As the Story Crumbles

[ArtisticVicu]

Wayward Souls at Halftrot Inn

Many grand adventures begin in a tavern or inn, or some place where unlikely paths cross and companions are found.

The Halftrot Inn is one such place, filled with an eclectic assortment of guests and staff that make any wayward soul's stay pleasant. Or, at least, it should be. This time, though, the Halftrot Inn finds itself tangled in the adventuring that usually stopped at its doors. Two of its guests go missing and while it's not hard to figure out how or why, it is left to a ragtag company of smaller companies to not only find but rescue the two missing guests without risking the lives of those that help them along the way.

Spoiler: Chapter 1: Niko’s Visions 

Halftrot Inn was never truly still no matter what time it was. Granted, three o’clock in the morning was far quieter than three in the afternoon but there was always someone at the front desk doing something and at least two other staff members working somewhere on the property.

Niko loved those early morning hours. Not because of the quiet - oh Gods, no; she lived for the noise and bustle of the day and the secrets and information that slipped through it - but because of the occasional body that wasn’t supposed to be up at those hours. It wasn’t very often someone bustled in from outside too early in the morning to be considered normal - or unconcerning - and it was even less common for someone to leave, but it happened. It always happened.

The clock had just chimed the quarter hour past four when the front door opened. She stilled her hand, pen lifted from the page to not blot the ledger. Two individuals entered before the door was shut with some care, soft chatter drifting between them. Niko placed the pen off to the side and offered the pair a welcoming smile. “Welcome to the Halftron Inn. What can I do for you?”

The shorter of the two stepped forward, lowering their hood with a smile. White fur dominated the stranger’s features, though red tabby fur covered the top of the head and feline ears. The tabby patch created a sharp white point between the ears high on the stranger’s head and cut crisply down to the temples only to become a soft curve towards the back. The fur around the throat starting under the chin and continuing down into the collar of the stranger’s attire was semi-long and spilled out around the stranger’s neck like a fluffy scarf. “Good morning. Do you happen to have any rooms available that can fit three?”

Niko fished out another book. Something seemed oddly familiar about the feline stranger. Most of her attention was on gleaning as much detail of the pair as she could while she went through the motions of checking the strangers in, rattling off the current options and answering their assortment of questions. The taller of the pair never pushed back their hood so if there had been any hints to why the feline was familiar, it wasn’t going to be found with the hooded one.

No, her clue came when Tavey Folt, the Halftrot Inn’s resident dragonborn came around the corner from the stables and staff quarters corridor with arms laden with a few saddle bags and escorting an aviary. More specifically a kenku - named Kenku, apparently, if she hadn’t misinterpreted the hooded figure’s wording - and the realization dawned on her. Her gaze returned to the feline as she kept the realization to herself.

Without seeing what lay hidden beneath clothing, the feline looked exactly like the cat from her dreams; specifically, the less than normal dreams she had been having for the past few weeks.

She refused to entertain the idea that those specific dreams were visions. Stuff like that was made up hogwash to scam people with. She had seen it plenty of times on the streets of people pawned out of coin by a fake fortune or vision of the future. Intuition and instinct were only marginally believable. Niko wasn’t unfamiliar with instinct; it drove even the kindest of souls to kill when cornered just as it drove breath into lungs without thought. Intuition was something else. Intuition was being able to tell when a trap was more than a harmless joke, or when there were no obvious reason to actually distrust the shopkeep yet the drive to leave without looking back can’t be ignored. Intuition was narrowly avoiding getting picked up by people looking to earn a good bit of cash in the Underground Market because a different path home was taken on a whim. Niko was familiar with those things but even then she was certain it was more coincidence than actual forces at work.

And yet she was hesitant to simply label the dreams as nothing more than weird, repeating dreams. Whether that was because of something like instinct urging her not to or if it was some sort of logical conclusion she had unconsciously come to, Niko simply knew when to pay attention and when to brush a dream off.

If the not-dreams had been actual visions of the future, of possibilities, maybe it would have been easier for her to accept something like Futuresight being the cause and a legitimate thing. But no. The not-dreams were cryptic imagery that never really made sense until some missing bit of information was brought to her attention, oftentimes in the form of whoever was involved. On top of that, they were usually far and few between; the last one had been a single not-dream with no repeats two years prior and it had ended a three year streak of no not-dreams.

Her dreams - regardless if they were normal or not - were always complex with a touch of bizarre but they never left her feeling off kilter and never grew more vivid if they did repeat on the rare occasion; and no repeat was ever a true reiteration of the original. The not-dreams never changed no matter how many times they repeated. They would start out fuzzy and hard to remember but with each repeat, the not-dreams became clearer and clearer as if the images were imprinting themselves into her memory. Each time she woke from one, she was left feeling out of place for a long while and it only got worse as the not-dreams grew clearer.

Even now as she exchanged a room key for the hooded figure’s coin, the not-dream was filling her head so clearly, it almost obscured her sight.

The not-dream had been simple enough: a white cat with red tabby markings on its head and down part of its back was carrying a little black bird by the scruff of the neck as if it was a kitten. The red furred, long-haired tail was held straight and high as the cat trotted on three legs along the sandy shores of some body of water; the cat’s right leg was missing at the knee yet it walked as if it still existed. The little black bird was curled as a kitten would have been but instead of simply hanging from the cat’s mouth, the little black bird was curled around a tiny humanoid figure and seemed quite content with doing so. The tiny humanoid was chest to chest with the little black bird and hung limp so that lanky limbs dangled past the little black bird’s body and swayed with the motions of the cat’s walk.

Where the cat and little black bird looked forward and quite content, the humanoid looked back, chin resting on what counted as the little black bird’s shoulder with a tired gaze locked onto the mass of shadows that kept pace not far behind the cat. A thin strip of shadow stretched from the mass along the ground at the cat’s feet only to behave in a way that she had never seen shadow behave.

Near the cat’s front paws, the strip of shadow stretched up from the sand and was firmly wrapped around the humanoid’s right wrist. She could never figure out if the shadow held on like a hand or a manacle but the hold always looked unbreakable.

When she first had the not-dream, there had been the vague impression of a cat carrying something that wasn’t a kitten around like a kitten and it had bugged her for a good hour or two. She didn’t even notice the humanoid until about the time both cat and little black bird had become distinct against the sandy beach. It wasn’t until the most recent repeat that she had been able to see the mass of shadows. It had taken that same repeat for her to notice that the cat was well aware of something following it.

As the trio left, she wondered after the hooded figure. Were they the humanoid from the not-dream? She was rather tempted to assume they were but she knew things weren’t always as clear cut as she first assumed.

Not that the current not-dream on her mind was a good example of it. It seemed pretty straight forward to her. The humanoid was being followed, and knew it, but was doing nothing to keep the little black bird and the cat out of it. Though that probably wasn’t from a lack of trying; the little black bird had been wrapped around the humanoid and the cat had been carrying them both. But the fact that the cat was the only other one to be blatantly aware of what haunted the humanoid’s trail seemed weird. Surely the little black bird knew what was after them.

Or was it being sheltered from it?

The only answer Niko got in the days that followed was that, yes, the hooded figure had indeed been the humanoid in the not-dream. The trio had booked their room for a week and on their first day of stay, quickly showed their worth by entertaining the dining room for a good many hours. The feline - a tabaxi named Talley Oaken - was no bard but played the hurdy-gurdy as well as any bard Niko had met, though the instrument itself was new to Niko. The music ranged from energetic and uplifting to morrose and drawn out but it was all greeted with applause from those in the dining room.

Kenku was something different entirely. Niko had heard rumors that kenku only spoke in mimicry but she had never met one before to learn if that was true or not. It had sounded as if it would be a very limiting thing. Oh, how Kenku proved her wrong.

Kenku and the hooded figure - a moon elf that went by Ravis that refused to give his full name after Talley had confirmed ‘Ravis’ was only a nickname - had joined Talley on the little stage in the corner of the dining room that first performance. Ravis had looked rather uncomfortable up there and had merely patted out a beat on the inn’s spare drum. It was clear he had never learned to properly play but he was good enough to keep a steady beat. Kenku, as a stark contrast, seemed quite content being up on stage with Talley and happily stood at her side as she settled center stage. The first song started with Talley’s first few notes and then Kenku opened its beak.

The entire place was shocked when the notes of a church organ became accompaniment to the hurdy-gurdy, the consistent beat of a drum tolling just underneath. Neither Talley nor Ravis reacted to the sound so it was apparent the trio had done this before but to have someone vocalize the exact sounds of a church organ - including multiple notes overlapping - was disarming. Her Pa informed her the second night that the sounds of the organ weren’t exactly perfect seeing as he himself could tell it was only mimicry long before he had entered the room but Kenku was good enough to fool the masses and even some of those who had better ears than most.

Niko was not surprised to find her Gramp and Gran speaking with Talley and Ravis the third day of the trio’s stay as she arrived at the front desk for her shift. Of the words she caught, her Gramp and Gran were finalizing a short term contract with the trio that included a discount to room and food if they continued to entertain as well as pay. It was the standard stuff; she had walked bards through the same exact contract when they inquired about work for room and board. They even catered a similar contract to those looking for other work; extra hands in the stables, kitchen, and housekeeping were always welcomed.

On the fifth day of the trio’s stay, the front doors swung open to familiar faces. With only a few hours before midnight, she and her Gramp were going over the books for the shift exchange. Her Gramp looked up and immediately greeted the familiar faces by name as he made his way out from behind the front desk. “Terrel Lambrax! Good to see you, old friend! Good to see you in good health, Emrynth.”

“Kole, my friend!” Terrel called out, grinning broadly. “It has been too long!” The pair hugged, a mildly amusing sight seeing as her dwarven Gramp was almost half the height of the human he was hugging. Neither seemed to notice or care about the height difference as they roughly hugged each other before her Gramp turned to Emrynth.

Emrynth gave her Gramp a genial smile as their hug was much more sedated. “How are June and the twins?”

“June’s still the same spitfire I fell in love with all those years ago,” her Gramp assured. “Brax and Kelsca are taking care of their families as Stormshields do. Brax is still looking to taking over once me and Junebug retire.”

“That’s good to hear!” Terrel said. “Brax around now? I have some goods he might be interested in.”

“He should be in the kitchen.”

Terrel nodded and left for the kitchen through the dining room. Her Gramp turned to Emrynth and returned to business, asking, “How many rooms are you looking to use and for how long?” The front door opened again. “Is it just the two with you this time?”

At least two other bodies entered behind the small cluster at the door but Emrynth and the two others standing with her blocked Niko’s view.

Emrynth glanced back in surprise before smiling. “Not quite. We have two others as part of our company but they went with your stable staff to help with the carts and animals.” Emrynth turned to properly look at one of the new arrivals. “Are you still looking to continue on with us?”

“It will solely depend on how long your business takes and the weather fairs,” someone said. The voice was kind, cordial, but there was a crispness to them that edged the words in contempt.

Someone else added with a grin on their words, “We can manage our own rooms, though. No need to include us in your plans.”

Her Gramp cut in before Emrynth could comment. “Let’s get started with checking you all in. There will be plenty of time to debate who is paying for who and for how long as we wait for your other two.” Her Gramp returned to the front desk, focusing on her for a moment. “I’ve got this one, Niko, if you want to go check in with your father and Terrel.”

Niko shook her head. “I’ll stay in case we have any other guests come in.”

She didn’t realize she had erred until she caught how his lips pressed thin for the briefest of moments. He had been dismissing her but, for whatever reason, he wasn’t going to force her. She wasn’t sure why he wanted her to leave but she knew better than to look as if she was trying to eavesdrop.

She grabbed the bank ledger with the intent of doing work she would have normally saved for later in her shift but when she glanced over the group one last time, it was immediately apparent she would not be able to focus on anything, let alone the conversation.

Two tieflings, one mere inches taller than the other, stepped around Emrynth’s two companions. The taller came into view first, blue skin the same dark, rich color of the blue velvet she had seen in the very expensive clothing shop in town. The taller’s horns reminded her of cow horns with their smooth texture and how they came to a sharp point but that was the extent of the resemblance. The horns came from the back of the tiefling’s head and curled forward, mimicking the curve of the back of the skull until straightening out at the top of the head and ending at the front of the face. The points were situated directly above the point of the tiefling’s eyebrow.

In contrast, the shorter tiefling had skin a pink Niko couldn’t exactly describe. It was as if someone had blended the purest pink with a pink a shade or two redder and the pigments only increased the pinkness of the color rather than the purest pink taking on the redder shade. It was startlingly bright without being the same startlingly bright as pale skin could be. On top of that, the shorter had two sets of horns compared to the taller’s single set. The larger of the sets started at either side of the shorter’s head and went back to corkscrew downwards twice. The set was ridged in a way that spoke of the same rings she had seen on the horns of rams. The smaller of the sets sat at the top of the shorter tiefling’s forehead probably at the hairline directly above the center of the eyes.

Beyond those two major differences, the two could have easily passed as siblings. They both had the same thick, curly black hair that filled the space between skull and horns like clouds being lazily contained. Their eyes were similar in shape and black sclera but the shades of their irises were a touch different; the taller had irises that could have easily been a combination of blue, green, and gray where the shorter had irises of a more silver blue. Still, close enough to pass as siblings.

As soon as the shorter tiefling had stepped into view after the taller, a not-dream rushed her. Strangely enough, it was the only one that had never really given her any details.

The figure in the not-dream never became more than a form made of shadow but she was always left with the impression that the shadow figure was rather dapper. The not-dream always started with the dapper shadow figure finishing crafting what looked to be an oddly rounded glowing cup with a jewel or precious stone set into one of the faces. The dapper shadow figure would admire the handiwork, turning it this way and that and viewing it from different angles only to be startled upon finding a red string tied to the glowing cup. The red string was striking in the dark environment and against the dapper shadow figure’s form but that never seemed to be what the dapper shadow figure cared about. No, the dapper shadow figure would always tug on the string as if the string would come free with a good yank but it never did. When it became clear it was not coming off, the dapper shadow figure would start to follow the red string, protectively cradling the cup close to the chest. The cup, ever glowing and now floating, would hover just above the dapper shadow figure’s palm as the dapper shadow figure’s curled fingers kept the glowing cup from floating away.

The red string always led to a very detailed pile of random things, from a fishing rod, a half finished shirt, and well worn shoes to a pile of candies and rocks, a feather, poppy flower, and the massive shell of some sort of turtle. To her, it looked like a pile of odds and ends with no real purpose - a pile of knick knacks at best, rubbish at most - but the red string led into the pile and the dapper shadow figure would move things out of the way to follow it deep into the pile. The red string always led to a band of metal that could have been a ring or a bracelet. In one of the faces was the same stone as the glowing cup had embedded in one face. Unlike the glowing cup, the band of metal wasn’t glowing.

The not-dream always ended as the dapper shadow figure picked the band of metal up. There was no expression for her to see but she was left with the impression that the dapper shadow figure didn’t quite know what to do with the new discovery. Beyond that, she had never really understood the significance around the two objects and the red string connecting them. Even now as she came face to face with the two tieflings for a brief moment she wasn’t sure she understood it any better but she had learned something upon seeing them.

For whatever reason, those objects represented the two before her and somehow they were connected.

Or had been connected.

A second not-dream waited until her thoughts slowed their tumbling over the first not-dream but the time between the two was far less than she cared for.

All she had done was habitually glance over the gathered persons at the front desk. The two tieflings and Emrynth were right at the edge, both tieflings leaning against it while Emrynth remained standing tall. The two that had entered with Emrynth were still near the door as if to give those at the front desk some space. A third person, though, was standing within reaching distance of the two tieflings like a shadow. She had seen the person trail behind the tieflings as they had first approached the front desk but what she had missed was the small shield on the person’s left forearm that was now predominantly on display at the person’s chest where their arms were crossed.

It had never dawned on her to connect two not-dreams until she had seen the person’s shield. The second not-dream had been of an indistinct figure steadily trudging through a thigh high substance; the only discernible detail had been the shield on the left forearm. As the figure trudged on, each hand held onto a rope that led to a gem larger than the shield floating along behind the figure. The gem at the end of the rope in the figure’s right hand was softly glowing while the gem at the end of the rope in the figure’s left wasn’t. Beyond that, the gems looked identical in cut and color as if made from the same material. There was nothing to say why only one glowed and the other didn’t.

With the two not-dreams now very vivid in her mind, she now understood what that second not-dream had been implying. The person behind the two tieflings was the only reason those two tieflings were even interacting. She still didn’t understand the significance of the cup and band of metal but she knew that the tieflings had been represented not by the objects but by the stones embedded in them. And, for whatever reason, the person standing behind them was willing to keep them together even through whatever it was the person was trudging through.

Though not knowing why one stone was glowing and one was not made her nervous.

The person behind the tieflings met her gaze a moment before her Gramp placed a hand on her shoulder, startling her. His touch pulled her gaze from the person and she was left to suppress a shudder. She felt oddly cold. “Niko? Are you feeling ok, sweetheart?”

She nodded; the motion brought her attention to the headache blooming at the center of her skull. “Yeah, I’m ok, Gramp. Must have let my thoughts wander too far.”

Again she caught the thinning of his lips. He was letting it be as she said despite not believing her and it left her almost as uncomfortable as when he had been disappointed that she hadn’t recognized the dismissal for what it had been. Still, he surprised her with a gentle, “Alright, then. I’ll be here for another hour yet so don’t feel like you’re stuck here.”

She knew it wasn’t what he had wanted to say - his eyebrows hadn’t let up their furrow - but it seemed enough to soothe some of the worry out of the lines on his aged face and he turned back to his discussion with Emrynth and the two tieflings. The conversation was coming to a close as Emrynth and the taller tiefling were taking their respective keys from her Gramp when chatter drifted from the staff corridor that led to the stables. Niko immediately recognized one of the voices and straightened, the barely touched bank ledger abandoned and forgotten.

Her Pa stepped around the corner accompanied by Tavey and two strangers. Tavey was bringing up the rear carrying quite a few bags. Her Pa was carrying a similar amount while the remaining strangers had a bag each.

Niko was not prepared for the third not-dream to overtake her. Whether it was from the force of the third not-dream shoving itself at her or from it being the third consecutive not-dream in less than an hour, Niko faltered under the onslaught and was swallowed by the sharp details of the most potent of the not-dreams she had been having once again.

A storm raged against the town yet neither the Halftrot Inn nor the buildings of the town shuddered under its force. Niko stood in the middle of the abandoned round where the main east-west road terminated at the middle of the main north-south road being battered relentlessly by the storm. She couldn’t fill her lungs with enough air. The rain was coming down so hard, every inhale was watery, yet every exhale seemed to only give the wind more opportunity to pull even more air from her lungs. She tried to move towards the safety of the Halftrot Inn but when she turned towards home, she found herself down some alleyway she knew she should have recognized. Yet when she turned to try and walk it, she was back at the center of the round with her back to City Hall facing the east-west road cutting through the town ahead of her.

Each time she tried to go home, she found herself someplace in town that should have been familiar but wasn’t. Over and over she tried until she couldn’t even remember where home was. Was it to the right, or the left?

Or was it dead ahead?

The first step forward didn’t throw her into some random part of town and she felt like weeping. She moved to sprint down the road before her eager to be out of the storm but something slammed into the back of her neck and cut into the tops of her shoulders, snapping her face down towards the mud.

Her face hit wood instead and her blood ran cold as it felt like every hair on her body stood on end. She shoved herself upright but there seemed to be no strength in her arms and it took far too much effort to even manage to get to her knees and elbows.

A massive chain was haphazardly draped beneath her hanging from something around her neck. Her arm took her full weight with ease, though she couldn’t remember getting from her elbows to her hands, and she tugged at a thick, heavy metal collar that was too tight around her neck. She made to scream but she couldn’t get her voice to work.

She stumbled upright suddenly finding strength back in her limps and she tried to get away from the length of chain. It snapped taut when she stood straight.

There was nowhere for her to go.

She tried screaming again. Her voice was there - she could feel it - but the wind and rain was in her face again stealing her breath and her scream. It wasn’t fair. In a fit of anger, she grabbed at the chain and started yanking against it with all her might. She would get free even if she had to do it on her own.

She didn’t realize the storm had stopped until something fluttered past the left side of her vision. She whipped her head around, gripping at the chain as if it would protect her.

A bird of a beautiful blue with wings and long, deeply forked tail edged in a faded black was laid out on its stomach far beyond her limited reach. It was impossible to tell if the bird was injured or not but a part of her was saying it didn’t matter. What mattered was the danger they were both in and she had to get to it before something else did. She tried reaching for it anyway, struggling against the chain that bound her in place. A startled scream escaped her as the chain yanked her towards the ground seeming to shrink of its own accord. Stuck now on her knees, she looked back towards the bird.

Every hair on her body stood on end as it felt like tiny pinpricks raced across her spine and the back of her skull. Two humanoids with weapons in hand were approaching the bird. They reached down and grabbed the bird by a wing and pulled it up; the bird was easily half as tall as either humanoid. The two humanoids turned and started to drag the bird away. She screamed after them to let the bird go but she couldn’t get her throat to work. No matter how hard she tried to scream it was like she had no voice.

It wasn’t sound and it wasn’t movement that drew her gaze from the bird being taken away; it was the absence absence.

The storm was gone. The town was gone. She existed in an emptiness that was completely dark save for the ground she knelt on and the chain she still gripped tightly. The ground she was on was illuminated as if it had some sort of internal light source that was muted in a way that reminded her of sunlight through a bed sheet. The patch of illuminated ground was a rather good sized circle much like the round before City Hall.

A path of the same illuminated ground stretched towards where the bird was being dragged away but the path had faded out of existence barely paces from the circle she was at the center of. Three other illuminated paths came into existence, one at each remaining cardinal direction. The one opposite of the faded path now behind her ended at a point a good distance from the edge of the circle and a pale humanoid with shadows clinging to its body stood at the center of the path, a cat missing part of its back right leg standing on the humanoid’s shoulders.

At the center of the path to her right stood a figure with a rope in each hand that was as short as the chain Niko was still clinging to. At the end of each rope was a gem of identical cut and color with the bottom most edge dragging in the dirt. Only the gem hanging from the figure’s right hand glowed. A shield on the figure’s left forearm reflected the glow of the path beneath the figure’s feet.

At the center of the path to her left stood a creature that looked like a deer but was not any kind of deer she had ever seen. For one, the creature was much larger and for another, the antlers didn’t look right. There was a bend to them that curved the overall shape inward more than what she was used to seeing. Caught in the center of the antlers floating about the creature’s head was a ball of fire, flames flickering off the top of it as if someone had put a campfire in a high rimmed bowl and made the bowl invisible. The fire spluttered as the creature lowered its head as if to bow to her.

The humanoid before her stepped forward first but the creature to her left and the figure to her right matched it pase for pase before all of them came to a stop at the boundary of the circle she was in. The humanoid raised its right hand, the figure its left, and both presented her with a familiar looking blue feather. The fire in the creature’s antlers sparked and popped before spitting a feather skyward undamaged from being within the flames. Somehow the feather stayed aloft over the flickering flames.

She didn’t remember getting to her feet, let alone having any slack, so when she turned to look towards where the bird had been, when she took a step with that motion, the jerk of the chain shrinking startled her. She immediately turned back around and gripped at the chain with both hands but it didn’t shrink anymore. There was no slack now but she wasn’t being forced to her knees.

The feathers had yet to be lowered.

Her hands tightened on the chain. If she told them, there was the chance the chain would yank her to her knees. But she couldn’t go after the bird; that was certain to pin her to the ground with no chain to even sit up with. She didn’t want to be chained down like that; she feared what would happen if she ever was.

Turning her body so that it faced the figure with the gems, she pointed towards where the bird’s path had been as she painfully gripped the chain with her other hand. The chain started to shrink but her gesture seemed to break whatever spell had kept the others out of the circle. In an instant the circle was invaded and the chain was shattered by one of them - the flurry of movement around her made it impossible for her to track who it had been - before they all took off down the path that was no longer illuminated.

The weight of the collar was still heavy around her neck.

“Niko.” It was her Pa’s voice, low and gentle as it always was, but she could hear the note of worry in it. His massive hand stroked the side of her head and she wondered if that was the first time he had done it or the fifth. “Come on, little one. Back awake. You can do it.”

It took a good few seconds for her to get her eyes open and a good few more for her brain to make sense of what she was seeing. As soon as the amorphous blobs of color and light became shapes and people, she immediately knew where she was and what had happened.

The splitting headache was downright excessive.

“Pa,” she said. Or tried to say, as the simple word caught in her throat as a croak and she made a face at its lack of form. She swallowed and tried again. “I’m ok, Pa.” Her voice wavered but the words were actual words and not just half formed sounds. “I’m alright now.”

Relief quickly filled her Pa’s face and it pulled a gentle smile to his ever gentle expression. “As you say, but I think it best if you are in bed for the night.”

“I can work around a headache, Pa,” she tried to reason but he was already scooping her into his massive arms. She didn’t fight him as the motion exasperated her headache.

“You can,” he agreed, “but there is no need for you to. One night resting will not cause harm to the inn.”

“You say that,” a very familiar voice said, drawing both her and her Pa’s attention towards the dining room. Her Da was jogging over already nearly to their sides when he spoke again. “And yet you’ve seen what she’s capable of when left to her own devices at the hand of boredom.”

Her Pa chuckled, a rolling rumble she felt in her bones tucked against his chest as she was. “I will take blame should she do such things. More, though, is my faith that sleep is much more desired. Headache tonics are best when they bring sleep with the relief.”

Her Da met her gaze immediately. “You have a headache?” His hands - smaller than her Pa’s but still large in their own right and still properly bigger than her own - cupped her face before slipping into her hair carefully searching for tenderness. “Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?”

“If she is hurt somewhere, it won’t be on her head.” The taller tiefling offered a half smile as everyone’s attention fell onto them. “I managed to at least catch her head before it hit the floor but I can’t say the same thing for the rest of her. I figured a bruised wrist would have been preferred over a head injury.”

Her Da nodded. “Thank you.”

It was a complete statement but the tiefling still grinned and happily offered, “Swift.”

To Niko, it seemed like an odd sort of response, but her Da understood and gave a nod. “Thank you, Swift. You have our gratitude.” Her Da’s hands left her head and she fought down the urge to grab after them, to keep them close. Her Da turned his attention to her Pa. “Get her to bed; I’ll help make sure things get squared away as you do.”

Her Pa bent down and pressed a kiss into her Da’s head, muttering something in Orcish that was too garbled for her to understand. Her Da responded in kind; despite his words being a touch clearer, it still sounded like garbled Orcish to her ears.

Her Pa was quiet as he carried her down the staff corridor. Before she knew it she was being placed on her bed and tucked in tight. Her Pa stroked her hair as he said, “I will retrieve the tonic and return. Remain resting until then.”

“I will, Pa. Promise.”

He kissed her forehead, one that lingered for a good moment before he stepped out and closed her door behind him.

Despite past habits, she had no desire to move from under the covers. The headache had been agitated by every small movement her Pa and Da had made with her and not moving brought blessed relief she knew would only be aided by the tonic her Pa was fetching.

On top of that, her mind immediately returned to the not-dream she had just relived. She shuddered at having to relive it after the last time it had happened. It had wrecked her for an entire week and there was no telling how long it would haunt her now. She hadn’t needed to be told what it had meant in the end. It had been very clear with its message the first time the not-dream had invaded her sleep.

If she tried to go after the one captured, she would suffer the same fate, if not worse. Even pointing others in the right direction wouldn’t completely erase that possibility.

She shuddered again. The fact that it was an aarakocra at the center of it all was unsurprising. She knew too well that anything counted as exotic would gain a pretty coin in the Black Market and an aarakocra that wasn’t the standard variations of the region definitely counted as exotic.

So did kenku, now that she thought about it. There had never been a kenku in town and that in turn would mean that Kenku was just as likely to get snatched if not more so since people had actually seen Kenku performing on stage. It would only be a matter of when before someone made the first attempt. Hopefully the trio never truly separated and it would keep any attempts from succeeding.

She couldn’t remember where the little black bird that had represented Kenku had been in the not-dream. She was certain it hadn’t been with the humanoid and cat but that only left far too few other options.

Her Pa knocked gently on the door before entering, disrupting her thoughts for a moment. He smiled gently as he returned to her side. “I will assist in your taking of the tonic so be patient and do not rush movement.”

“Ok,” she said simply.

The headache had become a manageable thrum in her temples during her Pa’s absence but it flared anew when his hand slipped under her back and slowly propped her upright. The tonic was bitter on her tongue and tasted equally horrible. She grimaced at the taste. Her Pa exchanged the tonic vial for the glass of water on the bedside table. She greedily drank down the cool water to wash the aftertaste away.

“May you have good rest,” her Pa said softly once she was tucked back into bed. He kissed her forehead again. “Sleep well, little one.”

“Good night, Pa. Love you.”

“I love you as well.”

The door clicked shut behind him and she sank into the darkness of her room. For a brief moment she wondered after why she had collapsed. Whether it had been a toll on the body, the mind, or some outside factor she would probably never know but she knew one thing.

There was one last not-dream unexplained which meant there was one last person to meet before she was left with simply point the direction.

That person arrived two days later.

Well, two days wasn’t completely accurate. Though it was technically the second day, it was barely an hour into it when the front doors opened and two strangers entered the inn. Niko, back at the front desk as if nothing had happened, looked up from the papers she had been sorting. Both figures were heavily cloaked against the raging storm beyond the inn’s walls but still looked completely drenched. She smiled and welcomed the two warmly. “Welcome to the Halftron Inn. What can I do for you?”

The shorter of the two by almost a head stepped up to the front desk first, lowering the sodden hood with some care. “Do you have any rooms available? Two beds would be preferred but we can make do with whatever is available.”

“Sure, let me check. Would you prefer the first floor or second?”

“Depends,” the taller said, coming to stand behind the shorter’s left shoulder. “What do you have available?”

She had just flipped the ledger to the right page when the taller figure pushed a surprisingly less sodden hood back.

The last not-dream finally made sense.

It was a good thing she was quite used to going through the motions without needing all of her attention on what she was saying or doing because her thoughts were very much not on what she was doing. Her heart was thudding against her chest as she rolled the sudden information around in her head. The fact that the strange deer creature with the fire between its antlers had represented not one but two people she could get over but the onslaught of everything else was taking a hot second longer for her to accept.

The not-dream had been the simplest, most cryptic not-dream out of all of them; even the figure trudging through the thigh high substance had a clear message without the specifics.

The odd deer with the fire among the points of its antlers never moved in the not-dream. It stood stock still in the middle of a snowy forest whose canopy was ablaze. That was it. That was the not-dream; and until two days ago, she hadn’t really accounted for it being more than a really weird dream, it being a not-dream notwithstanding. When it became clear it was a not-dream, she had assumed it was about one person, that the weird fire deer would make sense once she met that strange someone. But no, the deer and the fire were completely different and the fact that the snow on the forest floor appeared unaffected by the fire raging in the canopy had indeed been significant.

Whoever these two were, one of them was set to burn everything in their path for a single goal, including burning themself out in the process. The one represented by the odd deer was untroubled by the other’s fervent nature. They stood steadfast under the flame and was the reason the flame was still managing to only burn what they intended to burn. She had no idea if the fire was literal or not but it made sense thinking back on it now that she knew the fire and the odd deer were two different people.

She waved after the pair as they started for the stairs towards the second floor. They fell into Dwarvish as they walked away but they kept their voices down so she couldn’t hear any of their words.

It seemed only time would tell which was which and just how literal that fire was.

Spoiler: Chapter 2: Ilravis's Deceit 

The soil was hard beneath his thin shoes as if the rain that had drowned the world the day before hadn’t happened. Even the flash flood that had been brought on by the previous day’s torrential downpour had only left a veneer of clay mud clinging to the remnants of buildings and marked where the waterline had reached on the trees. The mud squelched beneath each step and clung incessantly to anything it touched. Those unfortunate enough to fall in it wore the mud like a second skin. It clung to his legs high on his thighs and plastered his pants awkwardly to his skin. Either the plaster-like clay itself was cold or it was making his pants increasingly damp and he hated it.

Laughter rang out from what remained of a building to his left and habitually he glanced over. If there had been a second floor, it had been obliterated right along with the rest of the town. Most of the walls were under half of their original height, the shortest points being on the street facing walls; only the back corner still retained the original wall height. There was an interior room still clearly marked by walls in that corner and lacked only the roof. The walls were not quite tall enough to hide who was scavenging within. He could make out the top of two heads and the face of a third. The third laughed again and he turned his gaze away. He had no intention of dealing with those three at all if he could help it.

It disgusted him how they and countless others found joy in the carnage around them. He had long since gotten used to the work but that didn’t mean the memories of his own homes being ransacked in an all too similar way didn’t curl through him like a venom slowly destroying anything good left within him. He had no doubt that he would one day feel that same satisfaction of a good raid if he stayed under their thumb and it only made his disgust grow even greater.

“Hey, Ilravis!”

It was easy to pull indifference across his expression as he turned his attention to the church just ahead of him. Somehow it hadn’t been destroyed beyond recognition, a rarity after a raid. Usually the only thing remaining of any building was the basement and a vague impression of the first floor’s layout.

Someone on the steps was waving at him and it felt like his blood had suddenly turned to ice.

“Come over here!”

Obediently - despite the shout not being a direct order - he changed his path to start for the church’s steps. The cluster of people on the front steps ebbed and flowed and chatted as he approached and he caught snippets of the last of the conversation as a few hurried off to pillage other remains. The one that had called for him grinned at him after a fashion, the lit torch in hand barely casting any light in the midday sun. “Hey, we’re about finished wrapping up here but none of my boys want to get their hands dirty robbing a church.” The grin grew sharper. “Do me a solid and go find the coffers. You make it out before the church burns down completely and I’ll put in a good word to my grandfather. What do you say?”

It was easy to keep his expression impassive, just as it was easy for him to give a single nod before entering. Giving a verbal response, though, was out of the question. Already the bands around his wrist were chafing. He didn’t need to add the magical effects to the reminder that he would never be one of them.

The door closed behind him with a resounding thud. The atrium was dark for the most part. The window to the left of the door was shattered while the rest of the windows were still tightly shuttered. The gales of laughter flowed in through the broken window and the vague sounds of some sort of conversation followed after it.

It was cooler, almost cold standing inside the atrium. Sunlight spilled into the chapel ahead of him filling it with beautiful light. He could make out the soft shade changes in the altar cloth from where he stood. The cloth had been deliberately dyed an ombre that faded from the softest of creams into the softest lilac he had ever seen. It would have been hard to make out if it wasn’t for the stream of sunlight on the altar coming through a paneless stained glass window. The rest of the chapel was speckled in multihued streams of light where the colored glass still held tight to its frame. It left the whole space looking ethereal in a bizarre, dreamlike way.

He stepped away from the door as shouts for others warned him that he wasn’t going to have much time.

The chapel was surprisingly warmer than the atrium but he guessed that had more to do with the broken windows than the structure itself. He could feel how cold the stone was through his thin shoes. Without pausing, he turned right just inside the chapel’s entrance and started for the part of the building that would have what he was looking for. The echoed sounds of shattering glass and splintering wood chased after him as he approached the door before him.

The handle turned and the door swung open without hindrance. He stepped through and quickly closed it. If they were going to try and bury him under burning rubble, he wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

The door had opened into a short, very dark hallway that turned left a handful of steps away. He had half expected a window on the right wall but a door was on the wall at the far end instead. Curious despite himself, he crossed to the door and opened it.

Light poured into the hallway as he found the window he had been expecting to see. It was undamaged and the glass had been tempered so that only light was visible through it. He was certain if someone stood directly on the other side he would see their shape and vague colors but that would have been it. He couldn’t even make out the side of the church through it. Beneath the window stretched a staircase that ran the length of the hallway he had just walked and emptied out somewhere beneath the chapel. There was light in the room beyond the bottom most step and that curiosity turned into a thoughtful caution.

He stepped into the stairwell pulling the door closed behind him. If someone was down there, he wasn’t keen on giving them an easy escape.

The steps were worn stone yet well shaped even after apparent years. They were well tended, too, for he found nothing gritting between his thin shoes and the stone. No dust from an irregularly used basement access and no residual from other people’s shoes. It baffled him. What did a church keep in the basement that required the stairs to be so well tended? Or was cleaning the basement stairs a sort of discipline? That wouldn’t surprise him, honestly. The monks had always found some corner of the monastery that hadn’t been cleaned yet to send a disciple to clean as punishment and training. He was certain even the most unused rooms of the monastery had been as clean as the rooms for worship.

The light turned out to be several torches dotting a room half as large as the chapel above it. Most of what he passed looked to be the expected storage - fabric and chairs, some tables, crates with decorations - but there were also three doors and a hallway off of the room that he could see.

He had turned away from the hallway when a sound drifted from it. He stilled, all of his attention on the hallway as he waited.

The sound of chimes echoed from the hallway again. It was faint, nearly imperceivable that he was certain no one moving around down here normally would have heard. He started after the sound as quietly as he could manage.

The hallway led towards the front of the church before turning right and following the front most line of the building. As he rounded the corner, he found a second set of stairs blocked off by a wrought iron gate. There was a built in lock and he could clearly see that the lock was engaged. He made a face. Picking locks was not his thing. Combat was. Whatever was beyond the gate was not worth his time.

The chimes stopped abruptly, giving way to a gruff, disgruntled voice muttering something rather quickly. He frowned at the bottom of the stairs. The hallway he had just passed through had been dark, the only light coming from the main room, and the stairwell was no different. Even the space at the bottom of the stairs was absent of light almost absolutely. If there was someone down there, they were either in the dark or only had enough light to illuminate whatever it was they were doing.

Coin clinking against coin drifted up the stairs to him, quickly followed by that same muttering. Exasperation rushed through him. Of course the riches were in the deepest, darkest part of the church. A sneer pulled at his expression. He wasn’t a bloody rogue and he sure as hell wasn’t some locksmith.

The mud around his knees cracked and flaked off as he knelt before the gate. At least he knew how to pick one. It certainly saved him from having to hunt for a key that he would probably never find. The lock gave way a good time later and the gate opened on noisy hinges. The noise from the darkness below stopped immediately. So much for the element of surprise.

With sure, soft feet, he hurried down the stairs, done with wasting time. The sub basement level was pitch black. Even with darkvision he could make out the wall to his left and a small patch of floor at the base of the stairs. Beyond that, there was nothing to see, no light of any kind to even give him vague shapes in the darkness. He kept his left hand brushing the wall as he stepped carefully forward. The space at the base of the stairs was small, barely three steps to the opposite wall, and he transferred his hand to this new wall and followed it back under the church towards the chapel.

He counted twelve steps before he realized he could see something in the darkness. It wasn’t much, barely the hint of light, but there was something there. Seven more steps brought him in line with whatever it was and it took his brain far too long to understand what he was staring at.

Tucked into a corner, curled up as tightly as it could be, was a creature. He wasn’t quite sure what it was exactly but he could make out a beak in the not so absolute darkness. The miniscule amount of light allowing him to see was coming from somewhere under the creature’s chin. It was most likely a covered item but whatever it was, the creature couldn’t see with it covered like he could. Not that he would call it seeing.

Moving forward caused sections of the creature to disappear. At first he thought it was a weird optical illusion from how little light there was to see by, but when his hand brushed against cold metal, the weird visual made sense; metal bars separated him and the creature.

Something in him snapped at the realization, something deep and something dangerous coming free. Something that had been drawn far too taut for far too long. Something he didn’t even want to try and push back down now that it was free.

The metal was cold against the palm of his hand as his fingers closed around the bar. He was about to do the stupidest thing in his life but there was no way he was going to walk away now. Not when all he could think of was the bands of metal chafing against his wrists.

“Hey,” he offered softly. The creature jumped, its beak snapping up and about as if searching for something it couldn’t see. He squatted to be more level with the creature’s head, his hand still clamped around the bar above his head. “Mind uncovering your light? It’s kind of hard to find the door in the dark.”

“What are you doing?” was barked at him. The voice was angry, gruff, but the words were a harsh whisper. It reminded him of a parent being pissed at a kid for interrupting something important from a different town several raids ago.

“I’m going to get you out,” he answered patiently.

The sound of the creature shifting drifted through the darkness to him. “I don’t trust you.” These words were hissed and sounded almost wrong, like it wasn’t the same voice saying it. No, certainly not. It was most likely the space warping the softer spoken words.

“You don’t have to but there are horrible people upstairs who are going to be burning the place down and, unless you want to die down here, I’d suggest you give me enough light to see by.”

He flinched when a sudden burst of light filled the room before he had finished his suggestion. It wasn’t an overly bright light once his eyes adjusted but it certainly had been compared to the absolute darkness he’d just been in. The source of light, to his surprise, was a rock; it was glowing not of its own light, but the light of a spell. Either someone had given the creature a glowing rock or the creature knew magic. The latter had him uneasy.

Now able to see clearly, his first impression of the creature had been rather accurate but it wasn’t an aarakocra like he had initially assumed. The creature was very much an avian but there were no wings and every single feather he could see was as black as ink. “You’re a kenku,” he found himself saying.

The kenku blinked at him, eyes lighting up as a soft, caring, “Kenku,” came from that black beak. This voice was different, gentle in a way the other two - he was certain now it had been two - hadn’t been. The kenku shuffled forward and reached up but whatever the avian had been trying to do was halted by a shackle clamped around the wrist. Disappointment - and what looked almost like fear - quickly crossed the kenku’s expression. Anger surely filled his.

He reached through the bars and easily touched the kenku’s wrist. The avian tried to jerk back out of fear but he was quicker. His hand closed around the forearm just above the shackle and he pulled so the chain was taut without hurting the kenku.

A noise escaped the kenku but he wasn’t paying close enough attention to name it. “Let go,” spilled from the kenku’s beak over and over in a tone that did not match the fear written plainly across the avian’s form. It was sharp, disgusted, and made him want to punch someone with enough force to kill them with a single blow.

He opened his mouth to reassure the kenku that it was alright-

Something came at his head from his right and he ducked. The bars of the kenku’s cell rang clearly as the staff slammed into them. He immediately let go of the kenku to quickly pin the staff against the cell bars with his quarterstaff, already turning to bring his foot up and kick at his assailant’s head.

An ashen faced human only stared in shock as their eyes met.

He pulled back on the kick, missing the clergy member by inches. He brought himself back to center as he glared at the intruder.

“What are you doing to Kenku?” the human demanded, their expression quickly turning determined. Apparently nearly being kicked in the face hadn’t deterred them in the slightest. “And what do you want with it?”

“I’m rescuing it,” he spat, “because clearly-” he gestured at the chain the kenku had a firm grip on- “it needs to be rescued.”

The clergy member narrowed their eyes. “And what will you do with Kenku if you make it out past the raiders?” The clergy member’s eyes landed pointedly on his bindings. “After all, Kenku is not the only one needing rescuing.”

He released the clergy member’s staff like he had been burned, tucking his quarterstaff away so that he could obscure the clergy member’s view of his wrists. “I’ll take the kenku somewhere safe and then keep moving to keep the raiders attention off of the kenku.”

The clergy member raised an eyebrow, amusement pulling at that ashen face. “I’m sure.” Even tone aside, it was clear the clergy member didn’t have any faith in his plan. “If I am able to help you properly escape with as much of a head start as I can, will you take Kenku someplace specific for me?”

“Like there’s anything more that you can do for me.”

“Oh?” The clergy member gained a smug expression that he immediately hated. “You don’t think so?”

There was a flicker of magic before the human’s appearance blinked out of existence. Ilravis found himself face to face with someone who looked way too familiar. There was the sound of fabric against stone and he realized he had taken a step back. The clergy member raised their hand, still smug but their apology reflected at the edges of their expression. “I know, a warning would have been preferred, but I don’t think we have enough time for that.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure we have time for an explanation,” he countered sharply, still staring at the other’s face. At his own face.

The clergy member looked up at the ceiling. “I believe the entirety of the atrium is on fire now and it will only be a matter of time before the whole of the upper floors becomes impassable.” The clergy member focused a look on him that he didn’t understand. “If you will take Kenku to where I specify, I will help you.”

“How?”

The clergy member gestured at themself. “I can easily take your place. No one would know.”

He scoffed at that, rolling his eyes. “From a distance, sure. They would know as soon as you started talking.”

“Then it’s a good thing my idea doesn’t require me talking.”

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. He hated how vague the other was being; and how morbid his thoughts went. Surely the clergy member’s plan wouldn’t require the clergy member to die. Or getting caught, because that would be worse than death. He glanced at the kenku still sitting clutching the chain. Or maybe it did involve the clergy member’s death. Death was something he had become far too familiar with - be it causing it or witnessing it - and he knew his soul was tainted from it. The fun little bonus that came with it was a strange variant of intuition when it came to knowing if someone was going to die soon. It was never tied with anything like Futuresight or the like; more of a sense of knowing when someone has been dying due to illness or poison, or knowing if someone has met Death before and if they are looking to meet Death again. It lingered in the church like a spider waiting for something to touch a strand of its web, patient and ominous, but it was hard to tell if it lingered because of the raiders or because of his doppelganger.

Not that it swayed him much. Whatever had kept him in line for his captors was thoroughly gone and he wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to get free.

“Fine. Where do you want me to take the kenku?”

The clergy member nodded only to cross to the cell. “Good. Let me get Kenku out and I’ll show you a map upstairs.”

The clergy member worked quickly and before he knew it, the clergy member was leading the way back upstairs. Kenku hurried on ahead as if knowing exactly where the clergy member was headed, and maybe the kenku did, but it left him with the clergy member. “Do you still have your name?”

His initial reaction was to give his doppelganger a flat look but then his mind caught up with why the question was being asked. He sighed sharply. “Yes.” Silence followed and it took a moment for him to realize the clergy member was watching him expectantly. He rolled his eyes. “Ilravis.”

“Norman.” This time he did give the clergy member a flat look and the other laughed. “I’ve been masquerading as a human for a good while. Have to have a human name.” The clergy member’s grin was cheeky but his expression didn’t change. That grin smoothed out into a pleasant smile. “Monvyon. Though no one has called me that in a very long time.”

“Monvyon,” he echoed. Strange. It tickled a part of his mind but there was no placing why it sounds familiar. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Monvyon chuckled, as if that had amused the other in some way. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Kenku was waiting for them at the top of the final stairs, hopping from foot to foot. As soon as Kenku saw them it darted through the barely ajar door, a child’s laughter echoing behind it. Ilravis frowned but dutifully followed Monvyon up the steps.

The laughter stopped abruptly drawing the two to a halt halfway up the stairs. Kenku came barreling back in and down the stairs, “Smoke,” coming from its beak in Monvyon’s voice far calmer than the Kenku clearly was. “Monvyon-” A new voice, lighter and breathy, something far more feminine than everything else Ilravis had heard, and this time it held the same concern the kenku was displaying as said kenku nearly collided with Monvyon’s chest, clinging to the fabric there.

“I’ll be ok, Kenku,” Monvyon assured the suddenly worried Kenku. “We’re just going to the Bishop’s office.”

Kenku squawked in protest, its beak snapping sharply at the same time. Monvyon affectionately ran a hand over Kenku’s head before turning the kenku around and urging the aviary onward. Kenku glanced back but didn’t hesitate to dart forward again.

“Not going to say anything about the building being on fire?” Ilravis asked as they started walking again.

He caught sight of a smile as Monvyon covered their nose and mouth with their sleeve, their words muffled by it. “Kenku already knows. Its concern wasn't for the fire anyway.”

He frowned, unconsciously recoiling from the choking scent of smoke. The hallway wasn’t thick with it but it made it a bit hazy. “What else would-”

Monvyon started coughing. At first Ilravis thought Monvyon was suddenly choking on nothing but the coughing quickly became ragged and thick, like there was something in Monvyon’s lungs the other was trying to dislodge. Ilravis froze in place as Monvyon was forced to stop from the force of the fit. Kenku appeared in front of Monvyon before Ilravis had even realized the kenku had been returning. Muttered words like a prayer drifted under the sound of Monvyon’s coughing. At first, nothing happened. Ilravis took a step forward to stop the praying and see if there was anything he could do that would actually help but Monvyon waved at him, straightening. Kenku was still muttering but some of the strain that had come with the coughing had eased from Monvyon’s face as the coughing subsided. The clergy member still coughed occasionally but it wasn’t the body curling kind anymore. “Quickly. Before I have another attack. Lead, Kenku.”

Kenku took off at a run as Ilravis closed the distance between him and Monvyon. “What was that?” he asked in a low voice, watching Monvyon closely.

Monvyon’s pace was as close to running as one could get without breaking into a jog. The clergy member’s voice was raw. “Later. Once we’re in the office.”

Kenku hopped from foot to foot, a clattering coming from its beak. He couldn’t tell if it was a mimic or a sound the kenku could just make with its beak. Monvyon didn’t stop once they had entered the office. Kenku had barely closed the door when Monvyon shoved nearly everything off of the large desk and spread a massive map over the top of it. Ilravis approached, frowning as he came within reaching distance of the desk. Monvyon looked even worse, though the clergy member looked less like Ilravis’s doppelganger now that there was better light from the only window in the room. There was a bit more length to Monvyon’s face, a slightly deeper curve in the tops of Monvyon’s ears, and even the hair wasn’t quite the right color. And maybe there were other differences but he couldn’t tell as the other worked to get the map to lay flat. “What was that, Monvyon,” he all but demanded, resting his hands on the edge of the edge.

Monvyon’s eyes flickered up to him; he recognized those irises but still couldn’t place why. Monvyon’s gaze returned to the map. “A long time ago, I was fortunate enough to avoid the majority of a tragic event that took the lives of all of my family and friends, save for my youngest son, though at the time I had believed even he had been killed. While I avoided death, I wasn’t left untouched.” Monvyon’s expression became startlingly blank. “I had foolishly gone seeking revenge while drowning in my sorrow and, while it gave me the opportunity to discover my youngest son had in fact survived, my drive for revenge only got me caught and tortured. I was forced to breathe harmful particles that irreparably damaged my lungs. I have been living with an impending death date hanging over my head ever since and things like inhaling smoke or overexertion of the lungs only brings that date closer.”

There was nothing that he could say to that. He hadn’t even expected the truth yet Monvyon had given it seemingly without a thought.

Monvyon pressed a finger to a point on the map, drawing Ilravis’s attention out of his thoughts. “This is where we are,” Monvyon pressed another finger to the map nearly a full arm’s span away, “and this is one of two locations you can take Kenku to.”

“You’re joking, right?” Ilravis asked as Monvyon coughed again. He leaned more completely into the table, looking at the distance between the two points. “That’s on the other side of the continent, a good who knows how far away.”

“8 months on foot, about 6 if you’re able to get a cart or horse,” Monvyon rattled off while trying to suppress another cough. Monvyon pointed to a third point. “If you can’t make it there, this is the other place you can take Kenku.”

Ilravis stepped back, not sure if he was flabbergasted or offended. “You expect me to be able to not only smuggle myself but a kenku as well through not only two other, entire nations, but onto a whole other continent?” He gestured at the third point with a sharp flick of his wrist. “Why there? Why that far south?”

“Rebecca Harvestone moved there after falling in love with the city during some of her travels,” Monvyon pointed at the second point “Treba Verda, an old colleague of mine, went here for study.”

“Rebecca,” Kenku parroted, but despite it being in Monvyon’s voice, the tone and roll of the word was completely different. Almost fond.

Monvyon smiled gently at Kenku before focusing on Ilravis. “They are the only people I know who will be more than happy to take Kenku in and provide a far better life than what this church has done.”

Ilravis furrowed his brow. “And the reason you haven’t taken Kenku there yet yourself is...”

Monvyon smiled weakly. “Unfortunately, my ability to do anything for Kenku was restricted to reading the scriptures to him. The higher members of the church made sure of that.”

“Like the Bishop,” Ilravis guessed.

Monvyon started digging through the desk drawers. “To some extent. We were too small to have a bishop here full time but he would visit regularly. It was who he had put in charge who had decided Kenku was best left in the cellar chained like an animal.”

Ilravis almost missed the venom that filled those last words. Monvyon’s voice had barely changed yet it had been there. “How did a church become responsible for a kenku, anyway?”

“I was told it was a group of adventurers who had brought Kenku in as a babe. Supposedly they had been too kind hearted to kill it with its thieving parents but I’m not sure how much faith I hold to that.” Monvyon flattened out two smaller maps, quickly marking the two locations with a precise, deliberate stroke of a pen. “But, just as I don’t trust the words of my fellow clergy members, I know that it is just as likely Kenku was given to us in the hopes that we are able to find it a good home as it was that the adventurers were just leaving Kenku here to be dealt with by someone else.” Monvyon offered Ilravis the maps. “Are you still willing to take Kenku to one of these locations for me?”

The chaffing of his wrists came back to the forefront of his mind. He gestured with one hand to emphasize his point. “Only if you hold true to your word and help me with my own situation.”

“Ah, yes. I nearly forgot, what with everything else. ” Monvyon put the maps down and walked back around the table. “It will require you to trust me.”

He raised an eyebrow, the rest of his expression flat and annoyed. “You can’t do anything worse than what I’ve already been through.”

Something flickered across Monvyon’s face too fast for Ilravis to decipher. He was tempted to call it guilt but unless Monvyon was hiding something, there was nothing for the other to feel guilt over. “Fair enough.” Monvyon’s hand pressed into Ilravis’s chest only hard enough to be difficult to dislodge. “I will be putting you into a fake death. Once I am done removing them, I will return you to the waking world.”

“Will it actually work?”

Monvyon offered an encouraging smile. “The only thing that will know it isn’t true death will be Death itself. I will only know because it is my action causing it. Nothing more.”

Ilravis hesitated long enough to glance at Kenku. The aviary was at the door wadding something in the bottom crack to keep the smoke out. “Fine. But if it hurts–”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence. One moment he was standing giving Monvyon permission to go through with the plan and the next he was groggily waking up on the floor. Kenku was at his head, hands on either side as what sounded like the words to a prayer drifted from Kenku’s beak in that same feminine voice. His wrists felt warm and his skin was tingly all the way up his arms but he could tell the cuffs were gone. Monvyon leaned over into his line of sight looking a hell of a lot worse than when Ilravis had last seen the other and Monvyon had looked bad before knocking him out.

“Don’t rush getting up. We’ve got a little bit more time. Kenku is nearly at the end of the Prayer of Healing and we will both be feeling a whole lot better once the prayer is complete.”

Ilravis could almost see the shroud of Death clinging to Monvyon from that groggy state. He wasn’t so sure Monvyon would get any sort of relief no matter how powerful a Prayer of Healing was. Not that he even thought it would do anything. Praying had certainly done him no good in the past.

The grogginess slid away rather quickly as the words spoken in that feminine voice from earlier came to an end. Ilravis carefully sat up when Kenku stood, a brief, small chk-chk-chk coming from the kenku’s beak. He frowned at the kenku as it went back to stuffing fabric under the door. “Who taught him that prayer?”

“Rebecca.” A weak, fond smile pulled at Monvyon’s lips. “She taught Kenku the majority of the prayers Kenku knows, though none of us expected Kenku to actually be able to use them as Kenku has. Very few of us were ever blessed with the might of our God.”

“Why not you?” When Monvyon only raised an eyebrow, Ilravis elaborated. “Why didn’t you teach Kenku any of it? Especially after finding out it was blessed with the might of the Gods.” His lips curled with those echoed words. He didn’t overly believe that was even a thing. He had never met a God and, while he had seen plenty use magic, none of it had been because a God bestowed it upon someone. Magic was magic. Everyone had it and could use it. All it took was the right training with the right kind of magic, the right understanding. It made spell scrolls and magical items the most sought after during raids; they always guaranteed a number of good meals and a warm place to sleep for a short while because of how well they sold or could be utilized.

Monvyon blinked at him before smiling fondly at him. “I would have liked to but Kenku wasn’t the only one on a short leash. I was closely watched because of my outcry against Kenku’s treatment. Rebecca was far better at going unnoticed. Not that she liked it but it served a purpose in the end.” Monvyon stood, groaning with visible effort. “Come. There is one last thing we need to do before you are able to take Kenku away from here.”

“And that requires you going back out into the smoke?” Ilravis asked, standing with far more ease than he expected. He gave Kenku a surprised look that the kenku never saw.

Only, Kenku bristled at his question and whipped around to give Monvyon a dark look. Ilravis started when Kenku’s beak opened and his own voice came out. “You’re joking, right?” It was the same incredulous tone as he had spoken it in and he found that it made him very uncomfortable. Kenku didn’t let him stew on that long as it continued in Monvyon’s steady voice, “Inhaling smoke only brings that death date closer.”

That was not verbatim. Ilravis knew that was not and yet it had sounded so smooth, like it had been spoken that way. He stared at Kenku, wondering now just how much control Kenku actually had over what it said and how it said it. Certainly not much if it hadn’t been able to change the inflections while furious at Monvyon. Those words had been just as nonchalant as Monvyon had spoken them.

“You are not going out again.” A new voice this time, one that matched Kenku’s outrage; it sounded almost like the first voice he had heard Kenku use but he wasn’t certain.

“Kenku,” Monvyon tried to placate but the kenku shook its head vehemently.

“You are not going out again!” it bellowed in that unnamed voice.

Monvyon didn’t respond verbally but the other did walk over to Kenku, kneel, and pull the aviary into a tight hug. The kenku was quick to bury its face into Monvyon’s shoulder, beak pressing down Monvyon’s front.

“You went out?” Ilravis interjected.

“For supplies while you were in that death state,” Monvyon confirmed. “There is a new outfit for Kenku on the table as well as a satchel of supplies and money for the both of you. I also grabbed another for what we have to do next.” Monvyon pulled back from the hug enough to get Kenku’s attention. “I have to step out and lead the criminals astray, otherwise they will find you and they will do terrible things to you.”

Kenku, still crying, shook its head again. “Stay here for me,” it said in Monvyon’s voice. The words trembled with something Ilravis couldn’t name but it wasn’t whatever Kenku was feeling, he knew that.

“I will do my best to catch up with you both later, but for now I need you to be good and do as Ilravis says, ok?” Kenku rubbed at its eyes and beak before nodding. “Good. Go put on the outfit I brought you. I’ll make sure Ilravis returns as I take the criminal’s attention away from you.”

Kenku morosely drifted towards the table where a pile of white fabric rested next to some bags. Monvyon didn’t wait to see if Kenku did as instructed. “Come on,” Monvyon spoke, stepping through the door quickly.

Ilravis followed after, quick to close the door. Monvyon, though, simply crossed the hall to the other door and entered the space. Not sure what Monvyon was doing, Ilravis stepped in and closed the door quickly to keep the now rather thick smoke out of the room.

“Undress,” Monvyon wheezed, already stripping.

“Why?” Ilravis asked, even as he followed suit. He barely managed to catch the first bit of garment Monvyon threw at him.

Monvyon gave him a very tired look and Ilravis was suddenly reminded of his impression upon waking up of almost seeing the shroud of Death hanging over Monvyon. “We are swapping clothes. All of it. After that, I will put myself in the same fake death that I had placed you in and you will put your shackles on my wrists. Once done, you will have to carry me out into the chapel and leave me there. If for some reason I am not properly dead after the spell has worn off, the first lung full of smoke will guarantee it.” Ilravis stared at Monvyon, not believing what he was hearing. Monvyon seemed unperturbed by his disbelief as the other met his gaze. “I am living on borrowed minutes, Ilravis. The only reason I’m still moving around is because of Kenku’s Prayer of Healing. Putting you into that false death and then going back into the hall with only the cloth on my body to keep the smoke at bay should have killed me. Kenku was quick to give me some healing when I staggered back in but it barely did anything; I could barely even sit up afterwards. The Prayer of Healing had been more for me than you but it affects multiple people at once so it benefited the both of us.” Monvyon threw another article of clothing at Ilravis’s face. Ilravis snatched it out of the air but before he could retort, Monvyon had already turned away. “Get dressed. We’re running out of time.”

“Are you seriously going to just leave Kenku like that?” he asked, the words thick with incredulity. “Leave it hoping it’ll see you again at some point? You can’t give it that kind of hope. It would kill the poor creature.”

Monvyon turned back to him with an exhausted expression filled with pain. “You are more than welcome to tell Kenku what really happened later but I was not about to have that fight. This is my choice.”

“What good does throwing your life way do if someone is relying on you to stay alive?!”

“I am already dead, Ilravis!” Monvyon bellowed. Ilravis slid a foot back on the stone floor, bracing for an attack that would never come. The moment that yell left Monvyon, so too did most of the other’s strength. Ilravis watched as Monvyon practically collapsed in on themself, hand going to hair that looked far too thin. “I was dead the moment I caught up with those fucking raiders; the only reason why I’m even alive today is because of you and your stupid, idiotic, kindhearted mentor.”

It was like someone had ghosted their finger from the tip of his head down his spine sending a cascade of spiders over every square inch of skin along the way. His breathing deepened even as it felt like his ribs contracted. “What?” It was clipped, demanding, and thick with the distrust he had a vice grip around.

Monvyon winced only to bow their head in resignation. “I had followed the raiders for a few years. I hadn’t realized they had been tailing you - though whether that had been coincidence or intentional, I still don’t know - until they already had their hands on me. I don’t remember how I escaped but I was nearly dead when I had. I never learned how I ended up at the monastery - your teacher Master Yun never told me - but I do remember waking up there.” Monvyon coughed suddenly, briefly, and struggled to suck in a breath afterwards. “I was never truly conscious but I remember becoming awake enough to see and understand Master Yun,” Monvyon looked up to meet his gaze, “and to see you.” There was a pause, a brief lull that Ilravis refused to disrupt because he didn’t understand, that Monvyon seemed to not notice. “My youngest son, though not the youngest of seven, still alive after I had believed you had died with the others. Ilravis Nodelstacia, son to Monvyon and Banvret Nodelstacia, moon elf of my own flesh and blood.”

The torrent of emotions had become noise; nothing more than a numbing presence that simply existed around him. He wanted to scream, to yell, to ask thousands of questions, but all he could do was stare banefully at the moon elf before him. His own parent was before him and he couldn’t even feel anything about that fact.

Monvyon stepped close enough to tug at Ilravis’s shirt. “Come on. We’re running out of time.”

Ilravis took a solid step back, unconsciously shaking his head no as he did so. “I’m not about to let you die.”

Monvyon chuckled. He hated how rueful it was. “I’m already dead, Ilravis. I won’t make it through the night even if we made it into fresh air. At least let me do something with my death.”

There was truth in that statement. Ilravis could almost see Death tugging at the last of what held Monvyon in Life and it wouldn’t be long before Death had the other completely. He fisted the fabric still in his hands before glaring at Monvyon. “Fuck you.”

Monvyon didn’t respond beyond a look of acceptance crossing that ashen face. Ilravis started to strip.

When they were both dressed in each other’s clothes, Monvyon couldn’t stand anymore. Each breath was loud and sounded horrible in ways Ilravis couldn’t even explain. It was all Ilravis could do to not go get Kenku anyways and force it to heal Monvyon to the extent that it could. Monvyon was still resigned to all of it and even looked content sitting at the base of a wall dressed in Ilravis’s clothing. “Promise me something. Ilravis.”

“What?” he asked, his voice monotone as he finished getting his last shoe onto Monvyon’s foot.

“When you get out of here, you live a long, good life to the best of your ability knowing you are loved far more than you know.” Ilravis blinked, finding that he had stopped mid task. He quickly finished. “And as a favor-” he could hear Monvyon struggle to pull in the breath as a tear streaked down Monvyon’s face- “tell Rebecca I’m sorry if you make it that far.”

“Sure.”

Monvyon raised a hand but the other swayed heavily to one side as if the simple act had caused Monvyon to become unbalanced. Ilravis’s hands shot out, steadying Monvyon. Monvyon offered him a weak smile as that raised hand settled against Monvyon’s chest.

Ilravis watched as the spell took effect without retaining whatever Monvyon had said to cast it. As soon as it was in place, Ilravis was quick to slip his old cuffs onto Monvyon’s wrists before getting to work.

He returned to Kenku in a daze, not truly remembering going through with the rest of his plan. Kenku greeted him upon entry in all white but it did little to startle Ilravis out of his daze. He placed a hand on the kenku’s head not hearing any of the words that were most likely flowing from the kenku’s beak. “Let’s get out of here.”

They slipped out through the window without any trouble, bags and maps in hand. It would be months later, though, before Ilravis got confirmation if Monvyon’s sacrifice had actually worked or not. His answer came when he and Kenku were one major town away from Treba Verda’s town. One of the raiders who had been part of the initial group that set the church on fire had been in the town and met Ilravis’s gaze by sheer luck. Ilravis only realized a split second too late and a shouted, “Guys! We have him!” filling the air behind him was evident enough that the lead Monvyon had given them was gone now.

Kenku never gave any indication that it knew why Ilravis was suddenly changing their plans and Ilravis put that more towards luck than his own skill. While he was able to keep a step ahead of his previous captors, they were quick and it was hard to hide a Kenku dressed in white when he himself stood out just as much.

It was easy hiding it from others, though.

She was cute in the way that all cats were cute, not that she was like a cat beyond her appearance. She was fiercely self confident, quick tongued, and light on her feet despite the prosthetic she didn’t care to hide. Her tail was as equally fluffy as the fur around her neck and at the base of her throat and she took great pride in her appearance for it. Her accent wasn’t heavy but it was very distinct, and for some reason she took an instant liking to him, to which Ilravis didn’t feel like trying to understand why, if only to save himself the headache. Everyone loved Kenku - Ilravis had exploited that little fact far too often for it to not be cruel - but they always gave him a wide berth in contrast. She, though, sat down next to him in one of the seaport taverns and ordered him and herself a drink. Her companions had been less thrilled about joining his and Kenku’s table but Kenku’s good nature and her apparent ease with his presence seemed to be enough for them.

“Come on, Talley. The Captain’s expecting us back.”

She waved them off as she leaned into the table seeking out his gaze. “In a minute.” He gave it to her with a bewildered look. “You wanted a ship out of here, right?” Her tail flicked behind her, a tell he didn’t understand yet.

“Preferably south,” he confirmed. “From all the chatter, though, it sounds like your ship’s heading north.”

“We are, but that doesn’t mean we’re not heading south afterwards.” She grinned, one that showed way too many teeth for his liking. “Come with. The Captain will appreciate a good pair of hands and we’re always in need of a good healer.”

“Kenku doesn’t know medicine-”

“Yet,” she cut in, giddy. “We drop off our current healer on our last stop north. Kenku will have enough time to pick up all sorts of information.”

Ilravis glanced at her companions. “And your Captain’s just going to let the two of us board with no previous conversations not knowing who we are.”

“She will if I put in a good word for you.” He looked back at her, at that eager expression she kept trained on his face. “If I take full responsibility for any mutiny you may cause.”

He rolled his eyes, picking up his drink. “I don’t need a keeper, much less Kenku. No thank you.”

“Exactly.” His cup froze at his lips. “You don’t need a keeper but you do need a way into Alvron. Come with us, Ravin. We’re your only ticket south that doesn’t come with consequences. The Captain will expect you to work hard for your passage but she’s fair and won’t work you any harder than she works any of us.” Her hand settled on his arm, warm and soft against his bare skin. “Come with us.”

He looked at her again as he lowered his cup back to the table. “You guarantee this will not cost Kenku or I anything material or otherwise.”

She nodded solemnly. “Safe passage for the same manual labor all the crew does. That’s it.” Her ears stood a bit straighter on her head. “Oh, and Kenku learning as much as possible from the current healer on board. She’ll want that, too.”

Ilravis sighed. “Fine.” He pushed his chair back as he stood. Kenku followed suit without being told, happily walking towards the door as if the kenku knew where to go without her or her company leading. He turned a flat, hard look onto her. “But if you are leading us astray, I will skin you alive and turn your hide into a winter cloak.”

Her companions didn’t care much for the threat - at least three of them reached for weapons - but she only grinned big and bright while hopping from foot to prosthetic in clear excitement. “Deal.”

He and her companions shared the same exasperated sigh. She was going to be a handful, he just knew it.

[ArtisticVicu]

The Fifth Descender
They weren't supposed to come to Teyvat. Kaveh should have known better than to coax the otherworlder from their path, to have left things be.

No, wait, that wasn't fair to Kaveh. Alhaitham had asked. He had been curious, just as Kaveh had been eager when the otherworlder had changed directions to at least fly by. Kaveh couldn't have known the Fatui had been watching the otherworlder. Kaveh couldn't have known that Alhaitham would end up leaving him in Sumeru City - unconscious, alone- no, Lesser Lord Kusanali was with him. Lesser Lord Kusanali had sent Alhaitham with Wanderer to get the otherworlder, had...had.......

He really hated nausea. The pain he could deal with but the nausea could go away and never return.

Maybe he should try and get some more sleep. It would be nice to wake up to a rescue, especially with how bad his injuries were.

They were looking for them, right?

Content Warning: Do be advised that starting in Chapter 2, there is talk about wound care and vomiting. Nothing is overly explicit however keep in mind I am not trained on wound care beyond First Aid training and thus information may be inaccurate.

Spoiler: Chapter 1 

Kaveh was still hovering, not that Alhaitham was surprised. It had only been a day since he had returned to work so some hovering was to be expected; no, the thing that was odd was the nature of it.

Usually by the time Alhaitham returned to work, Kaveh was less attentive, less present in a sense, and oftentimes antsy to get back to work in a greater capacity. Kaveh wasn’t behaving like that. Alhaitham watched him, book lying open and temporarily forgotten on the table, as Kaveh quietly worked on some illustration. From what glimpses Alhaitham had managed around Kaveh’s normal behavior of hiding it before Alhaitham could really see it, it didn’t look like Kaveh’s normal work. It had looked a bit too abstract, less focused, or perhaps too complex for a simple sheet of paper to hold, like Kaveh was trying to capture how the stars hung in three dimensional space in a two dimensional image. But despite Kaveh’s appearance of working diligently away on his latest piece, Alhaitham knew better. Kaveh’s gaze was focused on the in-between space rather than the page itself. Instead of precise, almost dance-like, long movements from Kaveh’s arm, the movements were small, fleeting, and seemed to drift more than to dance. Even his expression - which could range from a scowl of frustration to a lax concentration - was blissful in a way Alhaitham had only ever seen on Kaveh’s face once and he didn’t care to see it for a second time.

Despite those oddities, Kaveh was as attentive as the man had been for the last three days. Even now, Kaveh’s gaze lifted from his work and focused on Alhaitham as if he had felt Alhaitham watching him. Part of that blissful expression slipped into something more familiar, something Alhaitham had seen regularly during those three days. “Need something? A break, maybe?” Kaveh started putting down his materials, careful to make sure the project was covered from prying eyes, but Alhaitham didn’t bother working out a response. Kaveh’s gaze unfocused like the man was focusing on a thought for the brief instant that it took for Kaveh to stand; there would be no point in saying anything when Kaveh would feel the real answer anyway. “Yep. Breaktime. Come on.” Kaveh came to a stop at Alhaitham’s side and grinned at him. “Let’s go take a walk and then you can come back to your reading. We’ll see about getting some food into both of us while we’re out.”

The idea of eating anything sent a curl of disgust through him. He wasn’t hungry despite knowing he was supposed to be if not outright starving. It had certainly been long enough since the measly amount he had managed to consume earlier in the day to not be.

Kaveh’s expression softened; he was grateful it held no pity. “I know but you have to at least have something small. We’ll try your go-tos and work from there.” Kaveh’s hand closed around Alhaitham’s upper arm and he automatically reached up to grab ahold of Kaveh’s forearm. Kaveh wasn’t strong enough to pull him bodily from the chair but the tug was enough for Alhaitham to move under his own power. “If all else fails, I did bring a few crackers so you can have those and some water when we get back. And juice, if you can manage it. Get some other nutrients in you as best we can.”

Appreciation was thick in his chest as Kaveh reseated Alhaitham’s headphones back into place, even going as far as to make sure the noise canceling was active before the lift had even arrived. Had the remnants of the illness he had suffered through not been present, he would have found this attentiveness irritating. Kaveh led the way at Alhaitham’s side filling the space between them with words. It was clear Kaveh had no expectation of Alhaitham’s participation but Alhaitham did what he could to be attentive of the other’s words.

It quickly became apparent that he was incapable of tracking anything Kaveh said. Moments would slip through his fingers and he would find himself suddenly aware of Kaveh’s words and the world around them like he had just woken from a dream. Kaveh was always in his line of sight whenever he came back to awareness with a patient cheerful expression and oftentimes something being offered. Most of it was food that Alhaitham turned down but there were the occasional trinkets, a number of which were shown without intent to buy, a rarity with Kaveh. It wasn’t often they walked the market and Kaveh wasn’t relying on Alhaitham to not let the other man buy every trinket that caught his interest.

When had his head gotten so foggy?

“How about this?” Coming back into awareness at Kaveh’s question, the blended smell of fresh bread, a mix of spices, and vegetables was the first thing he was able to focus on. It took a moment before he was able to actually understand what he was looking at even as his hand was already closing around the filled bun. He wasn’t sure why he took it. It wasn’t like his appetite had returned. But maybe a part of him knew he needed food and the filled buns had always been a safe option.

He recoiled from the texture first and the taste second. Kaveh’s hand was under his in an instant, slipping the filled bun free of his grasp and quickly replacing it with a bottle of water. “Drink,” Kaveh directed, his voice still that same carefree sort of tone it had been in all day.

Alhaitham took a long drink before returning the bottle to Kaveh. “I can eat it,” he said, his gaze on Kaveh’s face.

Amusement bloomed across Kaveh’s face and the man smiled at him. “You could,” Kaveh agreed, lifting the bun to take a bite, “but I’d rather you have something that you want rather than the first thing I hand you.”

That wasn’t exactly right. Kaveh had handed Alhaitham plenty of food throughout however long their walk had been. This was simply the first he had taken. “Kaveh,” he started but they both knew he didn’t have the words to follow it.

Kaveh offered him that smile again, the bun already half gone. “Come on. We’ve got two more stalls to check out on this street.”

In the end, it was the least expected item that had drawn Alhaitham’s appetite out and the pair of them returned to the sanctuary of the Grand Sage’s office with several skewers of barbecued meat and icy drinks. Alhaitham started for one of the small side tables but Kaveh had other plans and promptly walked towards the balcony with the plate of skewers. Alhaitham - now ravenous - followed after as irritation pulled at his chest. “Kaveh,” he started but Kaveh waved him off as the other man opened the balcony door with his elbow and back out onto the balcony itself.

“We’ve been in the stuffy office all day. Let’s at least eat out here. Look. There’s even some nice seating here.”

Sure enough, the blanket and cushions Kaveh had put out there the day prior were still there ready to be utilized. Alhaitham had somehow managed to forget all about them and stood just past the threshold holding their drinks as he watched Kaveh settle in the middle of the cushions, shoes tucked neatly at the edge of the blanket. Kaveh reached for the drinks as soon as the plate of skewers was safely placed on the low table and Alhaitham handed the drinks over without much thought.

The blanket was cool against his bare feet as he joined Kaveh. Habit had him sitting straight with one leg tucked tight forcing the other to be propped higher than the other. It kept him sitting upright as Kaveh passed him a still steaming skewer. The meat on it was gone before Kaveh had finished his first bite.

Kaveh filled the silence with soft chatter between mouthfuls. Alhaitham contributed very little and settled into the cushions once he was sated. Despite the voracious appetite that had seized him, Alhaitham had managed half of what he would normally have consumed. Kaveh didn’t comment on it, coaxing instead for Alhaitham to at least finish his drink before he took the unintended nap he was heading for.

He wasn’t sure he had managed to drink all of it before falling asleep.

What he did know was that a lot of time had passed by the time he had woken up. The balcony had been warm and well lit but was now dark and while he was warm thanks to whatever Kaveh had draped over him, the air on his face was cool. He sat up, letting whatever covered him slide to gather on his lap, and found Kaveh as soon as he started looking around.

The sky beyond the balcony was speckled in stars. The only reason Alhaitham was able to see anything was the light from the door and the two lanterns mounted on the wall. Even then Kaveh’s face was cast in thick shadows as it was pointed up towards the stars, oblivious to the rest of the world. The other man’s back was bare of its normal split cape. That particular item was now gathered in Alhaitham’s lap along with his own cape piece.

Alhaitham stood. The fog he had dealt with during their walk was gone. He refused to acknowledge just how severely he had needed food and a nap as he walked over to Kaveh’s side. The railing was still warm as he leaned back against it, letting his forearms take his weight as Kaveh took his gaze. Even then Kaveh didn’t react to him. Kaveh’s eyes were locked on the stars without really seeing them and that blissful look was back on his face. A thin string of unease pulled taut through Alhaitham’s chest. “Something interesting got your attention?” he asked, half expecting to be ignored.

“They’re so free up there.”

The unease was masked by curiosity and intrigued but not wholly forgotten. “Oh? And who are they?”

Kaveh shrugged, a half formed gesture that could have been a simple shift of weight had Alhaitham not known better. “Another otherworlder, kind of like the Traveller.”

Alhaitham turned his gaze to the stars knowing he wouldn't be able to see whatever held Kaveh’s attention. Kaveh had connected to this otherworlder on a level Alhaitham couldn’t even fathom. Being an Empath was rare among Sumeru’s populations - possibly all across Teyvat if his research was anything to go by - and Kaveh was proving once again that he was not on the same level as other Empaths. The part that concerned Alhaitham about it all, though, was how connected Kaveh had become to some otherworlder who hadn’t even touched Teyvat soil. The last time Alhaitham had witnessed Kaveh get so entangled with another, it had ended poorly and he had foolishly believed - or naively hoped - that the first time had been the only time Kaveh would ever suffer through such an entanglement.

“Are they coming to visit?” Alhaitham asked, turning enough for his body to face Kaveh.

Kaveh’s bliss slipped at the edges as he thought. “They’re curious but they have somewhere else they wish to be.” That bliss came back full force and Kaveh leaned into the railing with enough weight that Alhaitham instinctively straightened, unconsciously - irrationally - thinking Kaveh would put too much of his weight over the railing. “They are going to fly by! They’ll be close enough to see!”

With a hand still hovering over Kaveh’s arm, Alhaitham looked up, eager in a way he would never verbalize to see even just a glimpse of whatever had enthralled Kaveh. The seconds turned into minutes and although time seemed to stretch on longer than it really needed to, Alhaitham didn’t say anything. He moved about, obviously, into something more comfortable when it became apparent the otherworlder wasn’t as close as he had originally assumed but he never broke the silence. Neither did Kaveh, still leaning heavily on the railing, gaze still locked on the night sky above.

Kaveh spotted them first. “There!” he exclaimed, this time leaning so far over the railing he teetered on the edge of falling. The back of Alhaitham’s fingers ran against Kaveh’s spine as he took hold of the other’s shirt collar through the opening in the back. He yanked hard enough to bring the man’s weight back onto the balcony but did nothing more as his gaze searched the portion of sky Kaveh was pointing at.

For a breath, Alhaitham thought he wouldn’t be able to make the otherworlder out, only for something he had assumed was nothing more than another twinkling star to get larger in the sky. Alhaitham vaguely noted the rail pressing into his gut as he watched that star slowly grow in size until it was nearly as large as Alhaitham’s hand spread wide. It slowly started to dip down in the sky, like it was coming to land not far from Sumeru City, before a tail started to appear and it banked to the right. It flew across the sky in a brilliant streak of light, golds and blues most prominent of colors in the trail left behind. For a long minute it continued its horizontal trajectory before banking steadily south with a lazy arch skyward.

Alhaitham withdrew from the rail with a fond smile on his lips. Kaveh was still enthusiastically waving to the otherworlder even if the otherworlder couldn’t see it and Alhaitham was content to let him wave to his heart’s content.

Something on the far hill the otherworlder was rounding caught his eye. Just as his gaze settled on the hillside in confusion, a beam of light flashed into existence anchored to the point on the hill and continuing on into the night sky, a beam of light that cut right through the cluster of light that was the otherworlder.

A wretched, guttural, fear- and pain-filled scream tore itself from Kaveh as Alhaitham watched the otherworlder’s trajectory drop dangerously. The beam of light had been brief, like a lightning strike, and had burned itself across his vision. It made the details of the balcony hard to discern but he could see Kaveh enough to watch as the man finally tipped over the railing.

Alhaitham wrapped one arm around Kaveh’s waist as the other hooked around the front of Kaveh’s shoulder. He pulled Kaveh back, pinning the man to his chest even as Kaveh thrashed against him, desperate and panicked. “Kaveh,” he grunted, struggling to maintain his hold on Kaveh. “Calm down. We’ve gotta-”

A second beam of light shot into the sky, this time from a different location and far less blinding yet still very visible against the night sky. The otherworlder hadn’t yet managed to regain any of the altitude they had lost but they had made distance. Already they were nearly the size of any other star in the sky and the beam of light seemed as thin as spider silk. There was an interruption in the otherworlder’s path but they were too far away for Alhaithan to tell if the second beam had made contact.

“Go! Keep going!”

If Kaveh’s shouting was anything to go by, the otherwordler had managed to dodge that one.

“You can do it! Just get high enough! Come on! Get higher!”

Alhaitham lost track of the otherworlder as the distance between them grew too great. If he had to guess, the otherworlder had to be near Aaru Village at that point.

“Come on! One last burst! You can do it!”

Kaveh was trembling. He had probably been trembling since the moment Alhaitham had pulled him back from the rail but it was only as he turned his gaze from the sky that he noticed. Without thinking, he shifted his hold to check Kaveh over for injury, hands pressing against Kaveh’s sides, back, chest, but nothing broke Kaveh’s gaze. Nothing gained him so much as a hiss of pain or a flinch, not even when he pressed a spot that he knew was ticklish.

Irrational or not, he was immensely grateful the Empath ability was only of the mind and not shared by the body as well.

“Yes! Just a bit more and you’ll- NO!”

Kaveh lurched forward, breaking what measly hold Alhaitham had of him and slammed into the railing. The railing created the brief second Alhaitham needed to wrap his arms around Kaveh again and yank the fervent man back from sure death. Tears were streaming down Kaveh’s face, a sheen of sweat covering what exposed skin Alhaitham could see as Kaveh seemed unable to stand anymore. The trembling had turned into tremors yet Kaveh’s gaze never wavered. Alhaitham sank to his knees as carefully as he could with Kaveh pinned to his front.

Kaveh’s breath shuddered. “No, you have to- I know it hurts. It hurts so much.” An ache settled in Alhaitham’s chest. He had thought he had heard Kaveh speak in every way possible but this… “But you have to get higher. You have to get out of here. Come on. Just a bit more strength and you’ll…” For a moment those heartbroken words stilted to a stop. Alhaitham - foolishly - thought that was it; the otherworlder had pulled their strength together and was going home; but then Kaveh tensed against him. “No. No, don’t pass out,” Kaveh urged, frantic in a way his body seemed unable to replicate. “You have to get away. You have to- No! They’re there! Don’t fall asl- No, they’re right- NO!”

Kaveh lurched forward as if he could reach the otherworlder but Alhaitham moved with him, his arms tightening around Kaveh’s chest. Panic seized his chest when Kaveh’s dead weight nearly threw both of them to the floor. With a quick weight shift, he managed to drag Kaveh’s body around enough to get the other laying against him. That panic flared into terror at the thought of Kaveh keeling over dead from whatever connection he shared with the otherworlder flickered briefly into existence but the tremors were still going strong and Alhaitham could feel Kaveh’s chest rise and fall from where his hand was splayed on the other’s chest.

“Alhaitham?”

He looked up, startled by a voice he hadn’t heard in quite some time. There, standing on the railing as if she had floated down from the stars themselves, was the Dendro Archon. She hadn’t changed; she was still wearing that small dress of green and white on her small form with nothing on her feet. In contrast, the person who stood on the railing beside her Alhaitham only half recognized. The stranger was dressed in predominantly blues and black and had a wide brimmed hat from which a pair of ribbons hung from the back rim. He was certain he had seen them before but his mind refused to hand over a name.

He turned his attention back to the Dendro Archon. “Lesser Lord Kusanali.” The words scratched at his throat and fell heavily from his tongue. Five different questions tangled into a knot deeper down, choking off anything else he might have said. He flexed his jaw as anger churned through him. No, he refused to do this now. He had questions and at minimum he had to know why she was there.

“Oh no.” She hopped down from the railing, her eyes on Kaveh and a sad expression settling into place. The Dendro Archon settled on the ground at their side as she placed one of her hands on Kaveh’s arm. “I had hoped he hadn’t been bound so tightly when I had heard his screams.” She shifted back on her ankles, looking to her companion. “Wanderer, will you please take Kaveh to the Sanctuary for me and then send word for Tighnari in Gandharva Ville.”

Unfortunately, the name didn’t sound familiar.

The stranger huffed but stepped off the railing with an odd amount more grace than the Dendro Archon had. “Fine. But don’t expect to get anything other than an earful from that Forest Ranger when he chews you out for not taking him to any of the doctors here.”

Wanderer bent down to pick Kaveh up but paused when Alhaitham’s arms tightened. It had been instinct, he wanted to snap but the words wouldn’t come forth. Instead, he met the stranger’s incredulous gaze with a flat one of his own, daring them to do something about it even as he fought to relax his hold.

The Dendro Archon’s small hand settled against one of his arms. “It will be alright, Alhaitham. Wanderer won’t cause him any more harm. He will be well protected and well cared for in the Sanctuary.”

Alhaitham gritted his teeth, his grip flexing before finally going lax. Wanderer’s arms slipped under Kaveh, rubbing against Alhaitham’s chest and legs in turn. He expected the contact to be rough but the stranger’s movement was fluid and careful, even going as far as to make sure Kaveh was well situated before standing. A small fraction of his worry eased. “I’ll be back,” the stranger said before hopping up onto the railing. A burst of anemo energy churned the air on the balcony as the stranger stepped off and disappeared from sight.

“Do you know what happened?” the Dendro Archon asked.

Alhaitham shook his head. There was a weight on the back of his tongue, almost as if the words had physical form he had to talk around, and all he managed was a garbled, “Can guess,” out of the complete sentence he had wanted to say. He tried clearing his throat but that only made his throat feel more raw. “I…We saw…parts of it…from here.”

He clenched his jaw even as he sucked in a breath to try and calm down. To his relief, the Dendro Archon didn’t react to his stagnant speech.

“The first attack?”

He nodded. “And the second,” Alhaitham said. There was a tightness to his throat but talking was getting easier. “After that…I only had how…Kaveh reacted to go off of.” Another shuddering breath and slowly words were easier to say. “Kaveh had talked as if the otherworlder could hear him. He tried to convince them to leave while they still could but it…the third attack hit. Kaveh’s trembling had turned to tremors from it and the way Kaveh talked…” That ache returned, heavy and thick at the memory, stagnating his breath for a moment. “The rest of his words were too broken for a clear picture but I believe there was either a fourth attack or the otherworlder fell unconscious and into the awaiting arms of their attacker. He passed out with the last one, regardless.”

The Dendro Archon nodded her head. “From what little more I could see, it was the former, though that does not exclude the latter completely. However, it does create a problem. We can hope that they have landed far from the reach of those who were attacking them but if they truly landed in their arms…”

“We’re out of time.”

She nodded again. “I will send Wanderer with you but I suggest you take others with you. Not very many more, though. Too many and you risk being slowed down.”

“You’re sending me after them?”

Those large, not quite human green eyes focused on him curiously. “You know what is at stake if we take too long and I doubt we have time to fill many more in.” The Dendro Archon stood and brushed off her skirt as if it was dirty. “I will stay with Kaveh and make sure he is ok. On the off chance something goes wrong or if I find more information, I will do my best to let you know as soon as possible. I have never tried to communicate across that far of a distance before but in theory I should be able to reach Wanderer.”

Alhaitham frowned. “Reach?”

She held out her hands to him. “There are a few people who I can talk with, mmmm… telepathically, I guess you could call it.” When he didn’t react to her reach, she bent down and took hold of his hand. “Wanderer is one of them, though not by design.” Oh. She was trying to help him stand. He tucked his legs under and stood without putting his weight on her. “I can speak with the Traveler in the same manner, though that is due to everything that has happened. I will try reaching out to the Traveler as well but I have no idea if the connection is strong enough. It seemed improper to continue such ways of communicating while the Traveler wasn’t within the city, let alone Sumeru itself so I fear I won’t be able to bring the Traveler to your aid.”

“But if anything changes…”

“I’ll let you know through Wanderer.”

“Are my ears burning or are you two actually talking about me?”

Wanderer landed on the railing again. For a brief moment, Alhaitham caught sight of Wanderer’s hat as a halo of anemo energy before returning to its natural state. The Dendro Archon took a few steps towards Wanderer, answering, “I was letting Alhaitham know that you will be joining him to go find our guest.”

Wanderer raised an eyebrow at her as he crossed his arms. “Does it have to be me?”

The movement fluttered long strips of fabric hanging from the back of Wanderer’s outfit, strips of fabric that suddenly reminded Alhaitham of something similar. Alhaitham gathered up Kaveh’s split cape and his own.

“Yes. I want to make sure Alhaitham and those he chooses to go with him have another powerful Vision bearer at their side. Not to mention your talents will make finding our guest that much easier. Even with Alhaitham’s talents, you are able to get higher than Alhaitham is which will lend itself to tracking our guest or any of their pursuers.” The Dendro Archon was the size of a child and very much looked like one with her hands clasped behind her back and smiling gently up at an unamused Wanderer. “You can think of it as a task for me, if that helps.”

Wanderer scoffed. After a breath, Wanderer replied with a crisp, “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

The Dendro Archon looked to Alhaitham. “You will ask others to help you, won’t you?”

“It won’t be just the two of us,” he assured her, handing Kaveh’s split cape to the Dendro Archon. “Keep an eye on him for me.”

She offered him a rather sad sort of smile. “Do your best to return with little injury, as well.”

It went unspoken how bad it would be if Alhaitham never returned.

Alhaitham was unsurprised to see Cyno standing at the bridge to Aaru Village when he and Wanderer arrived. What did surprise him was who was standing next to him.

“I would have expected your duties with Aaru Village would have kept you from helping,” Alhaitham said.

Amusement flickered across Candace’s face. “That explains why I heard about this from Cyno. No, I made arrangements for Aaru Village in my absence after Cyno arrived last night asking about the shooting star. I saw where it fell and assumed it was best to simply join the expedition rather than give you a crude map, especially when he was unable to tell me who all was involved.”

Cyno shifted his weight as he spoke up. “I expect we will find Fatui at the heart of all this. Their activity has been unusually high in the areas where those beams of lights came from.” Cyno nodded towards Wanderer. “And if he is the only other person you’ve managed to get to join us, I would strongly suggest accepting Candace’s offer and have her join us as well.”

“I will not stop her from joining us if that is her choice. Has there been any evidence any of the Harbingers have been present?”

Wanderer snorted behind him as Cyno shook his head. “Not in the areas I’ve checked but that doesn’t mean we won’t find them where the otherworlder fell.”

“You’ll most definitely find one there. This was far too organized to just be some underlings doing their dirty work,” Wanderer put in, sounding a bit too pleased by that fact. Wanderer turned his gaze onto Alhaitham, a flat look crossing Wanderer’s face. “We don’t have time to stand around for pleasantries. Talk while we walk or I’m going on ahead.”

Alhaitham looked to Candace. “Lead the way.”

The trek from Aaru Village dagged and disappeared in equal parts. Once Candace announced they were reaching the area where the otherworlder had landed, they had nearly made it to the border of Sumeru. They walked parallel to the southern border scouring the sands for any sign of the otherworlder and Fatui activity. Wanderer went from walking among the group to using anemo energy to get as high as he could before gliding along their walking path, searching the dunes for any sign they were in the right area.

Wanderer caught sight of the crater at the same time Cyno caught sight of the Fatui. “Wait,” Cyno called out. Candace and Alhaitham stopped immediately. Candace stiffened on the edge of Alhaitham’s vision; she had spotted them before he had.

“The one we’re looking for crash landed a good few miles to the south,” Wanderer said as he landed in the middle of the group. “Doesn’t look like it matters, though. Those Fatui have left a nice line in the sand leading right to the crash site.”

“Is anyone able to make out the otherworlder?” Alhaitham asked, squinting in the direction of the tiny dark shapes off in the distance. The sand under his foot shifted and he found himself sinking knee deep into the dune. “Curses,” he muttered as he pulled himself free. “There’s sand in my shoes.”

Wanderer must have heard him because when he looked up as Cyno started talking, Wanderer was looking at Alhaitham with an incredulous look.

“Not yet but it’ll be dark soon. I say we tail them until they camp or, if they keep going, we use the darkness to our advantage and strike them as they move.”

Candace nodded in agreement. “We’ll only attack once we’ve got eyes on the otherworlder.” She looked to Wanderer. “You will be the fastest out of all of us so it would be best if you are the one to take the otherworlder and run. Cyno and Alhaitham can hold their attention and I will make sure you have cover.”

Wanderer turned his incredulous look onto Candace. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? I mean, the Dendro Archon did vouch for my strength and it’s not like going up against some Fatui underlings is anything new to me.”

“Then you will be able to protect the otherworlder on the off chance any get past me.” Candace looked to Alhaitham and Cyno. “Any objections?”

Alhaitham shook his head. Cyno voiced, “We’ll adapt as we need to. We still don’t know if they have any of the Harbingers with them.”

The Fatui didn’t stop to camp until the sun had long since disappeared below the horizon, a horizon that was only discernible due to the moonlight on the dunes. To Alhaitham’s surprise, Wanderer didn’t say anything about the plan again, not even as they moved to one side of the Fatui camp and Candace and Cyno went to the other.

“I see them,” Wanderer muttered suddenly. At a glance from Alhaitham, Wanderer pointed towards the back of the elongated Fatui camp, towards the darker reaches of the camp itself.

Alhaitham wasn’t sure how he hadn’t spotted them before. The otherworlder practically glowed in the moonlight, a mane of hair that looked nearly white spilling over the edges of whatever they were laid out on. The sheet that covered them looked dull in comparison.

Wanderer shifted in his peripheral, drawing Alhaitham’s gaze again. “Still no sign of any of the Harbingers.” A deep frown pulled across Wanderer’s face, barely visible in the shadow of his hat while his eyes seemed to glow as he met Alhaitham’s gaze. “The shorter the interaction we have with these Fatui, the better.”

Alhaitham was all for making this as short as possible.

He rushed into the air over the camp with a pull of dendro energy. He took half a second to note Cyno and Candace dashing in, illuminated by bursts of electro and hydro energy respectively, before plunging to the camp below. Immediately, dendro energy condensed and the chisel-light mirror already hovering behind and over his left shoulder gained a second as blade shaped dendro projections slammed into the ground, catching two Fatui by surprise and alerting the rest to his presence.

He directed the two chisel-light mirrors around to his front and spat, “Diffract,” as he sent them over the area before him. A small area was contained in dendro including a number of Fatui before reflecting dendro energy within for the few seconds it existed.

He hated the sensation of being nearly depleted of dendro energy.

With the burst spent, Alhaitham darted around and tagged as many of the Fatui as he could with dendro so that Candace and Cyno could cause more damage. Dendro cores started littering the camp Candace’s wake and Cyno’s electro attacks were sending them as sprawling shots into the Fatui.

A burst of anemo illuminated the darker reaches of the camp for a few precious seconds. Alhaitham’s gaze snapped to the area as smaller instances of anemo followed rapidly after. With a final swipe at the Fatui closest to him, he darted forward, tailing Candace as she converged on Wanderer’s location.

Wanderer gave one last vicious slash of anemo before Candace intercepted his assailants. Alhaitham rushed the Fatui at Wanderer’s back. Cyno seemed to come out of nowhere and overwhelmed the Fatui in his place, allowing Alhaitham the chance to make sure Wanderer had the otherworlder and a clear path out.

Alhaitham wasn’t sure what it was that had tipped him off - maybe it was Candace’s gaze locking onto something over his shoulder or maybe he picked up on the person’s presence without realizing it - but he lacked the dendro energy to rush out of harm's way like he instinctively wanted to. Pain ripped through his right side and it was all he could do to not stagger to his knees as the pain stole the strength from his right leg. He grabbed at the injury and was unsurprised when his hand pressed against wet fabric and raw skin. His stomach dropped out as he realized his hand would do little to stifle the bleeding. Something had torn open his side deep enough that just putting pressure on it was going to do absolutely nothing if he kept fighting.

“Fascinating.” He dragged a foot in the sand as he turned to face his assailant, watching as the new arrival twirled some sort of bladed weapon in their gloved hand. The blade glistened red. “I didn’t anticipate you moving so quickly without the use of dendro energy.” The blade snapped still. “I wonder if you can dodge this one, though?”

The new arrival gestured over their shoulder with the blade.

Alhaitham barely had half a second to even see the circle of bright light before a very familiar beam appeared. It was brief yet the camp went unnaturally dark when it vanished. Alhaitham staggered from attempting to dodge but he knew he hadn’t been fast enough on his own. The left side of his face felt like it had been burned and his left shoulder was uncomfortably hot even under the several layers that covered it. With a significant portion of his vision obscured by the afterimage, he barely made out the electro energy being expended as Candace came to his side.

She yanked on his arm towards the direction Wanderer had gone, shouting, “Go! Run!” before throwing herself into the fray to aid Cyno.

A part of him fought the notion of leaving the two of them behind. Logically he knew he couldn’t fight anymore but Cyno and Candace were no match for the new arrival. Not with whatever weapon had been fired at him. Even a glance towards the beam’s trail proved just how destructive that beam of light was. Anything that had been in the beam’s path bore a hole with scorched edges. The dunes beyond the camp had sections sagging and resettling, swaths of glass looking as if they were glittering as the sand shifted around them.

Had Cyno been any later, Alhaitham was certain he would have been killed.

Running was a challenge. While adrenaline had numbed his side, it numbed his legs too. He forced his legs through the motions but it felt like he was struggling through muck, seeming unable to run as fast as he normally would have been. As soon as he had enough dendro energy, he rushed into the air and glided towards the teal blip on the dune ridge that had to be Wanderer. His feet touched sand far too soon but it didn’t matter. He had to keep moving.

It wasn’t until he was nearly on top of them did he realize Wanderer had been followed by two Fatui.

Alhaitham slashed at one before catching the other with a dendro projection, drawing both of their attention to him. It wasn’t until he nearly got hit in the face by one of their attacks that he realized the dark spots in his vision weren’t the afterimage. Even if he suddenly had enough dendro energy for a rush, he knew it wouldn’t be enough to take care of the two in front of him.

Anemo energy overtook one of the Fatui before Alhaitham saw Wanderer land heavily in the sand, his hat returning to its original state. Taking Alhaitham’s place, Wanderer unleashed a burst of anemo energy that knocked one Fatui off their feet and made the other one stagger. Wanderer shoved at him. “Go take care of the otherworlder.” A vicious grin crossed Wanderer’s face. “I’ll deal with them.”

Despite how rapidly Wanderer had appeared, the otherworlder had been carefully placed into the warm sand, situated so that they were propped more as if they were sitting into the leeward side. Wanderer had taken pains to wrap the otherworlder snuggly in the sheet that had been draped over them as well as a second similar piece of fabric. Alhaitham wouldn’t be able to carry the otherworlder as Wanderer had been. He tugged at the wrappings to free the otherworlder’s limbs, leaving behind handprints and streaks of crimson in his wake. His hands shook as he buried his right knee in the sand and tugged at the otherworlder. Their deadweight was surprisingly less than he had expected, being enough pressure on his back for him to know they were still there but light enough that he didn’t actually feel encumbered. Or maybe that was the adrenaline. He hefted them higher on his back as he stood, his arms hooking under their knees to keep them in place.

A beam - larger this time than the one that had been aimed at him - obliterated a clear line through the dunes. For half a second, there was a gaping hole through several dunes and even from where he stood he could tell the beam had bore through the cliffs in the distance. Then gravity took hold of the free hanging sand and pulled.

The sand under his left foot gave way.

A massive portion of the dune was missing. Glass glistened on the edges of the damage and clearly marked where sand stopped and stone began. Be it by design or pure chance, the beam had cut through the dune grazing the top of bedrock. Only, instead of leaving a scrape of barren hard earth, the beam had revealed a cavity in the bedrock with a depth Alhaitham didn’t have time to guess at. The entirety of the dune was collapsing around Alhaitham and he was going down with it.

He pulled the otherworlder to his front and threw open his glider.

Even braced for the brief lurch in movement his vision blackened dangerously as he drifted towards the gaping hole beneath. There was very little he could do to get his vision back without simply waiting. It cleared enough for him to make out a light off towards his left, back in the direction of the Fatui camp.

Searing heat erupted across his upper back as an all too familiar lurch made his stomach drop out. He managed to open one eye enough to see a smudge of white and blue and teal quickly filling his vision before he succumbed to the pain and passed out.

Spoiler: Chapter 2 

Everything hurt.

His back felt like it was burned, his side felt like it was on literal fire, his pulse was pounding against the inside of his skull- everything hurt.

The worst of it all, though, was the nausea.

He wasn’t sure what had woken him or how he was even awake in the first place. Beyond the pain and the nausea, he was exhausted. It dragged at him, keeping him in a weird limbo between unconscious and alert to the point that he was certain he dreamt at times. There was no way he and Kaveh were out in the desert with him feeling like this but he had this vague impression of Kaveh against his burning side taking his weight, talking like always, - not that he could remember what Kaveh had even said - and the grit of sand in his shoes. There wasn’t enough sand near home for him to have it in his shoes so it had to be the desert; but there had also been so little light and the terrain didn’t give like sand normally did so it definitely had to be a dream.

The nausea got stronger.

He wasn’t going to be able to ignore it for much longer. He knew there was no avoiding it but he didn’t want to be sick. He hated it, hated every bit of it, and the thought of doing it with everything hurting-

Something rubbed at his face, something blessedly cool. It was a struggle to even get his eyes to open so it was no surprise when all he saw was a blur. What he could tell, though, was that Kaveh was beside him, caring for him like he always did.

He hated it. It always felt like he was doing the Empath a disservice by relying on the other to help him when he was sick like this. It wasn’t like Alhaitham couldn't take care of himself.

No, that wasn’t fair to Kaveh. The other man had been adamant about being able to help when Alhaitham was sick, repeating each time Alhaitham fought him on it that it was easier to help him than to let him waste away in his room until he got better. Occasionally Kaveh would mention it was another way to pay Alhaitham back for letting him live in Alhaitham’s home but Alhaitham hated that even more.

The nausea swelled.

He sucked in a breath against it. Kaveh’s hand was on his shoulder, a weight Alhaitham was sure was meant to comfort, but he pushed against it anyway. “G’nnu,” he forced around the nausea, “be sick.”

Kaveh pulled away sharply. Briefly Alhaitham wondered where he was going only to have his entire focus be brought back sharply to the point that he was going to be sick and soon. The only challenge was that moving was going to be nearly impossible as shifting to roll sent waves of agony through him.

The nausea was bolstered by it and he really was going to be sick.

Kaveh - blessed Kaveh - was back and practically manhandled Alhaitham through the pain. Alhaitham tried to quell the nausea long enough but as soon as he was even remotely leaning over, the nausea won out.

How was it possible that everything could hurt more? Tremors skittered down his spine and shook his arms but he couldn’t tell if he was shivering from a fever or from the agony. Kaveh was the only reason he was even remotely upright. His vision swam too much to see if he had managed to not be sick all over Kaveh. “S’rry, Kaveh,” he mumbled, though Kaveh’s name was more like a breath than an actual word.

He flinched as something pressed against his face, not that he got very far. It took too long for his brain to figure out Kaveh was cleaning his face. He tried to keep his head still for the other man but it quickly grew too heavy. His forehead rested against something warm - Kaveh’s shoulder or neck had to be close so it was probably propped there - and unless Kaveh moved him, that was where it was staying.

A new thing pressed against his lips. It startled him back into a weak attempt at awareness.

“Drink.” The word sounded weird, almost like it wasn’t Kaveh’s voice but, no, that wasn’t right. Who else would it be other than Kaveh?

Cool water was tipped into his mouth, disrupting his thoughts as he became hyper aware of how dry his mouth and throat were, how his throat burned, and how good the water tasted. He greedily drank until Kaveh was forced to remove his access to it. “Hey,” was sharp and quick, offended on the edges even, “not so fast or you’re going to make yourself sick again.”

No longer feeling nauseous, exhaustion overwhelmed him. He gave a hum because the words - if any - wouldn’t form even if he tried. Kaveh’s presence and warmth only encouraged the exhaustion and he passed out again.

Waking was slow but his head was clear despite the ache that had settled in it while he had been unconscious. He must have hit his head somewhere on the way down. That or the pain was giving him a headache. His upper back hurt, like it was raw, and fleetingly he wondered if he had scraped it during the dune collapse - would explain how he had hit his head - but it was overshadowed by the injury on his right side.

His entire right side felt like it was on fire, from under his pectoral down into the leg joint and easily halfway into the rest of his torso. Whoever had sliced into him had apparently missed anything vital because he was still alive after however long he’d been unconscious. His pulse was even steady; he could feel it in the depths of his headache.

A shudder skittered down his spine. There was going to be sand in the wound. There was going to be sand everywhere and trying to clean and dress the wound was going to be infuriatingly difficult.

It didn’t matter. He had to get up and get the otherworlder out of there. There was no telling how long until Fatui found them and he had lingered long enough.

Still, though, he allowed himself a few breaths in the hollow ache that gnawed at his chest, indulging in the need to worry after Kaveh as if it would do either of them any good. Had he dreamt between falling into the dune and waking, he would not be surprised to learn it had been about Kaveh with how thick the hollow ache was. Unfortunately, the dream had slipped through his fingers long before he had woken up, leaving him to speculate instead and he could do that while he got the otherworlder and himself somewhere safer.

Opening his eyes only made the world spin around him and he quickly closed them before the spinning could make him nauseous. Right now nausea was the last thing he wanted to deal with, especially with how much his side already hurt. Exhaustion hadn’t left his body as it had his mind. His left arm felt heavy and slow to respond as he raised it. Holding his side was going to be excruciating but he couldn’t risk-

A hand grabbed at his wrist accompanied by a rush of air. Alhaitham’s eyes snapped open as adrenaline erased the weight of his limbs for the heart stopping seconds it took for his vision to steady. “Don’t,” accompanied the grab, and while the word was crisp and sharp, the hostility was feigned at best. Instead of pain or a yank of some fashion, the hand around his wrist was firm but careful to not cause pain as his arm was directed back to his side. The blotch over him, pale and dark in almost equal parts, moved with the unexpected handling. The only thing that kept him from fighting back was the blotch being too small to be one of the Fatui. “You move too much and you ruin all my hard work.”

The voice clicked before his vision cleared and the realization stole the tension from his body.

Wanderer was leaning over him. Once his vision cleared, he could see that the other was without both hat and outer layers, leaving Wanderer to look even smaller than he already was. Wanderer had settled into a sitting position at his side, not that there was much room to be anywhere else. The way the ceiling curved and what walls Alhaitham could see spoke of a small hollow in the stone. If there was any sort of opening, Alhaitham couldn’t see it. There was a single weak source of light somewhere above and to the right of Alhaitham’s head and it left half of Wanderer’s face in shadow until the other faced the light source, messing with something.

“I don’t even know why I talk to you. It’s not like you’re even awake enough to listen to me.” Despite the annoyed - and slightly pained - look on Wanderer’s face when the other turned back, Wanderer’s touch was incredibly gentle as he slipped a hand under Alhaitham’s head and lifted it so Alhaitham could take a drink of what looked like water. His left hand came up again before he could think better on it and Wanderer glared at the offending limb, pressing the bottom of the cup into Alhaitham’s arm to force the limb back to Alhaitham’s side. “What did I just say?”

“C’n m’self,” he managed around a lead tongue and dry throat. Only, the poorly spoken words scratched at his throat and immediately threw him into a coughing fit. The cup was against his lips and water pouring into his mouth before he had managed more than the initial cough. The cool water soothed most of the irritation but the urge to cough didn’t go away. Even when the last of it slid down Alhaitham’s throat, he started coughing again, though with less scratching and sounding a lot less dry.

“Idiot.” Despite the intended bite of the word, Wanderer quickly put the cup down and slipped his arm under Alhaitham’s shoulders. With apparent ease, the smaller had him half upright and turned into Wanderer, protecting Alhaitham’s right side as much as possible.

The fit was short but it irritated everything. Wanderer shifted under him and Alhaithaim braced to be laid back down but instead, a strong smell made him crinkle his nose and urged his mild headache into something that was harder to ignore. Nausea slapped him in the face and he swallowed against it, willing it away before it grew uncontrollable. “What-” he started, before something cold was pressed to the center of the burning on his upper back. He sagged into Wanderer with a low groan as the burning and irritation was soothed by the cool substance. Without so much as a word, Wanderer finished lathering his back before pressing something against the substance, possibly a strip of cloth or hide to keep the substance and burn protected.

It took a good while before he realized he ought to be surprised by the lack of comment, too lost in his relief that Wanderer hadn’t said anything about, well, any of it.

Alhaitham tried to assist Wanderer in laying him back down but when all it did was make his side flare and pull a sharp hiss of pain from him, Wanderer tightened his grip, forcing Alhaitham to give Wanderer his weight again. “The Akademiya's Scribe is a fool,” Wanderer ground out. Even without seeing it, Alhaitham could feel Wanderer glaring at the back of his head. “Your stubbornness is only making it worse. This would be so much easier if you were properly unconscious.”

“I would gladly be unconscious if that was an option,” he drawled back, though his snide remark lacked the bite he intended, making him sound tired. “Unfortunately, I am very much awake.”

Wanderer tensed under him but it was fleeting. “Oh. Good.” Wanderer's voice flattened. “Don’t fight me or I will drop you.”

There was the initial, involuntary flex when Wanderer started moving him but Alhaitham managed to quell it and Wanderer didn’t drop him. As Wanderer’s hand slipped from behind his head, he couldn’t help the fleeting thought that the threat had been an empty one.

It took a moment of Wanderer fiddling with something before Alhaitham managed to word his question. “How long has it been since the dune collapsed?”

“A few days, give or take.” Water was poured into a small container, most likely the cup. “Their little light trick dumped us into a cave system that doesn’t seem to have an exit; well, beyond the hole they bore into it and they’re currently camping that particular exit.”

“Have you managed to explore much of it?”

Wanderer turned back to him with the cup in hand. “Hardly. The Fatui are everywhere and leaving you alone with the otherworlder hasn’t been an option.”

Alhaitham recoiled from the smell, the nausea quickly going from low level to holding the majority of his attention as Wanderer pinned his left hand again. “That smells horrendous,” Alhaitham bit out, glaring at Wanderer.

Wanderer glared back. “It’s supposed to help your injuries but if you’d rather be in pain-”

“I would rather not be sick.”

Wanderer stilled before his gaze shifted to something flat but less abrasive. “You have to get something in you. Your wounds are a hindrance and if you really do end up being sick again, you’re only going to get worse.”

Again? “Dehydration is the main concern-”

Wanderer cut him off. “And so is a lack of energy. I can’t carry you and the otherworlder, now can I? And we both know who I’m ditching when it comes to that.”

Involuntarily, the moment on the balcony where the Dendro Archon was telling him to come home flickered across the forefront of his thoughts. He didn’t need to be reminded of it to know who was the priority here. “Being sick risks making my side worse,” Alhaitham said calmly, albeit tightly. “As long as I'm able to keep down water, anything else can wait until the nausea goes away.”

Wanderer let out a tsk as it seemed Alhaitham won that particular argument. Wanderer sat back, gaze going towards the light source as he moved to deal with the cup. Wanderer’s gaze suddenly narrowed and Alhaitham heard the splash of water on stone as Wanderer rose to his knees.

Alhaitham opened his mouth to ask but Wanderer covered it, pinning Alhaitham’s head in place as Wanderer leaned over him, tugging at something Alhaitham couldn’t see. “We have to move,” Wanderer said, the words barely more than a breath. “I’m going to get you on your feet but you will have to walk on your own.” For a moment, Wanderer’s expression twisted with something Alhaitham couldn’t decipher as the smaller leaned back. “Do what you can to not make your side worse. Don’t need you bleeding out.”

Wanderer grabbed Alhaitham’s left hand and brought it to the injury. Alhaitham noticed the wrappings for the split second before the excruciating pain crashed over him. He was certain he would have screamed had it not been for Wanderer’s hand still covering his mouth. A heavy sweat broke out as he heaved air through his nose, desperately willing the nausea to subside.

Wanderer’s hand slipped from his mouth and he greedily sucked in deeper breaths.

He was going to be sick.

“Don’t let up on the pressure,” Wanderer warned him as Wanderer’s hands moved.

Alhaitham was shivering by the time Wanderer got him on his feet and wrapped a swath of fabric around Alhaitham’s bare torso. Vaguely Alhaitham wondered what had happened to his shirt. His sleeves were missing too. Wanderer leaned him against the wall near the exit before disappearing. He couldn’t quite feel his legs and the nausea had settled into the hollow of his throat, a solid weight that only made his torso feel heavier. When Wanderer returned, it was to pause at his side long enough for Alhaitham to see the otherworlder unconscious in Wanderer’s arms. “Head down the tunnel. I’ll erase any tracks you leave behind.”

Alhaitham shoved off the wall and started to walk.

It was more of a trudge than anything else as feeling never returned to his legs but Wanderer never told him to pick up the pace. The pain in his side subsided to a dull roar but the nausea never calmed down. It made tracking time impossible and the distance feel exponentially longer. He lost himself in the monotony of it to the point that when Wanderer touched his back, he startled and stumbled over his own two feet before Wanderer’s hand found the crook of Alhaitham’s elbow and pulled him to a stop.

“Over here,” Wanderer directed.

Wanderer led Alhaitham to the other side of the tunnel where a narrow crevice was hidden behind a wall of stone. How Wanderer had seen it in the dim tunnel, Alhaitham couldn’t fathom; Alhaitham was barely managing to not run into any walls. Wanderer tucked the otherworlder into the crevice before turning to Alhaitham. “I have to deal with the Fatui tailing us. Are you going to stay standing?” Alhaitham nodded. He felt absolutely horrible but if he sat down, he knew it would only be worse getting up to move again. “Then stay here and stay quiet.”

“Wanderer,” he bit out but the smaller was already slipping back down the tunnel. Alhaitham belatedly realized that Wanderer was wearing his hat again. With a frustrated sigh, he shuffled into the crevice without stepping on the otherworlder and let the stone take his weight.

Alhaitham lost time. The fighting echoed through the tunnel but he couldn’t quite remember if it had been going for a while or had just started by the time he became aware of it. He let it take his attention and tried to track the fight on sound alone.

Something scraped against the stone wall not far from the crevice’s entrance and Alhaitham’s mouth went dry. With adrenaline surging through his veins, he slowly took his weight off the wall. His legs felt like they were quaking under him even though he could hardly feel them but he barely noticed, all of his attention on the crevice entrance. He didn’t dare summon his sword but he pooled the necessary energy to do so in his hand, ready to pull it out of subspace at the first hint of an enemy.

A shadow filled the entrance and Alhaitham tensed.

There was a flash of light that was quickly followed by a cry, though be it of pain or anger, Alhaitham couldn’t tell. The shadow disappeared only to be replaced by another.

“Cry louder!” filled the crevice with a burst of anemo that tugged vehemently at Alhaitham. He sagged back against the wall, recognizing that shout more than he had expected to.

The fight wore on but that was the only altercation near the crevice. Alhaitham jolted upright when something touched his arm but only found Wanderer standing in the remaining crevice space. Wanderer looked a bit battered but whole, even a touch pissed as the scowl faded. “All clear. Come on.”

Alhaitham stepped out of the crevice and settled against the wall so that he could watch Wanderer. Be it exhaustion or a lack of caring, Alhaitham found the pair of words that had been dancing among his thoughts slip off his tongue. “Hat Guy.”

Wanderer’s head whipped around, confusion and apprehension warring on the smaller’s expression despite the sharp smirk Wanderer sent his way. “What you do; hit your head while you were in here?”

“Ah, no.” Alhaitham dug the heel of a hand into an eye, trying to stave off the pressure of a headache. “I was trying to figure out why you looked familiar since the night on the balcony.” Wanderer gained a flat look and Alhaitham was oddly reminded of Kaveh. “I am aware of the irregularity with my lack of recall after Jiwani and the Emerites-”

“Two weeks ago,” Wanderer snapped, standing abruptly. His grip on the otherworlder was sure; the unconscious figure didn’t even shift with the jarring movement. “You’re expecting me to believe you forgot about someone in a matter of days-”

Alhaitham cut him off, too tired to deal with an argument. “I am aware of how it sounds. I can assure you, you are not special in this.” Wanderer’s expression darkened. “Even if I hadn’t been sick shortly after the event, I would have had a hard time placing where I knew you from. Names are far easier to remember than the faces that go with them.” He met Wanderer’s glare head on, reiterating with a bitter tone, “I don’t forget people and their actions; I forget their faces.”

Wanderer’s gaze narrowed and for a moment, they stood there before Wanderer huffed and looked away. “Whatever. Keep going that way.”

When Wanderer stopped him again, the smaller got in front of him and slowed to a stop. The tunnel was crossing several others in quick succession but instead of just continuing down any number of them, Wanderer’s gaze drifted around almost as if he was listening for something.

The sound of running water drifted from the tunnel opening just behind Alhaitham’s right shoulder.

“You hear it too.” Alhaitham looked back at Wanderer and found an interested expression focused on the tunnel. “Let’s see if we can find its source.”

The tunnel floor went from sand to stone before long and Wanderer moved to take the lead. It wasn’t until Alhaitham felt something brush against his head that he noticed the tunnel was shrinking slowly around them. Wanderer glanced back when Alhaitham started to drag a hand along the ceiling but said nothing. Alhaitham wondered if he looked as sick as he felt.

“Here.” Alhaitham jerked to a stop half hunched in the ever shrinking tunnel coming out of the daze he had been walking in. Wanderer was moving away towards the left but there was no risk of losing sight of him. The tunnel had come to an end into a pocket that had a high ceiling and was significantly wider than the tunnel. Crystals glowing with some sort of light sporadically jutted out from the walls, the selfsame crystals that had been sparsely illuminating the tunnel they had been walking down. A significant amount of water was pouring into the space from the wall Wanderer was approaching, creating a pool at the base of the wall before flowing towards the opposite wall and through a crack in the stone. The widest portion of that stretch of underground river Alhaitham could almost step over if he wanted to. That wide portion also looked incredibly shallow, possibly no more than ankle deep.

“Hey.” He looked over from where he still stood hunched over with a hand on the ceiling. Whatever expression Wanderer wore, Alhaitham couldn’t make it out and the smaller’s words gave nothing away. “I won’t be able to catch you if you collapse way over there.”

Wanderer had situated the otherworlder into a nook near the pool by the time Alhaitham managed to join him. Wanderer stood and without a word wrapped his arms around Alhaitham’s chest and took his weight. It wasn’t the most graceful descent but Wanderer was steady under him and made sure Alhaitham didn’t end up injuring himself more.

“I’m going to take care of the otherworlder’s injuries first.” Wanderer shoved something edible into Alhaitham’s hand and situated a cup of water within reach. “Eat that and drink all of the water.” Wanderer glared at him. “And don’t fight me on it. I’m not above forcing you.”

Alhaitham raised the edible thing - he knew what it was but the name eluded him - and took a bite of the shaped rice ball. The rice was mildly fragrant and he was grateful there was no filling.

Wanderer watched him until he took a second bite before turning to the otherworlder.

“How bad are their injuries?” Alhaitham asked before popping the last bite of rice into his mouth and picking up the cup.

“Serious but nothing as life threatening as the one you’ve got. Anything that could bleed was cauterized by that beam and now it’s just making sure the scabs don’t dry out.”

Wanderer picked up an unwrapped otherworlder who was bare except for what looked like skin tight shorts and kicked off his shoes before stepping into the pool. Immediately Wanderer was crotch deep in the water as he was forced to sit on the edge to try and reach the bottom with his foot. Seemingly unbothered by the situation, Wanderer simply eased the otherworlder into the water until he was able to get a hand free. In the blink of an eye, Wanderer was in the water as well, the level settling just below his ribs as he floated the otherworlder about. After a moment of wandering the small pool, Wanderer situated the otherworlder on the stretch leading to the other end of the cavern just before the underground river flattened out.

The water darkened as Wanderer washed the otherworlder’s injuries, the darkened water swirling around the pair before being caught in the current and sent downstream. Wanderer’s description of the otherworlder’s injuries had been severely lacking. The entirety of the otherworlder’s left side was completely charred as was most of their back. Portions of the injury were a raw red, almost as if they were bleeding without actually bleeding, and most of the charred areas looked like they had deep, painful cracks running all throughout. There were two other burns, one covering the right shin and another on the right side of their neck that stretched over the top of their shoulder and caught the bottom of their ear.

“Have they woken at all?” Alhaitham asked.

“Not that I’ve noticed.”

Alhaitham finished off the water. The cup clattered a bit louder against the stone than he had intended. “Hopefully that means they are oblivious to the pain.”

The sounds of the running water and Wanderer moving about the pool did little to keep the exhaustion from pulling him under.

“Hey, wake up.” Alhaitham blinked blearily at Wanderer as the smaller pushed another onigiri into his hand. “Finish that while I finish up with the otherworlder.”

Seemed his brain finally woke up, not that he was sure how he had forgotten the name of the shaped rice ball to begin with. Alhaitham lifted the onigiri and took a bite, finding to his surprise more than just rice this time. Hunger gnawed at him and he took a larger bite. Wanderer, with a satisfied look, put another onigiri on Alhaitham’s chest before going back to the otherworlder.

It wasn’t until he bit into the second one that he realized the nausea was gone for the first time in far too long. Instead, the gnawing hunger had taken its place and he was not about to complain about that.

Wanderer smeared a substance over the otherworlder's injuries before protecting the injuries and rewrapping the otherworlder. Alhaitham suddenly realized why Wanderer was missing his outerwear: he had used it as bandages.

“Nausea’s gone, then?” Wanderer asked as he squatted at Alhaitham’s side. Wanderer seemed oddly subdued. Maybe it was exhaustion.

“For the time being.” Alhaitham flinched when Wanderer pressed on the bandage covering his side, though the pain was less than he had expected. Wanderer must not have pressed on the gash itself.

Wanderer’s expression tightened. “I have to wash it again.”

Alhaitham flinched again and it wasn’t because of Wanderer’s touch. “It can wait,” he said because it had to wait. He couldn’t deal with that sort of pain right now, not when the nausea had finally subsided and he was being able to eat. Wanderer’s expression held an apprehension he found himself echoing. Not unless they didn’t have a choice. “Unless we can’t stay.”

Wanderer shook his head. “We don’t have to move yet but I’d rather not push our luck anymore than I have to.” Wanderer stood up. “See if you can get some more sleep, then. I’ve got bandages to wash anyway.”

Oh. It was the abrasiveness. For some reason, Wanderer wasn’t being the abrasive stranger he had been earlier. Alhaitham wondered if it really was due to exhaustion or if a part of Wanderer’s abrasiveness was for show.

Time was impossible to track without something more substantial than running water and Wanderer washing things in the pool. Alhaitham wasn’t sure if it had taken a matter of seconds or a good portion of an hour to pass out again but it felt as if he had just fallen asleep when pain flared in his side and dragged him back awake. A breathy noise escaped him as he shifted about as if it would alleviate the pain, but Wanderer’s hands found his shoulder and abdomen, the smaller’s words not far behind. “You’re ok; it’s just the bandage. It’s sticking.” Wanderer held Alhaitham’s watery gaze for a moment before sitting back, his right hand ghosting over the wound. “Seems like you’re going to have to be awake for this.” Wanderer stood up. “The water is warmer than it looks and it would probably do you some good to get a proper wash. Soaking the bandage might help remove it.”

It wasn’t until silence stretched between them that he realized Wanderer was waiting for some sort of reply. “You’re…what, asking for permission? If I had remained unconscious, you would have simply moved me into the pool without hesitation.”

Wanderer glared at him but it was negated by how tense the other had become. “I can leave you in your own blood and sweat if you want. I don’t have to be doing any of this for you.”

It was the first time Alhaitham saw Wanderer be put on edge not by a threat, but by embarrassment. It was…strangely reassuring. It gave the aloof stranger that Wanderer was a more human appearance. It lent to the impression that Wanderer wanted to help but the abrasive persona that the other was maintaining wouldn’t allow for such soft emotions. It was a rather endearing impression even if it wasn’t accurate.

It made him think of Kaveh.

He hoped Kaveh was ok.

Alhaitham carefully rested his left hand on his injury. “I would appreciate the assistance, if you are willing to give it.”

It wasn’t until Wanderer started pulling off Alhaitham’s shoes that he realized the other part of Wanderer’s unease with the whole situation. The next moment was going to be oddly intimate for both of them, especially since this would be the first time Alhaitham was properly coherent during such care. Alhaitham was very much aware of how much help he was going to need to just get into the pool, let alone tending to anything else, and while Wanderer certainly wasn’t at the top of his list of people he’d want helping, he certainly wasn’t near the bottom either.

That did not stop heat from filling his face as Wanderer placed his hands on Alhaitham’s thighs and said with that familiar abrasive edge, “Unless you want wet pants, I’m taking these off.”

“I know.” Both a lie and the wrong words. There was no point in sharing that he had not in fact realized that was going to be a part of the whole process and simply corrected his statement. “I would rather have dry pants, especially if we have to leave before they have a chance to dry.”

He went to add more but Wanderer was already moving. “Fantastic.” It sounded sarcastic but the abrasiveness was gone again. “Resist helping if you can. I don’t want to deal with your side bleeding freely again on top of everything.”

Wanderer made quick work of stripping Alhaitham of his pants, even taking care to shake them out and do a quick fold before setting them aside. The pants ended up being the only hiccup as Wanderer helped Alhaitham up and into the pool with no comment beyond the occasional direction.

The water was indeed warmer than Alhaitham had expected. The water flowing into the pool from the wall was cold but a secondary flow was obviously heated. Wanderer didn’t give Alhaitham a chance to figure out where the heated water was seeping in from. The moment Wanderer had Alhaitham in the pool properly, he was pulling Alhaitham back and off his feet, forcing Alhaitham to float on his back as Wanderer dragged him to the same spot he had washed the otherworlder in. The water there was the perfect warmth that nearly had Alhaitham asleep again as Wanderer moved him onto a submerged shelf of sort off angle from the downstream flow.

“I need to wash your back.”

Alhaitham lifted his head out of the water and moved to roll over, forgetting for a moment that Wanderer would do it for him. Wanderer’s hands found his chest and arm, stalling his movement long enough for the smaller to get into a better position. Sure enough, Wanderer didn’t let Alhaitham help and rolled him onto his stomach, ever mindful of injuries. Alhaitham did tuck his left arm under his head, though, to keep his head out of the water as Wanderer got to work.

Pain prickled on his back not unlike washing a still partially raw sunburn. Even being in the half asleep state the water had lulled him into wasn’t enough to keep the sensation from drawing his attention, especially when he couldn’t immediately recall what had happened to his back. He remembered the dune collapsing beneath his feet and was fairly certain he had handled the situation properly but what exactly he had done to his back wasn’t coming to mind.

“Seems the food actually did something,” Wanderer commented, breaking the silence with a voice that was quieter than Alhaitham had expected. “This doesn’t look like it’s part of the otherworlder anymore.”

‘Part of the otherworlder’? Alhaitham opened his eyes but found his need to ask after the comment suddenly lacking. In quick succession, the thoughts of the otherworlder went to the otherworlder’s injuries which had to be the only point of similarity which also meant that at some point one of those beams had caught him across the back of his shoulders.

Wanderer stilled in the water beside him. He looked back, finding a curious but closed off look on Wanderer’s face. “You don’t remember getting hit by it.”

Alhaitham frowned. Had he said something or had Wanderer just picked up on Alhaitham’s realization? Not that it mattered now. He settled against the stone in lieu of shrugging. “No.” No, wait. That wasn’t accurate. He could half remember throwing open his glider and it failing shortly thereafter, but it was such a vague impression, he wasn’t sure if it was real. “Not completely. A lot after I was stabbed is hazy, especially around the dune collapsing. I remember the sand giving out underfoot but that’s about it. I had assumed I had hit my head and back but that left a gap of time I couldn’t account for.”

Alhaitham didn’t even notice the silence between them until Wanderer spoke again what had to have been minutes later. “They shot two beams at us,” Wanderer said, his voice sure but only loud enough to fill the small space around them. “The first took out the dune beneath you.” A pause, like Wanderer was pulling in a breath. “The second caught you across the back.” Wanderer’s tone shifted into something more teasing, something sharper. Abrasive. “Whatever glider you had doesn’t exist anymore. Hope you weren’t attached to it.”

Alhaitham opened his eyes and watched the water lap at the pool’s edge for a moment before looking back at Wanderer. “Where were you?”

Wanderer stilled, hands carefully splayed over Alhaitham’s back. There was a shuttered look to Wanderer’s expression even with how neutral the other had managed to make it. “Above you.” Wanderer blinked and went back to washing Alhaitham’s back, hands rubbing beyond the injury to clear off grime and whatever else clung to him. The touch remained firm enough to clean but gentle enough that it could be counted as caring. “Was expecting to grab the otherworlder from a dead body when I dived after you.”

There was a flicker of a smudge of white and blue and teal across his memory with the echo of pain. “How was landing with both of us?”

Wanderer pressed a hand to the front of Alhaitham’s hip and gripped Alhaitham’s arm, giving Alhaitham just a second to register what Wanderer was doing before he was flipped over. “I managed not to injure you both more, at least.”

Alhaitham flinched as Wanderer’s fingers slipped under the bandages even though no pain followed the action. He forced himself to relax, to keep talking. “What about yourself?”

Wanderer shrugged but didn’t answer. Instead, Wanderer gave him a hard look. “I’m going to start pulling this off. Do your best to not scream.”

“Do your best to not hurt me.” It came out with far less bite than he had intended. He wasn’t even sure he had managed to keep his unease out of his words either.

Surprisingly, Wanderer’s expression softened. “Of course. I’m not cruel.”

Alhaitham leaned his head back and closed his eyes, unable to keep the stress from showing with how deliberate he kept his breathing. Wanderer’s fingers against Alhaitham’s skin held Alhaitham’s attention. He desperately tried to get his mind to focus on his breath or something - anything - that wasn’t Wanderer’s fingers but his mind wouldn’t relent. He was hyper-aware of Wanderer tugging at the bandages, unwrapping what he could until something snagged. Alhaitham’s breath hitched as faint pain skittered along the injury from the slight tug. Wanderer seemed to pause over him but when Alhaitham forced his breathing to continue, the other started to work the bandage free. No matter how slow and careful Wanderer was, the pain increased and started to dig deep into his side, sending a weird numbness into the rest of his body. More than anything, nausea was coiling in his gut stealing what little attention remained.

Wanderer’s hand - heavy and warm - splayed over the center of his chest; Alhaitham gripped at it, not even realizing he had done so until he registered air on his wet hand. “Hey, I’m almost done but you need to keep breathing for me.”

Alhaitham sucked in a breath through his nose, held it, and breathed out through his mouth only to hold that exhale before breathing in through his nose again. He hated it, hated breathing like that, but all he could remember was Kaveh walking him through those very steps over and over during the harder moments while he had been sick and how it seemed to work to some level. Every little tug disrupted his thoughts, though, and he would lose focus. Wanderer’s voice suddenly filled the air as a rumble of directions to be followed. The smaller counted and directed him through the breathing steps until the words all muddled together in his head with the nausea and half pain and-

“Done. It’s off,” Wanderer said abruptly, breaking into Alhaitham’s churning thoughts. Wanderer gave Alhaitham’s hand a squeeze; he realized Wanderer hadn’t pulled his hand out from under his and had instead curled his fingers around Alhaitham’s own. “I still have to make sure it's clean but I’ll need my hand back for that. I need to get the injury out of the water.”

He didn’t want to let go. It was an irrational desire to hold on to some semblance of a safety tether and he knew it but it still took longer than he cared for to let go. Wanderer didn’t say anything about it and simply moved Alhaitham higher on the ledge, adjusting him slightly to get the entirety of the injury out of the water. The nausea settled thick in Alhaitham’s chest.

“It looks better than the last time I looked at it,” Wanderer said, fingers pressing along the injury and drawing out a pained gasp from Alhaitham. He was sure Wanderer hadn’t actually touched anything raw but it had certainly felt like it. “There’s some bleeding but it looks like it’s probably from the bandage sticking more than anything else.”

“That’s good,” Alhaitham managed to ground out.

Wanderer’s hand found his chest again for a brief moment. “I’m going to make sure it’s clean now. Try to bear with it.”

The nausea spiked as the weird numbness rushed through him. He did what he could to keep the nausea in his throat but it was a losing battle. If Wanderer didn’t finish soon, Alhaitham was going to be sick regardless if the other was done or not.

The world moved without him.

What little hold he had on the nausea broke and he was immediately sick. It was short lived - thankfully - but the nausea still sat in his throat so thick he wasn’t sure why his body thought it was done.

Something pressed against his chest. Confused, Alhaitham opened his eyes to find himself on his good side with Wanderer’s hip against the center of his back. He realized it was Wanderer’s arm draped over his chest only when it moved as Wanderer looked down at him. There was something tight in Wanderer’s expression. “I have to touch it again; I’m not quite done yet.”

Alhaitham closed his eyes at that. Of course there was. “Then finish,” he bit out, his breathing picking up.

Wanderer didn’t give him a warning. The nausea thick in his throat overwhelmed him but the weird numbness was faster and stole his consciousness instead. If he ended up sick a second time, he couldn’t remember it as he came to.

Wanderer had returned him to where he had been laying - or close enough to - with dry bandages wrapped around his middle. Wanderer was shoving Alhaitham’s left shoe back on when the smaller noticed Alhaitham watching him through half lidded eyes. “All clean and bandaged up,” Wanderer said, finishing with Alhaitham’s shoe. “Still nauseous?”

Yes but not in the way Wanderer was asking about. “Hungry.”

Wanderer gave him a skeptical look as the smaller settled at his side. “You’re hungry?”

Alhaitham shrugged his left shoulder. He was too tired to explain the oddity that was most of him. It didn’t seem that Wanderer had been looking for an actual answer anyway as he pulled a pair of onigiri from subspace and placed them on Alhaitham’s chest before grabbing a pair for himself. Silence settled between them as they ate and Alhaitham let his thoughts wander. For the first few moments his thoughts drifted over the subject of subspace storage and how different their situation would have been had any of them required a bag to carry food and water at minimum. This water source would have been a godsend and any food would have had to have been scavenged. Not to mention the healing energy some crafted foods carried would have been sorely lacking in whatever food they would have found.

Alhaitham looked at the last of his second onigiri. “Do these have healing energy?”

Wanderer popped the last of a fourth onigiri in his mouth. “Not as much as you clearly need.” Wanderer pulled out another pair and placed them on Alhaitham’s chest. “I’m not a healer and these have lost what potency I had managed to get in them.”

Alhaitham let the onigiri sit on his chest as Wanderer stood and moved towards the otherworlder. There were many aspects of the subspace storage system that was still being studied, including how it kept things fresh far longer than what should be possible yet drained healing energy from the food the longer the food remains within. If he remembered correctly, the research team on that particular study had just applied for more funding. Hopefully it had been approved.

Fabric fluttered over him, startling him out of his thoughts. Wanderer either hadn’t noticed or completely ignored Alhaitham’s jerk back to alertness and snagged the uneaten onigiri before settling the fabric over Alhaitham’s shoulders. “Go back to sleep sleep. I’m going to see how close the Fatui have gotten and probably divert them while I’m at it.”

“Don’t do anything too reckless.”

Wanderer snorted as he stood, his reply cocky but less abrasive that before. “Please. As if I would do anything as stupid as risk my neck for you two.”

[ArtisticVicu]

RPA Fall Event 2023
An Assortment of Writings

"Reality hits you when a burnt orange leaf twirls down from above and brushes against your right shoulder. No. This is definitely not Downtown.

You are in a glen. Alone.

Only soft buzzing noises and a gently bubbling brook accompany you. You feel welcome in this glen; the fates did bring you here for a reason after all. Fairy tales spring to mind as you wander the faint worn paths through the glen. Tales of fae creatures, of hags, brownies and spirits. How they all communicate with the human world through fae circles. Perfect circles made of mushrooms or other things. Circles that did not look natural in their construction...more like they were planted purposefully by magical hands.

Will you dare to cross into the circles? Who knows what lies within..."

RPA Fall Event 2023 was a small writing event. Within the event, there were a number of writing events. Some were single piece entries that had a prompt and word limits, others had several chances to participate throughout the month. Each section contains the content for that given event.

Each event entry was written to a different word count or equivalent cap as per the rules of the event. Black Cauldron Circle (Writing Marathon) had different caps for each entry.

Spoiler: Miasmic Green Mushroom Circle (Story Prompts) 

Miasmic Green Mushroom Circle (Story Prompts)
In order to get out of the magic circle you entered, you'll have to make your way through the decrepit mansion you've found yourself trapped within. Do well to meet the tasks of the deceased head on or who knows what the ghosts will do. Prompts will be posted weekly. Stories should be 2 to 6 paragraphs long.

Spoiler: The Library 

Tell me a dark tale, what happened when the lights went out?

Instinct stopped her feet but there was no fear in the action. She dragged Apollo’s leash through her hand, directing the dog back to a tight heel position. He willingly complied and she only half noticed as her graze drifted across what had once been her brightly lit street. Voices of those who had been outside enjoying the warmer evening drifted on the faint breeze. Candles and flashlights started brightening windows and porches but due to the street being tucked away from any major thoroughfare, those would be the only bits of light the street would see for a while. She wasn’t surprised when a house a street over was suddenly illuminated; the owner’s vehicle had been decked out with a whole array of lights in addition to the standard pair of headlights. Her hand covered the glowing home easily as she tipped her head back, seeking out the night sky above.

The moon was barely a sliver in the eastern horizon allowing the stars to shine bright and the sky was filled with them. The Milky Way was a massive streak of color across the sky far clearer than she had ever seen it in person, let alone in the heart of civilization. It was absolutely breathtaking and she stood there staring at it until her neck couldn’t handle the position anymore.

Apollo - eternally patient and the bestest of boys - had laid down on her feet content with her not moving as he had been with their walk not a moment ago. A smile spread across her face as she tugged a foot out from under him and rubbed his fluffy head when it came up at her movement. He got up without a command on her part and she started them back on the path home.

The lights being out certainly made things challenging when there was no moon to offer more substantial light than the stars alone. She would have missed her home completely had her neighbors not already been on their porch with their candles still lit. Quite a few more had been added to the railings in the time she had been star gazing and quite a few other bodies had joined the few that had already been there. The larger cluster called after her to check on her and she assured them that she would be fine and had quite enough light sources to navigate the darkness long enough to get to bed.

A seemingly absolute darkness closed in around her as the front door closed behind her yet years of repetition made it easy for her fingers to find the deadbolt and lock the door in a single motion. Apollo shook himself out when she freed him from his harness and the metal rings of his collar softly clinked together as he padded towards the kitchen for some water. Hanging up the harness was a bit harder but she did manage to at least find the hook without too much struggle and her shoes were kicked off haphazardly next to the door before she followed after Apollo, her right hand absentmindedly following the wall. In theory the flashlight on top of the fridge should still have some battery life left.

Adrenaline pinpricked its way down her spine as the wall ended at the kitchen. Her finger tips landed on a cool stone counter as she stilled, straining to hear or see whatever had sent goosebumps up her arms. There had been something there, something had caught her attention and not in the good way. At least, she thought there had been. Maybe she had been mistaken? But, then, why couldn’t she hear Apollo drinking or moving about on the hardwood and linoleum? Whatever it was moved faster than she could because she got the glimpse of a shape out of the corner of her eye before she knew no more, one of many victims to fall before the lights came back on.

Spoiler: The Dining Room 

Before you is a silver cloche. You hesitate to place your hand upon it, and after a moment you remove the dome - what is on the plate beneath? It could be a food item, an object, a means of escape, or retaliation. What do you do?

Despite the obvious attempts to free the silver from the tarnish, it clung to the crevices of the ornate handle and along the edges of the embossed design that covered the dome. The design on both dome and handle was flora in nature but the true intent of the design was hard to discern. The tarnished silver was cold to the touch, as if the winter chill had slipped through the walls and had ingrained itself into the silver, but it did not sink its icy teeth in as snow or biting wind would. The cloche came off the covered dish without a sound in part due to the care to make sure it didn’t connect with whatever lay beneath.

A porcelain plate lay beneath, meticulously placed so that the design along the wide rim was straight compared to the table setting. Painted intricate ivy created a makeshift border, isolating the painting of a fox chasing a rabbit all around the dish into four distinct little scenes. Not a single one showed the rabbit caught so there had to be some sort of good omen there. Much like the cloche, time was evident in the plate as well. Despite how vibrant the paint still was and how well tended the porcelain appeared, crackling was evident all along the rim and into the body of the plate itself. At first it came off as an aesthetic choice as parts of it looked reglazed but the far edge of the plate had a few small places where it was clear it was not.

The items on the plate were peculiar. None of it was food, which was both relieving and disheartening. It was a relief to not be tempted by the food of fae or other planer beings where hidden rules lay but the lack of food and the unknown length until one’s next meal certainly made it a bittersweet relief. Still, the plate held items and it was hard to tell if they were brought by desire or placed there as a test. The largest of the items was a book, though the book itself wasn’t overly big; it counted more as a pocket journal than an actual book in size, at least. Additionally there was an old tarnished gold key, a fountain pen that looked to be made out of a dark green gem and real gold that seemed to be the most well kept item on the plate, and a simple compass on a broken chain.

A thick desire to touch all of the items, to take and to keep, invades the brain and trickles down the spine, making fingers tingle with the desire to move. It takes a moment but not a long one to shove the sensation away. The items belonged to someone else and to take them would be wrong. They had been offered which meant touching to inspect and be curious about was permitted but taking was off the table unless explicitly stated.

Still, it didn’t stop the heart from clenching in anticipation as the compass was picked up first.

When nothing happens, the compass is closely examined and rotated about in careful fingers. The needle is steady as the compass is rotated clockwise but there is no telling if its truly pointing north. The pen is heavier than expected when picked up and the stone the pen is made out of truly looks like a dark green gemstone like emerald or equivalent. Something precious and rich in color, at the bare minimum. The gold made up the pen clip, nib holder, and nib and looked well tended to. It was strange it hadn’t been presented in its box. The key was heavy but beyond the intricate weave of the bow into the shank, it was just another key to a door somewhere. The book held the most interest for there was no telling what was hidden beneath the cover. The leather was old and worn far more than at first glance and the design on the front was faded from either wear or weight. Inside the pages were thick and heavy as if made by hand and each one was heavily covered with handwriting. Diagrams and illustrations accompanied a lot of the writings and there were even tufts of fur, pressed flora, and additional pieces of paper attached to or tucked between pages. This surely would be the greatest boon in telling any tale; it would certainly be a treat to glimpse even a few of its pages before it would be returned to the plate undamaged with the rest of the items.

Spoiler: The Study 

Who was this woman? What happened to her in life? What happened to her portrait in death?
CW: Ending remarks nod towards suicidal thoughts but no conclusion is written.

If ever given the moment to be truly honest, she would have admitted that everything was a twisted sort of luck. From an uneventful childhood to marrying into money - to a husband that wasn’t abusive in any way, no less - life had been generous in its good fortune, but there were caveats. For an uneventful childhood, her parents hadn’t been able to truly love her and nurture her as she had needed. For picking a man for his money alone, she lucked out that he wasn’t abusive but he didn’t love her like she had wanted. For years she played the part of highborn and well educated, purveyor of the finer things in life with a good head about money and goods alike. For years she did as was expected of a lady of her status and found life to be hollow because of it.

For a loveless marriage, she bore no children. He never pushed the matter, already having a sibling’s kid written in as his ‘heir’, but it made the house seem even emptier. Oftentimes the only companionship she found was in the hired staff. They were always pleasant and kind to her, though she suspected a lot of that had to do with them being employed, but she drank up the pseudo-compassion and reveled in it. That is until she met her; one Vanessa Farris.

Vanessa Farris had been hired to work with the horses - the one hobby she actually enjoyed anymore - and they had met on Vanessa’s first day. To her, Vanessa was like any other staff, except Vanessa reminded her of the horses she loved so much. Wild looking yet every move a show of strength and elegance, Vanessa quickly became her fascination. And her husband’s, though she had been too blinded by her own bewitchment to even notice.

Vanessa seemed to genuinely reciprocate her curiosity and infatuation, gladly joining her on rides and luncheons, that she had thought Vanessa loved her back. That had been why she had confessed to Vanessa, laying her heart bare on one such ride after months of sorting out her feelings. Vanessa had reacted with tears of joy and happily kissed her back but after everything that had happened, she couldn’t remember it well enough to pick it apart in search of the lie. She found her husband and Vanessa in the barn talking of marriage and children, of eloping much as she had wanted to suggest to Vanessa as their relationship went on. She found them enjoying each other’s company, passionate in a way he had never been with her, touching in a way Vanessa had never touched her. It destroyed what little had been left of her humanity.

Or maybe that was just an excuse to try and sooth the guilt. Not that she was certain there was any guilt left. She had maintained enough sanity to plot and plan and patiently wait until she was able to make sure the only things that burned were those two and the barn itself. Her horses were safe, sent off to new homes, and it wouldn’t be long until the fire was put out and two bodies were found among the rubble. What she couldn’t seem to understand, though, was why she had a knife in hand. She had obviously shredded her own portrait but she couldn’t quite figure out why or where she had even gotten the knife from or when she had grabbed it. Maybe she should burn the whole place down.

No, that would be a waste. Besides, she was too tired to try and plan that out. Maybe she should go sleep. Would eternal sleep finally bring her what she wanted? Would anyone be waiting for her if she did join them? Did it matter? Life certainly didn’t care about her enough to give her more than the bare minimum.

Spoiler: The Entrance Hall 

You have felt the hatred of the house, but now - tell us what lies beyond that final set of doors? What awaits you on the other side? Freedom or something else? Write in the guest book.

To what extent can an inanimate object truly feel emotions? Does it gain some form of sentience as it is fed the emotions of those closest to it or does it simply reflect what it was exposed to over however long it takes for such incorporeal things to take root? Wandering through this home has certainly not answered my questions, though the emotions that have lingered are no less potent than when they first manifested, I would think. Be them remnants of souls, the house’s own doing, or something more that we have yet to understand, the rooms and halls I have passed through have certainly not been happy ones.

Yet, even without knowing if the house has sentience or not, if it is souls or echoes that remain here, my heart breaks for the suffering that I have seen despite the fear I have felt. To know such pain has been felt so potently to leave a mark, to know that so many souls have passed through here and have suffered such, I wish it was able to fill the home with love and understanding, to help soothe the pain and hurt so that unseen wounds can begin to heal.

But, then again, that may only my bleeding heart seeking to help others in the hopes of healing itself.

I will not lie and say I know what lies beyond those oak doors. It can be the freedom I hope it is as easily as something even worse than my travels through this wounded home I fear it might be as easily as being the same, heavy hearted mundane I’m expecting it to be. Regardless, I will handle what may come in the same manner I have with this very home: with caution, curiosity, and compassion.

For any who may follow in my stead: do not lose heart. Should what lay beyond the doors be only more of the same, know that you have made it this far - be it on your own or with others - and you will be able to take on what comes next. It might be difficult and trying but I have every faith in your capacity to handle it well.

Still, though. Please don’t forget to take a break when safety is afforded you. It is certainly not easy to take care of one’s well-being here and very little should stop you from taking care of yourself. Especially in such situations. Whatever lays beyond those doors will still be there when you are ready and able to face it head on.

Spoiler: Translucent Mushroom Circle (Story Prompts) 

Translucent Mushroom Circle (Story Prompts)

The fae creature’s mirror has gifted you with a writing prompt. Dare you take up her challenge? Please create a short story either beginning with or inspired by the quote prompt. Entries should be between 100 and 1000 words.

Each piece is a different story.

Spoiler: This story begins with a letter. 

This story begins with a letter.

Now, mind you, the letter itself is inconsequential. It is nothing more than the catalyst for everything else that follows; however, had the letter not been written for a purpose that it would inevitably never fill, our story wouldn’t exist. The people that were meant to meet would never meet and the entire plot of our story would cease to exist.

Fortunate for us, the letter is written and handed to the young soul tasked with carrying it to the recipient. Our young soul - a boy of no more than 14 years named Nick - took the letter and did very well in making sure it remained undamaged and unread. Unfortunately, young Nick is not destined to become a hero on this journey, nor is he destined to see his task completed. Barely days into his journey, the caravan he had joined was ambushed and his life was brought to a swift end. The letter, safely tucked into the lining of his bag, went unnoticed in among the rest of the other looted belongings.

The lush fields Nick had known so well gave way to burning sand. The bag the letter resided in had been emptied of anything important but one of the ambushers - a man in his prime of unknown years named Doran - had kept it for it had been a new bag when Nick had started his short journey. Though Doran didn’t put it to use, he tucked it in among his own belongings until he made it home. At this point, the letter was four months into its journey and had nary a chance of ever reaching the hands of the intended recipient.

The recipient of the bag, however, was Doran’s youngest niece, Jenna. Having just entered her seventh year of life, Jenna had been thrilled with the gift, happily giving her uncle a tight hug before rushing off to the bedroom she shared with her five older siblings. With the swiftness of a determined child, she quickly filled the bag with the small collection of treasures she had gathered over the years - a collection she had stashed beneath a loose stone in the floor under the bedding. It was a child’s collection so don’t fret too terribly about what exactly she deemed worthy of hiding; none of it was any more substantial than the letter still hidden in the lining of her new bag.

Besides, that collection would change as our young Jenna aged. It would go from interesting stones and straw dolls to scarce supplies and the occasional pilfered food from merchant carts in the short eight months that followed. During the ninth month, Jenna would lose the bag as she raced through the city attempting to avoid being killed by invaders. Whether Jenna lived or died is for another time. Instead, the bag is once again rifled through and tossed aside where it would remain for two weeks before the soul we have been waiting for finally stumbled across it.

Now, something you must know about the soul that finds the bag this time. They are not quite like most other protagonists in these sort of stories. Usually the protagonist is a youth of 16 or 18 years pulled into the role of hero - be it willing or unknowingly - and, at this point, would be easily 20 or 21 years of age. No, this protagonist is a seasoned soldier by the name of Briar who has made it to 27 years through a lot of training and skill, and a dash of luck. He is not one looking for glory or was forced to take on the role of hero - no, that role was already filled by someone he counted as a dear friend and had promised to protect - yet he is the one who finds the letter in the failing lining of the bag. He had picked it up out of the far chance it would hold the secrets to what had happened to the empty and barren town he now stood in only to catch sight of the letter as he moved to toss it back where he had found it.

The seal had long since melted, staining the letter and envelope with a blotchy patch of color. The paper itself was soft from wear and yet the envelope had done well to protect the letter within. The letter fell apart at the creases despite the care he had taken when unfolding it but the strokes of ink were still legible enough to read. The information it contained was well and outdated but it was the fragment of information they had been missing. With quick words and even quicker orders, Briar and company started for the city young Nick never returned to.

It wasn’t the quickest of journeys, nor the most direct in route. The company Briar led found trouble nearly as frequently as trouble found it. Thankfully the majority of the encounters would do little harm to the company but it easily doubled the length of the journey. By the time the company set foot over the threshold where the letter had been written, the letter’s journey came to an end, returning two years after it had been sent away. The sender, a young woman now of 24 years named Cynthia, was surprised both at its return and the bearer of it, for Briar bore the crest of the King the letter had been intended for.

A King who died at the hand of his own brother. A brother who would blame Cynthia’s kingdom for the ‘assassination’ and started the war that would raid Jenna’s home and force Briar to take up arms alongside the King’s son doing everything he could to keep the Prince out of harms way until he found the letter warning the King he grieved for about the threat that was his very own brother.

A letter that would have arrived barely two hours too late had young Nick not been killed.

Spoiler: Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear. 

“Everything you’ve ever wanted is on the other side of fear,” Tyler repeated, exaggerating the spooky tone the carnival fortune teller had used when saying the line and even went as far as to add a nasally, warbling sound to it as he danced his fingers in Mark’s face.

Mark, for his part, shoved the other away, rolling his eyes. “Knock it off, Tyler. She’s just doing her job.”

“Yeah,” Sam commented to the other two in the group, “being a scam.”

Josh and Peter snickered. Tyler didn’t seem to notice or was already too far into his thought to be able to derail. “Yeah, by trying to be overly spooky. The space was already spooky enough. She didn’t have to fake the rest of it so hard.”

The trio behind him took precedence first as their comments got progressively less innocently ignorant compared to Tyler’s. Mark rounded on the three and crossed his arms, using his bulk to his advantage to be intimidating; it was only mildly effective since they were nearly as large as he was. “If you don’t stop with those comments, I will tell Coach.”

Sam rolled his eyes as Peter glared at him. Josh was the one to counter with a smile still on his face, “Come on, man. We’re only joshing around. You know we don’t mean anything by it.”

Mark narrowed his eyes. “Racism isn’t ‘joshing around’ and you three know that.”

“Come on, Mark,” Sam tried, his grin a bit too sharp. “It’s just some good fun. No need to ruin the fun for all of us over a few words.”

“A few words,” he parroted, the words dead on his tongue. “A few words that will inevitably lead to actions on the field, not to mention off.” He dropped his arms, relaxing his form. “I don’t care if you’re just having some fun. That kind of fun is dangerous and you know it. And if certain ears heard it, could cause a bit of hassle on the field and I would rather not have to see about you getting kicked off the team because of it.”

The three before him exploded at that. Shouting seemed to come from all sides as the trio raged against him but he didn’t budge. Tyler, ever the mediator, tried to get in, tried to separate everyone and calm things down, but Josh shoved at him and spat a slur and Mark punched Josh in the face. He would have loved to have said that it was out of a blind rage, that he had lost coherent thought after that point, but he was very aware of making the decision to pull back his fist and connect it with Josh’s jaw. It would be the only punch he threw as Sam and Peter lunged at him in rage. Both caught him around the middle and pinned his back to the ground before they started wailing on him. Josh eventually joined in but the added fists were barely noticed. Mark protected his face and braced against the ones aimed at his gut but let the rest fall where they may.

It could have been seconds as easily as it could have been minuted before the rest of the team was swarming over them, pulling the trio off two to a person. Sam was the most vocal about being restrained but no one paid him any heed. Tyler slipped into the chaos to be the first to haul Mark to his feet but didn’t get a chance to say anything as Coach Briers got to the center of the chaos and folded his arms.

Silence fell immediately. Where Mark had failed, Coach Briers had perfected and the entire team settled under his command. Only Sam, John, and Peter cowered under it.

“Make your way to the bus,” Coach Briers said, his voice an ever steady calm. “We’ll discuss this there.”

The team piled into the bus and sat down in their designated seats. Coach Briers climbed in, closed the door, and turned the air on before he addressed the team. His eyes locked first with Mark and then with Peter, Sam, and John. “There better be a reason why a tussle looked like a full on brawl.” There was a cacophony of shouts that lasted all of two seconds before the trio cowered under a seething glare. He let out a heavy sigh. “You three are really starting to disappoint me. I thought I had taught you boys better than this.”

“Sorry, Coach,” was meekly chorused back.

Coach Briers looked to Mark. “What was the fight about?”

Mark shrugged. “I punched Josh in the face for calling Tyler a slur.”

The team members seated around Josh immediately rounded on him and started berating Josh, equal parts flabbergasted and offended.

“My turn to speak,” Coach Briers announced into the bus and silence fell immediately. Coach Briers focused back on Mark. “Was there more?”

Mark felt Peter glaring at the back of his head but he ignored it. “We had seen the fortune teller and they were making racial jokes.” He shrugged again. “I told them to stop or I’d tell you, and insinuating they would be kicked off the team because of harassment irked them so they started yelling at me. When Tyler tried to intervene as he’s prone to do, Josh shoved him and spat the slur. I responded in kind.”

Coach Briers nodded and focused on Tyler. “Anything you want to add or counter?”

“No, Coach,” Tyler said.

“Peter, Sam, Josh, you’re suspended for two weeks.”

The only ones to react were the three suspended. The rest of the team knew it was a fair punishment, though those who were friends with the three thought it was a touch too lenient. Though the trio certainly weren’t the only ones to make racist remarks, most everyone else was and had been willing to learn and change, to move beyond that dangerous fear and experience the expansive world beyond.

Spoiler: It’s official. I'm literally the worst. 

It’s official. I'm literally the worst.

And I hate it. Justified or not, there should never be a reason to destroy a village even if we are in full out war. Yet here I am standing close enough to roast food on the coals left behind of a village I had personally set the torch to. The ground was still hot enough to burn bare skin, patches of coals were still white hot, and the slightest breeze was bolstering what few flames still remained on the minuscule amount of fuel left. The air was acrid despite nothing really burning anymore and every breath burned my lungs and throat.

I breathed freely anyway well aware the physician was going to have my hide once I stepped out of the danger zone. Thankfully, I was the only fool to do so. My people moved about the destroyed village looking for bodies with masks properly attached to their faces. The few water attuned magic users were scattered among them, maintaining enough moisture on the surveyors to keep them from overheating. I could quell the heat myself but that felt wrong for some reason. Maybe I should quell the heat. Would make everyone’s lives better.

“My Liege,” came from behind me, muffled by a mask but unmistakable. I turned, finding my second in command standing tall and proud despite the injury I knew he had hidden under his uniform. Without my consent, the image of a blade passing between his ribs and the tear into his side he had sustained in a different instance came back to the forefront of my mind.

The desire to pick at him about resting nearly shoved the words past my tongue. It would be a futile to attempt again. We’d argued it enough.

He held my gaze as he continued. “It may be best if you let our people work without your stare. You’re unnerving them, especially when you refuse to wear a mask.”

An amused half smile pulled at my lips and I tipped my head in the same direction as the smile. “And my wearing a mask would be better?”

The full face mask hid a lot of his expression but I could make out his eyes enough to see the amusement in them even if I couldn’t see the twitch in his lips. “It would certainly sooth some of everyone’s nerves.”

I let my gaze drift back over the village, what amusement had drifted in gone by the time I looked away from him. “I’ll be fine. How’s the survey going?”

If he sighed, I didn’t hear it. “Well. We’ve located half of the expected bodies.” The pause that followed was telling but I didn’t look back. “So far there haven’t been signs of suffering.”

I closed my eyes against that. His tone was caring, soothing as if that fact alone would absolve me of the atrocities I had just committed. And he wanted to, too. I could hear it. I knew it. He was just that kind of man.

But wasn’t it simply blind faith? Wouldn’t it be worse if he truly believed this was all justified? That any death was justified.

I dropped my head into an awaiting palm, gritting my teeth against the memories on repeat in my head, the thoughts I couldn’t shake even after I had done the deed.

Nausea welled up hot and fast in my gut, in my throat, and my cheeks prickled from the intensity of it.

His arm was around the back of my ribs before I could even register he had moved. If he had been talking, I couldn’t process it through the roaring in my ears. He took my weight as if it was nothing, supporting a man of equal stature as if he himself had simply leaned against a wall. I pressed my forehead into his neck finding the contact wet and sticky with sweat. If it was my sweat or his, I couldn’t tell.

“If you don’t walk out of here right now, I’m carrying you out,” he growled in my ear.

For a moment, I was bewildered at the clarity of his words, only for that confusion to vanish as he moved my hand and shoved his mask onto my face. I recoiled from it, claustrophobia seizing me in the same moment the mask settled into place. I shoved at him with one hand and tried to yank the mask off with the other but my panic made me sloppy and he overpowered me easily. I could feel his arm against the back of my legs before the world moved on its own but it didn’t help anything. I was forced to just deal with the mask as I shoved my face into his neck again, throwing all of my attention into willing the nausea away.

He was gentle when he set me down on a cot and even gentler when he removed the mask. I sucked in air like I had been drowning, unashamed of the weakness I knew I had to be showing as I choked on a sob.

I hated it. Hated all of it. We shouldn’t have to be digging through the ashes looking for bodies. That village should have never been torched - a village that had been under my protection - and yet I had stood on the very ruins I had created. I had known those faces, had known quite a few names and the basic going-ons within. I had vowed to protect it when I had become ruler and now I am the reason it no longer exists.

His hands were on my face as his voice finally registered in my ears. My vision struggled to clear through the tears but I could make out the countless bodies around me. Quite a number were employed by me - soldiers and medics alike - but easily half were the remaining villagers.

They should despise me yet there is concern and compassion on their faces.

I’m truly the worst.

Spoiler: Now all you have to do is tell them. 

“Now all you have to do is tell them.”

She huffed a laugh, an amused half smile pulling at her lips. “Oh. Is that all?” she asked, the words amused and a touch sarcastic. “Easier said than done, Plythe.”

Plythe shrugged, clearly unbothered. “If you don’t, them finding out however they do is only going to make this worse.”

She rolled her eyes and returned the cigarette to her lips. “As if telling them is going to be any better.”

“Vera-”

She waved them off, stopping whatever else Plythe might have tried to convince her. “Save your breath. It’s not going to change my mind on this and you know it.”

She couldn’t see them out of the corner of her eye since she was at the rail and they weren’t - the fact that Plythe was even on the balcony spoke of how strongly they felt about this; they were terrified of heights - but she could clearly picture Plythe’s mustache and pointed beard twitching in a way that reminded her of how a cat’s tail would flick in agitation. It was quite adorable and she smirked into her hand, tempted to glance back just to see it. Plythe would use that against her, though, so she settled for catching the next time it happened instead.

Plythe let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. It is your choice, after all.”

She let out a lung full of smoke as the door opened and closed behind Plythe. Even if she refused to admit it out loud to Plythe or herself, Plythe was right. She could not risk someone else telling the others her little secret. She needed to be able to control the information they did learn about it. Even Plythe only knew a fraction of any of it. If they knew all of it, she was fairly certain they wouldn’t have been so adamant about her sharing with the others. She pulled another lungful of smoke in. Hell, Plythe would have probably killed her already had they found out the full story. She certainly wasn’t going to put it past them; she had seen them gut enough people to know Plythe wouldn’t hesitate, at least.

She let out the breath, watching the smoke curl skyward in the still air. Despite being so high, the balcony she was on was well protected in the cliff side the castle had been built into. Mountainside? It was certainly sheer enough to be counted a cliff on that side, at least.

The door opened again but the footfall was of heavy boots she knew the sound of even better than Plythe’s soft soled shoes. She didn’t bother glancing back at him and went about sucking in another lung full of smoke.

“Plythe sent me out here to talk to you,” he said in lieu of a greeting, leaning on the railing beside her.

She hummed an acknowledgment as she let the smoke go slowly. She brought the cigarette to her lips again. He was watching her. She could make out his face enough at the edge of her vision to be very aware of that fact. She continued to pretend it didn’t bother her.

Seconds slowly stretched into minutes but she wasn’t about to break the silence. Just because Plythe had sent him out didn’t mean she was just going to spill everything to him. He seemed unbothered by the silence as his gaze fell away after the first thirty seconds and didn’t break it until at least five minutes had passed. Or maybe it was three. She dug the butt of her cigarette into the glass dish she was using as an ash tray.

Normally she would have lit a second one but his presence was still oddly calming despite Plythe’s interference.

A few more minutes went by without much change. She was about to settle in for the long haul when his demeanor started to change. It wasn’t an abrupt change. It was almost like something had drawn his attention, a curious thought that drifted into a curious frown as he tried to piece together what it was he was looking at. She glanced at him to confirm that was what she was getting from him before she started looking in the same direction, curious herself to see what had drawn his attention.

Ice and adrenaline filled her veins and she couldn’t help the sharp intake of air at the sight of them. She took a step back from the railing but it wasn’t to run. He bristled as she used that new stance as a springboard to throw herself into his side. His arm wrapped around her, pinning her in place, as he threw his other out and shouted a shield spell.

The fireball slammed against the shield as they hit the floor.

“Damn it,” she spat as she extracted herself from him and scrambled for the door.

He was hot on her heels as the shield spell took another two consecutive blasts. His chest bumped against her back as she was slowed by the door but his feet never tangled with hers and they made it through at a sprint. He grabbed her wrist and yanked her towards what she assumed was the rest of the company. Sure enough, with the halls filled with the noise of the warning horns, he led her right to the room where everyone was at, including their gracious hosts.

“We’ve got company!” he bellowed into the expansive room.

“How many?” their main host asked.

“We saw three,” she said, barely stopping before the edge of the map table could bruise her thighs. “Here, from this direction,” she said as she stabbed the map with her finger.

“How did they find us?” one of their company asked.

She didn’t dare look at Plythe as she met their main host’s gaze. Her chest burned but it wasn’t from running. “They’re here because of me.” She hated that any of them had to know this. “I’m the last Myronthean.”

Spoiler: False Morel Mushroom Circle (Five Words, One Story) 

False Morel Mushroom Circle (Five Words, One Story)

Five things that were seemingly unrelated were given as a prompt every week. The task was to take these five things and combine them into a short story each week. Entries may be anywhere from 500 to 1,500 words.

This is one continuous story. Each week's words are in bold.

Spoiler: Week 1 - The Summoning | Words: basket, rain, journal, wander, bones 

“I cannot guarantee it will work, my King,” he reiterated for what felt like the millionth time.

The King only waved him off. “Yes, yes; you’ve said as much. That’s why there is new blood in your circle.”

He hated that phrasing even as his gaze fell onto said ‘new blood’. There would be six of them casting but three were not folk he had ever met. Two of them looked like children - barely into adulthood if at all - while the third looked competent and well into his fourth decade of life. The frown buried under mustache and beard deepened. The two children would be easy enough to counter but the older was going to be a challenge. He was going to have to tread carefully if he didn’t want to get caught.

“Their presence and assist is no guarantee, either, my King,” he repeated nearly as frequently as his first remark, “as I have informed you the last number of times you have brought in someone new.”

The King laughed and capped him hard on the back. He staggered under the abuse but let it slide. “Come now, Old Willow. Don’t count them out until you see for yourself how powerful they are!” The King grinned with far too many teeth at the older of the new folk and the fellow gained an amused look before bowing his head with a bit more flourish than was necessary. It made him even more wary of the fellow. The King turned his gaze back onto him. “I went to great lengths to find the most powerful and the most skilled. This time-” that dangerous look was back, the one he had seen far too frequently since the King had suggested this plan- “this time it will work, and we’ll finally have ourselves a Hero that can take down the Demon King.”

No, they wouldn’t. He refused to allow it.

With a deep bow, he offered, “May it be as you say, my King.” Without another word, he crossed to the remaining two.

Prince Cassian looked up from the aged journal before passing it to Apprentice Eirena, a concerned frown pulling at the Prince’s expression. “Again, then?”

He nodded. “Your father is determined for this to work.” He stepped within Prince Cassian’s space to gently take the book from Apprentice Eirena hands, keeping the Prince’s body between him and the rest of the room. He whispered, “Be wary. I do not trust the oldest of those that have been brought to join us. I have no doubt in that one’s skill to be able to see what we are doing and correct our mistakes.”

Apprentice Eirena’s expression lost what little emotion had been there. In contrast Prince Cassian let out a sharp breath, anger evident in the Prince’s expression for only a moment. “We will be relying on you to divert as much as you can. Should it come down to it, we will follow your lead.”

He nodded, straightening his immaculate beard out of habit. The book sat heavy against his chest in an inner most pocket but it was a comfort more than a hindrance. “Best not delay this more, then; to the magic circle with you.”

In his opinion, the circle was excessive but it made sabotaging the first attempts easier. The King had gotten too frustrated with the delays, though, and had the circle embedded into the stone floor itself. The powder of animal bones he had assured the King was significant in creating the circle colored the groves white. The fact that the craftsmen hadn’t made a single mistake in the circle had been the most disheartening fact. Even missing a seemingly insignificant line would have been enough; unfortunately, it was perfect, and the King knew it.

He came to a stop at his designated point on the circle. Prince Cassian was to his right, Apprentice Eirena to his left, and the fellow he did not trust directly across from him. The other two stood opposite the Prince and Apprentice. The three newcomers would know the spell, he had no doubt. The King was always far too thorough at making sure those he chose would do the job well. So, without another moment of hesitation, he put his hands out over the circle and closed his eyes.

Magic seemed to wander around them, drifting as if it were waiting.

The fellow across from him acted first, snapping the magic in the room taut before forcing it into place.

The backlash from the assault on the circle nearly brought him to his knees. He felt an echo of pain in his knees from the other four and a wave of dizziness from Apprentice Eirena and the two younger newcomers. The one across from Prince Cassian nearly passed out, only kept conscious due to the Prince managing to weather the backlash far better in turn. He poured his magic into the circle and quickly started to weave it around the magic the fellow had forced into place. The magic fought his coaxing but slowly it started to settle, first from his point on the circle then from Prince Cassian’s. Between the two of them, they got two thirds of it calmed before Apprentice Eirena was able to help. The fellow seemed not to care about what they were doing and continually poured more power into the circle.

There was no way he was going to be able to stop this one.

The realization filled his chest with sorrow and regret but that didn’t mean he was all out of options. Guiding the Prince’s and Apprentice’s magics into a weave with his own over the magic to keep it stable under the fellow’s unrelenting strength, he quickly wove a second spell directly under the first. It was an incredibly simple spell but the complexity came with weaving it into the first unnoticed. As the initial spell started to activate, he slipped the second spell in under the weave his, the Prince’s and Apprentice’s magics in the hopes it would be enough to hide the spell from sight.

The spell activated with a burst of light bright through his eyelids.

Blinking into the dim room, he distinctly heard the King cross into the circle. “Did it work?”

“The spell activated, my King,” the fellow offered, the words pseudo-pleasant and causing his proverbial hackles to stand on end.

The King came to a stop in the middle of the circle as the details of the room slowly returned. “Then where is my Hero?”

The center of the circle was void of a person but the tang of spent magic spoke of the spell’s success. The fellow’s gaze fell on him for a moment and for that moment, he feared he had been found out. “Perchance it was a fault in the spell’s origins, my King.”

He shook his head, stepping forward. “The spell itself is well and solid, achievable with the right amount of balance across the circle.” The very lie he had been using to keep the spell from working. The very lie that had landed them with the unnamed fellow who was too powerful for his own good. “It is possible that our work to maintain the integrity of that balance as you inundated the spell with power may not have been enough to harmonize the magics and keep the spell stable enough to maintain accuracy.” He turned his gaze to the King. “The Hero may simply be someplace out, brought to this world but not as precisely as we intended.”

“Can you find him?”

He went to calm the King’s enthusiasm but the fellow spoke first. “Should be easy enough. The residual magics alone would be a bright enough beacon to find, my King.”

“Excellent! Farris! I put you in charge of the search. Old Willow-”

“Should your appointed require any assistance, I am findable,” he quickly put in, making sure the words came off short but sounding tired. “Let us not denote your appointed’s ability so quickly as to force unneeded help unto him. Until then, I have research to continue and lessons to attend to.” He bowed deeply and held it. “Unless you have another task for me.”

The King laughed and smacked him on the back. “Right you are, old friend! Quite right you are. Off with you and yours, then.”

“May I join him, Father?” Prince Cassian asked, stepping forward. “They are my lessons he is attending to.”

“Of course, of course,” the King said dismissively and the three of them slipped out of the room.

“Basket cases,” Apprentice Eirena muttered as she closed the door to his tower. “The whole lot of them.”

Prince Cassian sighed. “I’m unfortunately inclined to agree with you on that.” The Prince focused on him but he ignored it in favor of opening the window. The air smelled thickly of rain. “What now, Wilhelm?”

He closed his eyes as a breeze curled against his face. “We save the Hero.”

Spoiler: Week 2 - The Plan | Words: desk, coffee, eyelashes, rust, ponder 

He opened his eyes and turned back to the two behind him. “I am not sure how much time we have so it would be best to depart as soon as we are able. Eirena?”

She turned her thoughtful gaze onto him. “I can have horses and supplies ready in an hour at most.”

He nodded. “Try to get it done in half that time if you can, my dear.” She nodded in turn as he focused back on the Prince and she disappeared out the door. “Go pack your belongings. If anyone asks where you are going, say you don’t know and that I’m sporadically springing a travel trip on you, though it may have something to do with a letter I had received upon our arrival back at my tower.”

Prince Cassian nodded. “I can do that.” A pause before, “Do you think we can beat Farris to the Hero?”

“If we are swift enough. Now go. No need to be wasting daylight on questions that can happen in route.”

As the door closed behind Prince Cassian, he crossed to the desk Apprentice Eirena had been staring at in thought. Amusement tugged at his face and he picked up the little sack as he made his way to pack his own belongings.

The rain had started in earnest by the time they made it to the edge of the castle’s lands. With the horse gear and their travel cloaks already having water repellent charms woven into them by his own hand, the rain didn’t slow them down and he kept the horses ambling as quickly as they were willing to go.

The rain eased up as night started to truly fall. On his estimate, they were making good time. Where Farris would have to pinpoint the Hero’s location, he knew where the Hero should be. He just hoped his second spell had been enough to make it harder of Farris to find it than the stranger had boasted it would be. He sent about a few conjured wizard lights as he drew them to a stop. He was fortunate that Apprentice Eirena and Prince Cassian were the sort to be unbothered traveling for hours without discussion. He was certain both had plenty of questions but with the rain and the pace, conversation hadn’t been possible.

“We stopping for long?” Prince Cassian asked as everyone dismounted.

“No. Only long enough for us to consume something more than dry tack and to give the horses some sort of break.”

Apprentice Eirena approached with a bag. “Do you still want the tarps up?”

He smiled. “I would certainly love a break from this cloak. If you two want to stay in them, I won’t stop you.

The tarp was as it sounded, a rectangular tarp stretched across six poles to create a dry patch in the rain. Prince Cassian and Apprentice Eirena pitched two: one for the horses and one for the riders, though they only used four poles for the second one and let the excess drape to the ground. Wilhelm set about drying the ground and setting magical fire into place in a circle of rocks just as Apprentice Eirena appeared with cooking implements and materials.

“How far are we traveling tonight?” Prince Cassian asked as he joined them just as Eirena closed the lid on the boiling stew she had put together. It would be a moment longer before the potatoes were cooked through.

“A good few hours more. I want us to get as far as we can before stopping completely.”

Prince Cassian’s face was the epitome of worry. “You sure we’re making good enough time?”

He raised both eyebrows at the Prince. “Not stopping would jeopardize our attempt even more. However, I am confident enough in my spellwork to trust that we have enough of a head start to be at the Hero before the King’s chosen reaches them.”

“How far off did you send the Hero?” Apprentice Eirena asked.

“To Vellbrook.”

Prince Cassian choked on his water. “Vellbrook?” he parroted. “That’s a four month journey on horseback if you’ve got good weather the entire way but winter is just around the corner and I highly doubt we have enough with us to account for that.” Edging panic, the Prince smacked his own chest, proclaiming, “I certainly didn’t pack enough.”

His hands had risen from his lap in his desire to sooth the Prince’s ires and gingerly patted the air in a calming gesture. “Calm yourself some, young Prince. It is alright. I was not intending for us to travel the entire distance by horseback. I would be surprised if Farris did such a thing once he found the location himself.”

Apprentice Eirena - seeming unperturbed by the announcement of the location - lifted the lid of the pot and skewered a potato chunk as she asked, “We’re making it to Felvin then?”

“Felvin?” Prince Cassian, looking from Apprentice Eirena blowing on the potato chunk to him. “I thought their transportation circle had been destroyed.”

“It has been.” He accepted the offered bowl from Apprentice Eirena. “It should mask my teleportation magic quite nicely because of it.”

Prince Cassian accepted his own bowl from Apprentice Eirena. “Apologies, Wilhelm, but I’m still not following.”

“Not by a lack of skill, mind you,” he reassured the Prince. “You’re lessons were never designed for anything so complex.” He took a bite of soup, getting Prince Cassian to start eating as well since the Prince had to wait for him anyway. “When the Felvin transportation circle had been destroyed, it created a sort of mess of magic in the area.” He pointed his spoon at Prince Cassian. “Think of it like a bramble bush, how the limbs are all woven together into a knot of thorns that’s hard to get past but create a pocket within. The magic at Felvin is much the same way, though less stagnant than the bramble bush. The magic there constantly churns because while the function of the circle was broken, because it hadn’t been completely eradicated means it still has a pull on magic. It’s due to that lack of order that has caused the magical bramble bush.”

“But doesn’t that make it more dangerous to do spellwork?”

“If one is ill-experienced, absolutely. However, I have done my fair share of spellwork in such settings that I have no doubt in my capability to cast without causing harm. The only thing is to make it undetectable means taking my time and the sooner we get there, the more time I will have. I doubt the King’s chosen will take the same pains to be discrete. He will most likely simply use the circle in the castle and simply cast.”

Apprentice Eirena lowered her empty bowl. “Will the Hero be as easily located as that person so boasted?”

He chuckled. “I couldn’t help but ponder that myself. If my spell worked as intended, no. The redirection was meant to use excess magic from the summoning to place the Hero near Vellbrook. It may be possible that the King’s chosen will be able to narrow it down to the general direction of Morai than Vellbrook specifically. Not to mention the wilderness between Vellbrook and the other Morai cities in that general area and everything in between.”

“Where exactly did you send them?” Prince Cassian asked.

“Well within Morai’s boundaries but close enough to Vellbrook that the Hero will head there.”

“And you’re certain of that?”

“As certain as I am that I can get us to Vellbrook from Felvin.” A thought tugged at him. “Speaking of Vellbrook.” He dug into his personal bag and pulled out the little sack he had grabbed and passed it to Apprentice Eirena. “Yes, I did make sure to grab this.”

Her eyes immediately lit up at the sight of the little bag and she took it with a quickly uttered ‘thank you’ before she was off scrambling for other supplies. Prince Cassian gave him a quizzical look and he happily answered, “Coffee. Vellbrook is known for its coffee shops, thus how I remembered, but that particular coffee is from Halvarin.”

Prince Cassian nodded. “I saw the rust colored crest when you handed it over.”

Apprentice Eirena sat down heavily with kettle, mortar and pestle, and quite a few other necessities alone with three mugs. Her eyelashes sparkled with droplets of the mist the rain had turned into as they had eaten as she set about making them coffee. Prince Cassian chuckled, low and soft, as he quickly cast a water repellent charm on Apprentice Eirena before turning his attention back to Wilhelm. “Do we have time for coffee?”

He shrugged, dragging the ladle through the soup and filling his bowl again. “Seeing as I am not quite done eating…”

Prince Cassian’s chuckle was louder that time as the Prince leaned over and ladled himself another bowl full. Time or not, he wasn’t about to deprive Apprentice Eirena from a cup of coffee.

Spoiler: Week 3 - The Anomaly | Words: spotted, fern, abundant, defer, pear 

Despite the rain dissipating as they got ready to move out again, the night remained thick with darkness. The conjured wizard lights were the only thing allowing any of them to see. Not that there was much to see as they truly entered the woods that surrounded Felvin.

The distinction between forest and city had vanished in the time since his last visit. He hadn’t even realized they had entered Felvin until he felt the first brush of churning magic. Startled, he looked to Apprentice Eirena and Prince Cassian, finding both of them alert and confused. He met Prince Cassian’s gaze. “What was the last report about Felvin that you saw?”

Prince Cassian blinked at him, his confusion thickening even as Wilhelm caught the faintest flicker of thoughtfulness underneath it. “The one directly following the report about the transportation circle being destroyed. It had been a basic report confirming the town was getting back to normal.” Prince Cassian’s frown deepened. “There was never anything about this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. We were at war during the Felvin reports and because there were orders to not defer any reports regarding key towns and cities, anything more would have reached me even on the front lines since we were the closest force. Had a report come in afterwards about this, I would have been told.”

He sighed heavily as Apprentice Eirena spoke up. “I can go check.”

Prince Cassian raised an eyebrow as Wilhelm shook his head. “Right now our priority is getting to the Hero first. Besides, we will most likely find the answer along the way. Come on.”

The horses seemed unbothered by the ribbons of magic that churned the air the deeper they got into Felvin. He had a few theories as to why but even trying to think them through and create a good argument for his theories wasn’t enough to keep himself calm. Any time he tried to focus solely on ironing out one theory, a ribbon of magic would pass through him, causing a surge of adrenaline through his veins. He sat agitated in the saddle as he tried to guide the horses along the road he half remembered.

He didn’t even realize his conjured wizard lights were gone until his horse shoved through a fern and out onto the stretch of pavement where the transportation circle had been.

The space had been a large, square pavestone plaza with a few mature trees left to grow in round protected beds. Strung lights had created invisible lines between walkways, patio areas for the shop fronts, open spaces, and the transportation circle boundaries. The poles holding those lights were always decorated in banners or garlands and plenty of posters and signs to help guide people to the many shop fronts. The plaza had been the heart of the city in many ways.

None of that remained.

The plaza was absolutely void of plant life despite how abundant it was beyond the pavestone and equally void of anything else. The poles that held the strung lights, the mature trees that had provided some shade, all of it was gone. There wasn’t even a hint of a broken chair or fallen roof tile. Just a distinct line between the plaza pavestone and the reclaimed city.

The ribbons of magic were visible as they churned through the air within the boundaries of the plaza, bands of colorless substance warping the view through like water or thick glass. It was as if the ribbons were glowing yet the strange bluish white light never wavered or changed in intensity as one would expect from a moving light source and it cast the plaza in an eerie glow that seemed to only darken the forest.

“Wilhelm.”

He started at the choked voice calling his name and whipped his head around to look back at Prince Cassian only to find the Prince supporting Apprentice Eirena as best he could from his own horse, the horses as close together as their legs and packs would allow. Even from where he sat he could see Prince Cassian trembling and Apprentice Eirena breathing heavily. He turned his horse around and brought it up alongside Apprentice Eirena’s horse. “Pull her to your saddle and support her,” he directed as he freed her foot from the stirrup. He tugged the reins from her hands and brought them over the horse’s head as a makeshift lead. “Try to withstand it long enough to pass through. The pocket is at the center of the plaza.”

‘Pocket’ was a rather accurate word for it. While the area beyond the plaza seemed to be illuminated by the visible magic, the center seemed to be less illuminated when logic said it should have been the brightest.

“It will also feel void of magic,” he warned, catching Prince Cassian’s gaze once Apprentice Eirena was secured against his chest. “I cannot prepare you for that sensation; only warn you.”

Prince Cassian’s expression tightened but he nodded. “Be as quick as you can casting, Wilhelm. If it’s worse than this…”

With a second horse under his command, he urged both creatures onto the pavestone.

Magic slammed into him, rushing around him like he was passing through a waterfall or a raging river. Except it wasn’t in one direction. The ribbons of magic were constantly moving and shifting about in the unspecified sphere the broken transportation circle had created, meaning that one instance the flow would be shoving down on him like a massive waterfall, the next it would be shoving from below like he was free falling, only to slam into him from the back like a violent gale. Beyond the physical sensations, it felt like every emotion was warring within him for dominance. There was no distinction between ecstasy and grief, blinding rage and paralyzing terror. Every emotion possible swelled within him and overflowed like the magic washing over him.

Crossing into the pocket at the center should have been a relief. Instead, it left him with a sense of loss so profound, he couldn’t breathe.

“Please.”

It was a broken whimper somewhere behind him, a plea for something beyond his knowing, and yet it drew his awareness like sudden pain would. Prince Cassian was curled over Apprentice Eirena shaking so hard, he wasn’t sure how they were still in the saddle. Apprentice Eirena had pulled her knees up and curled further into Prince Cassian’s chest but her limbs were limp in the position; he would be surprised if she was still conscious.

“Please,” Prince Cassian repeated, the word even weaker and breaking halfway through in the oppressive silence of the pocket.

A massive gash in the earth crossed through the center of the transportation circle at an angle, breaking the carefully laid ring of specially crafted colored pavestone. Just as the report had entailed, the specific runes for control had been disturbed but those to gather magic had been unaffected. Though he spotted an oddity in the runes, he lacked the capacity to process it.

When he went to cast, dread washed over him. He couldn’t feel his magic let alone any latent magic within the pocket. How could he have no magic? They had just passed through enough magic to erase the entire continent from existence! He should be absolutely saturated with it!

A shudder went down his spine as he felt the familiar tingle of magic on his fingers, though the sensation was distant and dull. It wasn’t that he was without magic; he had simply become numb from the over exposure of magic.

It created a bit of a challenge casting without being able to feel magic. He had to cast slower, to deliberately control the magic he released so as not to create a beacon or leave a trace anyone - talented or otherwise - could find and follow. Seconds stretched into minutes and by the time the spell swelled around them and plucked them from that pocket, his vision had started to gray at the edges.

Appearing in Morai was like stepping into a cold pond. He gasped as sensation came back and the sense of profound loss vanished. He vaguely heard Prince Cassian gasp somewhere behind him but his pounding pulse in his ears made it hard to hear.

He slid from his saddle onto shaking legs and fathomed at the idea that they were keeping him upright. The shaking weakness ebbed quickly as he walked the horses out of the way enough to step up to Prince Cassian’s side. The Prince carefully passed Apprentice Eirena to him before getting down himself.

“There should be a pear or something of the sort in one of our bags,” he told Prince Cassian as he lowered Apprentice Eirena to the ground. “Grab it and a knife. We need to get something in our stomachs as quickly as possible.”

“Fruit specifically?” Prince Cassian verified, his voice as shaky as Wilhelm felt.

“Not unless you come across one of our waters and something else edible first.”

Spoiler: Week 4 - The Aftermath | Words: ghost, chief, flame, nickel, worthy 

He brushed Apprentice Eirena’s hair from her face, sweat making the strands cling to her despite his intentions. Despite his concern, her breathing was even and her heartbeat steady.

“Here,” accompanied a slice of pear appearing over his shoulder and he took it ignoring how his hand shook. Her jaw moved with little force and he shoved half the slice in her mouth before breaking off the remaining. He shoved the other half in his own mouth. Sweet juice cascaded across his tongue and disappeared as he practically inhaled the piece, chewing only enough to not choke on it. He patted her cheek. “Wake up, Eirena. Come on.”

Unfocused eyes fluttered as she drew in a slow, deep breath. He shifted his hold, propping her head up just a bit more to make sure she couldn’t choke on the pear. He had hoped her waking would help her look less like a ghost to no avail.

“There we go. Eat up. That’s it.”

He counted five slices by the time coherence returned to her gaze and she sat up on her own. He looked to Prince Cassian and was pleased to see the Prince had an apple mostly devoured in the hand holding a knife, the last slice of the pear in the other. He took and consumed the pear slice.

The flame of Prince Cassian’s torch sputtered as the Prince used it to light a proper fire despite the approaching dawn as Wilhelm gave Apprentice Eirena a second apple. “What was that, Wilhelm?” Prince Cassian asked. “What did we go through?”

He sighed heavily. “Something that should not have persisted without either of our knowledge.” He rubbed at his face before tugging at his beard as if to straighten it. “But what I don’t understand is how it got that bad.”

“What do you mean?”

“I double checked the runes for my own peace of mind and while I verified the control runes had indeed been destroyed and the gather runes were untouched, I also saw the limiters they had implemented.”

“Limiters? Wouldn’t the broken circle make those ineffective?”

“Had the limiters been reliant on the circle, yes, but the limiters had been placed on the gather runes specifically.”

Prince Cassian scowled at the fire as he tossed in another stick. “That’s a lot of magic to be gathered in one place, Wilhelm.” He returned his gaze to Wilhelm, somber and worried. “Surely it’s only happenstance.”

He shook his head, morose. “I wish it were. Unfortunately, a forest doesn’t reclaim an entire city in such a short amount of time without anyone knowing.”

“You don’t think-” Prince Cassian started but cut himself off.

“I would not be surprised if someone had created that deliberately, but as for the chief reason, that is left to be determined. Thankfully God Tier spells requires ten times that magic.” The thought occurred to him at same time it must have to Prince Cassian because the Prince’s gaze snapped to his. “Unless the other broken transportation circles are in a similar state.”

“Shit,” Prince Cassian hissed.

He couldn’t help but agree. This wasn’t good. If someone was planning for God Tier magic-

Prince Cassian tensed in a way they both knew all too well. Wilhelm turned to look towards the source of Prince Cassian’s sudden alertness as he reached for Apprentice Eirena, tugging her close as Prince Cassian moved to stand between Wihelm and whatever was approaching with a heavy hand on his sheathed sword. Wilhelm softly cursed when he pooled his magic only to find it still far too spent for him to be of use in combat. The way Apprentice Eirena was sagged against him meant that Prince Cassian was their only line of defense. Morai wasn’t known to be hostile to travelers but it also wasn’t known as the safest country on the continent. He had made sure to send them to the same spot the Hero had been redirected to - a spot that was supposed to be sheltered enough from Vellbrook to not be seen by the city but close enough that the Hero should have spotted the city had they had found a point to see the surrounding lands well enough.

A single person, ragged and wary, stepped out properly from behind a tree, though their hand remained resting against the trunk. He didn’t recognize their rumpled clothing. If he was to guess, their Hero had just found them.

“Hey,” came timidly from the Hero’s lips but the next words were more sure, “hi. Sorry. I’m a bit lost. Can you tell me where I am? If you understand me.”

The last statement didn’t seem to be something that the Hero had intended for them but Prince Cassian still responded to it. “We can understand you.” Relief and surprise both washed over the Hero’s face. “And you’re currently in the Country of Morai about three days from the capital city Vellbrook.”

The Hero frowned, confusion quickly taking place of the relief and surprise. “What continent is Morai on? That a new country in Africa or something?”

Prince Cassian glanced down at Wilhelm but answered, “Kom, the smallest of the three.”

“Three? So, wait, you’re saying I’m not, what, still on Earth?”

“You are not on your home world, no,” Wilhelm confirmed.

He expected some form of emotional reaction but the Hero’s was certainly far less than he had expected. Tears sprang to the Hero’s eyes as they looked away but the Hero’s chest expanded in a drawn breath and he watched as they held it before slowly releasing it, as if suppressing the emotions to deal with them later.

His heart went out to the Hero. Hopefully they would be able to give the Hero the moment to truly feel everything.

“Ok. So I’m not home anymore.” The Hero’s voice was steady. Stern, even, in the way they started seeking information. “How did I get here? Do you know?”

Prince Cassian answered. “We brought you here.”

“Brought me here? Why? How?”

“At the desires of my father. Upon his order, we summoned you here through a ritual that was intended to seek a worthy soul to come and be our Hero.”

“A ritual? What, like, with magic?”

Wilhelm spoke up. “Magic commanded by my own craft. I was the one that made sure you weren’t summoned to the castle and were instead dropped somewhere beyond our country’s boundaries.” He gave their rumpled appearance a disheartened look. “Hopefully not too unkindly.”

The Hero shook their head, dismissing his worry. “Oh, no. I look a mess because I’ve tripped a few times too many trying to figure out where I was and how I was gonna survive out here on my own, what with it being the dead of night and all.”

“I must warn you now.” That got the Hero’s full attention. “I will do everything in my power to send you back home but I do not currently have that knowledge nor the magic to do so. It may take years before you are able to return home, though my intent is to diminish the gap of your absence upon your return.”

The Hero fisted their shirt at the center of their chest, the nickel appearing bracelet on their wrist glinting with firelight. For a moment, he expected either a heartfelt thanks or a vehement denial but as the moment stretched, he realized that neither were coming his way. Instead the Hero responded with a soft, “Are you going to make me be your ‘hero’ in exchange for that?”

He frowned at the Hero. “No, of course not. The King only wanted to summon a Hero to put the burden of war on their shoulders and make them the scapegoat for when the war ended regardless if we won or not. Dragging you from your world to ours is a cruel thing to do and to ask the sufferer of such torture to become the Hero of our kingdom is unacceptable. We will do everything within our power to keep you out of that role and get you back home safe and sound.”

The hand against their chest tightened, making the bracelet flash again. “And if I don’t trust you?”

He huffed a chuckle, offering, “We are the very strangers that have pulled you from your world. You have no proof that you can trust us beyond our words and I hope you hold on to that skepticism for the time being.” The Hero nodded, albeit slowly. He offered them a kind smile. “Now, I think it would be best if we did introductions before we went about making food for everyone. I am Wilhelm the Old Willow Wizard and this is my student Prince Cassian Rukal, and my apprentice Eirena.” Prince Cassian bowed his head as Apprentice Eirena managed a half hearted wave from where she leaned against him.

No immediate response came, though it was obvious the Hero was chewing over how to answer. “My name is-”

Spoiler: Week 5 - The Epilogue | Words: perception, chart, lazy, sustain, mirror 

He woke slowly, groggily, knowing he had to wake quickly and wouldn’t be able.

“It’s ok, Wilhelm. Take your time.”

His eyes flickered open to see the hazy shape of Cecilia leaning over him, her short braid hanging over her far shoulder. Her abilities with healing magic had grown exponentially since her involuntary arrival to their world seven months ago. Had she been inclined to pick up any combative spells, it certainly would have been difficult to keep the Hero title off of her. She smiled brightly at him when she noticed his gaze. “Don’t worry. The fight’s pretty much over now so you can just take your time waking up and getting back onto your feet.”

He offered her a smile in turn, though it felt a little lacking on his face. “Thank you Cecilia. I’m sure under your magnificent and generous care I’ll be up on my feet in no time.”

She stuck the tip of her tongue out at him and he chuckled. Had her hands not been preoccupied with healing him, she would have smacked his arm like she did any time he teased her as such. He turned his gaze on the world that he could see from where he lay. He could make out Prince Cassian not far off standing on a pile of rubble with his gaze up on the highest levels of the castle. The Prince’s chest and arms were heavily bandaged with one arm in a sling and a cape clasped around his throat to shield him against the cool breeze slipping about the castle grounds. There were a scattering of personnel about - medical and soldier alike, if he were to guess - but they were giving the Prince space. The fact that Prince Cassian was even standing was testament to Cecilia’s abilities.

The light of the healing magic faded as Cecilia sat back on her ankles and rubbed an arm across her damp forehead. “Alright. Now, be careful moving about. Your body’s going to be stiff and it’ll complain for a few days after healing so rapidly. I would also suggest not using any magic for the next few weeks at least but we both know you don’t ever listen to me.”

He laughed at that. “I can’t go about being lazy now that the real works just begun, now can I?”

She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “And there you go proving my point.”

When she looked towards the castle, he knew it hadn’t been a conscious choice. Since arriving in their world, Cecilia had showcased the sort of perception he had only ever seen the likes of in Prince Cassian and other trained persons, though hers went beyond detecting dangers. She would simply know when one of them approached regardless of intent or would pick up on things so well hidden, they themselves were oftentimes unconscious to. He was tempted to say it was thanks to magic but she had even managed such things in the heart of a magic void. He sat up, watching her.

She got to her feet as footfall came from the open doors directly ahead of Prince Cassian. Everyone’s attention went to the opening but only Cecilia moved closer. Eirena - after everything, it was so hard to think of her as his apprentice anymore - came trudging out of the castle dragging a body behind her. She looked relatively unharmed from where he sat but her expression spoke of an immense exhaustion. Cecilia made it to her as Eirena stumbled but didn’t fall. He was certain Cecilia spoke to her but of what only the two of them and the dead body would know. Prince Cassian started towards the pair which brought others along behind him but it was Cecilia who caught Eirena when she finally collapsed and the familiar glow of healing magic chased away the growing shadows of a waning day.

He groaned as he got himself to his feet. He wasn’t sure if it was ironic or a blessing that the Hero of their kingdom hadn’t come from another world but from the kingdom’s own people. It was Prince Cassian who met his gaze first and he was certain the Prince’s expression was a mirror of his own; exhaustion and some pain was prevalent but there was also relief and grief and the right amount of worry tugging at the Prince’s face.

“We did it,” Prince Cassian offered in a gruff voice that wasn’t much stronger than a whisper. He had long since stopped glancing at the nasty scar across Prince Cassian’s throat that should have made the man mute, if not outright kill him. Healing him had been the first time any of them understood Cecilia’s true potential.

He offered the Prince a soft smile. “That we did. Which means you can return to your bed and stay there until you are cleared by the healers.”

Prince Cassian grinned. “Cecilia said I was fine now.”

He snorted a laugh. “And if Vivian catches wind of you ignoring healers, I will point her in the right direction and you know it.”

Prince Cassian laughed. While using Lady Vivian as a threat wasn’t the kindest thing, she would have - and had, for that matter - encouraged it. He did not envy the Prince in his choice of life partner while at the same time he was certain no one else would be as good of match. Having grown up at as near an equivalent level to Princess Morai’s government had, Lady Vivian would understand Prince Cassian’s world enough to support him in it while at the same time bringing a fresh perspective that Prince Cassian wouldn’t ignore. He expected to see decades of peace and prosperity following their union at the very least.

He entered the medical tent and slipped through without anyone so much as batting an eye in his direction. It wasn’t hard; there were still a lot of critically injured despite Cecilia’s and everyone else’s best efforts. He ducked through one of the makeshift hallways into a private tent where a single body lay on the only bed in the space. There wasn’t even an aid to be seen but that was probably for the best. The energy in the small tent spoke of the Demon King’s personal healer was monitoring the Demon King’s vitals. At least the medical chart handing on the end of the bed had been updated in the last few minutes.

“Come for a visit?” the Demon King - Lucius - teased, opening the eye not bandaged.

He raised an eyebrow even as he approached the edge of the bed. “I can leave if you’d rather.”

Lucius’s hand wrapped around his wrist, careful and cautious in a way that broke a part of Wilhelm’s heart. “I’d rather you stayed,” Lucius said, trying and failing to maintain that teasing tone. He sat on the edge of the bed and ran his free hand through Lucius’s hair. The Demon King pressed into the touch, seeking it as best he could. “I thought…”

Whatever Lucius thought went unspoken but Wilhelm had a pretty good idea because he had thought the same thing when Cecilia’s magic hadn’t worked on Lucius. “Yeah,” he said, resting his forehead against Lucius’s. Lucius’s other hand carded through his hair to settle at the back of his head, trembling in Wilhelm’s hair. “Me too.”

“I’m ok, Wilhelm,” she said as he came to a stop at her side on the castle’s upper wall.

He smiled at that. “Oh, I’m sure you are.” Below them people were already working on removing debris, the medical tent straight ahead of them. From that height, though, he could almost see the boundaries of the capital city. He leaned against the wall, telling the wind as much as her, “Every day you sustain higher and higher levels of healing magic. In a few years, I doubt anyone would be able to match your healing prowess.” He looked to her and was unsurprised to see the morose expression on her face. “The magic from the broken transformation circles hasn’t been dispelled yet, which means there is enough magic to send you home if you wish.”

She touched the center of her chest and he was reminiscent of the first time he had seen her, of how she had grabbed at her chest. The nickel bracelet had long since been lost but she had replaced it with one of braided thread and shaped stones made for her by Eirena. A melancholy smile pulled across her face. “At this point, I don’t think there’s much point in sending me back. I’ve gotten too used to this world and having this body. If I had to go back to being male…” That melancholy turned sour at the thought before turning to something akin to peace. “I want to stay here where I get to be me in a body that fits me perfectly, where I can truly be myself and still be loved.”

He smiled. “Then you stay.”

Spoiler: Black Cauldron Circle (Writing Marathon) 

Black Cauldron Circle (Writing Marathon)

It was said that Morgana had crafted a potion so potent that it could rewrite destinies, unravel time, and invoke the very essence of Halloween itself. This concoction, known as the "All Hallows' Elixir," held the power to reshape reality during the witching hour on the eve of Halloween. Little did those who would dare accept her challenges know that the All Hallows' Elixir held not only the power to change the world but also the power to change them. Morgana's tale had only just begun, and the forest whispered its secrets to those who would listen. New challenges will be revealed every 48 hours at the bottom of this post. Be sure to check back regularly!

Spoiler: The Mysterious Moonstone 

In a minimum of 150 words, describe the witch's encounter with a mysterious moonstone, a rare and enchanted gem said to hold the secrets of the night. This moonstone is the first ingredient for her potion.

The sun was hot on her back so it should have been impossible to discern the gem from the rest of the stones along the riverbed. Had she not turned it over searching for the sprouts of river grass she needed, she would have walked right by it. Instead, the underbelly of the moonstone glittered for less than a second in the corner of her vision but it was long enough to draw her attention. Picking it up revealed nothing magical about it; the gem looked much like a water smoothed stone, the same off white as quite a number of the stones in among the riverbed. Holding it up to block the sun with her thumb and forefinger wrapped around it, she waited.

Seconds turned to minutes turned to a quarter of an hour but no matter how much her shoulder burned, she held it.

Waiting for the tell tale glitter of a moonstone.

At the cusp of her arm giving out on its own, the faintest hint of a glimmer filled her with anticipation. With sheer will she kept her arm aloft another ten until the underside of the moonstone looked reminiscent of quarts as the faintest of glows emanated from it. Blindly she grabbed for one of her empty pouches and quickly wrapped the moonstone in it before she dropped her arm. Confident the bottom side didn’t see the sun, she tucked the pouch away with excitement thrumming through her chest.

A genuine moonstone.

Spells and potions raced through her head; there were so many things she could make. What would be the-

The recipe for a certain elixir drifted into her thoughts, stopping her pondering. No. She knew exactly what she was going to make.

Now all she needed to do was get the other ingredients.

Spoiler: The Mystical Mandrake Root 

Craft a scene in a minimum of 300 words where the witch journeys deep into the haunted woods to find a rare and elusive mandrake root, the second ingredient she needs.

It was a good thing mandrake root didn’t require her being there at night. While she had no doubt that she would be able to make her way through just fine, daylight meant that she was less likely to catch the toe of a boot on anything - she pushed a branch out of the way - or run face first into branches. Honestly, why did it have to be this specific variant of mandrake root? She knew a good plot of land in a quaint little town that had a plethora of the blasted root but no. It had to be of the haunted woods where it was so rare to find, she was going to need the daylight just to help spot the bloody leaves in the rest of the undergrowth.

She huffed out a sigh, annoyed but quick to calm herself down. That was the whole point of this particular elixir: succeed in trials to prove one’s worth. Well, or so said the old texts. If she had it her way, she’d probably make it a bit different than just a few trials. Magic power would probably be better.

She paused as she crested a stout boulder and rubbed the sweat from her forehead as she looked around. Regardless, she had to do it by the book. It wasn’t her recipe and who was she to say it had to change. She could make her own recipe once she had seen what exactly the elixir was capable of.

A young woman waved at her from somewhere off the trail. Nodding in acknowledgment, she quick staked her red string to the center of the trail and placed a ring of salted stones around it. It atonement for keeping mischievous buggers away, she scattered berries and seeds for the curious ones to take instead. Satisfied, she started towards the figure.

Blessedly, the leaves of a mandrake root stood proud at the young woman’s feet. She smiled to the young woman - sickly thin but still such a beautiful soul - and nodded before reaching down and yanking the mandrake free of the soil. The young woman covered her ears but there was no point. As soon as the head was free, she shoved some of the soil back into its mouth. Pinning the soil into place with her hand, she tugged the pot from her belt and filled it with the turned soil before replanting the mandrake. She patted its buried head before pouring some of her drinking water over it to appease the disturbed root.

She rubbed as much of the soil from her hand as she could before she gently removed the old, delicate doll from her largest pouch. With her finest handkerchief and utmost care, she carefully wrapped the doll up and then buried it where the mandrake had been. The young woman smiled brightly at her before disappearing.

A heavy sigh accompanied her getting back to her feet. She truly hoped the young woman had found peace at last.

Spoiler: The Spooky Spider Silk 

Write a spooky scene in a minimum of 500 words where the witch gathers spider silk by the light of the full moon. This silk will lend a ghostly texture to her potion.

Full moon nights were always pleasant; if one didn’t mind company, that is. She personally preferred the moonless ones for that fact alone but she wasn’t about to deny the pleasantness of a full moon one. Still, it was appreciated as she hiked through the overgrowth.

The home was mostly dark, barring the faint light in an upper window she had seen upon approaching. Still, she hoped her intrusion wasn’t met with conflict as she knocked on the door.

Something in the corner of her vision somewhere above her head drew her attention and she looked over, catching sight of not one but several tens of tiny spiders drifting down on silk coming to investigate. Most stayed well above her head but the more curious ones got far closer. The fair few that didn’t spin silk sprang forward from the ground and ceiling, traversing walls and posts to get a better look. One very exuberant jumping spider landed on her walking staff, turned to face her, and then jumped onto her shoulder just as the door opened.

“Ah! None of that, little one!” Despite the rushed words, the hands were slow in cupping around the harmless spider and coaxing it onto a palm. “You know we don’t jump onto guests uninvited.” The gentleman standing before her adjusted his glasses as he finally paid her some mind and offered her a soft smile. “Terribly sorry for their rude behavior. We don’t often get the kinds of guests that knock all that often. Am I right to assume you are here with a request?”

“If it is no hardship,” she confirmed, looking to the nearest spider hanging from spider silk. “I have a potion that requires spider silk gathered by the light of the full moon and I was told you have quite the extensive knowledge as to which silk would be best.”

“Ah! Yes!” The gentleman turned and urged the jumping spider back onto the house. “Of course!” It took a moment before the spider complied but it turned right around to watch. The gentleman opened the door wide as he ducked back into the home. “Come in, come in. I’ll have some tea made but you’ll want to head right up to the attic.”

She paused in the doorway long enough to offer the end of her staff to the jumping spider. It happily leapt onto the flat top and hunkered down for the ride as she started for the stairs. The stairs were well lit, as was what she assumed was the kitchen, and she made a note to apologize for the late hour. Ascending the stairs, she found the attic access easily enough as the door had been removed and the narrow, barren stairs were rather telling. The edges were completely covered in spider silk, several styles of webs overlaying each other in the nooks and crannies to make it nearly impossible to tell what spiders dwell there. There were certainly a good few hundred scattering every which way as she ascended.

The attic was thick with spiderwebs but there was a clear path to walk and an area that looked deliberately untouched. It wasn’t the largest of areas but the she could understand why as movement at the other end of the attic drew her attention. She leaned on her walking staff as she waited, the jumping spider raising its front two legs as if reaching out or waving to what was moving at the other end. She knew what it was the moment it started moving despite never meeting one in person. A human body from the waist up, spider waist down, she now understood how the gentleman downstairs was rumored to have such extensive knowledge.

She dipped her head. “Apologies for the intrusion. The one downstairs beckoned me here.”

A smile pulled across the tired looking face. “I have been dutifully informed.” A wide gesture to encompass the room belayed, “They are quite talkative about any guest we receive. You are the first in quite a while that had been so polite and careful of where you step.”

She smiled wryly. “It is best to not cause a bother if I am requesting something in turn.”

They laughed. “Quite right. Moon soaked spider silk, then?”

She raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “‘Gathered in the light of the full moon’ was all I was given.”

They nodded, already picking their way towards the attic window. When they returned, the gentleman was ascending the stairs with a tray of three cups and a steaming tea pot. The gentleman smiled sweetly to the half human, half spider. “Thank you, Erevan.”

“I would have had to fetch it either way,” they said, passing her a small bundle of spider silk that looked like a thin spool of embroidery floss. “This should work well for what you need. Silk of a moon spider hatched under a full moon’s light whose thread was plucked in the same light. Will it be enough?”

She carefully tucked the small bundle into her bag, offering, “Possibly more than. I will return what I don’t use.”

“Think of the rest as a gift,” they encouraged, a tired smile on their lips. “So long as you enjoy a cup with us and schedule a time to come back and visit.”

She smiled, taking a cup from the gentleman. “That sounds reasonable enough. Thank you.”

Spoiler: The Bat's Bewildering Wings 

Describe the witch's daring midnight flight to collect bat wings in a minimum of 1000 words. These wings are said to imbue her cauldron's contents with an eerie flutter.

The clock chimed half past, warning her that she was cutting it close. She barely reacted as she stood there with a thoughtful gaze out the window. Of all the nights for a raging storm to settle in for the night, this certainly wasn’t the best. If she could postpone her flight, she would, but the blue moon was out above the storm clouds and there was no other night she could get the ingredient without starting all over. Well, the moonstone would be fine for a while yet, but the rest of it…

At least she was prepared for this sort of thing. She didn’t fly often but it wasn’t like she never flew and there had been times when the weather hadn’t been the greatest. Unfortunately, this particular ingredient meant she couldn’t use magic to fortify herself against the raging storm so mundane items it was.

The full-face helmet was meant for a motorcycle or equivalent but she found it worked fantastic for flying as well. The face shield wasn’t tinted but there was a piece that slid down that was. Made flying at night a lot safer than the tinted ones, that was for sure, and it would mean she would be able to see her target, too. She donned her warmest gear with quick hands unsure if it would be warm enough. Unfortunately she needed to be able to move to catch this particular ingredient which meant that she couldn’t layer as much as she would have under other circumstances. Ah well. No use crying over spilled potions.

Snagging her broom from where it rested, she opened the door and stepped out just as the clock chimed quarter till.

The wind shoved at her immediately and she stumbled sideways a few steps under its pressure. She pinned her broom under her arm as she braced against the wind long enough to make sure her front door was closed and locked before working her way down the front steps. Visibility was nearly nonexistent as she tucked the broom under her with both hands grasping it. She let go now and she would never find the poor thing again.

Takeoff was more involuntary than she would have liked. As soon as her feet lost traction with the ground, the wind was throwing her sideways across the ground. She barrel rolled a few times before she managed to straightened out, grateful she had quickly gained altitude before a tree brushed her knees on her last roll. That could have been nasty.

The only reason she managed to gain any altitude was due to the countless years of flying she had done and a thorough understanding of flight and how it worked. Managing to actually fly relatively straight came from her years of experience in extreme winds and not just flying. Though, she could do without the blasted weather on top of the winds. Thankfully, she didn’t need to see to aim for the clouds.

Breaking through the clouds was an ordeal. The moment she popped out of the top, she pulled her broom into as much of a stop as was possible with the high altitude winds and went about clearing the face shield and wiping herself off, not that the latter did much. It would seem she was just going to be cold and stiff from the moisture until she got home.

Following the stars, she made her way towards the bat flight path. She hadn’t bothered to pack a watch as she wouldn’t have been able to check it bundled as she was but she still wished she had brought one. Logic aside, she was worrying about how much time was passing. If she was too late due to the storm-

Quite a number of stars started blinking incessantly along the horizon. For a moment, she didn’t quite understand what she was seeing until she got closer and could differentiate bat from sky, though it was just barely. Anticipation rushed through her and she urged her broom on just a little faster, her gaze now sweeping over the cloud of bats as she drifted across the top of it.

They seemed unbothered by her presence despite the broom she flew on but there was no telling how long that would last. She slowed her broom until the cloud of bats started slowly drifting forward from under her as she scanned the bats for one in particular. Calling the bats a cloud was rather accurate as she was certain she had looked the specific bat over twice because of how much the bats didn’t maintain any given position in the grouping. The specific bat simply made it to the top when she finally spotted it and she dived hard and precise for it.

This time the bats did care and scattered at her sudden presence. Her hand closed around her target, though, and held on securely as she simply kept going. The bat fought her as best it could with one wing awkwardly pinned and her holding it from the back. It tried biting her and smacking her but to no avail. She brought it to her chest as she reentered the storm cloud and the poor thing fell still enough for her to tuck it into the bag on her waist.

The storm was still thick around her house when she made it back. She had to fly parallel to the door just to even get to it and open it. How she didn’t land on her face upon the door slamming open and yanking her inside was beyond her. Still, she would take small graces as she shoved the door shut and locked it before going about putting everything away.

The bat was perturbed when she pulled it out but it remained still in her grasp as she placed it on a cushion on the table. She gently rubbed the patch of discolored fur at the back of its neck as her other hand checked over the wings. It screechy squeaked at her and started thrashing.

“Hush, little one,” she soothed, stopping her check to pin its wings to keep it from hurting itself. She kept gently rubbing the patch. “You have no use for the extra wings and you know it. Trust me when I say the last thing I wish to do is cause you any harm in their removal. If you stop thrashing and lay still, I will set about to make it painless.”

The bat - or, more precisely, the seraphim bat - seemed to glare at her as it settled down. Seraphim bats had been named long before she had ever been born and she thought the name was rather ridiculous. Seraphim bats were rare as they were magical creatures born among nonmagical variants and possessed six wings (or three pairs) yet only needed one pair to fly. They used all of them to fly but it wasn’t necessary so taking their extra wings was far preferred in her opinion. What helped, though, was that they would be far more effective than the nonmagical variants and a seraphim bat could regrow wings, though it would take a good while and they wouldn’t be as strong as before.

If they grew unaided, at least. With quick work of both magic and hands, she plucked the extra pairs of wings from the seraphim bat’s body and healed the bat’s body before allowing it to move. She offered it familiar foods and rubbed its head. “If you wish, I will contribute the necessary magic over the coming fortnight to help your wings come back nice and strong. During your stay you will be well fed and well tended.”

It nipped at her, agitated, but didn’t leave the cushion as she went to store the wings properly.

Spoiler: The Chilling Crow Play 

Write a short one-act play script in which the witch interacts with the cunning crows while gathering feathers in the dark forest. The script should be no shorter than 300 words and should emphasize dialogue and stage directions.

The scene opens up to a forest lit by the midday sun. Leaves cover the ground and foliage is sparse. Scattered among the leaves are a few crow feathers and even fewer of other birds. WITCH enters from stage left center at a leisurely pace and crosses to downstage left. Here WITCH stoops to pick up a not-crow feather and examine it. Cackling is heard offstage right before three CROWS enter upstage right. CROW ONE spots WITCH and stops upstage center, causing CROW TWO and CROW THREE to run into CROW ONE. The three CROWS whisper excitedly. WITCH doesn’t seem to notice and puts the feather down. CROW ONE crosses to downstage left center. CROW TWO crosses to center right. CROW THREE crosses to upstage right center.

WITCH stands and crosses to center.

CROW ONE
To other CROWS
Been a bit since we’ve one like her about in daylight.

WITCH stoops again, picking up a crow feather.

CROW THREE
How often do you see their kind during the day, anyway?

CROW TWO
Short laugh
Not often enough for this to be normal.

CROW ONE
They’re usually in here during the night to be all mystical and stuff. They say the magic’s more potent then and you can find all the best magic things then.

The three CROWS laugh.

CROW TWO
Still laughing
How ridiculous!

CROW THREE
Laughing dies down
Do they really think that?

WITCH
It depends solely on what they’re looking for.

The CROWS squawk and flail in surprise as WITCH stands regarding the three neutrally.

CROW THREE
To CROW ONE
They can understand us?

CROW TWO
To self
That’s not possible.

CROW THREE
They never understand us.

CROW ONE
Gestures for other CROWS to calm down
Calm down you two. I’m sure it’s just a fluke.
A skeptical glance at WITCH
A very, conveniently timed and scarily accurately worded fluke.

WITCH
Raises an eyebrow
If that helps you sleep at night; yeah, we can go with that.

The CROWS squawk and flail again as WITCH starts moving about looking for more feathers.

CROW THREE
Screechy
It understood us!

CROW TWO
To CROW ONE, shouting
What the heck? They never understand us! You said we’d get to joke like always.

WITCH
Stoops to pick up an interesting rock
You still can. My being able to understand you doesn’t have to change that.

CROW TWO
To WITCH
Not if we’re joking about you! You would yell at us!

WITCH
Pauses before looking to CROW TWO
Why would I yell at you for telling jokes?

CROW THREE
People get mad when jokes are about them.

WITCH
Are you being mean?

CROW THREE
Flounders
Ah, well, I mean- we just-

CROW ONE
Cutting in, attempting a sly bravado
It’s all in good fun, Witch. The jokes just sound harsh but we don’t actually mean anything by it.

WITCH looks to CROW ONE as CROW TWO and CROW THREE quickly vocalize their agreement.

WITCH
Unimpressed but still neutral
Uh-huh. Well…
WITCH stands and crosses to CROW ONE
I would suggest that you stop being mean even if you can’t be understood. But…
WITCH takes CROW ONE’s right hand and places the stone in it
You are your own and it is your choice to be mean or not. Though, I would strongly suggest being kinder, seeing as you never know who might be able to understand you.

WITCH crosses to downstage right center at a leisure pace and stoops to examine another not-crow feather.

CROW ONE examine the stone. CROW TWO and CROW THREE draw closer, curious. CROW ONE pockets the stone before CROW TWO and CROW THREE can get a good look at it. CROW ONE crosses to WITCH as CROW TWO pouts and CROW THREE is disheartened.

CROW ONE
Looking over WITCH’s right shoulder
Why are you gathering feathers?

WITCH
I need them for a potion.

CROW ONE
Why not come at night?

WITCH
Rubs feather end into CROW ONE’s face
It’s far easier to find what I need in the daylight.
Stands
Trying to find black feathers in the dead of night is like trying to find a piece of straw in a grass field.

WITCH crosses towards center. CROW ONE follows.

CROW ONE
But why black feathers? Why not the other kinds?

WITCH
Shrugs, facing CROW ONE coming to a stop at center
I need the black ones. Simple as that.

CROW ONE goes to speak but is interrupted by CROW TWO and CROW THREE shoving in between CROW ONE and WITCH, CROW TWO and CROW THREE crowding WITCH. CROW ONE is annoyed at first but settles to watch.

CROW TWO
Mad but also disappointed
Why does he get a stone and we don’t!

CROW THREE
Sad
Are we not good crows?

CROW TWO
Still mad
Give us stones too!

CROW THREE
Hopeful
Even if we’re not good crows, can we still get a trinket, too?

WITCH
Amused, pats CROW TWO and CROW THREE on the head
I still have to find your trinkets.
Thoughtful
Though, if you help me find black crow feathers that are still in good condition-
Gently bops CROW THREE on the head as CROW THREE goes to pluck a feather
And are found on the ground, not plucked from your own bodies, it will give me time to find you both a trinket. What do you say?

CROW TWO and CROW THREE
Ok!

The scene slowly fades on CROW TWO and CROW THREE running around picking up feathers. CROW THREE picks up every feather found while CROW TWO brings only the black ones. CROW ONE keeps WITCH company as WITCH is kind in turning down the feathers that are not needed. CROW ONE and WITCH talk while CROW TWO and CROW THREE are not nearby.

Spoiler: The Enchanted Forest Riddle 

Write a scene in which the witch encounters a sentient tree within the enchanted forest. The tree presents her with a riddle that she must solve to obtain a key ingredient for her potion.

It had been some time since she had last wandered this particular enchanted forest. It was still as unmappable as ever, the forest shifting locations and trees about so that it was nigh impossible to walk the same path over and find the same destination. Not that she minded. The creatures residing within the forest were kind enough to guide her whenever she came. The tawny house cat she was following now was even far more patient than any other feline she had worked with in the enchanted forest, meandering only a few feet ahead of her instead of getting yards away and waiting impatiently for her to catch up only to bound ahead again.

The tawny cat stopped on a rise and sat down, looking back at her with a neutral gaze. She rubbed its head and then its cheek at its own request and then the cat padded away, most likely towards home, as she set her gaze on the tree before her.

She would have liked to have called it ancient but it wasn’t all that much older than she was. Still, it was sentient and that had been her only request.

“I was wondering who was traveling the forest,” the tree said, sounding amused. “It has been quite some time for you since your last visit, has it not?”

“It has indeed.” She patted the trunk, the bark still hardy and healthy under her palm. “I have a request.”

“I have a riddle.”

She smiled at that. “I need a branch of new growth if you would be willing to part with one.”

“Only if you answer my riddle; I have a good one this time.”

“Let’s see if you stump me this time.”

The upper branches of the tree quaked yet she got the impression that the tree was excited. “Simple markings circle my face. The best thing I can do is point. Take me along to stay on track. What am I?”

Immediately ‘clock’ and ‘compass’ sprang to mind, though she amended ‘clock’ was more likely to be ‘watch’ with the last line, but seeing as they were in an ever changing forest, she went with, “You are a compass.”

This time the entire tree shook, excitement and laughter all in one motion. “I had hoped to trick you with that one but it would seem you are as quick as ever.” Something fell from the branches above her head and she looked down to see a freshly broken new growth branch laying by her foot. “As promised: a branch of new growth for answering my riddle.”

She picked the branch up with care, as if it were as precious as silk or gold. “I will have to visit again soon so that we may simply exchange riddles and tales.”

“I would like that very much. Do you need assistance leaving?”

She smiled at the tree. “I appreciate the offer but I think I’ll wander for a bit. Thank you, though.”

“Safe wanderings, then.”

Spoiler: The Ghostly Graveyard Poem 

Engraved stones cradled by fog
Countless others hidden underneath
Faint whispers of wind trace along the top
Whisps of fog follow after

If there is a path, it’s hidden from sight
The fog so thick even shoes vanish within
Careful footfall taps against pavement and the occasional crispy leaf
The only assurance in order to not trip over the dead

The fog waned the deeper she moved
Weaving this way and that until stones became smooth
From the first she had seen these markers seemed ancient
The boundary between old and new blurred too finitely to see

Nature retook what land had been claimed
People long forgotten regrowing the land
Broken stones lay strewn about
Countless other markers forever buried in the soil

Except for one monument caught between massive trees
An abnormality in among the woods
Strong stone walls seem unaffected by time
Still strong, still whole, against the relentless fauna

To step on the land the monument claimed
Gave proof of how unwelcomed she would be
Magic pushed and pulled and urged her away
Yet she knelt there in the soil and spoke the words anyway

The words were foreign as most ancient texts were
Unpracticed and heavy yet sure was each word
She turned the soil before her knees
And took only that which she would need.

In exchange for the soil she removed
Carefully she replaced it with soil of her own
Fresh as it was compared to the old
The soil was still damp from against her home

Spoiler: The Haunting Hag's Haiku 

Soul bound to magic
Woven life and memories
From head to cauldron