Stepping through the portal that was made for him and Esmii, both people came from the latter's new castle of Desta'Lovox. The temperature soared after a few minutes of being there, and with the portal closed there was no going back for now. A foul stench was in the air, making the Eskandish man cover his nose with his hand. "Gud, det er en moden lukt!" He complained.

Adjusting to the smell of colour for a few moments, he took his hand magic from his nose. Hearing Esmii say goodbye to him and walking off, he gave a smile and a nod. Once he parted ways with Esmii, he knew she'd be fine here. She's a smart one, plus she'd know her way around this area. After a few steps, he ended up stepping on a branch, causing it to snap. The noise of the snapped branch echoed throughout the area he was in, instead of birds flying away spooked by the noise that was created. Instead, there was nothing. That was rather unnatural. Once the sound of snapping foliage faded nothing else, no insects or birds, could thus be the work of that beast.

While walking through this eerie swamp. He thought of that old saying about if a tree falls, does it make a sound? Hor's mind still went back to what happened at Desta'Lovox, with how Johann acted. But that thought quickly left as he heard noises; following the noises, it led to the old ruins. He scanned the area as he walked to ruins where a man was digging through some rubble. Curious by this, Niallus walked up to the person carefully, so as not to startle him. "Excuse me?" He said as he approached. "Are you from around the area?"

||Gods, That's a ripe smell||

The ruins were mostly destroyed houses, stacked on each other with most of the wood decayed into muck. The stone was made for usable, small isles if one could get over the excessive lack of friction from the moss-like surface.

A man was moving the rubble, partially helping with the gift, but he was meticulous with his work. He was looking for something and was careful about it.

The man was a Yasoi, and once Niallus addressed him he looked the Eskandish youth's way. “Yes.” he answered plainly, turquoise eyes surrounded by massive black circles. The man hadn't slept for a long time. Then, he continued digging through the rubble. But unlike the wandering crone, his movements had a purpose that kept him moving despite clear exhaustion. “No panuu. No panuu.” he grunted from under a half-decomposed roof to Niallus. “No panuu here.”

Niallus walked closer to the man as he dug, using his gift to move rubble away. As he looked in Niallus' direction speaking about there being no treasure here. Niallus could see he had clear signs of insomnia; how many days had this guy been digging without rest? In this state, Niallus might need to be careful; in this exhausted state, he could lash out at him. He inspected some of the rubble of ruins that was on the path to the man digging.

"What are you looking for? Perhaps I can help you." He asked as he walked to him.

Niallus' request was met with grunts of both exertion and what were supposed to be mumbles. The man barely understood Avincian, and yet here was this human speaking in tongues. The man tunnel-visioned his work.

Then, a sudden ripple ran through the water, and the land shook ever so slightly. Barely noticeable. And yet, it was enough for the stone foundation he was digging under to falter very fast, just about ready to fall over the man. In his exhausted state, he didn't seem to even notice this phenomenon.

Niallus paused for a moment, *Perhaps he doesn't understand Avincian. Or were they more focused on digging?* Niallus wondered as he got closer to the Yasoi, still ever focused on digging in this one spot.

"A’lash, Juup joi wasel-" His sentence was cut short by a ripple that rumbled the area around him, "What was that?" I Looked around to find the origin of that rumble, but with it being so faint, it was likely from a distance. His gaze shifted towards the frail structure that the man was digging and began to fall, possibly because of the low rumble. Niallus dashed towards him, attempting to save the man from being crushed by the falling debris. Using his Kinetic magic in an attempt to move him out of the way and then destroy the fallen debris.

||Excuse me, do you need||

Niallus' assumption of being away from anything relevant was, unfortunately, quite wrong. The epicentre of this brief rumbling was none other than the middle of the fetid pond. A statue had been uprooted and left to drop, although the seismic activity had likely something to do with what it had been rooted to. And thus came down the fragile foundation of a ruin, with the tired man nearly biting it. Luckily, Niallus was around.

That said, he had little time to react and the weight was still considerable. The young man struggled to keep the pile he had to improvise support for. Fortunately, he did save the digger from a very likely death. But now he had to extract the dazed man from under the rubble barely fully supported. He could shove all the rubble in one, rough shove to the side. A noisy approach, one that'd be as conspicuous as Ingrid's statue moving. Or, he could try to tug the man out at the risk of having the foundation crumble and fall from lack of proper support, likely killing the man and hurting himself in the process.

Sven was at a full run and full draw, unbinding the water in front of him as he went and solidified the ground. Despite his massive capacity, it was, to put matters simply, exhausting.

He was too late to save Esmii from her misadventure, but then Ingrid did what he'd wanted to do and popped the statue up. Bad idea.

The ruins around Niallus and the old man he'd been trying to speak to collapsed suddenly and violently, the Eskandishman barely saving the latter (and himself) from being crushed.

Sven rushed over, throwing caution to the wind and unbinding - instead of the water around himself - the ruins themselves. "Hang on Shaberhagen!" he shouted. "I've got you!

He didn't have time to properly move the man from being crushed, so he acted as best he could. Even holding the rubble was no easy task, even with his Kinetic the sheer weight of all that stone was taking its toll on the young Eskandishman. He thought about pushing it up with a kinetic blast. For him to grab the old man and jump before it comes back. That would require split-second timing. "Tiin. senii." Niallus shouted to the old man, but he didn't respond to his words. Niallus could not help but curse under his breath. He was running out of time and options.

He heard a familiar voice, followed by a familiar figure running towards him. "Sven?" A mixture of confusion, surprise and relief was in his tone when mentioning his friend's name. "How did you get here?" He said to his kinsmen. His focus faulted, the weight getting more intense. "I can hold this for a bit longer. Can you grab him, get him out of the way?" He asked his friend.

---

With the help of Sven, Niallus was able to get the sluggish Yasoi man out of danger, but not without fumbling. The bigger Eskandishman was also not exactly the fastest either, leading to the whole group being caught in a massive splash of swamp goop. Harmless, if they didn’t swallow, although it left a blinding cloud of green smoke around them. They could hardly see each other.

What they did see, however, were long, tentacle-like shapes emerging all around them. Much taller than these young men, at least double their height, and about half the width of the burly Sven. They undulated and writhed, before bending closer to their prey.

Then, the shriek happened, prompting the appendages to lash out!

After the two Eskandishmen helped the Yasoi and themselves. The trio found this in swamp fog "Fra gryten, inn i ilden." Niallus said. On instinct, Niallus tried not to breathe so much of the gas in case it proved fatal. He could barely see Sven and the old Yasoi. It was then he saw the extremely hostile danger; two vines attempted to attack him. He focused with a deep breath, and with some help from one of his divine fruits, the vines charged at Niallus; he kept focus as he avoided the vine's attempt at grabbing him. *I have to keep focused.* He thought.

With the two vines' attacks avoided with ease, he was free to help the other two if they needed him. He had both Sven and the old Yasoi not too far from him and his sensing range. He didn't know what the vines were going to do. Regardless he was ready to help them from being attacked.

||From the pot, into the fire.||

There was no magic quick-acting enough here except for the very blunt, of which Sven had only Atomic, which he could not use for the presence of Niallus and this old man. Easily, he might've swept the entire tangle of vines away, but he'd likely have killed or maimed them in the process. He might've used internal chemical magic on a known foe, but he still lacked even the slightest understanding of how this foe worked, much less what might effectively slow, wither, or kill it.

Cursing inwardly, the Eskandishman scrambled back, using the energy from the water - And some very alarming chemical compounds - he'd unbound to power his magic.

Massive and unskilled, a rush of air blasted through the unnatural haze and a series of small, pinpoint explosions - much more skilled - blasted at the thick vines. It was the best that Sven could do robbed of his major offensive weapons. "Get down and out of the way!" he shouted as he did it, hoping that the others would listen.

Sven didn't even see it. Vaguely, in the mists, which he had failed to clear, the man was stabbed repeatedly and Sven could feel his chemical composition changing. The entire scene was changing, fast becoming desperate.

This was an unholy place and the poor fellow was, simply put, as good as dead or... something worse. He'd noticed how an old woman had chopped off her hand and how others had bound theirs so anxiously. Sven knew the rational thing to do. He should let these poor souls die. Nay, he should speed them on their way. lest they become a liability or be turned against him and his allies. Yet, to do so would be to let cruelty and evil win. It would be to betray his oaths as a jarl of Eskand, even if these were not his lands. It would be a betrayal of the responsibility that the Gods had set upon his shoulders. "If you can clear the vines, I can shave him," Sven promised in a voicece that was not quite determined, not quite resigned. Esmii's 'loyal subjects' had sent her here!? He shook his head. "We musht hurry before the bog claimsh him."

Niallus didn't expect his kinsman to use an AOE attack. Then again his beloved could be in danger, so it's likely he's not wanting to waste time. Looking at the body in the water. He was alive, but barely. What was he digging here for.?Pehaps the person lived in these ruins. Perhaps he had family that lived there; perhaps they lived in the ruins where he was digging. Relying on his own drive to keep digging. A man who lost everything and had nothing to love for maybe?

The body slowly drifted out further and further then began to sink. It was then Sven jumped into action hearing "You're right, but we'll need to act fast if we want to pull him out.". With that, Niallus drew kinetic energy, allowing him to walk on the surface of the water, and with Arcane to make an Arcane sword, he proceeded to cut and clear the other vines away to make a straight path. [color=3d5a88]"I'm glad that you came when you did. He said to Sven as he cleared the vines away.

The Eskandishman fought through the resisting plant life to rescue what looked to be a deadman. Hadric, the blacksmith, accepted that he would see his family in the next world upon failing to find them in this mortal life. And yet a house of all people fought tooth and nail for his safety. If he could, he would have spared the boy the trouble, and yet he wasn’t even capable of talking.

With one swing of his Arcane sword, a vine was cleaved away, the vine burnt and crisp from where Niallus' magic sliced through it. After the vines were cleared. Niallus broke the enchantment of his sword, and it faded into nothing. "That looks like the last of them." He returned to the shore, briefly scanning the landscape. "We need to find a flat area so we can lie him down." Niallus said. "He's not going to last long with those injuries." as he glanced back at the old man.

A blood-curdling screech erupted from the abomination. Its massive and blood maw was fully agape and its mere scream caused the waters to undulate as if the bog was an ocean. With one meal finished, it set eyes on its next fix. One was standing upon a shattered church, one of the few structures made of stone, two others stood near its frozen appendage. And further beyond, it saw two Yasoi barely making it out of its territory.

Seeing a huge tidal wave coming towards them, they didn't have time to move Hadric as Sven was getting ready to heal him enough to stand. Niallus acted. Standing between his friend and the Yasoi and the Tidal wave that was rapidly approaching. He drew in manas enforcing the area around them. "Not enough." He said, with that, he embraced the power of the void. Void energy rippled along the thin, but durable layer of Kinetic energy.

The wave crashed against the barrier. The weight of the water and the debris that was inside it was enough for small amounts of water, stones and wood to slip through and injure the Eskandr, but he kept up his defensive spell. "Come on, hold." He shouted.

Sven, meanwhile, was far more interested in healing than he was hitting back. He and Niallus had set out to save a man and had now nearly let him die. Sven staggered ashore and dumped his charge on the muddy ground as gently as he could, chest heaving. The contamination was spreading and he doubted that he could heal it with binding.

"Cover me," he shouted in Niallus' direction, [color=385403]"I'm going to try shomething!"[/colour He settled himself as much as one could be given the circumstances. He breathed. Just don't die on me now, he thought at the gravely wounded yasoi. Gathering his energy, he split matter and drew out the reaction. Targeting the hotspots of the contamination, he bombarded them with radiation, frying the alien substance out of the man's system. Sven wasn't sure how long it took or what was happening until Niallus was shouting at him, and he twisted just in time to see a wall of sickly water rushing at him. It was all that the Eskandishman could do to shield the frail and still-healing Yasoi from it.

The wave took Sven from behind and hammered him facefirst into the muck. He swallowed the foul water and ate dirt, slamming his head and shoulder on a sharp rock. For a moment, the edges of his vision greyed and he very nearly didn't come back up. Then, a series of screams pierced the hazy veil: it was Esmii. She was in trouble. She needed him. That was why he was here. Sven broke the surface, dazed, bleeding and vomiting into the morass even as it retreated. He staggered and nearly collapsed. "Go," he panted desperately at the man he and Niallus had saved. [color=385403]"Crawl, stumble, run if you can."[/colour] He thought of the yasoi word. "Yash!" he entreated. "Yash!"

---

After surviving the tidal wave, they only suffered minor injuries. It was at that moment he was under attack once more. A portal opens up directly above "Oh, come on." rubble and other things came through attempting to bury the Eskandishman.

Niallus drew in manas, opening his mouth slightly a faint orange glow emitting from it. Combining Chemical to his upcoming Arcane. He inhaled before unleashing his built-upon in a magnificent breath attack, hoping to incinerate the debris. The incinerator method seemed to work for a while, however, a sharp piece of debris stabbed him in his shoulder. The sharp pain he felt, made him break his concentration and caused him to stop casting his breath attack. With no offence, a stone struck him in the face, bringing him to one knee, and then he got a barraging assault upon him, burying him under all the rubble.

It wasn't long before Niallus dug himself out, he coughed up some mud that he swallowed, wiping his mouth with his arm. Having sensed what was around him. Someone's manas was faint as if they were in danger. It was Esmii."Sven, your beloved is in trouble." He said to his countryman. Following what Hadric mentioned to Niallus and Sven. Niallus made his way back to the ruins, from where he and Sven rescued Hadric. It didn't take him long to get across the landscape back to the ruins. He looked around the ruins, trying to find the tallest, stable ruin that he could stand on.

Once he stood on top of the tall ruins, he could get somewhat of a view of the swamp, and in the distance, he could see the monster. There was the one question: How was he going to lure it towards him? From looking at it from a distance, it seemed to be a powerful predator. It'll likely come if it smells something that's weakened or injured. That was it. If he could get it to smell the blood of a freshly injured target, it could come over. But there was nothing for him to use, but himself. This was foolish, but it could be effective.
He groaned at this idea. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." He mumbled to himself. He pulled a knife out from the side of his boot and drew manas his plan to cut the palm of his hand, then use Chemical to increase to potency of the smell of his blood and use Kinetic to create a breeze to carry the scent of his wound to the monster in an attempt it to bring it over.

---

The monster carved its way to the Eskandishman. No longer limited by damaged limbs or glue, it took in the energy from the dispelled stasis assault on it and the stockpile its appendages deep underground, causing them to momentarily go inert, had taken during its stay to perform a mighty leap.

The seismic aftershock was felt massively by those close by, and a mighty shadow would be cast upon the group. The large monster then descended onto Niallus like an arrow, fast and accurate. The subsequent impact prompted a ripple - or rather a massive circle-shaped wave, this time with an immense amount of rubble to go with it.

Meanwhile, Hadric had found his shed. What was he planning?

Stood on top of the ruin, it seemed that his plan to bring the monster to him seemed to work, almost a little too well. Seeing it first hand, charge then leap into the air in an attempt crush him. It moved so agile for something of its size. Niallus almost didn't have time to plan. Drawing in his manas, he needed something strong to hit this thing. Summoning an Arcane Lance ready, he knew it wouldn't be enough to stop the creatures divebomb. With some focus he channeled the power into the VOID into his lance. He didn't have time to properly charge, so instead wmhe increased his throwing capability by using Kinetic. The lance shot up after the target it made contact, but it only halted it's momentum. Noticing this Niallus jumped down from where he was stood he didn't have.

---

The fight broke out between the students of Ersand'Enise and the monster, Niallus wanted to jump right into the fight. He was held back by his friend Sven. Insisting that Niallus should be healed from the ailment that was affecting him. Niallus didn't argue with him, accepting his friend's help. Sven's magic flooded Niallus' system, eventually curing him of what was in his system; it probably would be best not to get hit or infected by that thing again.

The battle continued, seeing that Esmii was in danger as she was being targeted. Niallus defended her. Using magics of Kinetic and Arcane to help, but it only left him as a target, as once he defended Esmii. He became a target, and the monster began an onslaught.

The monster grabbed Niallus's leg, wrapping a bone around it, causing the Eskand to lose his balance and be lifted off the murky ground. Once off the ground, the monster slammed Niallus into the ground as if it were hitting a drum. One impact, two impacts. Over and over. Each impact to the ground leaves an echoing sound of Niallus hitting stone or water.

After it was done it threw Niallus to one side. Niallus rolled a bit before coming to a stop. Part of his body was submerged in swamp water. His vision was blurry and disoriented. Heavy wheezes escaped his bloody lips. Some of his ribs were most likely broken or shattered; more likely, a few other bones were broken, and an organ ruptured.

Two sets of footsteps were approaching him. It was Esmii and Sven. He turned his head as they approached . "Sven, Esmii when you start a family. Can you name your firstborn after me?" he mused, his voice was weak and shallow. Esmii trying to help Niallus. "Shh, quiet now, save your strength. "This monster shall die before you, bro." Sven gritted his teeth. "Long before."

Niallus felt his body slowly begin to be reconstructed under the influence of Esmiis's magic. She must have put more power into it as his body began to heal rapidly. It took some time for him to get to his feet. His legs were wobbly, but once he was up, he swayed ever so slightly.

After a few moments of him getting back into the fight. Niallus saw Ingrid hit by a dark bolt, then she was gone. Ingrid! he shouted, his arm extended in the direction he last saw her. His eyes followed the person who did it. It was Xiuyang. A fury burst from Niallus, Manas surging to his command. An arcane lance burst to life. And he threw it at Xiuyang without hesitation. Shortly after he threw it, she faded away, and his lance missed as it sailed off into the distance.

At that moment the monster used this opportunity to attack Niallus while he was distracted. A vine raced towards him striking him in the chest, impaling him. There was a small amount of pain that was overcome by numbness. Niallus coughed blood, his hand loosened the grip on his Arcane sword, eventually letting go. His mana couldn't contain itself, and the magical sword faded away. There was more; he felt something invading his system. Was it the thing that he had before that Sven cured? The vine slowly pulled itself out of his chest, his breathing became weaker and weaker, and eventually, he collapsed backwards.

---

*Thump, Thump*
*Thump, Thump*

The only sound that Niallus could hear was his heartbeat. Not even the noises of what was happening around him. Not even people's voices. Perhaps the fight had moved to a different location, or perhaps he got moved. This void was all that remained.

The last thing that he saw, that he felt was the vines impaling him. Niallus felt sheer agony as the vines spread poison all over his entire body.

There were more muffled noises this time, but this one managed to break through; he could hear this loud and clear. Hearing another sound echo through the air. He knew this. It was a gunshot. Perhaps Desmond was opening fire on the monster.

Goosebumps began to crawl over his skin. Was it his body warning him that he was in danger? It was likely that he didn't have long to act, so he did. His eyes opened, and with a burst of energy, he rose to his feet. Time was short, the adrenaline that he was feeling from this sensation, time seemed to wrap around him.

Using Kinetic he lifted a good amount of water around his person and then held it in place. Adding Chemical to the water, in the mad attempt to make the suspended water around him into a gelatinous substance. It wouldn't be enough, to stop a bullet. He needed it to be stronger. In an attempt to increase the density of the gelatine, a sharp pain erupted from his body. He had been through so much already, and he was pushing it to its limit. This forceful push made him lose focus causing it to waver. However, it was too late.

It was not Edyta's job to heal. That was for the Dordians and, yet, she had been trained as a healer. Healers took an oath. She knew little of Niallus. He was Eskandish. He was brash and bold and she'd heard tell that he dabbled in Dark Magic. Perhaps this was his comeuppance. Perhaps Mother Oraff now called to him, but Edyta did not think so. Cawuio-Zast had been a wicked man, through and through. Niallus was just a young and handsome fool.

Nobody had ever accused Edyta of being sentimental except, jokingly, dear Tommy. Was it an excess of sentimentality that drove her Niallus' way? Was it an excess of sentimentality that caused her to lower her guard and, in the middle of battle, prioritize the life of another - a lesser weapon - over her own?

Was it an excess of sentimentality that caused her to miss the bullet hurtling towards her - it had come from nowhere, hadn't it!?

"Niallus," she breathed, "Be still, stay awake. I will heal you." She was just reaching out to do so when it hit. So much natural instinct had been drilled into a nine-year-old girl that a seventeen-year-old one dodged instinctively and with uncanny speed, but it was not enough. The bullet hit and, before her mind could even process it, her body knew that it had been struck. It was not fatal. It wouldn't be fatal, but... the blood was barely visible as it stained the red robes below her right shoulder. She bit back a cry of pain, not willing to be a liability to the others, and gritted her teeth.

They say that the fond moments of your life meld together one last time before you pass. That was true. Laid in the waters his head just out of the water to breathe, which wasn't doing much for the young Eskandishman. His chest hardly moved, his breathing was weak and wheezy. His mind gave him fond memories of the people who were important to him. Hearing the sound of footsteps approaching him brought him out of his trance. A part of him guessed that the person who was approaching him was Hjem, the Eskandr Warden of Food, Drink and Parental Love. Was she here to collect his wayward soul?

The person came next to him, his vision was so blurred that he could only make out an outline of them. Hearing their voice, It was Edyta Laska. He didn't have much of an opinion of her. Sure they spent time in various encounters. He respected her as a person. Seeing the figure jerk in pain was an indication that she was shot too. He tried to speak, but all that came out was just a weak wheeze. He wanted to get up, he wanted to help, but his body didn't respond.

Niallus had regained consciousness some time. Unfortunately, his body was still unable to move, so he couldn't do anything but watch. Nonetheless, he was glad to be alive, thanks to Laska. He was able to look at the others and what was unfolding among them. Move damn it. He thought as he tried to move, but nothing happened. He spotted the flash of light, then the other that was a person moving to finish Desmond. "Laska... come closer." Once close, Niallus whispered "Attack the one that's closing in on Desmond, but you'll need to catch it off guard." then gave her a little nod.

Edyta could feel the life dripping out of her body: a sacrifice to Mother Eshiran, willingly given, as were all things. What a stupid thing. She could've dropped. She'd have been between words and safe.

Niallus would've died.

She didn't even know him and, from what she'd heard, he was a man of inconstant character, prone to pride and anger, eager to dabble in the dark magics that brought much more pain to the world than good. Jełop! She coughed. Stupid. Trying to be a hero. You're not a hero.

---

Greyspace
He had been about to die - if he was not already dead - and she had saved him. Edyta had grabbed Niallus' hand and disappeared into greyspace. Is it a sin to serve two masters? She could not know and she did not have time to ruminate on it. Ahn-Eshiran and Oraff-Zept were both among the Pentad, so surely they could not exist in opposition to each other. Surely, helping the one wasn't necessarily slighting the other. Edyta did not want to break her oath. Oaths were what kept the world bound in civilization, Father Bartek had once told her with a pained face, as if he were not sure that he believed it.

She did not have time to ruminate on it.

Niallus was... conscious, in a sense. She could feel it in his hand as she held it. She spared a glance his way as they moved through the shadows of spaces. They moved and she navigated as only she knew, as she had been doing for almost ten years.

Then, she stopped. Beneath her feet was mud. There was nearly dried mud, with a hint of red clay soil, and she knew it. There was a scent as well, and her very sense of reality prickled at it: apple and pear blossoms, in Stresia, by the creek in Bynowice. She shook her head to clear it, but how vivid it was. She shook her head. "...Niallus." He was coming to. She could ask him if he felt the dirt or smelled the flowers; she could ask him and be sure.

But she could not.

If they weren't real, he would think that she was crazy. Perhaps it was a trick of the demon she had sensed, but... The last time that she had seen dear Father Bartek, when they had spoken at length of mundane things, he had asked her if she was 'seeing' yet. She hadn't known or understood. He'd merely nodded and looked lonely for a minute. "Well, you'll see sooner or later," he'd told her, "we all do. Speak to me immediately once that happens." She'd been unsettled. She'd thought him mad, but perhaps this was what he'd meant.

Then, there was a voice humming and she knew it too: her sister Marta, and the tune was Oj chmielu, the wedding song. It was Marta and Edyta had not seen her in seven years, not since that one Caldores when she'd been back with her new husband and son and the young Rezaindian had been given leave to see her family. Marta, who'd raised her almost like a second mother. How her heart ached for Marta and she wondered if she might hear Piotr, and Jacek, and Joanna.

Niallus was heavy, even though her magic was moving him. Then, he twitched. "Niallus," she entreated, "Are you okay?"

He'll think you're mad.

No he won't. It's a simple question!

"Did you hear something?"

Soon, they could leave. Soon. They could return to the real world and face whatever awaited them there. Perhaps the others needed their help, it occurred to Edyta. Perhaps they should go back this very moment, but Niallus was still only just beginning to move and, on some level, she did not want to.

Niallus was starting to come too. His muscles tensed and then relaxed as he was starting to move. The hand that was holding Laskas gave her a little squeeze. Upon waking up properly, the first thing he saw was Laska. The last thing that he remembered seeing was a bright flash from the beginning of the storm. "I'm fine. Thank you." He said, smiling at her.

For a moment he tilted his head raising an eyebrow. "I'll have a listen." a few moments pass, he shakes his head. "Sorry Laska I." then he heard it. "I hear humming, faint humming." whatever it was, from Laskas expression she wanted to investigate. So did he. "I want to recover a bit more before heading back to our reality." He took a few steps in front of her then continued."So how about we investigate that sound. You look like you want too."

"Stay still for a moment." Niallus was back and Edyta had the good sense to stop and search his energies for signs of anything dangerous. She pulled back and she blinked almost immediately.

He looked at her and she looked at him and then she ripped her hand free of his. Were there energy to draw within greyspace, she'd have done it. He was twice her size but still woozy. And yet... he seemed agreeable enough.

"Freshman year, at the Trials, who was your Zeno and what did you steal from him and wreck?" Edyta's heart hammered and her mind raced. His mana was... completely different - completely wrong. Inside of him was... the bog monster, but... not exactly. Are those even manas!? she wondered, prying deeper into them with her energy sense. There were millions of them in his bloodstream, propagating endlessly, and they had supplanted - or perhaps fused with - his original manas, but they had also done something greater: he should've died from his wounds but, even now, she could sense the little symbiotes healing him. They were healing him, but would they also try to control him?

The rezaindian waited warily, ready to drop back into realspace at any moment. She swallowed and searched his eyes, his stance, his biochemicals, as alien as they now were. Then, there they were again: the voices, but this time, they were coupled with the distinct feeling that there was a hill beyond Niallus and, over the crest of it, would be home and the source of them.

She blinked again to try to clear her head. "Well?" she demanded impatiently.

When Laska asked him to stay still. Niallus was confused at her request at first. Perhaps there's an injury on his person that she noticed. "Is there something wrong? What is the matter?" He asked her, confused by how she was staring at him.

Her question was rather easy to answer, but given how she was looking at him, mixed with her impatientness he would have to give her an answer. The correct one. "It was Secto. And i didn't steal his stagecoach, I borrowed it." He shot back at her "It wasn't my fault that it ended up being destroyed. We just didn't have a plan to land it safely." Feeling his confusion getting the better of him he asked. "Laska, is something wrong?"

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she nodded tightly. "My name: what is it?" the nun demanded, scanning him again. There was a taint of the VOID, but perhaps it was just because he'd dabbled in the dark arts, like all too many Eskandish. "You're infected with something. It's kept you alive, but it could own you, and completely." Her response was the most basic of courtesies.

His eyebrow arched confused by her. But he responded to her. "Your name is Edyta, Edyta Laska." It was odd for him to say her actual name. He was so used to saying her surname.

Hearing her explain that he's infected with something. He immediately asked her. "And you are asking this question. to me to see if I'm still me. Correct?" He had no reason to not believe what Laska was saying to him, why would she lie to him. If she wanted to she could have just left him here to his fate. But from what she said. He scanned his body. There was something there. Living inside of him. Remembering the injuries that he suffered. Being inpaled by vines. The gunshot that hit him in the chest. No normal person could survive all that.

"What should I do? What can i do?" He asked.

Edyta began walking as she spoke, on toward Niallus, towards the hill that she knew was there. She could feel the mud, and when she deviated slightly from the path, the grass beneath her shoes. She could feel the pull of gravity as she began to make her way uphill. It was all so real.

"Live," she responded simply, "with whatever time you have." She shrugged, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder as she did so. "Live as long as you're you. Be watchful of what lives inside you." Always, that was her credo in life.

The voices weren't any closer. She crested the hill and... there was no hill. There was nothing to see beyond it. Perhaps she should stay, but first... "Aside from your greenish pallor, you appear well enough to return to reality."

Am I?

"Allow me to send you back?"

Niallus listened to Laska's advice that she offered to him. How much time did he have left that was the question. The other question was, what happens when it takes over? For now, he pushed those thoughts out of his mind. Live in the now. "Thank you Edyta." He said with a smile.

As he took a look to try to get some detail of the area around him. He was about to say something about his new tint of green skin. Then he froze, a voice he heard. It didn't come from Laska. The sensation of hearing it made his skin crawl. Was he losing control of himself already?

The moment she pulled her hand away, there was silence. The voices and the humming he once heard was gone. "Did you..." He stopped himself. Trying to regain his composure, but struggling. When she mentioned sending him back, he spoke. "No wait. Can you give me your hand for a moment?" his hand held open for her. There was an idea that came to him. This was needed to test it "Trust me."

Edyta Laska's face was a study in wariness and, had she been able to draw energy in this place, Niallus might've felt the prickling sensation of a complete draw. After a moment, however, she held her hand out. It was small and dainty, with long slender fingers that seemed almost... delicate, but that was belied by the rough skin and callouses. It was a young woman's hand, but also a peasant's and a warrior's. Her eyes flicked up to his for a moment. "What is it?" she asked cautiously.

"Something interesting." Niallus took her hand with his. It was soft and gentle. Immediately, the sensations that she previously mentioned all came back to the Eskand at once. The sounds, the smells, all of it. The sensation felt something similar to breaking the surface of water, after being submerged for so long.

"You asked me if I could hear something." with his grip on her soft hands, the connection became stronger. "It seems that I can only hear and sense other things when I'm in direct contact with you." lifting their joined hands.

I'm the source of it, then. I'm creating it. Edyta furrowed her brow, businesslike, and nodded, pulling her hand away. "Thank you," she said quickly. "I think I'm the source of it, but there's someone I can talk to." She took a breath and released it, ignoring the sounds and sensations of home and family. "We should be getting back now. Who can say what kind of trouble the others might be in." She reached again, expectantly, for his hand.

When Laska let go of his hand. The sound of silence returned to Niallus once more. "You are welcome." He said to her taking a breath. "If you need help on this, you can ask me. It's the least I can do. After all, you did save my life, twice."

There was some hesitation in him for answering her about wanting to return. What if he loses control the moment he steps out of the greyspace. Swallowing that fear that was building up. He could only do what Laska suggested. Live. If it wasn't for him being infected, he would be dead. He gives her a nod taking hold of her hand once more. Ignoring the sounds and sensations Laska was emitting. "Yes."

They came back into the world just as the worst seemed to have ended. Roslyn was nearby, having killed something hideous. others were in various states of battered, bruised, and burnt, but all seemed more or less alive and already healed. So it was. So it seemed to have ended... or had it?

---

The rotten seed within Sven gurgled and cackled at the display of heroism that had hampered its unceremonious slaughter of the Yasoi fool. "A miracle it truly is-" the "Sven" raised his arms up in a Y-posture in jubiliation. His grin nearly matched that of the one that had its way with Ingrid deeper in the marshes. Blood began to pour out of his nostrils like he had just been struck there. Then his eyes, and ears and pores. Like a severely damaged pipe, he oozed off the dark red ichor, soon coming with chunks of flesh-like matter. This continued until he drowned in a contained pool of the stuff.

And from all this blood came the form of a large - twice the height of Sven himself and considerably larger - red creature. Grotesque did not begin to describe it. It looked like a morbidly obese man with flappy breasts, veins protruding out of its sides, a folded naval, and legs that were almost entirely consumed by that gut. And its head, not yet taken by the red folds of the horrible monster, lacked eyes but as it "peered" down at the humans that had come to Esmii's aid, they could just *feel* it staring at that. Clumps of hair were present on its bony scalp, and its mouth, perpetually agape, made with a tongue that rolled down to the tip of its toes. "-that fools such as thou have lived this long!" a distorted voice blurted out, fat arms risen as were Sven's in celebration.

As it lowered its girthy appendages, the right hand found itself wielding a massive butcher's cleaver made entirely of the same stuff that had just formed it. Once again, without mercy, it cast its wicked hatred upon Esmii with a downward slash of its weapon upon her.

The more observant of the bunch could notice the beast's belly was not entirely opaque - a tad bit of light revealed *something* inside the beast. Further sensing would recognize the shape of a person.

Watching his friend turn into a grotesque blob. His stomach churned, and his spine tingled. Was this still the effects of the Grey space that he and Laska were in a little while ago? It mattered not.

When the monster raised its weapon, ready to cut down the beloved of the original person of where that monster stood. Niallus rushed across the water to the Yasoi's aid. He drew in Manas, a lot of Manas. He created a strong barrier of Kinetic energy, to absorb and stop the attack. "Quickly get yourself healed Esmii."

The mighty cleaver descended, smashing into Niallus' barrier of "kinetic energy", vague as it was difficult to keep in its formless state. The barrier shattered but struck Niallus with an aftershock while Esmii could just barely sneak away once her spine had been made operational enough. The foul, crimson axe was yanked out of the fissured ground after the fact and a mocking gurgle was dedicated to the flock of sacrifices.

Then came the nun's frost. This time the demon did not just idly take punishment. In its inactive, fat hand was formed an identifical cleaver from its very flesh and blood. With a singular jab downward, the spreading, red corrupting clashed with the ice, preventing further progress. This did blind it - in spite of its missing eyes - the shot to its belly. The bullet merely ... Bounced off the fat abdomen. A strange result, one that wasn't caused by the thick layers of meat and red ichor but instead by a constant focus the monster had in channelling unseen layers of heat and air around its belly and head. If they were going to pierce through, they'd have to break its focus or stance somehow.

With a giant belch, the demon jubilantly rushed for the group with reckless abandon.

The demon was tough. He was, after all, a legendary tier five. Edyta did not have the time to think about which of the three this was. Screamer? Eater? Sacrifice? She threw a shield of half-formed stone up between her and a mighty blow, phasing into greyspace for but a second and coming out a few yards away from where she'd plunged in.

Screamer? Eater? Sacrifice!? She could smell her mother's pierogies, on the holidays when they could cook them. She could hear the sizzle of the frying pan and the chiming of the church bells.

In and out of reality, in more than one way. Then Niallus was cleaved nearly in half and she began rushing over to heal him, but he did not need her rescuing this time. He... healed in the most uncanny way, and she steered clear. Is it you we shall have to fight next?She prayed it would not be, but then she saw it: an opening as the demon raised an arm. The moment that she released her cryogenic spell, she could tell, just by muscle memory, that it had misfired. Yet, it struck true and blasted an arm clean off.

Edyta was usually not one to question gifts from the Eshiran. She'd been granted many already. Still, she'd felt herself get the formula partially wrong. She knew her spells!

It had hit, and she supposed that was all that matytered. Esmii was recovered as well, and a great boon, and Edyta was glad of it. She was glad of it but for the lingering feeling of unease in her stomach. Screamer... eater...

Oh no.Niallus got back up, with the blood of this thing in his veins. His left arm became distorted, bigger. With the others attacking it, causing it to stagger. Niallus stood in front of it. From hearing his friend's voice echoing from its gut. With his super powered left arm he gripped its stomach. "Time to die. You piece of shit." In a swift movement of his arm. His fingers dug into it, breaking the skin. Then he ripped it. A huge chuck of its flesh came off in his hand. Blood and guts came out of it like a river, covering Niallus from head to toe. The Eskandishman however was unfazed by this brutal act as he dug his friend out

# Blood Pool
Niallus dug his mutated arm into the bulging demon, twisting and burrowing his digits in there. With enough force, the gurgling and laughing monster began to shriek in horrendous pain. Blood burst out with immense pressure, until a massive fissure formed in the center of the belly.

Laska stood idle, unconvinced this was the end. Something was wrong.

"The sac- No, wait. Wait!"

She was just about ready to spring into action when the massive, red zit finally exploded in a wave of blood before the stoic Niallus. The monster fell back, arms raised in jubilation as the cleaves faded into dust. Out came the shape of a person in foetal position, in the centre of the massive splatter of blood where once stood the fat bloodgorger.

**He-Help me pleashe ...**

They heard, initially coming from the middle of that bloody ground zero.

**My friendsh, pleashe saaaave meeee ...**

The voice, it wasn't as clear this time, or rather its origins weren't. It felt like it was higher than it should be, and to the East.

Niallus, on the other hand, could barely register anything. His body was not taking kindly to this new symbiotic invasion. He fell to his knees, body burning up inside and his limbs unresponsive, barely a few meters from the person he had freed.

**Heeeee HEEEEEEEE!**

The voice from higher up cackled. Then, its progenitor looked down at them with a massive, obscene smile. Its form was all black and made of tar, limbs far too long and its eyes pure yellow.

**Youuuuuu did weeeelllllll!!!**

It just stayed there, on a tree, gawking at both the humans and the individual lying in the muddle of bloodgorger's blood.

Niallus fell to his knees, even though the nerves worryingin had been severely dulled in this state of, whatever it was. It seemed it had a toll. He wanted to check the body next to him, check if it was his friend, but his body was unresponsive. He began to breathe heavily, exhausted.

Niallus simply knelt there the pain he was suffering seemed to subside. The only problem was that he couldn't move. When the person that was next to himt up. All of the muscles in his body demanded only one thing to do.

Ru.

He tried his best but his body felt too heavy, unable to move. At best, he was able to raise his head so he could see the face of the person who was originally next to him. From how he was, it was like he was kneeling in respect, but at this moment. He was awaiting judgment.

The Evil Smile relished in the Pandemonium. And once carte blanche was given by hiseminence, the impossibly thin and slimy creature flexed its legs and propelled itself at speeds that rivalled Desmond's exciting escape. The Magusjaeger had made it through the portal, but not the others.

"IN. MY. BELLY!!!!!!!" its massive maw was unhinged and the endless abyss of the Smiler's gullet awaited them. Except, it wasn't going for any individual, but rather the portal itself!

As Niallus knelt there at the mercy of the Demon, he realized that no one was going to help him this time. It felt natural, always having to help others, but now no one was there for him. Or maybe they got tired of helping him. Either way, He felt pitiful and insignificant compared to his predecessors' accomplishments. Despite believing that his life lessons and mistakes would make him a better person. Now it feels like nothing but a lie.

As footsteps approached, Niallus saw that it was Esmii. He didn't understand why she was helping him when she had a chance to escape. Before he could say anything, she spoke and began to heal him. Esmii's healing powers enveloped Niallus, mending his wounds and revitalizing his strength, filling him with a renewed sense of hope and determination.

Looking over Esmii's shoulder, Niallus saw Evil Smile trying to eat the portal. He wanted to help, and his mana colony responded, resonating in his core. Maybe this was Oraff's way of giving him a chance to protect his friends. However, he knew that all actions in this world have consequences.
*I'm sorry my friends*

*I'm sorry Hylaeni, how I'd wish to hold you in my arms one last time*

Thinking of his friends and family, Niallus expelled some of the manas and dashed towards Evil Smile. The manas stored in his body multiplied rapidly, and he conjured not one, but multiple Arcane Swords into reality. Void energy flooded from his system, coating the blades of light with dark energy. As he swung both swords, void energy rippled from the swing as if it was eagerly wanting to strike Evil Smile. The air crackled with power as the Arcane Swords sliced through the darkness, aiming to vanquish the malevolent force threatening the portal and his companions. The moment was intense, filled with a mix of fear and determination, as Niallus unleashed his full power to protect those he cared for.

Evil Smile was a scourge of life on Sipenta. He had appeared seven times within recorded history and, on each occasion, had been responsible for thousands of deaths. In one instance, the tier five demon had swallowed the armada of Stathicles the Redeemed and singlehandedly caused the downfall of his Great Thalak Empire. On three other occasions, he had directly brought about the coming of Belthagor, Grand Demon of Arrogance and one of the Three Kings of Hell.

This time, he was about to die, and his death toll was only in the hundreds.

The demon's beady eyes widened. He tried to reel back out of the way, but it was going to be too little, too late. A being of this power, taken down by one man!? It felt like some scarce-believable myth of old. "Master, I am lost!" he wailed, perhaps not nearly as pathetic as he sounded, but aware that appealing to Belthagor's immense pride was the best course.

The Grand Demon cared not for his minion, however. Evil Smile had served his purpose and there was a deliciously dramatic woman in front of him: Sven's beloved. It was time to make her disappear. There was a second: a moth drawn to his flame, and a potentially useful one. His magic overpowering hers, he reeled her in.

So, Evil Smile did all that was within his power. His jaws spread wider, his eyes glowed and, from the near-endless void of his gut came demon after demon of the second, third, and even fourth tiers. They spilled into the world, released from the monster who had consumed them, and set upon Niallus.

A dozen or more fell immediately to his mighty strike, but there were still more and Evil Smile remained, as yet, alive and barreling towards the others!

With the Demon that he attacked recoiling and wanting to keep his distance from this Eskandishman. Demons erupted from Evil Smile's gut. Those demons were grand and diverse. They all charged at Niallus all willing to give their lives to put him down for their master.

Niallus stood ready, ready to strike. He was done holding back; the way his mana surged with newfound power, it seemed that he couldn't hold back now. One demon recklessly charged ahead of the others. Wanting the honour of killing Niallus. The demon soared off the ground towards him. Niallus was not given an inch, standing his ground. Swiftly stepping to the side of the demon's trajectory. Following it up, Niallus' Void Sword cut straight through the demon's neck, removing it from his shoulders. The body flopped to the floor behind Niallus as he wasted little time as some other demons continued their advance on him. Niallus let go of his concentration on one of his swords, causing it to fade from reality. Grabbing the leg of the one he just decapitated. Swinging its body as a club with kinetic energy. The corpse collided with the closest one. A sickening thud was heard as the demon's bodies crashed into one another. Even loud enough to mask the sound of demon bones breaking. Not wasting time Niallus stamped on the demon's head with the sheer force of his foot, crushing its skull.

This was getting him nowhere, as he could see more and more demons were coming out of Evil Smile's gut. That was his target. Not these distractions. The third one charged, Niallus, responded with an advance of his own, not backing down. The demon swung its heavy, in an attempt to behead the Eskandishman. Niallus slid on his knees, avoiding the demon's attack only just. Bringing his last Void Sword into the gut of the demon. Blood splattered everywhere, but Niallus didn't break focus. Like a great hunter, he was determined to get his prey. Small scratches that he had received, instantly recovered. You are not getting away. he thought as he gave chase to Evil Smile.

"You think you can take me on so easily!?" the demon taunted, his great maw opening to truly disgusting dimensions. "Up until now, I've only been using a mere five percent of my power. Now, let's see how you fare against my... BITING BLAST!"

From his mouth erupted a colossal beam of energy so powerful that it turned the very air around it into unstable plasma, that reality itself seemed to waver, and this was headed straight for the portal and the others!

However, it had left an opening. Niallus would have to choose: block the gargantuan attack or kill Evil Smile and let it hit?

Seeing that he had the opportunity to attack and kill Evil Smile, Niallus wanted to. But the urge to keep his friends protected took a higher priority. Niallus dashed across the boggy marsh his Manas heeded his call once more. He was going to need a lot to stop this attack. Hardening the air in front of him as he stood in waiting for the eye of the storm to connect. Void energy flooded from his system, strengthening his barrier.

The beam clashes with his barrier. The sheer force of the impact pushed Niallus further and further back. His feet kicked up muddy mass while they scraped across the surface. The edges of his void kinetic barrier began to warp, was it failing? Then parts began to splinter away. His arms burned from the sheer heat of the attack even the skin on his forearms and parts of his face began to feel it, his nerves screaming in sheer agony from this chaos. His body did its best to hold back the injuries, healing him to some degree, but even that was slowly faulting as the damage was just outpacing it.

He gritted his teeth, trying to hold his own. Digging deep into his very core, using whatever he could spare and worry about the consequences later. His magical defence was struggling, but it was able to hold some amount of the power that Evil Smile used in his attack. Niallus didn't have long before he'd lose control of the magic that he held. Pouring what Manas was left of his defence spell and some more from his system. He manipulated what he had into an Arcane Lance. He could feel his grip on slipping rapidly from the sheer density of magic. He aimed at Evil Smile, and threw it with all his might. The lance shot off, making a straight shot to Evil Smile.

The demon was winning, his beady little eyes wide with cruel glee as he savoured Niallus' impending annihilation. Then came the Eskandishman's counterattack. He shouldn't have been able to counter like that. No human should've! Evil Smile's eyes widened some more, if that was possible, but in fear this time.

A river of pure burning light and heat burst through the middle of the vendemon's beam of darkness, racing up its length and right into the mouth of Evil Smile. At the last moment, he tried to flinch away.

It was too late.

The arcane lance punched through his mouth with a meaty, sizzling 'pop!' and then out his back, melting him from the inside. The demon let out a sick gurgling wail, wavered for a moment where he stood, and fell forward, smoking. There was a tremor that came up through Niallus' boots, and the few who had not yet passed through the portal twisted for a second, feeling it as well.

Evil Smile was dead.

Belthagor floated there in repose, beautiful and terrifying, his face an expressionless mask of thought. Then, he scowled. "Sorry, old friend. You were weaker than I thought." He alighted upon the ground and, immediately, where his feet met it, it began to burn with unholy fire.

Certainly, Esmii tried with all of her strength. Roslyn did what she might, but their attacks did not so much as reach him, dissipating yards away. Belthagor walked toward Niallus without breaking his stride, the latter of the two dragged by invisible chains in his wake. "You," he admitted, "are stronger than I thought."

The grand demon opened his mouth and a milky grey-white smoke began curling out of it, spreading quickly and reaching for all three of the others.

After the colossal lance of light and heat streaked across the gap between himself and his target. Niallus felt something off in his system as if this counterattack had taken from his very core. He gave a triumphant chuckle as his shot in the dark, his final stand against Evil Smile, came to an end.

When the demon collapsed to the floor dead, the shockwave that was caused made Niallus drop to his knees. His breathing is rapid and shallow. I didn't think I'd be able to pull that off... his mind screamed. His arms were covered in burns and blisters. His newfound healing abilities seemed to be working on repairing the damaged cells in his forearms. It wasn't as rapid as the previous injuries, was he reaching his limit of it?

Hearing a voice only uttering a single word, he immediately lifted his head. As if he knew he was the one the voice was talking to. The Grand Demon was slowly approaching him. His two friends, Roslyn and Esmii, are dragged behind him against their own will. Niallus had already been through so much. Killing strong demons. But a Grand Demon. Impossible. When the Grand Demon spoke to him, Niallus saw unholy smoke leave the demon's mouth. The Eskandishman couldn't move. He was at his mercy, feeling the smoke slowly creep up his body. It crept into his mouth, filling his lungs. Every corner of his being was engulfed by smoke. His mind was being invaded by the Demons will. He tried to keep it at bay. But it wasn't successful.

*Submit to me*

The voice invading his head commanded. Pain consumed his body. His body, his skin bent to his will. This was something that Niallus wasn't going to escape from. All of his personality slowly ripped from him. His likes are gone. The memories of his friends, one by one, each one was ripped away. The last memory that was left to go was his dear Yasoi, Hylaeni. He desperately tried to keep her in his thoughts, but it was also gone.

---

---

---

The dark tunnel with shallow, unscented waters grew darker as the collapsing magma lagged more and more behind the desperate tunneler. Whatever had attacked them had either lost Xiuyang or had changed its attention to something else. Still, even with limited range, the Revidian could still sense the obscene quantities of energy being molded by that thing. It was still close and its speed promised swift retribution should it ever be reminded of her existence.

There really wasn’t much to see forward other than total blackness with constant splashing of the increasingly shallow puddles under Xiuyang’s feet. Her feet that, in a split second, no longer had hard land to step on. There was a steep, downward incline where the water, once at a high enough level, would flow down into.

It was the only way, no branching paths or manholes nearby. Lest, of course, she doubled back into the inferno.

Xiuyang proceeded blindly, spurred on by fear. If she were going to die, she wanted it to be in the arms of someone who cared, not in some distant and cold place where even the dead couldn't find rest, and the idea of being a wandering ghost was only romantic if she could actually leave this place and explore the world like she always wanted. The strangest thoughts always came to her when she was hopped up on adrenaline.

Just when she had started to ease up on her binding magic and provide her own light, her foot caught a slope, and she was sent sliding down. She threw her upper body back and reached for the ledge, which she could have only missed by about a centimeter.

"NO!!" she cried, trying to find purchase on any little crack or built-up detritus she saw.

Desperately she grasped for dear life. The bit of moistened filth she clutched upon made the sharp bend she clutched onto all the more painful and inconvenient. But she held on even without the gift to give much help in this energy poor space.

That's right, outside energy was aplenty, but without as much air current the sources were scarce, especially with limited range. A fact made all too obvious to a devourer.

Clack-Clack-Clack ...

There was something below, Xiuyang could hear it now. Inching closer to whatever her fate was going to at the bottom of this chute. Above was a ghost, below was the ominous unknown, clacking regularly like a pendulum. Surely her screams were heard, too.

It was an uncomfortable position, but one that gave her time to think. Above was a relentless, murderous being with no obvious weaknesses she could exploit as essentially a non-mage. Below was something that sounded as if it might be mechanical in nature. Whatever it was, she could have some hope that it at least physically existed.

In this dead place, something moving was either alive or related to her goal of finding the Abyssal Forge, she told herself. In fact, if it was something alive, it was probably an ally. Shoes, or perhaps... crutches. Her blood ran cold at the thought. It might be Juulet.

But also... she might have the upper hand on Juulet, under these unique circumstances. Should she risk it? It seemed as if she had do. How was she even going to climb back up, now? If only she hadn't left the talking box with the other two, she would have some guidance. She could have asked it what was below, or how to get back out. Get out... would she ever get out of here? A decision was made for her as her handhold gave way—a decision that, she hoped, was the right one.

She let go, drew her dual pistols, and faced forward, with some measure of determination.

Down the literal drain. The slide was helped by the consistent dampness of the pipe, but the darkness made the end of this ride a mystery. All of a sudden, her rear found solid ground, well solid muck in this case. Luckily, as gross as it was, it did soften any sort of impact she may have.

It did cause a loud, wet thud however, one that the clacking reacted to without fail. The rhythm had stopped for a moment before continuing.

Xiyang was inside a wider pipe-shaped interior, one with what was once a canal in the center with walkways on both sides. It was drained with only more shallow puddles here and there. Many of the diverging paths were blocked by metal bars, though some seemed rusted enough to break though.

The clacking got closer. And then ...

A whistle? A swift tune to beckon attention. It came from the right, through one of these rusted barriers. With it came a dim light that grew stronger with every tap. Brighter and brighter until a face could be seen.

Of course, it was Juulet.

“Eyyyy.”

Xiuyang swiped the bulk of the water and filth off of herself with a touch of binding. She was not going to fuss over her appearance under these circumstances, but even she had standards. She pointed her guns in the direction of the sound as it approached her.

I wouldn't have been mad if you let me be wrong this time, Shune, she thought with exasperation, lowering one gun and raising the other. She lit up the inside of the muzzle to create a directed beam of light, with less mana or concentration than such a thing would otherwise take.

She loathed this woman—this creature—with every fiber of her being. Yet, if the voice in the mysterious box was to be believed, if not fully trusted, all their lives were threads tangled together into one big knot right now, and she would only bring harm to herself or possibly Yuli or Seviin if she failed to protect her archenemy.

But.

She couldn't let this chance get away from her. This was a chance to speak her mind, just this one time.

"Being behind bars suits you. It's a good look."

The constant tapping that echoed through the sewers was the butt of the spear Juulet had been using to drag her one-legged self through the once rancid maze. There was a small orb of light hovering over her should revealing disheveled look that matched Xiuyang's.

“Well fuck you too.” rebutted Juulet after cocking her eyebrows, her voice unchanged from her normal. Then a pause as she gave a quick head-to-toe brush of the Revidian's form with her violet gaze. “Although, honestly, who is the real trapped rat here.”

The Yasoi grimaced as she assessed the bars. A couple of taps from her spear had some of the rest strip off and with it some of the bars. “So much for high security. Dami be blessed.” the blade grinded against the metal, slowly eating through the barrier that separated the two opposite personalities.

“So, how did you end up alone this time? I thought we were all in groups.”

No comment about Xiuyang being flushed down the drain like sewer rat shit. It was almost disappointing, like watching her tremble in fear of death by a demon was less satisfying than Xiuyang had imagined. Though, she had pretended that she'd found it amusing, just like she pretended that she was okay after what happened in Yarsoc, lest her father whisper in the Doge's ear about some "retribution" or other. "Ambushed by one of those 'ghosts.' Got separated."

The arm holding her raised pistol faltered. Was her rumored aberration madness held at bay? Was this the real Juulet? "Sorry. I'm scared too," she gambled. "I can't let you kill me without one last zinger. But I was going to ask you the same. What idiot left you on your own, like this? Even if a fraction of your power is still a lot, if one of us dies, it sounds like we'll all suffer the consequences."

Juulet sucked in both her cheeks, forcing her lips to pucker up. “Spooky.” was her answer to the mention of specters roaming among them. Her attention seemed to be more on the bars she was chipping through. She was getting there, though it wasn't easy with only one leg and a tool that wasn't made for this purpose. Alone. More than once, after a light grunt of annoyance, did she shoot an expectant look at Xiuyang.

“A fish dumped me here.” it was her turn to answer, and still the nonchalance remained. “And the sun itself was a bit more whipped than I had thought.” she chuckled, leaning her shoulder to the cold stone for a quick break. “Toooooo be fair, there was a headless burly monster about to kill us all.” again with the cheek sucking, only one this time. “Honestly? I'd do the fucking same. Doesn't make me less upset, though.” said the remarkably unbothered Vyshta wannabe, now back to work. The barrier was nearly down.

“Is that what's keeping you from shooting my brains out?” Juulet canted her head, letting her dark and dirtied locks fall to one side. “You definitely looked poised to do so, 'till Shune gave you your brains back.”

"I'm watching what's behind you. I'd hope you're doing the same," Xiuyang retorted. "...So you were with Leon and one of his many mistresses, I take it. I came with Seviin and Yuliya. Did you keep that talking box, or does Leon have it?"

As Juulet's solo prison break neared completion, Xiuyang nodded at her less than subtle request for help. "Back up a bit. I can break it now."

Xiuyang gathered what energy she could—to erect a small sonic bubble around the barricade. No, she broke the bars one by one with consecutive, ordinary kicks. Zeno Sectoxomactex would be proud.

Juulet complied after a loud snort from her nostrils, hopping a few ways back and hardly flinching when the barrier came down. A whistle of appreciation, potentially sarcastic, was warranted. “Big and strong.” she flex the arm that wasn't bound to the spear. “I wouldn't stand a chance against you. No sirree bob.” an impish smirk found its way onto her expression.

The mad avatar hopped her way through the new passage. “No box. It stopped working when he yanked that string off a wall.” she looked around with swift turns of her head like a lemur that had just found some food. “Hmmm. I suppose you came from up, huh? Then ...” she kissed her pointer finger and pointed the opposite direction. “Lead the way? Unless you're taking me hostage.”

"So you noticed," Xiuyang replied, with equally ambiguous sarcasm. "I'm not taking you hostage. The score between us was even, remember?" Her little faux smile faded. "Never mind. You wouldn't."

Xiuyang tried to think. There had been at least one sharp bend in the pipe, so in her moment of panic, she had lost some confidence in her sense of direction. She also wasn't sure how she would be able to tell when she was underneath her destination, now that she thought of it. In other words... she was lost. Just a bit. "Think we'll get lucky and find the Forge right underneath where he told us to go?" she remarked idly, looking around.

Her light stopped moving around when she found what she was looking for: the Impact Site. Ground Zero. The most well-defined butt print the two girls probably ever saw. Above it was the pipe Xiuyang had fallen out of, and since the sharp curve she remembered—and she hoped it was the only one—had gone that way... "It's this way..." Xiuyang decided, avoiding Juulet's eyes.

“We had a score?” Juulet raised a brow after conferring a brief glance toward Xiuyang. “I'm hoping we don't. The box was getting uppity about that fountain. I don't want that fucko pulling a tantrum. Not until I find 'em anyway.” her shoulder rested against the spear-turned-cane as she adopted a leisurely gait to take in her surroundings. A lot of old stone and rusted pipes.

As Xiuyang pointed toward what was essentially forward, Juulet's light orb captured a set of glyphs on what was the end of this drainage room where multiple gated pipes ended, one of which was where the yasoi had come from. The scripture was not only a faded green but was a variant of Hegelan that none of them knew. Nothing less than a fluent Hegelan speaker could get an idea of it. What was clear, however, was the arrow pointing to the right.

“Surely, if it points to somewhere, it must be of SOME relevance.” she made her case, arms open in a shrug. “And if something matters, there's probably a means to get out not too far.”

Xiuyang nodded wearily. She had to admit that Juulet had more reasons to be confident in her plan. "Like I said, it's even. It's fine if you just forget about it," she said, her face a mixture of pain and a forced smile as she chose to follow Juulet's choice of direction.

"More importantly... you said the box stopped working when it was detached from the wall?" It was clear from her tone that she thought it odd. However, she was now trying to use the Gift to search the walls for anything that might be unusual about them.

“Yeah.” Juulet continued with her involuntarily slow stride toward wherever the arrow was pointing. “There was this string that Leon guy tugged off the wall and it stopped working.” her attention was on illumination, being the better arcane mage and doing things no other way.

Xiuyang was onto something. The walls had a lot of cold stone, but there were also other inconspicuous filaments that barely stood out. They were made of different materials, all of them with some metal in them. One, however, had clear energy coming from it. Strong, electrical energy that flowed rapidly. So fast, in fact, that it was hard to follow. But the wire itself was static.

Juulet was yapping on about something involving the box. Hardly of relevance, not as much as the precision needed to weed out the wires from one another and lock onto the right one. It may have caused the Revidian to miss the tonely different “Oh fuck.” from the yasoi. It was unusually quiet for how surprised it made her.

The butt of her spear tapped against the other's hip. The lighting was enough to illuminate a good ten meters in front of them, including the floor. There were bodies. Or rather skeletal remains, bones covered by fried up (but not entirely mummified) flesh and congealed blood all around them. Except for their heads and some of their extremities, the latter other missing or covered in multiple layers of some old, multi-coloured fabric - rather, each was of a different colour. The head was different, it had nothing, but most appeared mummified or downright 'fresh' as far as corpses went. There were about seven or eight of them scattered in their path, easy to miss in the dark. Easy to step on.

Xiuyang jolted, perhaps more than would have been appropriate were it anyone else, but it got her attention. "T-Thanks. ...There's energy in the walls. I think we found our 'something important.' And... the last batch of involuntary explorers?" she theorized.

Now the floor seemed to be of interest to her. She was suspecting a trap related to this lightning in the walls that may have fried the corpses. She was also curious to inspect the blood for traces of the same compounds they were forced to take. If this was the path the others would follow eventually, then this discovery was good news, finally.

Juulet knelt down to inspect their morbid discovery. Each corpse was different, whether it was gender, size, and even race. There was at least one yasoi, a few assumed humans, quite a few hegelans too and an eeaiko was hard to distinguish with dried up features. “I don't know.” concluded the avatar as she passed her digits over the fabric that still coated some of the hands. “They're all wearing this weird wrapped up stuff. It's tight on them too.” she peered over at Xiuyang. “We're still wearing our stuff. And-” manipulating the head was left to the tip of her spear. “I've never seen people die like THIS. At least, you'd see it everywhere. But it's just the head. Also, there wouldn't be this much blood.” the expert had spoken.

She hoisted herself back up and continued, angling every hop to avoid a corpse. They would encounter a few more, all the same. One was bigger than even Ashon, resembling one of those tall folk from ReTan. There still wasn't any sort of rancid smell in spite of all the death around them. There was a smell, but what did a corpse smell like when there was nothing to feast on the flesh? Some sort of dried meat?

They were were at the end of the specific pipe they had been following. The exit was elevated, just over an old basin with nothing but a few corpses. A convenient ladder brought down down into the open container, one of many. To these two, this was more cryptic architecture of a mysterious and almost alien civilization. To any with hegelan notions, they could translate something close to 'Filtration Center' on a few surfaces.

Without warning, Juulet shoved Xiuyang into the basin before the ladder could be solicited. She followed soon after, the sounds muffled by a swift sonic bubble. The light was extinguished and the Yasoi's voice was lowered to a hush.

“Shh. It's coming.”

Inaudible at first, but the heavy footsteps soon reverberated on the metal basin they had fallen into. They were heavy and regular in their irregularity with a constant grinding noise accompanying the foreboding rhythm. In a matter of seconds, the footsteps echoed through the large filtration room they were in. There was something there. Something big. Something human shaped. Something headless.



There were no conclusions that could be drawn. At least, that was what Xiuyang told herself, because nothing good came to mind. A failed experimental method of protection from the unfathomable horrors of this place? Perhaps in finding their way down here they'd skipped some step where they should have received and applied bandages to themselves?

She threw them away with all the other thoughts that would paralyze her into inaction. Then, she screamed. Juulet had predicted her reaction to being shoved into a metal box with a few corpses already in it, thankfully.

Then, she was in the dark with only Juulet and the dead for company, at least until the unfathomable horror of the day showed up. It was a situation straight from her own nightmares, in which she could do little but tremble and cry. Silently, she prayed to Eshiran for deliverance once again, this time with the person she'd prayed to be delivered from last time sitting right beside her.

She had to be strong, but she was powerless. The Doge intended for Ciro to be here. If he knew anything, he couldn't have possibly expected Ciro to escape alive, could he? What did Ciro know? What was he doing right now? Was he praying, too? If she ever got out of here, would he rely on her again if she told him honestly how terrified and hopeless she felt right now? Would she even want him to?

Maybe Ciro would have been doing better. Perhaps this was just another indicator that he was above her level. Maybe he overestimated her. Perhaps they both did. Juulet seemed to want her to be quiet and wait, and she was in no hurry to do anything else.

Juulet was not immune to natural trepidation that came with horrors beyond one's imagination. But monsters were on par for the course when one wanted to change the world. This was another one of these freaks and she only lamented the position she had put herself into for this creature deserved nothing more than to be shown the light of the Gods through a righteous flex of power.

It was still very dark, but there was an unusual, colourful glow they could see shining over the bowl-shaped container they were in. This allowed Juulet to easily find one of the many cracks on the ancient metallic surface and get a glimpse of what was actually going on. Xiuyang was gestured over to watch, if she'd be so inclined.

The colourful glow came from the monster itself. Or rather the very same fabric they had found around the extremities of the corpses were wrapped all around its body. Green, blue, yellow, orange, red ... They all radiated a light as energy was being drawn. With how intense the light was, it was hard to see anything other than the bandages, leaving only to the imagination what that stump between the shoulders could be like. Its feet were also darkened, likely lacking in the same fabric as the rest of the body. It was burly, muscular and its movements incredibly stiff as if the joints had rusted with time too.

There were PILES of corpses littered all over the expansive room full of smaller pipes connected to many tanks and basins. In the center was the very headless thing they had both sensed, at least eight feet in height without a head. And dragged by one of its arms was a body. One that wasn't rendered skeletal like the others. It looked unresponsive and radiated a dim red. Until it was raised high up by the ankle.

“Dami-the-fuck.” she whispered.

The smaller, human-sized body began to wiggle and struggle. No sounds, just arms and leg flailing like it was a fish plucked out of the water. The many lights shined upon the head - the eyes were sunken and the skin dry. It looked to have been a woman once, but the protruding teeth of rigor mortis made it an impossibility this was a fresh face. And yet it moved and there was an undeniable heartbeat.

Until the headless' idle hand, in one robotic and swift gesture, grasped the fabric coating the living corpse, twisted it and ripped it all off in one go. With it came skin, muscle, blood, organs and even some bone. All of it immediately sucked assimilated by the rainbow of death that adorned the mighty horror. The skeletal corpse was then tossed into the basin.

Juulet nearly flipped. Of course it was their's.

Xiuyang crawled slowly over to Juulet to watch the horrific spectacle. It had no head, and ostensibly no brain to speak of, so she thought it might be an automaton of sorts. Its unnatural movements seemed to suggest as much, but any ghost of a notion that the being served the purely utilitarian purpose of protecting the Abyssal Forge was ripped away along with the impossibly alive woman's flesh. This thing did not just kill, it—or whatever controlled, or created it and left it here, seemed to enjoy the thought of torturing its victims.

Xiuyang was impossibly calm, almost serene as the sound of the remains of that woman hitting the metal basin echoed throughout what Xiuyang had decided was a tomb. Her trembling hands reached for her dual pistols.

"Hey, Juulet. What was your purpose in life? Besides just being the Avatar. I mean, what got you out of bed every morning?" She drew her pistols, and in this short moment, her intentions weren't clear.

Juulet's heart hammered her chest. Her palm upon it did little to slow down the light panic that hit what was once one of the most dangerous beings in the world. There was only so many surprises and horrors she could take before it just got a little too close. No crying, no whimpering, just one too many bad surprises.

The hulking monster stood immobile for a moment before performing a pronounced U-turn back into the tunnel it had original come from. With every step that got quieter, the yasoi's anxiety dropped in tandem.

The question was initially met with a grimace of revulsion. What this actually being asked of her? While they were sitting on a creeping puddle of still hot blood from the residues of the corpse. “Good food.” she answered sarcastically, voice still hushed as if the headless was still nearby. “And sometimes the next hit.” she mellowed, just a little, once the echoes of the footsteps had almost completely disappeared. “At the risk of sounding melodramatic, saving the world's a prime motivator. That and getting your ass kissed, I suppose.” she crossed her arms, back against the rust. “Why?”

Xiuyang's armed hands once again faltered as the beast rumbled away into the distance. She didn't put them away just yet, merely rested them on her lap. "Good food is a good answer." She sat there for a bit, letting her heart rest just as Juulet was.

"Because our death felt so close, I thought the truth might finally come out." She grinned impishly, though her whole body was shaking like a leaf. "I suppose I wasn't aware that the world needed saving. What other secrets are you and Ciro keeping from me?"

She stood up, not because her body was ready to move, but because she wanted an excuse not to look Juulet in the eyes, and to be literally anywhere else as fast as possible. She inspected the walls with her Gift once more, closing her eyes and pointing as she followed the wire's path. "There," she said, pointing to an empty door frame up on a catwalk far above the pair of girls sitting in their metal coffin. She walked to the ladder, leaving Juulet to her own thoughts and devices she had to escape this pit of hell they were in.

As for Xiuyang, it was time for some acrobatics. The stairs leading up were demolished, so she was left to climb on what remained, with small sonic bubbles around her hands and feet as she moved. It wasn't perfectly quiet, but it wasn't a screeching cacophony as it perhaps should have been.

“Who?” the light ball formed again, revealing a puzzled look that matched her voice. “You mean the guy you're screwing?” her tone was a tad obnoxious but lacked the sarcastic air she had a tendency of liberally spewing out. “The guy rubbed me as the average pizza-plotter. Boring. I leave that to the schemers I work with.” a wave of dismissal followed her answer. The lack of eye contact left the degree of sincerity up in the air here. “I've been honest with my goals from the start. I know it's a hard concept for pasta-yaniis to grasp. So Shune-kissed in your sneakiness.”

When their next destination was found, Juulet decided in that instant that she could not get up there in a timely manner. Not with one leg and hazards everywhere. With her manas swelled to their maximum ith energy and sweat accumulating fast on her forehead, she zapped right at the door frame just as Xiuyang had made it. She was in a light pant, but leaned against the frame like she was too cool for school. “Trouble in sneaky paradise, I take it?” here came nosy Juulet. A can of worms one couldn't just close.

The passage led to what looked to be an office. The flooring was cleaner, fitting for a working space. The wooden desk had seen better days but was in one piece, as was the rolling-spinning chair Juulet immediately sat upon, causing an unpleasant screech that warned her of its flimsy make. Not that it worked to dissuade her. “Fuck yes, a little break~” there was also a couch, one in far better state than the one Xiuyang was on in the apartment complex. Papers had withered to nothing, as did whatever was framed on the walls.

There was one thing that had survived and was in one piece, however: The wooden box, on the desk, unplugged.

Xiuyang's face soured, but she would allow Juulet to continue her slander. It was better if Juulet thought Ciro was boring and ordinary. It meant he was not on her threat radar—a reputation he might value. "I'll take Shune-kissed as a compliment," Xiuyang replied, finding her nonchalance again as her arms bore the strain of her struggles instead of her heart and mind. This wouldn't last, but it was nice.

Xiuyang wasn't surprised to see Juulet beat her to the door, but rather a little annoyed that she was blocking it like the too-cool school bully she was. "Just that I don't know what he's thinking," she dismissed as she brushed past. All her doubts and fears would be confirmed or laid to rest when—when, she told herself—she saw Ciro's reaction to her return.

She'd had a goal in mind when she saw the wooden box on the desk, but then Juulet mentioned a break, and they both needed one. Even in this state, Juulet had enough power to instantly transmit herself to safety from the bottom of a pit, just once. She would likely need that power again, soon.

Xiuyang dug through her medicine box and retrieved two small pouches of something. She tossed Juulet one. "Eat it, even if you don't have an appetite." She took her own advice, eating hers.

They were strange little things. Thin pieces of savory dried meat rolled up with salty seaweed on the outside, a lightly sweet paste in the center. Was there also cheese?

"So what are you saving the world from, Juulet?" Xiuyang asked as she paced the room, looking for something.

Juulet took the supposed snack, unwrapped it and leaned in for a conspicuous sniff. Then a couple more. It was easy for her to distinguish ingredients, but this mixture was something she hadn't tried yet. It made her reluctant, at first, until she saw Xiuyang eat. The deep monkey brain, or was that instinct more reptilian? In any case, seeing one in created some subconscious trust, and so she chowed down. Slowly, at first, then she wolfed away.

“Mmm, fuck, you huusoi know how to make cheese.” she spoke mid-chewing. She liked it. “Qitoip.” she added offhandedly. She finished her meal whilst slowly spinning on her new throne.

Then came the question, to which she reacted by dimming her light a little. “I think you lot have a name for it.” she took a moment to muse, head trained toward the dark ceiling, letting her hair flow over the noticeable short backrest. “Or maybe it's just the Severans. It's Marhazannet, I think? Basically, end times. Vyshta will, y'know, guide all mortals to the Dream or whatever they call the good option. We don't really have some intricate story or prophecy about this.” her gestures were dismissive, making it hardly believable there was any truth, but she also hardly paused or strained to think of what to say. It was all so seamless and conversational. “It's not something most people, even Yasoi, know about.”

The chair spinning stopped and her violet eyes locked onto Xiuyang's, daring them to look away. “It's begun. And many are unaware. Did you know some of your friends had a hand in it?” no smile, no grimace, only a canted head and a half-lidded, expectant look.

Xiuyang smiled a little. She didn't make the ingredients, but it was her... concoction, she supposed. It felt a bit good. Maybe she really should try to learn how to actually make food. She should have Seviin try some, too.

No, no. Back up. Who cares if Juulet liked it? This was a weird situation. Everything about it was wrong. How could she get so chummy with this monster, just because a voice in a box gave her some unbelievable warning?

Yet, the devil behind her had more interesting things to say than the one on her shoulder—and so, they talked. "Marhazannet. That's the thing Raffaella talks about. ...The pink midget," Xiuyang added helpfully, in Juulet's lingo. Her mother's diary talked about it too. It's full of dangerous ideas and ideals. Enough to tempt someone like Raffaella to try to save the world by preaching the end. Is that what Juulet thinks she is? A destined hero?

Xiuyang glanced back at Juulet just in time to catch her eyes. Xiuyang's went wide with genuine shock. Narrowed brows of denial would follow shortly. "What do you mean, it's begun? No, before that, who are you talking about? I have many acquaintances. I keep very few friends."

Watch who you trust, okay?

The Queen's words continued to gnaw at her.

“No clue.” was her response to the mention of the 'pink midget'. “Got anything to drink?”

The next question was expected, and she would either be drinking or confer a long stare at the other, waiting until she had something to sip before exerting her vocal cords any more.

She would end up speaking regardless. “Some of your not-buddies, then, got involved in something they shouldn't have. Now we have a big bad super-demon on the loose.” Juulet produced an exaggerated nod with wide and maddened eyes. “That's right, Salami, oh yes. Big bad monster that make that no-head look like a chump. Worst in the world, Salami. Can end the world, almost did once, Salami! We're FUCKED Xiuyang!” her voice picked up in volume the further she went, almost sounding like this was some sort of skit to mess with Xiuyang.

Suddenly, she deflated. “But, no really, a grand demon's out. Didn't you notice a missing Yasoi with tits-for-brains and a Huusoi with height-for-brains? Hells, I thought that bastard, Don-Balls, had died over there too.”

"You cooked her alive in the last round of the Trials," Xiuyang added with exasperation. "No one gave you shit for that?" She binded some water into her gourd, the regular one. It was a bit difficult.

She watched the yasoi madwoman lose her marbles. The wide-open eyes made her skin crawl, but she refused to look away. She'd confronted her fears in Mudville. She wouldn't let those eyes break her composure anymore. "Wow. I think that's the first time you've said my name properly," was all she offered in response to the tirade.

"The grand demon of arrogance. I heard about it. So that was what you meant. You said it like someone I know was working to end the world on purpose." With that, Xiuyang seemed to lose interest in the topic, and resumed scanning the walls. Soon, she found what she was looking for. She didn't know what a plug or an outlet was, but the shape was intuitive enough. Unless Juulet found Xiuyang's response to learning about Marhazannet lacking enough to warrant getting up off her throne, the voice in the box would be speaking soon, most likely.

“Nope.” Juulet took a long sip, draining the contents of the gourd with gusto. “Nobody cared because nobody really died.”

The yasoi then shrugged. “Well, it's a bit odd that it happened when they arrived, and they so happened to be the only survivors. I'd be a little suspicious.” she scooted closer by thrusting her hips forward, forcing the chair to inch closer to the desk. Slumping herself over the old piece of furniture, she could barely peek at what Xiuyang was doing. “It's definitely no coincidence the perfect conditions lined up there. Just saying.”

"Roslyn wouldn't do that," Xiuyang replied simply, though her thoughts ran a bit deeper. Finding out who stole my face and spear is a higher priority than ever. If this is seen as the beginnings of Marhazannet, I might become a suspect in a much bigger crime than murder. It's not being discussed openly, as far as I can tell, but if Juulet knows more than most people, does she know someone with my visage was there?

"You're probably right that it was a setup. Feel free to look into it, future hero. I won't be getting in your way anymore." After some more searching with the Gift, she determined that a little lever was preventing the magic from reaching the line, and flipped it.

“Who?”

With a flick of the switch, the radio turned on, but not without a hitch.

“- your comrades have not made it. They - adversity, no doubt. And soon you will too if you do not act quickly.”

“If a ghost - long, then - stirring. And then a horde. - that gate, we - preventive measures now.”

The static was strong and the reception mediocre. They were underground and this box did not seem to be a plant like the others.

“What was that? Oi.” Juulet, in her infinite grace, gave the box a couple of taps. Truly a natural with technology.

There was, however, no response to her approach. Nor could they hear any other voice other than the box's.

Xiuyang stood frozen for a moment, but she had enough wherewithal to get the box away from Juulet before she could smash it into pieces. "It's not responding to us. I think we're eavesdropping. At least, I hope so." She lowered her head. "A horde, he says. A fucking horde. What does he expect us to do in this state? How many people has he fed to this meat grinder to know so much?!" Her grip on the box tightened, causing the wood to emit a creaking sound. She resisted the urge to throw it.

"I'm going to die here," she mumbled with a simple acceptance, her voice weak. "...Hey, Juulet. After everything that's happened between us? We're going to share a grave together. Isn't that funny? Buried and forgotten with some yanii filth that pissed you off? Hilarious," she said, deadpan. She was not laughing. She was crying. Her coping mechanism wasn't helping anymore.

She inhaled sharply, wiped her tears and inspected the walls, again, her hands and feet repeating the same motions for lack of any other ideas, direction or purpose. The mirror... she would die if she tried to escape, if the man's words were true. Someone else would die, too. It wasn't going to save her, but maybe that "someone useful" could do a better job than her. If they could complete the mission, or save Seviin, at least... In the worst case, Ciro could at least bury her, right? For this, he owed her at least that much...

Her body moved on its own while her morbid thoughts continued.

“Probably a few dozens. Maybe a hundred.” answered Juulet offhandedly. Her focus on the box was interrupted by Xiuyang nearly breaking it. In fact, the pressure put on it accentuated the garbled mix of words and static, making most words nearly impossible to distinguish.

Something caught her attention, the same thing that Xiuyang used to bring them here. A singular thread rich with flowing energy that passed by this room. The key word being 'passed', as it continued into what looked to be an isolated door at the corner of the room with glyphs indicated stairs and some undecipherable symbols by it, most faded. This find made it easy to zone out the wallowing human, until her name was mentioned.

“Quit your bitching.” the avatar ordered dryly, her attention entirely on the door. “I'm not fucking dying, which means you're not.” a few long hops later and she was knocking at the reinforced steel door. “Also, there's a different between me being pissed off and being on a bender.” she peered Xiuyang's way briefly. “You'd be giga-dead if I had been really angry. Also, help me, would you? If folks worked here, they had to have away to leave without getting gross.”

As powerful as she was, her capacity seemed to have taken a massive hit. Perhaps even more than the Revidian as she struggled to even make that old door budge.

Xiuyang slowly turned and glared at Juulet, seeming to find herself again. "Killing me would have been kinder than what you did." Her feet dutifully carried her to the door. She traced the frame with a finger, giving it the same treatment as the manhole cover. Then, she'd pop up a sonic bubble and give the door a piece of her mind. "I won't let you say you weren't hoping I'd find a fate worse than death in that place," she said as she vented her anger on the door with a series of rapid kicks.

“Dunno. As I said, bender.” Xiuyang's anger was met with indifference. The door didn't really have a chance when faced with a very angry little lady. With a few well-placed kicks, the door fell and revealed stairs within a tight corridor, leading up. “If I had to think of why I did it, it was to maybe show a tree lover what the Yasoi life is really about.” she was first on stair-braving duty and she definitely wasn't fast.

The orb of light, which was more flame than anything, flickered a little as they ascended. “Air current. Well that's promising.” she remarked just as they met a near identical door as the previous. There was light emitting from it too, the same unnatural one from the office. If one was poised to break it down, the solution would quickly become obsolete as a simple press on the knob would open the door without a hitch. The creaking, however, was awful. “Huh.”

The next room was a plain square and held a variety of shelves and lockers, most of which served to hold guns. Most were gone, but a couple of decrepit leftovers could be seen. Perhaps there'd be something to salvage?

The most interesting thing in the room was what was in the center: A spire of metal and other material that hadn't really been seen by either of them. There was glass too that suddenly flickered with light as they approached. On this very screen were glyphs being generated rapidly and one of three dots above it flickering yellow while the others were a purer white than the surface of this contraption. The biggest sound of light was this machine with only a few light bulbs hanging near the lockers, barely forming a dim light.

Juulet was immediately intrigued by the shiny. With little regard for consequences, she favoured looking with her hand than eyes, and the screen reacted. Tactile. With a mere touch, a variety of new nodes with different symbols on them appeared. Options? “I have no idea what this thing is but I find this extremely fun.” with each tap on one of the nodes, a little beep was prompted with a variety of new options appearing. There were even sliders and symbols she could press to close other tabs!

There were a few other doors, most locked, and only one emitted the lightest draft of air.

Xiuyang followed Juulet, furious with the both of them. Juulet was saying stupid shit, and she was a bigger idiot for wasting more time thinking about what the addict said than she herself did. This woman didn't think about anything but her ego and her next hit.

"...Are you a child? Stop doing random things to it, before it explodes or something," she spat as she looked for weapons she could salvage. This place was a real mystery, but one thing that became obvious was that this civilization was far more advanced, which meant that if any of these were in working order, they'd have a huge advantage. No, with any luck, she would have an advantage, and Juulet would get nothing.

"So... is that all the Yasoi life is to you? Sitting around a campfire, tripping on aberrations and violating random yanii girls that fall from the sky? That's depressing." Her voice was devoid of sympathy. She didn't even know why she said it, or what she hoped to hear. Did she really need more justification to place a bullet in this woman's skull?

How nice it would be to just be able to kill someone without thinking, like Juulet.

Juulet stopped her little machinations to peer over at Xiuyang. “What the fuck is your problem?” she dragged herself closer to the human that had been sniffing about for anything to loot. The Yasoi was slow with every loud drag of her cane through the cement flooring becoming longer as she tried to hasten the pace. “If you've got a problem with me, settle it. Stop being a fucking moody weasel about it.” eventually she was right at Xiuyang's face. “Bitch.”

The draft was a little stronger, evidenced by the orb she had never bothered to snuff out dancing a little faster for a brief moment.

Xiuyang met Juulet's eyes, but she was shaking. Whether that was from anger, fear, or both, it was hard to tell. "You think my sympathy for the Yasoi was just a passing fancy? You sleep soundly at night because I told my father that nothing happened in Yarsoc. Because I didn't want more conflict between our species. That's why we're even. I decided that. Not you. You're welcome," she said with a tone of finality and of pain.

Armed with her new shotgun, she tore her eyes away from Juulet's and made her way to the door that seemed the most promising as an exit. She walked at a sedate enough pace for Juulet to follow, but seemed unconcerned with whether she did or not.

Juulet raised her idle hand at chest-height in a mocking surrender. “Oh no, daddy so scawee.” before unleashing a combination of a snort and a scoff. “Fuck you. You and your country suck.” there was the lightest bit of apprehension once she saw the tool of death Xiuyang had brandished for herself. A reminder that she still wasn't any stronger than this individual who had all the reasons in the world to kill her.

The Mad Avatar, in an effort to blow off whatever steam she was at risk of unleashing, entered a moment of calmness. Something made her furrow her brows. Something wasn't quite right.

A light creak from a door that hadn't moved. A flicker of the lights from the machine in the center that broke the established frequency Juulet had a knack for noticing. An unusual gust that made the flame dance.

Not-so-quickly, she went up to Xiuyang with wide hops. “Just wait a sec.” but this was far too late. The door was already half open. Something from the other side forced it open in the blink of an eye.

Taking up the whole frame was the same, massive monster from before. One heavy step through with the rest of the body lowering itself to fit in. Dragged behind it was not a body this time but an old, mounted gun that had been ripped off from its chassis. It held the piece of metal from the barrel and without hesitation swing it over its shoulder and down toward the duo of girls in one stiff and inhuman motion.

The shockwave of the impact made the door they had left open previous slam shut. An unseen use of the Gift closed the one it had entered from to trap its marks within the room. As it recovered from its opening strike, its body twitched incessantly until it regained its normal, stiff posture and began to walk as if it lacked knees.



Xiuyang knew her words wouldn't be taken seriously. She didn't need them to be. She just needed to say them to her face, and she knew she'd never get another chance to speak her mind to this monster without immediate and irreversible consequences.

She was already dodging away from the door before the beast could even make its move, so sure was she that Juulet's approach meant that a punch or slap was coming her way. A stroke of pure luck that gave her a moment to observe the approach of her slow, horrifying and torturous death, just long enough to notice what she hoped would be a weakness.

She leveled her shotgun, aiming at its knee, and pulled the trigger. The recoil was unreal—it sent her fully to the ground, her usual shooting stance inadequate to brace her. Fortunately, she managed to not hit her head, so well-accustomed was she to falling thanks to her martial arts training. It was a mistake she would not make again. "Cripple it!!" she cried, her eyes manic with terror. "Knees, heels, anything!!"

Juulet was far enough away that stumbling back had gotten her out of harm's way. Now on her derriere, she fumbled to get her spear in both hands and stand herself back up whilst Xiuyang delivered a shotgun blast to the monster's knee.

It mere backed up with that specific leg. There was no damage to whatever was within those layers of alien fabric, but she had managed to burn and rip portions of the outside layer. They were clearly resilient, thick and adaptable but not indestructible. But with only a brief interruption, the headless continued. With a weak stide but rapid steps, it closed the distance between Xiuyang and itself, this time extending its arm out to the side, taking nearly the whole width of the room between its muscular arm and the weapon it held, and brutally swung.

Juulet, despite not being the target, was going to be easy collateral. Just as she had gotten herself back up, she ducked back down, falling on one knee. She grunted in annoyance.

But with this hurdle came an opportunity. Legs, she said? The defiant Yasoi instead aimed for the armpit, aiming to disable that arm before anymore damage could be made.

The spear for stuck. It pushed into a gap between the different pieces of fabric, even piercing some of it, but it couldn't budge anymore. And with that, the horror's retreating arm had the piece of metal repelled her away, nearly breaking the near-Goddess.

“Fuck this, we need to BAIL!”

The spear had fallen after its arm had returned to neutral, dragging the chunk of metal with it. Now was Juulet's turn. It rushed forward, its movements gaining in fervor and speed.

"Run where?! How fast and for how long?!" Xiuyang demanded as she dodged behind the beast, causing it to lose line of sight and charge after Juulet instead. She took the opportunity to pick up Juulet's lost spear and throw it to her, but that was all the aid she'd offer for now.

She seized the opportunity to press herself up against the center console to hide behind it. The significance of the symbols, whether or not Juulet pressing random buttons had brought the thing here, whether or not the console was something important that this headless drone wouldn't destroy, all of these thoughts escaped her as she sought purely to hide and examine the monster's wrappings with her Gift. Was there also armor underneath? Was fighting it truly futile?

The layers of fabric that wrapped around this thing's entire body appeared to hide whatever was within from both harm and sight. A peculiarity that could be noticed upon focusing was how each different coloured piece of alien-cloth seemed to be different in more than just their look. They had an entirely different mana colony yet they all worked in unision like their own greater colony. Each time the monster moved, a select amount of these wrappings flared with energy.

There was something else that made focusing beyond the superficial of the creature more difficult than it should: The massive source of power Xiuyang hid behind. It wasn't just a console, it was filled with energy rivalling anything she had ever seen before, with the exception of that evil eye in the sky that threatened to take the world.

Juulet caught the spear with one hand and instead of trading hits in a losing fight, she opted for a parry. On something much stronger and larger than her. Crazy. Truly a mad Yasoi. Except the moment the spear hit the gun, a small explosion caused it to deflect just enough to whiff.

Seizing her chance, she planted the butt of her spear on to the ground and used the straight pole as a swift means to rise up and deliver a kick onto the recovering headless.

It hit true. And then what? It didn't move. It didn't really feel, nor was it damaged. The Yasoi was just kind of there like an idiot.

It grabbed her ankle and tossed her into the machine spire filled with energy, her back colliding with it pretty hard. So much for it caring about the that novelty.

Repeatedly, Xiuyang had convinced herself to swallow her fear and push just a little further. Now faced with something she feared more than Juulet, a terror she hadn't had time to grow accustomed to, she was losing her conviction.

One more, she again told herself. She would try one more thing. She could not use this machine, but she could try to draw from it, draw to her limits and attempt to burn the bandages away.

Xiuyang peeled through the protective layers that safeguarded this immense and pure energy contained in what would one day be referred to as a battery. Or some very advanced variant of one. The screen flickered as she drew, with only an insignificant grain of it already enough to supercharge an untethered Xiuyang. It was very temporary, however, as she could feel her manas already faltering and ready to burst if she didn't unleash it now.

In response to the stealing of energy, the machine's normal, white lights had turned red with an 'error' alarm blaring from it.

In the meantime, Juulet could barely catch her breath after hurting her back. She struggled to look up a the monster approaching her, this time using its idle hand to reach for her neck and finish the job it had started on the bridge. The yasoi fumbled to find her spear again, eyes transfixed on what was going to be her executioner.



Xiuyang's manas ballooned in power, beyond anything she'd felt before, and certainly far beyond anything she had available to her in this dead hellhole. Now she was the eye in the sky, looking down on this nothing that stood before her. Forget the legs, she was going to aim straight for the heart.

She leapt up onto the console, aiming her shotgun at the behemoth, using it as her focus point to unleash all of the energy from. That was not Juulet's neck it was about to grab—it was Seviin's, or Yuli's, or even her own. It was anyone but her archenemy, she told herself as heat swirled around her body, her hands feeling as though they were burning as they poured magic into her weapon. Her eyes and smile lit up with mania that could rival Juulet's, as she leaned back and took a wide stance. "EAT THIS!!" She roared, releasing a laser beam of intense heat and white light from the muzzle of her weapon.

Before it could lay a finger on Juulet, a mighty beam of searing energy blasted the headless' chest. No longer did it simply recoil, it was forced back in spite of the massive friction its heavy boots were exercising on the pavement. A good few meters back and a hole in the shell were gained, exposing none other than flesh. Some of it burnt, some of it still lightly tanned skin with quite a bit of body hair. It bled too.

“Fuck ...” a rattled Juulet pushed herself on her rear and then eventually on her one good foot. “Way too close.” she looked over her to see the Revidian riding the super-computer, striking quite the triumphant pose. A part of her wanted to make a comment, but for once the wannabe avatar kept quiet. She was also keenly away of what had happened to Xiuyang's body - now at the brink of collapse if she even gets close to overdrawing again.

The beast wasn't done, however. It only faltered for a moment. Its weapon once again fellt behind it, clutched tightly like a babe to its milk bottle. Something stirred with in it. It trembled with its idle arm beginning to flail about while remaining perfectly straight, meanwhile the weapon-bearing arm was adamantly immobile. The whole room shook in the rhythm of the monster's tantrum, looking like it was meant to scream but lacked the mouth to do so.

With this outburst of energy, a couple of doors broke down with their rusted hinges falling apart. One toward their exit, another to another, unknown passage. One where stairs led down just like how they had entered, but unlike where they had come from, the passage was completely flooded.

The light bulbs had burst, leaving the red-light of the computer and Juulet's orb as the only sources of light. They reflected magnificently on the multicolored monstrosity that never relented.

In a sudden range of motion it initially seemed unable to have, it leapt up with superhuman speed and power to crash its weapon down upon Xiuyang.

Xiuyang may have appeared triumphant to an outside observer, but inside, she was reeling. When the attack came, she was too slow. The massive hunk of metal clipped her upper arm close to her shoulder. She screamed as her arm was rendered immobile, broken and hanging limp by her side. She could not draw for that kind of attack again, and she could not fire the gun with only one arm, not without breaking her body even more.

But, there was someone else in the room who still had two arms—two arms, but only one leg to stand on. "Juulet! You can draw from it!" she panted, scrambling to her feet.

The console had been collateral in the monster's assault. Part of its shell was gone and the battery was exposed. Multiple wires were out in the open too, causing sparks to sporadically crack around it. If the alarm wasn't blaring hard enough before, it certain was now.

This thing without a head did not wait to celebrate or verify, it immediately rushed down Xiuyang as she called out, its hand swiftly reaching for her neck. A consolation prize for failing to kill that yasoi twice.

Juulet had rolled away when the attack had come and as she rose on her one knee, she saw her salvation: The exit. Instinct nagged her to go - it was her destiny to survive until the end times.

The Revidian mutt was out for her blood, a good riddance. Surely, she could mess with space-time to avoid consequences. Worst case? She'd be lucky enough to not be one of the dead. The monster was distracted, now was the time.

A breeze came from the escape. A stagnant one.

Xiuyang's neck was about to be snapped. An effortless act by a monster with no mind. Alone in a forgotten city. At the very least she'd be buried.

“BURN FUCKO! BURN!”

Juulet had zipped on its shoulder - a bare foot hooked on one and her nails digging on the other. She was supercharged just like Xiuyang had been, and with her free hand she stabbed the stump with her spear, directing all the remaining energy into the thing.

In a show of ever increasing speed, its metal club was swung upwards, slapping away what was surely going to be a grievous blow. The explosion that'd ensure would be misfired, propelling the monster toward the console rather than imploding it. Disoriented, it flailed about, having since released Xiuyang from its grip.

A final kiss to the damaged chest had it recoiling into the console itself. One unfortunately timed swing of the rusted gun later and the battery was struck. Immense quantities of energy burned into the headless, until it inevitably exploded.

An explosion not nearly as big as it should be. Deadly nonetheless. Most of it softend by a failsafe, a part of it sucked by the headless.

Xiuyang's eyes widened in panic as the beast grabbed her by the neck. This was her just reward for being so indecisive, part of her trying to make peace with Juulet, part of her trying to justify murder. It was now too late to reach the mirror, her one good arm wasting time trying to create space for her to breathe as her vision faded. She was going to die a more horrible death than she could have imagined even yesterday. She tried to scream, but no sound came out.

Juulet shouted, and Xiuyang could only guess who was the intended recipient, until she suddenly found herself on the ground, rattled to her core but virtually unharmed. She still could not see, but she could feel the energy building behind her as the imminent explosion approached. She drew as much as she dared and used her binding to produce a regenerating shield of Oraff to protect herself.

Both gratitude and confusion fought a territorial battle on her face as she looked at Juulet, out of breath and unable to give voice to her thoughts. Perhaps the yasoi would appreciate the moment of silence before Xiuyang decided to resume asking questions from which she'd get no satisfaction.

Then, however, she turned her eyes to the monster, likely thinking the same thing Juulet was: could it really be dead?

Juulet and Xiuyang had the same idea of conjuring a regenerating wall to survive the coming super-explosion. Their range and effective RAS was far too dampened for a teleport, especially when underground, so static defense it was.

Considering the amount of energy they were dealing with, they should have been wiped out. Even with the natural inefficiencies imposed on such power sources. And yet here they were and the blast wasn't nearly as big as it should be. Juulet smelled a rat.

Or was that just the horrible stench of burning flesh?

It came to not surprise that, as the smoke cleared, they would have maybe been better off taking the blast.

The thing was there, partially on fire but appearing relatively unscathed. The wound Xiuyang had made on its chest had worsened, now burnt black and the filaments around it damaged further. But it stood, alive with the flames doing little to nothing on its alien-ish cowl.

“No fucking way.” a distraught Juulet with widened eyes let her arms slump down, utterly in shock. “It sucked ALL THAT?!”

The monster stepped forward, its gait back to this half-limp like it had no knees to begin with. It was closer to Xiuyang with its massively imposing figure, and it needed some new layers.

“We gotta run ...!”

Xiuyang was frozen in fear. This thing was an automaton, a mere pawn, and it was utterly beyond her and Juulet. A terrified smile spread across her lips as she realized Juulet was right, the thing was still alive. "I can't... do this anymore," she breathed, tears streaming down her cheeks as she leapt to her feet and bolted for the only door that even vaguely promised an escape. "I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!!" she finally erupted, reaching with her one good arm for her medicine box as it bounced loosely at her side while she ran. She fumbled and fumbled for the object she was searching for: a mirror.

She didn't know how the voice in the box's magic worked. Trying to do this could kill her, but it was better than whatever that thing intended to do with her. She looked into the mirror at her pitiful, hopeless face and felt her stomach drop. The words. What were the words?! The footsteps behind her grew louder, she felt her heart pounding—

"Commuto cum socium alibi!!" she cried desperately.

Every rigid step got louder as its lust for flesh was geared toward the more complete of the two living beings. Its fingers hooked and cracked as it readied itself for the harvesting ritual they had witnessed back in the vat they hid in. Xiuyang was destined to be part of its wicked cowl.

As the words were spoken to the mirror, the stiff hand lunged at breakneck speed. The sheer force of that limb would be enough to actually break a neck.

If she was going to get away, it'd be by the millisecond.

But its hand stopped right before it got within a foot of her body. When she had just finished to utter 'socium' through the ball in the throat.

They were both interrupted.



An otherworldly siren reached even the depths of the sewers. A terrifying sound with no basis in the world both she and Juulet lived in. Ear-piercing too.

The monster stiffened, its arm still extended while the other lined itself parallel to its muscular flank. The outstretched arm flailed in a supposedly random pattern before having its digits dig into the fabric-collar that surrounded its neck stump, tugging onto it in vain before letting go.

The headless turned away from both of the warm bodies and walked toward the exit with the submerged stairs with a gait both robotic and charged with purpose. It submerged itself into the body of water like there wasn't any to begin with, sinking down until the lights from its layers were finally gone.

Juulet was helpless during most of it. Her spear was out of reach, energy was hard to come by and she was sure she had at least bruised a few ribs. When the mockery of life that was their executioner-to-be arose again, seemingly unscathed, she made herself small. Playing the hero didn't work and running was out of the question. She hated this. It felt like the trials.

She bided her time to eventually make it her's again. But the yanii was going to die, and with that everything she had worked for to make this expedition work, as botched as it was. When Xiuyang sought the aid of the mirrors, Juulet used any scraps she could to try and consume space and give precious more seconds to her lifeline.

It was going to fail, her previous overdraw had hampered her abilities further. That was it. Over.

Then the shrieks of an intervening God saved them. The monster, ordered by the alien call, abandoned everything in favor of the sewers' depths. Juulet onto her back, her chest heaving, now just realizing she had been holding her breath the entire time.

“It wasn't supposed this awful.” she mumbled, head turned to where the headless had come from, where the breeze came from.

Commuto cum socium alibi, she repeated as the wails of the damned echoed around her. She'd tripped and fallen and accepted her fate if the object in her hand couldn't save her. Commuto cum socium alibi, she repeated a few more times, like a broken record, each time more quiet than the next.

Why? Why wasn't this working? Even a power that evaded the Knowers could not take her out of this place? Had she already died and gone to hell? Did the "useful person" Ciro had promised her hear how dire the situation had become and abandon her to die?

"You coward!!" she shouted hypocritically into the mirror, which showed only her own crying face back to her. She let it drop to the floor, sobbing. She didn't know what the sound was, only that it was horrible and it either commanded the beast chasing her to go after a more important target, or had scared it away, which meant something even more horrifying was coming.

She shut her eyes tightly and began to focus on her breathing. Each time the wailing came, she inhaled and exhaled with it. Finding a rhythm, she began to set the shattered bones in her arm with her binding magics. It was among the most complex healing jobs of her life, but she took it one fragment at a time. By the time Juulet hobbled over to her, she was nearly finished.

Juulet scurried over to the emotionally worn out Xiuyang, spear back in hand and unflinching toward the otherworldly wailing from the outside. The butt of the spear ended its sequence of taps with a louder thud by the Revidian's forearm. Not quite a helping hand, but a useful rod was as nice as it got with her.

“Up. We got a job to finish.” she demanded with a pokerface and demanding voice. One contrasted by the faint voice of Leon Solaire reaching them with the same intensity as the siren. “We got fuckos looking for us.” she peered over to the exit that would eventually lead them to the surface.

Xiuyang packed away her mirror into her medicine box with the solemnness of someone submitting their last will and testament to a drop box, stood up and walked silently along, lacking the wherewithal to even complain about Juulet's lack of bedside manners.

It must be nice, being so completely convinced that one is a goddess, she thought. Every impossible survival was simply fate rather than a miracle in a long series of miracles that would one day come to an abrupt and cruel end. Yet, in spite of her godhood, Tyrel was such a nice person. What had gone so wrong to make Juulet so cruel..?

---

Xiuyang observed the towering flames on all sides of her, and felt the encroachment of their intense heat. Covering her mouth with her scarf so as not to inhale the smoke was all she felt she could do. She couldn't fight the fire without her Gift, nor propel herself high enough to jump over them. She lowered her head in defeat, resigned to try her luck with simply charging through—but then, she saw it: a tiny spark of hope in this ring of hellfire.

The circular piece of metal was too heavy, or was it rusted shut? Calling upon what little RAS remained to her, she traced a precise ring of chemical magic with her finger—just enough to fill the gap, no more and no less. Then, she reached for her medicine box, to retrieve her survival knife to pry it open.

She almost missed the fact that, unbelievably, the mirror of swift exchange remained. A thousand thoughts ran through her mind, threatening to distract her even as the flames closed in. They'd taken every other magical item, except her weapon. Why was it still there? Had it been quietly replaced with a fake? Was she being tempted to use it to escape, only to have the strange magic in her body seize control and punish her for her cowardice?

As she struggled with the manhole cover, eyes watering from smoke and desperation, she almost gave up and used it—but it was just then that it gave way and granted her entrance to the sewers. She might have expected them to smell like death, but this city had been frozen in time for so long that it no longer smelled like anything. She replaced the cover and began her descent into the dark and unknown.

Seviin tried to create a mighty wind, to blow the flames away from Xiuyang Solari, but she could not. She called out, but the Revidian could not hear her. She also could not take any longer. A priestess' job was to care for all Life, and so - pulse thundering in her eardrums - she turned her efforts to the Vossoriyan, Yuliya, though she scarce knew the girl.

It was only as her attention switched, at the very last moment, that Mother Oirase saw fit to bless her with relief: Xiuyang had ducked into some sort of circular cover. Seviin could tell herself that her - she could not strictly call the girl a friend - was safe.

She called, instead, upon the power of space and time, as all Tarlonese elites were taight from an early age. She knew, now what her limits were. She called and she bought Yuliya all of the extra time that she could. It was...

Five seconds?

The reek of rot had itself withered away into nothing. There was a distinct smell beneath the smoke and sulfur Xiuyang had been exposed to before her desperate escape. The smell of rust, or was it blood? He feet met with very shallow water, hardly even a puddle. Cool and likely recent. This place may have died but rain likely got through the great cloud that shrouded the whole city.

Needless to say, it was dark. Far too dark to see anything without aid. And while a light was easy enough to come by, even with reduced capacity, the Solari found herself illuminated from above. It was very bright, in fact it was almost blinding.

Up above, the flames had not stopped and once the ring had resolved, a massive tower of flames burst from it, consuming all within and cooking anything below. Essentially, a deluge of lava was imminent right above her. The luminescent effect of melting stone did offer a clear view of her options: Forward and back in the once-sewers.

Hurry, soon the flame's corrupting spread into cracks on the stone and withered metal. All was going to collapse sooner or later.

The flow of time and space was hardly ever interrupted in this city forsaken of all life. Which made the tug on the many strings that held this world together all the more conspicuous in a remote part of town. Seviin felt it, just as the author of the first use felt her attempt.

Five seconds? She had three.

Three she re-wounded. When Seviin bent the timeline, she found a new world she could influence, three seconds younger from where she had started. The city was the same, the stone beneath them was heating up and everything behind them turned to ash. Yuliya was alive, the apparition having just appeared before her and Seviin had not wasted her time checking on a safe Xiuyang.

What did change was the ghost. It looked just like Seviin, features obscured by the build, hairdo and shape of the eyes were undoubtedly a mockery of her form. It was staring right at the Yasoi too, still mid-motion of seizing the Vossoriyan.

But instead of attempting to strange the blonde, it held a minuscule, black shape in its infernally hot palm. An aberration, she'd recognize. A grand taboo for her kind. One she'd find being shoved literally into her face as the formless horror manifesed just a foot before her, palm readied like it was ready to slap her across the face with the aberration still in hand.

Xiuyang ran forward: towards her original destination, and towards the danger. It was not a decision born of bravery, but of perceived necessity: the water that once flowed through here was intended to flow in the opposite direction, and she hoped the molten rock and metal would do the same.

She ran, desperately calling upon her Gift to prevent the ceiling from falling on her. Despite every nerve in her body screaming at her to look back, she did not—she faced forward, her path illuminated only by the glowing death behind her as she focused all of her energies on preventing a tunnel collapse, and all of her focus on not tripping. She didn't have the luxury of protecting herself with a barricade.

A horrifying thought entered her mind. What if the tunnel was already collapsed up ahead, and that was why the water was this shallow? *Please, gods... I don't want to die here! Not when I finally have a life worth living!*

Yvain had been staring down below from his point of elevation, a smirk plastered on his lips. First using my family, then using my friends, and now using my sense of duty to help these people?... Well, these tricks won't work on me any longer! He gripped onto his shoulder. The pain will fade soon, just like all these tricks, it has to.

The fire did not scare him, for why would the flame made of Perrench spirit be harmed by these illusions? Yet seeing the manhole plan of escape. These illusions have the weirdest plans. The nobleman raised an eyebrow at the events.

Seviin knew what she was facing the moment that she saw it. She did not have the time to fully complete her gesture, but she began to spread her arms in acceptance. "Oirase Aloi, duul'juu joilii nabex, Seviin leithuul naxii solva."

Then, it hit. It hit and she tried to resist it. It hit and she wanted it out of her...

But she did not. It was sweet and warm and invigorating. It was everything they had warned her as a child: false comfort, a fool's treasure, the harbinger of her ruin come on soft treads bearing gifts. She needed it. It entered her through every pore and she sighed. Her clenched fists loosened. Her heart beat faster. Her senses sharpened. Then, it was over. She doubled over, hands on her knees, panting and trembling. Long white hair hung like curtains to either side of her face and none could see it for a certainty. None could know what was going on inside of Seviin'delaan at that moment.

Both Seviin and the ghost had one thing in common: None could read their intentions. The apparition's eyes were lacking pupils and the expression hadn't shifted a single time. No breathing. No flinching. Nothing. The hair didn't move when it lunged for either women. It was like it could ignore everything in this world and pick and choose what to engage with.

It was not finished with Seviin. After a few second pause where it merely ... Observed, its idle hand rose to chest level in the exact same gesture that had invited the aberration onto its palm. This time, however, the crackling of electricity and a concentration of heat that stole the flames of the tempest behind them incinerate all the dust particles in a meter radius of the palm. From this masterful and incredibly precise molding of energy came a ball of plasma. A small sun, a burning bright star to contrast the black mass it had just purged. The formatiuon of this concentrated sphere of energy was enough to prompt a small shockwave of hot air, reaching even the rooftops where a certain onlooker was doubting the reality of everything he was seeing.

Without moving its arm, the infernal orb gravitated toward the afflicted nun, promising complete annihilation the moment contact was made.

There was a moment where Yuliyah froze at the incorporeal being. It wasn't fear, but assessing her options as she looked at it with disgust. She always had the gift to depend on and when that didn't suffice, superior strength did the trick. Neither would be effective here.

But before she could process that, the ghost had already turned its attention to the yasoi girl. One might call it the actions of an altruistic savior, but not Yuli. All this Seviin girl had done was put herself in the line of fire instead, then greeted it with literal open arms before doubling over. She was an idiot and Yuli cared far less for her than she did self-preservation. Almost reactively, the Vossoriyan took a step back and half pivoted, fully prepared to leave the priestess to her fate. After all, what could she do about it without endangering herself?

Then she stopped. An inconvenient reality came to mind. If this girl died here, someone else would go with her. If not herself then likely someone she cared about who also found themselves in this place. She *had* to save the girl and needed to be quick about it too. The ball of death was getting close to the prone priestess with no signs of movement on her part. "Blyat..." she muttered under her breath.

Turning around, Yuli broke into a sprint and dived toward Seviin sending both into a roll. They tumbled out of the way of the plasma orb.

At the seminary at Aloilii'hax, they had taught Seviin to be fearless. Everything, must she give in the protection of others, for such was the sacred nature of life and her duty to nurture and defend it.

Normally, it was a duty that she did unflinchingly, stoically, lovingly even. At this moment, she wasn't even thinking in terms of duty, love, and fear, however. There was only the sick feeling of having been... VIOLATED. It felt so... good, but so wrong. It was wrong. It was -

She was going to die. Her eyes bulged and her veins tightened and she couldn't move. She couldn't move!!

Then, the Vossoriyan was there and she was not the only one who was putting her life on the line for others. It... saved her, in more than one way. There were some in this vile place willing to act in Mother Oirase's name. Seviin lay there for only a moment, panting. She unclenched her fists to realize that she was bleeding from where claws had dug into her palms. Quickly, she hid her hands. They were healing - already visibly healing - but a good deal slower than they normally might've.

She swallowed, casting about for the wraith and the myriad other dangers, and spoke. "A'lethei," she said softly, voice trembling.

The orb had just barely missed Seviin, saved by a sanguinaire of all thing. The sphere of plasma ended up colliding with solid stone, resulting an explosion that'd propel the two demi-humans further away. The shockwave was strong enough to reverberate through the building Yvain had been idly watching on. A small drop in a vase of countless years that finally made the shoddy foundation of the apartment complex falter.

The Yasoi and the Vossoriyan were not out of danger just yet. The ghost was very much back once some of the dust and smoke had been brushed away via unnatural gusts of wind, manifested a few yards from them with morbid intention radiating from its wicked crimson eyes. It was reading another one of its sadistically overkill assaults.

A loud pop had distracted the ephemeral being, just for a second, as it looked to the side to see the building slowly tipping down toward the road - right above the group. It wasn't seamless like some domino falling, as instead a progressive destruction of the foundation, making it appear as though the structure was melting, with pieces befalling both the ghost and the survivor duo. In any second, there was going to be a chain reaction that'd cause the whole thing to tumble down in mere seconds. With Yvain still on top.

With dust and dirt accumulating in the air, the ghost, while unbothered by the prospect of a falling building, found itself re-orienting its position, from flying slightly higher, to angling itself differently, to downright zipping backwards a few meters.

Why would the ghost even react to what was happening around them? What caused it to retreat? If it couldn't be harmed, perhaps it was perception and a lack of object permenance.

With what RAS she could muster, Yuli snapped her fingers and summoned a small ball of intense heat and magical energy away from themselves and the crumbling building.

The ball did catch its attention, as it siphoned the orb of its energy a couple of seconds after its inception. It could distinguish people from other forms of energy. And with this priming energetic material, a continuous arcane lance was conjured from a new firery orb above its head and sliced through the last known location of the two fallen. It took it a few seconds to prepare its spell, and a second more to reevaluate its aim, but it did attack semi-blindly through the veil of dust.

She was here because there was an agent of the tyrants at work. She was here because it would fall to her to stop that agent, lest the tyrants get their hands on what she suspected lay at the heart of this nightmare place.

It was ever bit the nightmare she'd feared, and the truth was likely that she'd die here. She could feel Exiran's shadow looming behind her at every turn. She recalled the auction fondly: sinking into a mountain of pillows and plushes, snuggling under a warm blanket. Still in her mind's eye were those nights up in Ever Tree with Xiuyang or Tyrel or Miret, chatting and relaxing under the lanterns.

She did not want to die.

I AM NOT YOUR ENEMY, YOU STUPID THING!! she screamed mentally at the phantasm that would not relent in its pursuit. She dived to the side and sprung up with uncanny strength and agility. The moons shone down on her and she could feel it: the power, the mercurial anger, the inyasoi nature of the beast, just dying to tear its way through the careful veneer of Seviin that she had struggled to put up for the past... however long.

She barreled out from under the collapsing wreckage and around a nearby corner. The monster couldn't see them, she realized, her blood bubbling with feelings she would not give into. The monster was open...

Yuli took no spare time in evading the falling building and the fiery assault of the ghost. Her plan to distract it hadn't worked and it seemed more than capable of remembering where they were. In the attempt, it had appeared to feed on the energy she had summoned. Perhaps she was being foolish, they couldn't distract it and run. They may have been faster but they would need to navigate terrain, it would not. They would tire, it would not. No, she wanted to kill this thing and be able to erase any more that came their way.

Once out of the falling debris, she stood her ground and focused on the location of the ghost. The dust swirled, reducing her sensing range and blocking her sight. She spat some of the dust from her mouth and checked on a very expensive dress that had been dirtied in her heroics. But she waited. That thing had feed on it. It was a being made of energy and it had absorbed more. There was an old Vossoriyan saying: anything one feeds on can also be kept in contempt. For the crime of ruining her dress, she would see it starve.

In a short moment, the dust divided perfectly to reveal the creature between lines of smoke. The Vossoriyan drew from it. She took away all the energy she could into herself and with that energy, she dispersed the heat further from it. A being purely made of heat had a natural weakness to one Yuliyah Ilyanova Vasilieva.

It took Seviin a moment to recognize what Yuliya was doing and, having just had one of those... things forced into her, and moons calling her blood, Seviin was at least as strong as the Vossoriyan. She reached out and drew with everything that she had. "Joi nash pa lenthuu j'Oirase'Aloi!" she screamed. "Joilo samiithei nash taalabost!" Eyes bulging from their sockets, she drew. Had she only had her full capacity, what she might've done to erase this unholy thing! "Wes ohmoad," she growled.

The building came crashing down onto the duo fighting for their lives with the specter caught in the rock slide too. With the fall of the tall edifice came a massive cloud of dust that obscured all except the shining, red light that was the ghost. A weakness they were sure to exploit and soon they were going to test out another fault in this being's design.

In the midst of its search, the phantasm's form began to enter a state of flux that progressively had it fade from the material world. First were its red extremities, then the rest got progressively eaten by the two survivors. More than enough energy was devoured in a short span to ensure its form could not withstand existence. The thing shrank in a small halo of crimson light until it vanished in a flash, eaten by two monsters.

It was a LOT of energy, more than they could hold in their reduced capacity. Especially for Yuliya, having gorged herself far too quickly with her enhanced drawing speed. Inevitably, she had been forced to overdraw if they wanted to get rid of this thing. Seviin had struck a better balance with the advantage of starting just a short moment after the Vossoriyan's initiative. Nothing fatal, overall, and a worthwhile trade off to the complete deletion of the ghost's presence.

However, something felt wrong. It wasn't just a sixth sense nagging them. It was that same tension in the air they had sensed when the specter's patrol had crossed paths with them.

Between Seviin and Yuliya shined a small, white light. Bright enough to be blinding if stared at directly. It grew at the same rate that the apparition had been razed from the mortal plane. What was an initially an orb became a vaguely humanoid silhouette and finally it turned into a familiar form. Though it was less feminine this time.

Five seconds. That was the time between the first light and its full reconstruction as a pure white and translucent entity.

It was not of this plane. That was all that Seviin could think as triumph turned to dust and crumbled away on the dead winds of this hellhole. She very nearly cursed, but she had already fallen twice, this day, and a third time would not be forgivable.

She had noticed something, however, and she supposed that Yuliya likely had as well. "Break line of sight!" she shouted in Yuliya's direction, taking a moment to remember the words in Avincian. "We run down..." She pointed to a sidestreet, already moving. "There! Then, we regroup."

She suited words to actions, and Yuliya did much the same. From separate directions, they sprinted for a spot, an idea in their minds. They could not keep up this unwinnable fight indefinitely. It had to work.

Yvain had the benefit of a vantage point and the unhinged mindset of one who did not trust a shred of the reality he saw. Consequently, he could witness the vain battle his "friends" were engaging in. Criticism also came easy as he quickly noticed the delays in the ghost's actions whenever there was a line of sight blocker. He could almost scoff at how obvious it was.

Then came the rumbling. The building he stood upon was crumbling from the shockwaves made by the phantasm. Even if this was an illusion, he could certainly feel it. The dull pain on his chest and shoulder lingered still. With no hesitation and a lack of consideration for his 'life', the Perrenchman leapt off the building as it melted into a pile of stone and dust. Flight was not an option but miniature explosions under his soles were something he had experimented with as a budding arcane expert.

He landed safely atop a broken beam of rock, once again giving him the high ground. There, he saw his two associates taking advantage of the dust. A flimsy cloud was all that kept them safe from the apparition. It wasn't going to be enough. Like the hero he thought he was, Yvain intervened in spite of the mockery he thought this all was. Pebbles of stone in hand, he launched them toward the ghost, only to have them erupt into small clouds of dust surrounding the thing. An extra layer of opacity that even covered the few locations the specter zipped into for a better view until it ascended up high. There, it only saw a big fog of debris where Yvain had drowned into as well.

"This way! exclaimed Yvain as he tugged onto Seviin's sleeve, guiding them to a tight alley he had staked out in his tenure as a critical audience member. Out of sight, dark and easy to miss. There was a lot of clutter in the way, things to hide behind.

The ghost lingered in the air, rotating in a search and destroy endeavor that may or may not even cease.

Yuli rounded the corner with the other two into their hiding spot and tried to catch her breath. Yvain's sudden appearance was a pleasant surprise, although her face didn't show it. If the Perrench noble tried to drag her unprompted into a dank alley under any other circumstance, she would have politely but firmly smacked his brains around until they were thinking straight. But these were not normal circumstances and she was happy to see him. Her dress had already been dirtied into the scuffle anyway, an alley was hardly going to do further harm.

Still, she picked up on some hesitation from Yvain. The way he looked at her felt... off. Was he a bit paler?

"What is wrong? You look like you have seen ghost." She formed a half smile at her joke. "I have seen too many today myself."

Yvain felt a awkward combination of relief and fear when looking upon their unlikely friend. Were they truly even friends, or were they only on friendly terms because of shared acquaintances? Would his companions be in true danger if Penelope would no longer be a unifying factor? However, he could not show such emotional weakness.

"I have just seen some, let's say uncomfortable figures that tried to trick me within that fog." He clasped his shoulder. "These are more than just mental images however."

For a brief moment, although it felt like an agonizingly long quarter hour for Yvain, the world around him darkened into a thick, blueish fog. Seviin was gone and the ghost was a remote issue to be forgotten. There was his friend, Yuliya, in the foreground. The more he stared, the more uncanny her visage became. Eyes that were upside down, a nose far too thin and lips that barely hide those hungry fangs, wanting for seconds. There was no sound, only the fading heartbeat of Elisée.

Yuli had never grown up with much warmth in her life. She felt a world away from those who physically and emotionally let their expressions fly like the artist she had come to befriend. Compared to them, for all the improvements she liked to think she had made, she was left wanting. She felt reserved and unsure when it was alright to show a person care.

Yvain wasn't looking good. For all he said and whatever brave face he could put on, it didn't detract from the paleness of his face, the look of shock, and a reserved pain. At least, that's what she could guess as his eyes glazed over soon after he spoke. This was a look she *was* familiar with. She only recently came to recognise it as one of trauma and the attempts to hide it behind bravado.

Yuli, mimicking the friends who had comforted her in days gone by, gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright, Yvain? You are with friends now, yes? You are safe."

Seviin knew neither of these two, in truth, and so she largely kept to the background, healing wounds with what little she of the Gift she could find here. If the aberration had unsettled her and would continue to do so for some time, she was back on an even keel. She would not begrudge them a caring moment, for she sensed, in Yuliya, a good person: one who would risk her life for an unknown in the form of Seviin.

Still, there was that phantasm present, and it had proven almost completely immune to everything they'd thrown at it. It was evil and smart and yet... strangely dumb. It was no ghost, she felt even more strongly, but something of another world.

"I... second what she's said. We will... look out for each other," the priestess added. "But that... thing is not far away and we understand little of it. If you can move, we should."

Seviin knew neither of these two, in truth, and so she largely kept to the background, healing wounds with what little she of the Gift she could find here. If the aberration had unsettled her and would continue to do so for some time, she was back on an even keel. She would not begrudge them a caring moment, for she sensed, in Yuliya, a good person: one who would risk her life for an unknown in the form of Seviin.

Still, there was that phantasm present, and it had proven almost completely immune to everything they'd thrown at it. It was evil and smart and yet... strangely dumb. It was no ghost, she felt even more strongly, but something of another world.

"I... second what she's said. We will... look out for each other," the priestess added. "But that... thing is not far away and we understand little of it. If you can move, we should."

Yvain showed visible panic as the visage of a companion most dear contorted into that of a monster he could only visualize within his nightmares. "You are a friend?..." He blinked frantically as if he was trying to see through any trickery and illusions this place threw at him.

Yuli was his friend, yet she killed her.. or was it just an image of her? Was this another said trick? Were these two real? "Will you give me a false sense of security just to attack me again?" He looked very pale, yet his expression showed a mixture of both fear and anger. He seemed to be very confused.

The ghost lingered in the neighborhood, a few stories up and ominously illuminated the dark streets of what was once a nicer part of town.

Every minute change, whether a sound or a moving piece of rubble, had it rotate its ephemeral form to acknowledge it. It wasn't jumpy on the trigger as if keen on using its power efficiently rather than effectively.

The quietude did not last. A rhythm had sound it way into this silent realm where death had come to die. A beat that came with a voice, one a bit too remote too easily recognize. The specter immediately noticed it and stared at the direction of the central tower, where the Forge was meant to be. But it didn't move.

Even as skylights hit the dark and murky clouds above, stemming from the Fountain Square they were mean to go to, it did not move. Was this a signal? Did someone or something want the attention?

Then came gunshots, a lot of them.

In that moment, the apparition flickered in and out of the physical realm. Its luminescent coil shifted from red, to black and to white again. Its zipping also became consistent - it was all over the place, often partially within a structure, other times not even standing upright.

"No, I won't." Yuli replied bluntly and firmly, perhaps lacking the comfort the noble had needed but it was the best she could do. Whatever happened to him, it left more than visible mental scars where physical ones were lacking. She slowly retreated her hand from his shoulder to make a show of her lack of interest in attacking him. Seviin had spoken the truth anyway, there was still great danger looming around them. It would be foolish to ignore that.

She waited in silence, watching the ghost, looking for an opportunity to make their escape. But it was dutiful and it didn't look to be going away any time soon. Until the commotion.

Yuli turned her head toward the skylights and the femenine voice singing. From the people she knew joined them, there was no mistaking the two responsible for it. She smiled. Not only did they have a place to go with friends alive and waiting for them, but it also distracted the ghost from its search. This was their moment to act.

She stood from their hiding place. "Come. I do not know if we get another chance like this, but I won't waste it." As she emerged from the alleyway and looked back toward the skylights, she realised that their commotion can't have gone unnoticed by the evil things that lurk this city. She hoped they knew what they were doing.

Seviin nodded, of like mind with this Vossoriyan she was starting to view with increasing respect and fondness. She took off running at a pace that few would be able to keep up with, towards the voice of... it had to be that eeaiko songstress: Kaurah? Kiarah? Keraurah? She shook her head to clear it. "She is right," the yasoi whisper-hissed. "This is our chance. We go now." She forced herself to slow down for Yvain. He was... pretty to look at and damaged right now and... she couldn't resist the combination. "But together, when you're feeling a bit better." She drew as they moved, and cast as well, doing her best to heal whatever wounds were not obvious to see.

Yvain was still hesitant to believe what the others were saying. But the fear of being alone with those things was ever greater than his mistrust, and thus he trekked along with them. "Good.. that's very good." He sighed as his eyes avoided the contorted visage of his friend. Then the words of the yasoi woman slammed into his mind. Feeling better? Has he shown his weakness again? No, no, he was among the strong, of course he would be well. "Like I said before, I am fine." he stated confidently before enhancing the kinetic energy expelled through his stepped with what little of his bountiful RAS supply he could muster.

Seviin blinked a couple of times, wanting to say more, that she, too, was often afraid of appearing young or naive or weak; that she, too, was someone of strength, though of a different variety than most found preferable. She wanted to reassure him that it wasn't judgement, but just... caring, and caring wasn't bad. She accelerated, then, away from one sort of danger.

Yuli didn't slow much but turned back to address her friend. There was a faint look of sympathy in skeptical eyes. "I saw you fall from building and you say you are fine. Why do you lie to me?"

Yvain gave the other a look of frustration back. "And I caught my fall. . . I am fine, there is no lie in that."

Yuli's expression turned to match his. "Soldier men turn to bravado to cover hurt. If you think it is common in Perrence, then you weren't paying attention in Vossoriya."

She turned her head back forward to the direction they were walking. "You don't need to talk about it. But our magic has been taken, I know you aren't fine because I am not either."

The Perrenchman sighed upon hearing the other try to convince him to show weakness. What do they know? They are among the strong.

"Okay, even IF I am not fine right now, I will be fine."

"Fine. She kept her head forward and she kept walking. Whatever had happened, it was Yvain's secret to keep.

The eerie quietude of Halge Larchelon was substituted with a distant beat coupled with continuous gunshots. The beacons of light were drawing closer as the expedition group neared the site while staying out of sight, indulging in conversations born mostly out of concern for one another.

Tension in the air returned and two of them knew what it meant. Except this one came with a sudden quake. Mild, barely capable of compromising footing with dust being shaken off old structures at its worse. Still, there was no smoke cloud nearby, so one what could have done this so inconspicuously? Regardless, the ghost was coming.

But there wasn't just seismic activity and a specter that stood out to Seviin, her senses hitting their peaks after the dose of pure power she had been forced to take and her wildblood traits. A thin, wire-sized flow of energy stood out among the static that announced the arrival of a ghost. A string of pure magnetic energy flowing in a manner she had never seen before under the earth and through the walls. In fact, it was a wide network of the stuff. Her attention ended at a node that served as a sort of nexus.

The ghost manifested just a few yards before them, red and black to indicate its alertness whilst immediately getting a lock on the group. No delay, no warning, it zipped toward them, one arm morphed into a buster blade-like form of pure plasma. The bulb of energy Seviin had sniffed out swelled in tandem with this display of power.

Another, stronger tremor interjected although it did nothing to stop its assault. What did stop was the energy accumulated in the node the yasoi had sensed, inflating into a massive halo of energy until it completely deflated following the earth's shaking. Tension in the air had suddenly disappeared.

And so had the ghost.

Seviin was about to shout something. She was... trying to make sense of the strange power streams, but she was no sort of magnetic mage by a longshot. Then, the ghost disappeared. Seviin froze, stretching out her senses repeatedly and with the utmost sensitivity, to check for any disturbances, any illusions, or any strange phenomena that might explain matters.

There was only one conclusion: the ghost was somehow... animated by that magnetic tether. Perhaps there were other threats here that were as well. The buildings were strange and arcane things, as well as the ruined steel constructs. If their sources could be shut down, damaged, or removed somehow, then they might be neutralized. It was very much like the sap arteries in some of Tarlon's Hax'aloi; only, they did not have singular sources that might be easily taken out.

"I... sensed something," she offered thoughtfully, as the others made what observations they might. "There is a great branching magnetic network running through this place, like the veins of a body." She pursed her lips for a moment. "It had something like... a heart." She pointed. "Down that way. It just flared and went out and when it did..." She trailed off to let them fill in the rest, glancing significantly and gesturing with her chin at where the onrushing shade had just been.

The building in question was as decrepit as any other. No doors had survived and windows had long since shattered. Inside were halls and more door frames, though with some shielding from the unnatural elements, some things had remained relatively intact. Desks, chairs, even some pots, though the dirt had since withered into a sand-like substance.

It was in the lower levels that what Seviin sought could be found, the basement where supplies were once kept. Some could be of use, but most had long expired. What they searched for would have been innocuous at first - a network of pipes connected to a main boiler with multiple vales. Within that network was their smoking gun, or rather literal smoke in the darkness. A bottle-sized metal contraption that had recently exploded was there with sturdy glass and metal shrapnel scattered about. It was still hot and thus easy to track, though the flow of electricity had since ceased.

By the time an assessment of the device could be made, they were not spared from the city-wide siren that followed the conclusion of the concert in the plaza.



The otherworldly shriek beckoned the stragglers. They had a job to finish and some of them did not have the luxury of time. Yuliya, in particular, was beginning to feel that literally pressure more and more.

---

---

The island of Tabu was a remote and wild place, far out to sea between Palapar and Avalu and in political limbo because of it. Politically, the island was part of the former, but it had traditionally been claimed by the kings of Avalu in years past. It was small and mountainous and north of the major trade lanes. Hence, it was not the sort of place that saw visitors... until now.

Two ships sheltered in a small cove as stormclouds gathered overhead. Revidian and Tarlonese, their vastly different designs and wary distance from each spoke to the fact that they were not allies, but the fact that neither had fled or fought seemed to indicate that they were not enemies either.

A gentle rain began falling, wrapped in a cool wind. The air was fresh but heavy: thick and damp but somehow invigorating. It was midday but it may as well have been approaching sunset.

That was just as well. Both ships were here as much for another reason as they were for the storm. In fact, this cove had become something of an open trade secret among those who plied this route. They called it various names in their various languages, but all equated to something roughly similar: The Last Anchorage. Between Tabu and the tangled coasts of Palapar, there was no other place where a blockade runner was safe from the Virangish navy or their Torragonese allies.

Both anchored here as the sky darkened for precisely that safety, and yet... a lookout on one had spotted a ship in the distance with heraldry of red, white, and gold. The Torragonese were snooping. Danger was near.

The familiar creaking sounds of the ship soothed Xiuyang's nerves. The muffled sounds of rain outside were pleasant. If it weren't midday, sleep would come easy. Instead, she was preoccupied with her reading.

—for if an entire people were to believe that the sky is falling because a prophet declared it, would not their way of life change such that the atrophy of that society would be inevitable? Why invest in the future if there is none? So you see, it is not the gods that shape the future, but the faith itself. It is the collective consciousness that determines the prosperity of a nation.

The essence of the divine no longer walks incarnate upon the earth, but in this age, the power to cut one's own cloth and weave one's own future is given to those who believe. If the gods exist, it is in a form wherein their power to perform miracles is contingent upon the acting faith of mortals. To fools, who preach that a man has faith because a god has acted on his behalf, this is known as a heresy called "reverse causality." I call it "Idealized Magic;" that is, magic that manifests itself as a consequence of spreading the ideals once embodied by the gods, who are no longer with us.

For if an entire people were to unite in purpose at the behest of a prophet, how does this differ from bending the manas of an entire nation to one's command? This, I argue—

"What are you doing?" Maria interrupted.

"Reading," Xiuyang replied nonchalantly.

"That old ledger? You're not supposed to read that out in the open, you know."

Xiuyang closed the book—a small, blue leather bound book, with a cavalier hat on the front. "It's the autobiography of a certain Virangish sage who traveled a lot."

"Another dusty old book from one of those dusty old crones you idolize. Most women are happy to stay in one place their whole life, so long as it's... civilized. You should get your head checked... and come move this cargo with the rest of the boys," she sneered.

"She has some eccentric ideas about the Darhannic faith. ...I found them interesting," she replied blithely. "Why do I have to move cargo? Aren't you too important for that kind of work, daughter of Solari?"

"I didn't ask what the old crone blathered on about. You're just the third daughter. Know your place. If that boyfriend of yours gets to handle Company affairs, it'll be because I like him and I allowed it." Her smirk widened. "Now get your fat ass out here. The Torragonese are coming."

Xiuyang stowed the book away in her medicine box and stood up lazily. "You seem chipper."

"Why wouldn't I be? I get to watch those knife-ears lose their shit. As for us... it doesn't matter whether the ship that delivers the goods is Revidian or Torragonese. We benefit either way. In fact, it doesn't matter who wins this war. We are Rettanese. We have friends in Virang and Torragon. We profit until both of them are drained dry, and then we go home with our riches. ...I guess you'll be sad if Revidia is razed to the ground though, since your boyfriend is there."

"So you noticed. I'm so flattered." Xiuyang pushed past her condescending elder.

So rude... You think I don't see you batting your eyes at him? Too bad, he already knows our secret, you bitch. Don't you dare... Xiuyang fumed as she moved their cargo to the deck, where it would be easier to "confiscate" —or toss overboard, should it prove necessary.

Her interest was piqued as her eyes drifted over to the Tarlonese ship. Isn't that... Her eyes met with the yasoi. She covered her mouth, thinking it might make her more recognizable at a distance.

She'd been awkward on the pitching deck: unbalanced. Perhaps it was a microcosm of her current life. Perhaps there was no metaphor to it. Regardless, she was happy that the rocking had ended.

The clouds mumbled vague threats of thunder and the crystalline water shimmered only faintly under a veil of grey. Still, it was that right mix of warm and cool. Still, the sand was a perfect pearly gold powder: soft and light between her toes, accommodating yet firm. She was Tyrel'yrash'dichora and, where others may have perceived a threat to their lives, she would surely not. These people were as insects compared to her power.

Dozens of eyes were on the Avatar of Vyshta as she made her way towards the Revidian galleon, and a handful of rifle sights as well. It was all rather bizarre out of context. Two ships of different designs and nations moored standoffishly in a single cove, not a soul having stepped free of either save this solitary one-legged woman. Her pants were rolled up to her knee and she waded at a rather leisurely pace until the water began creeping up her thigh. After a brief pause, she lifted free of its grasp and hovered there, some thirty yards from the San Cristoforo and one hundred from the Etuulano'iisca.

She took only a moment to consider her words, having been given ample time by her earlier beachfront stroll. "Is that a Solari flag I see on that ship?" she inquired. "Might there be a Solari to go with it?"

Xiuyang lowered her scarf and smiled. "You're in luck. There's a two-for-one deal today. Though, one of them is rotten."

"Don't denigrate yourself like that, dear sister. It's poor form." Maria emerged from below, blunderbuss in hand. "That's a close enough distance to admire your betters from. What business do you have with the captain of this ship?"

Suddenly, Xiuyang reached her hand out and yanked the firearm from her sister's hands, pulling her forward onto her knees. There was a kinetic whizzing and the clanging of metal. The arms dealer watched in scandalized fury as the mere jewelry peddler disassembled her weapon into its individual parts and dropped them on the deck. "How dare you?!" she screeched.

"The leader of a company of yasoi has come over to speak to a company of huusoi. If you cared to know anything about what that means... She doesn't care who's 'in charge.' I'm the strongest huusoi here. Far as they are concerned, that makes me both the captain of this ship and the head of the Solari household." Xiuyang didn't look at Maria, but there was a smirk on her lips. She was enjoying this. "Be a good girl and stay out of the way."

Furious, Maria scooped up the remains of her toy and fled below decks. The crew had mixed reactions. Some lowered their rifles with little surprise on their faces, but others seemed terrified that the chain of command had collapsed because two powerful mages wanted to speak. "How goes the war, suunei?" she asked, as casually as one might ask "how's life?" She beckoned Tyrel aboard.

The moment that Maria spoke, a half-dozen rifles aboard the Etuulan'iisca trained themselves on her form. The moment that Xiuyang made a fool of her, titters and wheezes could be heard from aboard the graceful ship. They were not so very far apart, after all.

Following a few more exchanges, the Avatar of Vyshta floated gently over and alighted on board. "Well enough that they want me out of the way and doing the same thing I assume you are here." Tyrel's eyes darted around the deck and she flashed her best nonthreatening smile. "Thank you for having me aboard," she announced, with a gentle inclination of her head. A bit more quietly and with a slight wrinkle of her nose, she added, "Is that creature truly your sister?"

Meanwhile, there was a slight break in the clouds, rendering the water, the jungle, and the ship's deck alike speckled with sunlight. It was accompanied by an incongruous rumble of thunder and the hooting of monkeys somewhere in the trees. The distant sails of the Torragonese man o' war brightened and shimmered under the sun, closer than they had been earlier. This pair of old friends had perhaps five to ten minutes to catch up.

"So Tarlon has useless politicians now, too. My condolences." Xiuyang sighed. "Yes, it's sadly true. She is my blood. Feel bad for me. Actually, wanna take her on a tour of Yarsoc sometime?" The crew of the ship, which appeared to now be hers, seemed oblivious to the meaning behind the suggestion. "No, no, I'm only joking. Actually... no, I'm joking. I hope you were thinking of me when you were taking out their trash, though." She smiled a bit ruefully. She wondered if maybe it made her a bad person.

"If I start owing you any more favors, it might become a problem, even for me. How about I help you out? We might be able to make the cove look convincingly empty if we start on it right now."

Tyrel smiled, almost... puckish, at the comment, but her expression soon turned as rueful as Xiuyang's. "That bad, huh?" She shook her head and took a half step, a bit of that yasoi restlessness showing through. "I'd lend you my sister, but trading a treasure for a turd hardly seems fair, no matter how much I like you." The playfulness was back, but something still wasn't quite right.

The one-legged woman seemed an awkward thing on the deck of the San Cristoforo, very unlike the graceful figure Xiuyang had previously known. Regardless, she continued. "We could fool the Torragonese, I suppose, though my Etuulan'iisca is but a humble fishing boat. Is not yours something totally mundane as well?" Her eyes slid across the gathered crew and back to Xiuyang, and there was something about the movement that made her think of... Miret! It was her face, as well! While the two bore an uncanny resemblance to each other, save a missing leg, they were not exactly the same. "What have we to fear, then?" she concluded meaningfully, their gazes meeting.

Xiuyang blinked and cocked her head, appearing to question if she herself were quite sane. It wasn't immediately apparent why. "I suppose, nothing," Xiuyang replied blankly. Now, she was quite certain of what Tarlon appeared to be doing here. Interfering in human affairs was quite the paradigm shift, and she wasn't quite ready to decide how she felt about it. She'd decided that Tyrel probably believed in those good intentions Tarlon claimed to have, but their "leaders?" If this was how they were treating Tyrel, then...

Xiuyang pulled over a crate and wove together some spongy material for them to sit on, making a show of ensuring she was comfortable—but, it was really just an excuse to get closer. "Then... what can I do to really help you out? Miss Avatar." She watched the Torragonese man o' war approach as she whispered, wearing an enigmatic smile.

It was nothing so obvious as a sonic bubble. In fact, it was a spell far more advanced: a sonic bend. People who made a point of listening in would hear the pair speak, but not their true words. Truly, was this Tyrel? The missing leg seemed, neither, to be an illusion; it was a genuine amputation.

"I can maintain this for perhaps a minute before people catch on," the Avatar said. "All of this is a ruse, Xiuyang, as I'm sure you're aware - at least in part." She mimicked laughter with her body language but continued, dead serious. "The Torragonese confiscate our cargo but it reaches its destination anyhow." She nodded as she spoke, the contrast between words and action uncanny. "Most everyone in Tarlon believes in the rightness of what we do, but there is a rot at the very heart of our society that only exploits and will undermine all of our good work in time. Laugh as if I've just said something funny."

She brushed some hair from her face. "The people aboard my ship are my captors. They're watching me and ensuring that the Avatar of Vyhsta is dumped ashore, to be caught and humiliated later, to have no contact with the legions of soldiers in the Liberated Lands who chant 'Dichora'. I could kill them, but then I would be killed. I'm not strong enough yet." She pretended to consider something, expression lighthearted. "There is a plan in place to sneak me out. I assume that this was a routine stop for you. I'm sorry you got roped into this mess. Just play innocent and it'll pass you over." She sighed and nodded and the magic disappeared. "For what it's worth, it is good to see you, though. I'll be sure to tell my sister as well. Oh," she added, "and whatever you want to do about our Torragonese friends, I'll follow your lead!"

Xiuyang laughed when Tyrel told her to. Truthfully, it wasn't difficult. To hear that there was corruption in the Tarlonese government didn't surprise her, and the only valid reactions were to laugh or cry. So, she made the easy decision to laugh, because this was not Tyrel, her friends were aware and actively fighting against the political rot, and the correct people were to become the punchline in all of it. There was an unfeigned spark of joy in her laughter as she nodded along to the rest of what she had to say.

"The funniest part is, we're doing the same," she whispered with the tone of someone letting another in on a joke. "Revidia, Torragon, ReTan... they're all Solari hands, anyway." She waved hers dismissively, smile full of mischief. "Trade by any other name is still trade." She turned back toward the Torragonese man o' war, flipping her hair. "Yes. I'm glad to finally meet you again. To be honest, I'm relieved to find that this kind of... pardon the expression, 'humanitarian' work isn't beneath you. You're still the same person who went out of her way to rescue little ol' me." Xiuyang's enigmatic smile returned.

"I'm happy to hear that," the Avatar of Vyshta responded, "and I'm sure my sister will be too. It's all a family endeavour." She rose and cast about, eyes settling on the ship. "Now, much as I'd like to stay and chat longer, I'm afraid my crew will expect me back before our... company arrives." She twisted on the spot and flashed a smile. "It was good seeing you, Xiuyang and, who knows, maybe we'll find ourselves in the same boat sooner than we'd think."

With that, the Torragonese ship, now well in view, began furling its sails and coming to a stop as it navigated the mouth of the cove. it would be mere moments before anchors dropped and boats were prepared. In theory, even as the Tarlonese representative disappeared from the deck of the San Cristoforo, a boarding announcement should've been coming at any moment...

The woman sat back in her chair, brushing her fiery red hair away from her blue eyes. Sea travel had its unrelenting way of leaving everything just a little bit dishevelled, from hair tossed by the wind, clothes rumpled by the sway and roll of the ship. Still, Ayla carried herself with practised ease, as though she were unbothered by such trivialities. She unfolded a napkin at her side, revealing a powdered Lion’s Mane mushroom. Carefully, she poured the powder into her steaming mug of coffee. She swirled the mug, the dark liquid sloshing as it mixed, before she took a deep, deliberate sip.

The meaty texture of the mushroom was an acquired taste, but one she had long since grown accustomed to. After all, there was a reputation to uphold. Arslan women were known for their sharpness, and their ability to stay one step ahead of friend and foe alike. Staying alert, focused, and unshakable was a vital part of that legacy.

She glanced toward the sound of muffled voices just beyond the door. The chatter was louder than usual, and there was a tone of tension that drew her attention. Before long, there was a sharp knock at her cabin door. Ayla set the coffee down, already reaching for her long blue jacket as the messenger entered hastily.

"Señora, sorry to disturb-"

But Ayla was already on the move. She strode past the young man with a nod, her jacket swirling behind her as she ascended to the deck. “So,” she began, her voice dripped with dry humour, “we have a sale on in the cove: buy one, get one free.” The corners of her mouth twitched upward in amusement at her own joke, though her gaze remained fixed ahead to their destination.

She walked to the railing, her boots clicking softly on the polished wood of the deck. Once there, she stopped and raised her hands, forming a box with her thumbs and index fingers as if framing the scene below. “The caption would read: ‘Tarlon’s and Revidia’s secret tryst under the moonlight.’” She tilted her head and moved her hands slightly, mimicking the act of capturing the best angle for a mental picture. “If only there were a way to preserve and transmit this moment,” she mused, shaking her head, “it would do so much good for the cause.”

The messenger, Ruban, hovered nearby, clearly unsure how to respond. He squinted toward the scene in the cove. There were two ships, one Tarlonese, the other Revidian, nestled suspiciously close together under the shadow of the cliffs. To him, it might have seemed like nothing more than an unusual coincidence.

“Ruban,” she said sharply, snapping him out of his stupor. “Pass the message. Announce our arrival and have the men prepare the cannons.” She turned her head slightly, the faintest hint of mischief gleaming in her eyes. “If they so much as think about raising an anchor without permission...” She extended her hand, forming her fingers into the shape of a gun, and whispered, “Pow.” The almost girlish giggle that followed appeared chillingly out of place, and Ruban swallowed hard before scurrying off to relay her orders.

The man-o-war slid gracefully into position, its imposing hull blocking the cove’s narrow entrance. The sound of horns blared, a fanfare of authority that echoed off the cliffs. On deck, a Torragonese officer began ceremonial flag signalling, relaying the order for the two other ships to prepare for the arrival of a boarding party.

The ship’s crew moved swiftly, lowering a small rowboat into the water. Ayla stepped aboard, her commanding presence unmistakable as she positioned herself at the head. Her red hair gleamed in the pale light, cascading down her back like a fiery waterfall, and her long buttoned blue uniform coat was both practical and elegant. It fell just above her knees, revealing a hint of black leggings tucked neatly into polished leather boots.

She was flanked by a team of rowers, who began to propel the small vessel toward the ships. Their first target was the Revidian vessel, that was no doubt carrying cargo of questionable legality. The tension in the air was palpable, but Ayla remained calm, the faintest smirk playing at her lips. She was a predator, a Lion sizing up her prey, and she intended to enjoy every moment of the hunt.

Now, you come to me with earnest please, thought the Avatar of Vyshta. She had alighted on the deck of the Etuulan'iisca mere moments before the trumpets. Count on the Torragonese to conduct themselves with such over-the-top dramatic flair. Her jailors had started begging for their vith'doi, their etuulan, their dichora. They weren't throwing themselves at her feet - foot - quite yet, but they may as well have been by the urgency of their entreaties.

She felt for some of the lower echelons: green recruits, her age or younger and genuine believers in the sanctity of this 'mission'. The others were creatures, and how easily Tyrel'yrash might've crushed them. Alas, the one-legged woman would at least enjoy watching them squirm.

She settled her stump upon the gunwale and crossed her arms as she observed the display. The idiot crew were working frantically to cover up signs that this was a ship of importance. Only Captain Aldenraax and a few key personnel were in on the deeper plan, and none were in on her plan - the only one that truly mattered. Any of them could scupper it with but a misplaced word or action. This could all go south so easily.

For a moment, she nearly got a cold foot. There was a Venomhand - she could smell his blood type - who might decide to be a hero. There were eager young sailors who'd lay down their lives for the goddess. The cache she'd built in Yarsoc and Parmoy now permeated much of the lower reaches of the Tarlonese command structure. 'Finally,' they rejoiced, 'an Avatar of Vyshta who was not just some pretty tripod who waved and smiled and never did much of anything.' She managed an ironic smile at that, but her mind was afire. Please stick to the fucking plan, she urged them inwardly, Or I'll be stuck like this - stuck forever.

They were busy turning the etuulan'iisca into a Tarlonese trawler, of the sort that popped up from time to time in regions such as these, usually just outside of a nation's claimed waters, harvesting the bounty of their shoals. Some aboard hinted that she might blast away those subyasoi desert rats with her awesome power. Some of those were her jailors, but most were the dupes. She watched the boats lower and Ayla step into one, so wonderfully playing the role Dami had now assigned her. She headed first for the galleon, and the Avatar had no intention of doing anything, not unless it should become necessary.

Xiuyang winced at the echoing bellow of the trumpets. Maria re-emerged from below decks, making a twisting motion with her finger against her ear. "They can't do anything quietly, can they? Fucksake." Maria glanced overboard at the approaching redhead. "Looks like she's not a knife-ear. Guess that means I'm in charge here." She jabbed her sister's thigh with the butt of her prized, state of the art rifle, knocking her down. "You ever do that again, I'll kill you. I'm serious as a heart attack. I can still hear their infernal snickering," she hissed. "I just saved your dumb ass!" Xiuyang hissed back.

Maria jerked her head, motioning for a member of the crew to throw a rope ladder overboard for Ayla to climb as she composed herself and prepared to bring her rosebud manas to bear on this situation. Her sister was as hopeless a case as the yasoi, and the crew's impressions of her personality held no weight, but it wouldn't do to have someone of Arslan pedigree see her in a bad light. "Maria Solari welcomes you aboard the San Cristoforo, señora Arslan. It is a pleasure, Ayla darling," she added, much less formally. "I've heard so much about you from my sister, Salome?" She said her name as if asking if Xiuyang was a memorable person to Ayla. Xiuyang, for her part, was quite sweaty and disheveled. "Good day, Ayla," she offered, with much less pomp.

As Ayla approached the Revidian vessel, a rope ladder was lowered over the side. She grasped the wooden rungs firmly, her boots pressing against the hull as she climbed aboard with practised ease. Once on the deck, she patted herself down, brushing off the faint traces of seawater that clung to her coat.

A wide smile spread across her face as she was greeted by the Mistresses of the ship. “No, no, thank you. The customary bread and salt will do,” she said with a polite nod, as she dismissed the offer of salami. She waved it off gracefully before turning her gaze to sister. “It’s good to see you as well, Xuiyang.”

A part of her was quietly amused at the sight of the two women, especially the stark contrast in their attire and demeanour. The difference was striking, yet somehow it seemed to reflect the curious partnership between them, the brains and brawn of the operation? Still, Ayla quickly refocused, and caught herself before her thoughts wandered too far.

“You can imagine our surprise,” she began, her voice light and teasing, “at finding a Revidian vessel sheltering so cosily beside a Tarlonese one. We do hope we didn’t disrupt anything with our sudden appearance.” She let out a soft, playful giggle and added a wink, as if sharing an inside joke with the pair. “Of course, it’s only a tease. We know you would never consort with them. Why, you’d have likely fired upon us to keep such a little tryst a secret.”

Her tone carried an edge of playfulness, but her expression remained disarmingly friendly, even as her words probed for any reaction. Behind her, several Torragonese guards began to climb aboard from the rowboat, their presence a silent reminder.

Ayla turned back to the Mistresses, her tone softening as she spoke again. “Would you be so kind as to offer us a tour of your fine vessel? It’s not every day one gets the opportunity to step aboard a proud Solari ship.” She gestured casually to the surrounding deck.

"...Whut?" Maria replied, not getting the pun. Xiuyang snorted, but didn't seem amused. "Bread and salt? At least take a handful of biltong, my dear." She looked at Xiuyang as if to say, "hop to it."

"Fire upon our fellow Torragonese? We would never do something so crass. Your presence is quite welcome, in fact. Relaxing with their sort around is like trying to sleep when you know there's a spider."

"At least a spider keeps the mosquitoes at bay," Xiuyang remarked as her sister and guest followed her below decks.

"Too true, dear sister! I would much rather sleep with a spider than a yasoi, wouldn't you?" she remarked back with a smirk. In less polite company, she might have dug more deeply into the implication behind those words.

Xiuyang offered Ayla some strips of dried, salted meat. The spices were simple yet exotic. Nothing but the height of luxury for sisters Solari, it seemed. As they toured the vessel, it became pretty clear that all the cargo which was intended to be sold was already on the top deck. Luxuries for the girls aside, everything kept below was essential to the art of sailing and running a crew, only noteworthy in its mundanity. "That is about all there is, my dear. It is nice to have respectable company during this spot of rain, but we really have little else to entertain you with."

Ayla smiled warmly, nodding along as she listened attentively throughout the tour. “You run a very tight ship,” she remarked with genuine-sounding admiration, as she worked the charm. “It’s good to see such expertise out here on the open seas.”

As they returned to the deck, her gaze drifted toward the assembled items already prepared for transportation. With practised ease, she pulled a parchment from her coat and began jotting something down with a quill. “So, these are all the rice shipments destined for Palapar, then?” she asked, tapping the side of one of the crates lightly with the feathered end of the quill.

She nodded to herself before continuing, “As you know, the embargo doesn’t permit Revidian ships near the islands. Don’t worry, we’ll take excellent care of them on your behalf.” She offered a reassuring smile. With a subtle gesture, she signalled one of the guards, who immediately stepped forward to begin preparations for moving the goods, and the quiet efficiency of the Torragonese soldiers left little room for dispute.

Turning back toward the sisters, she fixed her attention on Xiuyang in particular, her smile softening into one of disarming charm. “Your presence here is most fortunate,” she said smoothly. “We hoped to have your assistance in a delicate matter. Perhaps your expertise with the Yasoi could help make them a little… more amicable for what needs to happen next?”

She paused briefly, allowing her words to settle before adding with a subtle tilt of her head, “Naturally, you shall be well rewarded for your efforts.”

Maria smiled pleasantly, or perhaps venomously, or perhaps she was only feigning the latter. She made no moves to stop what was happening, especially the part where Xiuyang was leaving her ship. To be sure, it was her ship, and she intended to own Ayla's compliment, and nothing would make her ship more tightly run than removing their biggest wildcard.

Xiuyang blinked. "Sure," she replied simply. It didn't make much sense, for a multitude of reasons, but it's not as if Maria or her crew knew that, nor needed to. Indeed, perhaps it was better that they didn't. Maybe Ayla had other intentions, or just wanted to talk without the bitch taking the wind out of their sails. Her face settled into an easy smile once she had descended the rope ladder, but she didn't say anything yet. She would let Ayla speak first.

Ayla smiled broadly as she settled into the boat alongside Xiuyang, letting out a little squeal of excitement. “Isn’t it terribly thrilling, meeting like this?” she said, her voice light. “Just imagine, running into our classmates out here in the real world, as it were.” She gave Xiuyang a playful nudge with her elbow, her grin widening. “Of course, that kind of situation has its perks… especially like this one.”

She gestured toward the Tarlonese ship, her tone growing more thoughtful. “Our friend, the Avatar of Vyshta, Tyrel herself, is supposed to be on that ship. She’s the leader of the Tarlonese in this area.” Ayla paused for a moment, searching for the right words. “We need to convince her not to… well, let’s say, not to go Ingrid on us.”

"Y'yash'cud'op ya leth pa'laaz!" Shouted the lookout, retracting his spyglass. "Pa thelo nar'op ya tox tuum," he added.

"Elii?" the 'goddess' prodded, using arcane bending to magnify what she saw.

"Pa yaya," the sailor called back, "Pa taca el'dii'pen duul elaaz."

"Liin," she replied. Xiuyang was... something like a friend. Her sister most definitely was not.

"Nax'etuulan," came the captain's voice, "Yim pa thiilo rey luum vem'al." He bowed stiffly at the waist. Of course, she knew that she was supposed to decline the offer and assure them that whatever happened was the will of fate, so that was what she did. "Qitoip, Aldenraax'tando, cip luum voi'it thuula liing pa weiluu p'edya." Protests and entreaties alike died on the lips of more than a handful of others. The Avatar of Vyshta nodded approvingly and made to prepare herself for their arrival.

Xiuyang watched Ayla's facade melt away like so much warm butter, and she savored the moment as though it were exactly that. "Having the next generation of leaders socialize young is a good way to promote peace. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that Ersand'Enise might be the most important place in the world for maintaining that careful balance. I hope these chance meetings continue to be on good terms."

Of course, "perks" also included the opportunity to use old friends for one's own gain, but it was a little early to wax so cynical. This was the sweet and innocent Ayla, and an ally of Tyrel she was dealing with. The latter had even declined the offer for a favor, ostensibly.

...Oh. She'd forgotten to play innocent and wait for this to blow over, didn't she? How easily Ayla had tempted her into action with the promise of reward. She was almost a little embarrassed. "Tyrel, huh? Interesting. But you know the Tarlonese care even less for 'tree-riders' than Constantian yasoi, right? I'm happy for this chance to talk to both of you, but I'm afraid my 'expertise' is of little use to you. Actually, I owe Tyrel my life, remember?" She pointedly ignored the remark on Ingrid. She had recently been attacked by a demon who had stolen Xiuyang's likeness, and it would be in bad taste to have a joke at her expense.

“Peace? Good. We knew we liked you.” Ayla offered a playful smile as the rowboat cut through the water, its oars rising and falling rhythmically. “That’s exactly what’s on the line here. A historic peace between Torragon and Virang.” She raised a finger to her lips and leaned in slightly, as though sharing a secret. “But don’t speak its name above a whisper, for there are those who would crush such beauty under the weight of an iron fist.”

“The great powers are balanced on a seesaw, each perpetually moving away from the other to maintain a fragile balance. But the danger lies in the beam breaking under the strain, then conflict becomes inevitable. Yet,” she added, her eyes flicking back to Xiuyang with a hint of cleverness, “moving apart isn’t the only way to balance the scales. There’s another option: we meet them in the middle.”

She tilted her head slightly, the edge of a grin returning. “Virang is like a rich man clutching his jewels, its greed knows no bounds, and it guards its treasures with a ferocity matched only by its need for self-preservation.” Ayla clicked her tongue, shaking her head lightly. “Virang has no desire to part with its pearls. And that, my new friend, creates a very interesting opportunity.”

Her hands lifted, palms facing each other as though weighing invisible scales. “Both sides are evenly matched. Guns for guns, mages for mages. No clear advantage on either side. And for Virang, the cost of war far outweighs any potential benefit.” She smirked, her voice taking on a light, conspiratorial tone. “As our dear Maura so eloquently puts it, the price of peace is at an all-time low, it’s practically wholesale. Now is the perfect time to sit down, stamp out an agreement, and bring an end to this looming conflict between our nations. We just need to play nice until the ink is dry, and then a new chapter can begin: one where Torragon and Virang choose peace over war.”

Ayla turned her attention to the Tarlonese vessel they were approaching and gestured toward it with a graceful flick of her wrist. “Which brings us to our current predicament.” Her voice lowered slightly, though it still carried a note of amusement. “According to our information, Tarlonese High Command isn’t too fond of our friend Tyrel. She’s got a little too popular with the riff-raff, as they're practically worshipping her. They’d prefer her rotting in some Virangish prison, or worse, while they find another Avatar of Vyshta to fill her boot. But we have a better idea.”

Her smile widened, sharp and cunning, like a Cheshire Cat’s. “We need to convince her that coming with us, as a free woman, is in her best interest, not as a prisoner of war, not as a pawn in their game. And that’s where you come in.” Ayla’s gaze softened, and her tone grew warmer, and coaxing. “Your bond is perfect. You look like someone who keeps her word, and Tyrel knows you well enough to trust this isn’t some elaborate ruse. She’ll see this for what it is: an opportunity to help her escape their trap, and to protect herself. She can use this to play a role in something far greater than the fate offered to her.”

Ayla gave a friendly, cheerful wave to the Yasoi watching them from the rowboat. “You want in?” her tone light as she turned back to Xiuyang, and added with a mischievous grin, “Your family has quite the network of trade connections with Torragon. We could insist on you being their representative.”

Her gaze dropped to Xiuyang’s worn, dirty overalls, and she shook her head with a mix of bemusement and disbelief, “Your talents are clearly being squandered.”

Xiuyang listened intently, weighing Ayla's words, but without the gesticulating of the other girl. "Yes, making war more expensive than peace is a sound plan," she replied, pretending that she previously had no role in any such endeavor, for she could not afford to make such an admission, even to a presumed friend in Ayla. "A merchant's means and ends are the same in the end. Our greatest enemy is the almighty ledger. Virang adopting this mindset wouldn't be so bad."

Xiuyang made a point of re-checking that, between the three of them, at least one of them had the presence of mind to lend some privacy-enhancing sonic magic to their conversation. "But if it's like you say with Tarlon, it's not as simple as just sailing away into the sunset. They will call her a deserter and she will lose support. Their leaders must at least have the appearance of getting what they want. It will keep them complacent and predictable, because at the end of the day, they don't want to crush morale completely. They will have fewer protests if they can try to pretend that their new avatar is only a temporary replacement. They will set themselves up to either be forced to accept her return, or else betray the one true Vyshta, showing the people who they really are. Checkmate."

“That’s why we might have to fight her,” Ayla said, shaking her head from side to side with an exaggerated sigh. “But considering how strong she is, it might be more convincing if it’s the two of us.” She grinned widely, her expression almost too casual, like someone who had just signed Xiuyang up for a death wish without a second thought.

When they arrived after they had both spoken all they needed to say, Ayla tapped her nose, signaling a shift in the conversation. “...And the sound of these monkeys reminds me of that tall, red-haired friend of yours.”

Xiuyang didn't seem too concerned about her safety, for some reason. But then, it was like she suddenly realized something. "Oi, oi. I have a reputation to uphold, too. I can't be seen betraying the avatar of Vyshta like that!" she hissed. "Kiss all the good will I've worked so hard to earn goodbye, for what? Are you offering me half of Torragon?" she whispered urgently.

But the Tarlonese vessel was upon them, now, and they would have to think on their feet. "Oh, I'm sure these fellows are gentlemen compared to him!" she japed back good-naturedly, though her face betrayed a hint of irritation.

There was no ladder offered. There were rifles trained on them. Energy levels spiked: a warning from the yasoi that they now entered the mouth of the dragon and had best step lightly lest they cause it to bite.

The flank of the large craft loomed above them, its graceful lines scarce disguised by some recent and hasty work. Its gunports stood open. The captain did not step forward. there was the distinct sense that they were unwelcome to the very precipice of open hostility.

Then, suddenly, a familiar face appeared over the gunwale. The woman who wore it was dressed in sheer flowing white and black silks, her blue-green eyes bright and piercing and... more than a bit wary despite the hidden friendliness behind them. "Oira, heicoex," she greeted. "joith ya zexii, cip joi'hiing leth joio'aruuz duul pa seiluu."

An unctuous-looking man in an officer's uniform translated in heavily-accented Avincian. "Her radiance, the Goddess Fortuna, greets you and decrees that you are welcome aboard, but you must leave your weapons in your boat." A particularly close look might've revealed the hint of a blush on the divine one's face. "You have my personal promise that no harm shall come to you unless you should first bring harm to us." She glanced over her shoulder at the captain, who merely scowled.

The yasoi would not have to wait long. Xiuyang was the first to comply, placing Ahn-Dami's Second Chancers on the bench next to her. "Unless her radiance the goddess Fortuna requires that I forego this mortal coil and be with her in spirit, these are all the weapons that I can leave behind." She smiled pleasantly.

Ayla was just about to declare that they didn’t have any weapons when Xiuyang began placing her guns on the bench. Her whisper came out as an exasperated hiss: “Wait, you brought a weapon? Now we look suspicious for not bringing one.”

She glanced around quickly, then an idea struck her. With a theatrical wave of her hand, she gestured toward the man-o-war looming behind them. “Mine is that one over there,” she said, grinning as the flag bearer aboard the Torragonese vessel awkwardly waved back, clearly unsure what the gesture meant.

Ayla turned to Xiuyang, leaning in to whisper conspiratorially, “You know consoi, don’t you? If you can translate anything, it might make us look, you know, less ignorant.” Her expression was hopeful, as if banking on Xiuyang’s talents to salvage the situation.

Clearing her throat with exaggerated politeness, Ayla straightened and announced her intentions with an air of diplomacy: “Torragon welcomes you, distant travellers, and is willing to provide aid for your safe journey back home. These waters can be treacherous, especially with Virangish patrol ships prowling about.” She gave Xiuyang a not-so-subtle nudge, signalling her to translate. Once the translation was done, Ayla continued with a bright smile: “Please grant us entrance so we may discuss this further.”

"Neither of us bringing weapons would be even more suspicious, though..." she replied flatly. Then, at Ayla's insistence that she knew "consoi," her eyes widened. "Uh. I don't think..." was about all Xiuyang managed before she was suddenly thrust into translator duty. She did not, in fact, confidently or fluently speak any yasoi language.

It was at about this point that Xiuyang realized that she was at risk of being made the straight man of their comedy duo, and that just wouldn't do. So, she began translating Ayla's speech... into sign language. A very made-up sign language that very much didn't exist. "I thought maybe they were hard of hearing," she suggested innocently as she looked back at Ayla.

While Xiuyang played the "funny and stupid yanii," though, if Miret paid attention to her aimless gesticulating, there was a pattern—a pinch pattern mixed in with the other nonsense. F r i e n d. It had to be simple, in case someone else noticed. If it could not be written off as a coincidence, it would be suspicious.

Tyrel narrowed her eyes at the fiasco below. The crew glanced among themselves. If the yanii were trying to be disarming, they were... somewhat succeeding. None of them understood much of anything, and so they looked to their Avatar of Vyshta, even the ones who were essentially here to be her jailors and sell her out.

All were paying so much attention to the show that she decided she could get away with the most basic tethered pinch message of all to Xiuyang: <Received.> She twisted to regard the captain and nodded. "Joi'etuulan yim tet yax a duul'elaaz" She stepped back from the gunwale. "Oh," she added in Retanese, for the humans' benefit, "I told them to let you aboard. Pretend that you didn't already know so they feel useful."

With that, she made her way towards the rear cabins, where she would await them and the trio might speak with at least some semblance of privacy.

Xiuyang looked back to Ayla and gave an encouraging nudge of her elbow, like she had accomplished some kind of objective, but it wasn't clear what, precisely.

Ayla outranked her, socially, and this was both yasoi and technically enemy territory, so Xiuyang took point. Only when she reached the deck did she realize that, the last time she was surrounded by so many yasoi, her life had been in grave danger. She wasn't terrified, but she had to be a little anxious. She found herself rationalizing that some of those toothy smiles were approximately welcoming. Perhaps they appreciated her defusing the situation with her sister before it could turn violent. Perhaps her joke about the yasoi being hard of hearing had been passably funny. Perhaps a friend of Tyrel was a friend of Tarlon indeed.

Those thoughts carried her as far as the rear cabins, where she could feel some semblance of safety. "So... We've had our goods confiscated, and we're being sent on our way. It's a shame, I had business with someone currently in Palapar, but what can you do. It's probably much the same situation, here." Xiuyang deferred to Ayla.

“The Tarlonese are like… Torragonese Yasoi. We should feel right at home,” Ayla said with a warm smile toward Xiuyang, who had already taken the lead and climbed onto the ship first. What caught Ayla off guard was the greeting: was that Retanese? Or perhaps Nikanese? Maybe it was Tyrel’s idea of a joke, mocking their earlier, disastrous attempt at translation. Ayla was half-tempted to mimic a few phrases she’d overheard from Ashon but wisely thought better of it; knowing her luck, she’d end up offering her ship in exchange for a banana and calling Tyrel a teapot, or something equally absurd.

As she passed the Yasoi crew, Ayla nodded politely, her smile restrained but courteous. She straightened her posture, adopting the air of a confident noblewoman. With a deliberate, graceful stride, she moved across the deck, her half-lidded eyes drawing attention to the fierce orange eyeshadow adorning her lids, bold as war paint. She carried herself like someone meant to be noticed but not trifled with, gliding toward the rear cabins with measured poise.

In response to Xiuyang’s remark, “We requisitioned goods that no longer served a purpose. Really, we were doing you a favour,” she began, her tone formal and even, each word carefully chosen. She paused just long enough for the weight of her statement to settle before continuing, “Additionally, we may have also… requisitioned you. Your crew was preparing the sails as we docked.” She let the implication hang in the air, her expression unreadable, save for the faintest twitch of amusement at the corners of her mouth.

Then, with a subtle flourish, she lifted a handkerchief to her nose, a seemingly innocuous gesture but one that signalled the weaving of her sonic magic. The faint, invisible vibrations began to shift the air, as she turned her attention to Tyrel, “Our little trick to obscure our conversation.” Her lips curved into a smile, adding, “You’re gesturing as you insult me.”

"Pai duul pa temii'yaya," remarked one to the others, "Eth broas, eth suuuugan, eth broa'soi." A few of them nodded in admiration. Some even bowed their heads.

Then, the Constantian duo was in the Avatar's chambers and Tyrel was sprawled out languidly on a divan, one arm slung over its back. "I am, as you know, very insulting... bruja." She threw in a couple of emphatic gestures before launching right into things. "It's good to see you both," she assured them, expression matching neither words nor tone of voice. "Though I wish it might've been under better circumstances." She straightened abruptly, body language becoming suddenly aggressive. "Oh, and don't mind the crew. They're you're typical brainwashed Tarlonese and most of them are dupes, the poor fuckers. They don't know the higher ups' plan, much less ours."

She suddenly glanced down at her shoe and reacted with disgust to whatever it was that the others were saying. "Has anything changed on your end, Red?"

Xiuyang's demeanor changed abruptly. Her smile was wiped clean from her face, something which may have been satisfying to see if she and Ayla were enemies. Slowly, she paced over to a window and peered back at the Revidian vessel. Sure enough, they seemed prepared to depart, but they hadn't done so just yet. She scoffed.

When she turned back to face the duo, it very nearly seemed for a moment that she had become her sister. Her face bore the same sneer. Do you feel like you're in charge, little cub? her eyes seemed to suggest darkly. Fortunately, she, too, was acting. It was an act, right?

Slowly, she made her way to Ayla's side, as if to whisper in her ear. Her lips moved, but she said nothing. She played at comforting Ayla in response to whatever Tyrel had said. She placed an arm around Ayla's shoulders and ran tender fingers through her hair. Xiuyang's skin seemed to crawl as though there were a chill, but both the cabin and the girl's body were warm. In fact, her hand seemed unusually warm. Still, she retained an absolute silence as the other two spoke.

Ayla raised an eyebrow as Xiuyang moved to check through the window, her formal-sounding tease serving its purpose in setting the stage. Though, soon enough, everyone was playing their part in this unfolding performance. Improvisation would undoubtedly be required, but Ayla felt confident she could weave a convincing narrative.

---

“Patha Lexelei’tet” the yasoi whispered as he squinted with his face pressed tightly against the peephole. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the wooden panel, trying to make out the gestures of the three women in the cabin. The Goddess definitely looks displeased about something, he thought, his mouth twitching in excitement. “toitoi’senii, diiax!”.

The other yasoi gave a low grunt, sitting cross-legged on the floor with one ear pressed firmly against a glass tumbler balanced against the thin cabin wall. His free hand lazily scratched the back of his neck as he listened, his lips curling in a mix of confusion and amusement. They’re talking fast, hhe muttered under his breath, straining to keep up with the rapid conversation. After a moment, he tilted his head and added, something about… horses?. His brow furrowed deeply as he focused, struggling to piece together the torrent of words before offering his translation: “joi labii yashtii’nar’thal”

The yasoi at the peephole snorted, his grin stretching wide enough to flash his teeth. A short joke?” His thoughts practically buzzed with delight, This is already the most interesting conversation we’ve overheard from the Goddess all voyage. His grin only widened as he watched their expressions shift inside the cabin.

Xiuyang’s voice rose, as they listened. ” Irex’ismax yaya joi jam’siin?”, the translator hissed. The yasoi at the peephole glanced toward the Torragonese noble, his grin barely contained. Oh, she’s offended. he thought gleefully. The translations continued to flow: “nash vailgeth”, And then, after an exaggerated pause: “aly vailgeth”.

The translator clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter, shoulders shaking as he fought to keep quiet. Meanwhile, the peephole watcher gestured wildly toward him as Xiuyang moved to whisper to the other yaniii. The other yasoi adjusted his tumbler, muttering through a barely suppressed snicker, “et eliid suuluun broas, He delivered the line with mock solemnity, his composure crumbling seconds later.

This gets better, he thought, barely able to contain his own amusement as the words tumbled out: “Suuluun’dii, nan’dor.”

The yasoi at the peephole perked up, leaning closer as Tyrel looked down at her shoe. He squinted, barely believing what he was seeing. “pa’dor?”, the translator whispered incredulously. As he watched Tyrel stare at the shoe, the next absurd translation came: “ta, nash pa’dor, suuluun yuula dor”.

Wait… she wants her shoe now? Did I hear that right? The two yasoi exchanged bewildered glances, their expressions equal parts baffled and entertained. The peephole watcher bit down on his knuckle to suppress his laughter, shoulders shaking as he tried to remain quiet.

“Joi muul pa etuulan’dor?”, the translator choked out, his voice trembling with barely-contained mirth. The tumbler nearly slipped from his hand as he tried to compose himself. This yanii too much. Too Much, he thought. “Joi geth irex’ismax”. The peephole watcher wiping at the tears streaming down his face as he continued to watch.

---

“We want to help you get off this ship,” Ayla continued, her tone smooth, “and how you choose to experience your newfound freedom is certainly a conversation we are happy to entertain, hopefully to our mutual benefit.” She extended a hand toward Tyrel as she looked toward her shoe. The gesture was deliberate and demanding. As if expecting to receive something.

It was tucked inside of the Avatar's boot. "They will expect you to offer something in return or they will not accept this." She stood and held the accessory out, eyes narrowed and resentful, dignity threatened. "I will walk away on my own, having sacrificed myself for the sake of the ship's survival. It will be clear that I could resist and win, but I will not with an eye to the greater strategic picture and because I can always break out later."

She was solemn as she made the exchange. Nothing had been said about matters going belly-up, so she'd have to assume that everything was in place. If not, Tyrel was strong enough to do something about her impending captivity. Tyrel would've been, anyhow.

Ayla nodded thoughtfully for a moment, slipping the ring from her finger and holding it out as she made the exchange. “We can swap these trinkets back later on the ship,” she said, glancing toward Xiuyang with a small, musing smile. “You could even have an escort to Palapar, if that’s your destination.” She shrugged, spreading her hands casually. “Then later, you could have a nice, heroic tale of a great escape, ‘rescue’ the confiscated goods and deliver them. All we’d ask is to take credit for your capture. Or, if you prefer, we could deliver you to Tanso or another territory you call home.”

She crossed her arms, tapping her fingers lightly on her elbow as she continued. “Ultimately, you’d be free to walk, hop, or jump away as you please.”

Ayla’s gaze sharpened as she leaned forward ever so slightly. “So, what do we need to do to make this work?”

Just as expected, you're not the one, Xiuyang thought as she played with a lock of Ayla's hair. Then, she acted as though she'd grown bored of it. She nodded at Ayla's suggestion, but her words wouldn't match. "The one who captured a Solari? You don't want that reputation. Our family always repays a favor, but it also repays a slight," she replied gravely. She looked between the two girls, pondering.

"We have a common goal, but also our own separate reputations and agendas to consider. I propose a rumor mill approach. Nobody will know what to believe, so they'll just agree with the narrative they like best, which should be favorable for all of us, on average." She looked between the two girls once more.

Tyrel nodded slowly, face becoming pensive. "There a lot to explain and precious little time," she replied. "I can save you the trouble of an elaborate plan, though." If she couldn't smile outwardly, she did it with her eyes. "Follow my lead and it'll all be okay, even if it doesn't look like it."

Outside, the eavesdroppers heard something very different, however. "What sort of imbecile do you think I am!?" roared the Avatar of Vyshta.

"If you insist on making things worse again," came Xiuyang's voice, "then you only prove her right!"

"Do you think us yasoi so simple that I would take a sealing ring and place it on my finger!?"

"You'd have saved us all a lot of trouble," they heard Ayla grumble. "Well, time for the big guns, we suppose, though we regret it had to come to this."

Tyrel turned to Xiuyang. "This is your chance to escape as well," she warned the Revidian before pivoting back to the Torragonese. "Your ship will be hard-pressed to defeat two others in combat. She narrowed her eyes. "Tread very carefully."

"Whoa whoa whoa!" interjected the Revidian, "who said anything about me taking sides?"

Ayla, meanwhile, sounded utterly unfazed. "And who said anything about a ship?" she rejoined.

From the distance could be heard the screech of a dragon, and the attention of all three crews was inevitably drawn to the beast: a handsome - and unusually large - young froabas.

There was a surge of energy and it was not two seconds before Ayla was sent violently hurtling through the cabin wall and off of the ship. "You threaten me, that's one thing. Threatening my crew is another entirely!" The Avatar of Vyshta stormed out just as Ayla recovered from the bone-rattling kinetic blast and came to a stop, hovering above the waves. Sailors scrambled about. gunports opened on all three ships.

Xiuyang stood stunned, looking out of the broken wall of the cabin for a moment before leaping into action. "M-My Goddess Fortuna bids me escape, and who am I to argue?!" she said, laughing nervously as she pushed past the yasoi crew and made her way back to the boat to reclaim her weapons. With a kinetic kick, she sent the boat flying towards the beach bordering the cove and away from the incoming crossfire.

"Part of me hoped it would come to this," remarked Maria with glee. "The Avatar of Vyshta is a fine prize indeed," she mused, leveling her rifle with the side of the ship.

The hammer would release, but the powder did not ignite. Xiuyang would not allow it. She, too, was now aboard the ship, making her way to Maria's position. "Constant interference! I've had enough! Men, this woman is a traitor of the Solari!"

"Maria! I must accomplish my mission in Palapar! The fate of the Solari depends on it!" she roared back, leaving no room for debate.

The crew were confused, aiming their rifles in an uncoordinated standoff. Miret, Xiuyang and Maria all saw the muzzles of hired Solari guns pointed their way.

"...For real?" Maria inquired, as she often did when they were yet children. If the situation weren't urgent—or at least appearing to be so—it could've been nostalgic.

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Xiuyang replied. It wasn't a code phrase, but it may as well have been, between them.

Maria's face scrunched up in rage, but she swallowed. "Hoist anchor like you're hauling ass, boys! Ready the cannons to fire!" she shouted. "...Who are we siding with?"

"...Tyrel, I think."

"You think?"

Xiuyang evaded Maria's eyes.

"Oh, for fuck's sake..."

This was not what we had in mind. As Ayla smashed through the walls of the cabin, hurtling across the surface of the water. Her feet skimmed the waves as she skated backward, slowing to a stop. Thankfully, she was a maestro with kinetic magic, but with all three ships now poised for combat, this could easily spiral into a bloodbath.

She flicked her fingers, amplifying the sound of the gesture with sonic magic. The enhanced noise drew the attention of everyone present, her voice carrying clearly to every ear. There would be no excuse for anyone to claim they hadn’t heard her.

“Tarlonese ship! This letter holds the arrest warrant for Tyrel'yrash'dichora, the so-called Goddess,” she announced, pulling a piece of parchment from her breast pocket and holding it aloft. “Your application to land an invasion force on the human lands of Palapar has been denied by the Kingdom of Torragon. You have one chance to surrender peacefully.”

She gestured to her crew, and moments later, several cannons fired. Warning shots that landed perilously close to the Tarlonese vessel, sending water spraying high into the air. Above, Arman, the red-and-black-striped frobas, launched into the sky, spewing fire into the heavens in an awe-inspiring and intimidating display.

Ayla turned her attention to the Solari vessel and issued her next order. “Under the auspices of the Central Alliance, and in honour of our shared blood, the King of Torragon requests your assistance against the enemy. Train your guns on the Tarlonese vessel to intimidate them into surrender. Should they refuse, commence military operations.”

The proverbial beacon had been lit.

The high howling scream of the young dragon was enough to give everyone pause, but the Tarlonese were battle-hardened, unlike most of their huusoi counterparts. They had fought both against and alongside dragons like this. They knew them, they knew what they were capable of, and they knew that this one was but a juvenile.

"Count on a Torragonese to make this about species," Tyrel's voice rang out. "The people of Palapar are oppressed. We bring them food, training, and weapons so that they might fight their jailors and throw off their shackles. You deny them these boons, lickspittle!" She turned in the direction of the San Cristoforo. "Stand with me, suunei. Stand with me, people of Revidia who have not given up on their convictions. Side with us this day and it shall not be forgotten!"

The last of Arman's blast of flame mushroomed in the sky, curling outwards, cooling, and turning into smoke. Ayla regarded the others enigmatically. The Furia Roja's guns pointed at the Etuulan'iisca.

"You threaten me!" Tyrel roared, "that is one thing. To threaten all aboard this vessel is another. We don't fear your little dragon. We fight!"

Ayla's gaze was intense - serene but intense. "Little? Perhaps you should look again, Goddess."

They felt it, then. The air itself grew heavy. Storm clouds crackled with thunder and the very mountainside seemed to tremble.



Trees sloughed away, dirt fell in curtains, and boulders tumbled and shattered down the slope. An enormous new cloud of dust and soot billowed out from the wounded mountain.

They did more than merely hear what followed. The sky trembled and sails fluttered from the force of the roar. Even the froabas took anxious wing and made haste for somewhere a bit further from the epicentre. It was a volcano in all but literal truth. A gargantuan burst of flame and black smoke filled the sky. Chunks of rock as big as boats splashed into the water.

The thing that spread its wings - for there was no word to truly describe it - was vast and ancient beyond belief. Waves churned and ships rocked and sails ripped from the flap of its mighty wings. With a laboured heave, the enormous elderly dragon lifted into the sky and its shadow rendered fully half of the cove in darkness. Its eyes were clouded and blind and it was slow, but the sheer size was... insane.

"You are not dealing with a simple Torragonese patrol vessel and a bored noble, Goddess. We are Torragon's fist." Ayla raised her voice once more, and spread out her arms as she announced "¡Vamos, Anochecer!" The Torragonese erupted in cheers and war cries. Arman swept nimbly around the cove and accelerated, his spiny tail nearly lashing the San Cristoforo as he whipped overhead.

"Your move, extranjeras."

"Y-You ask the impossible!" Maria shouted back, aghast. Whatever Xiuyang had to deal with in Palapar could never compare to the crisis before them, or the dire consequences of going against someone with the full backing of Torragon's might. "We are leaving, Xiuyang!" she said, leaving no room for debate.

"You see what I'm telling you, sister?! You just try and remain loyal to every friend you've made, and see how quickly you come undone! ...Xiuyang?" she prodded, having degraded to using the name she used when they were children.

"...Yeah. Fall back, Maria." Her sister let out a breath in relief.



What happened next appeared to Maria in slow motion. Her younger sister placed a foot on the rail of the ship, the corner of her lip curling slightly upwards. Maria's eyes widened in disbelief, and, to her own surprise, fear; fear of her own sister. Courage did not run through Solari blood. Who was this person? Was she really little Xiuyang?

I wonder why. Am I so readily trusting of these two? One who is impersonating a friend, and changes plans on a whim with little explanation... and one who changes faces as readily as the Solari, smiling so easily as she tells me she holds all the cards? ...No. It's more like...

Like the spirit of Eshiran had filled her.

She landed in a boat and cut the tether. Kinetic and chemical magics augmented her meager strength as she rowed towards Miret, the very air around her seeming to tremble in unison with her adrenaline-addled body as the dragon flapped its massive wings.

I wonder what Eshiran saw in a little Solari coward like me, she pondered as she looked at the massive beast. Well, me dying here after making a false goddess bleed would be rather poor storytelling on the gods' part. There must be some reason I'm still here.

The dragon roared, as if to challenge such a flimsy notion with every iota of its colossal authority. She flinched as the stench of death blew like a hurricane at her face, whipping her hair back 90 degrees. "Compared to the knower titan or the dragons of ReTan, you aren't so big," she assessed numbly, as if her very emotions had been blown a million miles away by the dragon's roar.

"It seems my Revidian comrades intend to slip away like the Eel," she said to Miret. "I may not be of much assistance, but regardless, I'm still here."

Xiuyang was coming - racing over into peril on behalf of Tyrel. She wasn't even Tyrel! That singular notion screamed at Miret in her head in that moment. She was all in on this plan. It was their opportunity to seize the reins from the mortal Gods who'd held them in a deathgrip for as long as most anyone could remember. It was their chance to save Tyrel and how many other girls and perhaps... even Tarlon. For the love of Oirase, she'd sacrificed her leg for it, even if it was only temporary.

But Xiuyang was a good person: her sister's friend. She was good and Miret hadn't trusted her because she didn't trust Ciro Volta, not since she'd faced him in The Trials. Now, the Revidian was off-script - an easy thing to be when she hadn't been told everything! They'd had so much more planned: A mock fight, a clash of ideals, Ayla's big villain speech, the (completely fake) killing of a well-trained dragon. They'd sorted it all a week ago in Sawand.

"Oap!" she shouted, moving to step forward instinctively. She nearly stumbled. Despite how the Bodybender had changed her - the new muscle in her leg and atrophy in her stump, the imitation muscle memory - it hadn't overridden her basic instincts. "Stop!" she shouted, bucking a second instinct. This time, she strode forward, leaping from the ship and hovering there, toes a foot or less above the water. "It's me you want, right!?"

Yes, she'd have done it for the 'innocents' on her crew regardless. She'd have been scared of the dragon regardless, and found that the sheer scale of the beast in person actually did seed a deep discomfort somewhere atop her stomach. Xiuyang had suffered enough. Xiuyang had dreams enough. Xiuyang could actually get hurt here. Tyrel would not have allowed it. Neither would Miret.

Xiuyang was taken aback, but it might not have shown well on the emotionally stunted expression that was currently replacing what ought to have been sheer terror. Miret's plan seemed to have taken a turn that required swift correction.

Xiuyang couldn't be certain where she stood with these two. Were she and Miret planning something, and in sending a pinch message to Miret, she was letting Ayla in on it? Or were Miret and Ayla planning something that Xiuyang may or may not ever be let in on? Who was in on the true plan, and who was "out?"

Truthfully, she'd felt a bit duped. Ayla had been dragging her along at her own pace, roping her into this so easily right after Miret had told her to stay out. She even seemed to mock her for it. The way she waited for her words to sink in, it seemed more like a genuine threat than simple acting. If it were anyone but Ayla, it would have been, of that much she was certain. Now, though, as she looked up at Ayla, she thought she caught a wink.

Xiuyang wasn't sure if she'd been "in" the whole time, but fumbled the ball at some point, and Miret was acting to salvage things, or if Miret's reaction to her act of temporary insanity was proof that she was intended to stay out of this, but her courage had earned her the right to be "in." Xiuyang resisted the creeping urge to feel relieved as she waited to see what Ayla would do next.

Ayla stood at ease, gesturing for the dragon to hold its position as she calmly raised her hand. Her fingers moved to tap her breast pocket, patting it lightly where the aforementioned arrest warrant for Tyrel’yrash’dichora was kept.

“Are you willing to submit yourself to Torragonese law?” she asked, her tone firm yet inquisitive. Her gaze flickered momentarily to Xiuyang to appraise her, before returning to study Tyrel's response.

The Avatar of Vyshta turned briefly to the captain, gesturing him close and leaning in. "Joi rey p'oilanx,", she said quietly, "qaaleth p'anteiluu. Tyrel tajuup de'loi sil tuumo hyco soiyan seth eyda nax muul.". She pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "Pa metaar eleiz pa tiiro siizuu. Senas soansoi el'yca tuu jey ytiic eleiz et rey voi Tyrel pen..." She shrugged. "Leiz pelosh nax se pa zoap sil pan yashtiil'cudop loi yecan Tyrel'o coleth."

It was only a few seconds. She turned to face Ayla. "An artful evasion of my question. I recognize no laws of Torragon in the waters of the sovereign nation of Palapar, but I do recognize a threat to people who've done you no ill and the means to carry it out." She projected her voice. It was best that this carried. "Say you attack, elar. Maybe I die. Maybe you die." She levered her gaze up to the massive hovering figure of the dragon. Despite its gargantuan size, its flying appeared laboured at the best of times. "Perhaps that great terrifying relic of yours expires as it probably should've a couple centuries ago." She shrugged. "Either way, plenty of the little people die: mine, yours..." She gestured in Xiuyang's direction. "Maybe Siin Solari's." She shook her head. "So, I ask you once again: Is it me that you want?"

Her crew remained ready, guns trained. Nobody seemed to be backing down, at least... not yet.

Xiuyang looked exhausted, like the adrenaline spike of facing a dragon had been the last straw in a long line of exhausting things that had happened on this journey. Her sister was surely responsible for most of it. Somehow she had managed, barely, not to snap at Ayla earlier.

Most exhausting of all was the dance of keeping one's dignity intact while acting in everyone's mutual interest. Is this what bureaucracy feels like? Maybe this will work if I capitulate first. "Does the said Torragonese law..." she began, with some semblance of courage. "Afford the daughter of Solari and her very close friend some small dignity, as political prisoners? If not, that would be quite unfortunate."

She hated it: the subtle jabs and warnings required of their stations. If she was intent on marrying Ciro, she would have to take these responsibilities seriously, but she didn't have to like it. If she were forced to be born into a family of snakes, she'd much sooner choose to wear bright colors rather than bare fangs, hiss and rattle her saber.

Ayla smiled as she held out her hands. “These are contested waters, but if you truly wish to surrender to Virangish law, we can make those arrangements, and you can petition their inquisitor directly for fair treatment. However,” she continued, her tone deliberate, “as the arbiter of Torragonese law here, we can settle this here and now.” She gave a subtle wink, gently encouraging the latter option, before turning to respond to Xiuyang’s question.

“Political prisoners are treated well for good reason. Their release is negotiated directly with their nation or a suitable representative, usually in exchange for a ransom fee or an appropriate concession,” she explained matter-of-factly. Gesturing toward Tyrel, she added, “As the third daughter of a prominent trading family and… a very special friend, you would receive comfortable quarters and treatment befitting a prisoner of noble standing.”

Ayla then turned her attention back to Tyrel's initial question. “We will take both of you. We see no reason to involve your... fishing boat, provided the crew agrees to return home.”

A drop of sweat rolled down Xiuyang's cheek. "I got an A+ answer straight from the textbooks. I'm glad she's studying," Xiuyang quipped, low enough that only Miret should hear it. "I'm not sure if my assessment of the danger here is, ah, entirely accurate. I would like to not die, for what it's worth."

The Avatar of Vyshta's voice sunk low to match Xiuyang's. "We've had to improvise a bit, but don't worry. This is all according to keikaku." She considered. "'Keikaku' means 'plan' in Nikanese." There was a momentary pause and a note of sincerity to follow. "I'm, uh... sorry you got roped into this, suunei. Thank you for playing along. It could mean everything, for me and T-Miret." She smiled weakly. Then, she turned to Ayla. "I'm the big fish you want. Take me, give her a good slap for being where she shouldn't, and we don't need to test who's got the scarier weapons, luuca?" Nimbly, she hopped up onto the gunwale, the wind taking her hair and her robes and making them dance. "That's my offer, amiga." She spread her hands. "I'm all yours if you take it, or we try to kill each other."

Ayla looked thoughtful as she watched the figure before her subtly manipulate the air pressure, causing her outfit to dance precisely as she intended. Nice touch, she mused. “You’re ours,” she chimed back, before glancing down at Xiuyang. “And a slap? You’re going across our knees.”

She tossed a pair of cuffs toward the two, letting them land on the little rowboat. Then, with a quick gesture to the ship behind her, she signaled for the anchor to be taken up, allowing the Tarlonese vessel to pass.

“Business concluded: one avatar and her friend, in exchange for a Tarlonese vessel’s safe passage home.”

"And a Solari vessel's safe passage," Xiuyang reminded her as she snatched the cuffs out of the air. And I'll get that reward you promised out of you, one way or another.

She turned to Miret, her face slightly unsure if she would consent to having her hands cuffed. "If she follows through on that threat, I don't mind if you blow up the ship," she whispered, deadpan.

The Avatar of Vyshta raised her hands. "Sadly, if I wear your huusoi symbol of confinement, I do not walk." She suited words to action. "You will have to trust me." She saved a small smile for Xiuyang - "If she does, I will." - and then it was a done deal.

The dragon settled on the mountain, its landing a tenuous affair until it finally let out a relieved puff of smoke and returned to quiet watching.

The Etuulan'iisca did not depart the bay, however. A rather fierce wind had whipped up and, after a few fat drops to speckle the decks and sails of the three ships, the rain came down in sheets and lightning flashed across the sky. A long tired moan echoed beneath the thunder and rainfall from Anochecer behind the mountain.

Beneath the umbrella of this energetic barrage, there was much that could be concealed and, perhaps, much to conceal. It went on for a good couple hours before it cleared, as tropical storms always do and, by that juncture, Oraff had given way to Eshiran and the jungle steamed as shadows stretched across it.

It was under this sky that two of the three ships: the Furia Roja, and the Etuulan'iisca parted. If each could each claim a victory of sorts, either openly or in secret, the San Cristoforo had left earlier, as the storm was still dying down, merely an unfortunate interloper mostly - though not wholly - let free from the noose and eager not to have to face it again. Finally, the Furia was alone.

“Well, that almost got a bit too exciting for our taste.” Ayla plucked a cinnamon-sprinkled churro from the pile on the sharing platter set beside the three of them. “We were worried you were really going to make us fight out there on the water.” She took a bite, chewing happily as her eyebrows rose in delight. Gesturing toward the others, she encouraged them to indulge while they sat comfortably.

She turned to Xiuyang. “So, Palapar is your destination? We can arrange to drop you off.”

"Yeah. Anywhere you can conveniently lose track of me without losing face is fine. I'll just tell my father I stowed away on your ship, and it can all be swept under the rug." She bit into a churro and chewed it just a bit too long, as if the act could produce thought. "You can rest easy. My business here has nothing to do with Palapar itself, or the war. I just had really bad timing to run a very urgent errand."

"Had to put on a convincing performance," Miret replied with a shrug, "And you were totally fuckin' method acting." She took a bite of one of the pastries and rolled her eyes. "Tica!"

Then, Xiuyang spoke, and her curiosity couldn't help but be piqued. "Do tell?" She leaned in conspiratorially. "What secret nefarious dealings are you up to these days?"

If she understood the plan, they would soon be at their second rendezvous and that was the make or break moment. Much of what had already occurred had done so with more official support, but they were now about to enter waters charted only by themselves. All the better to talk and learn and enjoy the company until that time, if only to reassure herself of the plan or at least take her mind off of it.

"Well, when you put it like that, how can I possibly live up to your expectations?" Xiuyang replied with some humor. "I need to exchange correspondence with someone I also need to apologize to. If they know I'm here, they'll probably try to avoid me, so I'll just have to find them. You'll have to figure out who it is later."

If it was someone Xiuyang could find easily, they were probably someone of significance. She had apologized to Penny, of all people, in person, so even though coming all this way to do that seemed absurd, maybe it was actually true.

Ayla winked at Tyrel before turning her attention to the other conversation.

“It’s a long way to go for an apology,” she mused. “If they’re a student, you could have simply waited for them at the academy.”

“We’ll be reaching the second rendezvous point soon enough to offload these supplies. You can travel with them, Xiuyang, we believe you’re well acquainted with the captain.” She turned to Tyrel. “And you? Have you made your final decision?”

'Tyrel' tilted her head to the side an arched an eyebrow. "Was I ever really going to choose otherwise?" She took a deep breath and nodded. "Let's do this."

Ayla nodded as the three of them continued to talk and dine, the day gradually giving way to evening as the moons began to rise. Each of them moved freely about the ship without much interruption, enjoying the calm.

It was during one of these quiet moments that the ship came to an unexpected stop, steady and slow, but still otherwise unplanned for the pair. The night crew had begun organizing the confiscated cargo onto pallets for easier transportation.

Ayla sought out Xiuyang and gestured for her to follow. “It’s time,” she said with a smile, leading her to the deck, where something unexpected had made its appearance. Well, less of a ship and more of a…

“Olá! Você está sendo convocado para a companhia Arslan-Mercador pelo restante desta viagem. Bem-vinda!”

Xiuyang was greeted by a familiar face near the cargo hold of the submersible. The auburn-haired girl smiled brightly at her. “You can start with some of these pallets. Did you really have to pack so much rice? I guess the Palapeese won’t be going hungry,” she joked. Around them, the unusual and varied assembly of puppets typical of Maura were assisting the crewmen in transferring the goods aboard.

“We would’ve asked Tyrel to help, but, we know… free hands.” Ayla gave a shrug and mimed holding crutches with her hands. “She’s already on board and ready to go. The faster we finish, the sooner we can depart.”

With combined effort, the submersible was finally loaded, and the Schwarze Alice set out, leaving the Furia Roja behind under the cover of the night sky, as Ayla waved them off.

As soon as Xiuyang heard the voice, she threw her head over the rail and looked below. Her face was in shock, looking at the strange craft, but then she smiled. "It's a fine surprise, Ayla. I like it." She waved eagerly.

When the work was finally done, Xiuyang wiped her sweat and offered Maura a hug. "It's good to see you, Maura. How are you faring these days? I know trade is unforgiving right now." She looked tired, but happy.

Maura accepted the hug. “Welcome to the crew,” she said with a wink, “albeit temporarily, we fear. You really should come over to this side, we’d treat you better.”

Answering the question, she added, “You know how it is. Rule 34 of the manual: war is good for business.” She patted the confiscated goods from the San Cristoforo and placed a finger over her lips in a shushing gesture. “But we like to think of it as redistribution of assets.”

Maura led the way to the shared space where Tyrel was already seated. “Still, we never thought so many people would want to be smuggled onto the island. The demand almost rivals that of those trying to get off it. What brings you there?”

Miret Tyrel did her best to help anyhow. Now that she considered, it, it did feel strange, not being able to reliably carry things. She had the Gift, though, and that would suffice, so she busied herself, for idle hands were Levidan's workshop.

The thing was that she didn't really know these people. They were friends of people she knew well - people she cared about, and she was comfortable enough with them, she supposed, but anxiety still gnawed at her nerves over the entire situation: the great gambit, the adaptations on the fly, the prospect of someone turning coat or an enemy getting wise or the entire thing just going awry somehow. Plus, it would've felt strange to just butt in conversationally between friends and classmates. She said her polite hellos and followed along like a little one-legged duckling.

---

Tyrel was itching to get out. How she was itching! She had paced, rocking deck and all, almost since the moment that she had been put aboard. Given enough time and opportunity, she might've actually worn grooves in the floor where she'd been walking. Now, if these precious yaniis would just... truncate their smalltalk, she was mere moments from release, from seeing a loved one for the first time in over a month. She stood and stretched for at least the third time, performing a final check of her rucksack, her pockets, her satchel, and the pouches strapped to either side of her thigh.

She was as ready as she'd ever be.

"I know you would, Maura. But as they say, home is where the heart is." Her smile was weary. "I'm here for the same reason you are. Business. I'd like to get it over with as quickly as possible, so I'll be one of those waiting to leave before long."

The submersible craft reached its destination, the girls emerging onto the scene of Torragon's own covert operations in Palapar, evidence all around them that they too were supplying the rebels with weapons, rations and funding. If anyone gave Xiuyang a second glance, her simple air of having known about this all along caused questions about the Revidian's arrival to fade away into irrelevance. The more stubborn types would have their questions answered by Maura. There was always at least one self-important supervisor on any scene.

"I suppose here is where we part ways, suunei," Xiuyang said to 'Tyrel.' "I'll look forward to meeting you again. It's nice to have such loyal and reliable friends." She smiled enigmatically and winked so quickly that it could have been dismissed as an involuntary twitch of her eye. Had she realized it?

She checked her pocketwatch, and turned to leave. She really did seem to have no interest in how the supplies Ayla had confiscated were going to be distributed, intent on going on into an uncharted path through local foliage on her own. Though, it also seemed like she was heading in the same general direction. Did her business involve a student from Ersand'Enise as well? Perhaps even Zarina?

She hadn't gotten much of a chance to speak with the yasoi as they'd surfaced, and so the last bit was meaningful. She'd been below decks, speaking with someone and changing outfits, apparently, and she'd only reappeared right as they were surfacing.

Now, as they moved, Tyrel'yrash seemed, somehow... nimbler than before. She bounded after Xiuyang, dressed in a simple white blouse and black leggings, very much not the Avatar of Vyshta. "Relax, you lil' yaya!" she called, striding over a fallen log and catching up. "Thought you'd get rid of your 'reliable friend' so easily?" She elbowed the smaller woman playfully. "I was just adjusting this Oirase-damned backpack."

She breathed in and out deeply and released the last in a sigh. "Damy, I feel so much lighter already." She shook her head and there was an indelible grin on her face to match the bounce in her step. She weaved unnecessarily in and out of the undergrowth, hopped up on rocks and logs, and peered down every little side trail. It was, in all, a textbook example of yasoi nature on display.

"It's you and me, suunei," Tyrel chirped, as they made their way through a set of picturesque ruins, "all the way to..." She pursed her lips in thought for a moment. "Just north of Kalingnan, I think." She hopped a step as she patted a rolled up parchment strapped to her backpack. "It's in here anyways." She nodded, resuming her normal gait. "I have all our stops planned out, by the way, and backups." She rolled her eyes. "Shiin knows I had nothing else to do in that cabin forever."



Xiuyang giggled, in a manner that was almost unlike her. She'd really cheered up lately, and it showed in her bright smile in moments like this. "I was talking about Miret, being your reliable friend. Not just anyone could take someone else's place and face danger in their stead. I wonder if I could do that sometime," she joked. Tyrel was one of the few who could appreciate the joke, since she knew her secret.

She had to speed up to keep pace with Tyrel's nearly boundless energy. "I'm glad one of us has a plan. I was just going to rough it," she replied, surely joking as she always was. She was a Binder, she had her little medicine box, and she'd survived in Yarsoc on her own for a while... but still, letting the little yanii wander off into the jungle on her own might be a bit much. "Gonna show me just how reliable you can be then, suunei? I'll tag along as long as you'll have me."

"Well, now that you mention it..." Tyrel considered, "We could probably use a fake Miret." She grinned, only half joking. "Might require a bit more commitment to play my part, though." She quieted a bit after that, but it wasn't a melancholy silence. Pensiveness changed to peace, and peace to the steady repetition of footfalls and chittering of a hundred birds in the trees.

They continued on in good-natured silence for a bit, the yasoi traipsing through the forest like an excited child, twisting on the spot every once in a while with either an expectant glance, hair flick, or grin over her shoulder. The sun-dappled path continued indefinitely as shadows stretched and mosquitoes began to buzz about.

All at once, Tyrel came to a stop, resting her stump on a crutch handle and swinging her pack from her shoulders. She pulled out and unrolled the map, biting her lower lip in concentration and tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. "You any better at reading this than me?" She looked hopefully to Xiuyang. "Are we actually as far as it looks?"

Xiuyang had to jog to keep pace with Tyrel, something she had fortunately made time to do most every morning and evening at Ersand'Enise. Doing it with a friend in an unfamiliar place was invigorating, and her excitement was infectious. This energy, this is why she enjoyed hanging out with the yasoi so much. They had a love of life that she had desperately needed to find herself, back in those days, and it was still just as welcome now as it was then, even though she was doing better now.

Suddenly, they both stopped. "Uh, maybe? We did run a bit." She inspected the map, and their surroundings. She did take a cartography class once, though she wasn't exactly used to this sort of land navigation. She was more of a "navigate by the stars" kinda girl, having essentially grown up on the sea.

She tried measuring something with her fingernail. "I think we're... good. Yeah," she said, her confidence founded on almost no knowledge whatsoever.

Tyrel continued to nibble her lower lip for a moment, eyes flicking down the trail evaluatively. She shifted on the ball of her foot and shrugged. "Think we can make Angkidnon by sundown?" The way that she was already starting to roll up the map, stump sliding off of her crutch handle, told Xiuyang that the yasoi had already made up her mind.

She tucked the roll into one of the bag's pockets, slid her forearm through the crutch's cuff, and was moving. "What's that huusoi song about the ninety-nine bottles, again?" she inquired with a hint of mischief and a bounce in her step. In truth, "Surely, we can make it there before we finish, no?"

Xiuyang giggled heartily. "I'm sure we can. That song is longer than you think. Nobody ever finishes it, even at sea. Someone always gets bored and starts singing something else."

Tyrel arched an eyebrow. "That sounds more like a wager, suunei." She winked and, with only a little more discussion, they were on their way. Thus began...

---

---

---

---

It was decided that, should Tyrel actually managed to finish the infamous "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall," Xiuyang would fess up and tell her the real reason why she was in Palapar. Thus began the sprint to that last bottle of beer, and the closest town. To Xiuyang's slight embarrassment—but only slight—Tyrel ended up slowing down for her on multiple occasions. As dusk neared, they were accosted by a very large herd of goma cats. While Tyrel attempted to scare them off by creating the illusion of a coming storm—complete with sound effects, no less!—Xiuyang took the much more straightforward approach of using the sound of her twin pistols, now her favorite weapons by far. Having proven her worth as a companion, she took the lead over Tyrel's pace as they arrived at a camp of locals, which they stealthfully approached.

"Twenty-two bottles of beer on the wall, twenty-two bottles of beer..." Tyrel whispered as she ducked behind the underbrush. "If one of those bottles should happen to fall..."



One of the drunk men sitting around the fire dropped his jug while trying to pass it to another, causing everyone to go on alert. A man went to investigate, or perhaps take a piss. Tyrel silenced him with a sonic bubble while Xiuyang knocked him out with chemical magic. "Twenty-one bottles of beer on the wall," she continued, holding her hand up for a high-five. It was then that Xiuyang realized something. "...Can you understand what they're saying at all?" "Twenty-one bottles of beer." Tyrel replied, pursing her lips and shaking her head. Xiuyang was trying to get her to slip, she knew. Xiuyang repsponded with a facepalm. "Me neither. Let's leave."

"Twenty bottles of beer on the wall," Tyrel whisper-sang, "twenty bottles of beer. If one of those bottles should happen to fall..." She looked over expectantly at Xiuyang as they walked, grinning and hopping a step as she pointed finger guns at her shorter friend. Xiuyang narrowed her eyes. "You're really gonna do it, huh?"

Tyrel waited, drawing out the final note until she ran out of her breath and continued to hop sideways. She had to be made wholly of springs and enthusiasm. Finally she scowled, took a deep breath, and continued. "Nineteen bottles of beer on the wall!"

They continued down the path in this manner until, suddenly, she stopped dead in her tracks. She twisted about and pulled a piece of paper from it, "Seventeen bottles of beer on the wall..." she murmured as she wrote with a lead. "Seventeen bottles of beer." Her finger tapped idly in time with her singing even as her face remained a mask of concentration. She fliped the note over: Angkidnon for the night, or press on to Tebu? It's only 3 more miles... "Let's not push our luck. We might run into something worse than goma cats." Tyrel shrugged and offered a thumbs up.

Now, the lights of the town—lamps and hearths, mostly—were well within sight, and Tyrel began to falter, or so it seemed. "Eleven bottles of beer!" she huffed. "If one of those bottles should happen to fall," she puffed, slowing down to a fast walk from her previously bouncy jog. They didn't even notice the sign as they skipped right past it.

They reached the outskirts of the town: the darkened silhouettes of huts and thatched-roof houses rose into the night. They could see breaks in the trees with terraced fields and, as the terrain continued to rise, the sparkling waves of the increasingly distant ocean. "Eight bottles of beer on the wall..." Tyrel panted, starting to fall behind in earnest now.

Then, the yasoi stopped dead in her tracks, gripping her crutch handles tightly. "Five bottles of beer on the..." She trailed off. Hanging from the tree were three corpses, hung by their necks and being picked at by coconut crabs and crows, and a fiddler monkey. "Holy shit," she whispered. "Sooo... maybe Tebu after all?"

"Uh..!" Xiuyang backed off from the sight, clearly shaken. "Fuck. Yeah, let's scram." She'd seen pirates get picked at by buzzards before. These corpses were relatively fresh. "I'd rather deal with a predator than a mob."

Around the necks of each corpse hung a sign. They all seemed to have different writing on them. Tyrel paused, not yet noticing that she had broken her half-hour's worth of singing. She furrowed her brow and tried to make sense of it. The people seemed unremarkable: two men and a woman—they didn't look related either—fairly well-dressed. Surely, there was more to know. The yasoi, however, nodded in agreement with Xiuyang. "We should skirt the edge of town."

Xiuyang wasn't willing to get close enough to the crabs to inspect the signs, but she did see them. "Their crimes are what's written there, probably. Definitely not sanctioned executions though." Tyrel was fixated, however. "Poor fuckers," she murmured, shaking her head. She started moving again. "But not something I'm too eager to get involved with." Incidentally, she was walking just as quickly now as she had earlier, before beginning to tire. Then, for the umpteenth time today, she stopped dead in her tracks. "You know... if they catch us slipping past in the night, it mike actually look worse than if we just pass innocently through on the road," she decided.

"Maybe, but can you speak Palaparese? I doubt they'd take kindly to my Virangish." Tyrel bit her lower lip. "I know a few choice phrases. I understand a bit." She swung her stump restlessly onto a crutch handle and fished something from her seemingly-bottomless pack. "I had a week to study on that boat and we're both clearly foreign..." Xiuyang looked pensive, inspecting her colorful merchant's clothes. She seemed to be thinking that she looked more like those corpses on the trees than the locals. "Fuck it. If they get aggressive, we just draw and they'll get the idea. Right?" Tyrel pondered for a second. "Heh. I didn't think of that." She blinked. "Well fuck me sideways. I don't think there's anyone who could take you, suunei." She grinned and strode forward. Xiuyang rolled her eyes. She'd been told she was strong, but she didn't feel like it, especially not lately.

They went in and the entire town seemed to be near-empty. Tyrel had starting talking about a past adventure of hers, just to fill the silence and to make it clear that they weren't up to any skullduggery. "So, anyway, there I was: five alligators to one side and lava to the other." She paused for a moment, considering. "Well, actually, I think one was a crocodile—poor lonely little guy—maybe that explains his behaviour." She tucked some hair behind an ear. "Anyway, so: those five in one direction and the lava getting closer and all I had were my crutches and the clothes on my back and—" She paused and a silence built. "Hey, suunei... I can practically smell the reek of self-doubt on you." For a moment, there was only quiet and footsteps. "What's going on?"

Xiuyang had been quietly giggling along to Tyrel's obviously made-up story. The rabbit trails, like one of the alligators being a crocodile, were just so charming. "Huh?" The abrupt shift in topic caught her off guard. "I was just thinking that I don't feel so young and indestructible anymore. Seems like everywhere I go, there's someone or something that would give a Zeno a run for his money, and I'm just... me?" She shrugged. "But I feel safe with you, and I'm happier now than I ever was back then."

Tyrel walked along beside her thoughtfully. "It's funny, you know." She shook her head. "I've always been a happy person." A handful of people peeked out into the street, but there weren't many about after dark. "I don't why." She shrugged. "I spend so much of my time being solemn and serene, strutting around in a fuckin' golden bikini that I guess I just have to laugh at myself or I'd go nuts."

A head or two poked out. The silhouette of a child dashed across the street in the distance. "I just can't wear the mask all that well," she admitted, "so I don't." She rolled her eyes. "Shiin knows I'm infamous for not taking my duties as a goddess seriously." She glanced Xiuyang's way and her voice dipped a little bit. "But I think I do, you know." She shrugged again. "I do my best. I never asked for this... role that became 'me'."

They continued for a moment as some sort of light in the distance seemed to perch at the edge of the road. "I guess what I'm saying is that people like you—" She paused. "No, you, literally—make it a helluva lot easier. You keep me yasoi. You remind me that I can have fun and not be judged for it." She let out a breath that she didn't realize had been building up until then. "So... thanks, I guess, for being a suunei."

Xiuyang nudged Tyrel's arm with her fist playfully. "You're a cool person, Tyrel, and fun to be around. It's so infectious. Goddess or not, I'd want to be your friend." Her smile was a light in their dark surroundings. "Maybe it's a bit different for me, but I know how it feels to be sick of wearing a mask. I tried to yuk it up too, even if I had to fake it. When that didn't work, there was always booze." She took a sip from her gourd, which she hadn't done in a while. "I always hoped that yasoi energy would rub off on me, I guess."

Tyrel delivered a little hip-check. "There's your rub." Or maybe it was a 'kick' with her stump. It was hard to say. "The tug'll cost you a premium," she joked, holding back a shit-eating grin. Squeezing Xiuyang from the side, she hopped up and strutted ahead, before spinning halfway on the spot. "But not much. I have such a girl-crush on you." She took a moment to flick some hair over a shoulder before turning her attention to the trail ahead.

"Anyway, things look..." There were figures rushing back and forth and so Tyrel'yrash reached out with her energy senses. "You know, actually, speaking of booze," she added, in an intrigued voice, "I think a... distillery? is on fire." She glanced back with eyes that seemed to say, 'should we?'

Xiuyang raised a brow, then blew a raspberry, taking it as a joke. "Pfft." She too tried to sense out with the Gift when she felt Tyrel doing so. "Seems someone kicked over the chamber pot. Do you really want to investigate?" She gave her a curious look, like she was wondering if it had anything to do with Tyrel's reason for being here.

The yasoi twisted to regard her. "I'm headed somewhere for something... just so unfathomably... important that I don't even wanna think about it," she admitted, "but I'm supposed to do random good deeds along the way." She bit her lower lip. "We can at least investigate: a stealthy pair like us, luuca?" "Because that went so well the last time," she replied, but still smiled. "All right. You've convinced me with your good deed spiel. Let's hurry."

It was mostly Xiuyang's illusions and Tyrel's sonic magic that did the job as opposed to any real stealth on the pair's part but, as they drew closer, still unnoticed, they began to get a better picture of the situation. It was a mob. It looked like they had been willfully burning a distillery. They were shouting loudly in Palaparese and Tyrel recognized only a handful of scattered words. By the way that they were scrambling and the fire was starting to spread to a neighbouring shop and some trees, it appeared that their efforts had been a touch too enthusiastic and the blaze was out of their control.

A couple of untrained locals with a bit of the Gift seemed to be trying to counter it by drawing form it with their meagre capacities, or blowing it back with wind. The pair did not really have time to evaluate if the firefighters' efforts had come to much. Whatever trepidation Xiuyang had before disappeared once she saw the locals trying to put the blaze out. In a move that she hoped would cross the language barrier, she began to draw from the fire's heat and use a combination of her arcane and chemical magic to fight the fire from two fronts. She prioritized the shop, leaving the trees to Tyrel.

Tyrel did not need to be told. Of course the yasoi would be in charge of anything to do with trees. If she could not understand the exact words that the locals were jabbering rapidly, she could clearly sense their urgency, their wariness, and their willingness to let people who appeared to have the means to help do just that.

She began to draw.

When Tyrel drew, she drew. Perhaps it was habit. She'd been trained for years to draw as impressively as possible. Stealth was not the purview of the Avatar of Vyshta. The fires winked out and the heat rapidly left the air until hoarfrost briefly formed on the crumbling branches. Xiuyang's success was virtually as spectacular. The distillery and the houses simply... stopped burning, and both women were filled with energy.

Then, from one of the houses came a mother holding a young child, and she was shouting near-frantically and pointing inside. Xiuyang didn't stop to think. Where there was a mother and child, there were more vulnerable people in need, and she was still a binder.

Xiuyang's dash inside revealed an elderly man who was trapped behind a formerly-burning piece of fallen roof that he could not manage to climb over. This also revealed, however, the condition of the building: something that the would-be rescuer would've been well served to take into account before dashing inside. As she made her way towards him, there was a loud crackling 'snap!' and a roof beam fell!

She didn't have time to think about the possible consequences. She attempted to use blood magic to destroy the roof beam. The beam disintegrated effortlessly into nothing, saving the old man's life. However, it was only a few seconds later that the two remaining beams, in a chain reaction, collapsed as well. This time, the very grateful elder wasn't the one in immediate danger, however—it was her. Taking a page from Trypano's book, Xiuyang attempted to burrow herself into a tiny hole, hoping the dominos would stop falling.

The old man doddered out, shooting her a quizzical look but also not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Xiuyang ended up rather snug in her little hideaway. It was a few moments later when the entirety of the ruin was removed, thanks to Tyrel.

A handful of villagers clustered around Tyrel by torchlight, some clutching their children fearfully, a few looking pained or shouting. Others milled about anxiously, a handful cleaning the destroyed buildings. The final group seemed to be people sitting or lying on the ground. There was vomit in evidence. They were ushering one nervous-looking young man forward. He peered at the pair of obvious foreigners.

"Hi," he began, "I am Alamon." His eyes flicked between the two as they came together, and the others continued to prod him to ask a particular question. He held up a hand and swallowed and a few drew back. "You... Virang?" he asked with an expectant wariness.

A slightly dirty and very sweaty Xiuyang smiled and shook her head. "Salome, of Revidia," she introduced. Her name held the meaning of "peace," and if it helped, she would do her best to embody it. She gave Tyrel a one-armed hug from the side. "Miret, my friend." She kept her phrases simple, so as many of them that had a little Avincian could know what she was saying. "Bring hurt, we heal." She rubbed her arm as if applying a salve.

"Salome. Revidia." He nodded, looking a bit bemused, and a few others nodded and murmured and looked at her with new eyes. "Miret." More than a few glances went to the yasoi's missing leg. "Tarlon?" a few asked, and Tyrel exchanged a glance with her friend. "No," she replied, shaking her head. "Mycormii."

If the villagers didn't comprehend everything that Xiuyang said in its most exact form, they seemed to understand that this odd foreign pair were not enemies. The questions flowed thick and fast, funneled through one man's very broken Avincian:

"You no..." he pointed to his eyes. "Revidia."

A few children kept shouting the same questions in Tyrel's direction and, finally, the man translated. "What..." He pointed to her stump. "Happen?"

"You see many man..." He motioned sleeping. "That-a-way?"

A few of the younger teens jumped up to try to be as tall as Tyrel, but none could match the yasoi. She blushed, slightly. Instead, the taller ones compared themselves favourably to Xiuyang, standing on their tiptoes, giggling, and grinning.

Finally, an old woman came shuffling over with a large bottle and began tapping the translator incessantly on his shoulder.

"Father, Revidia. Mother, ReTan, Torragon," Xiuyang replied with a patient smile and a nod. There were people of Rettanese ancestry in Virang as well, so his confusion was understandable. At his question about many men sleeping, though, she hadn't the foggiest notion of what he could mean. Perhaps he was referring to the dead men hanging, but it seemed like a stretch and she didn't want to scare the children, so she tilted her head in confusion, hoping he might try to elaborate somehow.

Tyrel glanced at her, equally confused. She had her own question to answer and not the slightest clue of how to answer it. "Uh... shark!" she answered belatedly, mimicking big chomping jaws with her arms. She pressed her hands together above her head like a dorsal fin and bobbed back and forth as if she were swimming. A few of the children laughed. Other eyes widened. A few regarded her missing leg suspiciously, and some glanced out at the water.

Then, the old lady was there and the translator had her bottle of—well, both could tell that it was alcohol—thrust upon him. "This give you," he managed, in broken Avincian. "She give you." He motioned drinking. "Thank you. Her man." He pointed towards the splintered ruins of the building beside the still. Other people continued to tap his back and arms and repeat the same few urgent messages at him. With a shout of annoyance in his native tongue, he raised an arm and they backed off for a minute. "This very..." He trailed off, struggling for the word. "Stonk?" He thrust it into Xiuyang's hands. "You have." He nodded, smiling encouragingly. "Thank you."

Xiuyang blinked and nodded her thanks to both of them. "I like it!" she said slowly and boisterously, smiling. "Be well." She wasn't sure if they would understand, but she made the sign of Oraff along with a slight bow.

It was an awkward situation, being the center of attention, having a mix of gratitude, curiosity and possibly suspicion of people she couldn't communicate well with. It made a part of her anxiously want to leave, but she also didn't want to be rude. She looked to Tyrel, as if hoping for some kind of cue. Or an outright rescue.

Tyrel bowed deeply. "Thank you," she replied to the translator and the old woman. "We—" she gestured at herself and Xiuyang "like this gift." She made a 'thank you' gesture in gratitude. "We are happy—" She smiled in exaggerated fashion and pointed to Xiuyang's face as well "—that her man is safe."

She began nodding and bowing and, soon, she had started the entire clearing's worth of relatively short Rettandic-looking people doing the same. She leaned in to Xiuyang. "Hey sistah, let's hightail it outta dodge while the going is good, huh? We'll camp out. You can carry the booze." "Sounds good to me," she replied. "Probably a good idea to keep this away from you. He said it was... stonk." She grinned.

"Are you implying that my constitution is weak?" Tyrel replied, aghast as they began moving. Both had to stop multiple times to wave or shake hands. "Oh, friend," shouted the translator, hurrying up. "No safe. Okay?" He pointed to his eyes. "See all night. Many men walk Ceboyan." Then, with that warning, they made it past the outskirts of the town and into the darkness of the forest and its trail.

Xiuyang glanced back at the translator as he shouted. She had to admit, she was more than a little nervous. Yarsoc was many things, but devious was not one of them. She could see danger coming from miles away there, but here in the jungle, her eyes played tricks, trying to convince her that death was behind every tree. "Think he was warning us to take turns sleeping?"

"I think exactly that, suunei," the yasoi confirmed, "but my delicate constitution requires a drink first in order to stay awake." She held out a hand, hopping a few steps as she did so, and arched an eyebrow expectantly. "I'm pretty sure that's not how alcohol works," Xiuyang replied with narrowed eyes.

"Pls?"

"Pretty pls?"

"With spratz on top?"

"It's mine, betch! Hand it over!"

Xiuyang pondered for a moment that she was wanting for a shot glass, but Tyrel was insistent. "Alright, alright! Just go easy on it!" "It is for yasoi," Tyrel said very matter-of-factly. "Trust me. My uncle said so." She took the bottle, stopped on the spot, and uncorked it. She took one sip and nearly vomited. "Vyshtii bubbex!" she exclaimed. "That's some stonk stuff." She coughed a few times, sinking onto her haunch, one of her crutches clattering loose and falling to her side. She held the bottle up in Xiuyang's direction, blinking blearily a handful of times and grimacing. "Here," she croaked, "take it back. I'm plenty awake now."

"I warned you. It's stonk." Xiuyang replied, smirking. "Let's see if it's any good." It had been quite a while since she'd had anything stronger than a glass of wine. She threw her head back, taking a good bit more than a shot with it. "Hey, it's not actually bad. Not great. I've had better."

Tyrel blinked. Her cheeks were already turning rosy. She rose unsteadily, collecting her crutch on the way. "Heh-heeeyyy, suunei," she laughed, reaching for it again. "I think you're juss playin' hard-to-please." She winked, hand closing around it. "I says the night's a failure if we don't get through it all. You're, like a... dev.. devolver, right?" She blew a raspberry. "We'll be fine."

"Well yes, I have devouring blood, but you're not gonna make it at this rate." She tried to play keep-away with the bottle, but she was too slow. "I'll be our watchful eyes. You should get some rest..!"

The yasoi got a second drink, but they managed to make it to a small clearing nonetheless. Tyrel plopped herself on the ground and began to pull things haphazardly from her pack. "Six bottles of beer on the wall," she started singing, "six bottles of beer..." There was a tent in there somewhere.

"Still coherent enough to sing that song, I see," Xiuyang observed. "Are you really that curious?"

"If one of those bottles should happen to fall..." Tyrel trailed off and considered, seeming infinitely more sober and thoughtful for a moment. She nodded.

"Well, I wouldn't want to steal your thunder, not when you're so close." She smiled and winked, taking over the task of setting up the tent. She could do that much with her survival class.

"Five bottles of beer on the wall!" Tyrel squealed, doing her best to help as she sung. If her balance was normally suspect as a monopod, it was absolutely atrocious here. Nonetheless, she managed to be of some service. Then, when they were done, she stumbled over to her pack and pulled out the hammock. This, she began to set up for herself. "Two bottles of beer on the wall, two bottles of beer!" Xiuyang hummed along and tilted her head to the tune. She stayed busy, binding away to create a fire pit and gather things to burn. And then Tyrel was done. "Sorry, suunei, Just needed to finish." She smiled and continued to fumble with the hammock. "I think we should swap stories."

"Alright," Xiuyang relented. "I'm here to track down Raffie. The little pink one." She gestured as one would to indicate that she was small. "I found her late mother's diary, and I have reasons to believe she stole some of my family's company paperwork. The two books look the same, so I think there was a misunderstanding. You can laugh if you want—it is pretty funny, out of context—but if I don't find that ledger, I'm totally screwed." She rubbed her arm anxiously.

Tyrel blinked. "Little pink one..." She trailed off, face turning pensive. "Does she... always eat sweets?"

"Yes, that one! She's Virangish, though she doesn't look like it."

The yasoi tilted her head. "Suunei," she admitted, cheeks growing even rosier for a moment, "I am... ashamed to say that I don't even know what a Virangish should look like, or a Revidian, a Torragonese, an Enthish." She shrugged. "I was writing notes to boys I liked during geography classes." She smiled ruefully. "I remember that pink hair, though, and that squeaky little voice." She furrowed her brow. "You think it was an accident?"

Xiuyang snickered at the mental image. "She had help from Niallus and that compass that helps him find things, and I know she was looking for that diary. I certainly hope it was a mistake." She said it to convince herself more than anything. She had hoped to exchange them and leave as quickly as she came.

Tyrel considered. "I have... my own purpose that I'm heading towards," she admitted, "and it is a grave one." She tried sitting on the hammock and nearly lost her balance. After some squirming, she managed to pull her leg up and sit there 'cross-legged'. "I have some time first, however." She smiled and held up an arm, flexing. "I can be the muscle if you need." She considered. "Can't help much with tracking, though."

"She's not exactly a force to be reckoned with." Xiuyang giggled. "But thank you. I am curious as to why you're here personally, though." Tyrel seemed avoidant for a moment. "You know... don't you have any tethered friends who could help?" She shook her head. "Would make it a lot easier." She regarded Xiuyang with a hint of anxiety—perhaps it was merely drunken paranoia. She had promised answers...

"I get along alright with Marci, but... I dunno. Maybe not enough for a huge favor like this." There was also Abdel, but she wasn't sure they had left on good terms last time. She didn't push Tyrel any harder. It wasn't as if she'd been entirely forthcoming with what that company paperwork entailed, either.

They continued in a silence that was somewhere between 'easy' and 'loaded'. Tyrel's lone leg hung out the side of the hammock as she rocked back and forth. "You know," she remarked, "instinct tells me I should be higher up in that tree." She shook her head. "How do yanii get any sleep on the ground?" She was circling around towards it, but not quite there yet. Xiuyang shrugged. "I should have packed one, too, but this is fine. One of us isn't going to sleep anyway."

Tyrel nodded. "I don't think either will, to be honest." She swallowed, looking up at a patchwork of stars through the canopy of tropical leaves. "My sister—really my cousin, but we're sisters," she amended, "gave her leg to play my part. She is, this very moment, likely headed to rot in a Torragonese prison... well, one with nice cushions and good food but..." She shrugged. "It eats at me." She held her hand out for the jug.

Xiuyang's eyes widened in surprise. "I don't think she'll have too much trouble getting out. Wasn't Ayla in on the plan?" She handed over the jug a bit hesitantly. "Still, that's dedication. Whatever you're doing here must be bigger than... I dunno." Maybe it wasn't bigger than the revolution, but she silently hoped that it was. The two of them must be very close, if Miret was willing to make that kind of sacrifice. She hadn't offered to take Ciro's place lightly.

Sound about them wavered for a moment, and then again before a sonic bubble fell around the pair. The forest around them grew eerily quiet. "In Tarlon, they pick six little girls who've lost a leg and got too much of the Gift for their own good and bring them together on an island in the Tantas Sea for a weeklong sleepover." Her voice had taken on a funny tone. "The girls have a ton of fun." She smiled, faintly. "They stay up as late as they want, they eat whatever they like, they play a whole series of games against each other, they have musicians brought in to entertain them..." She trailed off.

"They know that they're competing against each other to be chosen as the next Avatar of Vyshta. They're too young to understand that it's a death sentence and their families don't tell them." There was an extended pause. "Maybe their families are believers, maybe they don't want to anger the people in power, or maybe they care more about the wealth and status victory will bring than they do about their daughters."

Tyrel took a sip from the jug and it took her a good few moments to recover. She breathed deeply in and out. "The Avatar doesn't fail to ascend each time by accident." She looked up at the stars, eyes almost flicking over to Xiuyang. "Ten years ago, three of those girls found out that they kill the Avatar of Vyshta before she can turn twenty-five, unless she declines to ascend and is willing to live in shame. That's because it's all a sham, and there's a chance she could be a real replacement. It's Esuul, the empress, who does it, because she and Cascal are often the only ones strong enough beyond a doubt."

Her pulse pounded behind her ears. She'd come out and said it. She was endangering everything, but she'd said it. Xiuyang, her gut told her, she could trust. Stupid, stupid, stupid! It was done now anyhow. "Miret will meekly play her role and follow orders and give all the right signals that she won't be a problem. I'm going to play with time. I'm going to be twenty-five." Tyrel nodded slowly, glancing at her friend. "You've got more going on too," she observed from the other's drinking and body language, "don't you?"

Xiuyang took it all in, and her first instinct was to take a drink, but she didn't. She just held on to the jug, swishing the liquid around and contemplating what she'd just been told. "Well, shit, Tyrel. Compared to that, my own troubles are pretty mundane." She considered for a moment. "Well... The Doge might be trying to kill the man I love, and I'm planning to stand in his way. So I'm a bit scared about that." In the end, she decided to take another drink. "And if I don't get this ledger back, the fallout might... no, any sensible man would leave me." Her voice trailed off, and she swallowed. "But you, Tyrel, I can't imagine what you've been through." She shook her head sadly. Then, she looked her in the eyes. "What do you want, Tyrel? Do you wish to ascend? Or live a long life down here with us mere mortals?" She said the last part with something like a cheeky tone.

"Well, you should kill the doge, simple as." Tyrel nodded as if this were indeed a simple matter, even though they both knew that it wasn't. She sighed. "You and Ciro." She shrugged. "He's strong, you know, really strong." She trailed off. "I fought alongside him in the Trials, spax'yax that was." The yasoi rolled her eyes. "Be careful," she concluded in a low voice. "As for me, though?" She shrugged. "I guess I just want the choice, you know?" She shook her head. "Fuck these eternal god-fuckers and wrinkly old men making all the decisions for the rest of us. Get off the can so I can like... poop in it too, luuca?" Tyrel had definitely been drinking. Had her girlhood instructors ever heard the words coming out of her mouth, they'd have boxed her ears.

Xiuyang lowered her head. It was a complicated matter. He wanted to kill her husband-to-be, but his death would likely cause Perrence to begin their war in earnest while Revidia was disorganized. Setting aside if they could, whether or not they should was another question altogether.

She raised her head back up when Tyrel spoke of Ciro being strong. For Tyrel of all people to say that, it really meant something. She had a hunch, but to hear it from someone like her... Could she really take his place in what might be a suicide mission? She knew she was not a match for him when it came to the business world, but the thought of also being the weaker of the two made her feel conflicted. It was nice to feel protected and taken care of, but if she couldn't do the same, she'd feel... useless. Just like before. "You're not the first person to tell me to be wary of him, but I'm sure he loves me," she replied, her confidence seeming sincere enough.

Tyrel's language made her giggle. "I'll drink to that," she said, doing so. "Let the old men retire, and stop robbing us of Damy's choice." She passed her gourd to Tyrel, perhaps hoping she was too drunk to notice the change. If she passed out, it would be bad for them both. "I guess that's what I want, too. The freedom to live my own life."

"Amen to that, suunei," Tyrel remarked, not noticing the difference at all. She fell back into her hammock, spread eagle, and took another drink, giggling. "Hey," she remarked, almost offhandedly, "think there was anything to those bunch of guys camping and that burning still?"

"Just your regular party fire, probably," Xiuyang dismissed, thinking back to the group of passed-out ne'er-do-wells sitting in their drunken vomit.

"Hmm," Tyrel considered, thinking back to the encounter. "Yeah, sounds about right." She took another sip and handed the jug to Xiuyang. "Hey, suunei, I'm getting tired. I think we should sing the beer song again to stay awake." Xiuyang grinned and joined Tyrel in the hammock. "Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall..."

Did they ever finish the song? Did it really even matter? Only they would ever know.

The fog cleared to reveal a sparse canopy of trees above him. The branches rustled gently with a quiet breeze shaking the apples that hung from the stems. He was lying down in the grass just starting up and watching nature move. The distant call of cicadas ensured that this was a place of life. The sun shining through was nothing like the dim scrapings of Halge Larchelon. It was warm, it was home.

A group of voices sounding a short distance away brought his attention from idle gazing. Their cheerful and youthful tone made him sit up to see what the fun was about. He got up and rested back on his hands. He saw his friends, only, they were younger; not one of them could have been older than fourteen. In surprise, he looked at his own hands, saw they reflected the same youth, and came to recognise that his heart had felt lighter. They were at the precipice of starting that journey toward adulthood and looking toward the horizon with the brightest of dreams and ambitions.

Dory stood by a large pond with Manfred right behind her guiding her hand. The square-headed soldier boy was teaching her to skip rocks across the water’s surface. He hadn’t seen what she had in him but her smile was undeniable. She was happy like that.

Yvain and Jomurr sat at opposite ends of a small chess table. Their expressions were locked in the intensity of the game. Born of blue blood, they were always looking to prove their position in the world. Perhaps they found worth in their progress of learning it.

Miiras hung from a tree by his legs and juggled three apples while Atzi and Juulet giggled together at his antics.

To their right, an easel had been set up where Tku was painting the scenery. Yuli seemed content to look at the Obenjan’s progress while Carmillia braided her hair.

On a big rock overlooking the water, Zarina sat looking outward. A yasoi girl sat wrapped between her arms with her head leaning on the Virangish girl’s shoulder. Zarina’s runaway had finally come back home to her.

Leon smiled widely, it was the orchard he called home, the caravans had made the stop. He didn’t know how many travellers would be with him until next year. People came and went in the wanderer’s life faster than a pair of cheap boots. But for now, he took in the moment and hoped it would last forever. These people were more than any vagrant who tagged onto the trail. And they were all here, except…

There was a rustle in the bushes behind him. Leon tried to look but before he had the chance, she was already upon him. She pounced like a tiger, wrapped her arms over his shoulders from behind, and laughed at her successful ambush. ”Gaut yoo!” Kaureerah spoke in a playful voice. He laughed along and allowed himself to be dragged down back to the grass.

The moment didn’t last long. Before he knew it, Kaureerah let go and was standing over him with her hands on her hips. ”Yoo faurgaut augen, deedn’t yoo? Aur aure yoo joost beeing lezy? Deener ees aup soon.”

Lazy didn’t sound too far from the truth. Honestly, he was struggling to wrench himself from this moment as it was. He wanted to reply and thought he had. His words seemed lost and weightless in the dream. She reached a webbed hand down to him and helped him to his feet.

Kaureerah led him aimlessly through the trees as they ran along with a skip in their steps. It was like the teens he had seen when he first came home to this place. They waded through the woods with bright smiles and occasionally giggling at nothing in particular. She would glance back now and then just so their eyes could meet then quickly turn back to look where she was going.

It was the skipping of two kids finding their first love, unsure if they should dwell too long in that feeling or if they were even allowed to feel that way, but never staying away from it for too long. It made them happy in a way they had never known before. A scary but bright frontier for the soul.

They made their way into a clearing parted by a lone hill. She brought him up to see a single caravan cart resting atop it. It was painted a subtle yellow with red trimmings. A thin steady smoke billowed out from a metal piping at the top. A few side windows were open and dust brown curtains gently billowed in the wind. It was the cart he grew up in.

The woman who had raised him was sitting on the stairs to the door just ahead.

Leon froze. It had been so very long since he had seen his nonna and now she was only meters away. He didn’t know if it was wasting time with her to be standing still, but he couldn’t help it. He let Kaureerah slip through his grasp and continue forward to the cart.

Eleanor looked so very frail. She was wrapped in a blanket despite the warm weather. She looked at the approaching eeaiko with glassy eyes close to losing their vision entirely. He couldn’t grasp it back then, but he knew it now. His nonna wasn’t long for this world. Leon teared up and his throat grew tight. He was just happy to have one more chance to see her.

When Kaureerah reached her, his nonna greeted her with warmth and practically pinched her cheek with a thin, bony hand to the chuckles of the eeaiko. Eleanor gave Leon a very approving smile with what focus she had left. ”Is this your new girlfriend, Leon? Hmmm, this one is much better than the last one you brought here. You said she was a princess? Bah, hardly.” She brought her attention back to Kaureerah and smiled before nodding back to the door, ushering the eeaiko to get her dinner. ”No, I like this one much better.”

Kaureerah turned back to Leon. ”Caume aun, seelly!”

Out of his stupor, he took a step forward to join them. Maybe they could serve up some food and talk over the campfire pit. There was so much he wanted to say to her, to them, but if time would only allow for a single meal, then he would keep it brief.

However, the second the performer boy took another step forward, Eleanor looked up and directly at him. She had lost her smile and glared with a neutral, uncaring expression. ”Oh, you can’t join us, Leon.” His smile faded as a sense of dread washed over him.

”Did you forget?”

”You have somewhere else to be.”

She sat up with strain and looked beyond him. He was urged to turn around, and when he obliged, he saw a stone staircase on the hill. It led upward to the sky and was seemingly never-ending. Its end shrunk past the point of his perception. Never ending, never ending.

He struggled to recognise these steps. While he was surprised by the presence, he had a vague notion that he had seen them before, it held some place in his memory that he couldn’t seem to access. But from what he did recall, he remembered them being warm and inviting. He remembered them as a thing of happiness. Leon didn’t feel the same way now. Its stone bricks seemed cold and lifeless; it loomed over him like a titan before an ant.

He took a cautious step back. ”N-no… I think I want to stay here, with yo-” He turned around to see that he was alone on the hill. The cart was no longer there, nor his nonna, nor Kaureerah. He looked around to find them and saw nothing but the apple trees on all sides, and the staircase. He saw that the apple trees looked… more lifeless. Their leaves faded from a vibrant green; some had turned brown and hung lifelessly. The sounds of cicadas had come to a halt. All he could hear was the cold wind brushing through the leaves of this desolate place.

A familiar pressurised feeling returned in his chest. He looked down to his hands which confirmed he was nineteen again. That was right, aside from Miiras and his nonna, none of these people had ever come to the orchard. He remembered now, they all had their places to be…

A foul wind blew through the trees as he remembered they were all on the brink of war. His breathing grew shallower as the thought set in. They may not be safe, they could be hurt. He took a step forward away from the staircase to find them. Then the visions hit him.

Dorothea drank alone in a tavern, sending herself into another stupor over the passing of Manfred. She took a sense of security in the bottle, but the tides of war sent bitter eyes her way. A group of disgruntled peasants took advantage to rob and kill their duchess with a knife in the back. She didn’t put up much of a fight, she was helpless.

Yvain lay fallen in a small clearing propped up by the countless spears that pierced him. The valiant knight who had ridden out for the glory of his ideals and country was felled in an ambush. His face had lost its look of optimism for a bravely fought war. He died alone in the woods with no one who cared enough to bury him. The crows were circling.

Zarina lay face down, bleeding out in the mud of a Palapar coffee plantation. Sickles and pitchforks were stabbed into her back and all her murderers seemed to care about was looting the armour off her body. Would her family even know? Would Miret even look for her?

Tku…

Carmillia…

Jomurr…

Yuli…

Leon felt weak at the knees and fell to the ground. He brought his hands up to his face and closed his eyes. He just wanted it to stop, he didn’t want to see any more, but he couldn’t stop it.

It felt like an eternity…

When time allowed him the strength to look again, he was somewhere else.

The tiled streets of San Sameno sprawled out before him with the tall buildings flanking either side. Just ahead, was the tree where he married Bayani and Tala under. Their bodies hung together from one of its branches.

For whatever reason, against his will, Leon found himself getting to his feet and slowly stumbling toward the couple in the throes of his defeat and grief. They had met the end of revolutionaries. They fought the good fight and instead of living out their achievements with pride, they met the end of a noose for it. Tala never even fought, she died for the association.

He made it to the tree; he watched their feet dangle with only the gentle breeze to give them motion. He had so little energy left, how much more would the world take from him? In a slow, painful motion, he craned his neck up to look at the couple…

And met the lifeless eyes of Kaureerah.

It was them who hung from the wedded tree.

He couldn’t breathe.

It was them who met the end of revolutionaries.

His hands trembled.

The world struck back against their attempts to better it.

His jaw clenched.

She stared back at him with such sorrow.

He started to cry.

Leon had set out to change the world and Kaureerah went to join him because she wanted the same. But she was never born to climb that staircase like he was. Selfishly, he couldn’t tell her no, he wanted her to join him, he wanted her to be with him. He brought her to a place where she doesn’t belong…

He thought that he could pursue the power to change the world and hold onto his love. But what life would she lead? Living ever in the shadow of the person who was supposed to be her partner and equal. Could he expect her to be content with continuously being his lesser in the pages of history? It only made sense that as long as they were together she would wish to join him. That was love after all. She would run to be with him and die for the effort.

His ambition killed her.

It was all his fault that she was dead.

He screamed.

He screamed and screamed and screamed.

He fell down onto the grass of the orchard hill and thrashed about in ways the conscious mind could no longer control. His body flailed violently against the grass, his skin pushing across the dirt beneath it, the small rocks scraped his skin. He wanted to be out, he wanted to be out of this place, he wanted to leave he wanted to leave he wanted to leave he wanted to leave.

But it was no dream. It was reality waiting to catch him.

Then his hand met with a familiar stone tile step.

"If yoo ever have to ask if the ends jaustefy the meens, know thet they don't."

But what means could be worse than the tragedy he hoped to prevent? What methods were worse than a world that would take innocent people so carelessly from him?

He couldn’t finish the thought before the fog started rolling back in.

---

---

---

The good Perrenchman stared into the fog before he would trek through it once more, yet this time he was in luck since he did not have to travel through it all by himself. He squeezed his shoulder before he entered together with the rest. There was not the same anxious feeling from before with a group by his side. ”This really isn’t so bad when we’re together, right?” Yet there was no response. When he looked around, he noticed that the others were but silhouettes. ”No, no, no, not again.”

He chased after the figures in the fog, yet they all seemed to be moving further away. He soon kicked the pavement when all of them faded into the greyish white. Why was he always alone? Even when with friends, there was a sense of isolation within this place. ”Hehehehe.” He heard a cackle within the distance that seemed to be closing in. ”How badly must you suck, little brother?” From within the fog a silhouette formed, and it looked identical to his eldest sibling. ”Your bootlickers are nowhere to be seen. Your so called friends left you. Gods, I almost feel bad for you.” Yvain barely even blinked before he could feel a hit within his gut. ”You might be father’s favorite for now, but I will have my titles back.” Armand began to walk back into the fog. ”I pray for your downfall, brat. Maybe then you’ll learn some humility.”

Yvain coughed, the pain from the punch seemed to be real. Yet before he could fully recover from it he felt a soft hand caress his cheek. ”Look at what he did to you.” A familiar womanly voice rang through his ears. ”You shouldn’t be in a place like this, Yvain. Please go back.” Yvain finally stood straight and stared his sister right in her eyes. ”You also wish to stop me, dear sister?..” The woman shook her head. ”Not stop you… protect you. I love you, brother. Please don’t keep throwing your life away so many times. Cecile sighed, grabbing a pluck of her hair. ”I’m too young to start greying from all my worries, you know?” Yvain smiled. ”I’m sorry sister, but I must. If everyone else is moving forward, Eshiran would forbid me from going back.” The woman began to look concerned. ”But you’re not just anybody. You are my baby brother. Yvain just kept on smiling, it was good to see her sister… even if the chance of her being the real deal was close to nothing. ”That is exactly why I need to move forward. Who else will tell Lucien adventurous stories?” Yvain moved forward, leaving the image of his sister behind. ”Please.. for once, listen…”

Two hands clung to both his wrists. One was that of a woman, and the other a man, yet the grip from the woman’s hand was stronger. ”We finally found you, you seem better than before.” A relieved-sounding Vossoriyan spoke out. ”If you run off like that we can’t be there to protect you, you know?” Yvain’s eyes widened upon hearing the words of the ones he considered dear friends. Out of the three, he always knew he was the weakest… but he wouldn’t need protection, right? The man began to tug his arms away from their grip. ”You are too direct. He weak, but he still our friend.” Yvain began to swing his arms around to break free from their grip. Pain be damned. ”Hey, watch it! You might hit my face!.”

Once loose enough Yvain began to run. He did not care whereto, he just needed to leave them. Shut your traps! I’m not weak… He ran and ran through this endless space of the barely visible until he arrived at a scene where the fog seemed to clear somewhat. ”Big brother, it has been too long.” The voice sounded familiar, but deeper. The soft squeaks of wheels entered the scene and soon a person that looked similar to his little brother appeared. ”Lucien?... Is that you?” The young man’s smile was bright upon hearing the noble speak his name. ”I’m so happy you remember me. Everything has been so much worse since you left… or I think so.”

Yvain’s eyes were focused on the wheelchair. ”Lucien, what do you mean with you think so?... And who did this to you?” The young man in turn began to do a small trick on his wheels to show off. ”This was a gift, isn’t it cool? I can move around with this much better.” He then looked down. ”Father did.. “ Yvain turned furious. ”Father broke your legs?” He coughed. ”Not broken, just hastened… I got off easy.”

”You’re a… how come I only know now?” Yvain looked at his disabled brother. ”You always knew, brother… You just denied it, praying that it went away.” Lucien sighed before rolling forward. ”But enough about me, you have been gone for a long time… It might be time I tell you everything that happened while you were gone.”

The eldest brother, Armand laid on the ground. devoid of life.Yet his sister did not look much better, but she looked alive. She held her dead brother’s head to her chest in a mix between aggression and depressive sadness in her bloodied face. The wheels stopped with a squeak. ”Father couldn’t handle losing his golden child. He wanted us to be just as strong as you, no matter what it did to us.” Lucien pointed to his legs that were tugged neatly in his wheelchair. ”I was tethered, so I was lucky enough to be thrown away once my legs stopped working.” Yvain looked at the scene with utter disgust. His old man wouldn’t have fed siblings aberrations out of his grief, right?

Soon his signature desk would be met his most trusted aid slumped over, gripping at his chest. ”Olivier tried to keep everything neat and orderly for when you returned. He held hope until his heart couldn’t take the stress any longer.” The man who raised him into the noble he became was now dead on his desk because he wasn’t there for him.

His friend would be seen in a ceremonial casket. ”He tried to stop the war, and what did he get for that virtue? Betrayal by his own leader… killed and then portrayed as a martyr. Yvain looked within Leon’s casket, such a peaceful face for an energetic man like him was an uncomfortable sight.

”This is your biggest mistake, brother.” It was a high-standing throne, with the silhouette sitting upon it looking eerily like Yuliya. ”You could have ended everyone’s suffering by just ending this monster when you had the chance!” He yelled. ”I looked up to you, but to think you were friendly with a sanguinaire… and knew she was one.” He shook his head angrily. ”Not just that, brother…. You willingly let her grow in strength. You should have burned that body to cinders before she could feed on it..”

The fog began to swirl, Lucien’s face began to distort within a face of pure disdain as he looked at Yvain.

”I am ashamed…”

The fog began to swirl until nothing was clear anymore.

”...Of you..”

Yvain, upon processing everything he just saw, grew weak in his legs. Tears began to well up, how many mistakes has he made?

---

The day of Fortuna, the Berry Bowl, the first day of Rezain, whatever you want to call it, was a festive day for the students of Ersand’Enise. People drank and played their games of chance and prayed for a good harvest in the coming weeks. The day was the same for Ingrid, she drank and played and ate all the berries she was allowed. A broken tooth, some blue fingers, and a feeling of impending doom, what a day it was.

Surrounded by friends and berry wine was what she needed to nurse her woes from Bog. Seeing people having fun she came and played a prank on Rikard, he was like a little brother she wanted to tease a little because he was always so smart. A blue crown for the king of greed. It was all fun she thought, she didn’t think it was going to get so mean. I mean, I saw that it could get that mean but when would it go that sour? Stupid eyes showed me a future where they would all be laughing.

Rikard ran off in anger after casting dangerous magic, and Ingrid was compelled to follow. He was gifted in movement but maybe it was emotions that slowed him as Ingrid never lost sight of him. She thought she was secretly trailing him but she must have made it too obvious.

"I know you're following me," Rikard shouted back, but his voice was cracking. "Kindly fuck off."

"Sure, but can I follow you for now?" Ingrid kept up rather easily.

"No," he snapped back with halfhearted spite. "You're just here to make... sport of me again."

"I mean tag is a sport but I promise I'm not going to do something." Ingrid pleaded.

"I just want to make sure you're okay, that's all."

"Well I'm not!" Rikard replied. "You made sure of that: you and Marci and Raffie and fucking... Fiske! What was it? Just... Rikard hunting season!?"

"And I'm sorry for what I did. I can't speak for the others but I thought we were good friends, one that could mess with each other." She called back using sonic magic to not just broadcast to the school.

"It went too far, you're right. The intentions don't matter if someone is getting hurt."

"Once is 'messing with each other. Literally everyone except for Roslyn - who's never seen a wall she didn't wanna flower on - is really fucking different, you know. You've always been like that, though." Was the last bit an accusation or the start of an invitation to talk? He still hadn't turned. He was still stalking angrily away. By the way that his figure heaved and moved, it was clear that he was crying and would not show it.

Ingrid noticed, how could the master of crying and apology tours not notice? "I don't notice, things go too far before I realize it. From a talk to an argument before a minute passes. At least I have been told. It's easy to not notice, harder to see." Ingrid didn't push past to see his face, she was raised well enough that seeing him cry would only make it worse. Whether it was an accusation or not, Ingrid didn't care. She was here and she would admit that because it was the truth.

Rikard stopped abruptly. He stopped and he turned and he was small and crying. "I just wanna be someone, like he was, and no matter how hard I try, nobody respects me. Nobody even really likes me." He shook his head, still self-absorbed and (mostly) ignorant of Ingrid's own admission. "Abdel is always with Maura and Fiske was always with Marcie and Seviin won't even talk to me unless she's trying to like... convert me." He snorted with weak mirth. "I'm just always the stupid little kid who shoots lightning bolts out his ass." He took a few steps to the side and slumped into some sacks of potatoes leaning against a wall.

Ingrid listened, shifting to his side as she listened to the cries of the young man, and how pathetic they were. Almost as pathetic as lusting after every man and woman on this damn campus last year. So she could relate. "I do think people like you. And for what it is worth, I like you. We were buddies since we both looked at that date together in the Rettanese Groove."

"Hey! You are not a stupid kid!" she bumped him on the shoulder and soured her face towards him. "Being respected is all good but you can't compare yourself to him. You could be better in so many ways." Ingrid looked wishfully at the Forked Tower. "Respect comes randomly and honestly has little to do with what you do at times. That man, Ren, He's strong and oh so respected but is an utter jack-off. Your science, your curiosity, your dedication, your bravery facing the Violet Enclave. All of that has earned respect. You just can't feel it yet because you're chasing still."

Rikard waffled between hope and scrunching up his face in dejection. They were nice words, but he felt pathetic just being here and having Ingrid have to talk to him like some sort of... counselor. Was she just telling him what she thought would make him feel better? For a moment, he clenched his fists tightly.

Then, he let them slack. If she was here, it was because she cared enough to be. Ingrid was an idiot sometimes - Who was he kidding? So was he. - but she was a good enough person. She was... kind of a friend. For a moment, as he looked at her, his eyes started to slide downwards, to her chest, to her waist. To... He stopped himself. He'd tripped honestly, but he'd contrived to fall draped over Marci. He didn't know why he'd done it. It was stupid and everyone had to have seen through it and it was wrong. Marci wasn't some thing that was just there for him to have fun with.

A terrible guilt seized Rikard's stomach, and its twin was anxiety. This was Marceline, who he'd sat beside in like... three classes, who he shared his lunches with sometimes, who he'd worked with on that play in drama class where they'd played Sigismund and Dorothea. His heart beat faster. He remembered the sound of her voice when she delivered the line: "I can say I love thee not, so well as I might tell a lie." He remembered sitting, sun-dappled, under a tree in the Arboretum with her when they'd had that unexpected spare when Mr. Secto had come down with food poisoning. He'd used her. He'd hurt her, and she'd been angry. He balled his fists up again. "I deserved it," he concluded, "some of it." He shook his head. "I need to apologize to Marci. Ipté, I need to apologize!" They could be enemies forever. She could hate him!

"Then by all means," Ingrid pushed off of the wall, "go, she's probably with Desmond."

Rikard started to rise, but then he stopped. "Uh..." He breathed a couple of times. "You think she's still mad at me?" He swallowed. "I like her," he squeaked. "I like her and..." He trailed off and looked down at the ground. But she's dating Fiske. Kinda.

Her eyes sharpened on him, "Maybe but that shouldn't stop you. Life is hard and if you feel genuine remorse for doing that to her, then you should apologize. Just make sure you try not to do it again or you will be giving apologies tours." she winked, making fun of herself.

"As for liking her when she is might be dating another, I've chased 2 people like that and it didn't work out well, just go into it knowing it might not work," Ingrid gave a last bit of advice. It really never worked well, both times they ended up possessed, and one time she ended up dead.

Rikard swallowed. He composed himself and nodded. "I'm... sorry if I made an idiot of myself," he admitted, "or... if I made you feel bad." His fingers curled and uncurled nervously. "I uh... should go talk to her." He nodded slowly to himself and started moving. Then, he stopped, swaying forward and back momentarily on the balls of his feet. "Thanks, Ingrid, by the way." Perhaps embarrassed, he scampered quickly away.

"Eh, everyone makes a fool of themselves here, some more than others." Ingrid shrugged. "Look," she presented herself with a twirl, "I'm just fine, come talk to me after if you want or need me, my door is open for you." Ingrid started to head off to her dorm as the alcohol had started to make 3 forked towers. "Too many berries."

Cloth rustled and slid over Guy’s body as he dressed himself before the sun set upon his dorm. He was quiet, softening his steps as he walked through the house, especially near Tekah’s room; she wakes at the slightest noise. He slipped through with no issue making his way to the kitchen. A sonic bubble set over the room like a veil as he rummaged through his recipe box. Each recipe was given to him as he gained the trust of various people. He only placed them in the kitchen to flesh out his cover. They served 2 purposes now with Tekah’s inquisitive palette.

He grabbed a recipe he got from a shy woman from the Drudgunzean Union. She had some pull in a free city in Kerremand so it was his imperative to get closer. Somehow this recipe landed in his lap. He slipped it next to the candle to read the recipe, “Butter, flour, salt, white sugar, water.” He turned to the back and read what felt like copious instructions and precisions that Guy didn’t really understand but all he was good at was following orders.

Or so he thought as the kitchen turned into a place of nightmares, enough to give the soldier anxiety. But the dough was done and it looked questionably alright. Guy questioned if it was even workable but he still needed to continue, he only had an hour left.

An hour later, “Tekah!” he projected at her door, “Be out here in 10 minutes.” Guy set the table for the 2 of them. Spiced gruel, quartered figs, soft cheese, and a honey pot in the center next to the pitcher. It was rather luxurious.

Tekah opened her door half a minute before Guy called her again. She was not yet dressed for the day but she had the decency not to come out completely disheveled. She helped herself first to the pitcher of water, pouring a glass to almost overflow. Just a single drop more and the tension holding it in place would give. Satisfied with her perilous glass, she sat down in front of the breakfast that she had grown used to.

“More gruel! My fevoreet,” she snickered as she started to pour honey on it.

Guy reached out and stopped the tilt of the jar before it became honey and gruel, “That had been enriched with cream and spices.” Guy slipped the jar out of her hand and put a significant dolop of honey on his as well.

Tekah tasted it, obviously trying to guess what her dad had put in this time. “Ceenaummoon, clove, salt…” she looked at her dad for hints.

Guy gave no such hints as he started eating.

“Pepper?”

“Nope.”

“Cardeemoon.”

“Guess again.” He read a small book that he kept in his breast pocket.

She took another spoonful, rubbing her temples to call forth greater insight. “Nautmeg?”

He let her sit there.

“Nautmeg!”

“There you go,” Guy put down his book and handed her a fig as he got up.

“YES!” she reveled in her success. The gruel tasted even richer now.

“Your palette has improved day by day,” Guy made a furtive swipe of something from the cabinet, hiding it behind his back.

“Only because yoo keep seing eet’s—” large air quotes, “—praupper.” she rolled her eyes.

“So I shouldn’t spend money on unique things for you to taste,” Guy walked next to her and looked down at her with a mischievous grin.

She thought of her words carefully, her treats were on the line! “Eye maust se, trening my palette to bee maure deescerning hes geeveen me maure too taulk about weeth my friends,” she said as clearly as she could. “So thenk yoo,” she hoped, no prayed, she had dissuaded her father’s decision.

He could let her squirm but he didn’t have the taste for that today, ”Fine fine, you have done well enough. Have a new treat.” He pulled out a small basket of apple turnovers.

Her eyes went wide as she grabbed one without hesitation, biting through the flaky layers and stewed apples at the center. The spices were the same as the gruel and she could actually tell. But a part of her seemed hesitant or inquisitive now that she really smelled the air.

“Why deed yoo meke eet?” Tekah asked.

”Oh? What make you say I made them and that I just didn’t go out to get them?”

“The smell of aupple en the room es fent baut still here,” Tekah confidently answered. She crossed her arms and went into thought, “Baut why meke them? Why toode? Thet’s whaut Eye don’t know.”

Guy carried a smile the entire time to not give anything away. Look at her, going past simple deductions and questioning the motives and causes on her own. Her training is going excellent by any metric. Magic, language, wits, skill. All of it. I couldn’t be prouder of her.

”No particular reason, I just wanted to make them for you.”

She rolled her eyes, “Keep your secrets!” She pouted but took another bite and quietly said “Thenk yoo”

”Your welcome, get ready to school when your done eating. We have a busy day at the farm and garden today.”

”Okey!” Tekah proceeded to eat all but one apple turnover.