it. I can sense him approaching and so can you if you don't believe me. Surely, he's someone beyond reproach."

Dory's expression was one of mental torment. "I'm not deflec-..." She cut herself off, letting out a long sigh to cool her head. "Fine, as long as I can get it back." poking the crown whilst staring down 'Ismette' "I'll take it off once Manfred arrives, alright?"

"I thought our friendship meant more," Leluun sighed, "But very well." She kept an eye on Qasem, in case he tried anything. She could se the chemicals in his body, the flux in his mind. He was losing control. It hurt her to see, but there was something far grander and more dangerous at play. Qasem breathed heavily, and spittle oozed from his dark, canine lips. He shot an inhuman look at the Yasoi.

"Our friendship does mean a lot!" Her mind was in anguish as mixed emotions ran rampant. "Why does waiting a longer hurt you so? I still trust you." Her hand grabbed onto the crown, almost determined to show her she could do it on a whim.. but her hand could only shiver at the attempt.

Manfred appeared in the doorway, rifle raised, pointed at Qasem. "Manfred," said Leluun, "The crown. You know it's unnatural, how she wears it. It's a demonic artifact. I asked her to give it up to you since she wouldn't trust me with it." Her eyes were large and pained. "This is Qasem now. He's infected. He's trying to hold onto his reason. I can cover him if he loses it."

"Is there any truth to her words, Dory? Do I trust this witch?" Manfred's eyes darted her way, and then Dory's before settling back on Qasem. He was prepared to act, they could tell. He kept his distance and kept in ready position, brimming with energy.

"I wanted to give it to you because Ismette wanted me to take it off." Her hand started to get steady, preparing to take it off for the one held most dear. "I trust Ismette, Manny... However, she's been acting weird." a saddened expression covered her face as she looked towards Manfred.

Leluun merely watched, immune to the words. Then, they became more than that. In a single, smooth motion, Manfred trained his rifle on Ismette. "My love, she is right that the crown has a demon in it and that you need take that thing off, but..." His eyes flashed about, paranoid. "not now. Not in her presence. Your instincts are right: this is not Ismette. It's something else wearing her skin."

The presence of Manfred expedited the growing desire for violence bubbling inside Qasem. Like a sneeze he had been holding back for far too long, it was getting unbearable. And then came actual violence. Gun pointing on not just himself, but the supposed 'witch' that saw reason in all this madness. No more humanity, he couldn't afford it anymore. All he could do to show that he was a man was readying his spear for a quick, horizontal slash aimed right at Dory's head. Neck, scalp, anything in between, it didn't matter. It just had to go along with that crown.

It was at that moment that Dory's fingers brushed the crown. The world slowed to a crawl. "You are about to die." It was Vedil. "But I can save you. I want to. Please, Dory. Let me take the wheel." The whole situation was getting way out of hand for her. She just wanted to do this task and go back to Ersand'Enise and now she's facing a nigh-imminant death. "Can you keep the others safe too? I do not wish for Manny to get hurt again." "It is you who I am loyal to and you who is about to lose her head. I will do what I can for him, but Manfred is...capable. Have faith in him." She knew she shouldn't but the fear of death got to her. "Fine... but please. I can't bear to lose him again.. He is a priority as well."

With that, for the first time in centuries, Vedil knew what it was to have a body. It was not one that he would've preferred, but it was willing, at least. There was no more young woman named Dorothea standing in the space that Qasem's spearpoint passed through. Instead, there was only the hungering darkness. The tip of it was removed from reality, cleanly severed as if it had never been there in the first place. Dory reappeared somewhere nearby, only... she wasn't Dory anymore. She looked like herself, but she carried herself differently, moved differently, and used magic that the others could not quite fathom. She reached out to commune with the void.

Then, there was a flash of darkness, as paradoxical as it may have been, and Leluun disappeared. Manfred's eyes darted around wildly, and he tried to reach out and sense her.

Nothing.

She reappeared in front of Dory. "You were warned." Her hand shot out, a bullet from a rifle, straight for Dory's face. The speed of it was absurd, but so were this false Dorothea's reflexes. The bulletlike punch grazed her cheek, scoring it deeply and raising a bleeding welt. Instead, it smashed into the wall behind her with enough force to punch a perfectly clean hole through it. There were no splinters - no mess - to speak of. Then, Leluun was gone again.

Without hesitation, Manfred snapped off a volley of five shots at her. A wall of shadow ate them all. "I recognize your reek, Vedil!" Leluun screamed. "And I, yours, High Devil." Vedil smirked. Then, a void portal opened over Dory's head. The bullets came screaming back out at her, only to be stopped midair. They clattered to the ground, thumping on the worn wooden floor of the cabin that had become a battleground. "Your presence is not required here, Manfred. Desist or die."

Nauseating dark magic reigned surpeme in this bad. Manfred's bullets mere hazards liberally used by Leluun to bolster her own wicked powers and direct all the hostilities toward the possessed Dorothea. The transformed Qasem could smell the reek of something else coming from the possessed girl, and it drove him mad. Animalistic pants were becoming louder than the verbal exchanges made by the entities at play and telegraphed the coming brutish assault from the beast clergyman.

Binding magic restored his spear while blood magic began to compromise the foundations of the cabin. He aggressively drew to bolster the size and sharpness of his spear while using the small bit of intelligence he had left to add lethality to the poison coating his spear. The venomous tip was thrusted foward to the Feskan Puppet, this time aiming for her heart. Yet all the spear did was evaporate as it tried to hit it's mark.

It was a lost cause now. The demon had taken over and her friend - its puppet - was gone. Leluun tore from the VOID willingly and eagerly, hurling a bolt of pure anti-reality at her target and it would've overwhelmed her, too. But then there was that fool, Manfred. Seeing the sorceress try to harm his beloved, he ripped a chunk of matter from the fireplace and hurled it into the path of the dark bolt, using every magic at his disposal in the effort.

It was successful, and the thing that controlled Dorothea did not waste the opportunity. For all that Leluun tore from the VOID, she pulled far more power and her reprisal happened so quickly that the yasoi had not even fully registered her failure.

The dark bolt materialized out of an enveloping nothingness. It flew and struck Leluun and cleaved right through her. There was a split second where her eyes widened. Memeories of a dozen lifetimes flashed through her mind's eyes. It was true, then, about your life flashing before your eyes. Last was Tyrel. Last was Merit. Last was her mother, but the face was her own. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for all of it. Then, she was gone.

Manfred paused. He looked at Dory. She was not his Dory. There was not an ounce of remorse. In fact... there was a smile. A sick, wicked little grin wormed its way onto her face and it was the most disgusting thing he could recall seeing. He swayed where he stood. What had he done? His heart pounded and he could feel his pulse in his ears.

It wasn't that Ismette had died. She was a vile and worthless thing in her own right. It was the coldblooded ruthlessness of it - it was the twisted enjoyment. This was not Dory. It was an ancient evil in her place. Manfred turned his rifle. He knew his duty.

He fired.

It was a desperate gambit. He knew how these demons worked. He had spent hours upon hours studying their foul nature by candlelight. Much as it pained him, Manfred needed to wound his beloved mortally. Then, the demon would leave. Then, he could heal her. Then, he could save her. She was busy with the slavering beast that had been Qasem and, like any good magusjaeger, he took advantage. Two shots to distract the beast: four aimed straight for the chest of his beloved. Two punched through her. She let out a cry of pain, stumbled forward, and coughed up a thick dark gob of blood. The crown fell from her head and clattered before her. Instinctively, despite the unbelievable pain and spreading coldness, she reached out and clutched it.

"You see why we shouldn't trust him?" Vedil purred in her mind's ear. "How quickly he turns on you? How he would murder you? Is that love?" It was clear that her friend int he crown did not think so. "You are going to die at his hand, Dorothea, but I will never betray you. I will never hurt you. We are in this together, I promise. I must heal you or it will be the end. Hand me the reins, once more, and I will deal with this problem, for us."

Dory displayed a face of shock. The person she gave everything for... shot her? Was Ismette really gone? A blood-curdling scream coming from her. "Why?!" She cried out. Maybe it was a panicked shot from what happened... She tried her hardest to rationalize everything that had happened in this small space. He would never betray me right? Can you not heal me and give me control back? I might be able to convince him to stop The girl looked conflicted.

Manfred was not fast to react. The world felt faint and fuzzy and his pulse hammered through his ears. Fortunately, Dory, even with the blood soaking through her dress, had the wherewithal to blast the wildblood's hand with coldfire and force it to retract. It was a reminder that this was still within reach. Manfred could do it. He knew his beloved. She was tough and, free of this evil relic's grasp, she was good. He could not bear to see her suffer, even less because he had been the one to cause it. He just needed to kill a beast, and killing beasts was what Manfred Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thadau did.He regarded the thing that Qasem had become with imperious coldness masking hellish fury. "I never liked you anyways."

Manfred rolled to the side, pulled upon Magnetic magics, and arced the bullets right into the werewolf's stomach and back. It was the spine. It would heal, of course, but it would buy him time and time was what Manfred needed most. It was what Dory needed.

As the magusjager's shots usually did, these ones struck true.

Qasem, mind slowed by the corrupt blood running through his veins, had to inefficiently flails his burning arm to subdue the invisible flames. It was shameful to see, a man so knowledgeable in the chemical arts, now dealing with the prestigious Coldfire spell in such a brutish manner. It opened him up to being shot in multiple spots, prompting gurgles and growls to be solely directed at Manfred. He was now the target.

The beast began to aggressively draw from the Magusjaeger's flesh via blood magic, the exact same way Casii had. Dory was also at risk of being caught in it.

"There must be only certainty. They are trying to kill you. They are not your friends. Let me help you," the demon pleaded. It was at that moment that she started to feel it, dimly, through her compromised senses: a tug on the crown. Manfred's face was haunted, eyes wide and sunken, implacable.

Manfred pulled, then, with all of his might, but Dory's strength, suddenly, was inhuman, and Manfred knew it for the demon. "Let it go!" he bellowed. "Let her go, you fiend!!!" He could not pry it loose. It was, at this juncture, clearly the most precious thing in the world to her.There was nothing else he could do. If Manfred couldn't take the crown from Dory, he'd just move it with her attached to it. As Qasem closed in, the magusjaeger slacked off in his pulling such that what had to be Vedil relaxed in its struggle. Then, at the last second possible, Manfred yanked suddenly upward. The solid metal object caught the malformed wildblood beneath its snout and sent it sprawling backwards.

Qasem roared, almost entirely consumed. He only had one focus.
A ball of condensed flame is formed on his palm from the matter he had syphoned via blood magic earlier in the fight. It becomes a sphere of molten matter, a fusion of blood, chemical and kinetic. It was sloppy with his fur beginning to burn, but it was potent. If he couldn't get the crown, he'd destroy everything in his way and everything around the wicked object.

---

♫

It was not an act of mercy, though some might've construed it that way. It was an execution: an act of the purest hatred. Qasem fell, a bullet hole through his head and another through his throat. No wildblood resilience or healing factor could undo those.

Manfred rushed over to Dory's side. He had done it! He had slain the beast and now he would heal her. He reached out with his senses, both mundane and magical, praying at once to Ipte, Oraff and Dami as he started to gather what he needed to bind.

She wasn't moving.

There was no heartbeat.

For a moment, he would swear, his own stopped. "Meine liebe!" He knelt there, holding the woman he'd loved, her stiffening hand still clenched around that accursed relic in what was now truly a deathgrip. "Meine liebe..." His hands shook, then, of their own accord. They shook and the inside of Manfred became a dead, painful, hollow thing. His mind thought no thoughts and the sound that he released was an animal thing. He screamed. He hammered his hands into his face and wept bitter, cruel tears. He had done this. It had been him, not the crown and the devil in it.

His hands fell away and, even amid the endless of suffering of a small Kerreman town called Mandelein, there was no soul more bereft, more stricken than that of Manfred Hohenfelter. Nothing. It had all been for nothing. He had been torn from Dory - his Dory, with her sweet, loving voice and her freshly baked cookies on Victendes mornings. So much had he suffered. So much had he fought, against the dark sorceress Ismette. He had watched friends fall: Penny, Desmond, Ashon, and the paradigm himself, Hugo Hunghorasz. Yet, they had prevailed. Then, he'd been torn from them. Torn and brought here. The tears came thicker and faster. They thought he was dead! They were his people and they thought he was dead.

But... perhaps it was for the better. What an animal he'd become! He'd conspired to murder. He'd shot his beloved, even if she wasn't exactly his. He'd come to a sort of happiness with her but, now, even that was gone. This Ismette wasn't even evil. She'd been an ally and he'd been instrumental in her death. He'd killed Qasem: a good - if misguided - man. He'd killed elders and children. He'd spilled blood for this stupid, ungrateful town. He'd... Manfred looked up at the sky through the collapsed roof and ruins. Four of the five were up there tonight, all except for Dami, but he knew that he was being judged. There was no way he could not be. Desperately, the weak man that he was beneath all of his swagger and bravado, Manfred seized upon the object of his hatred - that fell thing still clutched in dear dead Dory's hand. He could do one thing, at least, hollow though it was: he could destroy it.

He hesitated for only a second before his hard darted out, clawlike, to grab it. No sooner did his fingers touch the warm metal - wet with the blood of the woman he'd been trying to save - than he felt a voice inside of his head. "Hello, Manfred."

"Get out of my head!!! Get out, vile thing! You killed her!"

There was a pause and he dared to believe that he was rid of it. He was wrong. "No, Manfred. You did. You did and they will see the bullet wounds in her and in Qasem and in Ismette. These people who have already shown what they think of you. Who already react to good will with fear and suspicion."

If he hesitated, it was only for the barest of moments. "You will not find me so easily swayed by your sweet poison, demon. I would die to stop myself from becoming your vessel."

"Oh, I know," came the reply, "You are not a man afraid of suffering to do what he thinks is right." Vedil's devilish voice was almost... sympathetic. "That is why I would not even dream of making such an offer."

"Whatever it is, I am not interested. You end here." He gathered every bit of heat that he could and began filling the evil crown with it. He cared little for the burning flesh of his hand.

"I can take you back!" the voice pleaded, with no little urgency. "I can take you back to them! To where you belong! You and I will never see each other again. My counterpart in your reality was defeated."

"But you will remain," Manfred replied. "Here, you will remain."

"One does not make an offer without some recompense, and that is what I do for you now, Manfred Hohenfelter, twice killed, twice a killer." Vedil had been rushing but, now, his voice calmed. The heat that had threatened to melt his reliquary was cooling. "I only ask that you wash your hands of this place so that I may wash my hands of you. You shall remember nothing if you wish. You may return, in fact, to the very moment of your supposed 'death' in your true world. It will be as if all of this never happened, for you and for your loved ones."

"And you will work your evils anew."

"This is not your world, though the Dorothea here was callous enough to rip you from it and bring you here. She was never yours. She was mine and her unwillingness to let me go, to part with me when it would've ended the entire threat to herself and everybody else here, stands as evidence. I ask you, Manfred Hohenfelter: Why should you care?"

---

♫

Dory was standing in a white room. It was featureless, save for the deepest, darkest spot of blackness. It resolved itself into a man: he was short and lean and middle-aged, his black hair smoothed back, his leathery skin pale and hard. His eyes burned orange-red - they did not glow - and a pair of horns grew from the top of his head. He stepped forward, boots echoing on the pristine floor, hands clasped at the small of his back, a long cloak swirling about his ankles.

"No, I am not some embodiment of Eshiran," he said simply, answering her mental prompt. "I am the one you know as Vedil. This is my true form, and I stand between you and the death god's gates." He unclasped his hands and spread them. His brow was furrowed and his face concerned. "Why did you not trust me?" He turned and looked away for a moment, taking a breath to gather himself. His voice was shaky now. "For the past year, we have known each other." He swallowed. "We have worked together. We have triumphed and - yes - sometimes even failed together." He came to a stop a couple of feet in front of her. His being was otherworldly, but also so startlingly human, but for those unfathomable eyes: so mundane. "I do not want to let you die." He shook his head. "I do not want to die."

He took another deep breath and he was settled. "A demon I may be, but when have I ever acted like the monster that they claim? When have I ever asked you to do something that either did not benefit you or that you would not have done of your own volition? When have I ever asked you to do something immoral?" His voice rose in indignation. "And these attacks on you, I am so sorry. I am so very sorry, but they lie. Ismette, your 'friend' who tried to murder you, who you struck back at in self-defense. Edyta Laska: a 'nun' who uses the power of the VOID herself and hides secrets. Qasem, a holy man who sought the power of the wildbloods and then your power - our power! They say they want to destroy me but, when given the chance to do so, they attack you directly anyhow. It is your strength and your knowledge they crave, to make up for the great many things that they lack: all things that I saw in you." He took one more step forward and reached out to take her hands. "And I have yet more to give: a power that I would trust only you with, a power that can set much in this world right." He snorted. "I am not an evil being. I want to see you rise to power. I want to see you make the world right. It isn't my world. I wish, in truth -" he sighed, glancing down at his feet and then back up at her. "I wish only to live again - to live among mortals for one lifetime, as I have not done in centuries - to be whole again, and then to return to my realm in the void, to the people I care about. For this," he promised, "I will give you everything: all of my power, all that I have, for you to make matters right. This, I promise. You need only embrace me."

Dory looked around the white room, a shocked look on her face as the being that claimed to be Vedil told her something she had not expected to happen. Death god's gates? I'm dead? taking a deep breath, calming herself down. "You were right, I should have trusted you. " Her eyes filled with regret and guilt upon not having done so for the one that helped her thrive.

"Why did they attack me? I thought they were my friends... Even Ismette... Ismette.. the one person she talked to about dark magic decided to turn against he when just needed help." Her expression saddened before molding into one of anger. "They killed me when I had so much to do, to make the world a better place." Her eyes met it's. "I want to make the things right... To make right the country I care about, to make right this unfair world... I will embrace you."

♫

Vedil stepped forward and enfolded her in his arms. Dorothea felt his warmth, his power, his certainty flow into her through the embrace. "I thank you for your trust. It is dear to me, as are you."

With that gesture, the gashes and gouges in her body - the damage done to her by those who had claimed to be friends and lovers - were taken unto his person. Blood stained the demon's dark cloak as they separated, but he smiled beatifically and showed no sign of discomfort.

"Be healed, now. These are wounds I can bear," he assured her as the white room faded. He, too, faded: from person - real and corporeal and warm in his embrace - to a voice once again. "Until we see each other again in person, my dear Dorothea," he promised. Then, she was standing there in the ruins of a cabin in the forests of Mandelein, a dead werewolf beside her and not another soul to be seen.

As she began to mentally realize her surroundings once more, she realised... she was alone. The only other previously living thing being that of the Darhannic man's deformed form.. though she had to make sure it was truly dead. Her finger touched the carcass and before she could think of anything else it moved. Well, not it but it's flesh and bones began to move. They were forming a portal of sorts and out from it... came a pup?

---

---

---

---

Silas was gone. Nazih was gone. Marz was gone. She knew of two of their fates, but only truly cared for one. Marz was someone she valued and cared about. He'd crafted her first real weapon, a thing of beauty that had been lost to that wretched creature she'd fought at the proving grounds. Now, it was time to get her back, and they had to stock up for the mission ahead. Kirimansk had many stalls, it was a trading port, and one of the most important in her country. They couldn't rely on their magics any longer, they needed steel, bullets and black powder to fall back on. So she went with the others to gear herself up for the coming trial, only to find that Yvain and her were not welcome for her hijinks the other days. So, she disguised herself. A quick trick of Khaliun's altered her eye colour, and she dressed herself down, hiding her hair in a shawl. She'd played plenty at being a merchant in Ersand'Enise, it would not be hard to hide her air of importance.

And so, she shopped. Both to hide from the security of the venue, and to obtain information, power and equipment. As did her crew, though they did not need to dance around the shadows of stalls and remain occupied as she did. She was beginning to hate it. Hiding from the others, hiding her status, true nature, thoughts, skulking around the shadows like a common cutpurse. Yet it was a necessary evil. Not all would be so kind as Zarina and Penny. Not all would understand the burdens she bore, the price of such a power. Alas, in certain places within this complex, she did not have to hide. She found kinship with a few of the merchants, namely Fat Yuri. A portly man, and a great salesman. She enjoyed the bartering, the conversation and he was even so kind to put a good word for her at another store she intended to visit. A prime example of an ideal subject, one that it was her job to protect.

Her motley crew danced around the place and spent vast amounts of coin. Khaliun had managed to win the lottery with some shenanigans, and that other native girl, Oksana, had also enjoyed some luck in that regard. They proved the most prolific spenders, but Yuli did not find herself needing their coin, for she had plenty of her own. So, she went and bought most of what she needed. That was until she'd noticed an unusual book, marked with the seal of Verrano. Her and Penny both proved interested in the item, and so did Yvain, but the royals curiosity proved too much in this regard, and they went ahead and bought it, preparing to delve into the contents together.

---

@Force and Fury - Penny

---

Penny arrives at The Annex. She's nibbling on some mouillettes, dunking her toast in it, covered in Yuri's Special Sauce. She offers some to Yuliya and the two of them eat and talk. "That book is something special, I'm telling you," she was saying, as they loitered outside the Annex. "That's the seal of the Holy See of Verrano."
She cast about for Yvain, but he wasn't there yet. She sighed and finished off the last of her food. They could always just share it with him later, she supposed. "Ya ready, bloodsucker?" she whispered mischievously, leaning in. She licked her fingers and dusted the crumbs off of her chest.

Yuli smiled as she finished her last bite of egg and bread, as she too was intrigued in this little book. "I thought so. I wanted because it seemed holy, but if is holy seal, then is special, no? Is that your city, or Revidian? I get confused."

[color-pink]"Ready as you, peggy. Let go!"[/color] she spoke excitedly. She simply wanted to preserve what seemed to be the word of the gods, but if this truly was special, then she wondered. Just what could be inside?

Penny mock glared. "It's the worse one," she replied. Then Yuliya had a new nickname for her. "Fair play," she grumbled, walking up to the counter, where the book in question was one of the few behind it in a glass case. "Hello, good sir, we'd like to take a look at that one." She pointed, speaking slowly and simply.

She grinned all the while, heading to the Annex where she happened upon the book alongside Penny. "That one might be too much for her, I don't suppose you have a copy with colourful drawings and a nice water resistant cover to drool on?" she teased, as she pinched Penny's cheek and too gestured to the book they were after.

"I don't know the words, conasse, but I know the tone." She stuck her tongue out. She looked at the merchant, who looked back, unamused. She smiled sweetly. "We'll take it!"
With a disapproving look, he turned, took out a keyring, and unlocked it, carefully extracting the tome within. He held it out with both hands to the two young women before him, eyes momentarily flicking downwards. "The price is two-hundred oubles." he said simply, hands clasped reverently around it. Penny leaned in as they tried to negotiate, low-cut dress sliding partway off of one of her shoulders with a sneaky bit of coaxing. They got it for 40% off of what he'd been asking. Each paid ₽60 and they made their way over to a small sofa, Yuliya holding the book."We should do it at the same time," Penny advised. "Better chance that way, I think." Yuli nodded and anxiously placed her hand alongside Penny's. Her hands were trembling slightly with excitement. Would this be another encounter like the tower?

The cover seemed to resist them at first, but not as if it were glued shut or bound shut or even sealed with some sort of traditional magic. Then, both got their fingers under it and... it opened. Then, Penelope Pellegrin and Yuliya Ilyanovna Vassilieva were in a garden. The hedges were high and there was a man there in priestly robes, bending over some roses. He was unusually tall or... they were unusually small? Penny looked over at Yuliya and, in her place was a little blonde girl. She looked down at herself. None of the bosom she had leaned in with a minute earlier was present. She was... a child as well.
The man snipped at the bush with some shears.



"Penny? Yuli exclaimed in shock. She was.. a kid? What was this? Illusions? But they were in a no magic zone. And the man was so tall, no, she was shorter. This was different. She'd know if it was a trick. "Yuli," Penny confirmed. She twisted to face the man, leaning on... it was her old crutch: the wooden one she'd had as a kid. This was no illusion. "Père, excusé moi..." she began, and he turned suddenly, as if startled. The priest blinked and they could see that he was no ordinary priest. He was, in fact, an archbishop. "Young ladies?" He held the shears in one hand and a rose the colour of his robes in the other. "When did you get here? I must've missed you." Penny managed her best curtsy. It was less than perfect. In the same breath, Yuli realized the truth as well. She too saw the priest, tending to the garden. It did not feel familiar, yet she did not feel unwanted in this place, however foreign it might have been. She bowed in respect.

"Where are we, Patri?" she spoke, not knowing how to address the foreign yet familiar garb of the man "l'Archevêque," Penny whispered, voice ripe with reverence. The man smiled at both of the children. "You are in a very special place: one that is very real, or perhaps was. You are children, by the way, because you are learners here, just setting out on a journey." He nodded, bringing the rose to his face and sniffing momentarily. "It seems that my warding spell has somehow found two of you worthy. That," he mused aloud, "or you are particularly clever, and that is a worthiness in its own right, I suppose."

Yuli gasped. She knew of two instances that held magic of this scope, the aberration and the forked tower. Both of which involved the divine. It was true. She was chosen. It had been proven time and time again, perhaps they had more for her to carry out their will, as their vessel on earth. She immediately went onto her knees in reverance, even moreso than before. She had plenty of respect for priests and their ilk, but this was beyond that. She wanted to ask, but she could not find the words, so the only sound that left her lips was a simple gesture, one that she had not spoken much in her life.

"Thank you."

Small-Penny's eyes flashed towards small-Yuliya's and she, too, sunk to her single knee. This was magic well beyond their scope, like that of the Pulsating aberration or even beyond. "Holy Father," she asked tentatively, "If I may be so bold as to ask, who are you and what are we learning?"
"Oh, do stand up, girls, please," he repied, making his way over to a small table. There was the book upon it. He placed the shears to one side and the rose to the other. "and come sit with me." There were two chairs. Penny could've sworn there had been one before.

Yuli got to her feet, noticing the table there. She wiped the grass off her dress, and took Penny by the hand, leading her to the seat first, before taking one herself. He waited until both were seated, and then clasped his hands over the open book and began. They may have noticed that it appeared substantially newer than it had when they'd first gotten it. "My name is Remi Alonsius Picard, though you may know me as St. Remi," the archbishop began. "We are in my garden and this book here is my word. It teaches one of a study I delved into in my youth: it involves manas themselves and how the Gods allow us to commune with and exert control over them." Penny's eyes widened. They flashed Yuliya's way. Yuli's eyes followed suit as she listened to the Saint's words. He couldn't mean... surely not. She'd seen it in action, both when she uncovered Jocasta's secret and at the showdown between Hugo and the Progenitor. That was... magic that made monsters kneel before him, it was inconceivable. She turned back towards Penny, just as shocked, before realizing the immense opportunity that had been afforded to both of them.

"I am ready, Saint Remi. her shock quickly turned to determination and confidence.

Penny bowed her head. "I, too, am ready if you find us worthy."
He smiled beatifically and reached out with both hands. "Very well," St. Remi replied. He placed a hand on each of their heads and then there was the perception if not the sight of a flash. The manas swirled inside of their bodies, burning and tingling. Then, they were sitting their on the sofa in The Annex.

---

Following that extraordinary series of events, Yuli felt just as she had prior. This anti-magic zone sucked, and the sooner she could be rid of it, the better she would feel. Her and Penny regrouped with the others, to exchange information and find their comrade. And if she had to use this new power to destroy the enemies of the gods, and reunite with her friends, then she would do so gladly. For her encounters so far had proven her divine right, the judgement of Dami would be exercised through the crowns of men today, tomorrow and forevermore. For they would not fail with the gods on their side.

Yvain was not one for hiding who he was but it seemed that people didn't like him for some absurd reason. Whatever the reason might be, people were looking out for him and he had to meet up with the rest in some way or form. And thus he settled to follow in the Vossoriyan’s footsteps and hide amongst… the common folk. A merchant’s attire. Not being able to let shine through his noble status towards the poor masses. Nevertheless, his flawless disguise worked.

It would have probably been best to keep a low profile but there were just so many interesting things for sale! He walked around to buy a few things until stumbling upon Marta’s Emporium where he was called over by the shopkeeper. “Hey, you! Do you perhaps know a one legged girl?” The shopkeeper asked. ”I might know her, why would you ask?” The shopkeeper presented a carpet with a little message attached. ’Merry Caldores, Love Penny.’ The normally smug high society man began to shed a tear. ”So this is.. You remembered all this time?” He left the money that needed to be paid on the counter and left with the carpet.

He was going from shop to shop looking through the coolest little items he could get, from a stormchaser to a gnarly skull and even winning with a lottery ticket. After some shopping he met up with Penny and Yuliya, not being able to hold his joy in for a moment as he hugged his cousin. ”Thank you” He made a small detour after they went to the Annex to get some nice scoops of Perrench Vanilla for the three of them. He was feeling rather generous after the carpet I can’t wait to gift them the book! He happily walked towards the Annex, the two that he got ice cream for were not present. He rushed into the annex and the book wasn’t there. Did they ditch him? Did they just take the book and leave?

It did not matter for the reason, his generosity was thrown into the trash and he had to spend something to make himself feel better. Then… he stumbled upon the Robery where he found it. The coolest pair of robes he had seen in like forever. buying them without much hesitation about what he was spending on it. He just needed it. After trying it on and buying it he decided to meet up with the rest.

---

Event: Metropolis but at the docks and a cave.

---

So many shifting feelings inside of Ingrid at the moment. The fight started and ended so quickly that adjusting was rather difficult. She rubbed her jaw where that pain was but mere moments ago. She got herself to come down from the high that a fight gives.

Seems Maura was meeting up with that Ash fellow. A Sanguinare. They're not all evil but the ones at the top? Probably. Ingrid's eyes laid on Maura, and she wasn't going to tell us anything. Not the meeting, nothing. I don't even know about the Nikanese women or who it could be. How much had she done already? Ingrid couldn't give Maura any more trust. Give an inch, she takes a mile.

But now wasn't the time for that. No, she had the ability to speak to Wu Long more openly, Maura will be dealt with later.

Ingrid just gave a simple question, "What is the harmonious order? I know of some things involving Sanguinares and I'm not a supporter, that's for sure but I know nothing of the order you seem to represent."
She followed it with a general statement to the group at large, "Can we just speak openly before what could be a deadly battle?"

Ingrid found most of Wu Long's plan agreeable. The true color of things comes out in the details though and those she had some thought about.

She nodded along to the first and second points, nothing disagreeable there but she wanted some guarantees for people like Yong and Yin, people who have already suffered and need to be compensated.

Ingrid was very aware of what a large nation had to face. Eskand was essentially a continuous fall and now even the base is split in 5, you fall to the mercy of others just like they did when Revidia discarded them. She didn't know about the Jiang Dynasty but they could be worse than the current. a day to day governance makes sense but Ingrid leans toward taking even more power away, If a family is to set to be the ruler of all time, then they should be held responsible by the government as well. "I think you should take even more power away and give it to the public servants. That is just my general thought."

Ingrid was not sure about the dragons acting as custodians. They could easily turn into the blackguard and turn corrupt but saw no immediate need to bring it up.

Now sanguinaires. That was difficult. Ingrid was aware that they can, at the higher levels, be great manipulators and terribly hard to remove. But Ingrid didn't believe for a second that all sanguinaires were exploiters any more than a slave owner or a bad businessmen who throw people onto ships only to work or die. And that Ash fellow, even if he had knocked me out, admitted the issues."Now I can't say I disagree with expelling the ones connected to the government but eliminating all feels short-sighted. I believe that some are just people trying to survive. Or like that of Ash that seems to be wanting to do good. I think it would be foolish to turn him down when you know who you are up against."

Ash did bring up an interesting concept, who were they? Thinking of the murals in Zaqoria, they presented it as 2 sides, one the sentient creature minus the Eaiko, Meerami, and now Oguraq versus a beastman known as Heart and the Sirrahi. We know the sanguinaires fought against them but the 'them' could either represent something above the sirrahi and the sanguinaires, like the all-knower that Sileen and One talked about briefly. Though Heart did have a negative reaction to it being brought up. Maybe the sides flipped? Those battles were long ago so it was possible.

Ingrid liked the idea of a strong merchant class here, if anything to act as another competing interest against the ruling class. The strength of the military was most likely needed with how they were very expansionist before and to protect themselves from such another insurrection but that was covered by Maura for the most part so she will stay silent and side with her. Feels disgusting even thinking that.

Ingrid let others speak before her because she didn't know much, she had opinions, that's for sure but she had only focused on the personal cost of these people fighting for the country and they have already lost plenty.

Finally, after listening to Maura, Abdel, and Niallus, she suddenly shot her head backward after someone entered from where they came. She sighed in relief that it was Yalen then turned to finally let her opinions know but start by making Maura more aware of what sanguinaire are.

"Maura," Ingrid tried to grab her attention, "Since you seem to be uninformed of sanguinaires, let me. They feed on people. I mean that literally, they suck blood from other people. Now let me preface that they have to do this to survive and they don't need to kill someone though they can. Their vitality is much stronger than the average person's. Though those seem traits are not the thing I believe Wu Long is worried about, No I think his worry is that they can seemingly live forever. And that they can take in the blood of others to empower them greatly over time. Ash could be centuries old and still not have aged. And from my own studies, I believe the Twin Emperors are among the oldest and strongest of them." Ingrid spilled most of what she knew on them, saving some over-specific information. "Granted I didn't know there were sanguinaires, particularly in control of this country, I'm only now aware," Ingrid added to cover herself if the wheeled lady wanted to come after her for knowing things that her peewee brain didn't.

After giving what Ingrid thought was a thorough enough breakdown of sanguinaires, she moved on to magic for the people. "Wu Long I have to agree with you that magic should be returned to the people but I have some concerns." Ingrid paused before continuing, "We have all seen the lack of magic here in common people. Yet I want to put on the table what failing that magic exam could mean for people like Abdel, Yalen, or anyone with a difficult manatype. If you are 'normal' and fail for any number of reasons like social standing, background, or even if the instructor didn't care for you in particular, you can't use magic. But for people like Yalen and Abdel, you might be taken away and stripped of your rights, even killed in some cases." Ingrid wanted to let that sit in for some. It wasn't dissimilar from the refuge she heard about here and there but here they could try and guarantee that change. Wu Long wanted, no, needed the support and they should ask for this.

"While you all were searching for information the night after the first fight, I stayed at the inn. I met with Yin and met Little Yong. Let's just say they spelled it out what it was like to be oppressed, stripped of your magic use. It was hard for them but Yin and her father could manage. But Yong. He undergoing the painful transformation to a powergazer." Ingrid looked at Yalen, "It's why I asked for the pain relievers. That child has done nothing wrong but be born yet his family worries that when the time comes he will be either taken or killed. He is sweet boy who is just as annoying and curious as any other child." Ingrid set her eyes on Wu Long, "How then Wu Long? How do you plan to not only change the system but to fix the people who have been broken by it? The people who were stopped because they didn't meet the exact standard the previous system wanted. The families that have lost children to never see them. The normal people who so desperately believe that magic users are dangerous that even when used to save the lives of multiple should receive punishment."

She let her statements stand there for a few moments, "I'm not asking for you to know everything or even be able to fix it immediately but please. Take them into account or else they will be the reason ReTan breaks for good." That was all Ingrid had to say at the moment.

Ingrid said what she wanted. It wasn't perfect nor eloquent but this was the first time she got to speak her mind with someone of actual importance to Retan as a whole. With the ogauraks safety at hand and someone named Vel Ingrid's straightened herself up, "I'm willing Wu Long."

Ingrid didn't expect Maura not to go but a part of her was relieved. One less person to watch over and one less person to watch out for. The other part though was concerned. The inn was supposed to burn down tonight. A part of Ingrid wanted to let her figure out and barely escape but that's a different level of petty, too petty. No, Maura has connections that could help Yin and her family.

"A quick moment Maura," Ingrid walked towards Maura. She tried not to be intimidating but at the end of the day Maura was tiny and Ingrid was huge. "There's more happening at the inn than you know. Just..." Ingrid paused like it was painful. "Please be kind and generous to them. They need help and I have nothing for them right now." Ingrid made her request, trying to let her guard down and be genuine. It irked her to ask, let alone have to rely on her but she was going to be there and Ingrid wasn't.

The arrival was shocking and Ingrid had been ready to fight but she adjusted quickly as Trypano took the lead. She resigned herself to be a silent background character for now as she believed that Trypano had done a stellar job. Her natural shutter at what Trypano did might have added to the realism of it. Though Ingrid was not sure if it was real or not.

They were given permission to go after them but Ingrid didn't do more than look towards where they should have headed. Just as the lowly background person. She would go when the group did. Though Ingrid can't lie and say that she was concerned for the big fuzzballs that stayed already laid there.

Just as Ingrid told herself, once she saw someone in the group go in she did as well. Especially with it being Yalen. Hell knows no fury like an angry Jocasta.

Ingrid was more than ready for a quick turn in events this time. With Yalen suppressing the watching eyes Ingrid turned to the portal with the white guards. She was originally just going to blast but she had a different, much more Benny idea.

"Backing up!", Ingrid said as she retreated further back. She applied the ghost powder to herself to try and hide herself. A wicked smile appeared as her infinity loop started to ignite. The boom came to her mind. Portal and nuke, a match made in heaven. But distraction is needed.

"Yalen, can you trick them?" Ingrid asked, hoping that he could make it seem one of theirs is charging a nuke.

Cataclysm... Let's destroy them!

Ingrid managed to stay out of the fight as she sneakily charged her spell. No one has gotten majorly injured so she just kept chugging along. Trypano offered her some special concoction and with how things were going Ingrid chugged that vial, "Is this like test 21 at this point?" Ingrid said excitedly.

The viscous liquid clung to her throat. It wasn't just alive but it was like it was moving in Ingrid. She coughed but it don't move. And - Eshi - the texture! She hated it. It was scary, to be honest. She trusted Trypano would give her something mostly safe in a life-or-death battle but she felt like it was pulling her focus. With a Cataclysm building, a moment of lost focus could mean the death of her allies, let alone herself. What the hell is this?!

She could see that Yalen was being aimed at but what could she do in the moment? She had started and committed to this.

Whatever Ingrid had drunk had done little more than make this the riskiest spell she had ever casted. Her focus seemed to wane with the slightest distraction. Not the ideal situation to be casting what is considered the strongest spell in atomic. Even with the difficulties, Ingrid prevailed.

Not that there wasn't any other option... Golden Monkey was merely toying with them. The White Guard were numerous and if it wasn't for the lack of available energy would destroy us. Ingrid could see her lover and friends getting demolished but couldn't even do anything in her state. She misjudged it.

Her hope to end the fight neatly with an atomic blast was misguided. It limited her too much and left her teammates without an ally. One that could've limited the Black Guard. She cursed her shortsightedness and it seemed her judgement came to reap.

A sudden pulse ran through her body. Her eyes dropped and her body fell. That damn Vial! It sapped the energy out of her. Like she had exerted herself too much. Ingrid and her mana strained to keep conscious and in control of her own magic and that's when she saw it. The White Guard has finally noticed her. The spell was near completion and they had noticed.

Barely able to maintain focus, consciousness, and control, Ingrid prepared for what was most likely the end of her ill-conceived plan. If the worst comes then I need to at least get away from my allies.

The tides of battle continued to crash against Ingrid and her teammates. She had grown accustomed to the curse the vial gifted her. At the same time, its strength radiated in her, an odd feeling to say the least. But the tides still shifted, her spell had still gone unnoticed by the hoard of skilled White Guard and no one laid unconscious on the floor. Yet people were at their limit.

But like a lightning bolt, Vel and Rikard joined together to strike Golden Monkey. It actually hurt him. The being that they had been only recently able to perceive was done a wound. Ingrid filled with a sudden burst of glee, Yes Rikard! We can do this! It was a bright moment in what could only be described as a slow defeat before.

But that was a façade. He had been toying with us still. Even after our strongest attempts, we were nothing more than paltry entertainment. He showed us. He showed us what true power was. A spell Ingrid had never even heard of, so far into the mastery of Arcane that it shined just as bright as Lor itself and it held more power than any Detonation she had casted before.

There was no wind-up, just pure unadulterated power. And it came at Ingrid. She had proven herself just strong enough to get the attention of another monster. The Eskandish mercenary on her first mission that slew VVysen. the Demon that rained blood on the world, and now the Black Guard, Golden Monkey, that she can only compare to Lor. She faltered.

She panicked, her composure was compromised in front of such overwhelming force. Her mana couldn't do all that she wanted. Control the nuke, defend, run, hide. They couldn't do it all so They did none. Everything or nothing. But her teammates had not missed a beat.

Kaureerah miraculously held him in place with some kind of illusion and kinetic magic. Rikard tore the air apart one more and struck like the legends of Sweyn Thunderspear. But it still wasn't enough he still had more than anything Ingrid could muster at her best.

And there they were, Niallus and Trypano. Her lover sent an Arcane blast to fend him off until Trypano conjured a wall of flesh to block his path, stopping him fully. Ingrid had failed but her teammates, the ones that matter most to her here, they lifted her up. They created the room she needed to make that initial mistake into a chance. And then when Wu Long appeared.

The opportunity to strike was now and Ingrid made haste. She hurled it to the portal as the Exemplar sent the Black Guard towards the portal. Ingrid had remembered that Lucky Dragon resided on the other side. Nor forgotten what her rumored powers were, Please Reshta, I know you love her but if you could love me just a little more. Please Penny. Ingrid launched it with all the force she could muster.

She shouted out, "Please! Slow him down even if it is a moment!" Ingrid pleaded with her battered allies to pull out the last bit of energy they had and work through the pain. "Make this worth something," Ingrid muttered a small prayer

But Reshta isn't just about luck. If you make something more likely, Reshta will favor it. Ingrid wasn't sure how exactly Lucky Dragons ability worked and honestly there were a few other abilities being used here that stumped her. Vel in either a moment of bloodlust or stupidity, put a bomb behind Golden Monkey. And he rolled off of it. The Cataclysm was going to collide inside the cave.

What would have been instant death was prolonged by some temporal, who's I'm not sure but thank Oraff for them. People rushed to the portal, Ingrid being one of them. However an unknown speed resided in her. Fast enough to get not only herself but Trypano out as well. Everyone had made it out, Skugs included.

There was no moment of relief for Ingrid as she held Niallus in her arms. He never left Ingrid's sight. Every wound she saw and gasped at, knowing she couldn't help him. Tears fell as she used her binding to try and patch him up. What composure Ingrid had shown vanished when she saw her lover injured so severely.

Niallus was of course fine after some healing, nothing permanent was done. Ingrid weakly joked about his collarbone breaking again. But underneath it all, a growing feeling had taken hold. We failed to take down one as a group, what about 10 of them? It was laughable to think we could do more. Ingrid held it in for now, this wasn't the place to talk about it.

Esmii'nesta'tawaar

Esmii and the rest of the group decided that they wanted to have a look around a multi-floor shopping area. Have a look at some of the shops names they decide where they want to go. Giving a quick kiss to Sven, Esmii went towards the shop named "Last Leg." She didn't go alone as Roslyn accompanied her. There were a few items that piqued Esmii's interest, the binding bandages. It also seemed Roslyn was interested in them too. The two ladies easily came to an agreement by sharing them since there were ten of them. So they took five each. Esmii and Roslyn seemed to enjoy their time together shopping, and should do it again another time. Roslyn walked off to another shop, wanting to buy other things.

Esmii thought that there would be more of a crowd in the shopping area, but there wasn't. She walks into a shop called Seas Bounty. While looking at the merch that was on sale. To Esmii, there were a few pretty things for her to pick from. But there were these Seasilk wizard gloves. After an unsuccessful attempt to pay less, she bought them at their regular price. Once bought, Esmii put the gloves on, and the inside felt really soft and comfortable. However Esmii felt a little more powerful while wearing them, not a huge boost but it was noticeable. With another item bought. Esmii made her way upstairs to the second floor. She wondered how the other ones were doing and was curious if they bought anything.

Climbing the stairs to the second floor. Atop one of the shops named Dragons Fyre, was a dragon. Esmii noticed the beautiful creature, she immediately wanted to buy it, if it was for sale. Running inside the shop she went to a merchant asking about the dragon on the roof. They said it was a Harlequin Kite that was missing one leg, and would be very attached to its owner. This didn't matter to her. The merchant was a little reluctant to sell it, but Esmii somehow managed to persuade them to sell it, at a discount. They even offered her a piece of Jerky at a discount to try and help her train it better. Walking back out with the jerky, she met up with her boyfriend. "Hi sweetie, I got a pet dragon." pointing up to the Kite. "I'm gonna feed it this jerky, hopefully it'll like me." Sven was a little worried about her, so he stayed nearby.

Getting the Kite's attention was easy after it caught the smell of the jerky. It hopped off the roof of the shop landing in front of Esmii. "What a beautiful creature you are." Esmii said admiring its green skin, its glorious rainbow wings. Holding the jerky up to it, "It's ok, I'm not going to hurt you." as if it'd be able to understand her. The Kite dragon slowly approached her unsure about her, now close enough Esmii could feel it's the air coming from its nose as it sniffed the jerky. Sven was on the edge, praying that it wouldn't attack her. That didn't happen, the dragon started to grab the jerky in its mouth, trying not to bite Esmii. Once it had hold of it, Esmii let go of it, and the dragon devoured it. Esmii smiled while Sven sighed in relief. Esmii tried her luck more, slowly, she placed a hand on the dragon face to pet it. It was curious about her intentions at first but the dragon moved its head under her hand. Then it seemed it wanted to test her, so it lowered its body so she could hop on it for a ride. Esmii lifted a leg over the dragon's body. She sat perfectly on its body. Then not giving her time to prepare, the dragon took to the sky….

Seems that Reshta wanted to test Esmii, to see if she was worthy to ride her. So she flew straight up, when that wasn't enough she tried diving, sharp turns. Luckily for Esmii, it seems that she was that high up she wasn't under the effects of what was suppressing magic, so in a panic, she drew as fast as she could. Using binding magic, she was able to make a harness for herself so Reshta couldn't throw her off. "Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. Esmii screamed while on this thrill ride.

After several minutes of trying to throw Esmii off her, it seemed that she was worthy, so she started to fly normally. Once Esmii was able to calm herself, she managed to get a great view of the surrounding area. There was a particularly large and dense pile of rubble within the collapse.
Some trickles of smoke from the ground above where the monastery is dug into the cliffs, she spotted things that looked like ventilation shafts.
Some miles to the south, she see a camp with a number of figures in it.
Just a bit to the east of town will be a second camp. She saw something she recognized, it the Royal Standard of Vossoriya on one of the tents, indicating that they're working for the monarchy.
As Reshta swooped low over the town at one point, just a bit west of the collapse, you'll notice a hegelan boy waving at you from within a blacksmith's shop. It's not clear if he's just waving because the dragon or he's trying to get your attention. "I'll have to let the others know what I've seen up here. It could be a clue to help us find Marz." It seemed that Reshta was done flying for now as she made her way back to the shops. The landing wasn't the greatest. Esmii was thrown off from the landing and landed on her butt. "Ow…" after a few seconds she got up, rubbing her backside. Reshta nuzzled Esmii's face with her head then flew back onto the Dragon Frye roof, as if she'll wait here until Esmii is done or it still wasn't sure about her and this could be another test. "I won't be too long, you stay here for now.

Arriving on the Third floor, Esmii had no idea where to go next, so she had a look in Better Bedding. There were a lot of nice and pretty thing available for her. Bit the one that caught her eye was something known as the indomitable quilt, it was very soft and comfortable. "Ooh, this is nice. Excuse me, I'd like to buy this." Once purchased, she wondered if there was some way that she could style it into a cloak of some sort, but she'll save that for another time.

Starting to feel a bit bored she made her way back to the second floor to collect Reshta, and together they made their way back to the first floor. Esmii decided to go back into the Seas Bounty, to see if any of her companions were here, sadly they weren't, so she decided to buy some other things while she was there. Three Barnacles she bought, when she left the shop, Esmii opened them. Inside of them was a Mana shot, a bottle of scented wildflower and a magical wand. Happy with the stuff she has she slowly walked with Reshta to find the others.

Taleja moved away from the group, heading towards the window located in the far corner of the hall. They had sought refuge in the battered church, seeking solace from the growing chorus of howls that surrounded them. The eerie sound sent shivers down the spines of all who heard it.

With a surge of energy crackling around her fingertips, Taleja extended her hand towards the window frame. Instead of opting for the conventional methods the others were employing, she summoned ethereal threads that swirled and weaved together in intricate patterns reminiscent of a spider's web. With precise movements, she directed the threads to encase the window in a web of magical bindings. The threads tightened, creating a translucent barrier that fortified the glass and provided protection against the impending assault.

Taking out a vial of skuggvar venom, Taleja carefully coated the threads, ensuring a nasty surprise for any creature that dared to enter through this particular window.

"One down," she muttered, a sense of accomplishment in her voice.

---

The wolves lunged toward the windows and doorway, their snarling jaws dripping with saliva, Ashon leapt into action. He wielded his gnarled stick like a seasoned warrior. Each strike connected with precision, as each powerful blow sent the wolves reeling.

He used his foresight to anticipate the next wave of attack, and using his stick as an extension of his body, he blocked their frenzied attacked and countered with swift strikes. The sound of wood battering fur echoed through the room as he fought to keep them at bay.

With each swing, he aimed to incapacitate rather than kill, knocking the creatures unconscious with well-placed strikes. His movements were fluid and graceful, as he ducked and weaved between them. His actions flowed like water as he skilfully manoeuvred between them, creating a defensive barrier as he was determined to buy time for his friends as they scrambled to secure the windows, and hammering the boards into place with urgency.

As the others joined the fight, it became evident that they had different priorities. The distinct ring of the Blunderbuss echoed through the air as Taleja aimed for headshots, causing the creatures to recoil in bloody terror. Any that fell were swiftly and ruthlessly silenced. Her green eyes flickered up towards Ashon, a grim expression on her face. "They were already dead." Meanwhile, Kaspar summoned a demon, and the blood began to flow like paint, staining the walls of the church.

---

Cannons thundered as the church was relentlessly bombarded, and Constable Leonhardt, now a corrupted and unrecognizable being, unleashed unholy wildblood forces, laying waste to the unlikely alliance of humans and demons within the church. Wave after wave of enemies assaulted them, testing their resilience and taking a toll on their vitality. In the face of this relentless onslaught, they fought on, enduring injuries and making sacrifices.

Amidst the chaos, they sought to create a window of opportunity. Leonhardt bellowed orders in a guttural tongue, swinging his giant axe with terrifying force. Through their painstaking efforts, Ashon and Taleja seized the moment, their plan taking shape. Ashon skilfully manoeuvred through the wolves, deftly evading their attacks, while Taleja charged her attack from a strategic position. With precise timing, Ashon leaped into the air, drawing the attention of all, and brought his strike down upon Leonhardt. Yet, in an instant, he vanished, leaving Leonhardt momentarily confused.

Exploiting this opening, Taleja unleashed her devastating attack. With a focused determination, she released a powerful conical blast of radiation known as the Field of Fire towards Leonhardt. The intense radiation melted his flesh, causing him to roar in agony. Despite his corrupted manas attempting to heal the injury, his efforts were in vain. Sensing an opportunity, Ashon swiftly struck from behind, driving his gnarled stick into his chest. As his eyes met his final moments, witnessing his pulsating heart beat a good foot in front of him, he watched as it ignited, consumed by the intense radiation. His roar turned into a death cry, signalling the end of the foul, corrupted being.

It is at this opportunity that a trap door opened, and whilst the frenzied horde began to break down into a disorganized mess, the students and their allies used the opportunity to make their escape.

---

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