Fallenreaper

The Hourglass Order

Roslyn Wicke

"This ship seems a bit... small, doesn't it?"

Aftermath

Location: The Docks, Ersand'Enise; Woodland clearing, somewhere at School

Didn't Know They Came That Big...

*

Thump.

Roslyn lowered the last of the barrels onboard as she exhaled, her feet shifted toward the side of the deck. She rolled her shoulder causing it to loosen up a bit. While the gift made tedious tasks easier, the repetitive motions wore on her. Especially during lengthy periods. She pushed her binding into the strained tendons to numb them. Once the pain lessened, the girl crossed her arms upon the railing and took in the dockside view first hand.

A heavy salty scent hung in the air as the waves lapped at the ship's side. Across the docks, she watched sailors rush about. Some loading supplies like her, setting sail, or preparing to dock. Roslyn casually pulled her compass from her pocket and glanced down at it. Her eyes watched the first needle solidly one direction while another flickered.

With a deep breath, she snapped it close and dangled it from her fingers. She let her gaze wander while she took in the busy dock. Suddenly a shadow stretched across her small form. Noticing the lack of sun, her eyes widened and she twist about. She came to the man's middle causing her to frown. A heavy cough drew her attention upward.

How did the Gods make a man this huge?!? He stood over most of her classmates who ranged in above average heights. When she thought her eyes might never reach the end, she locked sights with irises bluer than the sea. A diagonal scar divided his face that looked like near fatal wound in the past. His hand came up and scratched his wreath of a beard before he broke her gawking silence.

"Is this... Nuvole Rosse?" The giant struggled with the Avincian words. He then added, "Speak Eskandish?"

Loosening her jaw, Roslyn switched over to the language. She cringed at the squeak in her voice. "Selvfølgelig? (Yes?)"

The man's scarred eyebrow arched at her answer. It took her a moment to realize her tone didn't match up with the form of yes she used. She spoke firmer this time while asking her own question. "Ja, jeg kan snakke Eskandish. Hvem er du? (Yes, I can speak Eskandish. Who are you?)"

"Eike Agnarsson. Du er lite for en kaptein. (You're little for a captain.)" He snorted back another observation.

Roslyn frowned at the sting of the insult. Her chest puffed out and her arms crossed over her chest while she shot back a retort. "Snakk for deg selv, din vandrende flaggstang! (You should talk, you're walking flagpole!)"

When the words left her mouth, her hands clamped down it. Shit...

A silence settled between them. The towering man glared down at her, his brow scrunched Down over his icy blue eyes. She did it now. Before she apologized, the man's lips broke into a smile. A deep belly laugh erupted from his chest joined by a harsh croak of a raven. Immediately, a blue black avian appeared. Pulling its body back, the creature landed lightly upon his shoulder. The dark head rotated from eye to eye, sizing her up. "Så det er litt futt i deg... Hadde ikke forventet det av en lite gnom som deg..."( So you do have some fire in you... Wasn't expecting it from one so small.) He paused for a moment to adjust his sack."Jeg liker det. Hvor legger jeg tingene mine?"(I like it. Now where I put my stuff?)

The raven hopped from his shoulder and fluttered on to her head. "Au, au! Gå av meg!"(Ow, ow. Get off me!) She tensed, her hands trying to shoo it away. The bird cawed his protest before she realized what the man had said. She blinked then spilled the first words on her lips. " Hæ? Burde det ikke være mitt valg om jeg hyrer deg?" (Wait, what?)

"Du hørte meg." (You heard me.)

"Jeg forstår ikke. Jeg tror jeg får et ord med i laget om dette." (I don't understand. I think I get a say in this.) She gave up on prying the bird off and focused on the tree of a man. Her arms rested on her hips and she planted herself.

He slowed his pace as he answered earnestly. "Hranf liker deg og det er godt nok for meg. Du vil ha en mindre å ansette nå." (Hranf likes you and that is enough for me. You'll have one less crew mate to hire now.)

"Dette skipet virker litt... Lite, ikke sant?" (This ship seems a bit... small, doesn't it?) Roslyn asked, feeling the raven still rubbing against her.

"Jeg ville hatt samme problemet på hvilket som helst annet skip... Men her vil det være færre å tråkke på." (I'd have the same problem on any other ship. With this one, there's less crew. I only worry about stepping on one or two.)

Secrets of the Dead

**

After finishing her business, Roslyn splashed water over her face. The chill jolted her awareness to the surface as she rested her hands on the sides. Drip, drip... She listened to the water cascading off her face. She inhaled then exhaled out. The slow, steady breaths did nothing to cool the anxiety in her chest.
She had dismissed any visitors since she returned to Ersand'Enise. Drowning in her own emotions, she knew little of the rampant rumors running loose.

A small, leather book drew her attention. Among its pages were neatly pressed flowers peeking out along the edge. Lifting it up, she pressed her back into the table and flipped through the pages. A small, slender stemmed flower with small white 'bells' dropped from its place. Roslyn leaned over to pick it up. Seeing that it was a lily of the valley brought a ghost of a smile to her lips.

Her mind turned to the skull hidden underneath her things. With a deep breath, she placed the flower in and snapped the book closed. She stepped to her bed side while she drew in any reminding light from the room. Her body slide half way underneath and prodded the planks. When she found the right one, she tilted the end up with kinetic and pulled it up.

Several things laid within it, but she paid them no mind. Her hand trailed the side and found the small crack for her fingers. It popped out with a bit of effort. Her hand pulled out something wrapped in bandages. She walked to the farthest corner of the room and slid down into a sitting position. "Now or never."

"'Never' might be best," said a cool voice from the shadows in the room's corner. There was, to go along with it, a distinct cooling of the space's overall temperature. "That is, if you decide to go it alone," added Edyta Laska. "There are some things one shouldn't trifle with by her lonesome."

Upon hearing the voice, Roslyn's form stilled for a moment. The realization she wasn't alone hit her harder than the plummeting temperature. Her eyes flickered upward and stared hard into the direction of the voice. She dropped one arm down to her side. Feeling the handle of the smoking bandit, her fingers wrapped tightly about it. It took her a moment to recognize the voice.

Laska.

A spell of silence answered the nun before Roslyn took a deep breath, the air billowing out in a warm mist. Things were suppose to heal with time, but her emotions became more raw with each passing day. Her other arm kept the wrapped item close to her body.

"I would agree with you, but... Things happen that we can't control or help. It's hard to know who to trust." She said in a tone harsher than she intended. "Why are you here?"

The Rezaindian did not emerge, but her voice did again, just as smooth and cold. "Do you know what that thing is, Roslyn Wicke of Arkney, daughter of Blythe?"

"Yes." Roslyn's eyes narrowed at hearing her mother's first name. "After seeing what happened in Viiqii, the danger of it isn't lost on me."

"That is the divine artifact of Ahn-Eshiran, whom I serve. I am pledged to defend it." She emerged from the shadows, the blackness of her robes melting away into their true red. She did not seem... hostile, for what it was worth.

Roslyn didn't move, but her grip on her weapon didn't loosen. Her eyes remained locked on the figure that finally revealed herself. "Why didn't it stay in your people's care?"

"Stolen," the nun answered immediately, "when there was a schism and an anti-optimate." She narrowed her eyes. "A Hendlish anti-Optimate."

All at once, however, she shrugged. "But I'm a sister of the sword, not a historian." She pursed her lips. "I couldn't tell you more."

Anger flared in Roslyn's eyes as she got onto her feet. "There's no way my mother was involved in that. She couldn't have been. She knew how dangerous the artifact was and if the damn curse hadn't..."

She trailed off as all the fury in her died. Her shoulders slouched and she leaned against the wall, collecting herself once more. "I don't think she stole it, but... I have more questions than I have answers. Anyone I know with those answers are dead."

For a moment, the nun stood there, unreadable. Quietly, she made the sign of the Pentad for them. Her eyes seemed no longer the cold orbs they had previously been when she regarded the skull, however. Instead, a sparkle of wonder lit them. "I have heard tell that you may speak, with this divine piece, through the veil that Ahn-Eshiran lowers." Those same eyes flicked Roslyn's way, studyingly, almost... expectantly. "I shall not judge you, for I have seen much the same as you and it was..." Edyta glanced away and swallowed. "unpleasant," she finished, businesslike again.

Roslyn spotted the warmth melt through the icy gaze. "Thanks. I thought I knew her. After reading her notes, I realized I didn't really know her at all."

Her hand propped her weapon against the wall while she finished unwrapping the skull. "Mother's notes confirmed the mention of speaking with the dead. I don't recall any mention of it, but I suspected she tested it a few times. I can't be certain."

Edyta tilted her head to the side, a lock of reddish hair falling free of her habit. "Well," she remarked, "perhaps you should test it." She tucked the stray hair back in, face serious but not unkind. "If you do not know the words," the Rezaindian advised, "you may repeat after me."

Roslyn looked down at the skull now sitting in her hand. It was light, but heavy at the same time. A smile crept to Roslyn's lips in what felt like ages. "Thank you."

She tried to recall anything about words, but none came to mind. "Sad to say, my mother was smart enough not to leave the words in her notes."

Edyta nodded. "I do not know for certain - this is something more for the Grey Order - but, regardless of our calling all Rezaindians are taught this one set of words that has always seemed..." She furrowed her brow thoughtfully. "Out of place, to me." Her eyes went to the artifact. "Hold it, now, in both hands: your eyes gazing into its."

The nun took a deep breath. "Mother of beginning's end, she to whom life's will doth bend, lift your hazy veil, I pray, that I may speak beyond the day." She swallowed and continued. "Let these words reach..." She trailed off momentarily. "And then, you say the name."

Roslyn took in what Laska said before she held skull out in front of her. Her eyes looked into the dark, empty sockets as they seemed to stare back. A shakiness entered her voice as she began to repeat the Rezaindian's words. By the time she reached her mother's name, the fear faded to be replaced by confidence and affection. "Blythe Wicke."

She waited there for a long stretch of time. The eerie quiet pricked at her skin causing her to cast a look in Laska's direction. "Did I miss somethi-"

The skull emitted heat causing her sentence to cut off midway. She whipped her head back, feeling the energy crawl up her skin and draw goosebumps. Her breath caught in her throat when a deep, crimson glow grew in the artifact's center. She carefully tilted the face of the skull upward and then spotted a pair of bright 'pupils' staring back at her. The jaw dropped open as a familiar, echoing voice filled the room.

"I am Blythe Wicke and I'm listening." Her mother's voice lacked any weakness or rasp from her illness.



Roslyn found herself speechless. The little bubble holding back her emotions finally burst. Tears of pain and joy streaked down the curve of her cheeks at the sound of her mother's voice. How could she have forgotten it? With a single breath, her heart poured out all at once. "Mother? Is that really you?"

Her hand pulled from the skull and wiped the water from her vision.

The skull's eyes flickered with a response. "Roslyn? It is, but how?" Blythe realized the answer. "You found my notes? And the skull, didn't you? "

Roslyn's smile faltered and a sheepish expression surfaced on her face. "Yes, Garith sent them to me. Took some time to read. I managed to locate the skull in Viiqii, within a bog. You were right about it doing great harm in the wrong hands."

A sigh spilled out from the gaping mouth. "I should've known someone would've stolen after I died. Was it Don Cojones? I can't see Eike or Nsai doing it, even if she was unstable."

"How did you know?"

"He spotted me use it once. One night he attempted to steal it and I put an end to that. I made it clear if he tried again, there would be no mercy and I would leave no trace of him."

Roslyn tilted her weight from one side to the other, rarely ever recalled hearing her mother threatening anyone. It sent another shiver down her spine as she moved on. "How did you get the skull?"

" It was given to me by a friend, Czesław Wiater. He was investigating something before he disappeared without a trace." A bitterness entered Blythe's voice as she continued on. "This was after I decided to cut ties with my side of the family. The rumors say it was some thing tied to the church, but I never found out the details."

"That explains why you rarely stepped into one." Roslyn took a deep breath then asked her next question.

"Mother, I have a few questions about the family curse. Has anyone in our family ever reacted to a certain magic? Like being slightly itchy to..." Her free hand tapped on her thigh as she considered her next word, "...temporal?"

The skull went still, the orbs died into dark voids once more. A bit of time passed as if her mother was taking in all the information given to her.

"No." Fear crept into Blythe's voice. "Roslyn, did you learn temporal magic?"

"Yes..." Her face scrunched up. She didn't like the direction her mother's tone was taking.

"I did everything I could to keep your brother and you from learning it. How? And who? It's not a magic you can simply pick up like kinetic."

Edyta glanced away for a moment. Normally, she might've faded into greyspace for this and allowed for a private conversation, but that had been a strange and confusing place of late.

Tendril demons, she was able to suss out fromt he conversation. Temporal magic called tendril demons over, and they were among the most difficult of all. There was a momentary spark of curiosity within the nun's eyes, but she smothered it quickly. All that she needed was the skull. It must be kept safe. There had been two many thefts of the sacred artifacts - too many misuses of them.

Into greyspace she decided to go - just barely.

Roslyn became quiet. She lowered her eyes, still fixed on the skull's glowing eyes and chattering jaw. Her form retreated back onto her bed as she rested on the edge. Instead of answering the first question, she asked one of her own. "Mother, why is temporal bad?"

The skull clicked a bit in thought. "Your great-grandfather thought he could change our debt by changing our past. He summoned every single one of our family gifted in temporal to a specific location. It was a foolish thing because it drew monsters to us. Many were slaughtered, but your grandfather had been grabbed and was... marked."

"Marked?"

"Yes, the origins of the family curse.

"So... you're telling me..." Roslyn's anger bled into her tone while she continued. "... you died and we're all suffering because of some old fool's decision to not be poor?"

"Yes." Sensing her daughter's wrath surfacing, Blythe fell back to a prior question. "I ask you again, how and who taught you temporal?"

"No one," Roslyn half lied. While she might've studied it during the trials, it felt eerily familiar. Like she had encountered it a long time ago. "I learned it on my own. The trials used it in mano e mano so I figured it out from there."

"I've only heard of that trial, never participated. Most of my classmates found the idea barbaric and cruel. Then again, that's the world we-" Blythe corrected her words, briefly forgetting her status, "the world you live in now."

"Did you discover more about the mark? Is there a way to remove it?"

"I did some traveling during my school year and met a bloodchild named Nsai from Sawand. Due to her talent with necormancy, she worshiped these 'demons' in a way. She told me what she suspected was the purpose for it. She said our family was blessed." Blythe's voice disagreed with Nsai's words. "There was no way to remove it and she seemed confused to why I wanted it gone."

"Of course there isn't. Why would there be?" Roslyn mumbled through gritted teeth, "Did you write any of this down?"

"Yes. It's all in a chest. Check my favorite room in the house, you'll find a hidden door leading down. Just be careful not to break the seal when you open it or you'll get a face full of Eshiran's Breath."

The words made Roslyn's head cock to one side. "Eshiran's Breath?"

"Best explained in my notes. It was dangerous enough for Hendland's nobility to issue laws that ensured it disappeared completely. I am not sure how your father got his hands on some, but he refused to let me near any of it."

"I guess that's a question to ask him when I go home."
Roslyn bit her bottom lip. "What is it?"

"I need you to keep the Skull of Eshiran out of the wrong hands. Artifacts are dangerous if abused. You can't let that happen."

"I know." She admitted, considering how much to tell. It wasn't like her mother could protect her anymore and worrying wouldn't help. Did her mother even see beyond heaven? "Don Cojones took it after you died. I tracked it down and found it in Viqii. I think it gave life to a monster which we killed."

"We?"

"Yes. I had help from some friends." It was a small lie, but she didn't know what else to say.

"Evil is not easy to stop. It takes root and grows in silence. If you didn't stop it properly, it will surface when you least expect it."

"I threw all the magic I had at it. I'm not sure what else I could've done."

"Then hopefully, it was enough. I have a few notes on temporal. The mark is connected to its usage and will spread when you use it too much."

"I understand." Roslyn struggled with the next part as her eyes sting, unable to cry anymore. She dreaded this moment. "Good bye, mother."

"Good bye, Roslyn. Remember that I love you and I always will." The glowing eyes of the skull dimmed and went dark.

Edyta, however, did not return right away. She was absent, still in greyspace. Just what she may have been doing there - or what might've happened to her - continued to be an unknown to Roslyn, a good while after the last of the light had faded from the Skull of Ahn-Eshiran's eyes.

Roslyn took a deep breath and leaned back, resting her head against one of the four posts. It wasn't until some time had passed that she noticed Laska's absence. Her eyes scanned the room, expecting to see the nun lurking in a shadowy corner or something. Nothing. She bit her lower lip when a familiar paranoia crept along her spine.

Her hand lowered to her side, fingers tightening on the handle of her smoking bandit. She stretched out her magic senses.

Zarra played games with his ability, but that behavior didn't fit Laska. At least from what little the girl knew of her. Roslyn casually reached into her nightstand for something. She pressed the skull against her middle while still eyeing her surroundings. She was suppose to be safe here... right?

Roslyn would not know it, and it would be a source of anxiety for hours to come, but Edyta had lost track of time in greyspace, for her instance of it was not so very grey anymore. The sun lay on fields heavy with great green stalks of corn. Trees swayed in a gentle breeze, a great willow reaching down over the water. The sound of a woman's singing, in Warlish, drifted out across the idyllic scene. The Rezaindian walked barefoot, feeling the dirt between her toes, knowing the path that led from the well to the river to home. She lay on the grass and soaked up the sun and didn't think of death for some time, not until she returned, anyhow.

The only thing missing was people to share it with.

When Laska had returned, Roslyn still sat on her bed. There was only a few minor changes to note. Her hands sported purple gloves with gold filigree and two types of skull designs. Upon the night table was an open box with its lid pulled open. Her other hand held onto the smoking bandit as if expecting trouble. The skull remained in her lap, within easy reach.

For over an hour that ticked by, Roslyn had considered what to do. She couldn't sense anything outside the normal. It should've put her at ease, but it didn't. It only caused more questions to pool in the back of her mind. When Laska materialized back into her room, Roslyn eyes turned to her. Her voice broke the silence. "Well, I wasn't sure if you were coming back or not."

One of her legs were dangling off the edge of the bed as she studied the cloaked nun. "Did something happen? Or did you simply lose track of time?"

Edyta blinked. She pursed her lips and considered. "Very sorry about that," she offered after a moment. "I just..." She shrugged. There was a small pip of chemical magic that Roslyn did not immediately notice and the Rezaindian blushed. "Well, I fell asleep," she admitted, glancing quickly away. "Unprofessional of me, I know."

They sat for a moment before Edyta knit her fingers in her lap. "But... I trust you found what you were looking for?" she inquired, "at least in some form?"

At Laska's dismissal, Roslyn's eyes tightened and stared a bit longer. Finally her form slackened and her hand pulled away from her weapon. She seemed to have reached a verdict shortly after the blush. "Wish sleep came that easily to me. Especially lately."

She snorted at the nightmare that hounded her before the Red Rezaindian arrived. When the mattress sank in, her gaze flickered up to spot the nun settle in on the bed's opposite side.

After the heavy silence became broken by Laska's question, she forced a smile. "Yes... and no. I have answers, but also more questions. And only the faintest idea of where to look."

"All this time, I thought myself a simple, brewery girl. Now..." Her hands lightly rested on the skull as she finished. "I don't know what to think."

"All this time," Edyta began, "I thought myself a steadfast servant of Ahn-Eshiran, made for this purpose and sharpened by her experiences." She snorted. "And now I find I might be nothing more than a simple farm girl."

Roslyn wanted to talk. She needed to talk and it could not be cleared up quickly and Edyta had both a mission and too many things to distract her from what she was. Then, the Hendlishwoman's words hit her: "I thought myself... now..."

"You're still you," she said abruptly, with a shrug as if it were self-evident. "The same 'you' that you were yesterday. You've just learned more about how you came to be and it wasn't what you expected. The good news is that you change where you're going whenever you like." She blinked. She wasn't good at this sort of thing. It was a job for a Hundrian, or maybe a Stresian. There was a reason that Edyta had been assigned to the order that centered around death.

That, too, was clearly bothering Roslyn. "For now," she advised, beginning to rise, "rejoice in the fact that you have done a good thing, and mourn that others have died." She shook her head. "But not so greatly. Ahn-Eshiran takes who she will to heaven when she wills it." She shook her head. "Or to hell." The skull was there. It was an instrument of the goddess' power left behind for mortal hands to use. It had been missing for quite some time indeed. Then, it occurred to her that she didn't know very much how it had ended up in the hands it had. "Oh, so... what did you learn?" She tilted her head with perhaps her first flash of genuine inquisitiveness in ages.

Roslyn looked at Laska with surprise. While the woman struggled with elegant words of wisdom, she was far from lacking it. The idea of relating to this strange woman made her smile. What an odd pair they were, nearly total opposites. "When you put it that way, it makes it easier to chew. I'll try to keep it in mind for the future. Sadly, when it comes to the gods I am not sure where I'd end up."

She moved on to what she suspected Laska wanted to hear the most. "I was right, my mother didn't steal it. It was given to her by a friend named Czesław Wiater. I'm guessing he knew she could protect it better than him, but after that he disappeared. She said rumors told her he was investigating the church when he did."

Her eyes turned to Laska. "Do you think the anti-Optimate members still exist or were they dealt with?"

Edyta shrugged, not much inclined to speculation. "I am a foot soldier of Eshiran," she replied, and so it was. "There are always antioptimates: cardinals bitter about losing at the conclave, borderline heretics, those with their own agendas." She sighed. "It is my place to fight them when and where I am told, by the word of Dami, in Eshiran's name." They sat there in the silence of her response for a moment. "I will report this. It may save lives, but the truth is simply that this is far above my station."

She paused and they were just... present, in that room. "But that may not always be the case, especially if I come back with a divine artifact in my hands." She nodded slowly. "I may not be a soldier forever."

Roslyn leaned back in the bed, her grip loosened upon the skull as it sat in her lap. She bit her lower lip a moment before attempting to lighten the mood. "It could be worse. You could itch around temporal magic like me. During mano e mano, it was like I dipped my elbow in itching powder every round."

Her smile fell a bit when memories of Niallus and Esmi surfaced. She lowered her head a bit moving on with a more serious tone. "Apologies, I thought a little humor might help."

The girl lifted the skull up in her hands. She took one last look at it before her hand stretched out and offered it to Laska. "I'm going to take a gamble and trust you. I'm hoping this choice won't come back later and haunt me."

Edyta did not laugh at Roslyn's line about itching, and the Hendlishwoman felt awkward enough about that, apparently, that she felt the need to apologize for it. ironically, it was her finishing sentence that brought a wry smile to Edyta Laska's face. "Haunt me later," she repeated with a snort, accepting the artifact with some reverence. You know, because it's a skull, she nearly said, but she didn't. She held it preciously for a moment, simply looking at it - feeling the weight of it in her hands. This was a thing that had been held by Ahn-Eshiran herself. It was a thing of her. "I meant... thank you," Edyta said softly, peeling her eyes away from the wonder for a moment. She rose quite suddenly. "Thank you. Your trust is not misplaced."

Roslyn fought not to stick her tongue out at the nun. So the death nun has a morbid sense of humor. Better than none, I suppose, she made a note to remember that for later. Her eyes watched Laska stand upright and guessed she was in a hurry to leave. "I guess time will tell, won't it? Good luck."

Edyta bowed in quick reverence. "Reshta willing, Miss. Wicke. It has been a pleasure."

The Hourglass Order

Mahal Agha

"I wasn't expecting you. Truthfully, I thought maybe a hegelan had happened across the cabin and took shelter."

The Palaparese Revolution: Chapter 3

Location: Palapar

Familiar Faces in the Snow

*

Mahal's wrapped hand pressed into her brow and shielded her vision from the snow. She squinted hard enough to make out the cabin's faint silhouette. Soon, she'd be sitting by a fire and warming her frozen bones. The thought drove her onward. Her foot lifted and trudged through the thick snow as she tried to spot Sikuaq roosting nearby.

No sharp chirp of excitement greeted her or flurry of wings clashed with her skin. This absence of greeting caused Mahal to frown. Her eyes looked closer at the cabin. She then noticed the faint signs of smoke trailing from the chimney.

She adjusted her sack across her shoulder, trying to recall who else knew about this place. Nothing came to mind. It didn't surprised her since the last few days had become a blur over all.

With a heavy sigh, Mahal pushed onward. She'd let the stranger wait out the mild storm before chasing them off her property. Then she would set out to find her snow wyvern and bring her back here, apologizing in the form of jerky treats. Her mitt slammed into the wood as it knocked away the white strips plastered on it.

"Whoever you are, open up. I can see someone's in there."

The man within looked to the door, he was the only one in at the moment. He heaved a sigh and stood up from his stool. Looking to his companion within the cabin and chuckling as he threw a piece of his jerky to the dragon.

While it would be expected ot be those with him in this hidden place, many were moving right now and preparing for what was to come. Yet he was here just spending some time thinking how things needed to go.

He began to stand and walk towards the door, as he opened he greeted the gracious host with, "Well hello, there, long time no see".

There stood Black King, the volti who met Mahal no more than a few days ago.

He took a light side step to the side as he gestured in, "Come in, come in. It is warm inside".

Sikuaq's head snapped up the offered jerky as she gobbled it down greedily. Her clawed wing tip pinning the morsel down while her beak ripped into smaller pieces. She had allowed this human, with offerings of meat, to exist in her domain. Her feathered head perked up when she heard the door creak open.

Mahal's dark eyes widened when she came face to face with a familiar man. She cursed her forgetfulness as he spoke, gesturing her inside. How could she forget she had given him this location? Knowing her regret changed nothing, the woman's expression relaxed and she stepped inside. The warmth of the interior melted the icy pricking in her lungs causing her to be grateful to be out of the snow and cold.

"I wasn't expecting you. Truthfully, I thought maybe a hegelan had happened across the cabin and took shelter."

Her gaze turned to the Snow Wyvern who chirped at her. It didn't take her long to notice the small, dried chunks of meat smeared across the beak. "Makes sense now how she let you get close.. Are you the only one here?"

Black King chuckled at Mahal's surprise to see him, "Well I hope this one is more welcomed than a random passerby".

He began to sit as he lightly nodded and threw another piece to the Snow Wyvern as he nodded to Mahal's question, "For now I am, yes".

His gaze then turned to Mahal, "And you?"

"I'm not sure this cramped place can hold that many at once. I'll have to figure out how to expand the room and patch up the cracks." She tried not to cringe at the thought of it, realizing the place needed a lot of improvements. That was a problem for another time as she considered his choices of subject.

"Did you expect it to?" Mahal scoffed a bit, her hand reached out and tenderly brushed alongside Sikauq's neck feathers, " If Lunara wasn't there, I'm sure it would be worse."

Her hand pulled back and rubbed the inside of her other. "Some times it surprises me how I'm still alive. I think it is because I'm afraid to die or maybe that my ancestors refuse to take me.... Not that it matters. That aside, I'm sure the elite will forget about you and the rebellion before too long. It wouldn't surprise me if they think it all failed like others."

He chuckled slightly, Black King shook his head as he said, "Living is the hardest task the gods task us to do-"

His gaze turned to the fire as he continued, "-yet it is something we all wish to do. Somewhere deep down".

He looked back to Mahal as he continued, "Yes, I'm sure they will think of us as nothing more than some wanna-be revolutionists who got sick and died in the forest"

He shook his head as he continued, "Either way, I must thank you again for this location. While not idealic in weather, it works to our advantage. As few would dare venture here without cause and purpose".

He looked to Mahal once more, "Do you regret it? Joining in this fight?"

"Yes, not many islanders enjoy the cold." Mahal shifted her body to the right. She reached into her pouch and withdrew two jerky strips. Sikuaq sniffed and puffed out, recognizing the scent. She stared hard at the meat with an expecting look. With a sigh, Mahal tossed the greedy creature one of her pieces while she took a bite of her own. "You act like I don't feed you pounds of meat whenever I come up here, Sikuaq." She chided between chews.

After finishing it, she grabbed another and offered it to him. "Even if I did, it changes nothing. I'm in it for better or worse. Looking back with regret doesn't solve problems, but creates hesitation. I rarely think of what's to come because what happens now matters the most to me."

Her right hand turned over as her left hand's thumb traced the palm. Despite its pristine appearance, she had memories of it being severed from her arm. The image remained fresh in her mind. She recalled from the way the skin twitched down to the dulling color. She barely recalled what she stole, but she knew the reason.

Black nodded, "I understand that. What needs to be done in the now is often times as hard as to think what is to come, sometimes too daunting for many".

He looked to the hungry dragon as he continued. "Some are cursed with minds that think too hard on 'what-ifs' as if they are what will come. Things can change, it just takes those who are willing to do what is needed now".

He took a moment as grabbed some jerky from his bag. Throwing the piece to the dragon as he looked to Mahal, "I've been curious, has anything happened where you are during this time? I assume not as there hasn't been any reports".

Her eyes met his, a sign of respect, while she paused to think.

"Things have been going back to normal mostly. However, Lunara has been determined to make changes in the elite circles. I don't see her much difference with individuals like my father and Virang in charge."

She leaned back against the wall as the cold contrasted against the cabin's warmth. "I heard my father talking with one of his associates. Rumors about Baykara heading back to Virang and a banquet at the Queen's palace. It's in honor of 'peace'." Mahal's lip curled at the very word.

Black King began to nod his head, "Ah, yes, a banquet of peace. Peace among Virang and who Virang put upon a pedestal".

He chuckled a moment as he continued, "However, their proclivity for decadence will be an opportunity for us".

Mahal found herself agreeing with the masked man. Most of the elite fell into this area, but a few broke the tradition and her half-sister seemed like one. Her right eyebrow arched at the man's chuckle before she spoke. "How so?"

Curiosity filtered out in her tone causing her to draw it back. Her hands had started to rub her arms, the friction warming her chilled skin. After gulping down her last chunk of meat, Sikuaq fluttered up into the rafter. Her weight caused the wood to creak as she tucked her slender head beneath her wing. Despite her act, one of her eyes still remained semi open to observe them causing the woman to shake her head.

Black King chuckled slightly at Mahal's curiosity seeming to get the best of her. He decided to satiate it, "Well so many of those who need to be done away with will be there. I suppose it would be a good time to do it".

While hints of darkness could be heard. It was not as if his tone changed all that much. After all, killing was something that had to happen. If this was to be a bloodless revolution, it would have never needed to come as far as it had.

"It might, or make it worse." Mahal's eyes turned down, finding the floor. A seriousness fell over her as it contrasted with his dark humor. "Lunara wants to change things her way, using more passive ways. I doubt it will work. When it doesn't, she's not the type to apply violence when needed."

She watched a small wall of mist form from her breath. " Someone has to do it for her. And that someone will have to be me... As much as I hate to admit it."

Black King nodded his head, "Yes, some wish to do things with complete moral goodness".

He nodded some more as he turned to the fire, "Yet you are right. Someone must perform what must be done. For that is our role. To pave the way, so someone may do it 'the right way'".

He chuckled at the last part. Right and wrong seem all to muddied. Especially during their time.

"I wonder, what would you wish to become. Once everything is over".

The question wasn't one Mahal expected so she had no real answer for it. All her life she had been taught by her own father she was worthless and weak. If the Black King had asked her before she came to Ersand'Enise, she'd scoffed then walked away. Never giving the question any deeper thought.

Now...

"Truthfully, I was told I was weak and worthless. Nothing I did changed it." Her thoughts turned to the nights she stared up in the stars, cold and hungry. "I never gave it thought until now. It's hard to know what is possible."

Black King allowed a moment to pass after he listened to Mahal's words. He turned to her and lightly gave a response, "Think on it then. After all, this work is not just for Palapar. It is for you as well. This is going to pave a path for a future for you to see and live in. Not just for others".

Black King began to stand and walked towards the door, "Remember that, and give some thought on what you want to be. As the future is the 2nd hardest thing the Gods ask of us to strive towards".

He then turned to Mahal, "I'll be heading out to gather some supplies. You said you wished to make some improvements to the cabin. With you just arriving to the cabin from the cold, I'll head out and secure the materials while you warm up".

He placed his hand over his chest and gave a light bow as he opened the door. The cold white outside made him cut a striking figure. His black clothing being all too easily seen. Yet after stepping out, the colors blended so quickly. His once striking figure disappeared into the white nothing as if he was never there. After which, the door closed, by something hard to say was ever there.

Exile's End

**

The decision had been a hotly contested one. Some maintained at the time - and continued to - that Kalingnan was a vital position at the heart of the island's southern half, that they ought to have held it at all costs, to pressure the capital and continue to draw more recruits to their cause. Some maintained that leaving it had been a mistake that would see them crushed. These called upon their brethren to see to their moral duty. They could not allow their brothers in arms in the capital and its nearby environs to perish at the hands of their Virangish oppressors. They could not allow the tyranny continue for so much as a moment longer.

Others understood the nature of regime change somewhat better. Others, had further irons in the fire: irons that they were eager to use but that they best knew were applied with patience, just as they had been heated and shaped. Beneath its apparently cooling surface, Palapar bubbled. Palapar seethed. Perhaps, in the past, Ren Baykara's show of brutality, at the behest of Piyale Karga and Ertan Kashani (though the latter would never admit to it), might've been enough to cow them. This was the case no longer and, so, as those in the capital prepared for a celebration in two days' time, as most (though not all) began to relax, they trickled in towards the city: that swelling number of rebels from the countryside.

Some were discontented tenant farmers or freeholders, dockworkers, bandits, remnants of broken families. Others had heard of the twin massacres at San Sameno: how two brave Revidians had stood up to Virangish tyranny alongside their own, and how dozens had been killed for the simple crime of commemorating the dead and wishing, themselves, to live on.

Literacy was not very high in Palapar, for it was not to the benefit of those in charge that those beneath them should be able to read. Yet, through scratchings and crude paintings on walls, by word of mouth and secret message, news of the atrocities spread, as did the notion that they had somehow been both too much and not enough, as did - further - that Ren Baykara had scampered off to Virang to celebrate his victory and move onto his next heinous act against more familiar peoples.

They toasted each other in their hilltop mansions. Their ships, plundered less than a month prior, grew fat with riches in Arangal harbour. They even prepared a banquet in the queen's palace, in honour of the 'peace'. Oh, certainly, Lunara Agha had come to the capital, a firebrand, but one could not undo so much inertia in mere weeks, and particularly when it appeared that brutality had paid dividends. Was the queen with the Virangish or against them? That was a question that weighed on many minds across the country, though particularly on those of the men and women who had committed themselves to overthrowing their unwelcome overlords. Of course... there were a handful who knew the answer...

---

After the cabin encounter, Mahal witnessed her sister's push for change among the elites. While Lunara held out hope, Mahal's cynical nature knew better. It came as no surprise when nothing seemed to happened. Their father knew the outcome and did nothing to aid, but he left Lunara to learn the cold truth. Nothing changes in Palapar.

Not until now.

While her sister wanted to avoid violence, Mahal saw it as the only way to open the eyes of the ignorant. She just had to ensure Lunara or her loved ones didn't become victims of it.

Her opportunity came when her father planned a trip to the capital. She merely tagged along on the condition she remained out of sight and mind. That seemed easy enough depending if her role allowed it.

Two days before the celebrations, Mahal took a nightly stroll into the city. Her hands gripped the ledge of her window as she silently plummeted to the ground. Upon hitting the flagstones, her hounds rushed to her side and together they melted into the shadows. Lamp lighter and individuals seemed to stalk along the paths causing her to get lost not once, but three times. When Mahal finally reached her destination, she leaned against the filthy wall and rested. Someone was suppose to meet her here. Who, she didn't know... but the why was obvious. Her role in this coming event needed to be clear.

A taller figure appeared from the shadows and rest against the wall. Still masked in shadows the voice of a woman cut the silence. Her accent was different to what would be heard in Palapar, the woman had a very thick Perrench accent.

"Good evening", the woman spoke with a cheerful voice.

She allowed a moment of pleasantries before she continued, "So I assume you already know what is happening?"

Mahal tensed when she heard the woman's voice. Supok and Puno bristled at the unfamiliar voice as their lips pulled back and fangs flashed. Her hand held, commanding them to stay. Obediently, their haunches curled and they sat. However, their eyes never strayed from the voice's source.

Her eyes squinted into the darkness, but saw nothing. A moment passed before she broke the silence. "Evening. And some of it, but not everything. Maybe you could help fill in what I'm missing?"

She wasn't sure if this woman was the one she was suppose to meet or not. So she kept her words close to her chest, treading lightly in the conversation.

The woman coo'd at Supok and Puno, "What beauties' you have!"

She chuckled slightly as she got back onto topic, "Perfect, so we don't have to dally on the basics. Your job is actually quite simple. Before the party starts, your job will be to get 'guests' in".

The woman nodded to herself as she continued, "After that you will just be having a good time, talk to VIPs, ensure they have a good time. After which before the fun begins, ensure that you can move them away from the dance floor. Such as your sister and mother and a few other note worthy persons. It will get crowded quickly and some people are better than taking on such a hectic dance".

She slightly chuckled, seeming quite chuffed with herself as she lightly handed a piece of paper to Mahal, "As the boss says, some people are better dance partners in the court than outside of it. However some are more agreeable when they witness both".

Though she should've felt on edge, a sense of pride filled Mahal at the comment of her hounds. She continued to listen to the woman as she took the list, tucking the paper somewhere safe. Without using magic, which risked drawing attention, she couldn't read it in the dark.

"Sounds simple enough. What happens if some of them... refuse to be led off the dance floor or jump back into? I doubt all of them will listen to me and I don't think using force will look good." She knew her sister would be one of the few who would try to save someone caught in the bloodbath.

The woman thought for a moment as she lightly tapped her face with her finger. After a bit of time of her thinking she finally answered, "Well most of the other dancers don't care who they find as partners. So I think you will be having to be doing the escorting alone. However I think most will find it hard to want to compete with some of the dancers once it gets started".

"Ugh. Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but I'm not surprised." Mahal grumbled. She pulled back and peaked out from the alley toward either of the connected paths. The only signs of light was someone with a torch, climbing to light the posts that had been snuffed out. They seemed still a fair distance away causing her to exhale with relief.

Her attention turned back to the woman. "I hope so. People can be unwise at the worst of times. Is there a signal when the dance starts or is it happening at a certain time?"

The woman chuckled slightly as she said slyly, "Oh you'll know when it'll happen. The big man always loves making a flashy entrance. Do be warned though, you might feel weak in the knees when it happens. You should already be out of there before it really gets to you for what its worth".
"It won't be the first or the last I'll have to endure that sensation." Mahal knew too well what it felt like be helpless at the feet of someone powerful. A flicker of memories entered her head, but she shrugged it away. No matter what, she always managed to survive somehow. Reaching down to rub Supok's head, she then added. "I'll try, but some times what we want and what happens are two different things. I suppose that's all I need to know then unless you forgot to mention something?"

The woman tossed her head side to side for a moment before she said, "Nope, nothing else the boss wants to pass along. You got everything for the job, so I'll be taking my leave". The woman sat in the shadows as she gave a light nod and a wave before she sank deeper into them. Seeming to disappear entirely.

Mahal rubbed Supok's ear a bit more before she took her own leave. With a soft whistle, the two hounds perked up and darted after her. The three shadowy figures moved down the alley and into the street, reaching her current home quickly. Her thoughts focused on the short goals, but she forgot the possible consequences. A flaw she'd reap the rewards of sooner than later.

Night of Short Knives: Palace

***

As agreed upon, Mahal stood off to one side of her family and avoided attention. She took in the gala's extravagant scene bit by bit. Guests stood in groups, their conversations fade in and out of the background music. Drinks tinged while gossip spread on loose lips. Underfoot, a few unruly gomas darted among the legs as they chased each other in circles. Eventually one chased the other up a tree display where they lounged among the foliage. Servers, burdened with trays, drifted between the guests offering them various delicacies.

A sense of isolation washed over her causing her anxieties to build. It danced on her skin until...

Her eyes found her father's glare. She lowered her eyes and moved out of sight, parting the crowd along the way. After plucking a glass from a passing tray, she pressed her back into a wall. It became obvious she didn't belong here.

Supok whined drawing Mahal's head to tilt down. Her gaze softened at the antsy pup causing her to gentle scratch the canine's ear. Taking a moment to center herself, Mahal inhaled and pushed down the apprehension. She sipped on the wine and let the familiar tingle bubble in the back of her mind. It wouldn't last long as she began to locate her targets.

Once their introductions ended, Ruslan offered his arm to his first wife, Dalma. Her slender arms looped into his as she kept pace with him. While guiding her through the crowds, he caught sight of Ceren on the outer edges. A warning glare sent her slithering into the crowds without a trace.

"Do you think they will show?" Dalma asked.

"Focus on the gala."

"Very well,"Dalma then spotted a friend and her husband. With a gentle tug, she pulled him closer and fell into conversation. A look exchanged between the men while they stood politely nearby. Half listening, Ruslan sampled a stuffed kicker snail from a tray.

Halah frowned at the girl in armor. "That's not fit for the gala. Is this some type of joke or tradition?"

Raffaella's introduction interrupted their conversation as all head turned toward her.

"Of course she would be here." The woman said, gesturing her glass toward the pink haired girl.

"You know her?" Ruslan broke his silence at last.

"Based on rumors, nothing more. Some sort of prophet or something. Personally, I wouldn't pay it much mind. I think she's some poor girl who's managed to gain some attention. It will fade with time."

"Curious. That cat is the largest I've seen. I wonder what breed it is. It's certain not a goma." Dalma commented while her eyes studied the large feline.

"With any luck, it might eat her." Halah jested as she sipped on her wine.

Another noble spoke, "Justice is a fine word, my lady, but the cost of such upheavel is high. You can't expect the economy to survive such generosity."

Lunara matching his dismissive tone with conviction, "And what cost will the next uprising bring? How long will your estates, your businesses, remain intact if the embers of this rebellion reignite, and worse, fueled by broken promises?"

A third noble asked, "You believe they'll return?"

"I know they will." Lunara nodded, "They left the Agha estate because they were willing to give us a chance at a peaceful resolution. Their trust will only extend so far before its fragility cracks and their ignored voices raise to battle cries."

"What would you propose?"

Lunara softened her tone, "Fair wages for their labor. Reasonable working hours. The chance to own land after years of servitude. These aren't radical demands; let us offer them a seat at the table, rather than see them tear the table apart."

"It is a calculated risk, stability through reform rather than suppression-an approach we've never tried."

Vizier Karga scoffed, "And who will enforce these changes? Who will bear the burden of convincing the courts?"

Lunara met his gaze with quiet intenisty, "I will. I've already begun. But I need allies-people of influence like yourselves to stand with me. Together, we can avert the next conflict before it begins."

The nobles who at this point surrounded the conversation, captivated by the topic had broke into chatter. The risks, consequences, benefits, interests, values, and the future of Palapar were all being laid out. A microcosm of beliefs battling to see who would side with her view and who would remain apart of the status quo.

Mahal knew time was ticking down as her eyes sought out her half-sister, Lunara. A familiar numbness washed over her and she detached from the scene around her. The party turned into a blur of colors, poor shapes, and sounds drifting from her attention. Where are you, Lunara? Her teeth gritted before she set the wine glass down on another tray. She needed a better position to survey the room.

An elder man stepped into her way. He continued to idly chat with two ladies, their eye batting back in a flirtatious manner. With a deep breath, Mahal flowed around him like water around an annoying rock. It was then she noticed a porter moving quickly through the party. Her eyes trailed ahead before her heart dropped. Lunara was near the vizier. With a quick whistle for Supok to follow, Mahal picked up her pace and pushed past the crowd. Catching sight of her, the porter fell back to let her handle this.

Upon reaching her half-sister, Mahal gently tapped her on the shoulder. "Sorry to interrupt, but Lunara, may I have a word with you... alone?"

Supok flipped about and pressed into Mahal's leg. Her head tilted to catch sight of her father watching them. Not good... Likely disliking what he saw, he sent Dalma to wait for him at the dance floor and then moved in to investigate. Things just got harder for her.

Lunara flicked her hair to the side as the crowd continued to chatter amongst themselves. Their waning and waxing on the issue was 'good'. It meant there was traction, and hope. As she was about to again readdress the issue to emphasize the need to act immediately her attention was tugged on by her dear sister Mahal.

"My dear sister what is it?" Lunara's eyebrows raised.

Mahal's eyes shifted to the elite's idle chit chat, their ranks divided. The progress was deceptive as they fluttered from one subject to another. In their eyes, the notion was easily entertained, but in practice harmful for them. She doubted it would progress past tonight's conversation. "I'm very anxious and I'm getting a bad feeling. We need to... leave."

By the time the words slipped from her mouth, their father loomed behind her. "Ceren..."

The mention of her name seemed harmless on the surface, but Mahal knew it was a warning. A warning to behave or suffer the consequences later. Instinctively, her eyes turned to face him and her voice burned against his icy words. "Father."

"You remember what we discussed, don't you? About not becoming a nuisance to Lunara?"

Or drawing attention to myself, Mahal added feeling trapped now.

The opulence of the gala drowned out any sense of grounded reality. It was difficult to see if any of what would be done here tonight wouldn't fall into some sort of 'dream' category. Elites waking up tomorrow, only to have been entertained by the gossip, whispers, and idle chat to keep them distracted from their real priority: managing their wealth.

The mixture of laughter, music, and glasses clinking kicked out much of Mahal's warning, 'something something, anxious, bad feeling.' Lunara asked, "What did you say?" Leaning in closer to Mahal, except for Ruslan as Ruslan did, interrupted. The two exchanged nothing close to pleasantries.

Lunara stepped forward as Ruslan wrapped up his command to Mahal, "Mahal isn’t a nuisance, Father. She’s family, and her presence is welcome." She held a firm gaze. "You, however, may go. I can manage without another reminder of my own capability."

Ruslan stiffened, then inclined his head slightly, his voice curt, "Very well. Do as you will, but tread carefully, Lunara." He turned and strode off.

Lunara turning back to Mahal, "What were you saying?"

Before Mahal could answer, a young woman emerged beside Lunara, "Lady Lunara?"

"And why, Lady Akamai, do you concern yourself with the plight of Palaparese laborers? Surely your own people have little stake in this reformation."

Maelea closed the gap more, lowering her voice, "Because justice is not confined by borders, Lady Lunara. Oppression anywhere fuels unrest everywhere. And because I know what it means to see others struggle while others revel in power and wealth." She stepped back and opened her arms to drive the point home that this gala was living proof of her words.

"You speak the truth. Perhaps you understand more than most here. If your intentions are true, your support could make all the difference. But know this Lady Akamai-I fight in favor of lives and justice. If you stand with me, you stand for that cause alone, not favor or position."

Maelea smiling warmly, "Then I stand with you, my lady." Some others spotted Lunara speaking with what appeared to be a noble. Their secret conversation intrigued the other nobles as they drew closer to Lunara and Mahal before Maelea slipped away back into the crowd. The others wanted to know about Lunara's plans, if she received support what would they get in return, and more.

Her stomach churned and she inhaled sharply. The price of her ignorance hit her hard. She wasn't the only one shook by her sudden disconnect with her magic. Supok, usually excitable and friendly, whimpered in discomfort. The canine pressed against her leg with a tremble. It was too late. As if to prove her point, a scream sliced through the party's atmosphere. It triggered an outright panic as people moved like animals fleeing a predator.

"Go, now!" Mahal commanded, pushing her sister ahead of her. Her next words turned to the firehound. "Supok, on me."

The firehound bristled and woofed. She rushed alongside the pair as they moved.

In the throes of a promising relationship to reformation, only to be punched out by the screeching of fearful people. The room went celebration to terror. Panic beset into the hearts of those preyed upon by the snakes in the room. Lunara's hand snatched by her sister and pushed ahead and commanded to "go!"

She saw her father turn toward those transforming the Gala into a massacre. The assaulters were strong in number and willing to cut anyone in their way. But how could Lunara leave when family remained behind? "No!" Lunara pushed Mahal back. "We need to get our father." The flood of people trying to escape divided Lunara and Mahal across from where Ruslan stood. Pushing through would be a fight in it of itself.

Mahal dug in her heels at her sister's resistance. Her teeth gritted and anger glared back. This wasn't the time to fight her! She glanced back to where their father disappeared among the stampede of people. She drew closer once more. "We're not getting to him that way. Father can handle himself. Trust me, right now, I need to get you somewhere safe first."

Iron flashed in Mahal's peripheral causing her to shove Lunara away from her. "Go, NOW!" She growled, turning to face the attacker. It was an elderly man, his hand tightened about a machete, then raised it again to strike. Mahal screamed. "GET OUTSIDE, NOW! I'll get father."

---

Bloody Interruption

"Oh, he's so adorable." Dalma cooed as she spied the young boy hiding behind his mother's skirts. His thumb found its way into his mouth while he continued to size her up silently. "I remember when Lunara was that age. I miss those times."

"Yes, our little Ahkeem is growing up well. He's starting to look more like his father by the day." Daria said as she placed her hand on his head. "By the way, I heard your daughter was stirring up things in the capitol. And where is Ruslan? Did he not come?"

"He's here, but he's off doing something else. Told me to meet him by the dance floor." Her eyes turned to the crowd as if expecting him to surface shortly.

A scream erupted across the party followed by a clatter of a tray falling to the ground. Daria stepped forward causing her son to jump. She coughed then blinked in shock. Stiffening, she tightened her jaw in discomfort.

"Daria?" Dalma asked seeing the odd behavior.

"Aye tink she's a lil' busy dyin' rite noaw." Came a gruff, delighted voice behind Daria.

Without thinking, Daria shoved Ahkeem toward her friend. A quiet plead to save him before she collapsed. Behind her, the man straightened upright with a stained knife in hand. The tray he had been carrying earlier had been tossed upon the ground. "Yor turn, bitch..."

He then stepped forward as Dalma fled with the crying boy.

---

Far from Easy Prey

Irritated by Lunara's words, Ruslan wandered off to find Dalma. He knew the higher his daughter soared in her ideals, the farther she'd fall. It was only a matter of time. He plucked a wine glass from a nearby tray as his eyes scanned the crowd. Where had his wife gotten to...

A scream jerked Ruslan from his thoughts. His eyes moved to the direction, spotting Lady Merut a distance away. She clenched her chest then crumble to the floor. A dark stain began to spread across the fabrics of her blouse. The server held the cause, a bloodied blade. Screams erupted as staff drew hidden weapons and lashed out at the nearest noble. Man, woman or child all became wheat underneath the blade.

He reached out to his Gift. All he felt were odd tingles and faint traces, but nothing close to the raw power he knew. What was happening? He didn't have time to ponder when a server drew a knife then rushed at him. Adrenaline kicked into the elite's veins causing him to slide along the table's edge. Unable to stop, his attacker's blade scored the wooden surface behind him. The man cried out in surprise.

Ruslan slammed his hand on the wrist and pinned it there. Meanwhile, his other shattered the glass on the table's edge. He whipped it at the man's throat. Glass buried into flesh causing blood to gush freely. Clenching his neck frantically, the old man gurgled. He crumbled across Ruslan's path, twitching away the remains of his life.

Unbothered by the violence, Rulsan stepped over the corpse. He paused long enough to grab the blade. Now he wouldn't be so helpless.

"You son of a bitch. You're gonna to die for that!" Another man screamed as a blade sliced at Ruslan's chest.

Being faster, the elite twisted to the side then countered. His blade hit home. It cut through the fabric and into the flesh, leaving behind a shallow wound. "No, but you will." Ruslan hissed.

Ruslan stabbed the blade deep into the man's arm. Blood flowed freely down the forearm as he yanked it free, his attacker forced to drop his own weapon. Clenching the wound, he glared at the elite then retreated into the crowd. Ruslan took a breath of relief. A few slashes upon his clothing reveal shallow wounds underneath, but nothing dangerous. Keeping the knife close, his eyes scanned the carnage for his wife and heir.

A few feet away, Alad stood in one place. The sounds and sights rushed around him, threatening to drown him in their chaos. His fists pressed hard into his ears while he bounced on the balls of his feet. A weak attempt to sooth himself. Too much noise. It hurts, he thought feeling a hole growing in his stomach.

"Dalma, Lunara!"

Upon hearing Ruslan shout, his eyes came to rest on the man. Fear gave away to anger and before Alad knew it, his hand tightened on the knife's handle. He rushed in. A furious scream erupted from his lungs. One hand gripped about the Ruslan's throat and shoved him against a wall. Fingers tightened about the windpipe as the blade came down toward the chest. It stopped short when the elite's arm snapped upward, blocking it.

Not willing to be bested by a whelp, he roared. "Get off me!"

His foot slipped in between their bodies and kicked at Alad's stomach. With honed reflexes, his knife whipped up and caught his attacker's chest. Alad stumbled back as Ruslan fell to one knee, gasping for breath. With his Gift missing, he lacked the means to match the boy's strength.

---

The sisters were at loggerheads, their goals the same but focused on different people. It lay bare, in some respects, their priorities. Behind them, the rumble of the taiko faded as the musicians fled. Gunshots snapped and screams filled the air. From somewhere, a trained nose could smell smoke.

Their mother had gone one way and their father the other. To one side, across what had become a killing field, lay the colonnades and the gardens, where they might seek cover and find an escape. Perhaps their parents had rushed that way. To the other lay the lavatories and the entrance atrium: a funnel into which people were streaming and being killed on an almost-industrial scale.

Then, closer to them were three men, holding down a Virangishman and hacking him up with machetes as his resistance broke down. his finely-dress wife, her clothes covered in blood, was doing her best to scramble away. One of the men, presently, turned his attention to the two girls, already searching for his next prey.

Chaos reigned in Palapar. Men and women crippled by the cleaving of savage blades. Children were toppled and stampeded over as those who gasped for air in wider spaces crushed everything to reach safety. The scene descended from opulence to grotesque. The mixture of wine, bites, and corpses filled the Gala as screams and smoke drove the fearful mad. All this death for a cause lost on the one's being delivered the message.

Lunara ripped her hand from her sister's grasp, "We're not leaving without mother and father!" As she fought her sister, she too fought the crowd of people she tried to pass. Her sights were on Ruslan, but he was lost in the stream of shoulders that bashed her side to side. Even if she could not see him, her goals remained, get to her family, get them to safety, and regroup.

Of course, hope and reality rarely met in the middle.

Mahal had grown up with violence, both verbal and physical. However, this was a whole new level for her. When Lunara jerked her arm from her grip, Mahal pursed her lips. She should've expected this, but she had hoped to get her sister out before then. "Father will be fine. We need to find Dalma."

Supok flashed her fangs followed by a rumbling growl. She held her ground near the two girls as if waiting for something. Mahal's eyes snapped to the man eyeing them. "If I was you, I would not try it. A Firehound's bite isn't worth the trouble and can be really nasty."

Her eyes scanned for Dalma's whereabouts.

The men watched the dog, eyes flicking at the girls. The dog was focused on the men. They circled, brandishing their weapons, and a few made probing moves inward, but never far enough, never close enough.

It was moments before he was upon them that Mahal saw the fourth assailant. A small man - barely older than the sisters if at all - sprung forward with a net and a short harpoon.

Lunara firmly stepped forward as three men circled, "Stand down! You don't need to do this. Whatever cause you're fighting for, this isn't the way to achieve it!" Her pain poured into each word, she hoped these men would come to reason, at least hesitate in their advance.

Mahal cursed herself for not trying to sneak in a weapon or Diyablos, but there was no time for regret. Noticing a few broken glasses and debris, she considered tossing them at the circling men. That's when she spied movement from behind them. Quickly, Mahal twisted then kicked the glass into his direction. She then cut the distance in hopes to stop him from using the net. "I don't think they are in the mood to listen, Lunara."

It shattered on impact, shards of glass spraying across the area, and a couple embedded themselves in him.

It wasn't enough.

He lunged for her. Her dog lunged for him, and out came the net. The other three bolted forward, surprisingly coordinated, and snagged it. Supok thrashed and snarled and they started to tighten the net. It took two of them, leaving Mahal and Lunara even with the others.

For a moment, they didn't even bother to respond to Lunara. Hers were just more appeals of their oppressors finally laid low, trying everything that they could to worm out of their comeuppance. All that she got was a dismissive, "Shut up, girl. Less of you means more for us."

"Honeyed words don't mean much when your magic and your laws aren't here to let you fuck us anymore."

The bigger of the two lunged, at that moment, a meat cleaver in his hand.

Lunara felt the anger spit at her like venom. Anger beget anger, and Lunara's couldn't let her's rise. The short-sightedness of these men boiled her blood but it would not disrupt her will. She focused as she did when her home was attacked by the same short-sightedness that risked her family. Words would not work this time. The bigger attacker lunged with the cleaver, Lunara sidestepped and would try to use the attacker's momentum against him, trip him, and send him toward the other attacker who was behind them.

"Supok!" Mahal hollered as her hound was netted then pinned down. A conflict surfaced: leave her sister or her dog. Impulse overrode her logic as she rushed forward, lashing out with a punch at the nearest man's head that held down her dog.

It would've worked. It should've. He grabbed her, though, instead of simply blowing past. He grabbed her and he spun and he threw her into the ground, where she landed at the edge of the net, just beside the whining thrashing snarling Supok. Mahal fared little better. The man slipped her punch and took one of his hands off of the net to deliver his own. It took the girl square on the temple and sent her stumbling backwards, dazed and reeling. She tripped on the near-prone Lunara and crashed down beside her.

Hazily, through the chaos, the shouting, and the stars in her vision, she could see Supok whining and trying to break free, no more than a couple of feet from her. She also thought that she'd sighted a face she knew, a handful of yards away, walking with purpose toward some other spot: the small man with the deep voice, one of the rebel leaders.

Lunara gritted her teeth, the impact driving a gasp from her lungs as she hit the ground beside Supok. Her anger flared momentarily, but she bit it back, forcing herself to focus once more. She saw Mahal stumble and fall beside her, and the sight of her sister's dazed state snapped her back into action.

Through the blur of chaos, Lunara caught sight of a familiar face - a rebel leader.

Lunara shouted to catch his attention, "Is this your justice? Killing unarmed women and a dog? Help, or is this rebellion just for you?"

Whether her message fell on deaf ears or not, her hand reached for the net as a contingency.

For a moment, he continued, and her hand closed around the net. Then, the man paused. He turned on the spot, looking around. He didn't see them. Somewhere, out in front of him, there seemed to be a commotion.

It was just as she started to pull that he took a final glance and his eyes seized on them. "You!" he shouted. "Lunti! Mabini!"

They did not hear him. "Lunti!" he roared, taking a step their way, "Mabini!" They twisted, one just after the other. "You were told: two girls with a dog! You leave them alone!" He stalked forward. "They aren't enemies."

"The dog, Lakan."

"I have told you: don't call me that."

"Right. Sorry, but the dog! We went for them because it was a danger. It was going to attack our people."

Supok scrabbled and howled and whined.

"Well, now you have the dog. You don't need these girls who aren't our enemies."

The other two men who Dani hadn't named regarded him apprehensively. "Go!" he demanded, "Go do what we came here for! You have real fights to fight." He shook his head. "Tie the animal, leave it, and go!"

Lunara's hand tightened around the net, her body poised to spring into action. She glanced as Mahal, her sister's wide-eyed apprehension slowly giving way to determination. This was a chance-perhaps their only chance.

This Lakan, seemed to command authority, his words carrying their weight even among those who initially resisted. His rebuke rippled the group, forcing the assailants to reassess their actions.

Appealing to this authority, Lunara straightened slightly, her voice calm but firm, "Listen to him. We're not your enemies; this chaos only adds to the bloodshed you claim to oppose. Let us go and end this slaughter."

"No, girl. Blood demands blood." The leader - Dani, if she recalled correctly from before - shook his head tightly. "You have seen it yourself now that you've tried. There are those who will never change, those who will never let us go."

The other men were at pains to protest Mahal's words, and he raised a hand to quiet them. "They do not know you and had no reason to trust your word. You both appeared and behaved like an enemy to them."

He was taking a step back. "Tonight will be painful - I take no pleasure that it is happening this way - but a new Palapar shall be born: one where its people are no longer slaves on its own land. No longer lied to. No longer prey. To do this, we must show that we have teeth of our own, claws of our own. If you cannot understand this, then we will not speak again."

Now, he started to move. "Go to the Southeast Tower, by the colonnades, be safe."

Lunara sized the man up and down. She remembered him from the estate. As she believed, the rebellion was never over, only adjusting focus.

"Your teeth and claws are obvious. After tonight, it will be your sense that will be in question. If doubt spurs of those in higher seats, if they conclude you cannot come to reason... I fear all of this... will end in vain. I hope this path does not end there."

She turned to Mahal, "Let's go find Dalma."

"No, you need to take Supok and leave. I'll look for Dalma." Mahal managed to stand straight as the pain gradually dulled. She would feel it later, but thankfully her adrenaline delayed it.

Whether or not he heard her remained unknown. He disappeared into the chaos and the sisters were left to their own devices... and their own opinions, it would appear.

"I need?"Lunara tilted her head, "did you not witness what I did here?" She stepped toward where she thought Dalma would be, "you think if it were just you in this situation that you'd have come out alive?" Lunara took another step, "I'm going to find Dalma."

Mahal gritted her teeth as she grabbed her sister's arm to stop her from walking away. "Yes, but I also recall neither of us have magic. If we run into trouble again, we'll both die. Unlike you, I'm of little importance. You... you're different. Now, will you just trust me?"

Lunara paused and turned to wrap her hand around her sister's skull, "And if something were to happen to you and Dalma? How could I live with that?"

"You don't think I feel the same? However, I'm not the heir. If I die, I'll still be with you." Impulsively, Mahal pressed her forehead against her sister then sighed. She knew her sister couldn't be reasoned with and she had become tired of fighting. "We're wasting time. Since you won't trust me, stay close."

She pulled past her sister and called Supok to follow.

Lunara pressed back, "It isn't about trust, it's about us keeping our family safe... together." She kept close to Mahal as they searched for Dalma.

Lunara spotted Dalma! Her back to the Grand Hall as she evaded the slaughterhouse by slipping into the lavatories.

"Mahal! The lavatories." Lunara started off toward Dalma.

"Shhh, hush. You need to be brave or they will find us." Dalma gently wiped away the boy's tears as she soothed his crying. She settled him in the nearest corner before scanning the chamber pots. Finding a mostly empty one, she kicked it over and emptied it. Hauling it toward the shutter, she tossed it at the only viable exit. It hit once, merely denting them. Cursing, she tried it again causing it to farther crack the thin barrier between her and the outside.

When she heard footsteps approach, her head whipped back to the door and she snatched up the machete. She fought the trembling as she held it with both hands.

"Mother?"Lunara cut through the entrance of the lavatories. Dalma stood ready and bloodied?

"It's Lunara and Mahal, are you okay?" She rushed over to her mother to see if her mother was indeed hurt.

She checked and it was not Dalma's.

"I am fine, we need to get out of here." Dalma stated. Lunara questioned, "What about father?"

"He can fend for himself, he is capable."

Lunara wasn't convinced but she heeded her mother's call for help. They did need to get out of here, or at least, help Dalma and the little one evacuate.

As they busted the shutter, Dalma gave Akeem to Lunara, "take him first." Lunara argued, "No you first." Dalma pushed into Lunara harder, "No, as your mother I must know all of you are out safely. I will be right behind you."

Lunara took Akeem and she went first. Mahal and Supoke followed. But as Dalma was about to crawl through, she felt a force pull her back.

Heavy hands worn down by hard labor grabbed Dalma's dress from behind. Her strength was no match to keep her moving forward, and as the rough hands of the stranger tossed her to the ground, Dalma screamed.

Her fear called out but without an answer from hope. Dalma's shoulder hit the ground, sliding to the wall. A second man kicked the machete from her hand before she could raise it.

Dazed and confused, she was propped up, "What're you doing rattin' around?" Dalma's head was pounding, her body aching. She wouldn't answer, only try to buy her family time.

She hurled herself at one of them, a feral scream tearing from her throat. Her fingers clawed into his face, digging deep into the soft flesh of his eyes. He howled—a guttural, panicked cry—as his hands flailed, trying to rip her off. She clung with desperate, primal strength, a strength born of sheer will, the kind only a mother fighting for her family could summon.

“Get her off me!” he shouted, his voice cracking with pain and fear. The second man lunged, his hand catching her by the hair and yanking her backward with brutal force. She hit the wall with a sickening thud, the impact stealing her breath.

Before she could recover, he moved with a reflex honed by violence. The blade found her stomach, plunging deep. Her gasp turned to a choked whimper as the steel tore through flesh. She collapsed to her knees, clutching at the hilt, her trembling fingers slick with her own blood.

“Bitch,” the first spat, still rubbing at his ruined eye, his voice dripping with venom. He managed to pry one eye open, the other streaming crimson down his cheek.

The two men backed away, their boots echoing in the chaos as they disappeared, leaving her slumped in a pool of her own blood. Dalma’s breath came in shallow, shuddering gasps. Tears mingled with the blood seeping from her wound, streaking her pale face as her vision blurred. She pressed a hand to her stomach, her life spilling out between her fingers.

Were they safe?

The Hourglass Order

Mahal Agha

"What happens now?"

The Palaparese Revolution: Chapter 2

Location: Agha Plantation, Kalingnan

Open Rebellion-Feat. Lunara

*

Aziz Mesud fell in the night and, for three days, few except those who had been there knew. Then, the masked Volto had arrived, with a ragged group of would-be revolutionaries who had fled an attack in the capital that was already being called the 'Bloody Breakfast'. He had arrived and a new campaign had begun.

The plantation was transformed within a couple of days into a training camp, the manor house fortified, and it was ensured that prisoners... wouldn't escape. Next had been Nöbetçi Tepesi (Sentry Hill) and, from there, the rebels now commanded the approach to Kalingnan crossroads and could watch every coming and going in the village nearby.

Then, on the sixth day, a pair of couriers from the capital had seen the rebels drilling and run for it. One had made it south, to the city, where the news of a revolt on the plantations of Kalingnan had spread like an inflection. Now, every day, came more scouts and messengers, and the rebels had to be quick to deal with them all. So far as they knew, none had made it anywhere significant, and their exact composition, territories they controlled, and state of readiness remained a mystery to the machinery of the RoCo.

This was just as well, for over a hundred new faces had joined them, for a variety of reasons that were largely their own. These, too, drilled and contributed, while some of the originals on the Aziz Mesud plantation remained wary of these new radicals and the seemingly suicidal path they had been committed to. They were a mismatched group, beyond a doubt, drawn together by circumstance, the will of a few powerful personalities, and a shared resentment of their Virangish masters.

It was the ninth day when a messenger had made it through, rushing the opposite way that anyone had expected. He'd arrived, disheveled, scraped, and bruised, panting and hammering on the gatehouse door of Agha plantation.

“I was cutting down ferns before it got too high. The blade slipped and,”‌ Buwan commented, showed his hand to the healer. A wide, shallow gash bled heavily from the back of his hand.

“I told him not to be careless with it.” His father, Ulan, answered. His face flashed an expression between scorn and worry.

“It doesn’t look too bad, thankfully.” Selim took the hand and examined it. He drew mana and poured his binding into the wound, ceasing the bleeding. “Best the young learn their lessons now when I can tend to their wounds. The salve will help the pain and the air will do the rest. Try to keep it clean often.”

Selim held the hand in place, dipping two fingers into the half coconut shell and coating them with a thick tallow. Lightly he traced it across the length of the wound. He didn’t wrap it since air would heal it quicker now that it wasn’t open anymore. Meanwhile, Mahal stood off at the side. She inhaled sharply at the young man's answer. Her arms crossed over her chest while she watched over the healer’s shoulder. That’s when the sound of pounding on the door caught her attention. She flashed Ulan a look causing him to grab his spear as she led the way to the door. Her hand reached out and pulled it open.

Lunara's head cocked at an angle as she pulled a brush through her dark thick Virangish hair. Repeatedly, as if she weren't brushing, merely, comforting herself with each stroke. Her way of wrestling the emotional flares fighting to burst from her chest and burn everything around her. Deep down, she knew there was more to the story than Selim told, like a dog he protected his master at the cost of the truth. She knew after speaking to Oanona there was a secret behind the lies. But, it was a story Lunara's gut wasn't prepared to check yet. Instead, she brushed her hair.

BANG! BANG! CLANG! THUD! BANG!

From the window Lunara snapped out of her mild trance and looked outside. Below at the gate of the Agha plantation was a man hammering on the gatehouse door. It was the kind of behavior anyone with eyes could see was driven by fear and desperation. Unlike the situation with her father, Lunara placed down her brush, checked herself in the mirror pulling her posture upright, and with purpose, strode downstairs and out into the yard.

Others were slowly growing in numbers around the gate. The frantic rattling and attacking of its steel demanded attention and questions. The echoes of Lunara's heels clicking against the wood of the manor with doors open cut the curious minds of Agha slaves and overseers. The heels pierced deeper as they struck the paved walkway to the gate and gathered strength in each step. The crowd of slaves and overseers turned to Lunara before they opened the way. Caving behind her, filling the gap they made, each watched in anticipation.

Lunara approached the gate to greet the man who slammed into it.

"Peace be upon you traveler, are you okay? What calls you to our estate?"

He was a messenger of sorts. He looked dirty and sweaty and bedraggled. There were scratches, welts, and bug bites all over him, and the feel of some drawn kinetic magic. Evidently, he had some small ability in the Gift. "My... ladies," he panted, bowing briefly, mostly in Lunara's direction. "I apologize for my disruption." He glanced worriedly over his shoulder, pausing as if he were sensing for energies. "I am Tanyag, a messenger from Ceboyan." He swallowed and took a further moment to catch his breath. "Come to warn you that there are rebels at Aziz Mesud and Nöbetçi Tepesi."

His eyes darted about anxiously. "They have a tethered and I know they are tracking me. They want to kill me and, quite possibly, yourselves as well." If he was not quite sure what to make of Mahal, he seemed to have settled on caution with regards to her. If she was a bastard or something like it, she was still likely his social better. He glanced between the two. "Is the master of this property here?" He bowed again, deeply and stiffly. "I request an urgent audience with him."

---

---

Alab was in the hills, trying to interpret the little pinches to his neck. They were annoying. He blinked back in sequence: <What?>

<West. South. West.> came the reply. <Plantation.>

"That one is Agha," Bato added. If the stories that the others told were to be believed, he was the one who had set everything into motion at Aziz Mesud - he and the mysterious Joruban Alab had met in brief. "Not as bad as Mesud, but close."

"He will spill everything he knows to them, and he has been hiding in the area for days," whispered Dani. "He has the Gift."

"I dunno why Dali couldn't just pop his heart from five miles away," Alab grunted.

"My sister is not a killer," Bato replied with quiet but firm resolution.

"It would've been impossible anyway," added another voice, and Alab's skin prickled with both fear and a healthy regard for the masked figure. "Their capacities are too close. She wouldn't have been able to overwhelm him."

Dani, crouched behind some rocks, looked up to regard their Dieci Volti benefactor. "As you say, chief, but someone will have to, or he's going to sing and Agha has resources."

A few sets of eyes, then, turned to Black King, waiting for his counsel.

Lunara blinked rapidly, startled by Tanyag's urgency. Her fingers tightened as the words rebels and tethered left his mouth. Lunara was in disbelief, yet if this man were lying, he did so at the cost of several good meals, a warm bed, and surrounded by those who would not take kindly to a liar. She chose to trust him... for now.

She waved her hand opening the gate, "Our father is... on the estate." Her voice soft yet steady.

Lunara wasn't entirely sure of what to do, she was inexperienced as a leader, but she was the one they were looking to for direction. She subtly wiped her sweaty palms on her dress and recognized this wasn't the time to hang about in thought. These were the moments all those stories as a kid were teaching, these were the moments where each one of them would be defined by their actions, not titles.

Deep breath, exhale, go. Lunara glanced toward a servant, her tone confident in giving direction, though the weight of Tanyag's words churned her stomach, "Buwan, go warn the others."

Her eyes darting over to Ulan next, "fetch our father."

Lunara gently placed her arm on Mahal, "Sister, if this man is true, they may have followed him here by the tethered. If they're here, your precious hounds will know. Please take them and see if we can't sniff them out."

Then addressing the others, "if anyone senses anything out of place, missing, or unordinary, report back. We must be ready for a group willing to murder us, take to your families and protect our home."

Her gaze cycled back to Tanyag, "You'll be safe with us." Lunara stretched out her hand and took Tanyag's. She began to escort him toward the Agha manor.

Locked on the Scent

**

Mahal stood off to the side while Lunara addressed the man. She listened closely to the words that poured from his tongue as her eyes narrowed, judging the truth of it. Her eyes darted to the jungles beyond him and scanned the greenery for signs of life. While nothing stuck out to her, it did nothing to smooth over her paranoia.

Her gaze shifted to Lunara when her sister touched her. She focused on the orders and accepted the task with a nod. A sharp whistle cut through the air followed by the sounds of excited yips and racing paws. In only a few moments, two hounds broke out into the open. Supok, the firehound, whipped her tail back and forth with eagerness to please. The updog glided in from a nearby tree, Puno acting more demure than her adopted sibling. Their heads both turned to her for farther commands.

"Would be easier if I had something with their scent, but I'll make do. Supok, Puno, come." With that command, she moved past Tanyag and into the jungles itself.

Selim made a small request toward Lunara. "With your permission, I'd like to stay here. In case she or anyone else needs healing."

Lunara permitted, "Of course, Selim, as you wish." She signaled to two of the guards to help her with the messenger. The two aided the messenger inside as Mahal and her dogs left and closed the gate.

As Lunara, the guards, and the messenger began walking up toward the estate, she could sense Miray stalking on the grounds. Her Goma cat was keeping a close watch on Lunara with a keen eye on the activity around her.

The three escorted the messenger a quarter of the way before Lunara spotted Ruslan entering from the side of the estate. "Good job, Buwan." She said under her breath. Buwan was successful in warning their father and soon they'd unite in the drawing room of the estate. From there, Ruslan, would know what to do.

Mahal listened to the gate clank close behind her. Puno and Supok paused and sniffed the air, drinking in the scents. Suddenly, the hounds barked. Her eyes jerked into the direction they faced when the shots fired out. She gripped her dagger in her skirt belt as she drew. With a flick of her blade, she repelled a few incoming shots into the dirt.

Meanwhile Selim bowed his head and thanked Lunara. Her watched her leave with the messenger in tow when he heard the hounds. The shots came next. He was not a trained fighter so his reflex was slower compared to the others. He barely realised what happen until he heard the screams. All the guards rushed to arms while others scattered. Spotting Mahal darting toward the source, he tried to call her back. "Ceren, get back in here, now!"

She was already gone.

As Ruslan finished his draw, he snapped out his wand. Electromagnetic energy buzzed in the air creating a small field. When the shots hit, they stopped in midair then dropped to the ground. The impact on the tiles echoed in the halls.

Tethered Communications

***

Back in the jungle, Mahal continued to dart through with kinetic enhanced speed. Her eyes kept her dogs within her sight while she drew in arcane energies. Once the attackers came into the edge of her range, she began to slow and crouch down. Seeing her pace change, her hounds' pulled back. Puno rushed up a nearby tree to be a look out and hide among the thick leaves. Supok, however, kept her nose up and tracked the danger's location. Lingering in the spot, Mahal picked the nearest target and then cast touch of doom. She faintly hoped that might get their attention or at least cause some chaos.

Before she could focus for more than a second or two, however, a large log came crashing through the brush towards her, hurtling end over end. She was quick enough to deflect it slightly and dodge, but her focus on her spell had to fall by the wayside. That had been a sophomoric spell, to be honest: the kind she might've used when she'd first started her magic studies.

Then, she felt a pinch behind her ear, and a series of them. While she wasn't the best with it, she recognized Pinch Code. <We. Want. Spy.> it said. <Give. Spy. No. Hurt.>

Mahal rolled back onto her feet, her eyes seeking the source. Her firehound's fur bristled as she growled. The small pup's form hunched down ready to lounge upon sight of the attacker. Puno held her ground in the tree, ready to pounce. As the girl readied another spell, a pinching sensation hit behind her ear. Mahal flinched at the unwanted touch. It reminded her of rat teeth though softer. Her knuckles tightened on her daggers as she noticed a pattern.

She recalled the messenger's words about the tether and the threat. There was no familiarity here to trust as her eyes flickered toward home. Her haste to find the attackers had led her here, but was it smart? She started to question that now.

Her forefinger on her left hand tapped against the dagger's hand in a pattern. <You. Attack. First. > She paused then finished. <No. Trust.>

<Why. You. Think. Attack. Weak. No. Hit.> replied the pinches. <He. No. You. Friend. He. Safe. We. Die.>

Mahal held her pose, her eyes still sought an individual. However, her feet didn't stay still. They started to retreat and slowly move back to the plantation. She clicked her tongue as her hounds glanced her way, their ears perked. With wariness, they began to follow her.

<I. No. Know. You. Who. Are. You.> She paused, then added. <Words. Lie. Easy.>

<No. Be. Stupid.> came the reply. <Mask. Man. Scary. Will. Kill. All. Master.> There was a momentary pause. <Give. Spy. He. Have. No. Excuse. We. Stop.> A second pause followed, longer this time. <I. At. Neighbour. No. Come. There. I. Come. I. Die.>

Mahal inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself. She knew a tethered knew where she was and surprising she hadn't been killed. Either the mage wasn't strong enough or something else was up. At this point, it didn't matter. She had completed her task as another volley hit the house. It sounded worse than before causing her anxiety to rise.

<Words. No. Enough. No. Risk. It.> With that, her dogs and her rushed back toward the house's direction.

<You. Choice. But. Bad. Choice.> came a brief message. <Go. Back. Man. Break. Mother. Protect. Man. Hurt. You. Many. Be. Slave. All. Life.> There was a brief pause and then, <Idiot.> With that, the pinch messages abruptly cut off.

Goma Hunt

****

"Word's aren't enough aye? Seeing as you are still alive and unharmed up 'till now should have been a sign", an unfamiliar voice that spoke in Avincian cut in on the otherwise silent conversation.

"However right now I will need to be a tad bit more rough". With that the low rumbling roar of multiple Goma Cats punching through the otherwise quiet moment inbetween gunfire.

"Oh, I do hope you don't run too far. They might think you are prey rather than a play mate", the voice finished, it's owner didn't allow themselves to be seen. Black King began to move and prepare to 'gently' bring down Mahal as he sent a pinch message back to to The Handler. Telling them the plan to bring Mahal down without killing. A hostage is better alive. Hurt but alive.



Even if the connection hadn't been cut off, Mahal focused on getting home. Still... not many individuals knew of the abuse and fact the tethered did, bothered her. What else did this person know? Even if she wanted to, she doubted her father and sister would give into the demands. Not after the attack on the plantation.

Mahal didn't get far when someone spoke to her. Her eyes darted around to find the source, but saw only trees and jungle. Drawing quickly, she kept moving through the flora. Now she needed to make it home before they decided to kill her.

With a deep breath, she cast the spell impart momentum to boost her speed as she zig zagged among the trees. "Better hope your cats can keep up."

Mahal’s eyes darted about. Shadows slipped in and out of the trees as the goma cats tailed her. Gathering her breath, Mahal urged her hounds along. "Run faster."

Puno bounced up a trunk and raced through the trees. Supok kept pace and close to her. Suddenly, a cat leapt at her from behind. Mahal pivoted on her foot. Claw snagged her tunic and ripped free. She kicked on a spur of speed, leaving the predator behind. More shapes began to materialize around her. Another shadow tore from the jungle and raced ahead. It lounged at her front. Mahal ducked, but the claws caught her back and held on.

She muffled back a cry and pushed forward. Seeing her struggle, Puno jumped and glided down. Her throat let out a hoarse bark. The cat released with a hiss then vanished into the jungle. Mahal continued to zip and zagged, her desperation growing. More cats charged at her. One latched upon her inner thigh as she let out a scream. Still, she kept pushing herself.

Supok’s eyes flashed red. She snapped at it only to be batted away. The pup stumbled and whined, rolling to a stop a few paces behind.

A clinging cat stretched out its claws for Mahal’s face. With a jerk, it narrowly missed. She didn’t notice the older feline slid up beside her. Supok put on a burst of kinetic energy to intercept the elderly cat. In a ferocious show of skill and experience, the feline bristled then leapt clear of the hound’s jaws. It slammed into Mahal making her tumble. One or two of the smaller cats detached, but stayed close. Excited by the chase, their primal instincts surfaced. Quickly they surrounded her.

"Puno, Supok, home!" Mahal shouted.

Puno rushed away, but the firehound hesitated. Supok whimpered and lingered, an inner conflict on her form. The inchhound paused then gave a sharp, bossy yip. Following her alpha, the two hounds took off. With a thick lump in her throat, Mahal turned to fight for her life. A claw swiped at her as she grounded herself. She drew her daggers and lightning buzzed across the surface.

Two cats circled her, wary of the energy. At first, it seemed her tactic to intimidate them might work. Then the elderly female goma charged. The girl’s blade slashed out, but the cat proved faster. It slipped underneath the attack, fangs latched onto her leg and ripped it out from underneath her. Mahal saw stars in the back of her head. Her free leg kicked up into the beast’s jawline, but it didn’t hit. The goma cat dragged her across the ground.

The Masked Man

*****

A loud high pitch whistle screamed out. It was so loud and high that at one point it became inaudible to all but the most sensitive creatures. Which sent the Goma cats roiling mad for a moment before crying out in terror and scrambling from the pure discomfort and pain from the invisible assailent.

Moments later Black King came from the forest calmly like he was one with it. He looked around for a moment as he shook his head and spoke, "Can't you listen? I told you not to run too far".

His hand seeming to cast her way as he began to use chemical magics upon her to lessen the pain and put her to sleep. As the magic was working, he knelt down next to Mahal and began to look her over. Using his a mixture of chemical, magnetic, and binding magic to slowly heal up some of her wounds while taking away her ability to try and fight back.

No more a few moments later another man appeared, seeming worried and exhausted as he quickly panted out, "Is she alright?"

Black King shook his head for just a moment, "Yes, she will be fine. Injured, yet not terribly so. Rest and some healing is enough".

Kidlat seemed to lose a slight bit of tension in his shoulders as it seemed a weight was lifted off of him for a moment. He may have still been worried, but relief was all he could breath, "Thank goodness, I was hoping not to hurt her much".

Black King nodded his head, "It is good. She may be a fool, yet she doesn't need to die for it".

After the goma cat released her, it dashed into the jungle. Mahal laid there and breathed heavily, trying to will herself to move. Pain shot through her leg with every movement. It wasn't broken, but she couldn't walk on it. She pulled herself against a tree as she considered what to do next. Why didn't they kill her? She didn't understand it. Upon hearing the masked man, she tensed.

"Listening... was never my strength." She shot back through gritted teeth. A numbing sensation crawled up her skin as her body became sluggish. Impulsively, she tried to counter with her own Gift. No luck. Her efforts were overwhelmed, leaving her helpless. She relaxed and watched through heavy lidded eyes while he began to heal her. Why waste the magic? Even if they got they got the messenger, her family likely had whatever knowledge he did. No point in keeping them alive now only to kill them later.

Her mind drifted off as she listened to the men exchange words.

***

Since coming home, Mahal had suffered many sleepless nights and dread stalking the back of her mind. Each step underneath her father's roof felt like walking on eggshells as she stayed out of sight. Lunara took his attention most of the time which helped. The girl lingered in those moments of blissful peace, but all good things came to an end.

Voices penetrated the darkness first causing her haze to peel away. Her eyes rolled underneath her lids as she shifted and tried to sit upright. Realizing the sounds weren't figments of her imagination, her eyes opened and she silently took in the owners. She recalled the tethered's mention of a man in a mask causing her attention to narrow on him. One that would kill all the masters. She prayed that Lunara wasn't stupid enough to search for her.

Black King spoke with those around him, they needed to act. The more time they waited, the more time it would be for a plan to be made. If a plan was made, or someone grew worried of the area, their makeshift movement here would be done. and with word spreading, it would stop the whole revolution.

A prolonged 'siege' was not an option.

It was then Black King at Mahal. His head did not turn, yet the glowing orbs of golden fire that burned like a swirling rainbow locked onto her the very moment she awoke.

He allowed a moment for her to fully awaken before he turned to Mahal, "Well, good morning Marikit₁, are you well?"

The man spoke calmly, he had no malice in his voice. In fact it seemed quite the opposite, as he even seemed playful as he spoke with that almost signature soft Revidian rolling purr as he spoke.

Catching the compliment, Mahal's head tilted and her nose wrinkled a bit. He had to be mocking her. Never in her life had she been called something so nice unless it was by her mother or sister. They often did it out of kindness. She took note of his accent and appearance then picked her words carefully.

“Better than most in my situation.” Her eyes glanced at her leg, fully healed now. She kept her expression steady as she tested the waters with questions. "Why waste your time healing my wounds? I was in no danger of dying. "

Black King chuckled slightly as he answered, "You may have not been, however, if I worry not for another, then that would make me lesser than even some animals".

Black King then gave a small whistle, as a raven flew down, landing upon his finger as he began to feed it and lightly pet its plumage.

"And you are not my enemy. You fighting against us is not out of hate, only out of your own misunderstandings, Ignorance is not malice. Just as a raven born in a cage never knew of the sky. You don't know what you truly want, and the moment you meet it, it's frightening".

"It wouldn't have mattered much. I heal surprisingly well." Mahal said dismissively before the raven arrived. A creature of night and woodlands, rarely seen in her region. Then he mentioned the cage and she snapped.

Mahal’s expression curled into fury. She pushed onto her feet causing the air around her to tense as she drew. Her hands clenched into fists, lightning sparking about the surface. She held her face just inches from his masked face.

"Don't assume you know me. You know nothing!" It hurt more than she wanted to admit. Her eyes widened when she realized her stupidity. Like a fire doused with water, she pulled back. The charge in the air died as did the lightning.

"What happens now? There has to be a reason for this."

Black King watched on, as his people began to grow nervous, he raised his hand lightly, telling them to hold their hand. Even when Mahal leaned as close as possible and used her immense power as a display, he watched. It was not until she finally realized what was happening that she stopped.

Black King nodded as he spoke, "Of course there is a reason. Talk some sense into you, and have you understand why we are doing as we are".

Black King watched on, as his people began to grow nervous, he raised his hand lightly, telling them to hold their hand. Even when Mahal leaned as close as possible and used her immense power as a display, he watched. It was no until she finally realized what was happening that she stopped. Black King nodded as he spoke, "Of course there is a reason. Talk some sense into you, and have you understand why we are doing as we are".

"Sense? You shot at my loved ones! Target or not, you could've hurt them. If they aren't dead already." Mahal growled back and wrapped her arms about herself. The attack upon the house had ceased from the sounds of it, but the end result could've been anything. She closed her eyes to center herself, breathing deeply. It was a poor attempt.

Giving up on it, she focused on the masked man. “Then explain cause I fail to understand it."

Black King nodded to himself as he said, "Well, the shooting is much the same way as you performing that feat of magic a moment ago in your anger. That display is for many of the people here considered god like and quite threatening".

As he lightly gestured to Mahal and then to those around him, some of which were dry heaving and woozy after a display of magic and drawing from a near 8.0 mage. Others were on edge as she seemed quite upset.

"The gun fire was a display, a threat to get your attention and to get what we want. To get a point across. If it was a true attack, why would we damage the roof?" He lightly chuckled about the idea himself, almost like it was a joke.

"We are here for a man who has sensitive information about our movement. If he is able to pass it along, then many will be hurt, and even more so, the movement will be snuffed out, and even more after that, complicit or not".

Black King lightly gestured as he continued talking more about the injured loved ones, "If any are injured other than the messenger, most likely it would be superficial at best with magic. Especially if you believe the injury your leg sustained was of no concern".

He then brought his hand back to himself, "However, it is to be expected. After all, if you fear no harm will come, then the threat is meaningless. It would be as if I was threatening to take away your favorite snack".

Mahal was quiet. Her eyes shifted and noticed the chaos her mood swings had caused. Though her face didn't show it, she regretted her outburst. Pushing past her mistake, she closed her eyes and exhaled. She ran her fingers through her hair as she considered his words.

Lunara held greater experience in politics than her and could tell if this man lied. She, however, could not.

"I suppose. However… " she continued to push down her anxiety, "if Lunara got the message, there's no stopping it. She has never failed when she has a goal in mind. At least from what I've seen."

Black King began to nod his head, "Maybe, however, we still need to ensure the message never reaches the Virangish. If anything, have it take more time to do so. If they receive the message quickly, then many will die. People who just want to be free from these terrible conditions".

He looked around for a moment, "Of course we can perform a long standing siege. Attempt to blockade the farm for long enough until desperation or starvation gets to them, yet that would not work as we are not a grand enough army, nor are we secluded enough to do such a thing without having guards or soldiers asking questions".

He nodded as he looked among those around him, "Or we can attempt another assassination. Destroying any documents he may have made to transport. However, they are much more up in arms and possibly ready for it, so if anything it would either need to be when they are not expecting it, but then the information could have been passed around, or from within".

Black King looked to Mahal, insinuating the idea before he continued.

"Or. we could leave before we are to be surrounded by guards or other soldiers. Then possibly prepare for what is to come. Yet it would be much the same as if the Virangish were to receive the information. Many will die. Like that young lady who was trying to speak with you before".

Mahal considered his words, ripping herself from what she was molded to be. It wasn't easy. Habits didn't cease to exist. She rolled her tongue against her cheek in thought. Truthfully she still questioned her own judgment on this, but she couldn't ignore the facts. She was still alive and if the masked man was honest, so were the ones she considered family.

She shook her head at the mention of siege and assassination. “The plantation has enough supplies for a good month and we are expecting visitors at some point. Ren Baykara. As for assassination, you failed once from the sounds of it. If Selim is near, best not to waste your energy. He's healed me a few times from near death.”

Mahal found her feet starting to move as she paced in a circle. A few individuals shifted quickly from her path, but she paid them no heed.

“You can trade me for the messenger. I'd rather you don't harm him. I can ask her about any other information and means of sending it. There's a chance Lunara used a goma cat. It would be gone before you knew it." Her thumb pushed hard into her arm as she rubbed it. She was going to get punished for this, but Lunara's presence would delay it for a bit. “The messenger is from Ceboyan. I think he was going that direction before he came here. Could you have someone in position to intercept it? If they think it was delivered… it might give you more time.”

She then moved into the last bit on her mind. “You will need to move regardless. I suggest the mountains as it's a cold region and not many will suspect you to hide there. And it would hinder anyone coming after you. I know a few locations as I keep a Snow Wyvern in that area.”

Her eyes turned to the man, seeing if he approved or dismissed her thoughts. They were rash and ill thought out, but a start of more options.

Black King nodded his head, "I believe these are good, trading you for the messenger will give us control of him. Trying to intercept the information may not be easy, yet possible. And even the location to move to would be good. However there is one thing I would like to ask of you".

He looked to Mahal as he continued, "What are you willing to do? Since from the sound of it, you sound as if you are already with us"

He chuckled slightly, as she seemed to already be giving ideas and information freely.

Am I? Mahal realized how easily she opened up in the moment. She regretted it. However, there was no backing down now. Perhaps it might spare her family the worst of the rebellion’s bloodshed.

“Truthfully, I am not sure I am. I am not sure I trust what you told me until I see it.” Mahal again ran her fingers through her hair as she considered the emotions rushing through her.

“Yet, you didn't need to share your information either. You could've just told me to keep quiet and not to attempt anything. It is not like it would end well for me.”

She fidgeted a bit, but managed to force herself still again. “Since you decided to take a risk, I am too. In exchange for the help, I ask you to leave the plantation alone.”

Black King chuckled, "I suppose that is a worthy compromise. For your help with this and possibly future endeavors, I will not take action against your plantation". He extended his hand out to shake on it.

Black King nodded his head as he looked towards plantation, while not able to visually see it, he knew where it is. "I think we shall make a trade of peoples, taking the messenger off the board is the first one. Next, the guest you have coming, this Ren Baykara, I would like you to act as an informant on him".

Mahal stiffened at the suggestion causing her to stare hard at him for a moment. She ignores the churning in her stomach.

"The visit will likely be put off due to this incident so I doubt he will come. If he finds out I am spying on him, I'm sure he won't hesitate to kill me or worse."

Mahal stiffened at the suggestion causing her to stare hard at him for a moment. She ignores the churning in her stomach. "The visit will likely be put off due to this incident so I doubt he will come. If he finds out I am spying on him, I'm sure he won't hesitate to kill me or worse."

Black King lightly nodded his head, "True, however, in it's own right, I do believe your father would not want something like this to besmirch his reputation with such a man. However, either case, if he is to come, knowing his thoughts, plans, and what is going on with the Virangish is important".

Black King turned to Mahal as he continued, "I understand your fears. However, it is needed. Nothing comes without risk. And nothing comes without trying".

A bitter, depressed tsk escaped Mahal's lips. "He wouldn't, but Lunara wouldn't care."

She reflected on the words before she broke the silence. Her form straightened up and strengthened her voice. "I am not good at conversation or lies. If I am discovered, you are to make sure none of my loved ones come to harm because of my actions. I will accept no less."

Monsters like her father and Baykara didn't make an example of one target, but all those connected. The idea of Lunara, Selim and her mother facing the consequences of her decision hurt her heart. "We are wasting time now. Any more details will need to be sorted later."

Black King nodded his head, "You're right, we are wasting time. Let's head down now".

He looked to the others as he nodded to them and began to head down. It would only be a matter of time before things were to happen.

---

₁ Marikit means beautiful, gorgeous, or lovely.

Lunara Agha

Assault upon the Plantation

*

Ruslan, sensing that something was legitimately wrong, began drawing, as did Tanyag.

From the forest erupted a volley of shots, ripping through foliage, shattering roof tiles, and causing the master of Agha Plantation to reveal some of his abilities with magnetic magic.

Crack. Fwip. Snap. Bullets struck and tiles flew. Ruslan released his magnetic power to halt the rest in place and drop the threats to the ground.

Fear released from Lunara's glands. The estate was under attack. She pulled Tanyag forward as two out of the three guards drew to reinforce Ruslan's defense. The third assisted Lunara in getting Tanyag to the door of the estate.

Once inside, guards could be heard shutting entries, reinforcing windows and marching about in transforming the estate into a fortress. Lunara would bring Tanyag to the drawing room which was cornered adjacent to the side of the house being fired upon.

It was here Lunara began her line of questioning, "Why are they after you? Who are they? And, what are they hoping to gain from all this?"

"I'm a scout, sent by her majesty in Ceboyan to determine the strength of the rebels." He paused to scan for further energies or bullets, but they were out of his range in the jungle and reloading. "The Queen and Trading Company don't know much, but I've been here for three days, hiding out in the forest." he paused again to scan as they walked. "It started with the maiming of a boy on Aziz Mesud: draconian punishment. Conditions there were bad." He shook his head as they rounded a bend. "A healer - possibly with the Dieci Volti - arrived and helped him. He was caught, there was an altercation and then they rebelled." He went silent to scan once more. "Details are sparse about the next bit and we don't know if the plantation owners were killed or taken captive but, six days ago, word reached Nöbetçi Tepesi and they rebelled as well, with help from the rebels." He swallowed. "There is a full-fledged masked Volti among them, and they have other salamangkero and a tethered who is observing us this moment. They want to overthrow all the masters, and they are full of killers who joined them after the Bloody breakfast in Arangal."

The colonnade was full of potted palms and its columns twined round with flowering vines. They swayed as a gentle breeze swept across the mansion's courtyard, half in sunlight and half in the shadow of encroaching grey clouds. Then, the second volley began...

With the first volley defended, Ruslan raced down the hall toward the drawing room. His eyes glimpsed into the jungle before he disappeared into the room. Lunara stood next to a haggard looking man just when the peace shattered with another round of shots. Enraged by the attack, Ruslan's fury rushed along his veins. His hardened eyes glared at the shots aimed at him and his family.

"Enough!" The man roared.

His mana surged from his form. Lightning sparked across his clothes and leapt from him to one bullet then another, popping each of them in air. One... two... three. On the fourth one, Ruslan lifted his hand. It slowed then made a dead stop right in front of his face. With a scowl, he snapped his finger. The ball vibrated there for moment as it built up energy. Suddenly it shot backwards and disappeared, returning to its sender with haste.

With a deep breath, Ruslan turned to his daughter. "Do we have any idea why they are attacking? Or who it is?"

Lunara listened to Tanyag, she could understand the fury one would feel watching a young boy beaten beyond measure. She would never approve of such cruelty on her own property if she knew of it. If she put herself in their shoes, would her heart not leap out for justice?

She understood. But, violence only begets more violence.

The second volley of shots rang out. A strong display of magical power was performed by Ruslan in thwarting off the attack. After, Ruslan made his way to the drawing room and Lunara answered his questions, "it seems under harsh conditions a boy was brutally punished at Aziz Mesud, a healer possibly linked to the Dieci Volti intervened and was caught, sparking an uprising. The revolt inspired a second one at Nöbetçi Tepesi."

She paused as the associated mental images of destruction and pain resonated as the same negative force applied pressure on their own estate, "now, they have serious support: a masked Volti, a tethered spy watching us, and other powerful mages, all determined to overthrow the masters." Her gaze drew to Ruslan as if to say, that means you.

"Many among them are killers from the Bloody Breakfast in Arangal. This man, Tanyag, was sent by the Queen and Trading Company to gauge their strength.” Lunara concluded.

She waved over one of their guards who was in the room, "Bring Tanyag's word to the Queen. She will need to send reinforcements before the rebels gain momentum and grow too large in numbers."

Lunara looked back to Tanyag, "How likely is it that the Trading Company or Ceboyan will send reinforcements? And what would the Volti want with the estates? Are they after resources or something more personal with the masters?"

Tanyag shook his head, helpless. "I can only speculate on their motives, and I know no more - and probably less - than you do." Still skittish as the second volley cleared - torn foliage, shattered glass, and ceramic dust all about - he bowed his head. "From what I have heard, the Dieci Volti are ideological..." He hesitated and shook his head. "And vicious." He swallowed. "They might very well want resources as well." He regarded them helplessly, knowing no more. "It is not my place to say so, milord," he continued quietly, "but I would caution you not to send your man yet, or you are likely sending him to his death."

Lunara took Tanyag's advise and stood the guard down, "then it seems if this Volti is out there, they won't be letting up until they get what they want... to end another life..." There was a pain in her last words. It trailed off as more of a whisper and hung in the air as the reality of fates crossed on their very estate.

Her thoughts turned toward Mahal, you better get back here safe sis.

Ruslan frowned at Lunara's mention of the punishment at Mesud plantation and its consequences. "From the sounds of it, they took advantage of a situation and added more leaves to the fire. I doubt they will leave us alone even if we give them what they want."

He continued to monitor for another volley of shots, including any glimpses of someone in the jungle. His mind weighed their options in this grim moment. "Where is your half sister? She could escort him and possibly increase his odds of making it to his destination safely. Or at least ensuring his message gets there quickly."

Lunara choked as Ruslan inquired about Mahal. She was responsible for sending Mahal out to locate the attackers and draw them off the estate. "She is out there looking for them." Her eyes looked out and into the jungle. This nixed the escort strategy.

She got up and moved to a desk with parchments and quill. Walking back over to Tanyag placing it on his lap, "if it's too dangerous to send one and too dangerous to send you, then we multiply the message. At this rate, people are going to die either way and it better not be in vain."

She motioned for Tanyag to write down what he knew on the parchments to warn the others.

The messenger did not waste any time. "They will try to kill me," he warned. "They see anyone who stands in their way as an enemy." He began writing as quickly as he could, which was not very quick, but it was detailed.

Then came the third volley, and it hit nothing but what it intended to unless deflected. Most of the bullets came straight for Tanyag, with a few more aimed halfheartedly at Ruslan to keep him from interfering too much: predictable, just like the other volleys.

Yet, there was something strange about this one. Bullets that had been blocked or deflected suddenly reappeared. Lunara did all that she could as Tanyag wrote furiously and then was forced to defend himself. Ruslan deflected even most of this, so talented in the Gift was he.

Then, one took him right in the gut and folded the master of Agha plantation. He staggered and half-collapsed onto a divan, clutching his punctured stomach. Lunara's eyes widened. Tanyag turned. Then, his chest veritably exploded in a bloody mess, cored straight through the heart. He slid sideways off of the chair he'd been seated at, his blood-splattered note fluttering down to the ground.

Some way away, in the trees of Kalingnan's primeval forest, a man in a mask exhaled. Bullseye.

Secrets Written in Blood

**

Ruslan's jawline tightened as his hand laid over his wounded stomach. With a shudder, he dragged himself over to the nearby wall. He tried to understand what happened and where the bullets came from, but it left him confused. The red hot agony flowed freely along his side. He cursed in his native language at his own weakness. "I got careless."

Selim leaned over Tanyag. His hands focused on drawing then began to stitch the man's heart back together. Not an easy task since the bullet had exploded it into a meaty pulp. The process seemed to take forever. "Lunara, I've managed to get much of the heart reformed. But the flow of blood is weak. I need your help with that."

Once that task had been completed, their healer turned back to the master of the plantation. He began to work quickly and spoke quietly. "Be mindful, they might attack again. Ceren hasn't return yet."

So it was that Selim healed and Lunara healed and Tanyag was - by some act of Oraff, it seemed - saved. Lunara guided him hurriedly to the table, but the paper he'd been writing on was both covered in blood spatter and fallen to the floor. As she asked him if he could write, she reached for it.

In the background, Selim had moved on to her father, who she'd never quite seen laid low like this. In the healer's hands, he began to recover.

That was secondary, however. That was expected. What Lunara saw on that note, however, was not. Scrawled in messy rudimentary handwriting in Tanyag's blood was a short message: Ruslan brok Onaona Selim nows its tru

Lunara’s breath caught as she read the words scrawled in blood on the note, their crude urgency cutting through the chaos that surrounded her. “Ruslan brok Onaona Selim nows its tru.” Her eyes flicked back to Tanyag, who sat dazed and pale, his wounds starting to knit together. Selim’s healing was steady, but the healer’s attention was now on her father, ensuring he regained his strength.

She couldn't decipher every detail, but the implications were clear enough: there was a fracture, a betrayal connected to Ruslan. And Selim, the healer, is aware of it.

Lunara forced herself to keep her expression neutral, though her mind raced. It was not the time to confront anyone right now. They needed to remain strong in opposition to the enemy out there. She'd deal with whatever enemies were in here later. She propped Tanyag up, "can you finish?"

The messenger's hand was pressed to the area of his chest that had been a bloody crater naught but two minutes earlier. As Lunara held his note out, he regarded it with alarm. The message scrawled crudely in blood was not his, and he said as much: "I - I didn't write that." His voice was quiet - a useful skill for one who often needed to work subtly, perhaps - but carried a great deal of alarm. Louder, he replied. "I will need a new paper. I will write the most succinct version that I can." He stumbled to his feet to fetch one, dipped a still-bloody quill in an inkpot, and - eyes wide like dinner plates - began writing.

Lunara pulled the bloodied paper from the messenger, "it doesn't seem you did." She noted the message was written in blood, not ink. Lunara gave him what he asked, a new paper, and he began writing.

Her attention then snapped to her gut. It churned and twisted. The shots were no longer. It was quiet, yet she could feel something was wrong. Her mind searched for previous memories associated with this feeling.

"Mahal." Lunara announced to the others, "She is in danger!"

What would she do? Her sister was out there because of her. If she was killed, it'd be Lunara's responsibility. Was it too late?

A Daughter's Duty

***

There were eighty of them who had been alerted, but first was Alad. Itinerant labourers, landless peasants, and slaves alike, they were armed with farming tools, machetes, and a handful of rifles. They crossed in an armed horde, from the fallen Aziz Mesud plantation, through the village of Kalingnan. There, they harmed nobody, though many were frightened. They crossed the street and made their way toward the Agha plantation. As they cleared the village and filtered into the forest pathways, they began to chant, first piecemeal, and then in numbers as it swelled: "Freedom from the Masters. Justice for Palapar. Long Live the Queen. Death to Virang!"

Selim shifted when he heard Lunara's words. Still he continued to heal Ruslan, but he observed the man's expression. A flash of bewilderment flickered across the man's eyes before it hardened. "Who's Mahal?"

The healer took a moment to enlighten him. "The name Onaona chose for Ceren before you made her change it."

Ruslan's attention moved to him as the healer ignored the tension rising in the air. Once finished, he stood upright and moved away. Before a word was uttered, a series of barks rang out from the edge of their land. Supok and Puno bolted for the gates. Mahal was nowhere in sight...

This was followed by the distant chanting of a mob drawing closer.

The chanting grew in loudness and intensity, a few of the original riflemen joining and swelling its ranks while a handful of others stood guard around Mahal. As they approached the fence and the outer fields, they began to call out to their brothers and sisters on the plantation.

"We are not here for you, but for those who call themselves your masters!"

"Do not fear! Raise no hand against us and we shall raise none back!"

"Freedom for the people of Palapar!"

"We come to liberate! Lay down your arms and you shall not be harmed!"

"This land is yours, not Ruslan Agha's! Join us and take it back!"

And then, as Lunara wrestled with what to do next, Tanyag looked up from his frantic scribbling. "It is done," he announced, breathless. "It is done and it is here!" He rose, folding the paper and holding it out to her.

Lunara took the folded paper carefully from Tanyag. Opening the message, she scanned through the contents. The mob's chants outside grew louder, more insistent. Eighty souls calling out their wants and demands. Standing at the edge of the Agha plantation, crying for freedom, justice, and death.

Once she finished reading. Lunara finally called Miray using a unique kinetic sequence that attracted her Goma cat. Miray silently revealed herself in the drawing room before finding herself beside Lunara. Lunara knelt down meeting the Goma cat's piercing eyes, "Take this to Ceboyan." She folded the paper in a cylinder container attached to the collar.

Lunara then turned to the door. Straightening, Lunara steeled herself. She had one chance to face this crowd with words before chaos took hold, "The rest of you should prepare to escape. I will do my best to address them and buy everyone time, but in the end, I fear they will not return. But if I can buy us time, I will."

Selim looked ready to protest, but Ruslan was the first to speak. His voice took on a hint of disgust at the mere suggestion of fleeing. "You cannot be serious, Lunara. They are weak despite their protest. We can easily crush them in a fight. This is our home."

Lunara's eyebrows drew together as her gaze turned to Ruslan, "Weakness?" She questioned, "What will be remembered of the Agha estate?" She pressed, "if we turn this into a bloodbath, would we not give more reasons for them to fight?"

Her worry turned to sadness, her eyes dropping, shoulders sloping, "And what then, do we kill them all? What if there are more, and we are overwhelmed? What if help does not come? Do we die for pride?" Her fists clinched tightly. "And what of Mahal's fate then?"

A single tear dropped from her soft cheeks, twinkling to the floor before crashing on the floor below. "We must leave, regroup, find Mahal, and then take back what is ours."

"And what of her?" Ruslan struggled to keep his temper in check, "You sent her out there. Once you did that, there was a chance she would die or need to be sacrificed. Let this be a lesson that if a weakness is shown, it will be struck without mercy. I've taught you that."

The man stepped closer to his daughter, towering over her. "If we run, do you think they will stop here? No. They will march across every plantation and continue their slaughter. They already proved they were willing to kill," his hand moved his robe showing the bloody spot where his stomach wound was. "Some times, force is the only way."

Instinctively, Selim stepped around Ruslan and gently touched Lunara's shoulder. His eyes softened at her before he glanced outward toward the hostilities. A pain seemed to spread across his expression as he considered his words. "I don't agree with your father on a few points, but I don't think sacrificing yourself is the way. If you go out there, I'm coming with you."

Lunara held her ground, “I accept that.” Another tear slipped its way to the ground. Her hand instinctually rose to wipe it away, and with a twitch of determination, her gaze came to meet his, steady as her father loomed inches away. “And I accept my responsibility to bring her back. Alive.”

A breath passed between them before she continued, "I don’t know if they’ll stop here. Likely not. But if they press on without meeting resistance now, won’t they seal their fate and give us every reason to return with stronger justification?”

"You also taught me to choose battles wisely, Father. To strike when the advantage is ours. If we can warn others before they’re surprised and then return ready for a fair fight, won’t we protect more than just our pride and our land?"

The sounds of Goma cats began to rise, as did the mobs. The Agha's gomas were not taking lightly trespassers about to enter their kingdom. One of the guards had Mahal's hounds inside before the mob gained more ground.

Ruslan reddened in the face... then his shoulders slacked. His dark eyes lingered on Lunara's strength and ideals contrasting with his own. His pride gnawed at him before he swallowed it. "We don't know if she's alive, but I see I can't change your mind. I'll be keeping an eye on you. If anything happens... I will not show mercy."

He turned to walk away then paused, adding. "Don't let your attachments make you weak. Your sister isn't the heir to the plantation, you are. And if your enemies know she is your weakness... they will use that to take everything, including your life, from you."

Selim looked from Ruslan's departure to her, worry clear on his face. "I still insist on coming with you."

"If anything happens, I wouldn't expect you to." Lunara acknowledged her father's warning.

Looking to Selim, who too pushed his way into the situation only to be met by Lunara, "You can't. Onaona needs you, and the rest of the family needs you; without you, they won't survive. If the mages go after them, you'll thank me you were there to protect the ones we care about against them."

Selim wanted to argue, but he didn't. She was right, "Ok Lunara, once we're clear of the plantation we'll meet you in Ceboyan." Lunara nodded with respect, and her eyes softly embraced his, "Thank you, Selim, for your enduring loyalty to this family."

A Heartfelt Speech

****

She turned to face the door. Supok and Puno were at the door, standing at attention. The gomas continued to hiss, and the mob sustained their chants.

As Lunara stepped out into the yard. She could feel her heart rate begin to rise. The sweat built in her palms. Supok and Puno followed. As she made it halfway, the servants of Agha began to gather.

"Each of you, time and time again, have shown my family your loyalty. Each of you worked these lands and made your place here. Today, you deserve to be heard - you deserve a choice. No debt of loyalty binds you here if your heart calls for change. You may go now, through these gates, to stand with those who chant for freedom. Or, if you seek another path, you may leave toward Ceboyan and find your future there. The choice is yours today; I hold you to nothing but your own will."

She let her words settle, the silence heavy as her gaze shifted to the shouting crowd of rebels beyond the gate. She stepped closer, her chin lifted in quiet defiance.

“People of Palapar!” she called, her voice cutting through their chants. “You demand justice and freedom from those who have ruled too long and taken too much. I hear your cries, and today I stand not as a daughter of Virang, but as one woman facing many. If justice is truly what you seek, let me stand before you and speak. You have claimed to fight for honor—give me the same, or show yourselves as those you claim to rise against.”

The workers of Agha regarded each other, most holding whatever improvised weapons they could out of fear, necessity, or simply because it seemed the thing to do. They shifted uncomfortably. They murmured. Some talked. Some hid behind others. Some gripped their weapons more tightly.

Across from them was a swarm of people: their countrymen and women, armed - for the most part - similarly. Yet, where the serfs of Agha plantation seemed mostly to lack conviction, to be uncertain of their next move, there was no such issue with their counterparts.

Then, Lunara addressed them. At first, they chanted over her. Some hissed or shouted her down. A man in a black mask stood in the background, arms crossed and emanating the power of the Gift.

"Don't lecture us, rich bitch!" shouted one.

"Ayyy, we won't hurt yuh's," another promised, "long as yuh stay out of our way!"

Most, however, heard her words. Some even listened. They listened as some of the peasants of Agha plantation opened their arms in embrace: to seldom-seen relatives and friends, to others who had struggled as they had, to people who now sung songs of their home - songs that they had never shared with the Virangish. They listened as some lowered their makeshift weapons and walked over and as more remained. Whatever the case, they did not harm Lunara, however.

Meanwhile, some ways away, in the forest, a goma cat ran. A secret that screamed to be let out could no longer be contained, and Kalingnan was not, ultimately, remote or defensible enough for such a nascent movement. Being tied to this place could very well mean its end before it truly had the chance to germinate. As Mahal lay on a bed of grasses beneath the tangled trees, the masked Volto spoke with his closest confidantes. He spoke of these things as he waited for her to stir.

Lunara held her ground as the cacophony of hisses, jeers, and defiant promises rumbled against her like a crashing wave. She took a breath, then stepped forward again, projecting her voice through her sonic Gift so that it pierced the crowd’s furious hum.

“Here we are, standing as equals." She called, gesturing to the servants behind her. "Many of them, like you, have toiled in the shadows, hands raw, back bent. Some have chosen to leave to join you. Others remain. And as for me?" She paused, letting the silence spread, her fierce gaze concealing the reality of her twisting stomach. "I am not here to stop you but to face you."

She opened her arms "without violence." Her arms lowered, and she gestured to the workers of Agha around her, "We all want change, but at what cost? If blood is shed now, we may set a path that never finds peace. We may find only more violence, more families torn apart, more freedom snatched from the last breaths of those who will needlessly die in this conflict."

Her eyes met the masked man in the crowd, sensing his silent power, "do all of you believe violence will be the answer to your cause? Is it the blood you want, or is it a future? If it's a future, then we stand on common ground. If it's blood...then we only set fire to our hopes to build something more than what is today."

Lunara's stomach eased and aligned with conviction in her message, "I came out here to speak because I believe we stand on common ground. I want to help peacefully birth freedom in Palapar and create a political force, a foundation by which all of you secure your freedom by law and not by force. I want to bring you to the table."

Speeches. Words and not action. Most of them had heard speeches before: promising this change or that improvement or some better deal. Little ever came of speeches. Maybe the people who spoke them did not mean them; maybe they meant what they said but did not have the power to follow through on their promises. Maybe they were silenced by others. As speeches went, this wasn't a bad one.

It was a smaller man who spoke for the others and they parted and quieted somewhat for him to do so. His voice was a bass rumble. "The problem here is that the mantle of the violent party is always hung around the neck of the aggrieved," he said, and it was clear that this man was no mere farmhand. He was educated. "The oppressor controls all of the tools of state. He first controls the executive and uses that to legalize his ownership of the purse strings of the economy and to appoint the judiciary." The man shook his head. "He uses his control over the former to enrich himself, that he might live better than his fellow man and have the resources at hand to make his voice heard over theirs. He uses his control over the latter to delegitimize any challenges to his authority and, if they arise, he is now justified in sending in the military to enforce a monopoly on violence in support of his position and against that of the people he oppresses. Perhaps he might make some conciliatory speech if he senses that the threat could fester, but he doesn't need to follow through because he has such advantage that he can suppress the people's anger through the mere spreading of his word and the illusion of positive outcome that creates."

The man shook his head. "You see, the problem is that you've never had those empty words directed at you. You've never lived 'violence' from our side of things." He snorted. "Why, our entire lives have been violence. Every day is some new violence. Oh," he admitted, "it isn't as flashy as the killing of some merchants poaching our land's resources. It isn't as brazen as the firing of bullets into your plantation, but it kills far more. It works them until their bodies break at half the age yours do." He crossed his arms. "It cuts off their hands if they steal, which they risk rather than starving. It breaks down their doors in the middle of the night and hauls them away for threatening the monopoly in some arbitrary or innocuous way, just in case. It takes their lands and homes and businesses under pretext of legality and leaves them to either sell themselves to Virangish masters or live rough until they die."

A few of the others around him nodded and voiced their agreement. "And if they choose the former and subsequently try to flee, it cuts off half of their feet so that they may not. If they choose the latter, they are criminals and dogs to be hunted, or else at the mercy of the elements. So, you see," he concluded, "the violence, Virangishwoman, did not originate with us. It came first from you. We are merely responding and now, you say, we should not do that. We should trust you that it will be different this time if we but lay down our arms and hand you back your monopoly on violence. You will stand with us. You will advocate for us. You will change things with your 'foundation'." He arched an eyebrow. "Rousing sentiments, to be sure, but forgive me if I am a skeptic. Perhaps you even mean your words, but you are not queen, and we Palaparese have bled plenty already. If the spilling of more blood is what is needed to free this land, then you will find many who will not flinch from it."

Perhaps the others, less educated, did not understand all of his eloquent speech, but this man was one of them, and they knew enough. Most cheered for him and many regarded Lunara with equal skepticism.

Speeches. Words and not action. Most of them had heard speeches before: promising this change or that improvement or some better deal. Little ever came of speeches. Maybe the people who spoke them did not mean them; maybe they meant what they said but did not have the power to follow through on their promises. Maybe they were silenced by others. As speeches went, this wasn't a bad one.

It was a smaller man who spoke for the others and they parted and quieted somewhat for him to do so. His voice was a bass rumble. "The problem here is that the mantle of the violent party is always hung around the neck of the aggrieved," he said, and it was clear that this man was no mere farmhand. He was educated. "The oppressor controls all of the tools of state. He first controls the executive and uses that to legalize his ownership of the purse strings of the economy and to appoint the judiciary." The man shook his head. "He uses his control over the former to enrich himself, that he might live better than his fellow man and have the resources at hand to make his voice heard over theirs. He uses his control over the latter to delegitimize any challenges to his authority and, if they arise, he is now justified in sending in the military to enforce a monopoly on violence in support of his position and against that of the people he oppresses. Perhaps he might make some conciliatory speech if he senses that the threat could fester, but he doesn't need to follow through because he has such advantage that he can suppress the people's anger through the mere spreading of his word and the illusion of positive outcome that creates."

The man shook his head. "You see, the problem is that you've never had those empty words directed at you. You've never lived 'violence' from our side of things." He snorted. "Why, our entire lives have been violence. Every day is some new violence. Oh," he admitted, "it isn't as flashy as the killing of some merchants poaching our land's resources. It isn't as brazen as the firing of bullets into your plantation, but it kills far more. It works them until their bodies break at half the age yours do." He crossed his arms. "It cuts off their hands if they steal, which they risk rather than starving. It breaks down their doors in the middle of the night and hauls them away for threatening the monopoly in some arbitrary or innocuous way, just in case. It takes their lands and homes and businesses under pretext of legality and leaves them to either sell themselves to Virangish masters or live rough until they die."

A few of the others around him nodded and voiced their agreement. "And if they choose the former and subsequently try to flee, it cuts off half of their feet so that they may not. If they choose the latter, they are criminals and dogs to be hunted, or else at the mercy of the elements. So, you see," he concluded, "the violence, Virangishwoman, did not originate with us. It came first from you. We are merely responding and now, you say, we should not do that. We should trust you that it will be different this time if we but lay down our arms and hand you back your monopoly on violence. You will stand with us. You will advocate for us. You will change things with your 'foundation'." He arched an eyebrow. "Rousing sentiments, to be sure, but forgive me if I am a skeptic. Perhaps you even mean your words, but you are not queen, and we Palaparese have bled plenty already. If the spilling of more blood is what is needed to free this land, then you will find many who will not flinch from it."

Perhaps the others, less educated, did not understand all of his eloquent speech, but this man was one of them, and they knew enough. Most cheered for him and many regarded Lunara with equal skepticism.

Lunara observed a small man emerge from the crowd. She listened intently, composed and somber, as the man laid bare the suffering of those around her. His words, powerful and direct, her convictions challenged, making it clear that speeches alone would not sway them. When he finished, she nodded.

"I hear you," she said softly, then raising her voice so it might carry through the crowd.

"And I won't stand here pretending I know the full depth of what you've lived, the violence that's been inflicted on you every day. I recognize I've been shielded since birth from it. But that's why I'm here-not to lecture, not to pacify, but to understand the truth of what's brought us to this moment."

She took a steadying breath. It may have been her naivety or her idealism or fear of what might happen if they decided to break the gate, but nonetheless, she continued, "You're right. It's easy to make promises, to offer speeches and solutions from a distance. And the things you describe executive, the judiciary, the economic control- admit I do not understand them, yet they sound to punish dissent if they act as you say they do, to keep power out of the hands of the people. So, I don't fault you for doubting my words or my intentions."

She gestured to the workers of Agha around her, some of whom had lowered their weapons, others still uncertain. "But look around at these faces, at those who have chosen to stand with me today, even if they're unsure of what's right, and as I admit, I do not know the best course, but I know we're caught between forces that are too powerful for any one of us to control alone."

Lunara took a deep inhale, collecting herself and letting the message hang. "And I see that for you, bloodshed feels like the only answer. But if we choose that path, if we cut each other down today, what power do we build with tomorrow?"

Her attention turned to the crowd, "I'm not asking you to trust me yet. Trust is earned in action as you rightfully point out, not in words. I'm not asking you to hand back anything either-I'm only asking that we build a new power together. A foundation that isn't made in my name or for my benefit, but to raise your voices from the streets to the world, protecting them in a way that no single leader or ruling class can erase."

Her gaze returning back to the smaller man, "I may not be queen, but I am willing to leverage every connection, every ounce of influence I have to make this more than empty words. I offer to you a beginning together to shape Palapar. I offer a way to lead that doesn't force us to lose more lives than we already have. We must think of those who come after, those who will carry the burden of our choices today."

She paused, letting the sincerity of her words settle. "I want to work with you, side by side, to return what has been taken from you." Her voice softened, "If that is not enough for some if blood is the only path forward, then I won't stop you. But know this: I stood here today not to pacify you, but to build with you. Consider the power we could create- more than a resistance-but laws, economy, and a future we can share."

The man who had spoken so eloquently tilted his head. "You speak convincingly," he admitted, "and I can believe that you mean your words." He shook his head. "But the powers that you are up against won't care for your rhetoric or your moral appeals." The mob had quieted somewhat and were paying close attention to the exchange. "They are greedy and cruel, and that includes your beloved father."

They stood across from each other, though the divide was not so great. "It is simple, Lady Agha," the small man decided, "You wish to accomplish our goals with a velvet glove, but we have tried that before and been dismissed and disappeared." He crossed his arms. "That velvet glove will accomplish nothing unless it sheathes an iron fist within."

Lunara nodded slowly, her gaze meeting the man’s tone serious and steady.

"I understand," she replied. "You're right. The powers we're up against, the greed, the cruelty... they won't bow to moral arguments or quiet negotiation. And as for my father, I won't deny his acts to protect his power and wealth, even at the cost of others suffering." Her mind snapped to the note, even at the cost of family's suffering.

Her head lowered slightly as she inhaled deeply, choosing her next words carefully. Raising her chin before speaking, "I am not against slipping the velvet glove over the iron fist. I recognize if we want change, real change, we'll need a force strong enough to move the powers above if we intend they take us seriously." She paused and scanned the entire crowd, "Your acts are justified, but your execution reveals that iron fist too early. It gives easily too many reasons for those powers to break it immediately. I stand before you to conceal it for the right moments, to cause a greater reaction where the powers that be are first forced to question their own reason before yours."

Her face hardened slightly as she continued, "Together, an iron fist and a velvet glove that fits. Let's build and break. Let's use our words and our strengths. Let's tear down what is wrong and raise what is right."

She gestured to her workers, both her own and those who had joined the mob. "These people deserve a future where they can work with dignity, instead of under the whip of fear. I offer my resolve, alliance, and commitment to give your demands weight. Do we have an understanding?"

By this time those who would've left the Agha Manor had done so. The message was rushing off between the messenger and Miray. Lunara and possibly her father, with some loyal guards, were likely all that was left on the property.

...Fin?

*****

So it was that the exchange was a peaceful one. Twenty-two of the Agha's indentured crossed the lines. The rebels who had stood at their gates did not put down their weapons and did not agree to stop, but they departed soon after, tempered, perhaps, by Lunara's words.

It was a triumph.

Agha stood strong in the face of a rebellion. Ruslan yet drew breath. Tanyag had been saved from death and his message was, this moment, on its way to Ceboyan. The plantation's walls, though damaged, had not been breached.

To Mahal, however, was left the final piece of the puzzle. It fell to her to engineer a convincing escape or release from the clutches of the revolutionaries. It fell to her to withstand her father's wrath, assuage her sister's worries, and mine Ren Baykara for information, all without arousing suspicion.

The rebels faded into the jungle, their destination unknown... for now.

Strained Kinship

*

Location: Agha Plantation, Coffee Fields
Date: a few days after Kalingnan

---

When Mahal’s fingers found the knot in her hair, she paused. She lowered her fingers into the water and then came back to the knot. Carefully, she began to work at untangling it as she brushed it straight. She gritted her teeth with each tug on her scalp while the hair came undone. Her mind reflected on that day and the ones to follow. When the tethered informed the masked man of the messenger’s absence, the plan had changed from hostage exchange to escape. Using chemical and kinetic schools, Mahal inflicted self-wounds to avoid suspicion. Far from life threatening, they still followed a pattern upon closer inspection. She hoped Lunara hadn’t noticed during her haste to heal.

Some time afterwards, Mahal had snuck into her father’s study for a map and marked it. She left it in a tree outside, instructing the tethered of its location, before returning to bed. It was gone by morning. In a few days, she’ll know if they had picked her location as she needed to check on Sikuaq.

A pain rippled across her scalp when she ripped a tangled knot free. Her fingers held it before her causing her to frown and apply binding to numb the area. Once she finished with her hair, the girl got dressed and exited her room. She stepped slowly and lightly, aware of her surroundings. If she could make it beyond the property…

Her heart stopped when she felt a familiar pressure of mana being drawn.

“It’s wonderful to see you, Ceren… or should I call you, Mahal?” The venom in his voice chilled her blood.

“Who?” Mahal turned to face her father, spotting the fury glowing in his glare. Her breath caught in her throat and heart threatened to escape her ribcage. Selim wasn’t here to distract or heal her. Her fingers curled into fists as she braced for the approaching storm.

“Don’t act foolish with me. Lunara revealed it when she worried over you of all things.” His lip curled at the thought, his form towering over the girl.

Mahal’s eyes stayed on him, her spine straightening against the pressure. Seeing it having no effect, Ruslan ceased and continued. “Lunara should’ve known it was a waste sending you out there. You couldn’t even accomplish your task before you were caught.”

“You think I wanted that to happen? It just… happened.” Mahal snapped back, her temper rising. Impulsively, her hand lingered near one of her daggers.

What had she done?

The Agha plantation had transformed, and Lunara, along with it. She lay on her bed, counting the ceiling marks- was it worth it? Tears slid down her soft cheeks. Her mind retracing the last 72 hours. Her instincts to save her family clawed her out of a pack of wolves and into a den of vipers. She knew her people too well. Some would see giving freedom to those who deserved it worthwhile; others would target her as threatening their position. Lunara felt utterly lost in the transition; she felt alone.

Lunara pushed herself up from the bed, the familiar weight of her body feeling foreign against the mattress—it was softer than she remembered, and the walls seemed to close in more tightly around her. The air in her room was thick, suffocating, as if the space had shrunk under the weight of recent days. She crossed the room, her hand brushing lightly over the doorframe before gripping the knob. With a slow turn, she opened the door, stepping into the quiet, cavernous halls of the manor.

Her feet moved on instinct, carrying her down the grand staircase, but each step felt heavier; the weight of the past clung to her ankles like chains shackled to stones. The home assumed a hollowness that Lunara couldn't shake. The walls bore scars—holes from gunfire—each one a gaping wound in her mind. They stared back at her, unblinking, like the eyes of a thousand demons.

As she neared the drawing room, the world around her blurred, and the visceral clarity of that day returned in sharp, unforgiving detail. She could see the messenger collapsing, his lifeblood pooling faster than they could stop it. Her father, once so imperious, his voice commanding, now silent as crimson bloomed across his chest and splattered the walls.

Her breathing quickened. The silence of the manor was deceptive; in her mind, it was deafening, filled with echoes of gunfire, the sharp crack of bullets splitting wood, the desperate cries of those caught in the chaos. The weight in her chest tightened as she moved toward the open front door.

She stopped at the threshold, her fingers brushing the frame as if grounding herself in the present. The dawn stretched before her, soft and indifferent, offering none of the solace she had hoped for. She drew in a deep breath, her lungs expanding painfully. As the air filled her, she realized the truth that had haunted her since she woke: this place, this home, once vast and secure, now felt impossibly small, its walls unable to contain the enormity of what had happened within them—or the weight of her promise.

Then she heard the bout of voices lashing back and forth. A father and a daughter counting the days the other would die. Rather, Lunara couldn't hear it, she could sense it. Her sister's mana bubbling in moments of fear and anxiety. She could feel it so intensely that it capsized everything else. Following her senses, Lunara captured Ruslan and Mahal outside. Mahal is in a defensive posture while her father aggressively presses forward.

"Stop!" Lunara commanded. Both of their heads twisted to their surprise as Lunara's voice caused a pressure that, if tested, might have snapped the neck of a wild beast. A resonance Lunara didn't recognize.

A pain swelled in her heart, to see her family standing at what appeared to be odds after nearly being stripped of their lives days earlier. The family she made promises to save by sacrificing herself to fight a political battle against Virang's elites. Her teeth were as sharp as were her words.

“Have you both lost your senses?” she snapped, her voice slicing through their quarrel.“After everything—after nearly dying to keep this family and estate from crumbling—you stand here, about to tear each other apart as if the enemy isn’t already at our gates?” She glared between them, her words biting. “What in Oraff’s name could possibly be worth this now?”

Upon hearing Lunara's shout, Mahal watched her father's next reply die on his lips. Her hand retracted from her blade as she straightened upright. However, her sister's words continued to lash at her pride. From the coffee plants nearby, her hounds trotted into view and stood by her legs. Despite her sister's worries, Mahal knew the threat had passed thanks to her. For now.

"I was merely noting how she preferred a different than the one she was gifted at birth. Then the conversation turned to what she learned, or rather didn't, after her escape." Ruslan turned to face his favored daughter and twisted the truth slightly.

Mahal's lips pressed tightly together, but said nothing. Her father knew how to twist a narrative to his advantage. She clicked her tongue against her teeth and then pivoted on her heel. Her canines swiftly followed her attempt to escape the conversation.

Lunara's eyes dropped down, "Twice." her tone between silk and steel.

"Twice, you've chosen to lie." Her eyes raised with an icy gaze. "And these are the only one's I can account for." Her teeth clenched, fist balled, "How many more have you told?" The rhetorical sentiment in her question was evident.

"At the most crucial time of our healing, after saving your life, you've chosen again to lie." She paused and approached only steps away from her father,.

"Do you think I can't see you, Ruslan? The lies, the façade - you wear them like armor. Since I've been home, I chose to look away. I believed there was a truth between the gaps in your lies. I believed you would begin to change after what happened three days ago, yet here you stand, lying again. Your armor is cracked now. Your blood on the walls of our manor proves it. You're not the one who saved our home. I am. You didn't make the hard choices or sacrifices to keep this place from becoming a slaughterhouse. That was me. All you did was throw a few spells with a wish to inflame the circumstances. You even criticized my decisions when you weren't willing to make any of your own. I carried this home in the face of war. And I won't let you stand here and lie to me any longer. You're either with me, or you're against me. Do you understand?"

Lunara wasn't tall, but her presence grew tenfold as she lectured her father about who was commanding the Agha estate from now on. Between the ominous letter, Ruslan's behavior, and his aggression toward her and her sister, Lunara was no longer willing to remain silent or push his antics aside. She would be taking the reins for the consequences of failing to deliver her promise, which meant the people of Palapar would return to her family's home and burn it with good reason.

As Lunara finished her lecture, her head snapped in Mahal's direction as she attempted to evade the family meeting, "Where do you think you're going?"

Ruslan's nostrils flared when her accusations turned on him. He stood in place while his daughter threw her fit and lashed at him. Once her childish tantrum died, he let the brief silence cool the tensions. His eyes flicked to the side of his gaze before they returned to her. "I've only done what is necessary to protect you, this family and our legacy. It is something you will eventually learn."

He didn't deny or admit anything. Instead, he moved to the next important part. "I did offer a different solution, but you had already sent out Ceren. We could've held down this place for a month until help arrived. However, you had another plan and despite the criticism, I didn't interfere, did I?"

"Away from here. Nothing I say matters anyways." Mahal stated, not bothering to stop.

Lunara barked at her sister, "Not true!"

Then she turned her sights back to Ruslan.

"I'm going to make this clear. I know what you are. You've done what's in your best interest for your legacy." Her eyes were burning, her voice cold.

"The real lesson you taught me. Not duty. Not honor. Just self-preservation wrapped in lies." She turned sharply, disgust lacing her words.

"You didn't offer a solution-you laid a trap. Your grand plan? To dig in while Palapar's fury pounded at our gates. Hope we'd outlast it, hope I'd fail so you could play savior." Her voice dropped into a venomous snarl. "But it wasn't your strength that kept this place standing. It was my will. My fight. And that wound bleeding out your arrogance."

Lunara turned her back to Ruslan, to Mahal, and began to approach her.

Ruslan’s lips pressed tightly together, the storm brewing beneath his mask. His fingers tightened into fists before he forced them to relax. He’d not stand here and be insulted. With a deep breath, he twisted about and began to depart for the main house. His words lashed back in his wake. “It was better than throwing our lives away. One day, you will learn that things are far more complicated than you realize. Until then, I will do what I‌ must to ensure this house survives.”

Mahal continued to increase the distance from her family. Her bare feet dug into the ground and crushed the leaves under foot. The last thing she wanted was to fight with her father and his outdated values. She retorted back toward Lunara. “Not worth it.”

Lunara stepped beside her sister, "You're right, he isn't." She kept up with Mahal's pace. "You know, we never got a chance to talk about what happened three days ago," her voice gently pressed.

Her hand falling to grab her sister's, "May I ask you a question?" Given the opportunity, Lunara would ask, "what happened out there?"

Hearing her sister’s steps come in from behind her, Mahal slowed her pace slightly. Her anger began to shimmer down now that their father had disappeared. Then Lunara’s question came. She tensed at the words and her eyes flickered in her sister’s direction. She had two choices: tell the truth or lie. Each one held their own consequence.

A moment of silence passed when she replied. “I was ambushed when I got close to the attackers. Attempted to kill one, but I forgot about the tethered. Tried to run back. Most of it is still pretty hazy, but I recall a man wearing a mask.”

Mahal shrugged at the information she shared. It was part of the truth, but many of the details were left out. She moved on quickly to a different topic. “How did you stop the mob from storming the gates? Or keep Father from slaughtering them?”

Lunara replied, “my voice,” cracking a smile. “Apparently I said the right things that disarmed the mob and had them change their tone, including our father.”

Lunara slid her hand down to Mahal’s and clasped, “I’m sorry I put you in danger, I’m happy you are okay.” Her eyes were wide and sincere.

“About what happened, are you able to walk me through from the time you left the estate to when it gets hazy?”

Lunara was searching for a story, not a summary.

Mahal slowed when she felt Lunara's hand take hers. Her fingers wrapped about her sister's fingers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Of course, I forgot who I was talking to."

She meant no insult from her words. It was simply how things were. Ever since they were children, her half sister's very presence demanded attention. Most days it felt as if she was blessed by their ancestors and left none for her. A serpent of jealousy reared its fangs and bit her, spreading its venom into her veins.

Pushing it to the side, Mahal brushed off the apology. "Not sure why you're sorry. We each have our own roles to play. Yours is to eventually run the family. Mine is doing the dangerous stuff and staying out of the way. Not much has changed since we were kids."

Hearing the request again, she frowned. "How much more detail do you need? I don't know what they hit me with, and I barely recall going down. I've already had this discussion with Father and he made it clear about his thoughts."

"I am sorry because I should have been more thoughtful in how we could have had you run the dangerous stuff." Lunara squeezed back. She didn't apologize for their roles but for her carelessness in acting before thinking.

Lunara had put her sister in a disadvantageous position in the jungle against their attackers, and it wasn't necessary. She recognized that her responsibility was to protect her family and the estate but not at the expense of exposing them to unnecessary risk. Instead, patience and decisiveness were the more appropriate path and imminent lessons learned.

She could hear the defensiveness in Mahal's voice as Mahal brought up their father.

Stepping back to give Mahal her space, Lunara could sense the defensiveness in Mahal's voice. The word father never left Mahal's mouth with ease. As to not test her sister's patience and tolerance, Lunara nodded, "I understand. You've shared all you could, thank you."

Mahal's gaze shifted toward Lunara, noting her sister pull away. Her temper had always been a wall to others. Anger toward her helplessness and weakness, no matter what she did it never mattered. She often wondered what it might be like to be on the other side of being a constant failure where her sister stood. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you more. "

A moment of silence passed between the siblings before Mahal added. "I will always fight to protect you and my family. No matter what. Now you should get back to the house before Dalma starts to worry over your absence. If I recall anything, I will seek you out first."
Lunara's arms dropped, more? Her eyes tilted to the ground, a tear perhaps, or sweat from the humid climate dropped from her cheek.

"You gave your life." Her voice firm and on the edge of breaking. "What more could I ask of you?" Lunara's head rolled up, her eyes narrowing on Mahal. She let the question hang in there for a moment as she walked by her sister.

Right as she was shoulder to shoulder Lunara spoke, "I trust you will." She kept along the path and headed back to the estate.

The Hourglass Order

Roslyn Wicke

"I’m not even sure where we are or how we got here.”

It Came from the Bog

_{Location: Viiqii - Qarii’Muuna, Mycormi to ???}

Left Behind

*********

A familiar itch crawled across her arm as she recognized the source. A portal. Those allies, able to run, rushed for it and left the rest behind.

“Do you trust every single member of your group unconditionally? Do you even know who most of them are?” A voice from the past came back to haunt her.

I thought I did... She realized she knew nothing at all.

Then came Esmii's apologetic shout, adding more salt to the wounds. One of her best friends had simply given up. No fight or resistance, just a flat cold acceptance of the situation. Would Sven have wanted this? Roslyn might've not known him nearly as well as Esmii, but she knew one thing.

She wouldn't simply accept this without resistance. Demons couldn't be trusted, she'd seen the evidence and she doubted it would be better to let one 'lift' her up.

"It's kind of you to offer..." Roslyn struggled to push back the temptation. Her head became dizzy as she dug in her heels, "...but no...thank you." Using whatever she had left, she channeled all of her gift into the arcane spell 'Light of Ahn-Shune'. The girl hoped it might distract him or break his hold. This was her last chance. She pressed her thumb to her middle finger then snapped them together, activating it.

"Rose I’m not going to let that thing have you.” Esmii's words cut through the air. The red haired Yasoi raised her pistols and fired. "Balthagor, you may have taken my love from me, but I will not let you take my best friend without a fight."

Meanwhile, Niallus continued to clash with Evil Smile. He looked ragged and torn, his body pushed past human limits toward the end. The demon's hand extended into a powerful beam that erupted forward at his prey. Lips curled back into an unnaturally wide grin filled with hungry teeth. Suddenly, a surge of mana gathered. Niallus' arcane lance punched through the attack and right into the demon's mouth. A gurgling wail came before the demon slumped forward, dead.

Despite Roslyn’s hope, she watched her spell fizzle then died. It hadn’t even reached the Grand Demon. That was it. A familiar numbness snaked its way from the back of her mind and swallowed up any remaining hope. There was nothing she could do now. Her limbs grew heavy with exhaustion as her arms dropped down to her side. Helplessly, she watched Belthagor turn to Niallus. He lowered himself and scorched the vast emptiness with each step, approaching her best friend.

Like puppets on a string, both Esmii and Roslyn twisted about and followed him. Despite the wasted effort, the young girl tried to stop herself. Her body didn’t listen to her anymore. Gradually, her gaze lowered to the ground. Her tears, born of anger and frustration, streaked down her cheeks.

"You," he admitted, "are stronger than I thought."

When Roslyn heard Belthagor acknowledging her friend, she doubted it was a good thing. Her head tilted up in time to see the man open his mouth and release a thick, strange smoke. It spread toward all three of them. As it started to curl about her, her skin prickled at its presence. She forced herself to speak.

“I-I want you two to know, I’m glad I‌ met you. You both showed me what it’s like to have real friends and I wish it didn’t end like this.” The girl braced herself for what was to come.



"I think I shall need a replacement for my underling," he declared. "Perhaps you'll do."

Time seemed to slow, leaving her to watch the haze swallow Niallus. Many regrets came to mind before the foul vapor finally recoiled from her friend's form. He stood upright then caught her eyes. Something inhuman writhe behind the once warm gaze. Roslyn's breath caught in her throat.

She noticed the Grand Demon turned his angelic guise upon them next.

The smoke raced from Niallus toward Esmii and her. It snaked itself around her boots then climbed her surface until she saw nothing, but white. The wispy tendrils burrowed into her pores. Something dark and oppressive weighed in her chest at first, then webbed out across her veins. The weight became sharp, painful pricks that pushed her into a tiredness. Her focus began to slog as memories began to flicker across her mind.

Wake up, please wake up. I have to stop this. This can't happen!

As if it heard her, the sensation stopped. She hung there like an exhausted fly forgotten by a spider. Her mind lingered in an eerie place between death and sleep. At some point, time passed and melted into the back of her head. No sense of it existed... until she sensed approaching figures.

Salvation?

**********

Their power exceeded her own, but she didn't know why they were here. Then, suddenly, Belthagore's host body twitched. Bones cracked and wrenched back, distorting from their natural angles. Seemingly an involuntary and painful act. A colossal flash cut through the hazy veil. Roslyn shot backwards when the light touched her. The familiar darkness of unconsciousness followed as her mind slipped from awareness.

Something had gone wrong in the demon's plan. Whatever that was, she'd never know. At least the nightmare was over, giving her a peace of mind that she didn't expect.

When the cold seeped into Roslyn’s skin, the girl twitched to life. She jerked upright, the vertigo hitting her harder than she expected. Her right hand pressed into her temple as the dizziness passed. When her blurry vision began to sharpen, her attention turned to her surroundings. Gone were the swampy scents and flora. In its place stood a cozy, underground room from its stone floor to its decorative ceiling. Her lips pursed. She had no faint memory or sense of familiarity over this place. Where was she?

She took a deep breath and tried to recall her last moments. Figures approached then a flash of light before she found herself here. Was there some sort of clash or fight? It still left questions on how she ended up here.

A voice, heavy and faint, caught her attention. Her head turned to see Sven laying not far from her and looking like himself. She relaxed then glanced about. No signs of Esmii or Niallus. Were they the only two to escape this nightmare? In the distance, she caught the voices of the others that left her behind. A bitterness coiled about her heart as she turned her attention to her friend. She weakly pushed onto her feet and walked toward him, checking him over for wounds. When she lowered down beside him, she spoke. “No. Afraid not, it's just me. Roslyn.”

Uncertain if he suffered any internal wounds, she reached out with her gift and prepared to heal with her binding. She continued to speak, holding back the emotional cracks in her voice. Right now, it is better to focus on anyone other than herself.

“I don’t know where Esmii or Niallus are. I’m not even sure where we are or how we got here.” She licked her lips nervously and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t recall much. Do you remember anything?”

Sven shook his head regretfully, wincing partway through. "She wash with me," he groaned. "She hash to be here shomewhere." He appeared utterly consumed with his concern for Esmii, stumbling to his feet and walking, trancelike, around the well-appointed room.

"Eshmii?" he called desperately. "Eshmii!" It was not very long before he stumbled into the others... at least some of them.

Roslyn remained seated when Sven rose up, her hands retreated into the folds of her skirt. The calm in her eyes weakened before she closed them and inhaled. As she collected herself, she heard him call for Esmii and her heart ached. Her fingers tightened their grip on her dress then released. I don’t understand, how did we escape? What happened?

A thought occurred to her. The skull… was it still there? She reached for her bag and pulled it open, searching through the interior. When her fingers hit something hard and covered in cloth, her breath stilled. She cautiously pulled the wrap aside to reveal white bone. Her whole frame relaxed instantly. Thank the Gods. I didn’t lose it.

She reflected on the new set of questions rushing through her head. If she tried to talk with Esmii, and her friend was alive, would it fail? Would that prove her best friend was at least alive? But what if Esmii’s voice came out of the skull? Her stomach churned at the possibility as she bit her lip. No, they had to be alive. They had to be. She pulled the wrap back over the skull as her hand took out the compass. Her mind envisioned Esmii’s dual pistols. While eyeing the needle, she got onto her feet. She looked up from her item when Laska was the first to arrive.

“Didn’t expect to…” She struggled with the words for a moment then finished her thoughts, “... see you all again.”

Underground Reunion

***********

Roslyn ignored Laska’s glance in her direction. It wasn't like she mattered to any of them as her attention fixated on the compass needle, half listening to things. The thing jittered but didn't move. Frowning, the girl spun in a circle. It didn't change direction and still twitched.

Sven's face lit up momentarily upon seeing the door open and people stream through, but it quickly fell and he slumped to the floor. "She ishn't here," he mumbled, "ish she?"

Edyta's face softened and she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Sven."

"And Niallush too..." Sven moaned, utterly bereft. Everything about his appearance seemed to mourn his loss.

"I am... sorry... it happened," she tried, "but Mother Eshiran will care for all of them. This, I promise." Laska struggled with consoling him."For now -" She was quick to move on. "- we need to find our way out."

She clicked the compass lid shut, giving up on her endeavor for now. "Well, I'm confused. I'm wondering if this thing has a sensing range or something." Her eyes turned to see Sven on the floor, grieving over Esmii and Niallus. A hard lump swelled in her throat as she considered what to say. From her own personal experience, words did little to spare the pain one felt from losing loved ones. Her footsteps drew closer to draw his attention.

"Esmii is not dead." Perhaps it was denial or something more, only those who had gotten to know her could tell. "But I don't think she's here. Once we get to Ersand’Enise, we’ll figure out what to do next. If there’s any chance Esmii and Niallus were saved, I won’t stop until we find them."

At the stone wall’s sudden movement, Roslyn froze in place. She couldn’t handle any more surprises today. Her fingers held on tightly to the bag strap as she waited to see what was behind it. The familiar stench of dragon dung hit her first. She wrinkled her nose and turned to follow Laska through.

“Three dragons, five people. That means two people are carrying an extra…” Her voice trailed off, knowing there was a chance they might leave Sven and her behind. After all, no one knew how they had escaped the Grand Demon’s grasp. “I have to confess, I’ve never ridden a dragon. Mainly just fed them and focused on keeping all of my fingers..”

The Hourglass Order

The Palaparese Revolution: Chapter 1:

Mahal Agha

"Selim, what happened?"

---

---

Homecoming

❖

In all this time away, Lunara learned, home is where you make it. Her hair usually tied up was let down and wafting, stretching out her arms, exhaling softly, she leaned back on her steed whom trotted the dirt path beaten into submission by years of other riding travelers. A lady of your station shouldn't be traveling alone! Her father would've preached. Why trot in the dirt concealing your destiny when you could be out there where the people can look up to you in all your brilliance? Her mother would've prodded. Of which did Lunara listen to more? Neither. She quite liked breaking expectations, it gave her that sweet release from pressures nobility charged on her, a life she did not have the luxury to choose as she was promptly reminded again and again of her duties as a noble lady of the house. Lunara may have learned another lesson about home, she could never escape far enough. Adding to her earlier thoughts, home is where you make it, if you can get far enough away from the one you're in.

Quite honestly Lunara wasn't looking forward to returning home. She liked Ersand'Enise, she fancied the differences in culture, perspectives, and ideas. There were plenty of books and rarely any insects flying around to make her squeamish. It was a place she'd like to continue to make home. Yet, it wasn't far enough from the nudge of her parents calling her back for duty, like a noose around her gut, she was pulled between feelings of safety and vulnerability.

Not far above, lurked Miray. If it weren't for their bond it would've been difficult to sense Miray's presence. She was silent and seamlessly blending in with the dappled light filtering through the thick canopy. Lunara, ever so often would glance up to catch glimpses of Miray weaving effortlessly through the jungle above, a smile cracking across her face, beautiful. As they rounded over a slight elevation Lunara spotted what Miray had already begun to stalk, a monkey.

The jungle seemed to hold its breath. With a swift launch from Miray, the jungle burst alive with sounds and colors from other creatures scattering out of the way. The intensity of the hunt was dialed up. Lunara went from falling asleep on her horse to pacing with the excited Goma and monkey. She matched the speed of the swift movements Miray was delivering in the canopy, the monkey finding difficulty with its catch and release of the trees it hugged under pressure. Both leaped. Only one landed. Miray's powerful jaw and claws gripped the monkey in mid-flight. The two tumbled through the air and for a split second, the monkey let out a high-pitched screech, a desperate chatter echoing among the trees.

The monkey twisted and flailed, attempted to wriggle free, but Miray's strength was unmatched. Her metallic canines gleamed as she locked her jaw delivering an electric charge through her teeth. The faint crackle emitted from her canines and sharply followed was the monkey's fade into submission.

Miray leaped down gracefully onto the jungle floor, her powerful limbs absorbing her impact. Her prey now silenced, the jungle seemed to return to the humming of casual life, background of insects and rustling leaves resuming as if acknowledging the hunt's end. Miray approached Lunara and dropped the monkey in front of her as if to say, you aren't a good hunter, so here I did it for you.

Lunara didn't much like monkeys and was always comforted that there was one thing in this life that always looked out to protect her from the things she didn't always notice were there at first, "Thank you, Miray, you're incredible, always protecting me. What would I do without you?" Lunara hopped down off the horse and graceful as Miray from the trees. Miray leaned into Lunara's touch, her fierce eyes softening, a subtle gesture of affection, another note to their unbreakable bond. Lunara remained off the horse, leading it by the reins to her home as she walked next to Miray. Why did she take the dirt path and the longer way home? Because she didn't want to leave the home she felt when she was away.

Lunara moved toward the entryway, through arches, and combed yard. She could hear her father's reproach in her mind: A lady of your station should be punctual. She imagined the disapproval etched on his face, the disappointment at the dust on her boots and the hint of wilderness she hadn't bothered to shake off. Brushing a stray leaf from her cloak, straightening her shoulders, she let out a slow exhale.

"Wait here, Miray," she murmured, stroking the Goma cat's head one last time before stepping inside. Miray settled back on her haunches, eyes fixed on the door. Once it closed, Miray bounded in the woods to see if she couldn't keep eyes on Lunara throughout the interior of the estate.

Inside, the hallways stretched out, echoing with memories of her childhood. Strange, how distant this place felt now. The ornate tapestries, the polished floors-they were relics of a life she had once been part of, but no longer felt connected to. She paused, taking a moment to steady herself. Her mind fitted back to Ersand'Enise, the freedom she'd felt, to the friends she'd made, and the perspectives she'd encountered. It was all so... far... far... away within these walls.

As she reached the door, she straightened once more, forcing a calm expression onto her face. The door creaked, there he was, seated behind his massive desk, a portrait of power and control. Ruslan looked up, his gaze sweeping over her, taking in the dust on her cloak, the wild look in her eyes that she hadn't managed to conceal.

"Lunara," he said, a hint of reproach already coloring his tone, "You've finally returned."

She met his gaze, her jaw set, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. "Yes, father," her voice steady.

She could feel the weight of his expectations pressing down on her, but she refused to let it bend her. Whatever lecture awaited her, she would face it as she had faced everything else.

Ruslan held a mask over his face as he let the moment stretched on. Finally, he placed his quill back into the ink well and set the recent news aside. In a smooth motion, he pushed onto his feet and walked around the table. He slowed upon approach, his hand held out for a proper greeting.

Once finished, her pulled it back and spoke. "Though I'm glad to see some things haven't changed. I think it's time we talk about your future." He gestured for the door, indicating for her to exit first.

Lunara’s gut churned as the words ‘future’ slipped from her father’s lips. What was he going to hold her responsible for now? As Ruslan gestured for Lunara to exit first, there was a brief thought, what if she just ran and never came back. Good riddance!

Yet, she found her feet walking lock step with her father. Her mind slipping into focus and her heart steadying. Lunara was always going to end up here with him, discussing her future. Was it not what he raised her for?

It would have been more accurate to suggest they’d be talking about Ruslan’s future and how Lunara would bring his vision and legacy into the next chapter, not her’s. It was never really about her.

“Ok, we’re walking - what about my future did you want to insert your input into?” She asked sarcastically.

"I see Ceren's attitude has worn off on you." Ruslan commented then added, "Perhaps it was unwise to send her to school with you. Even for protection."

He let his words settle in the air in hopes to temper her mood. Soon, the older man moved on and addressed the next issue. He kept his pace an amble since he had much to say. "Getting upset over what is expected of you, doesn't change the role you were born in. We each have our responsibilities to serve the family. Even if we're not fond of it."

Ruslan stared off into the distance for a moment, then exhaled. "Since you left, tensions have been rising in Palapar. Especially in the lower class. Recently, a few of our slaves were caught gathering together without permission. They had stolen one of the kitchen's knives and were heard plotting. According to the overseer, they planned to murder one of the guards and make a break for it into the jungle."

While he didn't know if the source could be trusted, it was enough to ensure punishment for even the thought of it. Those who rose above their rank often brought discord into society. Everyone had their place and for good reasons.

Lunara keeping to the etiquette of her station with an upright walk replied with a tone of defiance, "Ceren's attitude? No, this is mine, father." Her eyes steeled ahead, "And, yes, duty to family over one's self." A lesson she repeated back to him, the man she learned the code from.

Her father pressed on about his woes, Palapar, lower class, slaves, caught, stolen, plotting, and murder. These were all words she selected as he spoke his concerns and all Lunara could think about was, why?

She stopped for a moment, turned toward her father, "Why do our slaves want to run?" An answer Lunara knew, yet, she was intrigued at what her father might conjure up as a serious thought.

Ruslan frowned at his daughter's statement. It was clear he didn't believe her words as he continued to lead onward.

"They are unable to be more than what they are. So they chose to run rather than shoulder their expectations. " Ruslan's voice oozed with confidence from the lessons he had learned as a child. "Little do they know about how the world works. The strong will always rule and it is by their mercy, the weak is allowed to exist."

Lunara's face was slightly down as she listened. Ruslan's words bounced in her head, his view of these people were oddly similar to his view of her. The difference was his daughter had escaped but his slaves had not.

Her eyes lifted, "By their mercy?" Lunara sighed, was it worth the trouble? She started to chuckle, "Thank the Pentad for their mercy!" Her tone mockingly in delivery. "So, what will the strong do to rectify such rebellion?"

Ruslan noted the disapproval, but stilled his tongue. If she had been Ceren, things would've been different. All it took was a swift slap to the jaw to bring her sister to heel. However, Lunara was stronger. A reason that made him proud despite her behavior.

"When words fail, they use force. Currently that is the direction I see things going if the weak don't fall back into line. That has never changed." If he was pleased to reveal this fact to her, his face didn't show it. "It would be wise to remember that or you risk becoming a target yourself. Or worse, the family does."

Their path took them in a wider room near the house entrance.

Lunara listened. She didn't believe him, but she listened. What was the use to change the ideas of a man who believed the world was always exactly how he saw it. All this talk of burdening responsibility, The burden of strength, responsibility, and the place of the weak, all were his ideas and no one else's. At the end of the day - he is what he is, a product of his environment.

"I'll remember."

~~~~~

How long had it been? The rains continued to drench Mahal as her anxiety rolled off her. Her eyes rested on the main house wedged firmly between the coffee fields and native jungle. Like a jewel set in the center of a green crown. One built of stone, ironwood, and hand crafted tile. Yet underneath its surface, Mahal knew the beauty to be skin deep. She remembered the screams and blood she shed within its wall and across its grounds.

Lost in the memories, a soft whine drew her attention. The girl twitched to life and looked down. She saw both her young dogs studying her intently, their tails drooped and ears perked. Their forms waiting impatiently for her next words. Something wet slide across her neck causing her eyes to look at her shoulder. The familiar red skin of Diyablos clung to her shoulder and seemed to touch her cheek. This broke the spell over her. She turned her head forward, inhaled then walked toward the house. Shortly all four slipped under the wooden roof.

"Ipte-Zept's Blessing." A burst of heat flushed her body and evaporated the water into steam. Meanwhile the dogs shook themselves, scattering droplets across the floor. Supok yawned then half bowed, stretching down upon her front legs. As she rose back up, her head glanced about causing Mahal to click her teeth. "Stay with me. Don't go wandering off."

The pup stared at her before something caught her attention. Noticing the distraction, Mahal followed her companion's gaze. It rested on the farthermost corner of the room. Slowly, one by one, the shadows began to detached themselves from the darkness and stalked into the light. Goma cats, about six them, circled about the intruders. Mahal tracked each one before the largest, a male, drew uncomfortable close. He waited for something. Cautiously, she stretched her palm outward. The feline purred then rubbed his whiskered cheek across it.

Mahal's stomach tightened in her middle. "What do you mean, tending to her? Is she sick?"

He paused, averting his gaze. Mahal pressed again. "Selim, what happened?"

"Another accident."

"Another?" Mahal's nostrils flared. She knew something would happen in her absence. It never failed and she cursed herself for not being here to stop it. Her hands tightened into fists as her teeth gritted, her form shaking.

Seeing the fury roll off her, Selim placed a hand on her shoulder. "Calm down. While misfortune visited Onaona, she is still with us. The Gods were merciful and it was not her time for judgement yet."

The tension in Mahal's shoulders fade while her eyes gave him a grateful look. "So she's okay then? Why didn't you say that from the start?"

"She's alive, but not the same as before. I wasn't here when the accident happened and I couldn't heal all of the damage. " He pursed his lips before revealing the ugly truth. "She can't walk any more."

Before Mahal could ask to see her, Puno gave a soft woof. The girl's attention shifted as her form froze in place. Her eyes met her father's. His expression darkened with disapproval. Immediately, her head tilted downward and her breath hitched in her throat. The girl forced down the anxiety rising into her pounding chest. This wasn't suppose to happen. She intended to get in and out without anyone knowing... yet she failed to do so.

Ruslan drifted from Lunara's side and stepped toward her. His voice, low and disapproving, addressed her. "You were the last person I expected to be here, Ceren. Explain."

His presence loomed over her like a predator upon a small, helpless creature. Mahal swallowed the growing lump in her throat. "I-I..." She paused, collecting her strength. "I missed home."

Lunara hasted to her sister’s side, bumping her father’s shoulder. Her arms wide open to embrace Ceren.

“Sis! I didn’t expect you to be here, glad you are though!” Wrapping her arms around Ceren. Although missing home was a stretch.

Mahal's jawline tightened. The canines at her side grew unease causing their fur to bristle and forms lower defensively. Puno looked ready to lounge at her father. It was enough to draw out Diyablos as she felt a small tentacle reach out and grip her fingers. Instinctively, her fingers curled into the comforting gesture.

Before her father spoke again, Lunara brushed past him. A subtle twitch entered his form as he fell still and collected himself. The favoritism was clear in Mahal's eyes, but she knew better than to call it out. Never the less, it fed the anger settling in her heart. Especially knowing her mother could never walk again because of him. Spotting Lunara's welcoming gesture, Mahal became distracted from her thoughts. She almost stepped back, but stopped herself. The girl freed her hand of Diyablos's grasp and then leaned into her half-sister's embrace. It lasted only for a moment. Her last words had been a hasty lie and if anyone knew it, it would be Lunara and Selim.

Ruslan's scrutinized her behavior like everything else she did. "You know you should've sent word you were here. Or does Ersand'Enise not teach proper manners?"

The tension in the air grew, electrifying it like a calm before the storm. Mahal's patience gradually began to slip underneath her cold mask. Selim sensed this and stepped forward. Keeping his posture relaxed, he directed his words toward Lunara instead of her father. "Permission to speak?"

Lunara and Mahal had not always seen eye to eye but what they both felt and agreed on were the terms of this home and their place here - it was not their own. Siblings bonded in feudal chains rather than the warmth of love. Ironclad expectations turning and twisting against their flesh and weighted down by a family they seemed to care less of who they were and more of what they were supposed to represent.

Slamming through the tension, their father's voice striking with the force of a blacksmith wielding a hammer. Desperate to shape crude metal into a fine blade. Yet, as harshly as he struck and as many times as he tried. Ruslan was as good a craftsman as he was a loving father.

Lunara sensing Mahal's tension beginning to build in her expression, when Selim proposed his question, Lunara snapped at the opportunity to avoid her half-sister from bearing fangs, "You may." Lunara nodding in acknowledgement.

While Selim was a gentle soul, he knew his worth and used it to his advantage in times like this. The men's eyes met for a brief moment. Ruslan's burned with his wounded pride while Selim took advantage of grace given to him.

"My apologizes." He prayed for Ahn-Shune's forgiveness for the half-truths he wove. "Ceren had just entered when we crossed paths. She mentioned her mother, and I spoke of her condition. I do believe seeing her daughter will lift Mistress Onaona's spirits. Especially now." He stepped carefully around the incident, ensuring the father's sin stayed hidden. May Dami have mercy on his soul over this deception.
Lunara'a instinctually asked, "What about her condition?" Her throat felt like swallowing a bag of rocks and her heart started to hasten. The tone behind Selim's message left Lunara concerned about Onaona's health.

After hearing the news Lunara’s throat choked. She was at a loss of words. Onaona had took care of Lunara since she was a baby. She was a good woman and she never thought that same woman would be in a position where she couldn’t even take care of herself.

“Where is she?”

"In her room." Selim answered as he remained behind with Mahal. He dare not leave those two alone.

Once that question was answered. Lunara took off to see Onaona at her bedside.

Suffering in Silence

❖❖

After a conversation with their father, Mahal wiped the blood from her lip. She found Selim shortly after and followed him to her mother's room. The healer's arm reached out and pulled the cloth door to the side. She paused then strode in. According to Selim, Lunara had finished her visit earlier though hesitated to leave.

Gradually Mahal's vision adjusted to the dim light. The shuttered remained close with a few cracks letting in rays of sun. It still made the room darker than it should causing her to squint. She paused on the woven grass mats, their texture rough against her bare feet. Mahal settled next to one of the wizard cap mushroom vases and checked the withered flowers. A painful regret entered the woman's eyes as she gently brushed the dying plants. Pivoting on the ball of her foot, she brought herself face to face with the four post bed. In the center sat a figure, slender and still, surrounded by veiled nets to keep the bugs out.

"Mother?" Mahal allowed the dogs to wander, her focus drawn to her mother.

The shadow shifted in the bed as the woman reached over, her arm pulled back the nets. "Mahal, is that you? Truly you?"

Onaona looked thinner than Mahal remembered her last. She noted the tautness and then the forgotten tray of fruit nearby. Casually, the daughter selected a dish and gave it a cautious sniff. She frowned at the sour odor causing her to set the tray to the side.

"Selim, can you tell one of the slaves to prepare some fresher food? Some fried kicker snails or marinated meat? Something good for her healing."

"I'm not hungry," Onaona protested only to be silenced by Mahal's next words.

"No. You need to eat something. Besides, we haven't eaten together in a very long time."

"Very well. I would be a horrible mother if I didn't share a meal with you." The playfulness in her voice rang in the air.

Mahal lowered herself onto the end of the bed as Onaona reached out her hand. Her gaze lingered on the busted lip, but said nothing. Gently, Mahal's hand overlapped her mother's. Despite the affection, she couldn't bring herself to make eye contact. Words lingered in the back of her mind, but she dare not say them. What could she say? Sorry for leaving? No, no words could expression her shame properly. She shook herself mentally and moved on.

"Good. Ersand'Enise doesn't have kicker snails." While she wanted to bask in the affection for hours, she had little time to spend here. "Lunara likely asked earlier, but I'm asking again. It is true what Selim said? That you can't walk now?"

Onaona pulled away her hand and laid it in her lap. She forced a smile while she explained. "Yes, sadly. It was a foolish mistake and my own fault. I should've known better."

"What happened?" Mahal's demanding tone caused her mother to flinch. She regretted it instantly.

"Onaona," Selim's informal use of her mother's name caught Mahal's attention. Her head turned and studied him, noticing the care in his address. "Stop blaming yourself, it hurts my heart to see you carry this. It's not your fault."

"Selim, please. It was nothing. As I told Lunara, it was an accident. Can we not talk about this?"

He shook his head. "I disagree. It needs to be shared in order to heal. She's not the only one to feel guilty and if I had been quicker, you would still be able to walk."

Onaona defended him. "You were out collecting herbs for salves. Without them, many slaves would've lost their fingers to infection by now. Especially with the demand Virang is making on the plantations." She then added. "I was foolish to think I could get close without getting hurt. Even his first wife doesn't dare approach him during a mood. I simply forgot why..."

It was Selim's turn to sigh. He moved from the door frame and rested a hand on Onaona's shoulder. The woman pressed her lips together and the fake smile crumbled. She toyed with a strand of long, black hair to avoid speaking. Instead, it was him that cut the silence. "Stop making excuses for him, you've given him enough to last several life times."

Raising her hand to touch his, she gave in. She turned to Mahal, her voice depressed and defeated. "Both your father and you have a temper. He was already on the verge of exploding when I got too close. I thought I could calm him, but..."

She licked her lips and continued. "Selim has taught me a bit about the Gift, but it wasn't enough. He unleashed his kinetic and I crashed into a pillar. I just remember a sharp pain in my spine and passing out. I woke up here with Selim healing me. So... at least he didn't leave me on the floor."

"Yes, I suppose. Still, I pray to Oraff-Zept that it will never happen again."

Mahal sat there quietly reflecting on what happened. Her head bowed and she clamped down on her emotions. It didn't stop the frustration and helplessness from poisoning her core. Why wasn't she there? She could've stopped it. Feeling the emotional build up, her fist flung out. It slammed into one of the posts and splintered the wood on impact. Both Onaona and Selim jumped. The healer had already placed himself protectively in front of her mother.

"Sorry," She quickly apologized and retracted her hand back. Some things didn't change and she hated it.

Feeling her pain, Diyablos ventured out from her satchel. His tentacles scaled her arm until he reached her shoulder. They carefully wrapped around her neck as if hugging her close. The dogs drew nearer too. Supok bounced her front paws onto the edge of the bed. She whined and wagged her tail, pleading for attention from Onaona.

"Oh? Who's this little fellow?" The woman took Supok's large head into her hands. She started to scratch the firehound's chin and ear causing her foot to thump the floor. The young pup melted into the affection.

"She, that's Supok. This is Diyablos and that's-" Before Mahal could introduce her, the updog rushed onto the bed. Her muzzled pressed into the woman's face and tongue licking at her skin. Seeing her mother curl away, Mahal barked out a command. "Puno, down!"

Onaona raised her head and brushed off her daughter's worry. "It is no trouble, Mahal. She's just excited. What an adorable and pretty girl."

Mahal took in the shift of the atmosphere. Soon after, a servant arrived with a tray of kicker snails and other delicacies to feast upon. About one of the few benefits allowed for their station, but it wouldn't last forever. Her eyes shifted from her mother back to Selim as she recalled the moment shared between them. In her absence, something dangerous developed between them. A devotion born of hardship and need. She put it aside for now and sought to enjoy the present while it lasted.

---

OOC: Reposted here to line up with the story better. :P

The Hourglass Order

Mahal Agha

"Nothing I do matters, unlike you."

---

---

Bonds of Flesh and Bone

❖

Noting the rain gently pouring outside, Mahal sighed. She leaned back against the window overlooking the street below. As the corner stones darkened, people held their hands aloof and scattered for cover. Some disappeared into buildings while others into carriages. The girl's attention shifted upward when she heard Puno stir. Above her, the small canine looked at her. The large, fluffy tail casually wagged in greeting. Mahal gave a low whistle. Immediately Puno scrambled toward the end of the shelve then leapt off. Her skin flaps stretched out and caught a bit of air before she landed nearby. The Palaparese woman reached out to scratch underneath the canine's chin. "Good girl."

Her legs twisted about as she kicked onto her feet. She strolled over to a large tank resting in the corner of her room. Dipping her arm below the water's surface, Diyablos stirred. The small creature crawled out of his burrow. With a gentle grip, he climbed up her arm and rested on her shoulder. A little whine drew Mahal's attention. Supok lift her head from underneath the bed's covers. Mahal called with authority. "Halika na."

Instantly, the hound rushed to her side as she exited. The small group of a girl, an octopus, and two hounds moved quickly down the hallway. Upon reaching Lunara's room, Mahal tapped her knuckles hard on the door. "Lunara, are you busy?"

Lunara was sat on her table, in the middle of her room playing with her Goma cat Miray, Ground Octopi Terra and Lilypad thresher Kamelya. On the table were three bowls full of food, for her pet's and a tea pot with a matching tea cup full of tea. The pet food and tea was given to her and made by her new friend Esmii. Lunara found the tea to be very tasty with a pleasant smell and after taste.

Just as she was about to take another sip from her cup, she heard a knock at the door and then her sisters voice. Lunara placed the cup back down and quickly answered, her so that she wasn't waiting outside. "Come in Mahal, I'm not busy."

Mahal hesitated. It was unlike her to do such a thing as she stood there, her hand resting on the handle. Her middle twisted about like a swarm of rosy threshers in her guts. She inhaled and pushed out the sensation. Her fingers tightened and she entered the room. Supok rushed after her where she delivered a loud booming woof. She wagged her tail before she rushed to tackle Miray. Mahal snapped her fingers together followed by a command. The fire hound dug in her heels as she smacked onto her rump. Her head looked back at her master with a small whine. Mahal sighed while she approached her half sister, Puno coolly walking beside her.

"I'm sorry, Supok loves to play with Miray. May I sit?" Her hand gestured to the spot across from Lunara.

Lunara let out a little giggle upon seeing Supok wanting to play with Miray. While Miray waited eagerly for Lunara to give her the command to let her play with her fire hound friend.

"It's fine, it seems that they are really good friends. It seems Miray want to play too." she walked up to greet her sister with a hug. "You are just in time, I made tea and have some sweets, would you like to join me, dear sister."

"It is likely because when Supok tries to play with Puno, the updog climbs just out of reach. She is not very fond of rolling about." Mahal commented as she released the hound from her command. Supok rushed for Miray and began to zoom about the room, growling happily.

At the mention of having made tea and some sweets, Mahal's right eyebrow raised. She pulled closer to the low sitting table before folding her legs up and sitting down. "You made this?" She gestured over the sweets and tea. Her voice then took on a light, teasing quality. "What would Dalma say? Isn't labor suited for the slaves and servants? Don't tell me that Ersand'Enise culture been rubbing off on you. Father wouldn't like that."

Watching Miray and Supok chased each other around, pouncing and play with each other. Her attention shifted to Mahal sitting opposite her mentioning about the tea and sweets. "But of course. I am a young woman, I need some hobbies that aren't too boring. Esmii and Ayla helped me on how to make the sweets." Lunara responded. Petting the coon kitten that was on her lap, she lifted the kitten off of her person, placing it in front of a bowl with cat food in. The kitten dove straight in, eating to its delight.

"This culture was indeed strange at first, but it seems to grow on a person." she remarked, taking a sip of tea.

"Besides, father isn't here, so I don't really care what he says right now. Besides all he'll do is just complain."

Mahal's mood soured at Lunara's dismissive words and attitude. Casually her arms reached for the kettle and a cup, pouring herself some. She raised it to her lips then let the bitter, floral aroma wash over her. As she set it down, her tongue clicked against her teeth. "He isn't, but we will be returning home at some point. Sadly, it won't be you that gets the worst of his 'complaints'. It was my responsibility to ensure Ersand'Enise didn't corrupt you too much and to keep you safe. It was only reason he let me come along at all."

She set the cup down then reached over to scratch top of the kitten's head briefly. Her eyes still turned to her half-sister's direction. Her hand pulled back as she reached into her pouch for a bone. She popped it in then rolled it around against her cheek while she continued. "During the school's errand to Kiluaho, I encountered Ren Baykara. Lunara, he plans to visit the plantation at some point. I'm going to have to write father and inform him before then."

Lunara placed her cup delicately back on the saucer, while pondering on what her sister said about there father and how he reacts. "You are quite right sister, please forgive me. I only brewed the tea myself as Miss Esmii showed me how to as it is brewed differently to normal tea." She then thought and stated "I will show the servants how to brew it properly, so that no one gets the wrath of father."

She then took another sip of tea, and listened to her sister again. After her sister had finished what she was saying, Lunara thought if the name, which she recognised. She recalled all of the times a man by that name visited, her father made sure that Lunara was dressed beautifully, at the time she didn't know why. But she only saw the man for a brief time, before her mother escorted her somewhere else, then she remembered hearing the man and her father having serious talks. decided to ask. "I know Ren Baykara, or I have at least met him briefly. Do you know what his intentions are?"

Mahal relaxed when Lunara yielded to her reasoning. "Good. According to father, slaves and servants will get lazy and that isn't good."

She turned toward the door. The girl servant, Pua, stood just outside waiting for instructions. "Pua, make some suya for dinner tonight with some sticky rice and roasted vegetables. Also, bring some fried crickets and meat pies up for a snack."

Pua bowed then promptly disappeared down the stairs. Upon hearing the last of her footsteps fade, Mahal turned her attention back to Lunara. She shrugged. "I'm guessing I impressed him during the mission? Honestly, I'm not sure. Father won't be happy to entertain him more than needed." Not wanting to linger in her dread, Mahal moved on. "I thought it was best you were made aware. So, what have you been up to while I was gone?"

Lunara on hearing her sister asking for fried crickets, her face dropped. On seeing her sister turn back to her she tries to hide her disgust. After her sister voiced her concern Lunara added. "Try not to worry about Father, dear sister, and thank you for letting me know.

Lunara thought for a moment, about what she had done recently. "Well dear sister, I went on an adventure with some of the students. We went to find a Yasoii's kidnapped son." She then refilled her tea cup, and grabbed a few biscuits and cakes.

Mahal didn't comment on the mention of father. It was easy for her sister to say and a stab of jealousy rippled through her. The girl inhaled to keep her temper in check as she caught the mention of a kidnapped yasoi boy. Her eyes stared hard at her half-sister. She struggled to keep her voice steady against her rising anxiety. "Adventure? I thought I asked you to stay home while I was gone. Did you go into that place called Mucktown or whatever it's call?"

Lunara looked away from her sister, as she knew she was annoyed at her. "Do you mean Mudville, dear sister." She stated worryingly knowing she was in trouble. "Well I got bored, and saw that they needed help. So I assisted them and I took Miray with me. I did well at protecting myself, and almost made one man urinate himself." She rambled on as she didn't know what else to do. "Anyway enough about my adventure dear sister. How was yours?"

"No, you are not changing the subject. What would've happened if you got hurt?" Mahal stated in a fuming manner. She paused, pressing her fist against her mouth to cool her temper. After a moment or two, she then asked, "What happened exactly?"

Lunara looked away from Mahal and said. "Sorry sister. I just wanted to help." She waited to get scolded off Mahal again, but on hearing her sisters words, she looked up at her and smiled. "Well we went..." Lunara went on to explain what happened over that days Mahal was away, she left out no detail and explained everything she did and saw. You could tell by her expressions that she had fun.

When Lunara finished, Mahal went still. In this moment, her father and her shared eerie similarities as she fought to keep her temper in check. Finally, her hand made a fist and slammed down on the table. It rattled the kettle and dishes. Her sister easily shrugged off the danger she put herself in, but Mahal didn't. "I can't leave you alone, can I? You willingly put yourself and Miray into danger. What would've happened if you had been seriously injured? Selim isn't here to heal you if you lose a limb."

She pushed herself onto her feet then started to pace. "Even worse, what if none of the students decided to help you? What if they weren't even there? Did you actually think about that?"

Lunara was shocked at first, however, the shock was quickly replaced by anger, at her sister's reaction, and she decided to defend herself and her decision. "Don't raise your voice at me, sister." She placed the cat on the floor, stood up and walked towards Mahal. She looked straight into her sister's eyes and spoke in a raised but firm voice.

"I am my own person, I don't just wait here for you to return. I have seen the nightlife of our home and culture without the servants around me when I snuck out at night. Being here has given me even more freedom than I could ever have imagined. For the first time, I can choose who I want to be friends with." She stopped to take a breath and think about what she wanted to say next.

"I am not the spoiled and sheltered child I was when I was younger. I have grown into a better version of myself. And I made the decision to help a family who needed me, I couldn't just stand there and do nothing. What would you have done in my place?"

Sensing the tension in the room rise, Supok whined. Her ears folded back and her body lowered to the ground. Meanwhile, Puno had climbed up a support to a shelf to escape it. Diyablos remained loyally by his mother's side though curled in and matching the carpet.

Like an angry goma cat, Mahal curled her lips and bared a bit of her teeth. Such a display back at home would've had her back handed for the disrespect. Not here though. Her eyes darkened as Lunara drew closer to her personal space, mimicking Dalma. Mahal dug her heels to resist lashing out. Her efforts crumbled when her sister mentioned sneaking out.

"Nothing I do matters, unlike you. You claim not to be the same, but I don't see any difference. You don't think about things other than yourself." Mahal's face came to rest inches from her sister's face. Fury rolled off her skin like never before and crackled the air slightly with magnetic. "When we were younger, they saw you coming back. Not me. I thought I was careless, but it was you the whole time. Let me ask you a question. Do you think everything changes because we're here?"

Mahal pulled back from Lunara and stormed off to the exit. "Let me answer that for you: it doesn't."

Lunara noticed a shift in her sister's body language and facial expression, indicating a change in her demeanour. It dawned on her, too late, that she had encroached on Mahal's personal space. Despite this realization, she chose not to retreat. She attentively absorbed her sister's outburst. As she was compared to her younger self, Lunara's irritation swelled, a fact not lost on Mahal. ”I acknowledge that I have evolved since my childhood," she retorted with escalating frustration.

Upon witnessing her sister storming out of her bedroom, Lunara followed her and retorted to her sister's previous remarks. "I am aware of the differential treatment you receive. While I acknowledge that my decision to embark on the mission may have been reckless, I made that choice independently for once." She stated, pausing briefly, she continued, "You often express your desire for my personal growth, learning, and independence. Yet, the moment I exhibit those qualities, you emulate our father by diminishing my accomplishments."

Mahal's anger rose with the chase. Her feet kicked into a fast pace and she immediately, she exited the dorm. Puno and Supok, not sure what to do, followed shortly behind. Meanwhile, Diyablos clung to her as he refused to let go. The feared what she might do if she stayed in the dorms for much longer. So her attention turned toward the only place she knew she could unleash it all: The Proving Grounds.

After her sister had disappeared from her sight, she forcefully slammed the door behind her and returned to the table where her tea, cakes, and biscuits were laid out. Sitting down on the chair, she let out a heavy sigh and reflected on the situation, thinking to herself, Well, that was a mistake. I shouldn't have confronted her like that. I'm sorry, Mahal. All the animals emerged from their hiding spots, and Miray settled beside Lunara, resting her head on her lap. Observing this, Lunara began to gently stroke Miray. After a brief moment of contemplation, she remarked to Miray, "I wonder how long Mahal's silent treatment will endure this time."

The Hourglass Order

Putting up the first NPC for Roslyn's crew here. Tried to make him more of a hard hitter, but not sure if I accomplished that well. I wasn't sure how high of points for his magic I could go and didn't want him to overshadow her too much.

Eike Agnarsson

Eike Agnarsson

“You're small for being a captain."

38 | Male | Esklandish | Commoner | 8.10

P E R S O N A L I T Y

❖ [Gruff]
❖ [Stubborn]
❖ [Practical]
❖ [Patient]
❖ [Loyal]

C H A R A C T E R A P P E A R A N C E

❖[Eyes] Water Blue
❖[Hair] Dirty Blonde
❖[Skin] Fitzpatrick type III
❖[Height] 8' (about 243 cm)
❖[Weight] 275 lbs/ about 124 kg
❖[Physique] Brawny
❖[Distinct Physical Notes] Looks like a small giant from some fairytale, his face has a diagonal scar across it. It flows from the left side of his temple down to his right cheek. A small bit of it trails across his eye, though it is unharmed. It is unlikely that is the only one on his form.
❖[Style of Clothing/Accessories] Upon his large form is a simple, long sleeved tunic woven from traded furs and wool. It's worn in patches on his form and sewed up with tendon and sinew. Rarely is he ever seen without his two handed ax that took him years to purchase. Upon the middle finger of his right hand rests an iron ring with a tiny garnet in the center.

L A N G U A G E S

Eskandish- Native
Avincian- Passable (rarely speaks it)
Hendlish- Passable (speaks like a young child)

T H E G I F T

Mana types: Redblood, Titanblood
Magnetic- 2
Arcane- 4
Binding- 0
Chemical- 5
Kinetic- 5

M O T I V A T I O N

Based on what he told her, he's an experienced sailor looking for a ship to serve on. At the time, it seemed like only the Nuvole Rosse was hiring and so he jumped on it. He made an intimidating impression as Hranf, his raven companion, took to the small captain immediately.

M I S C E L L A N E O U S N O T E S

Hranf. A companion, wild raven that has followed Eike for years. He once found the small creature injured and spend a month nursing the creature back to health. The raven has been following him ever since. It is his eyes in the skies and surprise attack, the bird having a sharp mind and a clever wit. Some times, Hranf will play harmless pranks upon those he likes or give them affectionate nuzzles. While the bird might appear well tamed, he isn't and shows it through his nature.

Hexcode:7076B1

The Hourglass Order

Roslyn Wicke

"What can you tell us about the threat?"

It Came from the Bog

Location: Viiqii - Qarii’Muuna, Mycormi

Just the Beginning

Roslyn and Xiuyang

*

Roslyn pulled a strand of hair from her face. She dressed in a simple skirt, a dark blouse, and boots when she stepped off the boat's edge onto the dock. Strapped to her side was a satchel with her things. She had even used one of her rosy wicks beforehand to clear her mind. The eerie silence struck her first causing a shiver to slither down her spine. Don Cojones... She tried to conjure up his image, but she had been far too young to recall him properly. Just vague details. Her jaw tightened as she forced herself to relax.

She zeroed in on the Aamii tent where Lord Arcaan resided. She lightened her weight with kinetic and carefully navigated her way toward the tent. Any muck that managed to get on her was sterilized with binding and chemical. Based on how things looked, she didn't dare take risks.

“Where did Suulii go?” demanded a man's voice, fiery and with his jimmies rustled.

“Scouting, I presume.” answered a calmer and slightly more mature in intonation voice of a male.

“In the swamp?! Does she want to end up like Yasii and Olax?” the exasperated voice sighed. “We can't afford more losses.”

“We won't make any headway if we remain idle, sir. And reinforcements are a luxury we aren't likely to receive. I still stand by the fact that losses should be cut, Lord Aamii.”

“Losing Viiqii is one thing, but the land itself would be a coup de grâce, Yamo. We may as well neck ourselves here and now.”

Then, it got silent. “One moment, my lord, we have another one.”

Emerging from the tent was a Yasoi man, late-thirties with a goatee and mid-length brown hair. Very tall with an officer's garb and a longsword to his hip. Behind him, through a small opening, was a dapper younger man with colorful, almost regal-like, clothing. “We have nothing to share with prospectors.” the older Yasoi male decreed with an indifferent coldness in his tone, as if he was reciting a sentence onto yet another poor soul.

Belatedly, another portal appeared, and from it emerged Xiuyang. She appeared disheveled, as though she'd been in a hurry to make it—but in good spirits. Armed with twin pistols on her hips and the blood-sucking lance from the Trials, she'd come wearing her old thresher-hunting mask which would protect her sensitive lungs from the horrible bog air.

She took a look around, eyeing the various places and persons of interest. Noting that each had a student on the case, she decided to intercede for Roslyn.

"Nae, friend. We come not to plunder, but to preserve," Xiuyang assured him.

"That treasure which I seek is the blood of that beast which in its wrath has done this terrible thing."

Xiuyang was speaking Mycormish, but for some reason, her Mycormish was sounding a little... old-fashioned? Just what kind of reference materials did Queen Hylaenii give her, anyway?

As Roslyn approached the tent, she overheard bits of a concerning discussion. Eventually her footsteps alerted them to her presence and everyone went silent. The tent entrance ruffled shortly after as an older yasoi exited, confronting her with icy words. Before she said a word, a familiar voice spoke up beside her.

Roslyn's eyes snapped to the source. Xiuyang? What was she doing here? The girl's head tilted a bit, noting the mention of a beast. She wondered how much more Xiuyang knew about the situation than she did. Also... what was with that accent?

The older gentleman from the tent cocked his head and raised a brow. “You do not speak like any Huusoi I know.” the wary warrior stood stiff and tactically between the humans and the Aamii lord. Although the noble young man had better plans that precautions as he approached.

“Yamo, Yamo!” exclaimed Arcaan. “Are you really rebuffing help? One that speaks the tongue too?”

“I've seen one too many grifters, my lord. And Vyshta has long since forsaken this place.”

“Yamo.” an air of authority suddenly came from the otherwise established pushover. “Stand down.”

Yamo, hand on the hilt, took a moment to relent. It was not hesitation - he was sizing up the two. With the corner of his lips folding, he retreated back.

“My apologies.” spoke the Aamii, this time in Avincian. “We've lost men and we don't take kindly to vultures.” he gestured invitingly for the two to come in. “Lord Arcaan'toras'aamii, heir to this side of the Halitz and voice of Southern Qarii'muuna.” he offered his hand in a very human welcome.

“It is a grand relief to hear external relief has finally arrived. As you can see,” he looked toward his guard that had nearly kicked them out. “we desperately lack men. And we hardly even know what we are truly facing. You would think a naturalborn Qarii'muuna boy would know everything about swamps, and yet ...” a look of anxiety took him as he looked over his short guests, right at the creeping fen.

Roslyn watched the brief exchange between the Lord and his guard. "No need to apologize. I imagine being pestered by treasure hunters, day in and out, would sour anyone's mood. Especially when you need to shoo them away." When the Aamii offered his hand to her, she took it and introduced herself. "Roslyn Wicke, from Hendland."

Placing her hands back on her bag strap, she noticed where his gaze went. Don't get paranoid, she cautioned her imagination. "To be honest with you, this doesn't feel like a normal thing for a swamp. Even the animals are behaving strangely." She replied then followed up with a question, "What can you tell us about the threat?"

“It is not a normal occurrence.” confirmed the young lord as he turned on his heels to find an assortment of scrolls rolled open on the only table in the tent. “Suuli has been keeping keen eyes on the water's progress, and in the six days its been here, its thirty-seven meters in radius.” a graph with multiple re-drawn perimeters was tapped with his long and thin finger. “We do not know what it is, but it has nothing to do with nature. The most worrying is what happened before this, in Miira'moraa-”

Then Yamo immediately interjected. “My Lord, I would advise not disclosing any more.” solemn, dry and with challenging eyes, the Aamii seemed very hesitant to assert himself.

“Miira'moraa was-” still, Arcaan found some willpower.

“Arcaan.” Yamo spoke with familiarity, his demeanor quickly degrading into a look of frustration.

“This isn't the first settlement that's been devoured. This thing spreads and moves quickly.” admitted the young lord. His guard exhaled in deep exacerbation.

Roslyn edged closer to see the scrolls laid out on the table. Her concern grew the more she heard as the two clashed again. This time over sharing information causing her lips to press tighter together. Happened before, in Miira'moraa? Not the first settlement devoured?!? Spreads... like an infection? She didn't expect that and it made the situation more unsettling.

"It's only a matter of time before it becomes everyone's problem, not just Viiqii's." So many questions flooded Roslyn's brain, but she had to be selective. Miira'morra was a touchy topic, but it was obvious it was the first victim to whatever plagued this land. She decided to come back to that topic later.

"I apologize if this comes off as insensitive, but you mentioned you lost men. I assume it was whatever this is. Were any of the bodies recovered? If so, what state were they in? It might give us some clues."

“None. No trace. Only the bog.” Yamo answered Roslyn’s flurry of queries with a single unsettling fact. “They were taken silently. Only Suulii saw something, and yet she still roams the waters. In the air, but still in enemy territory.”

“But with more muscle and the information we’ve gathered, we may just-” Arcaan was cut off once more, but this time it wasn’t a guard or his own overthinking. From outside came the shriek all those in the bog would hear.

Sounds Like Trouble

**

Things happened fast and suddenly. Hearing the shriek, Roslyn's eyes darted to the tent's entrance. Then came the rip of the cloth when something began to crash down on them. Common sense crumbled to instinct when she shouted, "Watch Out!" Her hand gripped her compass hanging off her bag. Glowing with the item's energy, she accelerated her movement. Her other hand reached for Arcaan's arm as she tried to pull him out of the way. Meanwhile, she drew from the vine's momentum in hopes to slow it down.

Roslyn had successfully shoved the Aamii lord out of the way, just barely avoiding getting flattened herself. The giant vine crashed into the tent, causing the whole edifice to cave into itself and furniture to fling about. Draped with the colours of the Aamii household as they landed, both Roslyn and Arcaan were deprived of sight for a brief moment - a moment where the tentacle remained very much active.

It wiggled and flailed, just barely missing the duo and bringing its attention to the sound of a blade being drawn.

“Arcaan!” called out Yamo with his straight sword raised toward the invading appendage. His intention was not to actually slay the extension of the swamp, but to distract it long enough to cover his lord's escape. Xiuyang so happened to have landed at the same side of the tentacle as he had, and upon pushing through the wave of wooden shrapnel going her way, she was free to approach this chaos however she deemed best.

"This would be why the hunters are fleeing in droves, I take it," Xiuyang remarked apathetically as she swatted away the errant furniture. She spared a glance back at the ravaged tent, but seemed to assume Roslyn had Arcaan well in hand. Instead, she regarded Yamo with a side-eye as she prepared a drink from her gourd.

"Keep the fresh yanii meat in the dark, eh? Brutal." She downed the liquid, and her Manas surged as she drew into the 9 range. As she did, she moved quickly away with a kinetic leap, perhaps expecting the massive tendril to chase her signature away from Roslyn and the other two.

Roslyn's heartbeat deafened her ears for a split second. Her hands scrambled for the edge of the tent. After she found it, she tossed the cloth up and off of them. That's when she spotted the vine and turned its attention to Yamo and Xiuyang. "From madden thresher to murderous plants. At this rate, I'm gonna be a monster hunter without trying." The girl mumbled. She shoved her compass into her pocket then grabbed her smoking bandit. "Keep close and follow me."

She began to hurry away from the danger, aiming for the healthier part of the border. Something didn't feel right. Roslyn glanced over her shoulder. The yasoi didn't follow her. Instead, Arcaan stood frozen in place. She recognized the uncertainty, having been there more than once herself. Even now, her fear crawled across her skin. That instinctive realization she might not survive pricked across her surface. She shook herself from her thoughts. She had no time for this. None of them did. If the yasoi wasn't going to move on his own, she'd do it for him.

"Sorry about this, but I'm limited on time and options here."

She drew in energies from around her. With a jerk of her free hand, she cast telekinesis and lifted the yasoi off his feet. She then tossed him to safer grounds.

After the Aamii landed up a tree, the ground beneath Roslyn rumbled. She turned to the bog and her eyes widened. What the- The towering monstrous tangle of vines and rot screeched in the distance. It lashed out a hand for something and ripped itself forward. Water sprung from its path as it rolled into a rushing tide wave. Roslyn chemically buffed Arcaan. Her ring glowed hotly and she threw up an arcane spell quickly after. "Burning Aura!"

Flame sparked then circled about her. Intense heat met the swamp as the steam billowed up. Something came from the filth. A broken tree branch struck her leg. Roslyn crumbled to her knee as her spell faltered. Water swallowed her up in an instant. Once the wave dissipated, she was on all fours and coughing. "I think we found..." She uttered through gasps, "... what's been swallowing people up." The girl pushed herself onto her feet. "I'm going to get closer. Hopefully I can irritate its eyesight a bit."

Trying to hide her fear, she smiled and then activated the compass. The girl sped rapidly along the shoreline. When she got into range, she observed the beast's form for a moment. It didn't seem to have eyes. Taking a deep breath, she took aim and fired her weapon at the face side nearest the jaws. Maybe she could keep it from eating someone else. At worst, she hoped the chemical attack would at least hit and sting.

It did more than sting. After Xiuyang’s arcane lance hit, the beast stumbled forward. It began to screech only to have her goo smack into its gob. Silencing it. There was no time to cheer, however. The beast’s fist seized Yamo, causing Arcaan to plead for someone to save him, while six portals suddenly opened in various positions.

Mindful of her surroundings, Roslyn witnessed the carnage the beast brought upon everyone. Xiuyang, Niallus, Esmii and a few others suffered a rain of filth coming down upon them. Some defended easily while others failed. She smelt the stench even from a distance causing her to gag a bit. With her heart bruising her ribs, she forced down the lump in her throat. It seemed she had gone unnoticed, for now, and took her second shot. Unsure where else to hit, she fired upon the maw for a second time.

"Rifle would be useful right now." She mumbled underneath her breath. Her hand shoved into her satchel for the healing bag. She needed that last skin glue to reload.

Roslyn had her ammo in hand when she heard a howl. Her head snapped up. The beast charged at Niallus standing upon ruins, his hand sporting something red. Around the mass, water reared up and rushed at everyone. She cursed inward. Her chemical magic boosted her adrenaline causing her to move faster. Immediately, the area around her grew cold when she drew in the heat. Her knees bent as she leapt straight up into the air. Another tide wave gained on her position causing her band to glow. It zapped the water’s momentum, making it slower while speeding her up. Water brushed the soles of her shoes just before it crashed into the spot where she stood earlier.

Stabilizing herself in the air with her magic, Roslyn overlooked the aftermath. She increased the volume of her voice and relayed her thoughts to Xiuyang and Yamo. "I'm getting closer to the monster. Can you two meet me along the way? I think we can defend better if we're in groups."

Her form became hazy before she vanished. In less than a blink of an eye, she reappeared closer to the beast now. She balanced the staff of the smoking bandit in her arm while she finished reloading.

Some Times, Bigger Is Better

***

The beast looked horrid as it staggered, chunks of it heavily damaged and seemingly overwhelmed by numbers. Yet it didn’t go down.

Roslyn's heart grew frustrated at the sight. This thing's resistance reached epic levels forcing her to brace for another attack. Its jaws widened for another blood curdling screech before... BOOM! The sound of a cannon echoed in the bog as the iron ball plowed into the monster's back. It ripped into the innards before it seemed to come undone. It hunched over, holding itself up with its giant arm. Each swell of its mass, bled green and red fluids.

When Sven roared and rushed at the beast, Roslyn's eyes went wide. The familiar berserk-like energy rolled off him as he clashed with the monster. Rage rolled off his form while he managed to go toe to toe and pushed it back. She, and the others didn't waste, jumping to aid him. Finally, he delivered the final blow to misshapen mass. Where its maw was, a gaping hole stood. It sucked in all its foul substance until it disappeared into a bright light.

As a deafening sound echoed across the bog, followed by a shockwave. It plowed through the bog's ruins causing vines to burst from their hidden holes. After defending against it, Roslyn's eyes spotted Niallus. He abruptly crumbled and became still. Her feet moved before she knew it as she rushed over to him. She pulled his head above the murky water. Her eyes noticed the greenish tint in his skin as he hung limply in her arms, unresponsive. Trial and error was the only thing she could do right now. Shifting his weight, she gripped his arm. With a heavy inhale, she focused chemical magic through his system. Nothing happened. The girl moved onto binding to mend his wounds and stop the bleeding. While the gashes faded, the green tint hadn't.

"Niallus, wake up. Please... " She fought not to scream at her helplessness. Lost in her frustration, she didn't notice Sven had been impaled or the flora now growing along his skin. When he rushed forward, lashing out at Esmii, Roslyn jerked her head toward them. "Esmii!"

Sven missed his lover. A weak exhale escaped through Roslyn's lips. Again, the word 'Affen' slipped from his lips. Upon hearing that word yet again, she gritted her teeth in thought. It sounded like a word. Maybe Kerremand? If it was, she didn't know the meaning. Out of all of the languages on her growing list, why did it have to be one she hadn't learned yet? It didn't help that a strange draining sensation weighed on her.

Her eyes shifted back to Niallus. His condition didn't improve, but it didn't worsen either. She hoped it stayed that way for a bit. Using her bag to prop his head out of the water, Roslyn pushed up onto her feet as her weapon hung loosely at her side. Hesitation filled the young girl to her core upon seeing the scene.

"Get away! He's not in there right now!" Suddenly, Desmond then fired his gun into Sven.

Roslyn snapped out of her fear and rushed to Esmii's side, aiming to pull her away. "From what it looks like, he's turning into that creature. We need to figure out how to target the cause or this will continue until no one's left."

Her friend's eyes remained on Sven until Desmond's shot jerked her into the present. A spark of anger came over Esmii's eyes and she seemed about to snap, but instead relaxed.

"Rose," Esmii shouted "I have an idea. What if we targeted the flower buds that are sprouting from his wounds." She looked back at Sven, then continued "It could create an opening into his system. If you and Desmond pour internal chemical magic, to stop the roots from spreading. While you do this I could also do the same or be ready to heal him. What do you both think?"

She turned back to Sven. "Sven you better be listening to my voice. Fight this, like you have been fighting the berserk feelings. Don't let this thing win. Don't give up on us."

Roslyn's heart ached to see her friend suffer. The anger and fear trembling along Esmii's surface. Her tears streaked down the muck upon her cheeks, but there was no comfort to give her.

Roslyn didn't see the second shot until it hit Sven. The flesh tore and blood splattered away, sending their once ally stumbling to the side. Any hesitation or gentleness on the man's face vanished underneath a monstrous fury. Behind her, she heard Esmii's scream and break down.

Meanwhile, Sven charged Felix with several vines hells bent on killing the man. Roslyn tilted the Smoking Bandit to try and stop him, but Esmii ripped it out of her hand. Her friend turned it on Sven's attacker instead. The yasoi tightened her finger about the trigger and then abruptly stopped. The end lowered and then she clutched her throat. Once healthy breathing turned into wheezing.

Desmond's words hit the Hendland girl with reality. Without more knowledge or any hints, they couldn't be sure to save Sven. She took her weapon and tried to help Esmii up onto her feet. It was dangerous to stay this close to that thing. Fighting not to let her voice crack, she pleaded with her friend. "Esmii, come on. We need to move, please. He wouldn't want you hurt."

To help Esmii fight off Sven's attack, she used her gift with chemical magic. She shouted to the others. "Someone needs to grab Niallus, now!"

While struggling to reason with Esmii, Roslyn couldn't help Desmond. She watched in horror when a madden Sven started to apply sudden pressure upon her ally. Before Desmond became a bloody stain on the bog water, the Eskander clenched his head and fell forward. He withered in pain. Roslyn glanced at the incapacitated Eskandish man while Esmii went on about a plan.

Someone had to say it.

"I don't know if we can save him, Esmii. He almost killed you. The Sven we know wouldn't do that. Either way, we have to kill this thing." She paused, unable to look her friend in the eyes. She continued despite the strange growing steadiness in her voice. "You focus on yourself first. I'm going to see what I can do to keep our friends safe and help them."

By now, Laska had shown up. When greyborn turned her attention upon Sven, Roslyn felt the temperature suddenly drop. At this point, he was restrained enough for her to get close and try to purge his body of whatever it was.

Her eyes narrowed on the bright orange flowers and bark resting on the tears in Sven's skin. They had appeared shortly after he was infected. Was there a connection? If she attacked it, would it weaken the creature or just waste time? "Only one way to find out," she said to no one specific. The girl tapped into her compass and moved herself behind Sven. Careful not to get too close to him, she muttered, "Touch of Sloth. "

Trick Shot

****

When Sven turned his eyes upon her, Roslyn froze. The ragged flesh seemed to have melted back into the familiar face of her friend. Was he really still in there or...? She cursed her hopeful heart as her feet started to move, her form coming dangerously close to him. "Sven, are you really in there?" She cringed at herself. Her question sounded stupid, even to her. Then again, she knew nothing else to say. It was hard to tell if it was Laska, the little old lady's, or her own spell that had made the most impact in restraining him. Sadly, it didn't seem to affect his condition at all. While focusing on Sven, she spotted Desmond reloading a rifle. He swung it around for another shot. Roslyn's breath caught in her throat when she witnessed him pull the trigger.

The bullet never hit.

No blood or flesh smeared across her dress. Instead, a scream behind her caused her to pivot around. The hunter that helped them earlier crumbled to one knee. Someone had shot him in the back, but she didn't see the culprit. Despite Esmii's earlier aggression, she hoped her friend wasn't stupid enough to shoot someone else in the back. Especially someone that had been an ally before. Then again, Desmond's bullet didn't hit Sven either. That was the strangest part for her.

“AGGGHHHHH!” the man wailed, then uttered, “S-sniper!”

Confused and scared, she struggled with what to do. Her eyes shifted to see if she could spot the sniper that hit the man.

Where was the sniper? Roslyn's eyes tightened as she scanned the bog. She saw nothing. Deep down, she knew her panic didn't help her. The threat of a surprise attack left her shocked. For all she knew, she already spotted them, but she didn't realize it.

Sven screamed in unity with the hunter, both withering in unspeakable pain. The prior collapsed into a heap, seemingly purged of his affliction. Meanwhile, the hunter's skin charred and curled off his form. His body jerked three times before he crumbled into a still smoldering heap. No one, not even her, seemed to have helped him. As the energy died down, Roslyn stood there in stunned silence. She thought one of the others would have stepped in but... that was naïve of her. Esmii held more hostility toward him than Desmond, who shot Sven twice. Desmond seemed surprised, but he wasn't as quick as last time. Laska was too busy keeping Sven down. And her? Finding a sniper instead of healing him. A lesson learned too late like always.

Miss Wick, get out of your head. Eyes up and alert! Don't think, act. Mendenhoffer's lessons on warfare surfaced in her head. Roslyn inhaled then expanded her mana sense far as she could. She tried to locate hints based on things she knew about handling a rifle or pistol. Smoke, flash of fire, and movement. Mostly movement because position was important for a sniper.

"Can anyone make some cover?!" Roslyn spotted something small rush right for her back.

Using the Gift of Eshiran-Zept, she drew from the structure of the bullet. Next she used that mana to boost herself with Blessing of Vigor as she pivoted on one foot. It narrowly missed her. Not knowing the locations of the shooters, she considered her options. They were being picked off one by one. Then she recalled Niallus and how she discarded him like a forgotten sack of barley or hops. Roslyn cursed her stupidity as she readied a spell and started to fall back to where she left him.

She rapidly scanned the tree line on the edge of her range. She rushed through the mossy pleat, letting the water dampen her skirt and ripple behind her. Her lungs threatened to explode in her chest. Still, the girl ignored it. She continued to focus on the forest past the bog's waters. Where are you? Where are you? Her eyes fluttered back and forth like a terrified bird trapped by a cat's claws.

Suddenly, a glint of metal caught her eye.

There you are! The girl's eyes widened and her heart sank. The sniper collected massive energy for something big. If it went off, she doubted anyone could defend against it. No, NO! She had to stop that sniper now.

Roslyn changed course instinctively for the tree line. She touched her compass causing it to activate. However, instead of boosting her speed, she drew the temporal magic from it. She wasn't close enough to cripple the man internally, but... she could target something else. The gun! The sniper seemed so focused on powering his attack and nothing else mattered. Maybe not even his weapon. If she managed to break it, the attack might misfire. She had seen a fellow student nearly blow off his face when pushing their limits on an ill kept gun.

Touch of Doom. Roslyn had rarely used such destructive spells. She often feared hurting someone. However, this time she poured everything she had into it. Her heart, mana, and even prayed for it to work as she flicked her spell at the sniper's firearm.

When Roslyn got a full glimpse of the man, she recognized him. The first victim of the sniper. Her eyes hardened and she forgot how bad she felt earlier. A part of her felt even angry for not seeing the trick sooner. So she naturally smiled when she saw the damaged barrel. Her grin faded when she spotted the bullet, undamaged, escape the gun's tip. Even though it missed Sven's direction, Roslyn knew the man would correct it. All magusjaegers knew this trick, herself included, as part of their basics. Her eyes locked with the sniper's. He held it there for less than a moment before he looked away, correcting his shot's course.

Roslyn frowned at the dismissive gesture. Of course he doesn't think I'm much of a threat... No one ever does! She should've been grateful for that, but it still hurt her pride. It was depressing to be underestimated all the time.

With his ranged weapon damaged, the man levitated into the air. Roslyn dug her heels into the water, skidding to a sudden stop. Her eyes kept fixed to him before he kicked off toward Sven, a glimmer of light shone off a blade in hand. The girl regretted falling back from her friends at that moment. With the attacker's momentum, she couldn't hope to intercept him. It was a better idea to mess up his insides and give Esmii a chance to defend. Inhaling deep, Roslyn eyed the blurry streak moving past. She drew from any magnetic in the air before she pointed her hand cannon like a wand at the man. Gut Wrench!

Roslyn's eyes stared in horror as the man shrugged off their efforts. Flesh, muscle, and more came off his form to land into the swamp. Seeing his surface look a bit like raw meat curled her stomach. When the man's fist connected with Esmii's face, she practically heard the force behind the hit. She didn't know if her friend was still conscious or not after it.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Desmond still battling some sort of creature. The man held his own until another figure rose up from the swamp depths and grappled him.

That's when she felt a familiar magic. The memories of the monastery in Vossoryia flickered in her head causing her to shake a bit. There's got to be something I can do to help them both... She clenched her weapon. There was only one option she knew of. The girl subtly aimed her weapon to get as many enemies in her cross hairs as possible. Especially without the risk of hitting her allies.

It didn't escape her that both Esmii and Desmond were close enough to be used for shields, but she had a risky idea. The man wasn't the only one who knew a magusjaeger trick or two. There was only one issue... she still struggled with redirecting a shot. Even if she could protect one of them, she couldn't protect both. She tightened her grip to fire, but her hand loosened for a moment when she caught the man's words.

Her brow furrowed. What did he mean by that? She wished she had more time to think, but she couldn't make more. No one could. Her finger pulled the trigger as the end of her weapon flashed. The shot then split into three. One for Sven's earlier attacker and the other two for Desmond's attackers. Roslyn focused the shot going for Sven's, ready to redirect if needed. Only the Gods knew if she was skilled enough.

Esmii's water prison caught Roslyn's shot. The thick liquid began slow her shot down enough for the man's heat to disintegrate it. Roslyn cursed her luck and timing. However, the other two managed to land on their targets. One holding Desmond deflected it, causing the shot to explode and coat it in goo. Meanwhile, the attacker was stunned before Laska finished it off with her ice magics. It shattered into pieces before Roslyn's eyes.

Suddenly, another form erupted from the muck. Sven wide eyed and scared. He drew in energy and then bolted past them, rushing for the far treeline. Before Roslyn, or anyone else, could follow, Esmii started to float. Her form seemed to detach from the earth itself and climb higher and higher. Time ticked down to the final moments.

Never once did Roslyn consider the stakes of her actions. No, only her childish, selfish fear spurred her to save her friend from dying. She drew in the sunlight around her as her telekinesis jerked Esmii from the danger zone. Already the yasoi began to form a thin layer of ice about her for protection.

In the end, Roslyn's consequences suited a fool thinking with her heart rather than her head.

She whipped back around just in time to see the shock wave barreling at her. No time to defend or brace. A grim realization washed over her: I'm not gonna to survive this.

Her arms jerked up and shielded her head when the force collided into her. It shot the girl off her feet and ragdolled her across the bog's murky water. Her arms slammed into the water's surface over and over. Muscles became jelly with fractured bones. She screamed only to lose it in the ringing of her ears. Her right leg crashed into the roof of a ruin. It slowed her momentum when it became caught. Flesh stretched beyond its limits before bone fragments started to shred it. Her world went black from the pain.

The girl's body came to a rolling stop at the base of a tree, laying partly out of the water. Her long hair draped down her face. Blood darkened the water as it gushed from her leg. Her heart might've been unbreakable, but the rest of her wasn't.

~~~

The pain woke Roslyn up first. A sea of endless anguish and dizziness, her mind failing to recall what happened. At one point, she thought she heard her mother's surprised voice. Another pulse of searing agony burned the thought away. Not even her injuries in Vossoriya had been this bad. She inhaled and swallowed the lump in her throat. Drawing on her surroundings, she poured her gift through her body. Then she took in her condition. Her eyes lingered on her right leg almost detached fully from her hip.

"Fuck..." It was the only word right for her situation. She eyed up her smoking bandit then drew with kinetic energy. Painfully slow, the remaining sap began to trickle out and along her arm. It reached her leg where it stopped the bleeding. Next she reached her left arm over and pushed it closer, reattaching the bone.

It took a try or two, but she finally slipped it into the socket. Breathing heavily, she began to work on her left arm. She got the swelling to go down as muscles returned to their fibrous state. The bones were still angled too weirdly for her to mend them. Movement came from the side of her vision causing her to jerk her weapon up. It dropped from her grip and splashed in the water when she recognized Desmond.

"Scared the hells out of me..." She gasped out, feeling his binding mend her arm. She bit back a scream when he shifted her arm and forced herself to stay still. Afterwards, Roslyn took a moment to give him a shaky, weak show of gratitude. "Thanks."

She adjusted her attention back to her leg. Telekinesis shifted the bones back into place and binding reformed the flesh. The shaking continued, indicating she wasn't done. At first, she thought it was her left arm. She looked at it. No. Dread stopped her heart for a moment as she shifted on her hips. A new stab of pain filled her. It was her spine! With deep breaths, she focused on finding the dislocation. Again that stab dug into her back causing her to cry. Focus, focus... She urged herself then began to use her binding to slip the disc back into place and revive the tendons. Oddly enough, her other arm had also healed.

Not wasting time, she grabbed her smoking bandit and rose to her feet. She looked at her compass. It pointed toward her bag as she used kinetic energy to seize it.

Putting Evil to Rest

*****

Roslyn's eyes took in the surroundings. Her gaze followed the poisonous cloud upward as it gradually faded. The destruction made her gut curl and sink in her belly as an unwanted familiarity washed over her. In her memory, images of the aftermath in Mezegol and Vossoriya surfaced. Why couldn't she leave a place better off than when she arrived? The question forever weighed in the small brewery girl's heart. For once, she struggled to see the positive in her actions as the dust settled. She had to do better.

A distant cry caught her attention. Her eyes shifted to spot a familiar figure slicing down a sword into the ground. They couldn't waste time, but they couldn't leave any loose ends.

"I will catch up with you two later. I'm going to make sure to tie up a few loose ends." Her voice sounded exhausted and... empty of her usual hopefulness. Before anyone responded, she tightened her grip on her compass. It accelerated her quickly until she reached the Aamii's side.

That's when she saw it. Anger burned the fatigue away as she gritted her teeth. It took so much life and despite what they did, it still lived. WHY? How was that fair? Wordlessly, she drew from what residue energy still hung in the bog.

"Need help?" She asked coolly while she glared at the thing, her animosity directed at it.

Her palm extended outward as her telekinesis surrounded it. She curled her fingers into a fist, forcing the slimy thing into a compact ball around the core. Roslyn focused on her anger to keep her resolve. It wasn't easy, but she intended to finish this once and for all.

She used magnetic to empower her touch of corruption spell, focusing on its insides. With the state it was in it, Roslyn hoped it didn't have the strength to stop her. She gave a single warning. "I'm setting it on fire, be careful you don't get burnt."

Using the low level arcane spell fireball, she focused on controlling it. Temporal helped with keeping it burning steadily for several minutes. She aimed for an intense flame to burn it into ashes. Once all signs of life disappeared, she used the Gift of Eshiran-Zept to ensure nothing remained. However, she didn't let go of her telekinesis until she knew it was gone.

It was the skull of Ahn-Eshiran. You will know it well by the whispers it utters when you lean in close. They say its protectors gradually lose the soundness of their minds the longer they keep it. If this rumor is true, it is a burden I will bear alone. I fear what might happen if anyone of ill-will held it. The knowledge they would have. The hurt they would do. I swore it would not happen on my watch.

The small Hendland girl pulled back her head. It turned out her mother was right all along. With a deep breath, Roslyn carefully stowed the skull away in her bag. Above everything she ensured to secure it tightly within. She'd discover answers later, but not here. Her eyes looked up over the drained bog to see some of the treasures within. So easily it would be greedy, but likely a price would be paid later. Immediately, the signature shining near the ruined stature caught her attention. It wasn't the same as the bog monster, but something was there. The others could handle Sven, she thought and cautiously made her way over to investigate it.

No Rest for the Wicked

******

Upon spotting Niallus and Laska enter back into reality, Roslyn exhaled. She waved back to Niallus. She had started to get paranoid as everyone seemed to have went their own way. "Glad to see you two are okay. And Niallus, you're up and about." She frowned and concern flooded her expression at the Eskander's greenish pallor. "I was a little... worried. You don't look so good."

In the back of her mind, Roslyn questioned if she should mention the skull or not. Her familiar self doubt began to crawl into her thoughts. What if she told the wrong people? What if they stole it from her? Was she really a good judge of character? Her gaze shifted downward for a moment and a few things bugged her. Who could she really trust, if she couldn't tell a good person from a bad one?

Roslyn pulled in a hair closer and remained quiet, studying him. A dread curled into her heart and dragged it down into her stomach. She couldn't place the reason for it. She decided she was overthinking and pushed through it. At least he's up and about. Hopefully the green will eventually fade. She smiled at that positive thought.

"Thanks Roslyn. It looks a lot worse then how it feels." Niallus stated. "So what happened? Where are the others?"

She gave herself a brief look over. Tears, missing sleeve, filth and even her own blood covered her dress. It reflected her overall experience so far here. "Where to start? Well, after the explosion we managed to work together and heal each other. Thankfully, no one lost limbs or anything. After that..." Roslyn took a breath and ran through everything still on her mind.

"Ingrid is still missing. We need to find her and hopefully she's all right. I'm so confused why Xiuyang did that. It doesn't fit what I know of her. " She moved on to the rest, "Esmii went after Sven. Desmond... I'm not fully sure where he is. I stayed here to destroy that... thing. I used everything I had and I hope it is gone for good."

Her eyes glanced about the swamp as if expecting more nasty surprises. "I was about to investigate something over by the statue before you two appeared. I'm not sure I can stand any more surprises."

Roslyn had made her way over to the statue as they talked. She had just managed to grab one of the layered toxic darbonite and a strange stone before Laska took off. It was the same direction as Esmii went earlier. She shot Niallus, who had picked up a broken sword, a look and then she bolted after the woman. Her tired feet sprinted across the ground, jumping over any debris in her way. She reached into her bag and scrambled around for more ammo. Finally, she found a snowpepper sniffing powder. She shoved it into the smoking bandit's muzzle. Seeing Laska leave her in the dust, Roslyn used her compass to hasten her speed.

Why did I let her go alone? She cursed herself for her idiocy. Reaching the far edge of the fight, she saw Laska sliced into Sven's chest. Before she could ask what happened, her eyes lowered and spotted Esmii laying on the ground.

"Sven doesn't have that kind of healing." Niallus' statement drew a worried look from Roslyn.

"Watch out!" Laska called while freezing the demon, "He's no normal demon. He's one of the three lieutenants."

Instead of replying to anyone, Roslyn drew in sunlight. It flickered and faded about her. When she felt the heat flood her skin, she focused on the ground just behind Esmii. She imagined the dirt underneath to be a 'platform' of sorts. Just when 'Sven' finished his insult and slashed down, Roslyn rushed to the right while she jerked her hand up. A chunk of the earth that he stood on tried to fling him backwards on his ass.

She hoped it would topple the demon's balance and make him miss. That was a stupid idea in the end as the earth didn't even budge. Angry at herself for wasting time, she tilted up her smoking cannon at its head in hopes to loosen the armor on it. Another bad idea as it didn't flinch and instead lashed out a wild slash. Strengthening her skin and boosting her reflexes, Roslyn rushed to the side. It edged closer and closer until... her ring glowed giving her just enough to escape.

She snapped her fingers as Desmond shot at the blubbery mass' right arm while Laska tried to freeze it in place. At first, their attacks seemed to fail. However, a transparent butterfly floated into the bloodgorger's eyes, distracting him. Her ally's bullet hit true causing the arm to explode. The massive monster stepped back. Niallus communed with the void as it tried to fill him with power. For most of the fight, Roslyn combo defended her teammates and used her hand cannon. One by one the monster's limbs were dismembered until...

"Niallus, move!" Roslyn screamed. She watched Niallus bisected nearly in half. His body dropped while she moved to heal him. It wasn’t needed. Right before her eyes, she watched his form knit itself back together. It used Bloodgorger's own flesh and blood causing her to stop in place. WHAT the Hells?!?

She couldn't help but wonder what he ate for this to happen. Pushing the questions out of her mind, Roslyn raised her smoking bandit and fired the last shot. It took out the left leg easily and staggered the beast.

"Why won't this thing die already?" Roslyn asked, feeling the strain on her body from battle after battle.
Suddenly...

A voice, meek and desperate, cried out from the belly. A familiar lisp in the words. Sven? Roslyn's eyes stared in disbelief over the possibility. Then again, she had seen her friends survive a lot and prove their endurance to overcome it all.

Niallus' left arm grew to inhuman size as he rushed in for the gut, ripping it open. A river of blood poured out into the muck as the man continued to dig the victim out. The voice kept pleading for help.

Roslyn breathed heavily. Somehow she managed to remain up on her feet, her endurance pushed beyond her body's small limits. She had been lucky during the fight. The creature focused on her allies more than her as she managed to both defend and help finish it off. That's when she heard Laska shout for him to stop.

It was too late. Roslyn spotted the cheeky little demon up in the tree, taunting them now. The voice matching the one from inside the Bloodgorger.

What's going on... why-Then she recalled the words spoken earlier. It wasn't a normal demon. Roslyn knew nothing about demons save for what little she heard from the church. She glanced between Niallus, the thing oozing out of the belly and the creature leering down upon them. "Now what?"

Bow to Hellish Royalty

*******

A bad feeling swelled in her breast as she watched the blood covered figure topple out onto the ground. Heavy energies seemed to saturate the air and weigh her down. It charged the skeleton remains of the bog with energy. Blood began to peel and float off the dark, leathery sac. Beneath it, the ground glowed with a circle of runes. Likely hidden there all along.

The man held Sven, but none of his kindness shined in the eyes. Just a cold, emotionless and calculated gaze.

What did we ourselves into? Roslyn couldn't stop trembling as she stood there, helpless. She spied Laska's reaction from the corner of her vision. Fear drenched her expression as the nun stepped back and struggled to speak."Y-you...You're..."

"Belthagor." He finished for her. His voice mimicked the sound of divinity while he seemed to weigh their worth. At the sound of his minion, the being tilted his head and smiled. They exchanged a warm greeting that felt out of place here before his hard expression returned. He raised a finger.

When the pressure came, Roslyn fell to her knees and then her hands. Her lungs inhaled, but she couldn't breathe. Oh no... She didn't understand what was happening.

When did she get tangled up in all of this? She was no epic heroine of a fairy tale. She wasn't even that strong compared to many of her classmates. She was just a simple brewery girl born in a little country. Now... she was going to die like an insect beneath hells' boot. The realization of her fate curled her stomach and pushed up vomit into the back of her throat. It burned there, daring not to go farther. The only hope in her heart was that this would be quick.

An Unexpected Choice

********

Roslyn wanted her death to be over with already. She kept her eyes closed, childishly hoping it might protect her from the world around her. Not that there was much left of it. Any moment, she expected to feel the pressure finally crush her.

Then, all at once, the blinding light intensified. "I can see the fear in you, girl," came the Grand Demon's voice, dripping with sepulchral resonance, deep and cold and rich. "And the desire." The Demon king stood before the six youths in his brilliant white clothing and he was beautiful. "You want so very much from this world, yet dare not speak it. You fear even to love yourself."

His words wormed themselves in her ears, through Roslyn's head, and dug deep in her soul. She sensed more than heard his steps edge closer and felt his eyes upon her. He's not talking to me... Who was it? Roslyn forced her eyes to open. With a bit of struggle, her head lifted upward to see and hope they were strong enough to resist.

He reached out a hand in the direction of one in particular, but it was not Esmii, who was closest to him after Niallus. "You worry, you sacrifice, you work... and for so very little gain." The light built until it consumed her. "I choose you, and I shall lift you up to be more than you might've been."

Belthagor's eyes stared right at her. Roslyn wasn't sure if she should be surprised or frightened that he noticed her. The words dug up her doubts, fears, and pain. She realized not a single one dripped with lies. She didn't value herself much as a mage, especially when she compared herself to her friends. Always falling just short of everything. All of them had strengths she could only dream of matching, but she'd never reach. So many short comings and so few wins. Lately, all Roslyn did was worry, sacrifice, and work... and for what? She realized she had lost sight of the reason.

Too distracted by one of the Kings of hell, she had her back to Laska and Desmond. All at once, the immense pressure disappeared and Laska stood. The nun flung an iron in to the air. "Shoot it, Desmond! Shoot it with anything that warps reality!"

The girl gradually got to her feet before the Grand Demon. Her eyes couldn't tear away from the light even as it burned them. She took a step forward and then another. A moth drawn to a flame in the night.

Is this what I want? What I need? She questioned herself. Something glowed in her pocket as a small, greedy voice hissed 'yes'. Her feet continued to move as the conflict grew inside of her.

The Grand Demon's head twisted to regard the nun and the others. His lips peeled back in a snarl, revealing fangs and, for a moment, great gnarled black horns twisted out of his forehead. His inner ugliness laid bare, he glared venomously at the Red Rezaindian before his face returned to normal. Roslyn, lost in a trance, reached out a hand to touch the glowing point when his last words cut through her haze.

"The rest of you," he announced, "will feed my pet."

No.... NO! Her pupils dilated and her mind pushed back. Please, no. I can't let this happen. She tried to fight the influences tugging at her soul, but was she strong enough? By Ahn-Dami's will, this should be her choice!

---

Other Scenes

Mahal's Animal Taming Lessons

Seeking the Legend of Snow and Ice

Location: Unviat
Date: Unknown

Following the Blood Trail

Even the early Rezain in Unviat was cold. A blustering wind whipped across the nearly treeless tundra, batting Mahal's hair about like tangled snakes. She'd been following signs of a Snow Wyvern: droppings, heightened radiation, a couple feathers, and disturbed snow on the branches of the few sparse trees. Then, suddenly, she'd found blood. It was mostly dried and covered, but it stained patches of snow dark. She found some, and then more and then... well, there was a trail if she could follow it. There was definitely a hint of the tiny dragon's characteristic radiation, but was it even alive?

Mahal hated the cold. She had bundled several layers just to keep it out, but it didn't seem to matter. The frost settled on her surface and the chill bit at her flesh still. With with a deep breath, she leaned down to check the trail. She frowned upon seeing the blood and noted its age. A part of her wondered if it was alive still. Cautiously she cast sonic negation to null the sounds of her footsteps as she followed the trail. If this Wyvern had been attacked, she didn't want to draw the attention of its predator.

The blood was old, and then it was newer and then the last bit was still steaming in the snow. The wind had died down. There was a small copse of southern spruce hunkering together in the cold, a large rocky ridge with some stray bounders, and a stream burbling down towards a small pristine lake. Surely,the creature was close. Either it was food for something else here, or else it was wounded and hiding. Likely, it would die if not found and healed.

Grisly Sight

She came upon it in the clearing: the bones of a small wyvern. They were fresh and there was still meat on them. Bloody white feathers surrounded the mostly-cleaned off carcass as an Arctic Fox scampered away with a mouthful of meat. This, then, was the Snow Wyvern she had been following: dead beyond a shadow of a doubt. There were tracks all around it: foxes, dragons, a wolverine. A large crow hovered about, cawing in pitch black on the white snow. Blood trails led away in four different directions: Southeast, West, Northeast, and North.

Apparition

Mahal was close to giving up. The trail seemed to have gone cold. The dragon she'd been pursuing was dead, after all. Then, through the gusting snow and the steam of a small hot spring, she sighted it, perched on a rock, its feathers iridescent as it preened itself: a Snow Wyvern.

The small creature was almost luminous. Its feathers giving off a different coloured sheen depending on the angle that it was viewed from. The wind faded and, with it, the sound that had been covering Mahal's footsteps. The Wyvern looked up abruptly, its delicate draconic visage meeting hers. There was blood on its snout and its crystalline horns, but it had carried away no meat and was not eating. That was when she remembered it: young snow wyverns, once they'd come of age, would mercy kill struggling elders rather than letting them fall prey to some other beast.

The quasi-mythical animal spread its wings, spooked but not aggressive. Perhaps it had been grieving, in its own way. It prepared to take flight.

Encounter

The sight of the creature left the girl in awe. To her eyes, the Snow Wyvern seemed almost made of living ice and cold.

She avoided eye contact and made herself appear as nonthreatening as possible. The wyvern flapped its wings twice but did not take off. Instead, it eyed her warily. She could feel a rise in the latent atomic reactions within it. Its tongue flicked out and licked the blood off of its muzzle. It tilted its head and blinked.

Mahal gave an inner sigh of relief. For now, she had stopped it from flying off but it wasn't a solution. She caught glimpses of the creature's eyes as it gleamed with intelligence matching Diyablos. There was a clear difference, however. She knew her cephalopod better and the easiest way to gain his intention was curiosity. Would the same work here? A small doubt lingered in her mind, but doing nothing was worse. Slowly, she reached into her bag and pulled out some dried jerk meat. Her eyes watched the snow wyvern's reaction carefully.

The dragon glanced at the meat, glanced at Mahal, and tilted its head, unimpressed. After a moment, she could've sworn that it rolled its eyes and sighed.

"Never said it was for you." Mahal stated then bit into the dried meat.

The animal rushed forward at that - the perfect taunt - and let out a chitter. It hopped around, circling her and tilting its head. It looked at the jerky and then at her. Its tongue darted out.

Mahal tensed, but refused to move. She had been ready to draw until she recognized its little display. This time, it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "If you want some, simply need to ask. I am willing to share." With that said, she was already reaching in for another jerky and offered it up. Perk of a glutton was to always have plenty of food on hand.

The Snow Wyvern opened its mouth and appeared to motion with its wing for Mahal to throw the treat over. Its little tongue shot out again in anticipation.

"All right. Don't miss." Mahal said as she tossed it. Her eyes narrowed a bit, noting how it seemed to understand her better than she expected. But maybe, she was being silly. Animals don't understand human speech... right?

Then, just like that, there was a voice. "She's a trickster." A local man in a parka appeared over the ridge, his Avincian strongly accented but surprisingly good.

"Sikuaq," he said to the wyvern, but the rest of his words were in a language that Mahal did not know. "She is young and lost her hatchmates and parents. A few weeks ago, Alooloo, who raised her, went into a blizzard and never came back." He shook his head. "I don't know why, but now she is alone in the world and thinks that she's a person." The man shook his head.

"I am Anik. A trader, but I live around here when I'm not traveling." The wyvern, Sikuaq, fluttered over to his side, but not too close, proudly displaying her prize.

Mahal's eyes snapped to the source of the voice. She hadn't even heard his approach and that put her on edge. Intently, the girl listened to the man. Her gaze shifted from him to the wyvern as her eyes softened. She knew that feeling well some times. "Mahal." She didn't give much more about herself as she remained wary of the man.

"She has something in common with another companion of mine, Diyablos. Gets into all sorts of trouble. He tends to pout too by crossing his little arms because he saw me do it once."

She adjusted her furs against the cold. "That explains a few things now. I was following an old Snow Wyvern trail earlier and found the body. I wasn't sure if it was attacked or not. Then I found her." Mahal gestured to Sikuaq.

"She could use a family," Anik suggested, "But she's a handful. I've been feeding her lately, but I travel and I can't keep her forever." He motioned Mahal over. "Slowly," he warned, taking some sort of dried meat from his pack. "It's similar to your jerky. That's probably why she took to you."

With a deep inhale, Mahal did as instruction. She kept the none threatening posture best she could while she leaned in and drank in his words. "It's the best way to preserve the meat and I always keep some on me. Though bones work, time to time, to trick the constant hunger."

Her eyes admired the creature's icy beauty. "I have some experience in caring for creatures, especially those without families. Diyablos came from a clutch of abandoned eggs. His brothers and sisters all have new homes, with owners I believe cherish them." A part of her wasn't sure why she decided to share this information, but it left her lips before she thought about it. She couldn't take it back now. "However, a creature like her will only go if she wants to."

"You are not wrong," Anik agreed. He handed her some meat, as Sikuaq looked on curiously. He spoke to the young wyvern and she glanced between the two of them. "See if she will follow you." He began to back away. Which way would Sikuaq go?

Mahal agreed with this. She rose to her feet and started to walk the opposite way. Her arm held the jerky in plain sight while she held her breath. At first, the wyvern hesitated. It let out a low, confused cooing. The creature bobbed between Mahal and Anik with indecisiveness. After a little while, the young wyvern seemed to understand. She bounded across the snow towards Mahal and took the meat from her hand.

"I think that settles it. " Mahal said placing her hand for the Wyvern to accept a gentle stroke.

Anik agreed as the pair departed from the frigid cold back to Ersand'Enise.

---

OOC: This is messy as heck and apologies for that, I did my best to keep it in Roslyn's pov. I also smoothed out issues and stuff, with changes that better fit.

The Hourglass Order

Mahal

Shipwreck Scavengers

Shipwreck Scavengers

_{Location: Shipwreck Bay, Ersand'Enise
Date: 29th of Velles}

---

Mahal's eyes glanced down the shore for odd colors among the dirty sands. Her bare feet navigated over the scattered debris washed up along the strip of white. Leaving footprints in her wake, she felt Diyablos tighten his grip on her waist. His main body hung from her hip and bounced with each step. It reminded her of his recent growth spurt. It was hard to believe how small he was when he and his siblings first hatched.

Ahead of her, Puno and Supok lunged at a small flock of birds. The avians scattered into the air causing Mahal to bring her fingers up to her lips. She gave a loud whistle. The pups stopped in their tracks and raised their ears, heads looking toward her. Mahal gave her thigh a sound smack to call them back. With panting tongues, they rushed back to her before eagerly hopping up then down. She tossed a chunk of dried meat to each.

To Mahal's surprise, a third dog approached her: a Dragonhound. It trotted up beside her, big and bold and not afraid of the other dogs. It wagged its tail intermittently, curious about Mahal, her jerky, and the octopus. Not quite wary, but not quite trusting, it kept a playful distance.

When the new dog appeared, Mahal stopped in her tracks. She eyed the newcomer warily. Was it a stray or someone's pet? Her hand reached into her pouch and pulled out another jerky chunk. When Diyablos noticed the canine, his tentacles scaled up her side and onto her shoulder.

Meanwhile, both her puppies turned their eyes upon the newcomer. Puno's lips curled back and flashed her teeth with a defensive growl. Her frame pulled back against the girl's calf while her eyes stayed on the invader of her space. Supok, however, woofed for attention. Her front half dropped into a bow and showed off her lopsided grin. Another bark erupted from her chest before she pulled into a run and brushed past the Dragonhound's side. She circled about to see if the chase was on with a tail wag.

When Mahal grabbed another jerky, the dog sat and licked its chops, ready to spring when she threw it. It was a trained dog, alright. It paid the other two dogs only short glances of acknowledgement as they created commotion around him. Then, suddenly, his ears turned toward the water, and he let out a short, grunting woof. There was a light in the water, briefly, until it abruptly vanished.

A figure emerged from the water, and the dog took off to meet her. She—and it was definitely a she—was dressed in an all black, form-fitting bodysuit, and wearing a mask over the lower half of her face. The suit and mask combo reminded Mahal of the talent show, and the girl with the escape artistry act.

Mahal continued to study the dog's behavior. It was definitely not a stray causing her eyes to cast around for the owner's whereabouts, but she saw no one. She gave a low whistle that started low, then shot up before falling back down. Supok froze up then shot looks at her potential playmate and then her master. With a yip, she darted back to Mahal's side instantly. A subtle heat radiated off her flank as she glanced up for an affectionate pet. Idly, the girl lowered her free hand and scratched at the firehound's ear. A long, satisfied grunt escaped her muzzle.

Before the girl could snap the jerky into two and toss half of it at the hound, its posture changed. Her eyes followed its gaze toward the water. A feminine form emerged causing Mahal to stare for a moment. With a deep inhale, she averted her eyes while the woman continued to walk out. Appreciating hints of beauty was one thing, but gawking like a fool was another. "I guess you're owner of the dog?"

Slowly, the figure approached. Her gait was unfamiliar on the unstable sand, but soon enough it became clear who the figure was. She didn't just remind Mahal of the escape artist: it was her!

"̶͒͝Ĩ̵͘ ̷̎̄d̴͗͛ì̷̈́d̶̈́̑n̴͠'̫̒t̶̂͗ ̴̖̑e̷̚ͅx̷̀̆p̴͘͘è̸ct anÿ́one ê̄l̸̅̂s̵e to c̷͂͛o̷̔̃m̶͆̃ḝ̶ ̴̓here."

A garbled voice came from the waterlogged mask. Quickly, she removed it.

"Whoops. I forgot the voice modulator is broken." Xiuyang cracked a cheeky smile. "I didn't think anyone would come here this late. I like to look for critters and things in the shipwrecks. He's standing guard for me. Aren't you?" She regarded the dog with a coo. It lowered its front legs playfully, tail wagging. "Yesh you are." She ruffled his fur, and he responded by shaking off all the water, prompting Xiuyang to giggle. It was the most playful Mahal had ever seen the merchant, who was usually quite serious, even if she pretended otherwise.

Upon hearing the odd speech, Mahal's eyes shifted back. Her frown deepened until the woman pulled off her mask and spoke again. By now, Diyablos had scrambled onto her shoulder and settled in. His attention drifted to her long strands of black hair as he twisted his tentacles into them. She gently discouraged it with a touch of her hand. Actually hearing the voice confirmed her suspicions. She recalled the escape artist had purchased a cephalopod but she didn't see it anywhere. Supok gave a needy whine when she spotted the playfulness of the other canine. Puno remained dismissive as she huffed, not willing to leave Mahal's side. "He is well trained. I've been meaning to contact you to see how your ground octopus was adjusting." She snapped the jerky into three pieces before tossing one to Supok, one to Puno, and finally to Xiuyang for hers. "He was licking his jaws over it earlier."

Xiuyang lowered herself, hands on her knees as she looked down at the dog. "Have you been accepting jerky from strangers?" she interrogated her dog playfully. He replied with an indignant whine-grunt noise. Xiuyang grinned and fed him the jerky, resulting in many tail wags.

"Training a dog is nice and easy. Hui's in the water. I think she likes the tide. Gets antsy in her still tank water and pesters me to play in the middle of the night by blowing bubbles." She grabbed a bunch of her hair and tugged a bit to emphasize her frustration.

Supok greedily swallowed the chunk down while Puno worked diligently on hers. At the mention of the name Hui, her eyes darted over to the shoreline. The odds of her finding the white cephalopod was slim, but not impossible. Her other hand continued to rub Supok's ear. A low, happy whine erupted from her muzzle. The canine pressed harder into Mahal's calf forcing the girl to tilt her balance accordingly. "It's only easy if you know what you're doing. Supok needs more discipline and Puno still has her moments." Mahal stated as she continued to watch the girl and her hound.

Diyablos had started to slide down then stretched out his tentacles toward Xiuyang. "Ground octopi tend to be more active at night because the air is cooler. However, they are adaptable. I suggest getting her a toy for night time. Diyablos' favorite is a small, odd shaped bottle I put dried fish in." She took a breath than added, "I can design one for you if you wish."

"Hohoh? Trying to sell me something?" Xiuyang challenged playfully. "You know, I just might go for it. I moved back into the dorms hoping I'd spend less time commuting and more time sleeping, but in true Solari fashion, I've only used that time to get busier." She sighed. The dragonhound perched his chin on her knee, whining at his master's drop in enthusiasm. She ruffled his ears reassuringly.

There was, indeed, a white blob camouflaged amongst the sea foam, pale skin reflecting the remnants of evening's twilight. She clung to the seaweed as the waves rocked her to and fro, for the tide was low and starting to come in. "After all that pestering to take her with me, I'll bet she's sleeping," Xiuyang remarked as she also caught sight of her.

Mahal inhaled and then frowned at the accusation. Her arms crossed over her chest and she tilted her hips against Supok's pressure. Diyablos, seeing no engagement to his wiggling arms, started to trail down her leg. "No, but I suppose it sounds like it. Diyablos has worn a few of his toys down from playing with them so much."

Noticing the octopi had started to crawl down her calf, Mahal tsked. She shifted her balance as her leg lifted up and she snatched up the small cephalopod. His tentacles tried to pull himself out of her grasp. With a small sigh, the girl pulled close to the water's edge then lowered him down. In a blink of an eye, he darted underneath the water toward the small white blob. "I know Diyablos is also a handful when he doesn't get what he wants. I think he's a bit spoiled like Lunara."

"Hah. The lengths us responsible sisters will go to, huh?" Xiuyang remarked unconvincingly, as she wondered if she really was the reliable sister between herself and Desi. "I'm looking into something for her, actually. Mind if we walk and talk?" Xiuyang began pacing in the direction of the two octopi, her dragonhound following faithfully and amusing himself by jumping over the waves.

Hui lifted an eyelid as Diyablos approached. She let go of the seaweed, letting the tide drag her out as her brother got close. She let him chase her, engaging in a kind of dance. "Do you know anything about Raffaella? The one with the pink hair. Isn't it weird?" she added, as if she'd just now thought about it.

Mahal listened, her eyes surveying the beach. She caught sight of a large, half buried log in the sands. Her arm stretched out toward it as she spoke. "Let's take a seat over there. It will make it easier for the octopi to find us when they are done playing."

She started to move, mindful if the woman followed her or not. Her hounds kept close even when Supok attempted to nip at Puno. The smaller hound gave a warning growl and snorted in the firehound's direction. Upon hearing mention of Raffie, Mahal was quiet for a moment. Her hand rubbed her neck as she spoke. "Truthfully, I'm not sure what to think of her. At first, I thought she was a child that refused to grow up. Now, I'm not so confident about that."

Watching the octopi skirt along the shallows, she then added. "Why do you ask? Has she offended you or something?"

"She's definitely putting on a show. I just don't know what her aim is," Xiuyang replied as she followed Mahal. "Well, she insulted Ciro, but that's not really the point. My sister Desi was curious about her, but she's been told by her husband not to ask, which is really out of character for him. Apparently there's some controversy in Virang that didn't quite follow her here to Ersand'Enise. I wondered if you knew what it was—if there's anything more to it than baseless rumors."

Mahal thought back to Kiluaho. A part of her wondered why Ren believed the students were lying. Being with him the whole time, she knew he didn't step foot onto the wreck though there was a confrontation on the beach. She didn't know until it was revealed. A part of her suspected Raffaella had informed him for his favor. "I can't say I do. Palapar is mainly a colony of Virang, not directly tied to it. However, Lunara’s mother is part of the noble circle and I could possibly root up something. What that is, I'm not sure."

"I'd appreciate it," Xiuyang replied, seemingly a little disappointed. "A Solari not being able to dig up anything is unheard of. Never mind two. ...It's just not right," she added after a pause.

Mahal's gaze lingered on her companion a bit. Most of Raffaella and her interaction seemed to side on shallow rather than meaningful. Not a surprise since she rarely let others in. Her attention turned back to the sea as she leaned back. Diyablos had managed to reach the albino, flicking out a tentacle tip and then darting away. Daring her to chase him. "It is odd, but dwelling on it will only cause stress. If I find anything out, you will be the first to know. " Taking a breath, she continued. "There's one positive thing. Hui seems to be more active." She pointed out to the water.

"There's too much political uncertainty. Letting things slide is something I can't do anymore," Xiuyang replied, giving her dragonhound another round of headpats. "I have so many companions now. I wish I had more time for them," she said as she looked off into the water, watching Hui follow the current with her brother. Xiuyang appeared conflicted, like she really had to go, but was stalling for Hui's sake.

Mahal let movement outside her peripheral distract her. She tilted back to spot Supok stroll closer. The fire hound's tongue hung out at the side before she flopped down, her form lounging in the hot sand. She then laid her larger head onto Puno's smaller frame before she gave a shrill yawn. They were cute when they were exhausted.

Her eyes shifted back to the water as she spoke. "Sadly, we can't barter for more time. Instead, I was told a bit of wisdom once. Spending what little time I have on what I value most or my regrets will weigh me down when I stand for judgment before the Gods. " She let the words settle for a moment. "I don't understand what he means by it. One thing I do know is if something or someone matters to me, I will find the time. Even if there's consequences for it later. If I don't, what's the point of it all?"

Xiuyang seemed to fall into silence. Though she mentioned earlier her need to go, she stayed and seemed to reflect on something. Mahal thought maybe her words stirred something, but she didn't dare break the spell. Instead, they sat there as the midday sun gradually made its trip across the skies. Their eyes watched the two cephalopods bob in the waters and among the debris. Their minds blissfully oblivious of the world around them.

The Hourglass Order

Epilogue of White Thresher

A Stab in the Back?

The White Thresher was slain. It had happened mere moments earlier, but it was an undeniable, if fresh, fact. Leon had put that beyond the veil of doubt.

Now came the race for its riches, coupled with the fear of the encroaching foam and perhaps even each other. If none of the students had outright attempted murder, they had brazenly worked against each other more than once and their games of brinksmanship had consistently flirted with disaster.

Now, as a sickly steaming fog boiled over the area, Zarina found herself checking those closest to her and most vulnerable to see if there had, indeed, been many casualties. Roslyn found herself once again in the hot seat aboard the Salty Swallow, and Ciro had taken a recess from the celebrations of his crew to scan the area for dangers and opportunities, his brow intensely furrowed. Yet, for Penelope Pellerin, princess of Perrence, there was only the former.

The Fortis Orritis had eaten a battering from the pack ice and was both taking on water and listing to starboard, its binders - including her - in a desperate struggle to save it from foundering. That, to put matters simply, was all that was needed for a vile and dastardly act of sabotage and assassination.

Roslyn's eyes widened at the aftermath. The energy rippled through the water, breaking ice and shoving away nearby ships. Her fingers gripped the railing to keep her balance. However, her expression fell into sorrow and dread. A dense fog rose around the ships as the ice melted from the heat. "I thought there was a plan... " Roslyn's words broke the silence.

"I guess your 'friends' had other ideas." Diggory replied as his eyes glanced about nervously. He twisted away and then barked fresh orders to the crew. They were already hauling themselves across the deck and raising the sails. "We're getting out of here now." He looked over his shoulder at Roslyn while walking. "You're welcome to come with us or get off the ship and face the consequences."

"Wait? What do you mean? " She pulled away from the railing and followed him.

"By the gods, you're a bit of a git. You had us tether a ship full of Virangish and Eskandish to the thresher. It will be seen as an act of war. I find it amusing that they couldn't handle just the tip." He said with a playful smile, his head twisting forward again. "Enth will be expected to pay for the damages and more. Of course his Majesty won't." The man watched her put the pieces together.

Roslyn's face paled. "What...You- I didn't mean for this to spark a war."

"No one ever does, but it was going to happen. The high and mighty are always eager to swing their knobs about. No matter how innocent you claim it was, I doubt anyone will care or believe it. " Diggory shrugged as he stopped and leaned over some anchored lines. His hands began to loosen them.

"I-I'll tell them the truth. That I was just trying to help. My friends will believe me."

He paused and laughed at her. "I doubt that. Based on my experience, the powerful will let the weak drown if it makes them look better. If you tell them this was your idea, you're likely to be arrested and your family's reputation soured. A little bird like you will not survive prison for very long." He continued to argue.

Pandemonium. A failure of leadership. A plan gone to waste.

A Revidian victory.

Up in the sky stood the wildblood, as if the air was made material to the flat soles of Zarina footwear, overlooking the aftermath of the mighty creature's obliteration. And soon the evidence of a vicious and foreboding plot went with it. With a clenched jaw and arms crossed uncomfortably tightly, the Virangish dragon assessed the situation the best she could in a state where she wanted nothing more than to belittle those that did not share her vision.

Casualties and collateral damage were still accruing. The job wasn't quite finished yet, with many vultures already seeking to pick the carcass clean of any valuables. For a brief time, this supposed victory was likely to become more chaos than fanfare. And you know what they say about chaos - it is a ladder.

With one big victory under their belt, what else could the twisted partisan conflict try to greedily rake into their clutches?

There was one person, one far too important to ignore. One stuck with a damaged boat. Golden, partially reptilian hues turned to Fortis Orritis. It was a ripe moment to make a play. A moment she would seize herself, had she plotted against an exalted figure in the current political landscape. She was not going to let these ghoulish plotters get a second, easier win today.

It was sudden and jarring and Penny staggered back and fell on her rear, clutching her stomach and shielding the babies from the worst of the impact. The White Thresher was dead, but something had bumped the ship: something large, maybe a scavenger already here to feed on the carcass.

That was of lesser concern at the moment. They had just turned the corner. They had just gotten the majority of the holes patched and there was no more water coming out of the ship than going into it. There was a second bump, just as Penny was trying to stand again, and she cursed having one leg! She cursed her balance and the sway of the ship, but then came the water, gushing inwards, and she scooted back frantically, binding up walls around the hole and hanging on for dear life.

Roslyn gritted her teeth with new frustration. Diggory just smiled at her with equal parts mocking and amusement. Out of her sight, three pirates discreetly broke from their comrades. They moved with purpose to different positions. Two took up rifles and dropped to one knee near the ship’s rear. They raised their muzzles as the Fortis Orritis came into range. Meanwhile, the third man settled in beside the railing and subtly drew in kinetic energy from the waters. He pulled off his shades showing his dark and porous eyes. His lips curled into a grin and he took aim at the princess.

When the temperature dropped, Roslyn's eyes widened. She turned toward the powergazer and began to draw herself. Before she could cast any magic, the butt of Diggory's pistol whipped into her head. She crumbled to all fours. Stars floated in her vision as she tried to push back up, but her body became heavy. Like something massive was holding her down. Something warm and wet trickle down her neck. It was blood. Her blood.

Diggory stood over Roslyn and casually readjusted his pistol. "You should know, a magic school isn't the only place you can learn magic from. It's a pity. I was just starting to like ya."

"Word of advice, don't count your puffchickens before they hatched." She flipped over onto her back and sent a flare of arcane magic into the sky. It burst into a brief show of light before fading. Please someone see it. Please! Roslyn prayed as her lungs started to struggle with the pressure.

Within the myriad of energies and potential sources that'd cause the ship to rock abnormally, Zarina wouldn't have immediately guessed that the Enthish ship would have any part in it. And yet, her twisted, amber eyes were made to follow a show of light originating from that innocuous, supposedly "neutral" vessel.

A quick look and a brief draw with her unusually massive mana capacity had the draconic scout quickly assess the discrepancies within the ship. Most notably that one Hendlish girl she had gone out of her way to help.

In the blink of an eye, Zarina was no longer up above but by the railing opposite of where Roslyn had been gazing from. Her unforeseen appearance on the vessel caused it to rock slightly as if she was much heavier than she really was, potentially disrupting any assault demanding precision - it was on purpose.

“What are you doing to her?” inquired a cold and husky voice, one originating from a woman that almost looked demonic with her budding, goat-like horns, warped eyes and visible black scales on her hands and cheeks.

“What are you all doing here?” she asked again with a demanding and, quite frankly, bitchy voice. Heavy steps were taken, bridging the gap between herself and Diggory as she awaited an answer.

If Zarina had been cued in by Roslyn and arrived with a flourish, she had not been quick enough to prevent them from getting their shots off. Two bullets exploded from the rifles of the snipers and, that very moment it was money in the bank - well, their accounts, anyhow. The powergazer's twin beams leapt forth and scythed across the deck of the Fortis Orritis but, crucially, he'd been sent off-balance, and his deadly shots missed the Perrench princess by a handful of inches, chasing her across the deck but alerting her first.

One of the bullets, she stopped in midair. The other plowed harmlessly into a sail and continued somewhere off into the grey-blue sky until, at some point, it would exhaust its energy and arc down into the water below. The beams caught up to the one-legged woman before long, but she had enough raw capacity to absorb the worst of them and then - just like that - they were done and Penny rose to her foot, more or less unharmed, but eyes wide with shock, anger, and... accusation.

The powergazer simply disappeared, as did one of the snipers. There was a flash and swell of energy close to Diggory, but he was not gone. He cast about, alarmed.

Roslyn had been a bit shocked by the arrival of woman with features of beast. It wasn't what she expected, but any help was still help. She felt the pressure of gravity fade as Diggory took a step back. He somehow kept his smile, his pistol pointed away and tried to look disarming. The Hendlish girl was already getting up to her feet to shout.

Before any words came from her lips, the assassination started and failed. Suddenly two individuals vanished leaving Diggory and one sniper behind. The man cursed at his luck then turned to face the girls. "Well, the gods be damned."

His arm jerked up and fired at Zarina. Roslyn ignored the subtle itch in her elbow as she narrowed on the ball. She pulled from the bullet's momentum, slowing it down, then sling shot it back to the sender.

A bullet shot wasn't going to stop the dragon's stride. An opportunity to show just how 'impervious' a horrifer's scales were. But alas, Roslyn beat her with an accurate and powerful enough draw to redirect the shot to the sender.

“Tsk tsk.” a strange quid pro quo took form as Zarina rumbled control over the bullet before could hit Diggory. The last thing she wanted was for the big talker to disappear like the others. She was no fool to what was going on - they were either retreating to hide what they were doing, or being eliminated for the same purpose.

Below Diggory's feet began to form a portal. “You're due for a break.” she remarked as the temporal maw sought to send the vagrant to An Zenui's deserts. Luckily, it would be night time there, sparing him the harsh heat.

Diggory's eyes widened in alarm and then, just like that, he disappeared. Had he gone through Zarina's portal or elsewhere? It was hard to say. The ship rocked up and down on the waves, Zarina bristled threateningly. Roslyn cast about. The crew drew back. "I didn't know nothin'!" one insisted. "We was juss followin' orders!"

"It was all 'im, I tell yeh."

"We didn't know nuttin' about it. I swears!"

"You in't gonna go a murderin', yeh?"

"I... I was told to shoot an' I shot," the marksman said, among the last to speak. He looked about frantically, dropping his weapon and backing up with his hands raised.

Roslyn stood there and holding the energy in. She was shaking with anger as it churned inside of her. Red tingled at the edges of her vision and she forced herself to stay in place. Someone had tried to kill Penny, but she didn't know who or why. She inhaled deeply to gain control of her temper.

"Who told you to shoot?" Roslyn stepped forward. She hadn't heard Diggory give the order as she had been talking with him most of the time.

Elsewhere, aboard the Cuore Volante, Ciro Volta was trying to get a hold of Simona. It took him three attempts before she responded. <Padrone.>

<It's about time. Are they secured?>

<Two out of the three, certainly.>

<You missed one!?>

<I think I got him, but the Strega Squamosa knows temporal too.>

Ciro scowled. <Check. Immediately.>

<Yes, Padrone.>

<Over.>

There was a pause and Ciro took a moment to prod the helmsman closer to the dead beast. "If there's anything valuable there, we claim it," he commanded, but then, it appeared Simona wasn't finished.

<Padrone.>

<Confirmed?>

<Still waiting.>

<Then why are you making a social call, Simona?>

<Did we win?>

Ciro gazed out across the sea to the Fortis Orritis, where a commotion had begun. Penny was, unfortunately, very much alive, but the main goal seemed to be well underway to being achieved.

Zarina clicked her tongue a third time as Diggory vanished. It was more of a snarl with her features distorting into a disgusted grimace.

The crew soon came together and the last 'culprit' made himself known. He had surrendered, but that meant little to a temporal mage. “We don't have time for an interrogation.” she remarked, and in an instant her core was pressed against the man with the hands up, one arm coiled around his torso. “Our fates will be shared, now.” she uttered, almost poetically if it wasn't for how exasperated she sounded.

She intended to warp this one into the Tethered refuge this time. Or end up where the others had.

Roslyn tensed when Zarina moved forward. She spoke quickly as she felt the familiar itching starting again. "If you can store him somewhere, I have a hat that will help. It copies memories from people. "

"Putain!" she screamed. "Un enculé à tenté de me tuer!" She was livid, casting about for the culprit. "Montre-toi, connard, je vais te baiser ta race au point de niquer la mémoire de tes ancêtres, petite merde va!" She stalked across the deck, ready to rip a person limb from limb.

Crew members rushed up to her, their voices, faces, and bearings radiating both concern and... fear, for her rage was truly incandescent. She ripped a balustrade off of the ship and disintegrated it in midair, but then they were pointing and calling it out: the ship from which the fire had come. She laid eyes upon it and was, sadly, unsurprised. It was the Enthish pirates. "You save this ship," she warned. "I have done my work already and it has been good." She picoted on her heel, gathered from the water, and rocketed towards the Salty Swallow.

A great many miles away, at the other end of Severa, Marceline felt the heat and stench of Temporal magic. Alarmed, she pulled back on her wheels and, moments later, a bedraggled looking pirate appeared in the middle of the courtyard practically where she'd been standing. This, then, would be Zarina's work. The man scarce had time to look around when she seized him with her kinetic magic and dropped him to the ground. "Whoever you are, you're here because you just pissed off someone I like. Stay still and be good and nothing bad will happen to you."

The drop off was swift, barely ten seconds in-and-out. The goods secured somewhere few would be foolish enough to even consider looking into.

Upon returning, Zaz smirked. Penny's wrath was unleashed and rightly so. Part of her wanted to see these vermin get some just desserts.

But, alas ...

“Ah-ah-ah ...” the taller-than-usual draconic lady stood in the vanguard, right before the poor sods that did not stand a chance. “Their captain's gone. Don't actually throw away your life over a few nothing sailors.” she stood tall, arms crossed and not exactly in the most protective of stances. These people probably deserved some retribution, after all.

Ciro watched the princess have a meltdown and he almost laughed with giddy glee, but he did not, for he was master of his face, and he only cracked a small, satisfied smile that could've meant anything. Then, the news got even better. <Padrone.>

<Simona.>

<He is secured.>

<Excellent, cugina.>

<We did it, Padrone!>

<Don't get too excited. Get them to Enth.>

<On it!>

<And Simona?>

<Padrone?>

<Good work. I love you.>

<Thank you, Ciro. I love you too.>

“With a trusted friend.” Zarina whispered, eyes still on the raging bull that was the princess.

Penny arced around back of the ship and came in for a landing. "Out of my way, Zarina," she demanded, touching down on the ship hard enough to shatter some of its planks. "And you." She regarded Roslyn. "I'm in perfect control of myself." She smiled pleasantly enough, but there was something truly ugly in her eyes. "You have my word that I won't lay so much as a finger on these sacks of feces disguised as human beings." Her crutches snapped to her arms and she took a step forward, boiling with nine points of energy. Her eyes scythed through the cowering sailors. More than one dropped to the deck, vomiting or writhing in place. Even Roslyn looked queasy. "Now," the princess demanded, "Which of you was behind it? I just need one name," she offered, "then the rest of you can go home."

"Shit." Roslyn uttered when she felt Penny's power. Was she always that strong? The girl leaned against the rail, using it to balance and support herself. She pushed through the sick feeling in her body. "Penny, this is too much. They don't know. I think all the ones part of the attack were ported away."

Zarina exhaled from her nostrils and her claws drummed over her salty attire. “I don't recall you needing to touch someone to gore them, Penelope.” still, the Virangish pivoted to give a better view to the princess. “Promise you won't kill these mongrels, and you can have your interrogation. But I think the shotcallers have been swiped from us already.”

"I... I didn't know nothin', lady." The marksman backed up, but he didn't go far. His hands were raised and his body language pacifying. "That's a double negative," Marceline replied. "Just stay the fuck still." She shook her head. "I'm sure she'll be back for you before long."

"It was all the boss and a couple others. I swear it. They just turned around and changed their minds suddenly."

"Mmmm hm." Marci glanced down at her nails. "That's something you can tell her, okay?" She rolled up beside him, reached out, and patted him on the shoulder. "You just stay nice and safe and quiet here. If what you're saying is true, you have nothing to worry about, Mister Sailor Guy. Laelle!" she called, looking up, "Keep an eye on this shithead, okay?"

A younger tethered, still very much on four, hustled forward. "Uh... yes! Right. Absolutely." With that, the prisoner was secured.

"It's so much more personal when you do it with your own hands, though, not the cowards' way." She sighed and seemed to deflate a bit when the words of her two... friends seemed to match. "Swiped by who and swiped where?" she demanded. "Do we have any idea?" She shook her head, still letting loose with a massive amount of energy until she saw that Roslyn was struggling with it.

"I mean, they're Enthish privateers," she snorted, having come right up to the other two. "They went after an Eskandish-Virangish ship ostensibly to attack the thresher, but there were a hundred better ways they could've done that. Then, a brazen attempt on my life." She shook her head tight and scowled. She was cold and unequivocal now, the burning rage from a minute earlier having visibly cooled and been replaced. "Perrence demands satisfaction."

Roslyn felt the pressure gradually lessen as color returned to her face. She caught the mention about the earlier attack as her eyes shifted away. It looked bad and she hated herself for it. Why didn't she think before she acted? One thing at a time, she told herself. She'll explain and apologize about the first attack later. First, she wanted to focus on finding the actual culprits or this wouldn't be the last attempt on Penny's life. "I don't think the ones responsible for this care if you kill, hurt, or punish them."

She squinted, trying to recall everything that happened earlier. A subtle throbbing etched across the back of her skull. She reached back and gingerly touched it, feeling the small split of skin. Roslyn hissed then mumbled, "Fucker hit me harder than I expected. Starting to think pirates are bad for my health." She applied pressure to stop the bleeding.

“Temporal magic. From where? No clue.” Zarina shot a careful eye at the troupe of men, many terrified of what their fates would be. “I did not sense a temporal stench within my perimeter. I have to assume it's either a much stronger spatial magic user than myself, or someone with considerably more range.” was her analysis, eyes back to Penny and the subtle gestures that could indicate rowdy behaviour.

Then Roslyn added her input, prompting a shrug. “You're the boss of this ship now. I'll leave their fates to you, but I still counsel that you keep the princess from becoming an easy - what did they call it again?” the dragon blinked and tapped her scaley cheek with her claw. “Cassis Belly. Or something.” with another indifferent shrug, the Virangish had disappeared in a flash, keen on scouring the remains of the thresher and enforce some much needed arbitration after the recent mess.

Penny was left there, impotent in her rage, as Zarina teleported away. She'd been attacked and nearly murdered and she was the problem to be babysat. "This ship is to be interned in a neutral port," she suggested, flicking her head towards the coast and distant Zengali. "Anyone disagree?"

At Zarina's mention of "Cassis Belly", Roslyn resisted the urge to point out it didn't matter. She gripped her elbow and tensed when Zarina abruptly vanished. Her mind made a note of the mention of temporal as she was left in charge of the ship. At Penny's words, Roslyn's eyes darted around the crew. Fear etched across their features, all eyes remained on the princess as they kept silent. Not a single one dared to object. Satisfied that the bleeding had stopped, she replied. "I doubt anyone will. It wouldn't look good if they did."

Still feeling a bit guilty, she then added. "I'll stay onboard and make sure they get docked."

Epilogue of Cast Away

Stirring the Fire Within

At the conclusion of the battle, Tamatoa didn't exchange words with Mahal. He had rushed to his father's aid, made sure he would live, and focused on bringing the warriors of Moatu Suva together. But even then, when the first party raged in celebration of tensions passed, he hadn't sought her out. It was as though he was avoiding her.

Everyone on Moatu Suva slept in that night. Only toward the late morning did anyone go about their day and prepared for the next night of festivities. The sun shone bright and warm, and the gentle sea breeze soothed the skin. It was hard to believe this place was a war zone only a day ago. It was then that Tamatoa approached Mahal and asked for a private conversation.

They sat there on the beach facing away from the wreck. The seamless horizon sparkled a dazzling blue as the only noise for a time was the coming and going of waves. This place was truly a paradise. And yet, the Prince looked only to the distance with a bothered look on his face. Perhaps he hadn't left that battlefield quite yet.

"When we were back fighting off those pirates, you had the opportunity to join us. Aid me, aid my father, and yet you stayed on that ship and helped the Virangish. Why?"

Mahal eyed up her knuckles, the dark purple bruises now yellowing. Instead of celebrating, she had found a groove of trees and unleashed her fury upon them. By the time she was done, her hands were bleeding. She inhaled and dropped her arms to her side. Diyablos settled upon her shoulder as he clung about her neck. Absentminded, she stroked his side until the sound of footsteps caught her attention. She looked up and saw Tamatoa. He had been avoiding her and she suspected she knew the reason why. When he requested her presence, her head tilted before she nodded and silently followed.

Once they were out of sight, the question came. Mahal pressed her back against a nearby tree. Her legs crossed as she lowered herself down, sitting among the gritty sands. A quiet passed between them before she spoke. "Ren Baykara was on the ship and I couldn't avoid him. Besides, it was the plan to show support. Fighting alongside them accomplished that."

Mahal eyed up her knuckles, the dark purple bruises now yellowing. Instead of celebrating, she had found a groove of trees and unleashed her fury upon them. By the time she was done, her hands were bleeding. She inhaled and dropped her arms to her side. Diyablos settled upon her shoulder as he clung about her neck. Absentminded, she stroked his side until the sound of footsteps caught her attention. She looked up and saw Tamatoa. He had been avoiding her and she suspected she knew the reason why. When he requested her presence, her head tilted before she nodded and silently followed. Once they were out of sight, the question came. Mahal pressed her back against a nearby tree. Her legs crossed as she lowered herself down, sitting among the gritty sands. A quiet passed between them before she spoke. "Ren Baykara was on the ship and I couldn't avoid him. Besides, it was the plan to show support. Fighting alongside them accomplished that."

"He was there, so you couldn't." The Prince clicked his tongue in frustration and grimace, his gaze still to the sea. Although, his delivery didn't leave the impression that his frustrations were targeted at her and what she chose. His sitting posture was reserved with knees up and arms reaching out to keep them in place. "You felt fear. While you had the choice, there really wasn't one because you knew the consequences of choosing wrong and didn't want to see them." He turned to look Mahal in the eyes. His face was angry but his eyes didn't carry the weight of judgment, only sadness. "Am I right to say that?"

Mahal felt Diyablos crawl from her shoulder down to her lap. The octopus left a damp trail as he settled in the nook of her legs and toyed with her fingers. Fear. Her mind fixated on the word and she took a deep breath. A thing displayed by the weak and enslaved, not something a daughter with blood ties to noble society should feel. Her eyes lowered to hide her self disgust. Her silence answered his question clearly.

"It's not him I fear, but of ill words getting back to my father. He is not a man known for his mercy. Especially toward me. Unfortunately, I seemed to have done my task a bit too well." She inhaled then added with an angry tone. her hands balled up into fists. "It's the students' fault I'm in this position. If they hadn't picked me to aid the Virang, I wouldn't have crossed paths with him. He wouldn't have known I existed."

Tamatoa let out a long sigh has he leaned back on his hands and tried to let the tension roll off him. It didn't. "I know the feeling all too well Mahal, all too well now... I don't think we were any different than you." His hands clenched into fists as well. "We fought for them not because we agreed with their goals but because a knife hung over our heads if we resisted."

"I grew up free in this place, to have them come in and force our hand... I want this to be the last time it ever happens."

Mahal shook her head. She uncurled her fingers as Diyablos' tentacles wrapped about them. "It won't be though. The strong will always remind the weak of their place. Be it though words or physical means."

She took a deep breath. Being a noble's daughter she was taught strength above all else and where her place was. Whenever she rose above it, her father would jerk her back into line. It was a fate she would never escape and she had stopped trying years ago. What was the point when it ended in pain? "Some times, it isn't worth the pain."

"Sometimes it is worth the pain... We have our freedoms to fight for, isn't that worth putting our lives on the line for?" Tamatoa replied with a fire in his chest. "I hear theres going to be a war in Constantia, Mahal. Virang and all their forces will need to be staked on keeping their homeland safe. Maybe that's our chance to take Palapar back. We are far out and don't see the Virang patrols often, but I'm sure Moatu Suva could stand with the mainland in that goal."

It's easy to say when you've not watched your severed arm go flying across the floor. Mahal thought, but kept her mouth shut. Her eyes continued to watch her pet, but she still lisented to him. The complications rose to her attention. She wasn't just a native. She was a noble and had ties to the 'problem'. Dalma, Lunara's mother, was part of the Virangish nobility circle and so was Lunara because of blood. "Then what? How do we keep it? Virang will likely drain our country dry before they will let us stand on our own. We're a colony of theirs after all. Besides, it's more complicated for me than a simply choice."

Tamatoa paused, it seemed a thought as simple as 'then what?' had yet to cross his mind. "If they are going to drain your country dry regardless of what you do, isn't it better we get rid of them now? With them distracted in the war, we can look for allies and build up defences. If the situation is as lose-lose as you say, I would rather take my chances fighting for our freedom."

Mahal's eyes lingered on Tamatoa as she tried to find where his strength came from. She didn't understand it, but it stirred something in her. As she continued to keep her octopi in her lap, she spoke again. "I admire your bravery and hope." She exhaled then added. "I might be more jaded than I realized. My mother is native born, but my father is part of the noble circle. Being on the receiving side of his wrath, someone of his strength feels unbeatable. I notice not all the natives are magically gifted either and so there will be a lot of death if we fight."

"To shy away from war only means that the cause was not important." Tamatoa explained as if reciting a lecture he had learned time and time again. "To commit oneself to battle, to risk your life and pose risk to the lives of your enemies in defense of something is an expression of love for it. I love these islands, Mahal, I love the freedom when you take a boat to the ocean and feel the breeze against your face. As long as the Virangish stay on these islands, that will slowly be stripped from us. I can only imagine what the main land feels being under their thumb."

He turned to the girl and took her hand. "You must understand, many of us here are soldiers without cause. Freedom is something any of us would take up arms for. Besides, we have some advantages." He gave the grin of a confident man, whether or not it was misplaced was yet to be seen.

"To shy away from war only means that the cause was not important." Tamatoa explained as if reciting a lecture he had learned time and time again. "To commit oneself to battle, to risk your life and pose risk to the lives of your enemies in defense of something is an expression of love for it. I love these islands, Mahal, I love the freedom when you take a boat to the ocean and feel the breeze against your face. As long as the Virangish stay on these islands, that will slowly be stripped from us. I can only imagine what the main land feels being under their thumb."

He turned to the girl and took her hand. "You must understand, many of us here are soldiers without cause. Freedom is something any of us would take up arms for. Besides, we have some advantages." He gave the grin of a confident man, whether or not it was misplaced was yet to be seen.

Mahal knew more about the main land then the smaller islands. She watched the elites bleed the people dry as their resentment grew under the lash. Words from radicals cried for change, but the people waited for the words from the Queen. They needed the order to burn down the system and rise from the ashes. Eventually, Mahal had to pick a side.

Her eyes glanced up when she felt him touch her hand. She would be risking losing Lunara and her father, but she'd be free. Her heart wondered what that was like. Her hand squeezed his in acceptance. "It's not death I fear because there's things far worse to endure. Let's hope your advantages are enough, or we'll need to come up with new tricks."

Deep down, she knew if they lost then Ren and those like him would make examples of them. So she prayed to the ancestors to give her strength for the challenge to come. And that one day, Lunara might forgive her.

---

As Tamatoa helped her up, he presented her with a strange and rare material. She turned the pale, ivory colored stone over in her hand. He called it Ngangau Koiwi. The same material used in his father's weapon, it drained energy from magical sources. This one drew the heaviest from binding while kinetic was barely touched. Her mind thought about the hook like weapon the King wielded causing her to inquire more. Ultimately, she accepted the gift intending to use it.

After her conversation with Tamatoa, Mahal had been left feeling raw and uncertain. Unable to tolerate the bitterness, she rose onto her feet and patted her skirt clean. Her form disappeared into the jungle. While she hadn't known Fiske for long, she knew spirits became restless. Their memories could haunt the living and drive them into insanity. While her feet navigated over the twigs and branches, she sought any red coloring. Death blooms or known as tūpā were a flower traditionally burned to burned to guide the dead into the afterlife. She had preformed the rite many times through this was the first time within the last two years.

Mahal spent a good hour or two, but only found look alike ones. She sighed and crouched down to pick it. Hopefully the spirit appreciated effort more than accuracy. Next she found a large fallen branch to carve a small boat to cradle the plant. Though she didn't asked any of the students to join her, she didn't stop them from helping or joining her either. Eventually she finished her task then used arcane to set it alight before letting it drift into the ocean.

Events after

How to Train Your Dragon

Location/Date: Animal Farm, Velles 22nd
Niallus talked with the guards, inquiring about Albion's pen. Roslyn stood nearby and crossed her arms while waiting. She glanced at the Queensgate, recalling the aberration incident before pushing it aside. By now, Niallus had finished up causing the men to step aside. Walking through the cobblestone paths, she eyed the various pens and their occupants. The students' pets ranged from a giant sloth to adorable rosy threshers, each needing their own space to exist.

Finally they stopped at a small forest edging an open meadow. Roslyn saw nothing as she turned to Niallus, "So where is Albion?"

Standing next to Roslyn, the shrubbery slightly swaying in the cool breeze. His eyes slowly surveying the area, in an attempt to spot his dragon. Before he could spot her, his attention pans to into a direction, A couple of white scales catching the sun's rays. Around where the scales were rested. The grass around it was flattened off, the trees are parted just enough so that it can be a excellent place to bask in the sun.

"She's here, well normally. " pointing towards where the scales were. "Let's have a look around, but stay close to me as a precaution." Warning Roslyn as he took a couple of steps forward.

"Right, um... what type of animal is Albion? I think I forgot to ask earlier." Her head swiveled about, observing the surroundings. The sun beat down on her pale blue dress as she kept close to him. Her boots stepped across the grass, flattening it more. Some blades just behind her moved. She twisted about and knocked into Niallus' back. A fat hare bolted past. With a flash of its white tail, it disappeared into the trees. "Sorry, I didn't mean that."

"She's a Dargon, A Harlequin Kite to be more precise. "After feeling Roslyn bump into his back, he turned on his heels. "What is it?" catching a shrub russle, he caught a silver shimmer close to it. Walking in front of Roslyn. "Don't make any sudden moments, as she can spit out highly poisonus siliva." He said glancing towards Roslyn then back to the foliage. "It's alright. She's a friend." Seconds passed, then, a head of a white dragon started to push past the foliage. Its eyes were a pretty shade of blue, as it stared at her owner and his companion.

"Just a hare, I think. " Roslyn replied. She tried to recall what she knew of the dragon species, but she came up empty. Before she asked more, Niallus' warning reached her ears. Roslyn froze on the spot. Her eyes followed him. That would've been nice to know earlier!

She sucked in her breath. Not even daring to draw in the sunlight, she stayed perfectly still. Don't spit. Please don't spit.

Using the joints of her wings, Albion slowly crept her way out from where she was hiding, all while not breaking eye contact. Sunlight shined off her white scales, her folded up wings, shimmering a sort of rainbow pattern from the sun. She had a magnificent aura around her as she continued her prowl towards them. If Niallus was with anyone she trusted, she wouldn't act in this way.
"That's it, Good girl." Niallus praising his dragon.

Albion eventually came to in front of Niallus, to the point where she had to slightly look down to meet her masters gaze. Then Albion nuzzled her head to shoulder, letting out affectionate churps.

Roslyn didn't like being helpless. Muscles started to tingle after holding the unnatural posture for so long. Her eyes made contact with the dragon's blue ones, even when her primal brain screamed to stop. The air in her chest started to burn up her insides. She knew better than to bolt while Albion nuzzled up against Niallus' shoulder. Her subtle misery ended when her breath cautiously released from her lungs. The girl refused to speak to avoid breaking the bonding moment.

Albions head stopped moving across Niallus's shoulder. Her eyes locked onto Roslyn, a low hum came from the dragon as she tilted her head towards Roslyn, stalking towards, as a hunter would stalk its prey. Albions nostrils flared every few moments as she came closer and closer smell Roslyns scent.
Niallus stood ready, just in case. Roslyn wasn't in danger, for Albion, this was her way to see if people pass her test.

The fabric of her dress shifted against her skin. She trembled a bit, feeling the heat and intense stare down. Her hazel eyes snapped to Niallus who seemed unfazed by the dragon's behavior. Using her willpower, the young girl stood her ground. She sank her feet into the ground and didn't budge.

"Don't you dare think about biting me." She realized how lame she sounded the moment it came out of her mouth.

Upon reaching Roslyn, Albion stood there not moving, it move its head sniffing her. Niallus walked up to the pair "See, Roslyns not going to hurt you." Niallus said to Albion, Albion however was still staring at her.

Niallus went into his satchel, looking for a treat for his dragon, pulling out a small apple. Offering it to Roslyn, spotting the apple Albion tried grabbing the apple out of Niallus's hand. He manages to hold her back as he offered the Apple to Roslyn.

Roslyn eyed up the exchange between Niallus and Albion before taking the apple. It was a hefty one with a bright red skin. In turn, she offered it up to the white kite. Gently she lowered her snout and began to chew it. While petting the muzzle, Roslyn commented. "I thought dragons usually ate meat, not fruit. "

"Most Kites eat herbs and fruit." He spoke while he petted the side of Albions head as she began eating the red apple "But Albion can eat either. Sven mentioned that her race of dragon are Omnivores. So i try my best to give her a balance of both fruit and meat." He pulls out another apple, this time a green one, "She's slowly warming up to you. Otherwise she would have probably fled by now. Do you want to feed her again?"

Roslyn wrinkled her nose a bit when she felt Albion's tongue brush her skin. It reminded her of a dog's, including the sensation of drool coating her palm. While the dragon crunched away, she glanced toward Niallus. "Oh, sure. She's covered my palm in a bit of drool."

She took the offered apple and held it up to Albion. Immediately, the white dragon's head lowered and crunched away. More saliva coated her hand as she accepted the icky sensation. "How long have you had her?"

Niallus patted Albions neck as she ate from Roslyns hand, "I've had her since she was an egg, she hatched in front of me almost a year ago." there was a lose bit of dry skin that was left over, seems that she shead her skin not to long ago.

"She's very protective over me, but she also needs to be protected. Mostly due her white scales." He stops petting her, for a moment. "When I first had this place set up for her, someone tried abducting her. Since her scales can be valuable. But no one else has tried." He simply said.

Roslyn idly stroked the dragon's cheek. She remained mindful not to catch the scales as Niallus' story echoed with human greed. It was hard for her to imagine hurting such a pretty animal for profit.

"Glad to heard that they didn't hurt her. Even for money, I can't imagine hurting such a pretty creature. At least, now." Her hand pulled back when the apple was finished. "She's pretty big for one year old. Can she fly?"

Niallus nods to Roslyn, "Yes, she can, she cant carry anyone yet, but she's getting there." giving Albion a little scratches under her jaw. He pulls out another apple. "Albion..." He said getting her to turn her head to face him, sighting the apple she moved away from the two humans. Niallus threw the apple straight up into the air, Albion stood up straight, her wings unfolded the sun catching them giving them a majestic rainbow style, her eyes tracking the apple. In an instant she took off flying straight up to catch the apple.

Roslyn's arms crossed over her waist. Her eyes observed the white dragon walk away and then lower into a pouncing stance. She turned toward him. "Niallus what are you-"

A small gust brushed past her, ruffling her skirt. Her eyes turned skyward to spot the beast snap her jaws onto the apple. Awe filled Roslyn's eyes, noting the beauty in that moment. "Whoa.... How long did it take you to train her to do that?"

Niallus looked up to his dragon, seeing her take to the sky is something that he'll always be amazed at. Watching her gracefully twril in the air, before she starts to descend back to the ground, with a last flap of her wings she adjusted herself at the right angle of her body for her hind legs to land.

Looking back to his Hendlish friend. "It took a while, the more she got the hang of it i threw it higher up." He was about to say more, but Albions head bumped his shoulder, then his waist as she began sniffing him, no doubt wanting to check if he had more treats for her. "Albion, I dont have any more." He said with a little chuckle in his tone.

The way Albion behaved, Roslyn knew the dragon was spoiled. She let out a soft snicker and shook her head, amused by the dragon's search for more treats. Her hands gathered her skirts as she stepped through the tall grass. "I don't think she believes you."

Her eyes drank in the small area of wild beauty, her form twisting once about in place. "This place reminds me a bit of home without the rolling hills. Especially in the deep woods near the manor. I half expect to see a pond come into view any moment."

Niallus managed to shoo away Albions head away from him as she sniffed. The Dragons attention turned to Roslyn, she tilted her head as if she wondered if the Hendland had them. Before Albion had a chance to investigate, Niallus pulled her away, listening to what Roslyn mentioned. "There is a little hideaway that i made, hidden a bit away. I trust you, Roslyn." as he turned Albion went on ahead, Letting out a small chuckle. He turned to Roslyn "Come."

Leading a little bit deeper into the forest, Niallus lead Roslyn to a area secluded away by trees. It was a open area where the branches that were above the area acted as sort of roof, light still broke through, but it wasn't blinding, it gave it a warming aura to it. One side of the area there was a small river, Albion walked up to the river to drink from it. On the other side, there was a small area that resembles of a makeshift living arrangements, having makeshift beds that people can sleep on it was made out of leaves and pelts, near it was a pile of books. Lasty at the centre, there was a campfire, where food can be cooked if needed.

"This is where Alibion sleeps when it rains, theres even room for a person here."

Roslyn shook her head when Albion turned to her. It wasn't hard to know what the dragon wanted as she held out her empty hands in plain sight. "Oh no, don't look at me. I don't have anymore."

She smiled when Niallus saved her from a sniff over by the curious dragon. At his mention of a hidden hideaway and trust, her right eyebrow raised. "I would hope so. I don't think I did anything to make you distrust me."

Casually, she strolled behind the taller Eskander. Her eyes scanned her steps, avoiding any lurking piles of dragon shit in the tall grass. Gradually the overhead canopy began to thick and shelter them from the sun's rays. For a moment, Roslyn felt like a character in one of her land's old stories. Her eyes darted about and expected to find some large shadow looming nearby. She stepped closer to Niallus, drawing on his presence for comfort.

When they arrived at a camp site of sorts, she took in the scene. It surprised her how cozy the place was. "Did you make this all by yourself? If so, I'm impressed."

Niallus scratched the back of his head, "Thanks, i wanted to find somewhere that was away from it all, Thankfully, one of the Zenos helped by showing me this place." He walked across the camp, to where a small pile of books were. "I often find myself staying at least once a week."

After drinking some water from the river, Albion walked over to the large animal bed, once stood on it she curled herself up to go to sleep. "Seems the Albion enjoys you being here, that's good. Esmii has the record for the fastest person shes bonded with." letting out a light chuckle.

"This as close as you can get to being in the middle of nowhere. Especially when you can't leave Ersand'Enise." With all the chaos in her life, Roslyn started to wonder if she needed an escape of her own. She stepped on the opposite side of the fire as she folded up her skirts and sat down. "I will have to bring some ale and picnic lunch next time. "

Her eyes turned to the lounging white creature as she smiled. "I'm glad she approves. As for Esmii's record, it will be safe for a loooong time."

Niallus sat next to his lazy Dragon. "True. Esmii, Sven Oweyn and Marlijn, they all bonded with her when she was a baby dragon." he said giving her a little pet. "I'm slowly training her to get use to people who aren't the people she is use too. Hopefully when she's bigger. I'll train her so she'll can used as rideable mount." He looks to Roslyn "Would you be interested?"

Roslyn's eyes drifted to the dragon snuggling up to Niallus. Her imagination considered what it might be up in the clouds as her attention drifted off. Pulling herself back to earth, she nodded. "Absolutely!"

Realizing the volume, her hands pulled up and clasped over her mouth for a moment. With a sheepish look, she then added in a softer tone. "Sorry, a bit excited. Yes, I would love to. Are you going to train her in Eskandish or Avincian?"

Albion looked up to Roslyn after her little excitement about riding a dragon. Niallus let out a little chuckle, "Well you're enthusiastic, thats good." He remarked. "No need to apologise Roslyn." as he left Albions side giving her one last pet, to let her rest. Niallus went to where Roslyn was. "I'll be training her in both Avincian first since she's almost big enough to ride. Then Eskandr. She'll need to memorise the areas from the sky." He walked past Roslyn getting ready to leave, when Albion came striding up behind Niallus, wanting more nuzzles, "I got to go, I'll come back for a bit in the morning." the Dragons gaze glanced in Roslyns direction, as if she was next to attacked by affection.

"Hard not to be. Though also a little terrified, " Roslyn added with a shrugged. She frowned when she heard the mention of Albion learning two languages. Her eyes glanced over to the creature currently nuzzling the dark haired man, "I might suggest limiting it to one. Most humans find it hard learning multiple languages and I can't imagine it's easy for a dragon."

Her head followed his form, hiding her disappointment, then rose up on her feet. She dusted off her skirt and then noticed the beast sizing her up. Holding up a finger, she spoke firmly. " No. I haven't time to be mauled by an attention seeking dragon. I'll bring you an apple when I come to visit again."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Albion moved toward her. Roslyn cried out before she twisted about, her feet rushed for the exit. Somewhere behind her, she caught Niallus' booming laughter then called the dragon back.

Truth or Cider

Location/Date: Beer Garden, Velles 23rd.
Roslyn bit her lip as she put the quill to paper. She wasn't sure where to begin, but forced her hand to write.

Dear Xiuyang,

I invite you to join me in the Beer Garden after classes. I hope you don't mind testing some new cider recipes and getting to know each other. There's a fun game from Hendland I'm hoping to share with you.

Sincerely, Roslyn.

She glanced at the letter with scrutinizing eyes. Her hand placed the quill back into its well before pressing her fingers over her lips. The words didn't feel right no matter how much she tried. Instead of spiraling and redoing it over, she swallowed her worries. She folded it up, poured hot wax and then pressed in the seal. She discreetly handed it off to Xiuyang when they had Preservation class together the next day.

---

Roslyn pulled onto her toes and reached for the small glasses in the cabinet. Taking them down one by one, she split them between two trays. She had the number she needed, causing her to thump back onto her heels. Carefully, she organized them neatly before sliding them next to several jars. Each one had a different symbol painted on the label. Mostly of it was nonsense save to Roslyn as she took a moment to breathe.

"Now, I need to get these from here to the table, " She sighed and glanced at the sundial. "I still got time."

With the war and other heavy topics of late, the Hendland girl felt the two of them needed a break from it all. Today was going to be nothing, but fun and getting to know each other. That meant a drinking game though with cider instead of alcohol. Rolling up her sleeves, she stacked the trays on top of each other then hoisted them up. She managed to finish up just when Xiuyang arrived. "Glad you can make it."

The letter was received by a sleep-deprived but relatively chipper Xiuyang. Her eyes questioned if she should open it right away, and upon reading it, she gave Roslyn the OK. Then, it was back to her notes. A student sitting next to her seemed to notice that she was writing things down before the Zeno even talked about them, and spent most of the class staring at her notebook in disbelief.

When Xiuyang arrived, she stood still for a while, waiting for her ears to catch whatever Roslyn just said. It was awkward enough that she finally removed her beanie. It occurred to her that it would be useful to learn how to read lips like Oksana. "I'm keeping my schedule free for a while. That last mission was nothing short of stressful." While she spoke of the mission, she thought of the things that happened around and after it just as much. "You seem well. What's all this, then?" she said, gesturing to all the jars. Reminds me of how Trypano labels chemicals...

Roslyn raised an eyebrow, but kept her pleasant grin. She uncorked the first jar and then poured. The ember liquid rose swiftly to the top of two of the glasses. At the mention of being well, she paused for a bit and slowly put it back. It reminded her about Mezegol, more specifically the portal home. The dark truth was screaming no, but she didn't want to ruin the moment.

Clearing her throat, Roslyn quickly latched onto Xiuyang's question. "Oh, yeah. This batch is cider with cinnamon, there's a crude apple here with a stick. " She pointed to the uneven, lump 'apple' with a triangle growing out of it and a dash line beside it. She bit her lip. "I'm sad to say, I'm no Tku when it comes to art. This is the best I can do."

Roslyn gestured for Xiuyang to sit across from her. "Anyways, lets focus on having some fun first. You can start. You tell one truth and one lie. I have to guess which is the truth. If I am wrong, I take a shot of cider. If I'm right, you do. And just a warning, I don't know if they taste good or not. I experimented with the favors and methods."

"I'm no better. If I draw a heart, there's about a fifty-fifty chance it looks like a butt," Xiuyang replied, eyeing the symbols with some relief and renewed curiosity.

Then came the introduction of the game. "A truth and a lie, huh." ...This seems like the kind of game that gets saucy by the end, like truth or dare.

Her default grin widened. "Sure. Then, between these two: one, I've never lost a drinking contest, and two, I was pretending to be drunk when I had my first kiss."

Roslyn chuckled at the thought of a heart shaped butt. Her arms crossed underneath her as she took a seat and leaned forward. She rolled her tongue against the inside of her mouth in thought. "Ummm, that's a tough one. I'm going to guess the second one is the truth and first is a lie."

"HaHA!" Xiuyang cackled, clapping her hands twice. "I love it! I love your mental image of me as an innocent maiden who wouldn't just go for it! Not that I didn't try that gambit, mind you. It just didn't work." Xiuyang grinned, blushing. "It's true, I haven't lost yet, but only because I don't pick fights I can't win. I didn't challenge Mountain Spring. He would've toasted me. I've had a few salty opponents declare a draw, though. It's fun to see which 'runs out' first, the alcohol or their pocketbook!" she snickered. "First round of cider is yours, Rose. Or do we both take a shot at guessing first?"

"I took a guess, and lost. Just don't challenge a hegelan and you might keep your win streak." Roslyn commented, amused by Xiuyang's trickery. " No, I take the first shot. Based on my reaction and description, you get to decide if you want to try it or not. Let's hope this doesn't taste like shit."

She lifted the glass before tilting it yup and gulping it down in one shot. A strong, cinnamon burn raced along her tongue chased back by the bitterness of apples. The wooziness hit her harder than she expected as she set it back down. "That burns more than I expected. I might've let that one ferment too long. Reminds me of Firetail Whiskey, but with a bit of bitter apple. Be careful with that one."

She inhaled then shook her head clear. "My turn." Clasping her fingers together, she pressed her forefingers to her lips for a moment. "Choice between: My first taste of alcohol was from my gandfather's secret stash or I set my brother's trousers on fire during a planned dinner. "

"Heh. I'll outdrink a hegelan, no problem," she replied smugly as she retrieved a shot glass from her bag. "The way you describe the profile, this feels appropriate," she said as she proceeded to take a shot of the cider. "Hey, it's pretty damn good like this."

Xiuyang listened to the choices Roslyn gave and couldn't help but smile. "Okay. My gut is telling me the first one is true, but I'm going to guess the second one just because I need to hear that story. I don't care if you made it up, I just need to know how you imagined that happening."

"Well, you can keep that jar if you like it. I can always make more. I didn't expect the cinnamon to kick up like that." Roslyn commented, then sighed. "Well, I wish you had gone with your gut. I might've won. But, the other one also is amusing to tell as it's not a full lie."

She grabbed the other jar and poured two more shots, passing one over to Xiuyang. This one had an odd bump oval on it. "This one has lemon in it. Wish me luck." Down it went as Roslyn sat there. She licked her lips then debated inwardly, finally breaking the silence. "The favors are definitely stronger, but I liked the earlier one better. Might be because I'm not a lemon fan."

Roslyn continued with her tale. "I was twelve and we were entertaining some noble company during that dinner. Garith had made me rather cross the day before and so I wanted to get even. I tried to do an illusion spell. Instead of looking like he shat himself, I created a spark and he rushed into the nearby pond to put it out."

She bit her lip thinking of her water soaked brother emerging with a glare at her. "He didn't talk to me for a few weeks after that. Grandfather was upset, but father snickered at it."

Xiuyang just grinned even wider on her second win, but she still tried the cider. "Whoo! Strong, aye. It kicks your ass, but isn't that the idea? ...This is good stuff, eh, Rose? Take some pride in it." She gave her trademark wink and smiled.

"Sounds like your dad has a real sense of humor. I wish I'd tried that on my sister. Would've been worth it." After a moment, she remembered it was her turn. "Ah, hmm. Okay, round two: one, my dad acts like a curmudgeon, but he's actually a huge charmer—a ladies' man! And two: my first alcoholic drink put me in a hospital bed."

"I guess so, but it wasn't what I was expecting. I might send some of these home later and see what he thinks about it." Roslyn glanced at the glass. She smiled at the mention of her father. He was the type that would slide down the banisters with her when no one was looking or chuckling at her antics. Sadly, not all of her memories were fun and games. He had taken on the role of a noble and ensured their family thrived. It meant sacrifices.

As Xiuyang started her next round, Roslyn poured another set of drinks. This time the apple had lemon and mint in it. She frowned a moment. "Umm, I think you're trying to be tricky again. I've only met your father once. I'm going to say the first one is the truth and second is a lie?"

"Ahh, you've only met him once, but you have a good eye. Pass me that shit," she said as she prepared to take the cider. "Mm. Tastes like defeat. Uhh. It's not bad, but the flavor profile is a bit... busy, I guess. They can't all be good, ay?" she offered apologetically.

"Suppose I ought to explain. To be clear, you didn't hear this from me, or in general, hm? My father doesn't have a wandering eye or anything, but he shares a blood type with the Berbignon kid. So does my sister Maria, so watch out if you do business with her, since she has fewer scruples than him. Alas, poor me had to develop natural talent," she japed.

"The latter is a story my sister Desi likes to tell. We used to prank each other, a lot. One time, she was dressing a wound of mine, and giving me a hard time about crying over it—I was like, four—so when she turned her back, I hid the alcohol she was using. When she asked me where it went, I faked a burp, and, well..." she snickered. "You can imagine the rest. Our pranks turned rather mundane after that one, but to this day, she insists that I was actually dumb enough to drink it. She's not a petty girl, but she never let that one go. I probably deserve it."

"Yep, I would be more surprised if there wasn't any. Experiments don't come without some sort of risk. " Roslyn commented as she gave a tentative sip. Her nose crinkled up. "I agree with you on the taste, it's a bit too much. Even the apple flavor is tasting off."

Her eyes widened when Xiuyang explained. She struggled not to laugh, the sound coming out like a stifled chortle. It sounded like something her brother would've done when he was younger. "I wish I could say the same about ours. They hit a peak when I was thirteen, then grandfather told us to stop it or he'd make us. We never tested it to see if he was serious about that."

Roslyn's shoulders rolled with her deep inhale as she continued. "Okay, here we go. When I was seven, I took one of my mother's necklaces and buried it. Second one is that during a game of hide and seek, I once broke my arm after trying to hide on the roof of the manor."

Xiuyang reached for her gourd, only to find that nothing would come out but drops. "Again?" she muttered irritably. Barely resisting the urge to slam it down on the table, she considered the options. "Well, I'm going to hope that second one is false," she offered.

Roslyn spotted Xiuyang's frustration. She considered saying something, but kept her silence until her friend made her guess. The girl made a playful shrug, trying to keep the situation light and fun. "Well, I have had broken bones before but not during that incident. So right again."

After taking her drink, her nose crinkled a bit and stomach tightened. It wasn't horrible, but it was not the best either. Especially compared to the past ones. "I'm not sure I like this one. I should've had something on hand to purge the flavor between shots."

She poured them each another round of the first one then slid Xiuyang one. " This might help." Roslyn settled back and moved on to detail her story a bit more. "So, to further elaborate on the story. It was a bit of an ugly piece and I forgot where I buried it. We, alongside the servants, spent all afternoon digging and looking for it. Never found it. I discovered later that mother never liked the thing and I got off far easier than I should've."

Xiuyang tried the cider anyway, as she did every time. Her nose crinkled too, and she slammed the glass down. "Fuck yeah! This is the best one. Top. Shelf," she declared. For a moment, she forgot about the game entirely and just kept drinking. After a minute, she sobered up, figuratively speaking. "Shit, I dunno if I have any more interesting stories to tell. Not much to talk about after childhood. Work, work work," she swung her glass back and forth to accentuate the monotony. "Much of it confidential—and I don't wanna talk about my love life. That's private too. Ciro's a gentleman, and I wanna respect that and have *some* class." She swilled the remainder of her drink around. "What else, what else..."

Roslyn shook her head, a smirk on her lips. Her form leaned back as her eyes shifted to the left in thought. "Not many people like to talk about their relationships. Mother was the same way. I'll likely be the same with whoever father arranges for me."

If I don't die before then. She inhaled and brushed off the negative thoughts. Somehow, despite everything, she managed not to falter in her smile. "Just keep things light and fun. "

"Light and fun," parroted the sleep-deprived Rettanese. It was about then that Xiuyang thought she saw something in Roslyn's eye, too, but she dismissed it as her own drunken eyes playing tricks on her. "Ah, I got one more," she replied, suddenly struck with inspiration. "How I made my first bit of coin: on the stock market, or betting on a fight?"

Roslyn poured another round and what she expected to be the last. She watched the liquid rise until it reached the rim then stopped. The lumpy apple had been joined by an oddly shaped circle and haphazardly striped bee. Mango and honey. She slid over Xiuyang's glass while she held her own.

"I wanna say stock market, but I'm going with the bet. I feel like if it is right, there's more to it."

"Sorry, but it's the stock market. That's my dad, right? Just what an eight-year-old girl wants to do." She gestured to try the cider too. "I did bet on fights though. Not much else to do while out at sea and the binders aren't working. Besides, if I lost, I could just cry until they gave me my money back." She grinned mischievously.

Roslyn tossed back her shot, letting it settle on her tongue. Her eyes widened in surprise at the subtle sweetness and tang in her mouth. She made a note to produce more for Maura to try and possibly circulate to the taverns. Maybe one or two jars for her zeno group at the end of the semester. "This one turned out rather well. Got a nice taste to it that isn't just apple flavor. "

She got herself another glass and leaned back. "Well, I guess life can't always be exciting. My childhood was playing in the fields, meadows, and woods. My nanny was frustrated because I managed to slip away whenever she turned her head. Mother said I told her I learned it from small folk in the valleys."

Xiuyang shrugged upon trying it. "I like the ones with more bite. If I want something sweet, I'll just get a juice." Still, she finished it. "The Rettanese have a saying—more like a curse, really: 'May you live in interesting times.' There's something to be said for the ordinary moments and well-worn paths through life. Then again, people always want what they don't have." She slouched back, her limbs spilling out of her chair in a very inelegant but equally 'Xiuyang' way. It drew attention to the fact that she was doing less of that, lately.

"With everything that's been happening lately, I'm definitely living in 'interesting' times." Roslyn exhaled, taking another drink. "There's some days I just want to scream or toss things."

Realizing she was dipping into unpleasant territory, the girl returned to the game. "Here's the last one. I sneaked out to the woods, only to get lost and barely made my way back home. Or I once kissed a boy beneath an apple tree before rushing home and blushing into my pillow."

Xiuyang smiled. "We all are, and no doubt." She tried her gourd again, and was able to get one little sip. "The second story sounds like something you'd do," she wagered.

"You should go a little easier on that gourd or I will need to haul you back to your dorm." Roslyn tilted her head, "You'll be surprised to learn that you're wrong. Everyone in town knew about the curse. Despite the respect my father's side had with the town, I think people were too scared of me passing it onto them. I did once catch a farmer boy sizing up my brother's ass though."

She held back a snicker at the memory. "Poor boy stumbled over his words when I mentioned it. I thought he was going to burrow into the hops field and pop up next spring."

Moving on to the next story, her expression relaxed and her tone became a bit more sober. "It was during the hours of Ipte that I got a stupid idea. If I 'disappeared' the day before I went to Ersand'Enise, they would send Garith instead. That plan didn't work out well. I started to get scared after a few hours." The girl took a breath and continued. "Then I heard a giggle and spotted something move out of sight. Suddenly, a small orb of light appeared a small distance ahead. I followed it until it disappeared. That's when my home came into view."

"I won't get drunk," Xiuyang replied matter-of-factly. For a long time, she used to think that it was impossible, but then she'd met Hill's Pond. She smiled at the memory, not allowing the incident that happened after to drag it down to oblivion.

She tried the cider, and nodded approvingly. Another excellent batch by star brewer Rose. "Woh." She blinked at the first story. "I thought the whole... you know. I thought that was a rich people thing," she said, referring to the boy with eyes on her brother. "Huh."

She nodded along soberly to the second story. "A real forest fairy story, huh? I did a similar thing, actually." If such a thing were possible, she slouched back even more lazily than before. "You're sworn to secrecy, but I didn't want to go to school. I wanted to keep traveling and doing business meeting stuff with my dad. Obviously, the life I wanted there was naive. I didn't have that much responsibility, so it was more like a permanent high-luxury vacation with my favorite person in the world. Which, to be honest... I still kinda want that." She smiled as she pictured sailing across the world with Ciro.

"So I got this funny little idea. If you want to learn binding magic, you have to build up a reputation as someone with trusthworthy morals and all that shit, right? So if I picked binding, I could put off school and we could keep doing our thing. It actually worked—kinda—but I did end up getting really interested in the Gift. So, I did end up going in the end, but it made it hard to fit in. First year, I made barely any friends aside from Ashon. I was both older and further ahead in my studies than most of the others. Girls were jealous, boys were intimidated, so I just focused on studying and making bank."

She had a sudden realization. "Girls, boys. Listen to me talking like we're still just kids going to school. With all the fucked-up shit that's happened, we should all be honorary adults." She tilted her head back, placed her gourd to her lips, and just left it there. She laid there like she had no intention of ever moving again, just soaking in the absurdity of her life. Then, slowly, she lowered the temporarily exhausted gourd. She *was* an adult, she reminded herself soberly. How the hell was *everyone else* coping?

"Nope, they have their preferred tastes as well. I felt sorry for him because I've only seen my brother flirt with women." Roslyn said, struggling not to giggle in her drink at Xiuyang's surprise. "Stuff like that is usually kept in the dark and not openly admitted to. Families need heirs to pass their legacy onto and you're not getting one that way."

The girl leaned forward, letting her arms fold underneath her. Any air of the modest and timid baroness she had, was lost now. When she caught Xiuyang mentioning they were adults, she smirked in amusement. She had done more than her father and grandfather combined, but she didn't feel like one.

"My lips are sealed with any and all secrets." She raised her arm and pressed her forefinger against her mouth in a hush gesture. Her fingers rotated her shot glass as she thought about something. "That sounds familiar, but I was more of a flower on the wall. Valerian was my savior during my first year." The girl sighed thinking of him and the fact he never returned to school. "Sadly, he withdrew from the school and I doubt we'll cross paths again. It's funny, I had a crush on him, but he's got better opportunities."

Her eyes turned to Xiuyang. "I'm happy to see most of my friends seem to have found people that love them. Despite all the messed up shit, you all deserve some happiness. "

"I~ knew it," Xiuyang drawled in an accusatory tone, pointing an accusatory finger, much as a drunkard ought. "You liked him! You just wouldn't admit it." She cracked a foxlike grin.

Roslyn gave her friend a raspberry before she added. "Of course not. I don't think a Marquess would waste time on a Baroness. Besides, he had a lot of girls swooning over him. Moment I said anything, I'm sure there would've been a knife in my back when I wasn't looking."

"Oh, don't I know it." Xiuyang slumped back down, nursing her gourd. "It's not *as* bad since we're both merchants, but you must know a load of harpies are wondering why a handsome specimen like Ciro is choosing to entertain a *'damaged flower'* like me." She puckered her lips rudely as she mimicked the snobby accent, along with an attempt to inhale and spit out some phlegm, which ended dry and unproductive.

Roslyn had made the mistake of taking a sip of her drink. When she spied the mockery display, she snorted and a burning sensation climbed up her nose. Her hand came up to stop herself from spewing her cider out. Midway between a laugh and a cough, she replied. "This might be a bit of a romantic take, but I think he looked beyond the surface and liked what he saw. Love doesn't always make sense. I learned that by watching my parents. Here's to love, hope, and a bright future."

She raised her drink for a toast.

Xiuyang cast an eye Roslyn's way, smiling knowingly to herself. Perhaps she was right. Or, perhaps it was because she had done everything in her power to make herself useful. A marriage between merchants was a practical matter, after all, before it was a romantic one—and since she had both, she was all the more eager to do everything she could to keep him—but that was a mouthful, and not very romantic. "You might say that," she agreed simply.

She reached, moving her glass toward Roslyn, but with her current posture it was impossible to reach. She feigned exasperation, sarcastically sitting up in her chair properly to meet her for a toast. "Cheers."

Prologue to Bog

Location and Date: Ersand'Enise, Velles ???

Lil' Bird,

When we broke into your last year's experiments, I realized how much I miss you. Especially, with the hops harvest coming around Ardanes and then brewing work to come. You will be happy to hear that Miss Mercador's contacts have arrived a few days ago. Even Garith was impressed. We're starting to expand our brew deliveries beyond the local towns, but its slow going.

I got word from the MakAndzey clan head that they are looking for a replacement and sent me a reminded we're still under contract. I fought back the urge to reply that we haven't broke it.

Now to touch on your earlier request, it is a yes. We would be delighted to receive you and any friend you bring for your next visit. I hope it will be soon.

Roslyn's eyes absorbed her father's sentiments in his latest letter. Her form slouched as she continued to read. Having grown up reading his writings, it didn't take her long to decipher his chicken scratch. Brewers weren't known for their elegant writings after all.

While cleaning up one of the studies, Esther found a wobbly floor board. I had to pry it open and found a stack of papers within. Such an odd place to hide them, isn't it? I read through them before realizing the handwriting belonged to your mother. They were written around the time she attended Ersand'Enise.

Her eyes tightened, her form straightening up at the shift in tone of the letter.

I've never known your mother to write tales of fancy. She didn't enjoy reading fiction, but I find it hard to believe what she wrote wasn't the truth. Garith suggested sending it to you along with the next shipment. I pray you stay safe.

Roslyn set the letter down then turned to the small parcel. A small collection of papers were neatly tied up and wedged in the center of the bottles. She cautiously removed it then began to read.

---

Other Scenes

Lies Hidden in the Blood

Place: Palapar within the Agha family residence
Time: 13th of Velles, DZ38 ( 17 years ago)

Selim's eyes drank in the Darhannic wall shrine before him. At the center stood Vashdal, both the masculine and feminine forms locked in embrace. His arm wrapped loosely about the small of her back while hers rested across his neck. Their faces turned down at the world disc held against their navels. Despite the direction of their gaze, their eyes stayed closed and deep in slumber. Their long robes defied gravity while it flowed about them on the wall.

The healer's gaze lingered to admire the sculptor's efforts. Somehow, he managed to capture divinity in stone. With a deep breath, Selim folded his hands against the floor and bowed his head against them. Before his prayer began, the doors slammed open. Footsteps approached him rapidly. A voice boomed an accusation at him. "They learned about her from you, didn't they? Answer me!"

Selim took a breath then straightened up. His face turned to the man and they locked gazes. "Yes." He said boldly.

The elite's fury rolled off him as his hand slapped Selim's face. The force sent the healer to his side as every servant and slave flinched. Selim held his hand to his split cheek. He didn't dare make eye contact again or mend the cut. Ruslan loomed over him. "Why? All you had to do was follow instructions and I would arrange the rest. Instead, you sent a letter about them." He held his index finger up to emphasis his point. "Now, her family's eyes are on us..."

He trailed off, but Selim didn't need to know the rest. He already knew what would happen if one of the children died prematurely. Dalma's family would investigate, discover the ruse, and leave Ruslan in disgrace. Her family didn't take kindly to trickery of any sort. Silently, Selim sent up his gratitude to Oraff and Shune for their aid in his small gamble. Without their blessings, it wouldn't have succeeded.

The heat between them hit its peak before it fell into a subtle tension. Ruslan drew in the light then sterilized his hand. After collecting himself, he spoke again. "Despite what you believe, this was not mercy. Death would've been a better fate for her. You'll realize that in time."

Leaving behind those ominous words, Ruslan departed.