At the world’s top college of magic and technology, every day brings a new discovery -and a new disaster. The advanced experiments of the college students tend to be both ambitious and apocalyptic, with the end of the world only prevented by a mysterious time loop, and a small handful of students who retain their memories.

Surviving the loops was hard enough, but now, in his senior year, Vell Harlan must take charge of them, and deal with the fact that the whole world now knows his secrets. Everyone knows about Vell’s death and resurrection, along with the divine game he is a part of. Now Vell must contend with overly curious scientists and evil billionaires hungry for divine power while the daily doomsday cycle bombards him with terrorists, talking elephants, and the Grim Reaper himself -but if he can endure it all, the Last Goddess’s game promises the ultimate prize: power over life itself.

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“You know, I actually kind of don’t want to watch a movie,” Vell said. “Anything else we could do?”

“You don’t want to watch ‘a movie’,” Cane said. “You opposed to the entire concept of movies now?”

“Cane, I didn’t leave my house all summer,” Vell said. “I have watched all the movies I want to watch.”

“Oh. It was really that bad?”

The universe provided an answer to Vell’s question before he could even speak. A fellow student in a lab coat walked up to the table he was sitting at and sat down uninvited.

“Hi, Vell, I know you’ve said no before-”

“Probably going to say no again,” Vell said.

“There are relatively non-invasive ways to do a spinal tap nowadays-”

“No.”

“The hell do you even mean a non-invasive spinal tap,” Luke said. “You’re tapping a spine, how do you do that non-invasively?”

“Well you use magic to briefly isolate the portion of the spine from-”

“Definitely no,” Cane said. He grabbed the lab coat student by the shoulder and forcibly lifted him away from the table. As they retreated with their tail between their legs, Cane turned back to his friends. “Okay, it was that bad.”

“At least here on the island its just scientists,” Vell said. “Back home I had reporters and paparazzi. Fucking paparazzi!”

Vell had tried his best to live a life where paparazzi would never be a factor, but that was all out the window now.

“Did you get the cultists?” Luke asked. “I got some cult invites.”

“I got some prayer circles outside my house, but not much else.”

The dramatic reveal of the world’s last actual capital-G Goddess had naturally involved some shakeup in the religious community, on top of all the other problems. Vell had mostly kept his distance from any such nonsense. He’d dealt with cultists before—quite frequently, in fact—but only in the context of the loops.

“Maybe we should join the cult,” Cane suggested. “That’d be a good way to hang out. They’d probably just do whatever Vell said.”

“As much as I love exploiting people for my own benefit,” Luke said, incredibly sarcastically. “Let’s just do something more normal. Can’t we join that bocce club Hawke and Kim are in?”

“Maybe later,” Cane said. “I’m still trying to figure out my school schedule, I’m not adding some club meetings on top of everything else.”

“Good point,” Vell said. He also had a lot on his plate. “Maybe we just grab Freddy and play cards?”

“Works for me,” Cane said.

***

“I am continually baffled by your inability to bluff, Frizzle,” Cane said.

“I think I studied the math too much,” Freddy said. His attempt to improve his poker abilities by researching the probability involved, and it had backfired spectacularly. “I know exactly how fucked I am all the time, and I can’t hide it.”

“That mindset would explain why Vell is so good at this,” Cane said. “My man is always the same amount of fucked.”

“It is kind of hard to be stressed about card games with the life I live,” Vell said. He could stare down the worst possible hands without blinking. “Speaking of-”

Vell checked his phone. He’d killed time all the way to six in the evening, and while he enjoyed the break, it was starting to run long. While it was possible that the apocalypse was simply starting late today, it was also possible there was a smaller disaster he’d somehow missed.

“I should probably go check out campus,” Vell said. “I don’t keep an eye on things, this place will blow up.”

“Or your people will,” Freddy said. “I don’t want to put even more pressure on you, but one of these days could you convince Alex to be less...Alex?”

Since the two worked in the same department, Freddy was forced to be around Alex a lot more than most. She was a pain in the ass to deal with, and Alex actually liked Freddy. Or respected his intelligence, at least. Apparently most of her asinine behavior was predicated on thinking herself smarter than everyone around her.

“Believe me, it’s a work in progress,” Vell said. “Thanks for the games. See you all later.”

Vell waved goodbye, grabbed his bag, and headed out the door of Cane’s dorm. He got as far as opening the door, and then heard a “click”. Three years of looping had given him the reflexes and the cynicism necessary to dive for cover as soon as he heard a suspicious noise. The instincts proved correct as Vell jumped to the side, narrowly dodging an axe hurtling through the air where his head had just been. The spinning battleaxe sailed through the air and embedded itself in the table Vell had just been sitting at, slicing the stack of playing cards in half as it landed.

“That is not how you’re supposed to split the deck,” Cane said.

“Cane,” Luke said sternly. “Vell almost died.”

“Vell almost dies like thirty times a year, man, I’m over it,” Cane said. Mortal terror for his friend had turned into moderate concern around near-death incident forty, and then into apathy at incident eighty-five.

“I know, but you have to at least pretend to be sensitive about it!”

“Nah, It’s fine,” Vell said. He had watched everyone at that table die at least seventy five times (each), and he had worked past the emotional stress of it. “Real question is why the hell it happened at all.”

Vell walked over to the battleaxe and pried it out of the table, then checked it for identifying markings. There was nothing special about it that he could see; it was a bog-standard battleaxe, of the variety that had been launched at his head many times.

“You know, with all the attention you’ve been getting,” Freddy said. “Should we be worried someone is trying to assassinate Vell?”

“Maybe,” Vell said. “But I feel like most of the people who’d want to kill me could do better than a spring-loaded battleaxe.”

Vell dropped the axe and headed back out the door to examine the rest of the axe-launching mechanism. He saw what was left of that trap -and a whole lot more.

“Oh, okay,” Vell said. “Good news, nobody was trying to kill me. Bad news-”

Freddy, Cane, and Luke stepped up to poke their heads out the door. The long hallways was lined on every side with doors, in front of which were rusty bear traps, cartoonish bombs, rope snares, and even the occasional tank of water with a shark in it.

“-somebody is trying to kill everybody.”

***

“Alright, on three,” Vell said. “One, two, three!”

Vell grabbed the doorknob and immediately leaped to the side, as did his friends. A large battering ram slammed down from the ceiling and swung through the air where they had just been, to no effect. Cane raised his head and then tapped his knuckles against the heavy wooden beam.

“Well that was a bit dull,” Cane said.

“They can’t all be flaming chainsaws.”

“Nor should they be,” Freddy grunted. He was missing a chunk of hair from a close call with said flaming chainsaw.

“The variety worries me as much as anything,” Vell said. He stepped outside the dorm building and took a quick look around. He could only see a handful of buildings from here, but every single door he saw was trapped, just like the dorms inside. “How is every single door on campus booby...trapped and why?”

“Why’d you pause like that?”

“I think subconsciously I was giving Harley time to giggle at the word ‘booby’,” Vell admitted.

“I miss her too,” Freddy said.

“We need to focus, though,” Vell said. “Something on this scale could only be done with magic.”

“Well then we go to the expert,” Luke said. “Do you want to call Lee, or should I?”

Vell bit his tongue. The silence lasted long enough that Luke got the point.

“Come on, man.”

“Local problems need local solutions,” Vell said. “Lets go see Alex.”

***

“Alight, everybody get ready on-”

“On three, Vell, we know,” Cane said. “This is like the seventh door we’ve gone through.”

“Excuse me for trying to ensure no one gets an axe in the skull,” Vell said. “Fine. One, two, three!”

Vell ripped the door open, and everyone hit the deck. A massive nothing sailed overhead, followed by a barrage of jack shit and a followup of nada. Cane raised his head to look at the absence of booby traps.

“Get off the floor,” Alex said. “I already disarmed that door’s trap.”

The four men stood up and tired their best to pretend they hadn’t just been flopped on the floor like idiots for no reason. Alex ignored their attempted recovery and continued her work, as Goldie handed her another stack of reference materials.

“So I see you’ve noticed the booby trap problem.”

“It’s fairly obvious, yes,” Alex said. “So far I have determined that the traps were manifested by magical means. I still have a few Malignancy Confluence tests running, but I’ve mostly ruled out curses as a point of origin, and Directional Mana Flow analysis seems to indicate that all of the traps were summoned from another location.”

“Okay. So our next priority is figuring out where that location is-”

“It’s beneath the island,” Alex said. “Unfortunately I can’t narrow it down any further. Between the senior labs and the school’s numerous storage basements, there’s too many magical anomalies to precisely locate anything.”

“Very thorough,” Vell said. Apparently Alex had some kind of unique magical gift, but Vell hadn’t seen much evidence of that until now. The only acumen she’d demonstrated so far was in being a jackass. “Any potential workarounds for that location problem?”

“Triangulation,” Alex said. “My tracking spells are pinging too many different magical signatures in too many different directions to be useful. With additional points of reference, I could identify the errors and locate the actual origin point.”

“Let’s, uh, do that then,” Vell said.

“Understood. Ms. Falkenberg, can you finish up here? Do I need to write the instructions down for you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Goldie grunted, in a way that made it very clear she had become well-acquainted with Alex’s unique “charm”.

“Excellent. We’re located on one of the westernmost points of the island, so readings from the southeast and northeast points should be our best references. Do any of the four of you actually know how to do a directional mana flow analysis, or will I have to do everything myself?”

“I’m a neurologist, lady,” Cane said. Though he didn’t need that expertise to know there was something wrong with Alex’s head.

“Well, divide and conquer is generally the best approach, but if I’m the only expert, we’ll make do,” Alex said. “I’ll trust the rest of you to escort me through the booby traps.”

Alex grabbed a few of her things and set out. She did not look over her shoulder until she hit the first booby-trapped door, and when she looked over her shoulder at her “escort” she found that it consisted of exactly one person.

“What happened to the rest of your friends?”

“Uh, had something else to do, I guess,” Vell said. Freddy, Cane, and Luke had all dropped out at the first sign of actually having to spend time with Alex.

“Well, it’s not as if we needed their expertise,” Alex said. “Though it might have been nice to have the extra bodies.”

“Please do not think of my friends as cannon fodder.”

“Only in a temporary sense,” Alex said. “We sacrifice our own lives often enough.”

“We make an informed choice,” Vell said. “Non-loopers don’t have the same context.”

If Alex heard anything Vell said, she certainly didn’t act like it. She simply gestured towards the booby-trapped door, beckoning Vell to open it. He did so, but he glared at Alex the whole time, even as a shotgun blast fired into the empty air.

“Hold on a minute before we head through any more doors,” Vell said. “I’m going to have Hawke and Kim get our third triangulation point ready. Samson’s not responding, I’m assuming he’s either busy or blown up.”

“Maybe his phone is just damaged,” Alex suggested.

“That counts as blown up,” Vell said. “Anyway, they’re getting ready, let’s keep going.”

It only took them a few seconds to reach another booby-trapped door on the way to their destination, which Vell disarmed and opened.

“Man,” Vell said. “You never think about how many doors you walk through on a daily basis until they’re all trying to kill you.”

“Given everything you’ve been through, is this really the first time doors have tried to kill you?”

“Oh, obviously I’ve been killed by a door before,” Vell said. “Building mimic, hidden portal to hell, weird door-guillotine, but those were all singular doors. It’s never been every door on campus before.”

Vell dodged a flurry of poison darts from the ceiling as he passed through another door.

“So now all of a sudden I’m hyper-aware of every door I walk through, you know?”

“Don’t you have more important problems to focus on in this situation?”

“I’ve been doing this a while, Alex, I can dodge death and make small talk at the same time.”

A point Vell demonstrated by snatching a spear out of mid-air and tossing it aside. The spear was thankfully the last booby trap they had to contend with before exiting the building and stepping onto the quad. They walked across the completely doorless grass to get Alex to a good spot for her next round of magical detection. Alex picked an open field on the far side of the island and started drawing a ritual circle on an open piece of sidewalk. Vell stepped back and took a video of the circle drawing, to send to Kim.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“You can avoid unnecessary distractions,” Alex said. Vell shut up and let her do her thing. She finished drawing the chalk circle, placed different spell components around the area, and then started performing the elaborate hand gestures intrinsic to casting spells. Unlike a lot of mages Vell had known, Alex performed no flourishes, added no dramatic touches to her casting. She simply made stiff, rote motions until she had finished casting.

The thoroughly unimpressive style was compounded by the fact that Alex’s magical energy manifested as a dull gray color. Every spellcaster had their magic manifest a different color -Lee’s was a bright violet, Skye had a faint cerulean sparkle, and even Kraid’s had a sickly green-black glow. Vell had never seen gray magic before. He wondered what that said about Alex, and assumed it said nothing good.

Though her magic was not impressive, it was effective, and Alex finished her ritual in moments. Dull gray magic surged out of her hands and traced lines of ley energy across the campus, soaring towards anomalies and magical hubs before returning to Alex’s hands. She hummed with casual interest at the feedback and started to take notes. Vell waited patiently for her to finish the process, knowing that asking any questions now would just get him a scathing comment.

“Alright, ready to move on,” Alex said. She tucked her pen away and put her notebook back in her backpack. “Where is Kim setting things up?”

“Just outside the botany lab,” Vell said. Alex started pacing that direction immediately. “So, any leads on where this is all happening?”

“There are some solid indicators, but nothing concrete yet,” Alex said.

“Well, any leads we can start to follow?”

“To what end? You’ll need my skills to defuse the situation either way.”

“Right, forget I asked,” Vell said. He followed along to the third ritual site, which had been prepared in advance by Kim. The chalk circle was a precise recreation of the one Alex had drawn, perfect in every way -a far cry from its creator. Kim’s metal body was dented, scuffed, pockmarked by acid, and slightly singed.

“Hey Vell,” Kim said. An accumulation of injuries that would’ve killed any human was a minor inconvenience to the resident robot.

“Kim. I see you haven’t been disarming any of the traps.”

“Why bother? All this shit is designed to kill humans,” Kim said. “I’m fine.”

“You’ve got a little bit of sword in your shoulder.”

“And I’m doing great,” Kim said, as she plucked the metal shard out of her shoulder joints. “No problem at all.”

“Fantastic, you’re walking in front when we go wherever we’re going,” Vell said. Kim gave a lazy salute and did not protest the order.

“Very, very far ahead,” Hawke added.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to,” Vell said.

“No, I’m not letting Kim out of my sight,” Hawke said. “We made a bet on how many traps would just launch swords and axes.”

“So far, I am losing,” Kim said. “I was expecting wackier shit from this school, like, come on, where’s the live eels?”

“I did get a snake dropped on me earlier,” Vell said.

“Yeah, so did we, but that’s as creative as it’s gotten,” Kim said. “Whoever made these traps really lacked imagination.”

“Are you all implying that you want to be murdered with more panache?” Alex asked. Apparently she saw fit to interrupt her own spellcasting to criticize them.

“Yeah, I am,” Hawke said. “If I’m going to die horribly I want it to be done with a little ‘panache’.”

“Same,” Kim agreed. “I want a little style.”

Kim’s head tilted to the side, to examine Alex’s dull gray spellcasting.

“Clearly I won’t be getting any, though.”

In a completely boring finale, sluggish gray light flowed out of Alex’s hands and raced across campus before returning, just as they had before. Alex started taking notes as the flowing rivers of magic returned to her. Vell waited patiently as she went through an even more complicated series of calculations. It took even longer this time, due to Alex’s need to cross-reference with two other sets of data. Vell checked his phone and checked in on a few friends while she worked, and had wrapped up multiple conversations by the time she finished.

“Follow me,” Alex said, as she put her notes away and started walking. Kim put some eyes on her facial screen just to roll them.

“Follow you where?”

“The source of the traps is in the school’s basement,” Alex said.

“Which basement?”

“Does it matter?”

“There is a live chimera in one of the basements, so yes, it does matter,” Kim said.

“Why did you leave a chimera in the basement?”

“It’s Craig’s house,” Hawke said. “He lives there!”

The loopers avoided Craig the Chimera for the sake of politeness, not fear. No one was entirely sure how his house had ended up embedded in the school’s sub-level, but they knew he liked to be left alone.

“I have no way of knowing which of the many basements it is, nor what threats might be in them,” Alex said.

“Well then maybe don’t go too far ahead of us,” Vell said. “There’s also a lava trench somewhere down there.”

“Why are you not negating these threats?”

“How do you want us to handle the lava trench?” Kim snapped. “You want us to empty it out with a bucket?”

“We handle what we can handle,” Hawke protested. “We turned off a robot tiger, disabled a laser grid-”

“Save it for after we deal with today’s problem, please,” Vell said. “Alex, lead the way, Kim, you go through all the doors first.”

“Fine. But keep track of what I get hit with, Vell, I want to win that bet.”

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Chapter Three:

(Dawn)

The ride to my tiny Craftsman bungalow house in Brighton Corner didn’t take but 10 minutes, which wasn’t bad from East Bayside. I’d never been able to afford living on the peninsula and after several years of renting in Deering, Woodfords, and the Back Cove, I finally found a house on June Street that was perfect. 

From the moment I saw it, I knew the home had everything I wanted, from a gated yard bordering a small patch of woods to a front yard garden just waiting to be nursed back to health through careful attention and love.

“Wow. You’ve got quite a pretty little house there. I can only imagine what it costs to rent,” Frankie said, eyes widening as we pulled into the driveway. 

June Street was tucked away on Portland’s west side not far from Shay’s, one of the less popular food store chains that was doing all it could to survive the onslaught of Grocery Basket and Henneford Supermarket (Hennie’s as the locals sometimes called it). 

Trees surrounded the entire street that only had about four houses on it counting mine. 

A great-horned owl hooted in the oak tree that leaned a little closer to my covered porch every year. 

“Oh, I don’t rent. This pretty little parlor is all mine,” I said, beaming. “Well — it’s the bank’s until I pay it off in 25 years, but semantics.” 

Frankie turned to me and whistled. 

“Owning property in Portland before 30? Who did I go home with tonight? A trust fund child From Away?”

I snickered. 

“Partially right. I am From Away. I definitely don’t have a trust fund. But how do you know I’m under 30?”

Frankie Dee shrugged and got out of my car. 

“I dunno, bub. Just always been good at guessing ages. You still seem like you’re a couple of years away from that threshold.” 

Walking around my vehicle and leaning on my hood, I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow. 

“Flatterer. Save your compliments, I already took you home, didn’t I? And don’t tell me you’re one of those women who think life is all downhill once your age no longer starts with a two.” 

I saw Frankie eyeing my garden full of sprouted daffodils, perky and defiant of any remaining April snow or chill. I loved that about those stubborn little flowers.

For a moment, Frankie bore a more melancholic expression as she stared at nothing in particular. 

“Ha. No, life isn’t all downhill after 30. Age doesn’t mean much to me. In my eyes, there’s just work that needs to be done. Whether you’re 20 or 60, the work ain’t going anywhere.” 

Holy hell, who killed this woman’s spirit? I thought, elbowing my new friend in the ribs, which elicited a small stammer of surprise and was quickly followed by a breathless giggle. 

“Go back to complimenting my house,” I said. “I’ve put a lot of work into it.” 

Frankie Dee snorted and looked over at the two-story home I’d pumped more blood, sweat, and cash into than I cared to admit. It was still an almost 70-year-old home, but the fresh grey paint I added last fall still looked pretty damn good. 

“I like how your window frames are red to match the front door,” Frankie said, taking time to look over my house. “And the little stone steps painted like flowers leading up to the front door are really cute. This place just seems so. . . whole, ya know? Carefully put together piece by piece.” 

Well, shit. I’d jokingly told her to compliment my home, and she’d done just that. Only her words had gone past inspiring pride and instead left even me a little emotionally hamstrung as I fought a growing blush. 

Still, there was a part of me that enjoyed the attention on a place I’d worked for years to fix up. A human being was here right in front of me appreciating something I’d busted my ass to fix up. Month after month of YouTube tutorials, trips to House Depot, and weekend warrior projects that almost left me feeling a little too white picket fence at times. 

And Frankie’s compliments weren’t just internet comments that felt good for a few minutes and then vanished like cotton candy accidentally dropped into a puddle. They were warm words that were being said to my face, by a really cute girl that I wanted to bring inside and kiss. 

Instead of doing that, I found myself asking, “You want to see the back? I’ll show you my kid.” 

Frankie Dee just stood there blinking. 

“You have a kid?”

I nodded, grinning mischievously and pointing with my chin. We walked over to a gate on the side of my house as motion lights kicked on, bathing us in pale beams. A six-foot wooden privacy fence surrounded my backyard on the sides. It transitioned to ranch fencing and chicken wire on the side facing the woods. 

My backyard wasn’t huge by any means. A small chicken coop I’d built from scrap wood a neighbor gladly gave me sat close to the house. I bruised my thumbs so much that weekend that I had trouble moving them for days afterward. And the curses I hissed that day probably killed at least a rose bush or two elsewhere in the neighborhood. 

Frankie followed me as more motion lights kicked on, and a small bleating sound echoed from the back porch. That’s when she came into view, half running/half hobbling in the way my kid often did. 

A black and white pygmy goat that didn’t even come up to my knees bleated happily and bumped her head into my leg. She was entirely snow-colored except for splotches of black on her front legs and over her eyes. 

“Frankie Dee, I want you to meet Billie,” I said, picking up the 17-pound goat. 

This was her true test. I watched for signs of disgust or flinching, but in two seconds Frankie’s face went from curious about the noise to full-on adoration of my fluffy child. 

“Oh my goodness! She’s just a little guy!” she cooed and came over to pet her. 

Billie wasn’t shy. She sniffed and lightly nibbled on Frankie’s fingers with her lips. She only had back teeth, so it was actually difficult for her to bite you unless you stuck your fingers in her mouth like a moron. 

Frankie oo’ed and aw’ed over my goat for another couple of minutes before she looked up at me with a sneer. 

“Wait. . . Billie? As in, Billie the Kid?”

The grin that sneaks over my lips is nothing less than pure goofball. And Frankie Dee loves every bit of it. I can tell by the way she shakes her head looking at the ground.

“Come on. I’ll introduce you to the Fates,” I said, setting Billie down and walking her over to the chicken coop. 

She follows and watches as I open the latch and slowly unveil three Buff Orpington hens who cluck a little but otherwise remain on their nests of straw and pine shavings staring at us. Most of their feathers are a light gold color with their necks taking on more of a brownish hue. Their combs are as red as my front door. 

“Hey there, ladies. Don’t mind me. Just showing you off to my new friend,” I said, letting Frankie peek in for a closer look. 

“Oh wow! You’ve got some stout ladies in there,” she giggles. “Fresh eggs?”

I nod. 

“That, and they help control ticks and snakes in the backyard.” 

My new friend turned to me and managed to fight her fluster just long enough to ask, “So, if I stay the night, does that mean I get scrambled eggs in the morning?”

I raised an eyebrow and asked, “Are you staying the night?”

She shakes her head. 

“With a stranger? Sorry, no. I don’t care how pretty she is, I’m not staying the night with someone I’ve known for less time than it’d take me to watch ‘Return of the King.’” 

Leaning against the chicken coop, I batted my eyelashes at Frankie and said with the sweetest voice I could muster, “But what if I put on ‘Return of the King?’ Would you stay the night then?” It’s almost cartoonish the way I asked with a leering smirk. 

“Theatrical edition?” Frankie asked, sounding entirely serious. 

“Yeah.” 

“No.” 

I frown. 

“Extended edition?” she asked, again appearing deliberate. 

“Sure.” 

“Still no,” she said, laughing. 

I shook my head and led the newest book club members inside my house after petting Billie some more. 

My living room is wide open and consists mostly of a corner sofa and a small television perched on an antique chest I thought looked rustic.

A blue and white rug stretched out from under my couch for several feet before it surrendered to a hardwood floor. 

In the corner, a petrified tree stump sits on a thin black rug. It’s covered in purple and silver candles that surround a tiny, hand-sized cauldron filled with tiny bones, smoky quartz, and crow feathers. The cauldron rests on a wooden case containing my Wise Goat Tarot cards. An incense holder carved in the shape of a raven sits on the very back of the stump. 

The shrine immediately draws Frankie Dee’s stare, and I greet my visitor with her second test of the night, watching her eyes for immediate disapproval. But I’m greeted more with curiosity than anything as she turns to me. 

“My shrine to The Morrigan,” I said, shrugging. 

“Who is that?” Frankie asked. 

“Celtic goddess of war and destiny,” I said. “I work with her most frequently.” 

Frankie nodded slowly looking back at the altar as she rubbed her chin. I can’t quite read her expression. 

“You’re, what, Wiccan?” she asked. 

I scrunch my face and shake my head. 

“I prefer to just call myself a witch or a practicing pagan if you want a term that’s a little less halloween-ey,” I said, shrugging. 

Frankie Dee’s mouth is a straight line for a moment before she mutters, “Fascinating,” in her best Hank McCoy impression. Though, I doubt that was her intent. 

Walking over to the altar, I pick up one of the feathers from the cauldron and turn to face my new friend. 

“I learned most of my starting craft practices from my grandmother. It drove my father mad,” I said fighting a flinch at imagining his voice. “But he can fuck off. I loved every moment I had with her and think about her each day I light these candles.” 

My heart stirs anytime I get to talk about the craft. It feels like the right kind of defiance, and that pride swells with each episode of Dawn’s Divinations I record in the morning. My guest grew quiet as I talked. 

And soon I’d have a column in the Portland Lighthouse-Journal, reaching a whole new audience of readers who will hopefully start asking bigger questions with their lives. My meeting with the paper’s publisher and managing editor tomorrow to sign the contract was the most important thing on my calendar this month. 

Frankie took a step closer to my altar and smiled, putting a hand on my shoulder. 

“You’re all fired up and passionate. Kind of adds a sexy new layer to the lady who took me home tonight,” she said with the full confidence of someone fully expecting to be kissed. I have no clue where she pulled it from, but it does things to me as I lean closer. 

“Gotta say. You’re talking an awful lot of game for someone within smooching range,” I said. 

Her eyes widened, and I watched the deer in the headlights look overtake a woman who’d only just managed to get a single flirtation out before receiving returning fire. Fuck, Frankie swerved between the lanes of “flirt” and “freeze” like a crazed driver, and all I wanted to do was throw her on the couch and climb on top of the blonde trapped in the full frenzy of gay panic. 

With surprising strength, I watched Frankie Dee move her lips closer to mine. It was daring and a bold play for someone who I could paralyze with a stray smile. And yet, I got the feeling she wasn’t like that all the time. I sensed an audacious flavor of strength in this woman. She could waltz into any boardroom or public meeting and say things I’d have to practice for a week to not lose my nerve over. 

It’s just pretty girls that do her in, I thought, taking a moment to appreciate the warmth and desire radiating from Frankie’s lips. 

I closed my eyes and finally united our lips like I’d been wanting to since I first laid eyes on our newest book club member at the bar. 

Trying not to sound cliche, I quickly realized Frankie was wearing cherry chapstick. And she was so soft and ready for me. The way she seemed to drink me in, the way she pressed her body against mine, and the way she groaned when I took her bottom lip between my teeth, all let me know it’d been a long time since anyone had done this to her. Was no one interested in this incredibly cute blonde, or had she simply been too busy to allow someone to treasure her?

Frankie Dee didn’t hesitate to let me take control of the kiss and set a tempo. The truth was, she seemed so grateful to have my lips on hers that I doubted she’d object to much in the moment. 

I deepened the kiss and moved us over to the couch where Frankie let me lay her down and climb on top while she cupped my face in her hands. Warmth built in my core as she ran her fingers through my hair, found where I’d tied the bandana, undid it and then tossed the thin fabric aside so she could rub the back of my head and neck more freely. 

All of that elicited a moan from yours truly, and Frankie’s body started to hum like the neon sign of a 24/7 diner. 

Running her fingers over my ass and squeezing it, I felt a shiver ride halfway up my spine. 

“If you want to do things like that, we’d best move this to the bedroom,” I hissed as Frankie Dee started to kiss my neck, and moisture built in the other place I wanted her lips to be. 

“Uh. . . huh,” she managed in between kisses when we fought for air. 

We stumbled through the dim hallway, Frankie’s shoulder bumping the wall and threatening to knock over a photo of sunrise over Casco Bay. 

And then we were on my queen bed, spread out over a red and black duvet. I looked into the hungry brown eyes of my partner for the night and found myself smiling, butterflies doing somersaults in my tummy. She didn’t even take a breath before pulling me down to nibble on my collarbone. In response, I moaned and pushed my pelvis into hers for harder contact, cursing the pants on Frankie that kept me from feeling her through the fabric. 

Loud bleating from outside brought me back to reality as I sat up and cursed. 

“I’m so sorry. I think I forgot to lock up the chicken coop,” I said. 

Catching her breath and coming down from the heat we were building, Frankie Dee almost groaned in protest as I got up from the bed. 

“I’ll be right back,” I said. “How about, to make up for the momentary disruption, I’ll walk back into the room sans dress?”

The blonde woman in my bed honest-to-gods bit her teeth in my direction, and I found myself lit with fire anew. 

Turning to go, I looked back over my shoulder for just a moment. 

“Oh, I had your consent to do the thing we were about to do, right? Just wanted to make sure.” 

With her eyes suddenly drooping, Frankie nodded. And then she yawned, which caused me to turn back around and cross my arms. 

“Well, I’m sorry you found our activities so dull, Frankie,” I said, grinning and leaning against the door frame. 

She rubbed her eyes and then shook her head in a desperate bid not to look exhausted. 

“I’m sorry. I was at the office at 5 a.m. this morning for an interview, and your bed is fucking comfy. But I’ll be SO ready when you get back,” Frankie said. 

Holy shit. Who arrives at the office that early? I thought, fighting a frown. It’s already midnight, and she came straight from work at 7 tonight. 

Pushing those thoughts aside, I ran outside to close the chicken coop, made sure Billie’s water was full and accessible, and came back in. 

Taking a deep breath in the hallway, I stripped to my black bra and panties, sauntering back into the bedroom, trying hard not to leap at Frankie on the bed to resume our rather explicit activities. 

“Now. . . where were we?” I asked in as saucy of a voice as I could produce.

When I didn’t get an immediate response, I thought, Damn. She’s frozen in awe at the sight of me. No doubt about it, Dawn. You’ve still got it. 

Light snoring immediately shattered my inner monologue as I looked more closely at the bed to find my partner. . . entirely passed out. 

Motherfucker! I thought. I either really did bore her, or she truly was exhausted after working a 14-hour shift. 

Scanning the bags under her eyes, I sighed. 

“For the sake of my ego, I’m going to assume it’s the latter,” I muttered, finding a fuzzy white blanket I stole from an ex named Brittany, and covering my date for the night. My incredibly cute and incredibly frustrating date.

Changing into my comfy pajamas and turning out the lights, I decided to bunk on the couch tonight. It took a while to fall asleep as all my effort went into not thinking about what we’d been doing on this very couch just minutes ago.

Previous | First Chapter | Next

Tobi and the Novas continued to train on Azuria and increase their knowledge of iko, along with their strength and techniques. They took turns switching with the other Novas, invading the Cerian Empire and protecting the Federation, throughout the next several weeks.

Beyond progressed with a path forward, securing a safe route for Earth and the other planets of the Federation through Cerian Space. In due time they came across the last habitual planet, at the end of their path. A planet, that looked to be recovering from a mass invasion. With abandoned cities, overtaken by nature and an incredibly small population of survivors, showing up on Saphyra's scans.

She immediately rushed to Sarah, with the news, hoping to confirm something. However, as she watched Sarah's eyes light up, she got her answer. The war-torn, ghost planet, was in fact Rennaya.

Such news made headlines across Earth and the rest of the Federation. A massive event was created, to help raise the declining morale and to showcase progress. Beyond, would be visiting Rennaya, and performing a late funeral for the people there.

Sarah also wanted to dig up, all of the ancient artifacts and records, the planet might have to offer. Within a couple of days, of the discovery, Saphyra had gathered together four million troops, commanded and protected by seven and a half million combat androids. Dozens of Aeromachs were loaded with hundreds of tanks and aircrafts, all ready to be deployed.

Osei & Kalista insisted on going. The Novas had noticed that the Rennayans were holding back their emotions and didn't break out of character. However, they knew, the images and drone videos, that Saphyra had shown them, tore them apart.

Saphyra was hesitant but decided to add them to the roster. She then picked Norah, Tai, and Helio to lead an expedition, on the Northern continent. Kiala, Jacira, and Nate were to lead another expedition to the Western continent and lastly, Kayed, Simon, and Carina were to travel to the Eastern continent.

As for Tobi and Osei, she allowed them to have the freedom to look into the city of Senae, within the Central continent. Kalista wanted to go alone, but since the Azurian royal family wanted to take part, Saphyra asked her to escort Kaieda and Yori along with her to her hometown.

Akio granted each of the teams, a few of his Hashin to tag along with them. For his family though he doubled the security. With the Azurian's help, Saphyra was now more confident that she could carry out this event with no problems.

Noon the following day...

One hundred and sixty Aeromachs, entered the Rennayan Solar System, making their way towards Rennaya. Only ten ships descended to the planet, the rest remained in orbit, securing the Solar System and conducting lighter expeditions on nearby planets and moons. They discovered old mining and research outposts on planets, moons, and asteroids that the Rennayans had set up. Using them for agriculture and inescapable prisons as well.

Tobi was a little excited to be learning a bit more about his roots. He loved visiting Nigeria with his family. Food back home was unlike anything else. With the sights and the culture, although he often felt a loss of cultural identity growing up so far away, visiting there always gave him a sense of home.

Now landing in Senae, after everything he had been told about, it all just felt surreal. Still, Tobi, knew better than to show his excitement, in front of Osei. Knowing his brother may still have some trauma, haunting him.

Sarah continued around them as usual. She had not been able to spend much time with them, after her transformation, but they didn't mind, just teased her a bit, and let her be. They always knew, that every one of the projects she worked on, and continued to work on, would positively impact Beyond's military strength in space.

"The other teams have their missions, but you two, including Kalista, are free to do whatever you want... After you get in first contact with the natives here..." She said as she watched them roll their eyes. "Just let them know, that we come in peace, please?"

They nodded, as two Hashin, split apart, following behind them, into the sky. Both, headed toward coordinates, Sarah had updated on their monitors. A light HUD display on their retinas, that could be shut on and off by thought.

Osei ignored his orders and went straight to the spot. The place he last saw his parents broadcasted. The feeling he had seeing, their skeletons still in place.

He broke down, while the Hashin watching him, knew immediately to give him his space. He began preparing a coffin to keep them in, as they would most likely transport them to the royal cemetery, near the Hallantium. Osei thanked the Hashin for giving him a hand.

Tobi landed on the outskirts of the city, near a forest. He wondered if he was in the right spot. As he flew through the city, he was surprised by the craftsmanship the people had. Remnants of fallen skyscrapers roamed the city, invaded and reclaimed by the environment.

He wished he could have seen what it was like, back in the day. The sound of twigs snapping caught his attention. He glanced around, looking deep into the forest, to try and find the source of the sound.

Pushing some leaves to the side, a young Rennayan woman around his age, made her way into the open. Staring him down.

Tobi slowly placed one hand on his chest, above his heart and bowed slightly, a familiar action in his culture back home. Osei had taught him, this was also a show of respect, to another fellow Rennayan.

"Hi, my name is Tobi, Commander of the Beyond Space Force. What is your name?" His comm, helped to translate the words out of his mouth, as he spoke.

The woman backed up slowly but replied while trying to hide the fear from her voice. "Are you a child of Atlas?" She asked, wary.

Tobi, shook his head, wondering what would make her think that, yet she continued. "Are you a slave of the Cerian Empire?"

Tobi shook his head once more. "No, I am not affiliated with the Cerian Empire. I'm from Earth, a planet far off in space. Way too far to imagine, but somehow I found out, that I might also have come from here." As he said that, he calmly reached his hand out, with his palm facing up.

Pebbles crashed together forming a tiny sphere, followed by a ball of fire manifesting, then an orb of electricity, all orbiting around a sphere of telekinetic force, cracking up air in the middle. Last, ice manifested, joining the mix and leaving the girl astonished.

"It can't be... you are..." She stuttered, then dropped to her knees, shocked.

Tobi stopped what he was doing to help, her up. As he did, she grabbed hold of him and asked with sincere eyes. "Please help us! Our doctor is sick."

He thought about it for a second, then agreed. Moments later the woman rushed him, to her village. Deep within the forest. He expected to come across makeshift huts and salvaged garbage from the city. He was half right.

The woman had introduced herself, to him as Jelani. She had a dark complexion and wore ragged old clothes. She was around 5'9, with beautiful blue eyes, that had seen, enough stress in her life. Yet she carried on with the strength of a lion.

She brought him to a door of an underground bunker. Branches and leaves camouflaged it. Jelani walked up and brushed some aside, revealing a hi-tech touchpad. She tapped several buttons, then stepped back, as a door, revealed itself shimmering as nanites parted parted ways.

A small elevator took them down, with an open view of the entire bunker, leaving Tobi speechless. The interior of the bunker was massive, housing at least one hundred and fifty people with a capacity of tens of thousands.

The people seemed depressed, Tobi thought, as they got closer to a makeshift gate. Two Rennayan men stood firm, as guards.

"Who is that with you Jelani? He is not from around here." One of them asked, in a deep tone.

Jaleni frowned. "What's it to you, Remi? He's my guest. We're in a hurry, so let me through."

She started to walk through the gate, but the other guard grabbed her up, restraining her, as the other one stepped up to Tobi. However, In one swift motion, a large golem made up of ice, manifested, grabbing hold of the guard's leg, holding Jelani and lifted him up.

He dropped her yelling out, as a second golem caught her. Embarrassed, he began punching the golem, with fists covered in stones, telling it, to let him down.

At the same time, Tobi sidestepped Remi's reach with fire at his heels, then grabbed his arm, and twisted it behind his back, as he moulded cuffs out of stone and metal to keep him still.

People started to gather, while Jelani was let down. "Did he just use...?"

"It's not possible..." The people murmured.

Tobi looked down at Remi. "Listen, when people are talking to you. I was invited here on an urgent task. I apologize for doing this, but I do not have time to go through the right procedures right now."

He gave the man a smile, although he knew he wasn't getting one back. "I promise I will be back."

Tobi started to leave, as Jelani watched Remi, get up slowly with his hands still cuffed behind his back. She called out after Tobi, but it was too late, both of the guards had freed themselves, gathering their utmost strength to take on the monster that had just walked past them.

Tobi continued walking without care. With his next step though, a trail of ice, raced out from under his sole, freezing the two lunging at him. Then a titanium and diamond cage swallowed them up and rose, as a tower to the ceiling of the bunker, keeping them prisoner.

He turned his head towards Jelani, who was shocked by what she had just witnessed. She grew up with Remi and the other guard. They were one of the toughest in the village. She couldn't imagine them losing so easily.

"Are you coming? Don't worry about them. They just need to cool their heads a bit." Tobi said, as he continued walking.

Jelani looked up at the imprisoned guards once more, then turned around to lead the way. Pausing as their path was laden with people kneeling and murmuring to themselves. Some of the elders had tears flowing, thanking God for what they had just witnessed.

Tobi was a bit puzzled, but he could tell, they were doing this for him. Jelani looked back, seeing his confused expression. "What do you expect? The legendary Rennayan was only supposed to be a legend or a fairy tale. Showing off your abilities like that only gives them hope."

She grabbed his hand, rushing him forward. "Come on! We have to hurry!"

They stopped in front of one of the largest mobile units, the size of a single home. It looked ancient but was more held together than the rest of the units. Which spread around in a circle, with the large headquarters in the center. Storing their security monitors and warning devices, that helped the survivors keep tabs on the outside. The headquarters also contained a large elevator, behind it, to help bring or evacuate the masses.

Jelani had told Tobi, as much as she could, on the way over to the clinic. He noticed many tents set up outside of it.

He could hear the sound of painful coughs, and feel the pain that the people were suffering from. He made a protective ice mask, to filter the air, he was breathing, realizing, that there was an outbreak in the bunker.

He followed Jelani, into the clinic, as she made her way toward a large room. Passing by more sick people, waiting for their end.

On a small bed, laid a middle-aged woman, weak and holding on to life, as best as she could. Tobi walked up to her, while Jelani, rushed to her side, whispering to her.

One look at her and Tobi knew she wasn't going to make it past the next few days, possibly even the next morning. He approached slowly as Jelani, glanced back, crying. "Please, is there anything you can do?" She asked, desperately.

Tobi was unsure, he had never practiced his medical abilities, as often as Helio and Nur, so he didn't know the extent of what he could heal. Sarah had often had them partake in volunteer missions, in impoverished countries. Healing as many of those, suffering from diseases, wounds, and ailments.

He placed one hand over her stomach, summoning forth, the sickness, weakening her by isolating the areas affected with ice. However, it backfired, spreading itself further and putting the host through much more pain.

The woman screamed out, as a nurse rushed in, while Jelani held onto the woman's hand. Tobi, felt, the weight of another's life, in his hands, something, he'd been feeling too often lately. He knew he couldn't mess this up.

He burst into second gear, limiting his energy outpour to himself, to avoid hurting those around him. He concentrated on his patient. Isolating the infected areas and deleting the cells slowly, while accelerating new cell growth. It strained him, but after five minutes, he was able to replace all of her infected cells, with healthy ones.

The woman stopped convulsing, as she slept, at peace. The nurse and Jelani rushed to the woman's side, checking her vitals and status. However, Tobi knew, as he turned around to focus his attention on the remaining patients in the clinic, that she would be alright.

Ice golems, shaped like Tobi, manifested in front of the majority of them, powered by a flaming core and scaring people throughout the hospital. Regardless, they quickly dropped their guards, when a warm euphoric feeling, soothed them.

"Frost: Elixir of Life," Tobi whispered, then dropped to one knee, as he began to suffer side effects. Each breath he took, was followed by mist and vapor. His body started to shiver, as frost began spreading all across his body.

Jelani turned to thank him but stopped when she noticed what was happening to him. "Tobi! Are you alright?!"

Tobi winced, from cold stings, but continued to reach for his belt. He retrieved a booster and injected himself with it.

Then, stood up, recovering himself from the frost taking over his body. At the same time, a man around his height crashed through the room, followed by several guards and patients, looking much better and watching behind them.

"Jelani! Nia! Are you alright?" The man asked, frantic, and wary of the strange man in the room, with his loved ones.

Jelani gleamed at the man, with tears, and a trembling smile. "Poppa, we're alright. Mom's well again."

Tobi was a little surprised, that the doctor, was her mother, but he surmised a little that she was a relative or someone really important to Jelani. He made way for the man to check on his wife.

As he passed by, Tobi noticed immense stress, wearing the man down, way beyond his years. With grey streaks invading his hair and beard, accompanied with baggy eyes, from sleepless nights.

The man cried out, seeing his wife sleeping soundly, while the nurse confirmed her good health. He turned around and faced Tobi, then looked down at the ground. "First, you have my utmost gratitude, for saving the mother of my child. Second, your resemblance... May I ask..."

Tobi sighed, nodding. "I guess, I should introduce myself. My name is Tobi of Earth, but I also hail from Rennaya, as the son of Zenu and Safiyah." The room went silent, as he uttered those words.

"How?"

"It can't be possible."

"I thought the royal family perished."

Were all the murmurs and whispers echoing across the room. Then there was some outrage and people asking for help.

"Why couldn't you save us."

"What took you guys so long?"

"Please take my child with you."

Tobi was about to speak up, but Jelani's father shut them all down. "Silence!" In an instant, there was pin-drop silence.

The man commanded the respect of the entire room. Then he got down on his knees with his head low.

"I am the Chief of Inami village, Belo. Forgive me, before founding this village in this abandoned bunker, I deserted from the royal army. Running to save the lives of my family. There are many soldiers, like me, who regretted not dying with your father that day. As we watched, him and your mother fight their last battle, on the sky-screens."

Tobi could feel, the amount of guilt, this man was carrying with him. He wanted to try and ease the burden, just a little bit. "Raise your head, Belo, was it?"

He gave the man a heartfelt smile and extended his hand to help him up. "You have long been forgiven. You've done nothing wrong. Instead, you should be rewarded, for keeping the last of our kin alive here, for over two decades."

Tobi, looked around the room, as more people poured in, and some watched through the windows. "I'm sorry I'm late. I was born without the knowledge of my heritage. My brother Osei had been captured by Atlas, until about earlier this year. Now, we're back. We are here to give you a hand and get you out of here. These are not the conditions, any of you should be living in!"

He took a deep breath before continuing. "It won't, be easy and I'll need all of your help. But together, we can change your future."

Cheers of joy and smiles of relief rippled through the room. Tears kept dropping, uncontrollably. Tobi turned back to Belo, who was astounded, by his captivating words. "You are the last prince." The Chief whispered.

Tobi, chuckled, scratching his head. "What's that? Nah, I'm not a prince, just a regular citizen in my world. I even had to work and everything."

Belo shook his head laughing. "A member of the royal family working a regular job. That can't be!"

Tobi laughed slyly, thinking about all the bills that plagued his life, before he met Osei. If only he knew, he was due some gold.

Belo, looked at him, once more, then nodded. "If you have barely heard of your heritage, then I think there is something, you must see. If your brother is here, he must have been too young as well. Call him to meet us."

Tobi was curious about what the man, had in mind, but he did as he was told. Moments later, he, Belo, and Jelani were flying towards the Hallantium, watching Osei, from the opposite end, shoot across the sky towards it.

Belo and Jelani dropped to their knees out of respect when they saw Osei. "At ease, you may rise." He said, smiling at them. It had been some time since he had seen the manners of his people. "So what is all of this about?"

Tobi turned back to the Chief and raised his hand out. "Well..."

Belo nodded, stepping up. "Below the Hallantium, lies the treasure of our people..."

Notes:

HUD stands for a heads-up display.

The Hallantium was the royal palace introduced in Chapter 1. A palace 300 feet tall and built by Messians as a peace offering to commemorate the end of the First Galactic War. It was filled with the treasures, records and achievements of the people.

This chapter marks the beginning of the last arc in Volume 1

Previous | First Chapter | Next

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Blurb: After Piri the nine-tailed fox follows an order from Heaven to destroy a dynasty, she finds herself on trial in Heaven for that very act. Executed by the gods for the “crime,” she is cast into the cycle of reincarnation, starting at the very bottom – as a worm. While she slowly accumulates positive karma and earns reincarnation as higher life forms, she also has to navigate inflexible clerks, bureaucratic corruption, and the whims of the gods themselves. Will Piri ever reincarnate as a fox again? And once she does, will she be content to stay one?

Advance chapters and side content available to Patreon backers!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Table of Contents

Chapter 142: The Perfect Timing

Ah, what fun! What excitement! Lady Piri’s servants really were something! Just when Sphaera thought the mage was done for, the horse charged in to help, and together they defeated the wolf. Imagine that – a human and a horse, taking down a wolf!

“A pound of flesh that the mage survives,” she called at Steelfang.

The big wolf was loping along ten feet away, his tongue lolling out in a satisfied grin. Lady Piri’s mage and horse had just eliminated one of his most rebellious pack members.

“Fresh flesh,” he specified.

“Done.”

Good thing he hadn’t thought it necessary to specify what type of flesh they were betting, because Sphaera hadn’t yet told the others that Lady Piri had forbidden them from eating humans. It was most vexing, and partially defeated the purpose of coming down from the mountains, but Lady Piri’s representative had been firm on that point: No eating humans, not ever again.

“Look at that!” Sphaera pointed, giggling.

Another wolf had just tried to leap onto the platform, but one of Lady Piri’s bears had grabbed his hind legs. Now the wolf was dangling from the edge of the platform by the claws of his front paws while the bear hauled on him from below. On the platform, the humans in the plain robes had fallen into a terrified heap.

“Steelfang! A pound of flesh on the bear!”

Steelfang grimaced, torn between hoping that another of his troublesome pack members would be eliminated, and defending the pride of his wolves.

“What’s ssso funny?” hissed a voice right next to Sphaera.

Haughtily, she turned her head and looked down her nose at the interloper. She met the bulbous yellow eyes of a bright green snake. Oh. It was that bamboo viper, What’s-Her-Name. One of Lady Piri’s representative’s servants. Still, it wouldn’t do to disrespect any of Lady Piri’s underservants.

“Steelfang thought of a hilarious way to get rid of some of his people he doesn’t like. He sent them to attack you.” Sphaera giggled again.

For some reason, though, the snake didn’t join in. “And you think that’s funny?”

Sphaera hastily cut off mid-laugh. “Only if it is pleasing to your honorable mistress,” she assured the underservant.

“Pleasssing? Why would it be pleasssing to her?”

Sphaera was getting worried, and so, by the way Steelfang drifted closer to her litter, was the wolf. “Because…it’s a clever way of getting rid of them…?”

“A ‘clever way of getting rid of them’? You’re not worried they’ll hurt my friends?!”

“Oh….” The thought genuinely had not occurred to Sphaera or, presumably, Steelfang. “But they’re – you’re – all Lady Piri’s vassals, aren’t you? I thought – he thought – she would protect you…?”

“That’s not a good excussse!”

“Oh…. Oh….” Helplessly, Sphaera waved at Steelfang. “Perhaps you should recall them?”

Evidently the wolf had drawn the same conclusion, because he flung back his head and howled into the sky. “AaaaaOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo!”

In the distance, the band of wolves hesitated, then kept attacking.

“You see what I have to deal with?” grumbled Steelfang, before he howled again.

This time, all but one of the wolves reluctantly disengaged, backing up to circle the platform. The last wolf, however, was too busy trying to bite off the horse’s tail. The horse neighed and kicked with his hind legs.

Another commanding howl from Steelfang, and that wolf released the horse. As he slunk resentfully towards the others, the sparrow and the black-necked crane who circled overhead caught his attention, and he leaped straight up at them.

“No!” Sphaera screamed.

“AaaOOOOOOOOO!” bellowed Steelfang.

But the snake drowned both of them out. “No! Bad wolf! Don’t you DARE hurt them! You ssstop that right now or I am COMING for you!”

The words were inane, but the ferocity in her voice flattened Sphaera against her litter. All around her, demons whined and whimpered and cringed. Even Steelfang’s tail tucked in firmly between his legs. In the distance, the rebellious wolf crashed to the ground, rolled over, and presented his belly to the two birds. Lady Piri’s representative landed on it and gave it a hard peck.

Well.

Sphaera supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised, given that this snake, too, was one of Lady Piri’s people.

Never underestimate one of Lady Piri’s people.

When the snake turned back to Sphaera and asked, “Is it time yet? When will it be time?” Sphaera answered in a much more respectful tone.

“It’s not quite time yet, spirit, but it will be soon.”

///

Covered by demon wings, the sky was as black as a winter night. Anthea could see well enough in the dark, but humans had notoriously poor night vision, and Jullie kept tripping over the paving stones.

A raucous scream overhead made both women jump and clutch at each other, but the vulture demon that had been following them since they exited the palace didn’t attack. Instead, he howled with laughter, endlessly pleased that he had succeeded in scaring two helpless women. The big bully.

“Shhh, it’s all right, Bink,” Jullie murmured to the shivering golden monkey that clung to her chest. “I won’t let anything hurt you.”

The monkey stared back at her with wide, terrified eyes and chattered.

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” Jullie continued to soothe him.

It was very much not all right, though. It was not supposed to go this way. There was not supposed to be an attack on the palace. A fake attack on the fringes of the capital, maybe a few casualties among the commoners who lived on the outskirts, yes. But not this. The Queen was never supposed to be in any danger.

Did Piri betray me again? Anthea wondered for the ten-thousandth time. Did I misread her again? But all of our interests aligned! She was so invested in making a success of the Temple! And what could she possibly gain from betraying the Director of Reincarnation himself? No, I read her right. I’m sure I read her right. Which means – did she misread the demons? Did she get betrayed by the demons? PIRI*, of all people?*

Lost in thought, Anthea didn’t notice the root network of a yellow-flame tree until Jullie tripped over it. The hem of the Queen’s heavy silk brocade robes snagged on the wood, and she  stumbled, stubbed her toe on another root, and started to fall forward. She didn’t yelp, of course, but she did gasp and windmill her arms.

Panicking, Bink made a flying leap at the tree and scrambled up into its branches.

“No! Bink, come back!” Jullie cried. “Now!”

Hidden from sight among the leaves, the monkey chattered at her.

The vulture demon screamed in triumph. A gust of wind sent leaves, twigs, and dirt flying at the two women. Jullie hunched over to protect her face, and Anthea shielded her with her own back. Wind whipped her gown. Her gauzy overskirt ripped off and went fluttering into the sky like a lost soul. Great wings flapped down closer and closer.

Bink shrieked.

When Anthea jerked her head up, she saw the demon flying higher, a struggling monkey clutched in his talons.

“No! Wait – !” cried Jullie, running out into the open and stretching up a hand as if she could summon the vulture back.

Anthea yanked her back under the tree, which at least afforded a bit of shelter. “It’s too late. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Jullie.”

“But – ” For a moment, the Queen looked every bit like a lost child. “What have I done? What did I do wrong? I tried so, so hard, but I still lost the throne. I lost the kingdom. The kingdom my ancestors worked so hard to build….” She didn’t weep – that had been drilled out of her long ago – but Anthea could hear the tears in her voice.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she lied, trying to convince herself at the same time.

She had thought, year after year, that conscripting more and more humans and spirits to throw at the Wilds might not have been the wisest move. It might have been better to accept the lost territory as lost, and to focus on consolidating and developing the lands that remained. Maybe she should have said something. She could have said something, before it was too late. But what if she had said something, and everything had turned out worse?

I am not Piri, she had thought. I am not Piri. It had become her mantra over the centuries. Ask herself what Piri would do, and then do the opposite.

Maybe, just maybe, that hadn’t been the wisest strategy either.

“I sent so many people to die,” Jullie whispered. “I killed so many people. Earlier, when the city turned against me, and my uncle wanted me to put down the riot by force, I thought, ‘I can’t start killing non-demons.’ Because if I start killing non-demons, then what was it all for?”

A soft plink on a paving stone startled Anthea. Jullie was crying. The Queen was actually crying.

“Maybe – maybe this is for the best. Maybe I deserve to be the last of my dynasty….”

“No!” Anthea’s denial was instinctive. “You did your best. You tried your hardest. No plan ever goes exactly right.” Not her plans, not Piri’s. Not even Piri’s. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth it to believe, and to try. “You’ll see. It’ll be all right. The Temple will deal with the demons any moment now, and then we can start anew.”

“If they don’t do it soon, they needn’t do it at all. There won’t be a capital left to save.” Jullie’s voice held a lifetime of bitterness from fighting a war that she had finally acknowledged was lost long before she was born.

Anthea didn’t reply out loud, but in her head she screamed at Piri, How is it not time yet? When will it be time?!

///

Hidden under the platform, Flicker suppressed his glow. He couldn’t see through the thick tapestries that concealed his existence, but he could – hear – the sounds outside. The screams. The thuds. The grunts. The – wet burbles.

He gulped, realized that he was leaking light again, and squashed it back under his skin.

This was so much more horrible than he’d imagined when Piri and Stripey had described her plan. All those people, getting hurt right there in front of him, when all he could do was wait.

But he had to wait. Had to get the timing perfect. This plan had to go off without a hitch, or the Director of his bureau would be so furious with him. A star sprite clerk like him, even a second-class clerk, since his promotion, couldn’t afford to have a Director angry at him.

The cries behind him, coming from inside the city, were getting louder, more desperate. People could be dying! What was Piri waiting for?

Is it time yet? he screamed inside his head. Why isn’t it time yet?

///

Giving the wolf demon’s belly a final, emphatic peck, I took off.

As soon as I was off him, he flailed his paws and rocked from side to side like a turtle until he rolled himself back to his feet. Then, his bedraggled tail clamped firmly between his legs, he scrambled away from me and the platform, howling apologies the whole time.

And don’t you dare come back! I shouted after him.

He vanished into the seething mass of demons, intent on getting as far away from me as he could.

Can you see Bobo? I asked Stripey. Did you see what happened to her?

He shook his head. No. But I’m sure she’s all right.

From the way he craned his long neck around, though, I wasn’t sure he believed it himself.

I should go and bring her back. My status as “Lady Piri’s representative” should protect me, even from those crazed demons….

As if reading my thoughts, Stripey warned, Don’t get distracted. You’re in charge here, remember? Everyone’s waiting for your signal.

He was right. This was my plan, my party. Everyone was counting on me to get the timing perfect.

With an inward sigh, I pushed Bobo to the side of my mind and surveyed the “battlefield.” The demon horde surrounded the city on the ground and in the air. Gazelle and serow demons bounded along the top of the city wall, howling challenges at the people below. Eagles dove at the rooftops, raking their claws across the grey tiles. Rubble from falling chimneys crashed onto the streets below. The throng of residents, who had come out to witness the High Priest of the Kitchen God work a miracle, screamed and wailed and attempted to shove one another out of the way so they could flee. The city teetered on the edge of a stampede.

“Is it time yet?!” “Isn’t it time yet?!” Voices, overlapping one another, shrieked at me from both on and around the stage.

It was.

Places, everybody!

“Priests! Form up!” Floridiana bellowed, and they hurried to line up behind Katu, tallest ones in the middle, shortest at the sides.

Lodia gave Katu’s robes one final tug, then clambered onto Miss Caprina’s back. The serow leaped off the stage. At the same time, the butterflies fluttered up to surround Katu’s head and shoulders. In the darkness, you could hardly see them.

“Go, go!” Dusty neighed at the bears, who seized gold-tipped spears in their front paws and took up honor guard positions in front of the stage.

I scanned the scene one final time. It was as perfect as I was going to get. I drew a deep breath. Then I shouted: IT’S TIME!

Katu flung up his arms and roared into the sky, “O Divine Intercessor! Ye who love and watch over us on Earth! Save us from these demons!”

Flicker’s golden light exploded outward.

///

A/N: Thanks to my awesome Patreon backers, Autocharth, BananaBobert, Blacklark57, Celia, Charlotte, Edward, Ike, Lindsey, Michael, quan, Relai, TheLunaticCo, and Anonymous!

Playlist | First Chapter | Character sheets

The Story:

Keeping her store on Earth was supposed to keep her out of trouble, but when a human walks through her wards like they weren't there, Aloe finds herself with a mystery on her hands. Unfortunately for the human, her people love mysteries - and if she doesn't intervene, no one will. With old enemies sniffing around after her new charge, the clock is ticking to find their answers.

-----------------------

“Yes, I know, I’m glad to see you too,” Aloe said absently, refilling one of the grain tubs that sat at the corners of the menagerie. She’d long ago found that too many fights could be avoided just by keeping some snacks available for anyone who got hangry.

A pair of gistlewings flitted around her head as she did so, their hummingbird-like beaks flapping as they screeched at her. Their tiny, pearlescent scales were glowing with affront.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m getting there,” Aloe said, dumping a scoopful of seeds into a canister mounted against the wall. “There. Happy now?”

The two critters zoomed away toward it on wings made of light. Aloe sat back on her heels, chuckling a little at their passage. “Pain in my butt,” she muttered.

Daisy let out a whuff alongside her, and she dropped a hand to the knurl’s head, giving a good rub. “And how’s the leg?” she murmured, crouching alongside the hound to probe. She’d packed on the salve good as soon as she stumbled downstairs, her dreams rather too watery for her liking even through the healthy dose of nightsbane she’d downed. Daisy had taken to the medicine fine, at least, and her leg was now securely wrapped with a white roll of cloth.

She glanced into the knurl’s red eyes as she poked and rubbed, trying to spot any hint of discomfort before it became more than just a hint. Daisy only let out a happy gurgle, her tongue snaking out, and bestowed a sloppy kiss on Aloe’s eye.

Who promptly fell over backward with a muted cry. “D-Daisy! Don’t-”

Claws scraped against the wooden boards underfoot. Aloe looked up.

Rat crossed the shop floor in a streak of affronted white fur. Aloe didn’t even have time to straighten before he launched himself into the air, hitting her shoulder sharp bits-first.

Again, Aloe jerked away, stifling a cry. “Rat, what the hell? What’s-”

She heard the voices, then—the sound of someone calling, laughing. A few someones, and they sounded young. She masked a smile. “Your favorite, eh, Rat?” she murmured. “Kids.”

The pollam only buried its fuzzy little head in the fabric of her sweater, then tucked itself beneath her scarf.

The bells on the door rang. Aloe looked up, tearing her eyes off the furry idiot. “Morning!” she called. “Come on in!”

A head poked around the door, followed by a second. Aloe smiled faintly. Bingo. It was a little erelin boy, alongside a stout dhumir with flaky, shale-like skin. Not exactly her bread and butter clientele, but right now, they’d serve her just as well.

She crossed the shop floor, coming to rest against her counter as the two boys tiptoed into the room. “Sorry to bother you,” the dhumir mumbled, glancing up at her. His eyes were bottomless cobalt, edged with silvery blue around the iris. He elbowed his erelin friend.

To his credit, the second boy gave Aloe a nervous smile to match his friend’s, starting to mumble something of his own. Before he could say anything, Daisy raised her head, ears pricked. Aloe groaned. Rat might be a little bundle of misery around her neck—but Daisy loved kids.

The two shrank back, starting to lose their respective coloring. “A-A knurl?” the erelin boy squeaked. “Sands below, why’s there a-”

“Don’t make me tell your mother how you’ve been talking,” Aloe said, raising an eyebrow. She crouched down alongside Daisy, giving the hound a good scritch behind the ear. “Would you like to say hi?”

She watched with amusement as the two boys’ eyes grew round. “Can we?” the dhumir boy said.

At her nod, the two shared a look, then inched closer, holding out a nervous hand toward the knurl.

All the fear vanished from their faces as Daisy butt-scooted closer, tail thumping behind her, and started fervently bathing each individual finger on the boys’ hands. Their laughter filled the Dancing Dragon.

Aloe stood with a groan, bracing her hands on her hips. Every bone in her spine cracked with the motion. “I’m getting too old for this,” she mumbled.

Wood creaked from farther inside in the dragon. She looked back

Rowen stepped from the hallway, his hair a bit rumpled but eyes brighter than they’d been the night before. At the sight of the two boys playing with Daisy and eagerly eyeing the sunbirds snoozing over their heads, he froze. “U-Uh. Sorry. I’ll-”

“You’re not hurting anyone,” Aloe said. The two boys glanced up at the new voice, and they paused a little when they looked at him. Some weird-looking guy standing around couldn’t put a dent on the excitement of having a real life friendly knurl to play with, though, so they quickly returned to their efforts. Daisy was fully on her back by now, paws curled through the air and tail wagging.

“I guess,” Rowen said. “Sorry. Didn’t realize you’d opened.” He was keeping his voice low—and his demeanor had shifted upon seeing the pair. His back was a little straighter, his chin higher.

Aloe raised an eyebrow, letting it all settle in her mind. “I did,” she said at last, looking back to him. “First morning is always the most important. Everyone always comes looking when they see the place set up and good to go. Have to be ready when they do.”

“S-Should I leave?” Rowen said. “Or do you need help?”

The words Naw, I’m good were right there ready to come out of her mouth, but she hesitated. He’d have to learn sometime—and usually, these village greetings wound up turning into a bit of a mess.

“You don’t have to,” was all she said, glancing over to him. “Like I said. This isn’t your job. You might as well see the sights, go visit the town before-”

“I’m good,” Rowen said. He stepped forward. “What do you need?

She cracked a smile, then gestured toward a narrow door on the wall. “Spare apron should be in there. Maybe you can help with the register until you learn where everything is.”

Rowen nodded, looking pleased, and headed for the closet.

“Are you a merchant?” the erelin boy said, drawing her back to them. He was sitting on the ground by then, stroking his fingers through Daisy’s cream-colored belly fur. She was drooling. Copiously.

Aloe nodded. “I am.”

“Well, I’ve never seen a shop that looks like this,” he said. “You’re weird. What do you do, anyway?”

It took everything she had to keep from rolling her eyes. Elders save me from children and the things they say.

“Animals,” Aloe said, dropping one hand to Daisy’s head and giving the boy a grin. She felt Rat poke his nose out from under her scarf, giving the air a good whiff, but he pulled right back under just as quickly. She chucked. “Do your parents ever brew a fiend-sparked concoction?”

“They’re not very good at it,” the dhummir said, his voice dropping lower.

Aloe snorted before she could stop herself. “Yeah, I hear you, kid,” she murmured. She’d been made to drink more than a couple almost-inedible homebrews when her father had tried to get creative with a mixture. House Miraten had not been gifted with proper chemists.

She looked back up. “I travel the world, meeting all sorts of different animals,” she said. Well, mostly the Windscour region, I suppose. But I do take jaunts. She gestured to the eaves overhead, where critters flitted from rafters to dens faster than she could follow. “Sometimes I meet ones that don’t have a good place to live, or are sick. Sometimes they want to come with me. So they help me, by letting me take all their loose feathers and bits of skin that your father makes you drink every night.”

Her upper lip curled back at the flash of disgust that crossed the boy’s face. “It’s not skin,” he mumbled, picking at one of his ridges.

It almost certainly is. Dried skin was incredibly common as a reagent, usually from some of the deeproads’ reptilian natives, but Aloe kept the thought to herself. She was being a bit mean, she supposed, and she shouldn’t make it harder for the boy’s parents to get him to take his meds.

“I’ll sell your family something special to brew in,” she said, giving the boy a wink. “It’s good for you. Nice strong bones.”

When she broke into a snort, the two followed suit. From the corner of her sight, she could see Rowen tying on one of the worn, faded black aprons she’d retired to the closet. It didn’t fit terribly well over his comparatively-large body, but it’d do until she could find a tailor to stitch something better up.

And she heard the unmistakable clang of the bells as the door swung open. “Hello?” she heard a woman say in ereliit.

If her experience was any indication, she was about to have a lot more guests swinging through. Glancing back to the boys, she turned to the door. She’d just have to-

“Welcome!” Rowen called, offering the newcomers a wide-if-polite smile. His voice had shifted, settling into a practiced, neutral cant, and if the woman speaking a foreign language made him nervous, he was doing a surprisingly good job of hiding it. “If you’d like to take a look around, we’ll be right with you.”

“Not bad,” Aloe whispered, raising an eyebrow. So he’d worked retail before. That did help—and the look he was giving the trio of ladies shuffling through the door was more than a little calculating.

So she sat back on her heels for a second, chewing on it, then glanced down to the two kids. “Tell you what,” she said, arching an eyebrow and looking between them. “I’m sure you’ve got a healer or two in town who might be interested in the sorts of things I’ve got. If you run along and let them know a menagerie-apothecary is visiting in the merchant’s yard, I’ll let you come back and play with Daisy here again.”

As she spoke, she gave Daisy’s head a good shake, so there was no way to misunderstand. The knurl didn’t mind. She leaned into the motion, banging her tail against the floorboards.

And as the two kids grinned up at her, standing, and hurried off toward the door, Aloe smiled to herself. Well, that should get the word out just fine.

With one last look, she turned back to the newcomers, who were inspecting the shelves but also giving Rowen a hard look-over. “Good morning!”she said, striding closer.

It was time to get to work.

—------------------------

Rowen swiped a hand across his brow, eyeing the chaos that had become the Dancing Dragon. It’d all started with those two fey kids Aloe had been entertaining when he came downstairs. And then they went and got friends, and they went and got friends, and, well…needless to say, things had devolved from there.

The normally-quiet air of the Dragon was filled with the sounds of calling voices and idle laughter. The locals milled around the store in groups, poking through the wares. The shop’s critters all seemed to be chill about it, thankfully. There were still a few sunbirds preening up in the rafters, and there was movement from inside some of the barrows, but a fair few of the creatures within poking reach of their new customers had decided to bail. Aloe hadn’t been concerned at the sight of lizards and rodents evacuating through tiny doggy-doors at speed, so he had to assume this was all business as usual for the menagerie.

Closing the cash drawer with a clink, he dropped three coins into the waiting Orran’s hand. “Here you are, sir. Please come again.”

The man muttered something, the words barely audible, and hurried off toward the door.

Rowen watched him go, quivering a little with all the pent-up energy of the day. Aloe had taped a sign to the front door, at least, and hung another from the front of his register. Instructions to speak in English, she’d said, giving him a lopsided grin. And true enough, everyone who’d come into the store had eyed the sign with confusion before begrudgingly switching to the language.

There was no time to sit around and muse on it, though. Aloe was flitting back and forth across the store helping customers find whatever their little hearts desired, and he had a line almost to the door. It was enough for his brain to slot effortlessly back into “rush” mode. He’d never expected working customer service to come so in handy.

But it gave him all the training he needed to give the next man in line a blank smile and a nod. “Good morning! How can I help you?”

He hardly heard the words the man said. They were probably English, although it was hard to tell past the thick Ereliit accent the guy had. Aloe was inking each order’s cost on its paper label, thank God, which meant that he didn’t really need to understand them. He just had to handle the money.

That much he could do.

The man dropped a sack on the table. Something inside rattled as it came to rest on the surface. Rowen gave it a quick glance as he reached for the drawer again. Scales, apparently, from something called a chriki. He’d never seen the term before, so he assumed it wasn’t anything Aloe owned, at least. Something from her commissions? Or was there some sort of back-doors, behind-the-scenes exchange for animal teeth and lizard scales?

Aloe had marked it with a 10 and that big curly C that meant calistons. And…the Orran had handed over a copper-red coin edged with the same symbol, so-

Rowen plucked a pair of coins from the appropriate drawer, dropping them into the man’s hand. “Twenty calistons is your change, sir,” he said, the words coming out fully on automatic. “Thank you! Please come again.”

The doorbells clanged. Rowen looked up—as did Aloe, the poor woman twitching a bit at the sound. More? They hadn’t even got the first batch of shoppers sorted through. Sure, it’d been hard to see when they landed, but the town hadn’t looked like more than a few wooden huts surrounded by farm fields. How exactly were there this many people, and why the hell had they all decided the Dancing Dragon was the place to be?

There was another customer stepping forward, though, a dark-skinned woman with her hands full of feathers. Rowen swallowed a grin, eyeing the brilliant colors—colors that matched the sunbird sire who’d screamed at him not so long ago. The little menace is earning his keep after all, at least.

“Good morning, ma’am,” he said. “That’ll be-”

“O-Oracle?”

The skin on the back of Rowen’s neck prickled. A woman’s voice, raised enough to be faintly audible against the rest of the hubbub. Something about its tone demanded attention.

And she got it. The chaos in the Dragon stilled as half the room turned to look. Rowen did too, of course. The woman he was helping had already started craning her neck, and, well, he couldn’t force her back on task without being rude. Couldn’t do that.

The crowd parted just enough for him to catch sight of a pair of figures—Aloe, standing frozen with an empty sack in hand, showing it to a customer over by the wool drawers. And there was an ereliit woman at the other side of the clearing, just a step or two inside the door. She was gaping at Aloe.

When Aloe didn’t rush to reply, she took a step closer. “It is you, isn’t it, Oracle? You’ve come back.” The title was heavy, reverent—and as she spoke, whispers started to pick up around the edge of the room.

Aloe turned back to the drawer, grabbing a fistful of wool free to stuff into the sack. “I don’t use that title anymore. I’m just here as-”

Another ripple ran through the onlookers. Louder, this time. The woman let out a squeak, bending double at the waist as she dropped into a full bow. A few of the watchers started following suit.

Well, wasn’t this something? Rowen leaned back, eyes flicking between Aloe and the gathered crowd. These people knew her. She’d said she’d summered here a few decades before, yeah. But just because you’d spent a few months hanging around a town didn’t mean they’d treat you like this a whole lifetime later.

When the crowd pressed closer, their expressions growing more fervent, Aloe sighed. Her eyes flitted from face to face, almost…fearful. “Please,” she said. “Stand up.” The villagers exchanged looks, not abandoning their postures—but started to draw back again. Rowen watched Aloe give them all a look. “I’m honored by your memories, but really. That…isn’t why I’m here. I’m just a merchant now.” Her lips curled down ever so slightly. “There’s no need for all this.”

Rowen folded his arms, watching silently as the people filling the Dragon started murmuring with renewed vigor. Another erelin man stepped forward, eyes bright. “Are you here to Speak for us?” he said. “We’d be right glad to hear your voice again.”

The woman he was with gave him a good firm elbow in the side. “Tash!” she hissed. “You know she’s not-”

“I’m retired,” Aloe said, with the sort of blank politeness that implied they all really should’ve known that. A morose smile tugged at her lips. “I’m not here to Speak. I don’t Speak at all anymore. I just have some magical questions I was hoping Master Eswit could help me with, so…” She shrugged, turning back to grab another handful of wool. “I figured I’d make a road trip out here.”

“Oh,” the first woman said. The villagers were starting to shift from foot to foot, no longer quite so confident.

The man identified as ‘Tash’ gave a quick nod, his enthusiasm returning with speed. “He’ll help you,” he said. “He’s unmatched with that sort of thing.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Aloe said dryly. “Now, please-”

“We’ve never forgotten what you did for us,” the first woman said—and her words were echoed with nods around the room. She smiled, then bowed again. “Lanioch remembers, Oracle.”

More bows. Looked like they were all getting in on it now. Aloe’s face had gone pale, and she looked like she was caught between starting to yell, or booking it for a quick escape out the back door. Well. ‘Oracle’, they’d called her. This was about her magic, he reasoned. That whole ‘talk to the universe’ business. She’d said it’d made her family famous. Looked like she hadn’t been joking.

But now she looked like she could use a hand. Rowen took a deep breath, steeling himself. Making a spectacle was not his go-to move, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Reaching a hand out, he knocked a stack of coins over. The metallic clang of them cascading down across the tabletop and onto the floor split the reverent quiet like bagpipes in a church service.

Everyone jumped. Heads swiveled in every direction, and more than a few eyes settled on him.

“Sorry,” Rowen said, holding his hands up with a carefully-sheepish grin. “I’m so sorry, folks. Don’t mind me.”

“Please enjoy your stay in the Dancing Dragon,” Aloe said. She could feel it too, then—the horrible crystallized mood had been shattered. The people staring at her were now milling again, returning to their conversations. “If you’re looking for something in particular, just ask my assistant or I.”

Her eyes darted over to hold Rowen’s for a fleeting moment, a thank-you in their turquoise depths.

Rowen chuckled, ruffling a hand through his hair. His cheeks were pink, he knew. Only the fact it’d been intentional kept him from hurling himself under the counter and out of sight.

For now, he reached for a stack of coins still standing, putting his customer service face back on, and gave the feather-holding woman a professional smile. “My apologies. That’ll be…”

—------------------------

The door swung closed with a clatter of bells.

Rowen sagged against the drawers behind the counter, eyes scanning the room. Surely…there had to be another customer hiding somewhere. Just out of sight behind a stack of boxes, or peering into a barrow.

None. The floor was empty. The morning had drug on for what felt like an eternity, but now, finally, they were alone again.

Raising his head, he eyed Aloe. “Are they gone?”

She was covered in sweat, her hair mussed out of its already-untidy ponytail, but the corners of her eyes crinkled as she grinned back at him. “I think so. That's the morning rush done.”

“What the hell kind of morning rush is that?” Rowen said. “I’ve worked rushes. I didn’t think we’d see one in the middle of fuckin’ Store Brand Middle Earth.”

“It did get pretty busy, didn’t it?” Aloe said, already starting to slide drawers shut and straighten the labels that’d been pulled awry in the madness.

“Just a bit,” Rowen said. “Is it always like that?”

“Sometimes,” Aloe said with a chuckle. “Usually just on the first day, though. People want to come see what all the fuss is about. It’s something new, and new is exciting, Rowen. Towns like this get pretty isolated, especially if they’re too far away from one of the heartgates.”

Rowen grimaced. That…did kind of make sense. “Like a town without a highway.”

“Exactly,” Aloe said. She slowed in her tidying, rubbing at her eyes. Damn it, she still looked tired. How much had she actually slept last night?

Questioning her about it wouldn’t change reality, though, so Rowen quashed the comments he might’ve made. There were other things he kinda needed to ask her about.

“...So,” he said.

Aloe’s hand dropped away. She gave him a look. He knew he was all but bouncing in place, but was he supposed to try and hide it? He was curious. “...Oracle?”

She groaned, wilting. “Of course you’d latch onto that,” she mumbled.

“Was I not supposed to?” Rowen said, raising an eyebrow. He stepped out from behind the counter, though, heading for a pile of palm-sized scales that’d been discarded on a crate. Customers. Didn’t matter how far from home you got, they were messy everywhere. “It was kind of a stand-out, Aloe. That was weird.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me that,” she said. “If they’d just stop with all that Oracle bullshit, I’d be happy as pie.”

“So?” Rowen said, glancing back to her. “What’s the story?”

“There isn’t a story,” Aloe said. “I already told you. I stayed here for a summer, that’s all. Like I said.” She waved a hand through the air. “The mages in House Dilmat wanted to study my family’s bloodline in action. They wanted to see if any parts of it could be augmented into their own casting, or if their bloodline might be compatible with ours.” Her expression softened for a second. She looked down, then shook her head. “I didn’t come to Lanioch much,” she said, her chin rising again. “I was mostly staying in the Emerald Hills shell, so I…” She grimaced. “I figured I’d be safe to come to Lanioch without it becoming a whole spectacle.”

“Oops,” Rowen said, grinning over at her. “Guess that didn’t work out.”

“No, it did not,” Aloe said. “I just didn’t figure they’d remember. It’s been fifty years, damn it.”

“Guess your family is just that famous,” Rowen said.

She snorted, but her expression only darkened. “It’s a giant pain. Because of what we can do, people always assume we’ve got some sort of direct line to the universe. It’s all Oh, Oracle, should I plant barley or rinesweed this season and Should my Yoris marry Nessin or Carrick?” Her eyes rolled. “No one wants to make a goddamn decision on their own if they’ve got the resident expert on fate in town.”

“That sounds miserable,” Rowen said.

“It’s not great,” Aloe said. She looked back to Rowen, and now he could see chagrin there. “It might make things harder from time to time like that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not exactly your fault, though,” Rowen said. He felt like he should be annoyed, considering the multi-hour marathon session they’d just endured, all the people flitting through to stare at both of them—but he couldn’t bring himself to point a finger at her. “Did you ask them to treat you like some sort of local hero?”

“No,” Aloe said. Her lips tightened. “No, I did not.”

“Then it’s their problem, not yours,” Rowen said lightly. “Now come on. They made a mess, and I doubt we’ve got long until the next batch arrives. We’ve got to clean up and re-front everything before then.”

“Nope,” Aloe said.

He stopped, turning back. “What?”

Her eyes twinkled. “Now, I’m sure you’re just thrilled to play shop simulator here for the next four hours, but we’re here for a reason.”

Rowen blinked. “That House Dilmat guy?”

“Just so,” Aloe said. “We’ll need his help to figure you out. He’s up in the shell.”

“Emerald Hills,” Rowen said. “Right?”

“You’ve got it,” Aloe said. “Don’t worry. It’s not a long walk.” She smiled, then untied her apron, throwing it over to pool beneath its hook on the wall. “Keep an eye on the place for us, Daisy!”

The knurl was curled up tight in her bed, thoroughly exhausted from the flood of new butts to sniff, but the tip of her tail started to thump happily.

Aloe gave Rowen one last look, beckoning him to follow as she made for the door.

“Come on. Let’s go get things started.”

Chapter 16

The atmosphere in the orphanage buzzed with excitement on the day before Michael’s birthday. Children stopped him every chance they got to wish him a happy birthday and adoption day. Since Michael would vanish that night, they couldn’t celebrate with him for his actual birthday, leaving a bittersweet tinge to the air.

As Michael entered the common area, he was greeted with enthusiastic cheers and well-wishes from his fellow orphans. Hearing the ruckus, the emperor Stepped into the room, appearing from thin air not far distant from the young birthday boy. Many jumped back at his sudden appearance.

The emperor clapped Michael on the back, “Happy birthday. It occurs tonight. Correct?”

Michael nodded, not trusting his words. A stone had formed in his stomach as he pondered his fate starting the following day. He smiled half-heartedly at all his well-wishers and continued to the counter for his food. Unable to stand the enthusiasm that permeated the air, Michael rushed from the room, the cacophony of cheerful voices echoing in his ears. He strode deep into the heart of the orphanage, where few others dared trod. Once he reached the bottommost room he sat and ate in silence.

Two hours later, the emperor appeared in the room next to the young boy, finding him sitting in the back corner, tray lying next to him. The emperor sat next to him, posture rigid. Together they sat in silence for another half an hour before Michael spoke, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

The emperor opened an eye, then went back to his meditation. “Is there anything I need to say?”

Michael shrugged. He hugged his knees and stared at the solid rock ground. “What if my family doesn’t like me?”

The emperor spoke without opening his eyes, “Then I will take you.”

Michael’s head shot up to stare at the immortal being sitting beside him. “You, you will?”

The emperor turned to face the young boy. “Indeed. I’m not just training you to try and get out of here. Even if you children weren’t here, eventually, I’d find a way. No, I think that it is a shame to let talented magicians, such as yourself, waste away in a damp cellar they call an orphanage. There are some things that I absolutely will not abide under any circumstances, one is abuse to children. If, for any reason, you wish to come with me, you will be allowed to do so, even ignoring the wishes of your adopting family.”

Michael slouched against the wall; a small twitch jerked the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. I’ve been so worried. I’ve never known anything but here, you know?”

“I understand. Once you and I are free from here, we will rescue all the children. You will be free to come with me or find your own paths as you choose.”

“What are you planning to do once you are free from here?”

The emperor’s mind flashed to his palace on Imperial Hill. “I will reclaim what is mine.”

Michael laughed. He thanked the emperor and left the room. He ate lunch with the other kids, talking with them and promising to keep in contact somehow. When time for practice rolled around, Michael was the first in the room, practicing the hardest. He was able to narrow his ability to affect only one person in a group. It was fatiguing on his mind and by the end of practice, his head was splitting with a headache, threatening to worsen into a migraine.

Lana had been practicing since she was well enough to leave her room. Her power, aside from Michael’s, had the most natural to control and use. After only a short time, she was already excelling above the others with her power. She made her way over to Michael, who had a scrunched face and was holding his head.

“Are you alright?”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut even tighter. “My head hurts is all.”

Lana cocked her head and reached a hand toward him. A green aura erupted from her fingers and danced its way into Michael’s forehead. Instantly he relaxed. When she moved her hand away his eyes were open and staring at her.

“That feels so much better. I didn’t know you could help headaches.”

Lana shrugged. “Neither did I.” She giggled a little and turned to leave the room.

“You know, the last healer we had, she was unable to cure headaches. You’re already better than her.”

Lana smiled and skipped from the room.

“What do you mean the last healer?” The emperor asked, making his way toward the lone boy.

“Oh, Darcy, her magic was healing as well. She was here about two months before Lana came. She was the last one adopted before now my turn.”

The emperor scratched his chin. “Does someone with the same power often replace one who is taken?”

Michael’s eyes darted around as he thought. “Do you mean, when I leave, will another with my power come? Yes. That is how it has always worked. Sometimes they come in a few days, sometimes a few months. Sometimes one child is adopted, and his replacement doesn’t come until after the next kid is adopted and their replacement comes. It all depends. But yes, they are always replaced.”

The emperor pondered this latest revelation. He was so deep in thought he didn’t notice when Michael left. In fact, when Michael returned after dinner, the emperor was still in the same spot, staring at the wall.

Michael hesitantly reached a hand out. “Emperor?”

The immortal turned to face Michael. “Will you answer more of my questions?”

Michael shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Excellent.”

They spent several hours talking and discussing what the emperor had been pondering. Michael answered as best he could, however, some things he didn’t know. The emperor discovered that rarely do two children have the same power. When someone with that power leaves, another takes their place within a few months at the latest. Some of the children are naturally more powerful than others, even than the ones they replace.

He discovered that of the few children who died or were injured so badly they were taken away in the middle of the night, a replacement came shortly after. Usually within two to three days. Sometimes, the children didn’t know their own names except for the note left by their side, other times, the children swore their name was different than what the note said. Overall, the entire conversation only served to give the emperor more questions than it answered.

“It’s late and I’ve got to relieve myself. I’ll be right back,” Michael said as he stood.

The emperor nodded, waving his hand as he organized the new questions in his mind. An indiscernible amount of time passed as the emperor found his head dropping and his eyes becoming increasingly harder to keep open. A creeping, deep lethargy seeped into his very bones. All he wished to do was nod off and sleep.

He jerked up. With his heart pushing a surge of adrenaline through him he stood. This was a feeling he had never experienced before, not in his entire immortal lifespan. He had never felt tired. It concerned him how close he was to passing out. The emperor only slept when he decided to, and even then, he never did so out of necessity, only to pass the time. This feeling now creeping over him was unnatural, strange.

He shook the sleep from his muscles and strode from the room. It had been some time since he had last seen Michael. A child lay face down in the corridor, snoring softly. The emperor frowned. He found another five children in a room he passed, all on the floor huddled against one another, deep in sleep. The privy was empty.

The emperor continued down the dark passage until he heard shuffling feet coming from the cafeteria. The emperor used his Imperial Step to appear inside, only to watch as a figure dressed all in black carried a limp Michael through an open section of the wall. As the emperor moved to use his ability again, the wall slid shut, leaving little more than a faint almost invisible crack. The emperor slammed his fist into the spot and was shot across the room.

Out there - Patreon (for all those curious or wanting to support :))

At the Beginning

Adventure Arc - Arc 2

Wilderness Arc - Arc 3

Academy Arc - Arc 4

Nobility Arc - Arc 5

Previously on Leveling up the World...

Back when Dallion had set out into the world, it had taken him over a week to reach Nerosal. Now the trip back to his village had lasted mere minutes. In their attempt to get him on their side, the Order had graciously granted Dallion a large slice of the world, including a substantial part of Wetie province. Among that had also been the territory of his native village.

It seemed that each time Dallion went back, both he and the settlement would change. Now was no exception. Once a collection of crumbling huts, now it had become a massive hub to the south. If it hadn’t been for the war, there was a good chance that satellite settlements could have cropped up all the way up to the fallen south.

You can take if you want to, Giaccia said within his awakening realm. If yours now.

While that was true, Dallion preferred not to. It didn’t matter that Veil had become his subordinate, and it was only a matter of time before Gloria did the same. In his mind, Dherma remained the one place that was always better left alone.

It’s the only way you can guarantee it’ll be safe, the harpsisword guardian reminded.

Sadly, she was right. Although the Order had deserted the monasteries within his domain, towns and cities were a different matter. Dallion didn’t have the numbers of the political backing to follow Tamin’s example and chase out the order from all his cities. Come to think of it, even the emperor hadn’t done that. Only the capital was declared off limits. The provincial capitals had seen no changes.

“Maybe later,” Dallion said, then cast a spell that teleported him directly to the main plaza.

“What the?!” A very shiny town guard reached for his weapon at Dallion’s sudden materialization.

It wasn’t any of the Luro guards Dallion remembered. The Man’s skin seemed paler than was common for the area. No doubt he had come from the far north, doing what anyone lacking options did—go to the frontier.

“Everything’s alright,” Dallion said. His words were filled with enough calm to take down a griffin.

Everyone within earshot paused, looked about confused, as if they had forgotten what they were doing, then went back to their routine as if nothing had happened. As far as they were concerned Dallion was just another tourist coming to see the wonder of the south.

Even the town guard turned to his partner, wondering what he was supposed to do. A sigh from the other—someone Dallion hadn’t seen before either—put an end to the scene. Giving Dallion a glance of apology, the veteran guard continued on, the other hurrying beside him.

That definitely has changed, Dallion thought.

“You’re a lot better than before,” a teenager’s voice said.

The change that Dallion saw over his shoulder was a lot greater than anything he’d witnessed so far. He had a suspicion that the voice might be coming from his kid brother, and he was right… to a certain degree. The child had transformed into a teenager, almost reaching Dallion in height. Given his athletic frame and developed muscles, one might as well call him a man. Comparable to those of a professional swimmer, they didn’t bulge out, but were just enough to let it known that the boy wasn’t foreign to hard work.

“Lin?” Dallion asked, staring at his brother across the plaza.

The boy’s hair was long and straight, going down to the middle of his back. The clothes were well kept adventurer clothes, suggesting that he had spent more than some time in the wilderness.

“You’ve changed a lot,” Dallion said, making his way towards the boy.

“Sorry, big brother,” Linner said as his brother approached. “I can’t hear you from that distance.”

Dallion felt a sudden pain in his stomach. Concentrating, he focused on the boy in an attempt to see his awakened level. No rectangle appeared. Even after all this time, his brother had failed to awaken.

Damn it! Dallion thought.

He was fully aware that awakening was by no means guaranteed. Even nobles weren’t always able to guarantee their offspring would inherit their gifts. Given Dallion’s lineage, he had almost always assumed that sooner or later his brother would gain the gift, as he had. On the other hand, maybe it was better this way. More often than not, late bloomers ended up being otherworlders.

“Lin,” Dallion repeated, louder this time as he got within twenty feet of his brother. “Look at you. You’ve changed a lot. You’re—”

“Just like dad.” The other laughed, rushing forward to tackle his brother in a hug.

From Dallion’s perspective, the action was painfully slow, but he let it happen. For the first time in his life, he got to experience the pain of having non-awakened relatives. The difference between the two was so great that they could as well be considered different species. And yet, despite all that, he could feel the raw emotion of joy coming from the boy.

“You’re not here to kidnap anyone, right?” Linner asked after letting Dallion go.

“Kidnap?”

“Last time you snuck here, you grabbed Veil and rushed off. People are still talking about it.”

“Oh, right.”

No wonder they were still talking. From their point of view, it was a very recent occurrence. For Dallion years had passed.

“You’ll stay this time, right?”

“That’s the plan.” Dallion kept on smiling. He didn’t have the heart to tell him that at present, he was the ruler of the town and a quarter of the world. “Not long, though.”

“Well, at least it’s better than last time.”

“Yeah, better than last time.”

“What level are you now?” Curiosity flowed from Linner like a tidal wave.

“High enough. A bit higher than Veil and Gloria.”

“Oh, did you hear she’s a mother now? Everyone expected it, although I thought that you and her would end up getting together. You were so perfect. Remember back when you had just awakened? You used to sneak out on dates with her and everyone had to pretend they didn’t know. It was so funny.”

That wasn’t at all what Dallion remembered. True, his non-awakened self had had a huge crush on the girl, but that had changed after his awakening. The sneaking about was them going to the awakening shrine to secretly boost their levels.

“What about you?” Dallion asked. “Tried to awaken?”

“Can’t,” Linner replied without any regret. “Mom tried to help me take the first step. Even ask the town cleric, but nothing could be done. It’s just not meant to be.”

“If you want, I can—”

“No.” The boy cut him off. “It’s not meant to be.”

Dallion used his aura vision on the boy once more. His magic threads were thin, as they would be in any non-awakened. Even so, there were a lot fewer of them than there should have been. It was as if the Moons had made it impossible for him to ever awaken.

When I become a Moon, I’ll change that, Dallion thought. The notion had come to him effortlessly, as if it were a natural outcome in the future.

“Mom’s at the monastery and Dad’s tending the fields, but they’ll be back for dinner.”

“Dad still tends the fields?” Dallion sounded surprised. Given the family status, there was no need for their father to do that.

“I know. He says it makes him happy, so everyone lets him do it.”

“And grandpa?”

“He’s… fine.” There was more than a hint of hesitation in Linner’s voice. “He’s become a bit grumpier, but I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you. Come on, let me show you what’s new before dinner!”

If Dallion wanted, he could learn every single detail about the town in less than a second. Yet, there was something charming about being led about like a tourist, so he let his brother go on with it. During the tour, he also got the chance to exchange a few words with many of the local area and item guardians. Apart from his old friends, a lot more had propped up. Some of them were surprised an empath had emerged in the settlement. Others were delighted. Now and again, Dallion even stumbled upon a few banished race guardians, all too eager to learn how he had risen to such heights.

For the first time in a very long while, Dallion felt the innocent excitement he had felt during his first years as an awakened. Compared to the smallness of the world, the town seemed huge, providing surprises behind every corner. That was until it came time for family dinner.

Dallion’s mother was more than overjoyed to see him, her emotions streaming from her almost as much as her tears. While still frail-looking, she had managed to boost her level to the high fifties, possibly making her the most powerful person in Dherma. Her music skill had also reached its cap, but was a lot gentler than Dallions—very similar to Dallion’s grandmother, according to Giaccia.

Internally, Dallion’s father was no different from his wife, although he successfully hid it behind a smile and a nod. If Dallion weren’t able to see his emotions, one might think that he had welcomed him after a few months’ absence.

When it came to Kraisten, though, Linner hadn’t exaggerated. The old man didn’t seem one bit happy to see Dallion return. The way he glared at him made it clear that he suspected Dallion’s current level, and that only made things worse.

“I hear you moved to the imperial capital,” Dallion’s mother said. Apparently, the Order of the Seven Moons had been keeping her well informed. “Is it as beautiful as they say?”

A sudden burst of pain erupted from Kraisten.

“It was beautiful,” Dallion said cautiously. “I’m not there anymore. I moved east.”

“East where?” his father inquired.

“Beyond the forests.” Dallion decided it was better not to tell them that the world was a globe. “The emperor gave me some land.”

“That’s wonderful.” Dallion’s mother held her mouth with both hands, tearing up with pride yet again. “You got to see the emperor himself?”

“Yes.” Dallion instinctively replied. Feeling the anger from his grandfather double, he instantly knew it was a mistake. “Just for a bit.”

“I’m so proud. Now, all you need is to find yourself a good wife. Did you hear that Gloria got married?”

“Yes,” Dallion offered a smile.

“It would—”

“What else did the emperor give you?” Kraisten suddenly interrupted.

Silence filled the room. Dallion’s parents glanced at the village elder, then looked back into their plates. Many would have considered it normal if it wasn’t for the threads of music that had come out from the old man’s mouth and entangled them.

You have music skills as well? Dallion wondered. How come he hadn’t seen that before?

“Well?” His grandfather pressed on.

The normal thing was to laugh it off, but Dallion felt unable to. It wasn’t that the old man had been keeping secrets and lying to him all this time. Rather, it was seeing him use his skills on his own children as if they were nothing that struck a nerve.

“He gave me your old title.” Dallion’s eyes met Kraisten’s. “Along with the entire east.”

“Do you even know my old title?” The old man raised his voice even more. “I warned you to be careful, and you still messed up.”

“At least I learned about my grandmother from him.” It took an extraordinary amount of self-control for Dallion not to respond with his own music skills. “Unlike you, who’s been lying about everything.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know the rules!” Kraisten slammed on the table with his fist.

Dallion’s mother and father remained perfectly still, like statues, unable to react. Strangely enough, the old man’s music had no effect on Linner. The boy sat there, clenching his fists beneath the table, almost praying that everything would blow through. His emotions were so loud that it was obvious that he wanted to break up the argument, but knew that trying to do so would only make things worse.

“Why don’t you tell me now, then?” Dallion found himself incapable of stopping. “I know about it, so you should be able to give me the details.”

“If you had any mind, you’d know not to have anything to do with that jackal!” Kraisten shouted straight at him.

“Just because you were backstabbed by the Order doesn’t mean—”

“Is that what he told you?” The rage was so intense that Dallion felt it slam him with the intensity of a hurricane. “You think you can reason with him? You can’t! Just because there’s a war going on doesn’t put you in the same boat!”

“I’m stronger than the emperor.” Dallion used all of his self-control to keep himself from shouting. “

“You’re only stronger than his illusion!”

​

KRAISTEN SEENE is breaking a Moon vow!

​

A yellow rectangle emerged.

“He constantly sits safely tucked away and has everyone else do his dirty work! Ever wondered why there are so few otherworlders left in this world? Because he made me kill them!”

​

KRAISTEN SEENE is breaking a Moon vow!

​

“The Order of the Twelve Suns was exclusively for us! There used to be thousands until Jeremy had me kill them!”

Jeremy? Dallion wondered. Who the heck is Jeremy?

“And that wasn’t the reason we were banished! It was because I saw through his fakeness!”

​

KRAISTEN SEENE is breaking a Moon vow!

​

Faster than Dallion would have believed possible, his grandfather reached over the table and grabbed his sleeve. This wasn’t the reaction of a single-digit awakened. Only someone with traits over a hundred should have been capable of such a feat.

“The imperial capital never had an emperor! If you really want to see what’s he’s like, find him and—”

​

KRAISTEN SEENE has broken a Moon vow!

KRAISTEN SEENE is removed.

​

Pale yellow glow surrounded the old man. All other colors quickly faded away until nothing more than a blob of yellow light remained. A split second later, that too vanished.

“It would mean a lot if we got to see some grandchildren soon,” Dallion’s mother said.

Dallion looked around the table. Everyone was behaving as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Even his brother was nothing like what he had been during the argument, hiding a chuckle as he glanced between Dallion and their mother. Stranger still, there was no indication at the dinner table that there ever had been a fifth person there.

Did anyone see that? Dallion asked within his realm.

Would have been simpler if you’d just said you were married, one of his echoes replied, effectively answering Dallion’s question.

He was the only witness to what had happened.

Cover Art || <<Previous | Start | Next >> ||

GLOSSARY This links to a post on the free section of my Patreon.
Note: "Book 1" is chapters 1-59, "Book 2" is chapters 60-133, "Book 3", is 134-193, "Book 4" is CH 194-(ongoing)

The next two challenges were huge projects, far larger than they normally gave parties with seven adults, let alone three teens. The general objective was to have a group move through in about a day, but these last two projects were about a day each.

Kazue and Mordecai had good reason to ramp up the challenge, and the value of the rewards given was going to be a little under what they had earned, which would build up a bit of a debt on the dungeon's side. And that in turn will allow some better prizes at the end.

And it was probably going to be the last opportunity to directly gift dungeon-craft items to Fuyuko, as she hadn't accepted a contractor position yet. And some items required a dungeon's touch to craft easily.

The first of the remaining two challenges on this floor was 'just' a jigsaw puzzle, of a map of the entire continent. It was of course huge, and the pieces were not, but that wasn't the hardest part. Every city and place name was on an identical scroll graphic, which Kazue had gone through some effort to standardize the size of through a combination of extra space on short names and writing larger names in smaller text. And the jigsaw piece that was removed for the names was identical for every piece.

Naturally, there had to be a solution to the puzzle, and that solution was to be found in the very, very detailed reference books that gave descriptive clues about all the labeled locations. While Shizoku's general study habits would give her an advantage in searching through the books, her expertise was not in things like geography, and her base knowledge wouldn't be a lot higher than the others. Aia would probably appreciate them hammering in a little more geopolitical knowledge into the stubborn girl's head.

The prizes were straightforward. First, the linked communication rings that each of them had earned in the crystal puzzles were upgraded to include an indication of the direction and the rough distance to both of the other ones, as well as an upgrade to the distance the communication worked. The distance indication was simply the brightness of the representative dot, which hit its minimum at the edge of the communication range, though the direction range worked no matter the distance, so long as they were on the same physical layer of reality.

Second, they were each given a scroll case that was intended to be loaded with blank paper and had built-in wells for ink. When loaded and activated, the case would automatically map the terrain around them to a distance of about 20 feet if set in high detail. At the lowest detail setting, it would map out to about a mile, but this wouldn't catch most buildings let alone their interiors, and no matter what the setting it could only add details that the person the case was keyed to sensed, and mostly this meant vision.

The three teens puzzled over their prizes on the way back to the store in order to curl up again for the night, and the group correctly surmised that Kazue and Mordecai were setting them up to learn how to be a team. While they were doing that, Kazue preserved the giant jigsaw and set it up in a gallery that listed the date, time to complete, their names, and their ages. She also added a transparent layer over the top that overlaid the place names with a blank scroll, so that no one else would have an advantage from their hard work. It was going to be the start of a bonus challenge rather than a regular challenge, but given the ego of some people, seeing the names of three young teens on such a massive piece would entice them to compete.

The final puzzle was a more creative exercise. They encountered an exhibit that explained the concepts of a tarot deck and the ways in which they can be interpreted, and included an example tarot deck using many of the primogen gods, such as Zagaroth for the Emperor, Amirume and Mericume for the Sun and Moon, Danu for the Empress, and Li for the Fool. This also gave an opportunity to demonstrate that when selecting specific figures to fulfill roles in a tarot deck, you based them on the individual role, and not the relations between them, thus Danu being Empress as it had no bearing on Zagaroth being Emperor.

The example deck delved into the fifty-six minor arcana as well, pulling from various pantheons. The dwarven god of brewing was in the cups/water suite, while the dwarven god of smithing was in the wands/fire suite, and so on. Naturally, the elemental lords of earth, fire, water, and wind took up the position of King of their respective suits, while other elemental lords took up the other 'court' positions of queen, knight, and page.

This example tarot set also took up all of the gods that were well-known in this area. This was important because the challenge was to create their own tarot deck as a group, using only deities not currently represented in the sample collection.

They were given all of the art tools they would need to design and create their own cards, and of course, a compilation of all the religious knowledge the dungeon had. There was no specific correct answer, the task was to understand the gods that they studied and chose well enough to be able to choose something that would suit them and develop even crude artwork that was representative.

Kazue helped a little by making sure that there were stencils and such as part of the art supplies. The design was part of the challenge, not the execution of the design.

When they were completed, each of them was given a different but related boon. Fuyuko's holy symbol was enhanced to help keep her obscured from the senses of the undead and other unholy things. Shizoku's holy symbol of Mericume's moon was enchanted to gleam with a hint of true, holy moonlight when brandished to ward off the undead. Derek's was more difficult as he had not dedicated himself to a specific deity yet, and Mordecai manifested his avatar to have a discussion with the boy.

In the end, they gave him a book detailing all the elemental lords and how their various edicts would interact with each other, weaving together a possible customized pantheonic worship that balanced the various elements, along with some guidance on how to construct a suitable holy symbol for the group.

It would be harder than following an individual deity or divinely decreed grouping, but Derek was only looking to find whom to dedicate himself to, and was not looking to become a priest or champion. The bar was much lower for lay followers.

This was not a dedication in itself, it was a possible guide if he chose this route, but there was no need for him to rush into the decision.

In addition to the above, they were each given three non-magical tarot decks: A copy of the original sample, a copy of the one they designed and crafted, and a third one that was their design as executed by Kazue's own artistic skill. They were all high-quality materials, but in the end, they were more for sentimental value than for monetary value.

The teens were happy to collapse into proper beds in the next rest area and recuperate for the next floor. They had been passed by more than a few groups, so they didn't know any of the people they met here. Kazue had kept their section of the library locked to them for the duration of their excursion through the exhibits.

The next floor was the mushroom forest/village. As each group was given their own quest objectives, there was no need to keep separate sections here, and the three of them were able to flex their talents a little more. Between Fuyuko's sense of smell and Derek's ability to sense slight vibrations when he attuned to earth, they were adept at finding anything alive once they were in the right area, and Shizoku was skilled at discerning minute details and differences when they had to find the exact right item or specimen.

It was physically exhausting but clambering through the mushroom forest and occasional deeper caverns or tall cliffs didn't exhaust their minds in quite the same way as the previous floor did. It was also a lot less customized as Kazue let the bunkin and their fellows handle creating and implementing quests, and their hardest challenge was capturing a 'feral' giant polecat without hurting it and bringing it back to the bunkin in charge of training new mounts. The polecat had a great time leading them on a wild chase and playing his part, as for the story of this challenge he wasn't supposed to be sapient.

The rewards were fairly typical for this level; Shizoku got a couple more alchemical recipes and a selection of ingredients unique to this dungeon, while Derek and Fuyuko got a collection of single-use 'token' items. Some of them could transform into various useful but much bulkier items, such as a long ladder or a berry bush that would root into the ground and provide enchanted berries with restorative properties for a day. After that, it would provide normal berries. Others contained emergency spells like one to cause them to float if they started falling from a great height.

Though the rewards were decent for the work, it was still far from easy for the trio and Shizoku was getting quite good at complaining about the torments that Kazue was putting them through, though the other two were less vocal. And while some of the griping was sincere frustration, it also had the sound of stress release and bonding against a common 'foe'. It made Kazue eager with the anticipation of seeing Shizoku's reaction to the next floor.

"Sun and moons sear the woman, I forgot about the stupid river level," swore the tiny white-haired kitsune.

Fuyuko took the initiative to start walking toward the lakeside town waiting for them in the ever-widening tunnel. She hadn't experienced the river level at all, but she had been given a tour so she at least was more familiar with the concept than Derek was. Shizoku trailed last, spending some of her energy on continued grumbling.

Finding lodging wasn't hard, but the inn keep had a message for them. "Mistress Kazue says you three have some special rules. No paying your way across or through anything, you have to work everything out yourself. If you need any training on skills, you can trade labor, skill, or knowledge, but not money or goods except for goods you collect or make from this point forward. This will apply to the next zone as well."

This elicited groans from all of them. "Why is she pushing us this hard? We knew it was going to take a while with only three of us, but this is getting ridiculous." Shizoku said with a scowl.

Derek nodded in agreement, "I mean, I'm kind of having fun too, but this is going to leave me away from home even longer than I realized."

"Well," the inn keep replied, "she's keeping the details a surprise, but she's trying to maximize what is fair to give you as a final reward. And assuming Miss Fuyuko here joins as a contractor, they won't be able to give her rewards like this in the future, so they agreed that they wanted this last chance to provide something nice this way. Also, they figure this would be a nice way to help forge some friendships, seeing as how Miss Fuyuko doesn't really know many people in the area, especially those close to her own age."

Fuyuko looked embarrassed at the blunt assessment but shrugged in acknowledgment of the truth.

Shizoku glanced between the two as her tails lashed and then sighed. "I was going to suggest separate rooms, or maybe me sharing a room with Fuyuko, but now I think that might not be best. Can you set us up with a room with three beds and some privacy for changing?"

That surprised Derek and Fuyuko, who turned to stare at her as they tried to figure out her logic. She rolled her eyes at them, "Look, it's simple. While my training may have included weeks-long excursions with no company but the forest spirit, neither of you really trained like that. Derek's clearly getting a touch homesick without more people he knows nearby, and Fuyuko, eh, I don't know a succinct word, but it's close enough to homesick and you could use some company too. So it's best if we stick together and no one's sleeping alone for now, alright?"

It could often be hard to remember that Shizoku was being guided toward possibly being Aia's heir, but sometimes that education showed itself in unexpected flashes of insight from the prickly thirteen-year-old.

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Chapter 1 with Book Blurb | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter (coming soon)

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She couldn’t move any further than the mountain’s edge or the door to the temple’s caves. When the sun began to set, Janelsa stopped pacing and sat on a stone behind which she hid the night before. The barrier surrounding the temple slowly appeared as the sun fell closer to the eastern mountains. Despite being on the mortal plane, her spirit eyes could see the fluctuating, writhing mass of honeyed smoke that surrounded the temple. Janelsa flicked a pebble from the rock and watched it arc gracefully through the air without stuttering. The evening’s gentle, hot, but not sweltering dry season wind rattled the last flecks of dust from her gray hair. Every few minutes or so she would tilt her head up. Eventually, she undid her bun for the first time in years. She only needed to shake her head two times to let her hair flow behind her. It wasn’t as striking as when it was black, but she knew it would have gone gray at some point. Janelsa ran her hand through it and the knots came undone instantly.

“You got your father’s hair, Janurana.” Janelsa picked at her cuticles.

She got up and paced again. But unlike after she recovered from Brachen’s escape, and went back and forth between the caves where Janurana had fled and back south, her mind was completely empty. Muli was unable to reach her then as thoughts flung back and forth like the most brutal and unwinnable clash of armies. Neither making a good enough point to override the other. Janelsa chuckled at how indecisive she had become from the words of just one smarmy man and an old guru. Even now that she had calmed down, she couldn’t bring herself to think logically. Her head was blank, refusing to work like it was demanding sleep.

She ran her hand down her now fully repaired chest. Even her clothes had reformed. That was something she never understood. Flesh regrew even when you weren’t a spirit. Then again, she never understood why she was a spirit. Northerners she met claimed people became spirits through great deeds or by just wanting to stay among the living, for good or ill. That made sense to her, but then again, she had known many warriors who fought valiantly or heads of houses who cursed her to their dying days. They hadn’t become spirits, so she wondered why was she. Janelsa was fully visible as well and nothing on the mortal plane shuttered to keep up with her actions. Janurana had come into the borderlands a few times, where the border between the spirit plane was much less ossified. Still, she had never gotten the hang of slipping between the planes.

With practice, Janelsa knew she could. The plateau had bowed to her, and nothing could be harder than that.

“Except thinking,” she said aloud, sucking her teeth.

Still, her mind said nothing, so she forced the issue with a bull’s strength. She curled her brow, focusing.

“Janurana needs to die.” She looked back to the rubble. “But… Urgh… Come on. Think.”

“Perhaps your mind needs a rest,” Muli sighed behind her.

“I’ll rest when I’m dead… When she’s dead.”

“Mm-hmm. Janelsa, why do you think I attacked your army at random times?”

She didn’t answer, instead just looking away.

“Because it kept your warriors on edge. They didn’t have a moment to rest, it made them weak and slow. You haven’t stopped focusing and thinking in… How long?”

“Two hundred, ninety-seven years, and four months,” she rattled off and scowled at having forgotten the exact days.

“Exactly. I don’t understand how you haven’t—” Muli stopped himself from saying ‘gone crazy’. “You’ve always been able to focus, especially when the focus made you angry. But now, for the first time in almost three, hundred, years you can take a break.”

Janelsa shot up, throwing a finger in his face. “How can I—”

“Because you realize that right now, killing our little kumari won’t mean anything and there are larger enemies to fight. For the first time in that long you have new information. Your mind has revolted and demanded time to process and change tactics.” Muli leaned in, almost putting his nose on her fingertip.

Janelsa recoiled, then scoffed. “Killing one girl should be easy enough.” She sighed. “A quick objective to not leave an enemy garrison behind your lines.”

“Janelsa, Janurana won’t attack you. You don’t have to try and attack Hegwous directly again. Now, rather than take revenge on them through Janurana, our little kumari, you can kill them yourself, the monsters who did this to you, to her, to me.”

It was too much again and Janelsa felt her mind shut down. Instead, she strolled casually down the built in stone stairs. There were never any like these in her own garden or up to her house.

“Should have made these instead of letting them use that stupid beaten down path.” She scoffed. The stone’s rough tactile comfort calmed her just as the pillows inside did. A bird fluttered by, not skipping at all and Janelsa watched in all its simple, brown beauty. Coming to the edge of the mountain, she enjoyed the reddish expanse of her plateau beyond the borderlands; its flat, occasionally rolling hill, the gaps of canyons, the rises and mesas, the splotches of green with the pocket forests. Every inch of it was hers. Even the sloping borderlands, more green than the plateau in the wet season, paid their ‘don’t invade me’ tax to house Malihabar. But her plateau had a charm she would never forget. It wasn’t that it was hers, more that something which seemed so barren at first glance could hold so much. So many towns and cities, creatures and monsters, people with their own stories and lives scratched out of the dust. Powerful rulers, meek vassals, tales of courage and cowardice all in something so often featureless. Pocket forests somehow seemed to contain as much wonder as the infinitely thicker jungle behind her. Examining the expanse that was once hers, she sighed, being once again at the top of the world, over everything, looking down with each spot, each city, town, each house and person bowing to her and this spot.

“I, can, do it.” Chahua asserted, bracing himself against his walking stick, wheezing.

Janelsa leapt back, but much shorter than she expected. The small burst of energy bounced off her weary mind like an arrow off bronze. She couldn’t even summon the wherewithal to move back or hide, or leave the home of these monks, the one she had attacked. Instead, she just watched them ascend.

“You said that this morning,” Diktala groaned.

“Just let us carry you,” Jura said, coming up behind Chahua to scoop him up.

“No!” He wiggled rather than shove Jura away. “Almost… Still… Sun…” The Light was doing nothing for him.

“At least stop and breathe.” Neesha folded her hands. “Come on, do a mantra with me.”

“I can—”

“You’re gonna pass out again!” Jura scooped him up, making Chahua yelp.

“We’re very proud of you for trying but we’d all like to just get home and—” Neesha and the whole group stopped, rounding the top, seeing Janelsa standing nonplussed directly in their path.

She and the four of them locked eyes. Janelsa’s tattered muga and trailing hair sailed with the wind slowly picking up. She stood alone, her blue and grays making her isolation all the more piercing among the greens of the plants and reddish brown of the rocks. The setting sun glinted off her eyes, but in them, the group couldn’t find a hint of anger or harmful intentions. Neesha and Jura both stole a quick glance to Chahua and Diktala, both northern, to see if this obvious spirit was something they had seen before. But both of them were silent and still.

Chahua’s breath remembered it was wheezing before and broke the silence. “Sh-She’s…”

“Observant,” Janelsa said, she turned to let them pass.

But just as she did, Neesha fired off a pillar of light from her shaking fingers, so Janelsa inadvertently dodged. It still stung, however.

Janelsa didn’t move, and the group noticed.

For half a moment, Janelsa considered how her mind would be made up if she simply let the monks and their magic kill her now. But death didn’t stop her before. She just nodded to their temple instead.

The ascetics didn’t move, except to take some kind of battle stance. Even Chahua did, who slid from Jura’s arms.

“Your form is awful. You wouldn’t last a day under my command.” Janelsa shook her head.

Every monk’s feet shook along with their fingers, each trying to copy the stance Guru Brachen took when sending off spirits before. However, none of them had actually seen Janelsa during the attack, having run away right when Brachen’s barrier fell.

“You are the one who…” Jura began.

“You wouldn’t last half a day under my command.” Janelsa rolled her eyes.

Diktala looked to Chahua, who was focusing his breathing, then to Neesha, who gave a rapid shrug.

“Great spirit.” The young northern man said in northern without dropping his hands. “For what reason do you come here? Er, What reason are you here, stay here? Why are you still here? Great spirit.”

Janelsa didn’t understand a word of it. She had learned some northern in her time but those memories had faded to dust. But rather than berate them further for thinking she knew the language, Janelsa cocked her brow. His due reverence was refreshing.

“Again, please. In southern,” she said.

Diktala blinked in surprise, half expecting an attack. “Um, yes, great spirit.”

Janelsa crossed her arms after he repeated himself. “Been trying to figure that out, boy.”

“Do you want anything to do with us?” Diktala followed up.

She thought about this for a moment. “I suppose not.”

“You’re not gonna kill us?” Jura asked.

“What did I just say?”

“Then why, by the Light, did you attack us??” He exploded, “The door! The whole temple, Guru Brachen’s child!”

“As I told your guru, they were in the way.” She rolled her head along with her eyes as if Brachen would surely have told them about the conversation he had with her.

“Could you, perhaps, move on, great spirit?” Neesha asked, turning slightly to let Janelsa pass.

The display almost amused Janelsa, but her mind asked ‘and go where’, sending her into the same answer lacking spiral as before. Her feet wanted to move, sending her against her daughter as always. Still, they refused to budge and she blurted out, “I don’t know where to go.”

Her sheepish tone smacked into the group, knocking each of them out of their haphazard battle stances. Each exchanged a confused look of dismay like deer being asked by a tiger if it could share in some of the grass.

“Anywhere!” Jura shouted. “Get out of here!”

He raised his hands and launched a beam of Light. Janelsa leapt into a patch of flowers, barely dodging. The attack passed close and singed her cheek which she angrily rubbed as the pedals fluttered around her.

“You disgusting brat!” she screamed.

The ascetics cowered or turned to run, but before the spirit could take revenge, Neesha leapt forward and threw out her arms between them all. Her face was frozen. She stared at nothing as if she were already a corpse, and Janelsa cocked her head again while pausing mid charge.

After patting her head to make sure it was still attached to her body, Neesha quickly turned to their attacker and bowed ninety degrees.

“It seems as if you require help,” she said. “We help all the Light—”

“Oh, shut up!” Jura hauled himself from the dirt since his legs had collapsed. “Are you serious??” He went to blast Janelsa again.

Diktala grabbed his arm. “Guru Brachen and his warrior daughter couldn’t stop her. It would be best not to fight.”

“What?? Four of us, two of them!” Jura held up his fingers.

“One of me, and plenty of chances already to attack as you bicker.” Janelsa checked her nails. “Fine, girl. You want to help, fetch me a nail cleaner or something. Not a stick. I’m no animal.”

Jura’s mouth hung open as Diktala and Neesha bowed dutifully and ran off into the temple, stepping over the broken statue that had crushed Dhanur. When Chahua coughed and clutched his chest, Jura stepped back between him and Janelsa with a furrowed frown.

Janelsa blinked slowly and pursed her lips. Without looking behind her, she held out her hand into which Neesha put Guru Brachen’s personal nail pick. “Thank you, girl.”

“It is Neesha.”

“Your name does no—” Janelsa paused right before cleaning. She turned and bowed one degree. “Neesha, a sweet name.”

“The guru’s own!?” Jura knelt, taking Chahua’s arm over his shoulder.

“Must you continue? Ugh. Fine, boy. Go into your temple. I will not follow. I have had many an opportunity to kill you this day, and I had more to kill your guru when he was weakened and you left him.”

“He told us to leave!”

“I’m sure that thought will help you sleep tonight. Now I suggest you fulfill the teachings of your order and help all those the Light touches,” she waved her hand in front of her face to cast a shadow over it. “Or take your shot.”

Janelsa turned her back to him with a calming breath.

Chahua was able to stand on his own as he had gotten control of his breathing but Jura still held him.

“She could have blocked the path up,” Diktala said, shrugging. “Or waited inside to surprise us.”

Jura sputtered nonsense and Chahua coughed. “Fine!” he yelled and hustled the still recovering ascetic inside, past Janelsa. He wanted to look into her eyes, to let her know he would be watching everything she did, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

Janelsa wouldn’t have seen as her eyes were closed, happy with either outcome he chose. She opened one as Jura ushered Chahua to his bed and went to get the hot ointment that always helped when rubbed on his chest.

“Now that the dissenter is quieted, shall we?” Janelsa flicked her hair back and started cleaning her nails. “Suppose I can get right to the point.”

“Your name would be helpful, great spirit.” Diktala bowed with hands at his side. “You may sit if you like… Do you want to come inside instead?”

“Great spirit?” Neesha leaned in.

Janelsa hadn’t finished her one blink. “Your guru didn’t mention the talk we had? Him and I?”

“No, great spirit. He did not.” Diktala curled his lips.

“I am sure it is only because he was in such a hurry! Much was happening after he rejoined us. Perhaps you would like something to eat? Or drink? Much is different for spirits on our plane, yes?” Neesha looked for Diktala to respond.

“Oh! Of course, great spirit. Neesha is right. I will go and fetch something now!” He nodded, running off.

Neesha reached out after him, not wanting to be left alone, then curled her arm back with an awkward smile. “I’m sure you will enjoy these bits of hospitality. You are a spirit of the south, yes?”

“I had some with your guru.” Janelsa slowly lowered her head. “Only a drink.”

“Oh, um, then I am sure you will like more? No food then?”

“I don’t care!” Jura yelled, unimpressed as Diktala relayed the information about Brachen’s chat with their attacker. “Is that for her??” He pointed to Diktala’s bowl of dried northern fruit with ointment covered hands.

“Guru Brachen would have fed her!” Diktala yelled back, running backwards through the door and spinning on his heel when Jura broke eye contact.

“There you are, great spirit!” Neesha proudly presented her fellow ascetic’s offerings.

She made no attempt to apologize for such a commoner’s fare. Neither did Diktala who first greeted her with such honored reverence.

“He really didn’t talk about me?” Janelsa asked.

“No. Only that you would probably want to chase your daughter.” Neesha wrung her hands. “I’m sorry.”

Janelsa stared at the dried fruit, and a single tear moisturized one.

Diktala snatched them back, half expecting an attack, and both the monks looked to the tear, then each other. Diktala shrugged, having never heard of a spirit crying. As another drop hit the path, Neesha stepped forward.

“Please, what is your name?” She put a hand on Janelsa’s shoulder.

Janelsa did not recoil, she did not collapse, she did not scream. Instead, she shook her head. Brachen didn’t know her name, his disciples didn’t know her name. In the time Janurana spent here, she had never even mentioned the family’s name, the last remnant that needed purged from her legacy. Janelsa simply clenched her eyes to let out three more tears that quickly faded away on the path. “Janelsa. That is my name.”

“Janelsa. A strong name,” Neesha said, putting both hands on both shoulders, then stepping back as Diktala offered her the fruit again.

“Indeed. A beautiful name,” he said.

With a forced smile, Janelsa bowed to both of them, taking the bowl. The first bite may as well have been fresh. In all two hundred and ninety-seven years, Janelsa hadn’t even tried to eat. Sometimes before her death she lamented the time she had to spend eating, sleeping, grooming, and all the trappings of life. How much more she could have gotten done without them made her head swirl. But now, a dried date made her legs almost give out under her. Even though it was preserved and wrinkled, it felt new. The pit crunched between her jagged teeth.

The ascetics almost died of fright when she stopped chewing. Her eyes were wide, but as she realized what happened, Janelsa started to chuckle. That too surprised her, the forgotten sound of her own laughter, but she continued. “Right! They have pits!” She spit it out and showed it to both the stupefied people before her. “Remember??”

“Yes, of course,” Neesha said awkwardly.

“As meat does bones,” Diktala added.

“Oh, ugh! I hate that! Do you hate that? So much peeling and getting your hands dirty. It was always so divine to have the cooks remove the bones before presenting it to me.” She scooped a handful of dates and fed them to herself like a servant would.

“I have found it can get irritating but we can always wipe our hands clean, yes?” Neesha said.

“I suppose so,” Janelsa lamented.

“There is always something we can do, Great Spirit Janelsa.” Diktala nodded along.

Janelsa shook her head, not dismissively, but just to coincide with her sigh. Once again, she looked out over what had been her domain and what had changed. New stone walls far in the distance, marking the towns and cities that had been erected in her absence, the scorched landscape recovering where under her rule it had provided countless treasures, roads she could somewhat remember snaking through forests and hills, it all mocked her at its impermanence. “And what if you don’t see what you can do?”

“I would suggest a light,” Diktala said.

“Funny.” Janelsa meant it. “And what if that light hurts you? What if it only illuminated one’s failures? How helpless we are? What if that darkness hid how everything we have done was pointless?” She kicked a pebble clear off the mountain to its new, unmarked home somewhere in the borderland’s dirt.

“Blocking it out won’t help.” Neesha watched it soar away.

“And why not? It makes questions like these far less frequent. Easier to focus on a fire in the dark without your own torch stealing your attention.”

“Then won’t you trip?”

“That is true.” Diktala seized on that. “It will be much harder to see a pebble or stone in the way, Great Spirit Janelsa.”

“Just Janelsa is fine.” Even before she was a spirit her night vision was as good as any other warriors, but she had clonked her shins on plenty of things when wandering her home at night. “Perhaps I’d rather trip once than stumble the whole way.”

“That doesn’t sound very brave,” Neesha dared to say. She flustered as Janelsa raised one brow, looking over her shoulder. “I, ah, just mean that, well, because you are so brave. Clearly! Yes?”

Diktala parroted “Yes” a few times but contributed nothing.

“Ah, because you—”

Janelsa turned cocking her brow more. “Your Guru has not yet taught you his way with words, I see.” She rubbed her hands where the fragments of the cup he gave her had dug into her flesh.

“It is that you came to our home, our Light sends back spirits, many of them tried and uh—” Neesha cleared her throat to start again. “You were very brave to attack us on your own.”

“Huh.” Janelsa drummed her fingers, then started cleaning them again.

“You are quite smart too.” Diktala stepped forward, offering more food, but Janelsa waved him away. Still, the compliment made her look less annoyed. “You said you saw ways to attack us. You are smart and brave, thus you would want the Light to show you all so you can deal with it all properly.”

“Don’t presume to know me, boy.” She shot him a soft glare, for he wasn’t wrong.

“What is it you saw in the Light that was too much? What was it that you think was pointless?” Neesha asked.

“That those that killed me are still alive and that no one even thinks to talk of me anymore. No one recalls my successes, my name. Even your Guru doesn’t seem to care that we spoke. In another life you would have fallen to your knees in supplications at the mention of me. And now…”

“Jura falls over when you move.” Diktala handed her a starfruit, this one fresh.

Janelsa chuckled again, but it faded. “I chased… my daughter. I’m certain you saw, she’s a fool when it comes to hiding things.” She rolled the fruit between her fingers, feeling it squish. “She’s become a monster, the last fragment of my house. But now, no one even remembers the whole of its existence, and the last fragment is just another stone on the path. Every waking moment for so long…” She wanted to crush the fruit. Yet, her hands just didn’t have the strength. “Every moment wanting her dead, erased, and now… What was the point? Your Guru was right. My accomplishments don’t matter anymore. So what am I supposed to do?” she asked the two young ascetics who were barely as old as Janurana looked.

“Make new accomplishments?” Diktala suggested.

“You have weathered many a monsoon, it seems.” Neesha pointed to Janelsa’s tattered clothes.

“Why thank you for that.”

“No no, Janelsa, I meant that you, of all people, must deserve the Light after it. Um,” Neesha took a moment to think, recalling some advice Brachen had told her about the cave. “Yes. When we struggle through the dark, it is easier every time as we now know where each hole in the path is. As long as we are alive, we can walk it again and again.” She cleared her throat and turned to Diktala. “Are spirits…”

“You can still make new choices,” he jumped in. “And if you do follow the same path, you can make sure you don’t make the same mistake again. You said you chased your daughter, but now you see that is a mistake. It seems like you have made your decision.”

Janelsa rubbed her head. Before she had tried to kill Brachen for insinuating that she shouldn’t kill Janurana and her life was pointless but here a pair of children were telling her the same. She closed her eyes.

“Yes, mother?” Janurana called.

Janelsa snapped up from her desk. The horned helmet of her conquests rattled and her reed wedge fell from her forehead, having been pressed in as she passed out. The drapery of her chambers fluttered with the beaming plateau sun, mimicking the spider’s web she left alone on her balcony that so dutifully kept her room fly free. Her daughter was straight backed, clutching a parasol much too big for her, as dutiful as the spider waiting in her immaculate sari, even with how small she was. But to Janelsa she was always a giant. No child ever looked so huge as your own. And hers twice as thick because of her wild hair. It still had her comb stuck in it where she gave up brushing today.

“What have I told you?” Janelsa pointed with her reed at the comb.

Janurana groaned, rolling her head as Janelsa did to accentuate her eye roll. She stopped half way as her mother raised an eyebrow. “That I must finish what I start.”

“Always. When we are finished here, I want you to comb that tangled mes- The tangles from your hair. Understood, Shzahd?”

“Yes, mother.” Janurana bowed and almost left.

“I called you in here to ask for your help.”

Janurana looked back and forth, then giggled. “Me?”

“Yes, you. If you are to rule when I am gone, it is imperative that—”

“What does imperative mean?”

“What do you say when interrupting me?”

“Excuse me, mother?” Janurana hid her confusion at why her mother could interrupt whoever she wanted.

“Yes, Shzahd?”

“What does imperative mean?”

“It means something is very, very important. So it is imperative that you learn what I do and what is on all those tablets I have you dry.”

“I can’t read yet.”

“You will soon. Now let me finish.”

“Oh. Sorry, mother.”

“I need you to help me with some decisions. Come.” She turned on her chair, beckoning her daughter up. With some help, the heir to house Malihabar ascended the work throne, settling in on her mother’s lap. The weight of her daughter sent a wave of contentment through Janelsa and she wrapped an arm around Janurana. “Look here.” She pointed out the exact words. “This tablet is from house Deuhera, their governor Doivi is mad.”

“Lots of people are mad.”

“They can be. We’re trying to make sure the ones that are mad can’t hurt us. She doesn’t like that I said some of her warriors and builders had to come work for me.”

“Why?”

“Because I need them to help secure the house here. Abbaji is worried I might have to go fight again, not just little fights with northerners.”

“Will Doivi have to fight too?”

“Yes, but I think she might want to fight me.”

“But you always win!” Janurana was mortified.

“I know.” She pushed Muli’s repetitive voice deep down into the recesses of her mind. “So, by taking some of her people, she’ll be less likely to wanna fight me and will need me to help her if the people who I fight try to fight her.”

“That seems smart.”

“The other is from Commander Malindani. Do you remember him?”

“Yes, he’s one of your warriors.” Janurana nodded.

“One of my best. He commands them along with me. He thinks it’s not a good idea to keep Doivi’s warriors and builders here. If she does want to fight me, they’ll know how I made the city stronger since they helped make the walls and such. Or they may leave flaws. Worse, he thinks the warriors might try to sneak in to stab me and him, maybe you.” She squeezed Janurana’s sari.

Her daughter noticed and squeezed her parasol.

Janelsa looked away, she had never told Janurana how close she had come to not waking up during the assassination attempt. It still haunted her just how lucky it was the idiot had said anything before he stabbed her.

As far as Janurana knew when she ran into Janelsa’s chambers at the commotion, a man was dead and that man wanted to kill her mother.

The times Janelsa woke with memories of that night she didn’t remember the assassin’s words or feel his life leaving him, but instead the inconsolable screams of her heir bursting past the guards and around the body. Janurana’s worry was all the answer she needed.

“You’re right. A spear I can see is far less deadly than one behind me. Thank you, Shzahd. Now go. Finish with your hair.” She put her daughter down and gave her a kiss on the forehead, waited a moment, then hugged her around the massive poof of hair that happened to contain her head.

“I love you, mother.” Janurana refused to let go. “Please, send them away.”

Janelsa did that night, foiling the plans of one assassin who took his chances and rushed her as she personally ordered them home.

“Janelsa?” Neesha called.

Janelsa lifted her head. She pawed at her forehead to dislodge her reed stylus again, but only dropped the nail pick.

“I suppose you children are right.” She scoffed and took a bite of starfruit. It was fresh, garnishing the bowl they had brought her. Just as the soma filled her with energy, the crisp pop of the fruit reawakened tastebuds that were practically atrophied. It at least answered one question she never got around to asking a northerner, that being if spirits actually ate anything.

“I am sorry our paths have made us enemies before. Perhaps we may leave here on better terms?” Neesha said and bowed, followed by Diktala, but both stood up when Janelsa said nothing.

She was busy staring out over the borderlands and taking in every scent the wind brought her way, then noticed Muli standing behind them. His smirk was always obvious behind his glorious beard. But now, he simply smiled and it was near imperceptible. More than he had in the past three hundred years, he stared into her eyes. It made Janelsa crack a smile back. The muscles in her face ached from the single effort, and the father of her heir bowed so deeply that he disappeared behind the young ascetics.

“Light Lost, stupid—” Jura tripped over Janurana’s ax. He was tossing the broken stones and bits of statue from Janelsa’s attack out towards the door and hadn’t noticed it buried under the rubble.

“Jura!” Neesha turned, about to run, but bowed again. “Excuse me, Janelsa.”

Janelsa waved her off even though Neesha didn’t wait to be given leave, which made the conqueror of the south cock her brow. Regardless, she took another bite of her fruit and chuckled as she spit out a seed. “What hospitality. Can’t even pit your dates or seed your fruit?”

“Apologies, Great Spirit. Please, forgive our mistake there.” Diktala put his hands to his side and bowed.

“Suppose I can for now.” Janelsa looked past him at Jura and Neesha, who was scolding her larger comrade for scuffing the floor with the stones he tossed, then settled her eyes on Janurana’s ax.

“Uhm, Janelsa? Great spirit? Is something wrong?” Diktala jogged after her as she pushed right past him.

“It’s just rock! Who cares??” Jura launched a stone right into the ground. It broke and a piece plinked Neesha in her arm.

“Ow! Calm yourself!” She pushed him.

He reciprocated. “The spirit who broke our walls gets fruit but I get a push?!” He was bowled right out of the way as Janelsa stormed between the arguing couple.

Jura stumbled back and tripped over a statue arm, then took aim.

“Wait! Don’t!” Neesha leapt forward and grabbed his arm, struggling to hold him down until Diktala joined. Even still, he wrested the pair off him. But rather than face some rampaging spirit, he only watched as Janelsa went to one knee in front of her double-headed ax.

For a moment, Janelsa hesitated picking it up, and looked it over instead. She ran her gaze over the polished, yet now dented and repaired head. The sharpening scrapes were deliberate, practiced, and a bit sloppy, as if done by skilled hands that weren’t used to this weapon. The leather was oiled, but could use another dose. The wood even had proper treatment. She grazed her finger tips over the shaft, then along the bronze. One side of the ax heads was brighter than the other, indicating it was probably a replacement. Still leaving it on the ground, she rolled it over to inspect the other side. There were two long scratches down the center that couldn’t have been sanded away being so deep. She picked at them, finding flecks of resin that had filled it at some point but was never replaced once it fell out.

In a flash Janelsa snatched it up and leapt to her feet. She spun it to and fro, mock slashing, hacking through invisible shields, cracking the nonexistent spears that jabbed at her from all sides. She brought it to her side and slid it onto a belt holder that wasn’t there either. Before it could clatter to the ground, she fumbled it back into her hands.

“Feels… Right,” Janelsa whispered to herself.

She narrowed her eyes and peeled away at the leather ties on the grip. Her longer, sharper nails made it both easier and more difficult. She could slice through them, but she tried to pick them open naturally. When the first two tries didn’t work, she huffed and just cut one to roll the grip down to the second tie. A few more scratches were exposed and Janelsa ran her finger over them. One was clearly a blocked puncturing strike, almost like a fang. It lined up with a hole in the grip. The other two were much more weathered, covered in other scuffs and discoloration. Any semblance of what originally made them was long gone.

“Right where…” Janelsa blinked.

She spun around, eyes narrowed and mumbling to herself, and looked past the four young ascetics crowded together. They were eyeing her intently, half holding Jura, half waiting for Janelsa to make a move.

“Excuse me, children,” she said and briskly marched through them.

Janelsa slipped the ax into her muga’s sash which assuaged enough of the monks’ fears for them to step aside. The wind was still blowing as she exited the temple and stormed up to the edge of the cliff. Again, she surveyed the borderlands, following each canyon she saw, marking each ruined town or bridge. She scanned south to the plateau and focused as best she could on the specks in the distance. A few scorched or ruined southern towns were just as obscure as the patches of pocket forest. But she focused on the Capital. Janelsa had heard that gwomoni eyes were much stronger once, and she snarled at her daughter being able to see her coming like a hawk spying their prey. But the capital’s mudbrick walls and white-walled Keep gleamed in the distance enough that anyone could spot it if they squinted. The hill on which the keep sat was almost completely obscured by the city’s defenses, and Janelsa tried to look beyond both rings to see only the hill and Keep.

She pointed with her ax, not even noticing that she pulled it out, and ran a line from the capital, to her spot.

“No… Did she…” Janelsa turned and blinked at the jungle wall behind the mountain. “No. Did she just make a circle home?”

PART ONE THOUSAND AND TWO

[Previous Chapter] [The Beginning] [Patreon+2]

Sunday

Apart from Lucas (and maybe Daniel; the jury was still out on that one), I have always distrusted law enforcement. It went all the way back to when I was growing up with Grandpa, and they would harass us constantly, citing things that we couldn’t prove were lies to force us to move our harmless little pop-up stall from the more prominent thoroughfare. (To this day, I still feel what we were doing back then was no different to a kid selling lemonade on the sidewalk, and no one asked them for licences or permits, did they?)

During my time at Greenpeace, they always sided with the corporations and governments we opposed, making out we were the troublemakers when all we were doing was trying to keep the planet habitable.

It took me a little while to trust Lucas, but something in me insisted I stay with the guys despite my apprehension. At the time, I thought it was the cheap rent and how we all gelled despite the presence of that silver badge. Now, I have to wonder if it was the divine link between me and Robbie refusing to let my mortal fear dictate my actions.

It was an interesting dilemma for another time.

Initially, only two cops in uniform showed up. But with so many unconscious, the number swelled to include a detective. This guy fell firmly into the wank-stain category that I originally held for all police.

Having Geraldine in my lap helped when the guy I mentally labelled Detective Douchebag kept pushing for answers I wasn’t prepared to give him. Maybe I rubbed him the wrong way, too, since he wanted Geraldine to go off with his partner to give her statement away from me, and Mr Portsmith—Tuck vetoed that idea until his lawyers turned up. We were all sticking together. We weren’t aligning our stories or anything – we were simply waiting for legal counsel. The only thing Mr Portsmith told us to do was hand over our IDs, which we did.

It was about three quarters of an hour after everything went to hell, and the four guards that Kulon had first taken out were upright and had Mr Portsmith surrounded with Donald at the lead. They watched Kulon warily but otherwise maintained their icy demeanour. The injured guy had long since been taken by the paramedics.

Personally, I didn’t care how much huffing and puffing the detective did. Gerry and I had done nothing wrong, and so long as I held onto that thought, he could go to hell. Actually, he really literally could go to hell … especially now that I knew people who knew the guy in charge down there. The realisation made me grin, and of course, douchebag took it the wrong way.

“Do you think this is funny?!” he demanded, trying to tower over me from three feet away, which was as close as Kulon would let him get.

I sighed and went back to staring at him. I was the one who was assaulted, and I’d retaliated with one kick. One. Self-defence was a thing, and for once, the law was on my side, even if this jerk wasn’t.

I was surprised when Daniel strode through the door like he owned the place a few minutes later. I’d lived in the city for years, and to see him now twice in as many days was weird.

The detective interviewing me must’ve felt the shift in the air, for he straightened and turned, the shock on his face evident. “Nascerdios. What the hell are you doing here?”

I tried not to smile at my cousin, which was a good thing because Daniel’s glare before he refocused on Detective Douchebag should’ve incinerated me. Right. He’s in cop mode, I reminded myself, fighting the desire to roll my eyes.

My vision widened when he slipped his left hand through his two-toned gold family bracelet and gripped it in his palm. Talk quick, Sam. What the hell happened here?

The words flashed through my mind like I had thought them using his voice. In the past, I’d had conversations like this with his mother, but because he was right in front of me, I instinctively cleared my throat.

No! Think the words as if you want me to hear them. The way you’ve talked to Mom.

Oh … um, okay. It was weird to be having this conversation while I could see he was wholly absorbed by what the detective was telling him. Typically, when I communicated with Lady Col like this, she was somewhere else in the world, and I could treat our conversation like a phone call.

I doubted if I would ever be able to convincingly multi-task like that.

I quickly ran him through the basics: how Geraldine’s dad, Tucker Portsmith, didn’t think the true gryps were up to protecting me even though he knew who Dad really was and how he and his bodyguard Donald set this trap to prove themselves right. I also explained how everything had gone according to plan, right up until I was tasered in what would’ve been my back if I hadn’t spun around at the last second and caught it in the chest.

The next bit had been hard to admit, and I took a second to gather my courage before explaining how I heard Geraldine scream as I fell to the ground, and in pure instinct, I kicked out at the jerk who had grabbed her. Divinely. After that, Kulon took care of everything else, mopping up everyone in two seconds flat. At that stage, he’d stopped pretending to be human. We both kinda had.

Neither of us was playing once they grabbed Gerry.

I ended with Geraldine invoking the veil phrase to protect us all.

Daniel ground his teeth as he slid his bracelet back on. Then he went over to where Tucker stood with his guards and looked him squarely in the eye. “You’re an idiot,” he said, with more feeling than I thought possible. "What did you seriously think was going to happen when your man pulled a weapon on a Nascerdios bodyguard?”

“Not this!” Tucker shouted back, waving at the remaining unconscious guards who were being monitored by twice as many paramedics.

“Nascerdios, what’s going on?”

Daniel ignored the detective and instead turned to Kulon (and I have to say, I felt kinda good about that). “Everything you did here was non-lethal, yes?” he asked, searching Kulon’s face for confirmation.

Kulon nodded once without speaking.

The detective grabbed Daniel’s bicep. “Nascerdios, how do you know these people?”

“I know that bodyguard,” he said, lifting his chin at Kulon. “He works for the family. The threat to the kids must be severe if the family have issued him with his own guard. None of the others have one.”

Wow, that stung. Way to make me feel like crap.

Detective Douchebag swung around to me, searching my right hand for the family ring that I deliberately kept set as a plain gold band.

“I’m a Willcott,” I insisted, pointing out the obvious. “It’s a distant connection.”

“Blood is blood,” Daniel argued, though his gaze skewered Tucker. “And if you knew about that connection, you should never have challenged his guard. That’s what happened here, right? You saw one man protecting two people and decided to test his mettle against all of yours.” He waved his hand to incorporate the room around us. “How’d that work out for you, Mister Portsmith?”

“Wait … are you saying HE did all of this by himself?” Detective Douchebag shouted, pointing at Kulon.

You should be a detective, I quipped in my own head.

“All except the one injured, I would say yes.” He met Kulon’s eyes. “Yes?”

Again, Kulon nodded. Once.

“Does he speak at all?” the other detective asked.

“Not a lot,” Daniel answered, and I had to dig deep to not react to that. “None of them do. It adds to their intimidation factor.”

“I can see that.”

Realising Daniel was serious … that he genuinely believed that of the true gryps, I was incensed. What the hell do you mean they don’t talk?! In what universe? Kulon and the guys spoke to us all the time. Sometimes, we’d argued, and sometimes, we laughed, but overall, they’d been more like friends than impersonal guards. They’d even loaned me their magic card on occasion, offered advice when I didn’t want it, and stayed with us as friends after their shifts ended, even though they didn’t have to. Kulon’s not even the one on guard duty, you jerk! Rubin is!

Geraldine squirmed on my lap a little more than normal, and I broke my glare with Daniel to focus on her. “What’s wrong, angel?”

Gerry looked as if she’d rather have a root canal than answer, but I wasn’t giving her a choice. Especially when I had a fair idea, and it wasn’t going to go away.

“What’s wrong?” I repeated, dropping my tone marginally to let her know I wasn’t fooling around.

“I need to pee,” she whispered so quietly that I barely heard her.

Ordinarily, I’d push for a more vocal answer, but things were stressful enough as it was. I lifted my head and let out a chirp-like whistle to gain Daniel’s attention, and once I had it, I flicked my eyes to Geraldine. “We need to use the restroom.”

Daniel looked at the douche, who nodded and gestured for an officer to accompany us. It took me a second to realise why. They still hadn’t taken our official statements, so they had to make sure we didn’t align our stories.

One of the hotel staff showed us where the bathrooms were, and I asked Kulon to go in with her without mentioning Rubin was still with me.

“How did that guy in the hallway get hurt?” the uniformed officer asked me once she thought we were alone.

“I’m not entirely sure,” I answered since she was being nice and asking me instead of barking out demands like Detective Douchebag. “One of his guys hit me with a taser, and another grabbed Gerry hard enough to make her scream. Somehow, with the taser still on me, I managed to kick jerk number two off her and sent him sailing. Mister Portsmith says he’s heard about people getting crazy amounts of strength in situations like that, but that’s really all I know.”

“You were hit with a taser and still managed to act?”

“Re- act would be more appropriate. I think I’d have to be dead at the bottom of the sea to not fight to help Gerry if she’s in trouble.”

The cop snorted with a grin. “I don’t suppose you have an older brother who’s single? Asking for a friend, of course.”

The image of Fisk appeared in my mind’s eye, and I chuckled evilly. "One,” I said, picturing his outrage at being roped into our conversation like this. “But he’s based in China, so I think geographically, probably not.”

“That’s a shame. One can never have enough protective people in one's life. Take Mister Portsmith. That’s an awful lot of security guards for one man living alone, don’t you think?”

“Meh,” I shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to ask him. He’s an important man in the tech world. Government contracts and that sort of thing. I was bringing Gerry over for a visit because he called this morning and said he wanted to talk to her.”

“You and Gerry live together?”

I nodded. “At my dad’s place in So-Ho. She moved in with me a couple of weeks ago…” I stopped at that, not wanting to go into the why with this police officer.

“Do you think her father’s happy with that move?”

I shrugged. “He was tied up at work a lot, and at the time, I didn’t see him. I have to assume so since he hasn’t said anything bad about it since.”

“So he invited you over to talk, and instead, you and your guard were ambushed with a mock attack? That has to suck.”

I shook my head, for she was screwing up the narrative to make Mr Portsmith look bad. “No. We were sitting down for breakfast when an argument broke out over their belief that we needed more protection than Kulon. It got heated, and he wanted me to prove my position. Tucker’s bodyguard organised the exercise with the rest of their detail. All we had to do was repel their advances.”

“Then how did two get close enough to taser you and grab Miss Portsmith?”

I huffed. “Donald, that dick, pulled in two extras that we didn’t know about for a surprise element.”

“Do you think they might’ve also wanted to prove you incapable of defending Miss Portsmith in the hopes that it would encourage her to move back home with him?”

I hadn’t really thought about it like that. And after internalising and discussing the matter with a lot of friends and family, we were all in agreement that it had been a spontaneous thing based on the heated exchange over breakfast. “Nah,” I said as soon as I returned to the physical realm. “He was genuinely scared for her wellbeing and wanted her to have more security. When I told him we wouldn’t be getting anyone else and then said he couldn’t send his people in to live with us either, that’s when it blew up.”

“I can understand his concern. Speaking of concern, why is he so concerned for his daughter’s well-being?” At my squint, she went on. "I mean, an important man like Mister Portsmith needs a security detail, but why would he think that level of protection was necessary for his daughter? Has there been a threat to her life or something?”

Again, I shook my head. “No. Nothing like that that I know of.”

She was about to ask something else when the bathroom door opened, and Geraldine came out. “All good, angel?” I asked, holding my hand out for her.

Geraldine glanced at the female officer as she took my hand and snuggled into my side, nodding shyly. “Excellent.”

We were escorted back into the conference room.

“Hey, if that brother of yours ever turns up in the country, would you give him my number?” the officer asked.

“I don’t even have your number,” I said laughingly.

Without batting an eye, she pulled out her pen and a business card of some type from her front pocket, flipped it over, and scribbled something on the back. “Here,” she said, handing me the card. It had her last name, badge ID number, 17th Precinct on one side, and a phone number in pen on the back. I knew it was an ID card because Lucas carried them, too. “You can call me too if you think of anything else.”

Fisk would kill me before calling this woman for a blind date, but what surprised me was as soon as her back was turned, Gerry plucked her card out of my hand and stuffed it forcefully into her own pocket. “Angel?” I whispered, and she placed a silencing finger against her lips and glared at the officer.

I guess I’ll find out what that’s all about later.

* * *

((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))

I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here

For more of my work, including WPs: r/Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.

FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!

Two years ago, Corey Vash got abducted by aliens, and a few months after that, he saved the universe -even if it was mostly on accident. Thanks to the skills of his new bounty hunter friends and no small amount of luck, Corey Vash saved the day, but hero status isn’t all its cracked up to be. The parades and the free drinks are over, leaving the bounty hunters with nothing but the expectations of a frightened universe and the overbearing attention of governments who want picture perfect heroes the only mostly sober crew aren’t cut out to be. With the shadow of another invasion still looming, a murderous new threat starts to stalk their every move, forcing Corey and the crew of the Wild Card Wanderer to move past the mess of bullets, booze, and blind luck that’s kept them alive and become actual heroes -even if they aren’t very good at it.

[First Book][Previous Chapter][Cover Art][Patreon]

“I’d almost rather do the billionaire parties,” Tooley spat. “Lobie Lopeck or whoever didn’t make us complicit in a planetary scale lie.”

“Only because he didn’t think of it,” Kamak said.

“And if he’d done it, it wouldn’t be a good lie either,” Corey said. “Honestly, they kind of do have a point about the peace of mind thing.”

“Perhaps, but they should not have dragged us into endorsing it,” Farsus said.

“Let’s just hope they’re right, and the defenses never get tested,” Doprel said. “And let’s also hope we get a real job next time.”

“Oh for- now you’re on my case too?” Kamak said. “You’re practically a pacifist!”

“I don’t like hurting ordinary people,” Doprel said. “I love squishing bad guys. Do you know how satisfying it is to pick up someone objectively terrible like a slaver or a murderer and squish their head into paste?”

Doprel mimicked the motion of squishing a skull, and deeply unsettled everyone near him.

“Alright, now we definitely need a real job,” Kamak said. “Doprel’s going stir-crazy.”

“You’re the guy who gets jobs,” Tooley said. “Get us a job.”

Kamak tabbed through his datapad and found his communiques clogged with everything except real jobs. Everyone who wanted to contact him nowadays wanted assassinations, special appearances, or sponsorships. Kamak hated the sponsorships most of all. He had done exactly one advertisement, for the tailor who made their armor, reasoning the amount of bullets the armor had stopped deserved endorsement, but he regretted it. Now everybody wanted him and the crew to sell everything from sandwiches to sex toys.

“Well this is useless, unless anyone feels like endorsing a vibrator.”

“Is it a good vibrator?”

“I’d have no way of knowing, Tooley, I don’t do that whole ‘sex’ thing,” Kamak said.

“You don’t do the whole ‘thinking’ thing either, doesn’t stop you from having an opinion on everyone else’s ideas.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tooley.”

“Find me a job, Kamak.”

“I’m working on it,” Kamak said, as he tabbed through dozens more useless requests. He managed to keep up the scrolling for about a drop before giving up. “Fuck this. Tooley, take us to Centerpoint, I want to talk to Quid personally.”

The demand for the crew’s services had become so large that they had their own personal Bounty Hunter’s Guild liaison, who was apparently not doing a very good job of it. Kamak had yelled at him about it over comms more than once -now it was time for a good old-fashioned face to face thrashing.

“Fine by me,” Tooley said. “All my fav- Gah! All my favorite bars are on Centerpoint!”

Tooley took her hands off the controls long enough to plant her face firmly in them and let out a loud groan.

“You’re not even going sober, dipshit, you’re just drinking less,” Kamak said.

“It still sucks,” Tooley moaned.

“And you’re not helping anything,” Corey scolded. “Frankly, you should consider cutting back too.”

“Nah. I don’t have anything to worry about.”

“You’re not even a little worried you might be an alcoholic?”

“No, I can’t be.”

“The first step is admitting you have a problem, Kamak,” Corey said.

“I believe you misunderstood,” Farsus said. “He literally cannot be an alcoholic. Gentanians do not have the necessary brain chemistry to form addictive behaviors.”

Corey did not believe that claim at first glance, but considering how smug Kamak looked, it had to be true.

“That’s just not fair,” Corey said.

“Sorry about your shitty brains, kids,” Kamak said. He cracked open a bottle of shiiv and took a swig of a drink he had no chance of getting addicted to.

“This is bullshit. Gentanians are bullshit,” Corey said. “You live for four-hundred years and you can’t get addicted to anything? You have any other superpowers I should know about?”

“I don’t know, all this stuff is just normal to me,” Kamak said. “I don’t know all the frailties of your inferior biology.”

“Those are all the major differences that I am aware of,” Farsus said. “If it helps, the Gentanian people do also have their inadequacies. They are entirely incapable of processing lactose, even with dietary aids.”

“That’s not a problem,” Kamak said. “You people are the freaks for drinking another animal’s milk.”

“I’d still kind of prefer to live for four centuries, but I’ll take it,” Corey said. “Tooley, you want to grab some ice cream when we get to Centerpoint?”

“Sounds good,” Tooley said. She didn’t usually go for sweets, but the fact that it’d spite Kamak would make everything that much more delicious.

Out there - Patreon (for all those curious or wanting to support :))

At the Beginning

Adventure Arc - Arc 2

Wilderness Arc - Arc 3

Academy Arc - Arc 4

Nobility Arc - Arc 5

Previously on Leveling up the World...

Book 7 will be available on Amazon and Kindle! :D

You keep using too much magic, Onda criticized, though in a far softer manner than usual.

Ever since Dallion had defeated Giaccia in combat and effectively become ruler of a quarter of the world, the hammer guardian had shown him a lot more respect.

Half as much would have worked, he added.

“It’s not wasted,” Dallion said, completing the frame of his crossbow.

With the imperial ceremony over, he and Eury had rushed back to his capital as quickly as possible. The only person who had been faster was Pan. The copyette hadn’t even waited for it to start, using a long range teleportation spell to vanish the moment the tide of the fight had decisively turned in their favor.

Since then, Dallion had taken the opportunity to spend some personal time—divided between Euryale and crafting—while delegating everything else to his closest friends.

​

SPHERE ITEM CREATED - CRESCENT CROSSBOW

​

A rectangle emerged. Although all the fragments were yet to be physically connected, the magic threads holding them together fulfilled the requirements of making this a whole item.

After all this time, Dallion had finally created a magic origami item he was pleased with. The knowledge obtained in the grant citadel had proven quite useful, though also caused a feeling of unease to linger within him. This was only a fraction of what the archbishop knew.

As Dallion tightened the magic threads, the elements of the crossbow snapped together, fully completing the weapon. It was massive—larger than him in height, capable of shooting four spear-sized bolts in one go. It also had multiple integrated spells, making it capable of shrinking to the size of a flashlight.

“It’s ready, Lux,” Dallion said, wiping off the sweat from his forehead. “What do you think?”

Threads of blue light emerged all over the crossbow. Even at Dallion’s level, creating it had proved tiring. Apart from the weapon itself, he had also integrated the caleidervisto within the item.

Thanks, boss! the firebird chirped from within his realm. There’s lots of space!

Coming from Lux, that was a high compliment, although the familiar would have found something positive to say no matter the case.

“Have fun getting used to it,” Dallion went back to the bellows. “Don’t break anything.”

The crossbow rose up in the air. Multiple segments bent into itself until they took the form of a bladebow, which then flew out of the window.

“That’s Lux for you,” Pan said from the corner of the forge, still in his human merchant form. “Make him a masterpiece that could take any shape and he instantly transforms it into a toy.”

“It’s his home.” Dallion cast a spell on the furnace to bring up the heat, then went to gather a new set of metal ingots.

“I caught two more. I think that’s all of them.”

“That’s what you said yesterday.”

“And I was right. These are new ones. I think they came in with the wind as leaves or blades of grass.”

“I’ll talk to Veil about it.”

“Already done. He’ll try following a new pattern.”

Dallion nodded. One of the things he had picked up from the archbishop was how to make settlements invisible. It wasn’t about the spells, but making sure that the city didn’t remain on a single slop. Since then, the overseer had been given the cumbersome task of moving Alliance up and down the eastern coast.

“Were things like this when you tried to take over the world?” Dallion gathered a generous amount of sun gold ingots along with a bit of Moon platinum. There was a time when he’d struggle to get enough metals of any type. Now, scarcity was no issue.

The faint emotions that emanated from the copyette abruptly ceased.

“I can’t tell you that,” he said.

“I’m not asking what you did. Rather how you felt.”

“And I thought you’d ask something difficult.” Pan sighed, then made his way next to Dallion.

The pile of sun gold seemed rather large, prompting him to take one from it.

“Things were very different when I had my go,” the copyett tossed the ingot in the air, quickly catching it again. “No one had done it before, which made it a lot easier at the start and a lot more difficult further on. To be honest, I was more afraid of my allies than my enemies. I was convinced that there was no outer force that could stop me, so I shifted my focus within the empire. After that…” He waved his hand, still holding the ingot. “Well, you know how it ended.”

“Just like Tamin,” Dallion remarked, causing the selected pieces of metal to levitate. Initially, he had wanted to forge the shield the old-fashioned way, but decided to use a bit of magic instead.

Fingers of both hands moved around the lump of metal, drawing various magic symbols for heat. The motion made him think about Gleam and Ruby. It had been a while since the shardflies had roamed freely in the real world, not that they complained. Gleam was just as content within his realm, and as for Ruby, he was happy to stay close to her.

“Did you do what he did?” Dallion glanced at Pan.

“No.” The copyette placed the ingot back on the workbench he had taken it from. “But I was considering it.” He took a step away.

“Do another check,” Dallion said. “And tell Adzorg to create more illusion barriers. I don’t want anyone peeking.”

“Sure.” The copyette shifted to liquid form, trickling out of the room between the tiles on the floor.

In the meantime, Dallion focused on the ball of metal. By this point, all ingots had melted, creating one homogenous whole. Thousands of markers emerged around the molten lump, illustrating what actions one had to take to create the desired form. Dallion had chosen to base his design on the blueprint of an armadil shield—it was something he was used with and, more importantly, something that Vihrogon would appreciate. Naturally, there would be a few minor adjustments. The shield would be made strong enough to withstand dragon flames, and also have a far greater freedom of changing form.

Not everything has to shift shape, Onda remarked.

“Let an old man have his fun,” Dallion said, not cracking a smile. “The base form will be as it should.”

With the speed of a hummingbird’s wings, Dallion adjusted the shape before him. No tools were used, only fingers coated with magic threads. If someone was to see him, they might mistake him for an overgrown dwarf.

Working it like a sculpture, Dallion combined magic, forging, arts, and scholar skills into one. What should have taken days, or at least hours, was achieved in minutes. The level of control was short of Moon-like, maintaining everything from the air currents and overall temperature to the proportions of the materials within every part of the item. The base shape of a shield emerged.

Holding his breath for a moment, Dallion split the whole into an inner and outer section, then divided the outer circle into individual slices. Magic threads were woven in-between each of them like a fine mesh. Then, while the quasi-shield was still molten hot, he cast the portal spell to the banished realms.

A miniature vortex emerged. No larger than a coin, it achieved a direct link through the realms to the place from where one wasn’t normally supposed to return.

You certainly took your time. The cheerful voice of Vihrogon echoed in Dallion’s mind. Here to get me, or just visiting?

“I thought you knew me better than I knew myself.” Dallion focused on maintaining the vortex. “What do you think so far?”

About you or the shield? The dryad asked. The shield looks fine. You—not so much. Spending your free time tinkering with your toys instead of being with your wife… he let out an over-dramatic sigh. I knew this would happen if I left you.

​

SPHERE ITEM CREATED – ARMADIL SHIELD

​

Surprise and confusion emanated through the vortex.

I know you haven’t had much experience in this, but the trick is to summon me before the item is fully formed, the dryad said.

“Really?” Dallion asked in mock astonishment. With a sharp pull, he moved the vortex away from the shield, placing it in the middle of the room. Then, adding a few additional spell circles, he extended it until it was three feet in diameter.

Green light emanated from the portal, followed moments later by the top of Vihrogon’s head.

“How about this, then?” Dallion asked as the rest of the former guardian emerged in the room.

Identical to his form within the realms, with the exception of the ornate battle armor he was wearing, the former sword marshal looked around. He was not one to be at a lack for words, but the unfolding events made him question whether this was a dream or reality. For several seconds, he stood there, not breaking eye contact with Dallion, as if out of fear that doing so might throw him back into the banished realms.

Having completed its purpose, the portal faded away, vanishing from the real world. Vihrogon, though, remained.

​

IMPOSSIBLE REUNION

(+5 Empathy, +5 Magic)

You’re the first to have brought back a dryad into the real world. Hopefully, you won’t regret your action.

​

“You’ve gotten better at this,” the dryad said, reaching out and touching Dallion’s shoulder.

“I’ve grown a few levels since last time.” Dallion laughed. “So, about that shield.” He turned around, gently shaking the dryad’s hand off. “I’m thinking of giving it to Gem, since you won’t be able to use it.”

“Gem? Sure.” The dryad remained still in the center of the room. “You know what you just did, right? You brought a banished race back to the world.”

“I’m hardly the first. Besides, it’s not like you to get impressed by something I’ve done.”

“If I were in a realm, I’d have used a dozen comebacks ready by now…” The dryad reached out. Vines emerged from the palm of his hand, reaching all the way up to the ceiling before flowing back in his hand again. “I’ll need a few minutes.”

“Never thought I’d render you speechless.” Maybe summoning him into the real world like that without warning was a bit sudden. Even so, Dallion needed people more than he needed guardians.

Meanwhile, the armadil shield glowed bright purple. Heading that he’d get a new home had made Gem quickly fill up the new item before Dallion even had a chance to link it to his domain. At some point, he’d have to have a talk with the aether companion about that.

“So, how about—” Dallion began.

“Go home,” Vihrogon interrupted him.

“Huh?”

“Returning after all this time is a shock, but that’s my problem. You have other things to worry about.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know you better than you know yourself, remember?” The dryad winked. “You’ve cut all ties with the capital. What you thought was your family there is now gone. That made you think about your other family in this world.”

Using his music skills internally, Dallion closed up his emotions. He hadn’t expected that Vihrogon would be able to gleam that much. That was a stupid mistake, given that he knew the dryad had the empathy trait.

“You kept your promise, so there’s nothing keeping you from going there and saying hello. Plus—” The dryad’s expression hardened “—I’m sure that you have a few questions for your grandfather.”

Dallion had a lot more than a few. The old man wasn’t just some minor noble who had annoyed the wrong person; he had been the head of the secret Order and someone who had been admired. Why hadn’t he mentioned that before? And what was the real reason for his banishment? Above all, was there anything he could tell Dallion about his grandmother? All these were pertinent questions that Dallion wanted answers to, and now was a good time to get them.

Next

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Chapter Two:

(Dawn)

The Barrel Room was aptly named. It was literally a room full of shelves holding large wooden whiskey barrels. From the floor to the ceiling, it was nothing but barrels. There were more than enough here to smuggle all the dwarves out of Mirkwood.

In the center of the room, a long corporate-looking table waited for us. This looked like something right out of a boardroom. It could comfortably seat about 20 folks, but I’d wager Diana would find a way to squeeze in more chairs for 25 ladies eager to discuss their latest communal read.

I walked over to the table’s left end and sat near one of the table’s corners. My new friend followed quietly, looking like a bashful creature. Gods she was cute. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and her brown eyes kept looking every which way as she tried to avoid staring at me, another endearing quality.

She must have come straight from work because Frankie Dee was dressed in a blue button-down shirt and tight black pants. I wasn’t sure how my new friend managed to keep her fair skin so tanned during the winter, but she found a way.

Frankie looked like she was wound tight enough to snap, and I wondered what kind of life she led that twisted her up so much. She couldn’t have been but a few years older than me, but she already had the age lines of someone in their mid-to-late 40s.

I sipped my tea, and she did the same.

Trying to ease up on the flirting and tension that was so thick not even a knife could cut through it, I turned my attention to the room.

“Wow, it really smells like whiskey in here. I don’t know if I’ll even go nose blind to it,” I said, looking at all the shelves.

Frankie Dee’s eyes trailed mine before she spoke again.

“Honestly? This place seems like it should be a gentlemen’s club where they smoke cigars and play cards,” she said.

I snickered.

“The kind of place where they’d call you a ‘nosy dame’ and tell you to ‘beat it’?” I offered.

“Yes! Exactly that vibe,” Frankie said, finally taking a sip of her drink.

A woman wearing a blue puffy coat and leggings walked into the room carrying a hardbound cover of House of Hunger. Her hair was dyed blue and shaved on one side.

“Hey there, Dawn! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” she said with an airy voice.

I smiled and stood up to hug Diana, the founder of our little book club that she’d dubbed the Casco Book Coven.

“But I also feel like I see you all the time because I hear your podcast every morning. It’s a strange feeling,” she said, setting her book down as her candy cane earrings jingled.

Taking another drink, I grinned as we sat down.

“Well, I guess I’m just glad you still listen. You were one of my first Patreon subscribers, ya know?”

“Oh, that’s right! Back in 2018, the before times,” she said, laughing. “Shit. That feels like ages ago.”

It really did. Before the pandemic, starting my own witchy business seemed like a terrible idea. But when you’re working a minimum wage retail job for years on end, you quickly find that you don’t really have much to lose.

When I closed my eyes, I could still picture my first setup. I scraped together enough money to buy a decent little microphone. It was the ugliest bulb of a mic, but it had good reviews and surprising sound quality. It was the last one at Best Buy, which I took to be a sign.

Cramming myself into the closet with a little stool and bedside table, my laptop screen providing the only light, it was a hoot, let me tell you. The first couple of years were hard as I struggled to build an audience.

I vividly remember crying over my Audacity projects, eyes sore from staring at the screen for so long, wondering what the point even was. I’d spend the whole day dealing with shitty people behind the register at a dying clothing store that shall not be named. And then I’d come home, throw a Hot Pocket in the oven, light some incense on my altar to The Morrigan, and start editing audio.

Then Covid happened, and the world went to shit. Suddenly an astrology podcast was a hit. People somehow found Dawn’s Divinations and subscribed in droves. Things took off so quickly, I told my handsy manager to fuck off and could even afford some artists to make merch like stickers and keychains my listeners were eager to buy.

“Oh! Before I forget, this is Frankie Dee, our newest member,” I said, motioning to the woman who had taken advantage of our conversation to scarf down a plate of chips and salsa that were brought in by a server.

When the plate came in, it was full of red, black, and brown tortilla chips. And somehow, in the span of maybe 60 seconds, half of that plate had emptied.

Damn, she eats fast, I thought.

“Thank you so much for opening a space for me. I’ve. . . never been part of a book club before,” Frankie said.

“Of course! Welcome. Welcome. How do you like to read?” Diana asked. And I shook my head. She asked this question of all new book club members like it was the most fascinating piece of information she could get.

“Oh, um, audiobooks, I guess? I don’t have a lot of time because of work, so I have to listen if I want to finish any books,” the hungry blonde said, eyes sneaking glances back down at her chips and salsa. I’d wager she was silently wishing Diana would stop talking to her so she could finish that plate.

This poor thing looks like she hasn’t eaten all day, I thought, raising an eyebrow.

Diana nodded as a few more girls and a couple of thembies piled into the room. Some were carrying the book. One or two had their Kindles with them.

“I’m all about my little Nook. I use it so much the battery wore out, and I had to get it replaced” Diana said.

Pulling Diana’s attention back to me, I asked, “How much did that cost? Because I didn’t think they sold spare batteries for those.”

She rolled her eyes and turned to face the only witch in the room.

“Oh, they don’t! I had to have an electronics repair guy do it. Cost me more than a new tablet would have,” she said.

I raised an eyebrow and saw Frankie devouring her remaining chips and salsa while our club leader was distracted. Fighting to keep my grin from showing, I listened to Diana talk about how much she loved her little tablet she’d affectionately named Nookelback while a themby named Ginger brought in a few more chairs.

Frankie’s plate was cleared, and her glass was empty by the time Diana started the meeting, and we went around the table sharing our names and pronouns.

“Okay, so what did we think about the romance in this story?” Diana asked.

A girl named Jessica blurted out, “She was so awful! I hated how Lisavet treated Marion.”

Ginger shrugged and said, “What can I say? I love a good bloodthirsty woman. And I think she really did care about Marion in the end, with the diamond and everything.”

I leaned forward and said, “I’ll second that. I love when women.”

The room dissolved into laughter.

At one point, I noticed Frankie hadn’t chimed in yet. And Diana must have as well because she turned to her and asked, “So what did our club’s resident newbie think of the ending?”

Suddenly, the girl sitting beside me wasn’t so shy.

“I found the ending pretty cathartic. The story starts with a long journey on a train and ends with one. I’m not sure I could have asked for a more satisfying conclusion.”

I nodded, and Frankie seemed to lose her words when she finally turned toward me, putting her hands in her lap and sitting back in her chair all tight once more.

Diana left the room to get a refill, and a woman named Jackie sitting at the opposite corner of me said, “I just wish we’d gotten a little epilogue with a time skip at the end, you know? I wanted to see how she settled into her new life and how the other girls handled the transition.”

A few people agreed, but I shook my head.

“I think the story ending on the train is exactly what I wanted. My favorite books are those that draw to a close just before the narrative seals itself airtight,” I said, finishing my drink. “I like it when there’s enough space left in the story to imagine what might happen next.”

Frankie Dee was staring at me again, her eyes mesmerized while I talked about my literary preferences. So I turned to her and whispered, “Congratulations. You’ve just bought my next drink.”

Her cheeks flushed as she coughed and squirmed in her chair. But in the end, she merely said, “Uh huh. . .” and left to get that refill.

She’s fucking adorable, I thought, picturing the tarot pull I’d done after recording this morning’s episode.

The Two of Cups practically jumped out of my deck and into my hand when I finished shuffling. And I found myself visualizing the card in my hand. The deck I used most frequently and kept on my altar to The Morrigan was called Wise Goat Tarot. All of the cards featured goats of different colors, poses, and sizes.

In The Two of Cups I’d drawn today, I found two brown and white goats rubbing heads together, with a golden chalice covering one horn on each animal. It looked like each of them had stuck a curved horn into the chalice and then picked it up, wearing it as a tiny hat.

The card represented the connection between souls and a joyous spontaneity that came along with it.

And when Frankie Dee brought me back a new Long Island iced tea, I couldn’t help but find myself wanting to flirt with her some more. I was feeling spontaneous, and I wanted to see if I could unwind that tightly kept woman who stumbled into my path tonight.

Maybe I’d even share some of my lipstick with her if things went well. Because tarot pull or not, there was one thing I was sure of about Frankie Dee. She may be straightforward (when she’s not going gaga staring at me), but she is most definitely not straight.

***

“Okay, remember for next month’s meeting we’re reading The Moth Keeper by K. O’Neill,” Diana said.

Ginger smiled and said, “Excellent. My plan to get everyone obsessed with my favorite Kiwi author is progressing nicely.”

I snickered.

“Oh yeah? Your favorite? What about Tamsyn Muir?” I asked.

They scratched their head and frowned.

“Okay, my other favorite Kiwi author.”

Diana chuckled and chided the themby next, asking, “And what about Issy Waldrom?”

Ginger groaned, and her voice dropped to a mumble.

“My other. . . other favorite Kiwi author.”

Everyone laughed as the meeting came to a close.

When the room was empty aside from Frankie and myself, I started pushing abandoned chairs in while she raised an eyebrow.

“Old habit,” I said, shrugging. “Can’t leave a place messier than I found it.”

Frankie’s tummy then chose that time to make the loudest complaint known to man. I think there were Tibetan monks on the other side of the planet who heard it. She looked caught between wanting to tear her stomach out and punch it and dissolving into a puddle of embarrassment that would immediately seek out the nearest floor drain.

“C’mon, Frankie. Let’s get you an actual meal. When was the last time you ate before that plate of chips?”

She attempted to shrug and wobbled a little bit as I guided her to the bar.

“Hey Chris, can you get this poor starving girl a burger and fries er — ” I paused looking at Frankie. “Veggie burger?”

She shook her head and looked at the floor miserably like she couldn’t believe this was happening. Oh, it was happening, alright. But it would be okay because I was nothing, if not, a nurturing soul. Nurturing was fun because you got to poke at people and lightly tease them when they were at their weakest moments.

I never claimed to be kind AND nurturing, I thought, grinning as Chris took the cash I offered.

“I can Venmo you,” Frankie said, her stomach making enough noise that the men playing guitar on stage couldn’t drown it out.

“No worries,” I said, taking another sip of my tea. “Seriously, though, when did you last eat?”

Frankie’s eyes nearly rolled back into their sockets. Apparently asking her to do math on an empty stomach was a violation of the 8th Amendment.

“I think I had a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast,” she said.

“You THINK?!” I nearly scolded.

She flinched and stared down at the bar until Chris brought her food out, which she made vanish faster than the Joker’s pencil.

Frankie honest to gods belched as she pushed her plate away, and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“You’re an interesting gal, Frankie Dee,” I said, tracing a finger along the edge of my glass.

She attempted to get her fluster under control and took a long gulp of her second cider. It wasn’t working well — the controlling her fluster bit. The cider was working beautifully.

“Sorry about that. Um, so, what do you like to do aside from reading, Dawn?”

She’s worked up to small talk. That’s certainly an advancement, I thought.

“Well, I like to garden. I sometimes take off up to The County to hunt. And I manage an annual fundraiser for the Merrill Theatre downtown.”

“Wow, you stay busy,” Frankie said, asking Chris for a third cider.

“Not so busy that I forget to eat. What do you like to do aside from reading and work?”

And, for the first time, I watched Frankie with a little bit of worry in my gut as she rubbed the side of her head, staring at her empty glass. It looked like she was trying to think of a complex equation, but all I’d asked about were her hobbies. It shouldn’t have been a difficult question.

Unless. . . she legitimately doesn’t have any, I thought, trying to imagine how hard one would have to work to fill up every single second of the day not involved in sleeping. A tiny pit formed in the bottom of my gut, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by a strange desire to change that for her, which made no sense. This was a complete stranger. I’d known her for all of three hours at this point.

And yet. . . the desire remained, an all-consuming prompt at the base of my skull, and I knew it wasn’t going to change. So, picturing the Two of Cups again, I said, “Forget it. Do you want to get out of here?”

Frankie Dee’s eyes widened until they were larger than the plate she obliterated her burger and fries on. I watched her fingers twitch and that staring began again.

After a solid 30 seconds, she finally cleared her throat and asked, “Where. . . did you want to go?”

“How about back to my place?” I said.

I’m not embellishing in any way when I say a tiny squeak escaped from Frankie’s lips, and I found myself grinning like the Cheshire cat, suddenly curious about what other noises I might be able to coax from her.

“I — I really shouldn’t. I’ve gotta get home and look over some documents from the city before bed. And early tomorrow morning, I’m meeting our newest editor. Not to mention. . .,” her voice trailed off getting lost somewhere, along with her brown eyes in mine. They seemed so vibrant and hungry for something new, and I wanted to give it to her.

My heart was already fluttering a little because of the way she looked at me like I was some kind of goddess sitting next to her at a brewery full of people that didn’t matter and never would. All that mattered was her answer to my question. And it was one she didn’t seem to have finished yet.

I egged her on with a raised eyebrow and a slightly turned head.

“Mmmm?” I barely prompted her.

Her hands fumbled with her phone as she quickly turned it off. Not locked the screen. Turned the whole damn device off. Powered down entirely. Nobody was going to reach Frankie except for the witch sitting next to her.

“Fuck it. We ball,” she said, finishing her drink, nearly falling off her stool, and closing her tab once she regained her balance.

I paid my own tab, led her out to my Subaru, and thought, We ball indeed.

Cover art for Queen of the Desert Winds

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Other Serials: Star Child | Vestiges of Power | To Crown a King || Book Info

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Where we left off, Caroline and her friends had arrived at the Fall Ball. They enjoy the evening's festivities, until Caroline and Disraine start to sense that something is wrong. No longer able to hide the truth from her friends, she tries to show them a small display of magic, but instead, the light of the Goddess in her ring reacts to grant her friends new magical abilities...

“Let’s head back to the dance floor,” Caroline said. “It’s not as good of a vantage point, but it gets us a little closer to the Darkness, and makes it easier for us to put ourselves between it and everyone else. I want to watch it a little longer before thinking about attacking.”

Her friends followed, while Mr. Collins went over to where some of the other teachers were keeping an eye on the students from a respectful distance.

The Darkness continued to amass just above the trees behind Arborwood, and Caroline gave it more and more nervous glances as the dance neared its completion.

What is it waiting for? Caroline wondered. If it was pulling together this much power, it had to be planning something for tonight. Does it know about our plans to attack tomorrow?

The music paused and Caroline realized what the Darkness was waiting for.

“It’s the moment you’ve all been waiting for,” Kate said over the speakers. “Fall Ball Coronation!”

Everyone in attendance clapped.

“If the Fall Ball Court would all make their way down here to the front of the dance floor where the Fall Ball Committee and I are standing when I call your names,” she continued. She read off the names of each of the students voted onto the court, starting with the freshmen and working her way through the older classes.

“Now, as I’m sure everyone knows, the King and Queen of the Fall Ball are crowned from among the seniors,” Kate said. “This year’s vote was the closest it’s ever been, so everyone on the court should be extremely proud of themselves and their accomplishments.”

While Kate dragged out her speech, Caroline looked toward the sky. Confirming her fear, the Darkness loomed larger and closer than it had all evening. It was ready to consume all of the lights of the Fall Ball, and with it all of the pure magic of the Goddess.

But it had made a terrible assumption: That the Queen of the Desert Winds would also be Queen of the Fall Ball.

Caroline called every breeze she could, every shaking leaf, to her cause. It would be a weak shield, especially with so little wind spread over so large an area, but it was all she could do. But even a flimsy shield might deflect attention away from the other students and towards her, buying everyone a few moments to escape to the relative safety of the school buildings.

Her friends, meanwhile, stood by her side. Amber was asking Disraine questions, but Caroline didn’t hear them as she focused on her wind.

Kate pulled out the plastic crowns intended for the King and Queen of the Fall Ball. As if in response, the Darkness launched its attack.

Caroline responded quickly, weaving her meager winds to challenge the passage of the Darkness towards the student body. The rush of wind from both the attacking evil and Caroline’s defense broke the remaining barriers keeping the students oblivious. People looked up and saw the unnatural, swirling dread that was quickly coming from the woods.

“Get to the gym!” Caroline shouted at them. She hoped that Collins would be able to direct everyone, or at least get the staff to do their jobs. Supernatural forces from beyond this world weren’t exactly in their job descriptions.

If the initial onslaught hadn’t been enough to convince them, the redoubled efforts of the Darkness were. Realizing who had stopped it moments before, it focused its second attack on Caroline. She pulled her shield of wind tighter, the change allowing her to make it stronger.

At the same time, lights popped across the field. Despite flickering, the lights stayed on, and Caroline chanced a glance at her surroundings. The lights weren’t popping out as they succumbed to the darkness, only wavering.

“New magic,” Caroline said. She looked at Bella and Josie. Something like this wasn’t going to be subtle. “Josie, can you try to direct those sparks towards the Darkness?”

Josie held out a sparking arm, turning it over. Caroline grit her teeth, waiting for her friend. In any other moment, she’d try to give more instruction on how to harness an element. But she needed to keep most of her attention on her wind and on the Darkness, leaving her to hope that Josie could figure it out.

Josie made a throwing motion towards the Darkness. While her hands were empty, the lights on the field responded in kind, arcing from their sources towards the point Josie’s imagined ball would have flown towards. The web of sparks lit up the field and sky, and made the hairs on Caroline’s arms stand on edge. Had they been in Sirocco, such a potentially powerful ability would either be famed or feared, depending on where its owner’s alliances fell.

The Darkness recoiled as the light raced towards it, but only for a moment. As soon as the electricity subsided back to normal, the Darkness pushed against Caroline’s shield of winds again. Caroline pushed back, but she should tell that her power alone wouldn’t be enough for this fight.

“Am I the only one without magic?” Bella asked.

Caroline felt something different about Bella’s voice. “Keep talking,” she said. It was a long-shot idea, but it would match with her personality.

“About what?” Bella asked. “How absolutely bonkers this situation is? My friends fighting a shadow monster?”

Both Caroline’s wind shield and the Darkness grew in size at Bella’s words.

“Can you hype up me and Bella?” Caroline asked. “Or describe what we’re doing, in the biggest terms you can, as if you were telling a story to someone? Try not to talk about the Darkness too much, or if you do, talk about it in diminutive terms.”

“Uh, I guess?” Bella said. “Will it make you more powerful or something?”

Almost immediately, Caroline felt a small surge of power. It only lasted for a few seconds, but the effect was impossible to deny this time.

“It looks like Disraine and Amber are moving down towards the creek,” Bella said

“They’ll be safe down there,” Caroline said.

“The sparks are looking so bright, Josie,” Bella said. “That’s so cool that you can do that.”

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Josie said.

“It’s working though,” Caroline said. With the extra energy from her friends, even though Bella was directing her new magic at augmenting Bella’s sparks, she managed to dig deeper for an extra surge of wind, pushing the Darkness away from the part of the field where Disraine and Amber were. Caroline could just make out the movement of water out from the woods, obviously Disraine’s work, as well as the trees themselves. She smiled. With as much diversity in the types of magic as she and her friends possessed, they had hope.

Bella continued commenting in awe at the things her friends were doing to slowly push the Darkness back.

“It looks so small now,” she eventually commented. “And like it’s being attacked by things in the woods.”

“That’ll be the creatures of the woods, fighting to reclaim their homes from it,” Caroline said. Seeing how quickly her friends had adapted to magic, she was overflowing with pride for them.

“Lynne, it’s incredible how you can keep going with your wind for so long without any breaks,” Bella said. “You must be really powerful with this magic stuff.”

Caroline almost responded that she had been, back in Sirocco. It would have been a sad, wistful thought. But she realized Bella was right. Here, aided by her friends, she might not be as powerful as she had once been, but she was by no means weak.

“Thank the Goddess for all of you helping me though,” she responded. Then she reached for the light held in her ring. “And by the Goddess, together we’ll banish this Darkness once and for all.”

The light began to follow the wind away from Caroline and into the shield protecting most of the field. Its glow was distinct from Josie’s sparks, which pierced through the wall of wind to attack the Darkness, and instead became a part of the wind, infusing it with a subtle, peaceful glow to counter the all-consuming malice of the Darkness.

No matter what Caroline and her friends did, however, the Darkness persisted. It shrunk, fought back, and then they pushed it back again. But they never managed to completely defeat it. Caroline maintained her wall of wind, with the light of the Goddess, and Disraine added a wall of water from the side of the woods. But Josie and Amber’s attempts were less sustained, and ebbed and flowed as they worked to figure out their new abilities. Caroline watched the flow of the battle and how the balance between the two sides shifted.

She found that her and Disraine’s shields were nearly constant, and that each time Bella augmented one of them, the Darkness was pushed back in a more serious way, because the effects were more sustained. It was the coming and going of Josie and Amber’s efforts, and whether Bella was fast enough to help them, that made the real difference.

Caroline could also tell from watching her friends that, while they were getting the hang of their newfound magic, they were in no way at the skill level she was used to commanding. She and Disraine were going to have to do most of the work, and figure out a way to coordinate the others to get the final blow on the Darkness to finish it off.

The push and pull of the battle continued. Caroline watched for the ebb and flow of Disraine’s water and tried to coordinate her wind with it, to hopefully communicate to her that they needed to push together against the Darkness. It seemed to work, and soon after Amber’s trees began to make their stabs at the Darkness in more rhythmic time, instead of their random pulses.

This change was not lost on Caroline.

“Josie, can you see how the trees are moving down near where Amber and Disraine are by the creek?” she asked. “Try and time your sparks with them.”

Josie and Bella both turned their attention down to the creek to watch the trees. Caroline could feel the Darkness pushing against her magic in her lapse in attention, but the winds held.

Caroline prayed that their combined efforts would be enough. She felt that asking much more of her friends would be pushing them further than their understanding of their magic would allow at this point. A certain part of her even doubted whether the magic would persist past this evening. There had been no magic in this world before, so why would it stick around? she thought to herself.

Caroline quickly pushed those doubts away, fearing that they might be coming from the Darkness she was battling. She reminded herself that the Goddess would not take away a gift like magic, not after her friends sprang into action like this. And besides, this world hadn’t been completely without magic. Severely lacking in it, maybe, but not completely devoid. You just had to know where to look and how to harness it.

“I think one more push would do it in,” Bella said. Caroline and Disraine had been pushing their walls of their respective elements harder and harder, and Josie and Amber’s timings had improved quickly. With their combined efforts as well as the incessant attacks of the insects of the forest, the Darkness was surrounded and no longer fighting back, only resisting.

Caroline took a slow, deep breath. The swirling of her wind responded in kind, slowing down but never changing in resolve. Then, as she exhaled, she squeezed, creating a ball of air and light around what remained of the Darkness.

“It’s mine now,” Caroline said. She stepped forward and looked up to where the Darkness was encased in her winds, the insects waiting to one side and Disraine’s water to the other in case she failed. “In the name of the Goddess, cease your foul actions.”

“Silly girl, you think you can stop me,” the Darkness said.

“Not alone, I couldn’t,” Caroline said. “But with my friends, and the Goddess behind us, we have defeated you,” she said.

“And how do you propose to keep me contained?” the Darkness said, a laugh creeping into its voice. “You can’t keep this magic up forever, and your wind cannot destroy me.”

Caroline’s stomach sank. The Darkness was right. Even with the aid of the Goddess, she and her friends simply didn’t have the human capital to maintain constant guard over something like this. She needed a way to either permanently contain or utterly destroy this thing.

The next few seconds stretched into an eternity as Caroline searched for a possible solution. In Sirocco, she would have had an army of priestesses at her side to augment the blessings of the Goddess. And they would have been able to offer other measures of assistance, and possibly even of containment. But there were no stories Caroline could recall where an enemy was completely destroyed. That was not the way of Sirocco.

But Caroline realized that she didn’t need to rely on Siroccan stories for sources of inspiration. She was in her original world again, and it had its own stories of how to trap and destroy evil. And based on those stories, she had the perfect prison on her hand.

Suddenly, it made sense why the ring had come back with her, even after her Siroccan death. It wasn’t just a vessel for the light of the Goddess. Caroline herself could have safely held that magic. But Caroline realized that she needed to be shown that a diamond could hold the pure essence of light so that she could figure out that it could also trap the pure essence of darkness.

Caroline called out to any remaining light that might still be residing in the ring, pulling it out and adding it to the light encircling the Darkness. Then, with a now perfectly ordinary diamond, she pulled her ring off of her finger and held it out.

“Wind may not be able to destroy you, but stone can contain you, and the other elements can weather you down to nothing,” Caroline said.

The Darkness made no verbal response, instead only struggling against the combined onslaught of the combined magics of Caroline and her friends. But it was too late for the Darkness. Caroline started weaving the wind tighter and willing the light to entrap the Darkness in the diamond on her ring.

Even with it weakened, Caroline knew that trapping the Darkness was going to be the most dangerous part of this battle. Trapping it in the diamond was going to involve bringing it closer to her, her friends, and anyone else who hadn't yet taken refuge inside the gym. One mistake, one slip in her concentration, and it might escape and even overcome them all.

Even with that possibility, Caroline knew that it was what she needed to do. Queen or not, she had the power to stop the despair, malice, and evil of the Darkness, and with that power came the responsibility to do what she could to keep others safe.

Even in its weakened state, the Darkness fought back against Caroline’s efforts to contain it. Caroline had to constantly adjust both the winds and light to keep it contained as she trapped it in the diamond. The Darkness also made one last attempt to whisper doubts into Caroline’s mind.

You will still be nothing in this world, was its most effective musing, whispered into Caroline’s mind. A nobody. By my side you could have been a Queen again, and ruled once more.

It would have been a lie for Caroline to say that she didn’t miss her life in Siricco. It had been a good life. But the one she had in her original world was a good life too.

“I was blessed to rule in one life,” Caroline responded. “Whatever lies before me in the rest of this one, I will be blessed again, whether I wield power again or not.”

Moments later, the last of the Darkness was forced into the diamond.

Even though sealing the Darkness in was only the first step, Caroline let out a sigh of relief. Weathering the diamond down to nothing was not going to be an easy process, especially given how new her friends were to magic, but it had to work if they were going to scatter the Darkness so far and wide that it would take multiple lifetimes for it to return.

And then the wind stilled and the lights went back to normal.

Moments later, Disraine and Amber started to return from their positions down by the stream.

“Did we do it?” Bella asked.

“Nearly,” Caroline said, watching as shadows swirled within the diamond. “The worst of the danger has passed, but we still need to destroy it.”

Caroline led Bella and Josie across the field, meeting Disraine and Amber in the middle.

“That was incredible,” Amber said. “Like, wow.”

“It’s only contained, isn’t it?” Disraine asked.

Caroline nodded. “Wind and water will hopefully be enough to weather it down. I don’t want to risk anything else shattering the diamond and releasing the evil back into the world.”

“But it’s a diamond, isn’t it?” Amber asked. “Aren’t they super hard?”

“Not harder than magic,” Caroline said. “Though without the light of the Goddess, it will take more time than it might have with it.”

“We should get to work then, shouldn’t we?” Disraine asked.

“We should,” Caroline agreed.

Disraine formed an orb of water and Caroline placed the diamond, ring and all, into it. Then she called for any remaining wind in the forest.

“Would making the trees move help?” Amber asked.

“If you can,” Caroline said. “But don’t harm them or yourself.”

Moments later, Caroline could feel more motion in the air as the trees began swaying. Amber was humming something, but Caroline couldn’t place the tune. Maybe it had played earlier that evening on the dance floor? Regardless of Amber’s methods, Caroline latched onto the extra motion in the air and harnessed it, poking winds through Disraine’s orb of water, mixing and mingling the two elements in a persistent attack on the diamond in the center.

Slowly but surely the edges of the diamond lost their definition. Minutes passed as Caroline’s friends stood and watched. Bella occasionally oohed and ahed to try to give Caroline and Disraine some extra power, but otherwise everyone stayed quiet to allow Caroline and Disraine to concentrate.

Ten tense minutes passed before the diamond had been completely weathered away.

“It’s done,” Caroline declared. Everyone let out a sigh of relief.

Mr. Collins picked that moment to approach the circle of girls from where he had been keeping the rest of the Fall Ball attendees in the gym.

“Is- is it safe now?” he asked.

“The Darkness should be so thoroughly dispersed now that it will take generations for it to re-form,” Caroline said. “Maybe longer, given how less abundant magic is in this world.”

“What happens to the rest of the dance now?” Amber asked.

“It’s going to finish out in the gym,” Collins said. “Principal Jones and the other teachers thought it would be best, given the unexpected nature of this ‘freak wind storm,’ which seems to be the most popular explanation for what just happened. There’s still a lot of confusion about what was going on.”

“The less everyone else knows about magic, the better,” Caroline said.

“What do you mean?” Josie asked. “What we just did was totally awesome!”

“But could you explain it to the school?” Caroline asked, channeling just the slightest bit of the regal tone she used to use in Sirocco.

Josie frowned. “I guess that that would be a bit harder.”

“We don’t even know how strong any of our magics will be now that I no longer have the light of the Goddess,” Caroline said. She knew that she and Disraine would feel the loss most sharply, since they knew what it felt like to be in a world with magic. But what differences would her other friends notice?

“I don’t feel a difference, not yet,” Disraine said. “But maybe the blessing the Goddess granted me when you first found me in the river was stronger than we realized?”

“Maybe,” Caroline said.

“You girls should probably rejoin the rest of the students in the gym,” Collins said.

Caroline gave one last look at the sky, just to be sure that there wasn’t some lingering tendril of evil to be banished, then turned and led her friends into the gym.

The market streets do nothing but grow livelier as the sun begins to set along the horizon. Stalls and carts butt up against each other, fighting for the best spots along the street. Walking the market is an assault on the senses. Vendors yell for hours at a time, ‘Hot food! Cold mead!’ The smell of bread and sour soups drifts out of restaurant chimneys in hot puffs of steam. Men and women converse in a row on splintering wooden tables, playing card or dice games. They yell because it is the only way they can hear each other over the noise of the market; which does nothing but make need for more yelling. Carts pulled by huffing mules weave through the crowd, filled with squealing children waving fans and pinwheels, blowing whistles. 

There are minstrels plucking lutes who stand on boxes to get above the crowd, singing songs and announcing their upcoming plays. The best show you can imagine, and more! Half price on seats if you buy right now! 

Big signs stick out from the top of tents, advertising freshly roasted ducks and chickens which are spiked, plucked, and roasted with black smoke right there in the market. The smoke billows and pools at the top of the tent’s canopy, which makes your eyes sting and mouth drip. The vendors shear pieces of fresh white meat off of the bone, dropping the occasional unfortunate slice. If I were a street dog, the market would be my heaven.

But, sadly I am not a street dog. I am the Crowned Princess of Cadium. 

If I were to walk through the market as a princess, the men and women would stop yelling across tables during their games to stand and kneel. The carts of children would be rushed to the edges of the street, scolded into silence and pinwheels taken away. Minstrels would step down and pull their boxes away from my path. The smoke for curing meat snuffed out and fanned away. The roasting chickens and ducks are packaged up for me long before their stalls are even within eyesight. The vendors would rush to the front of their stalls, clearing their raspy throats to offer samples and gift baskets. ‘Hail the Crest!’ they would chant.

The life of the market becomes cold when the Crowned Princess of Cadium is present.

Thankfully, not many can identify me without my embossed robes; even fewer without my red veil. With an oversized dress I borrowed from Emmy, I am able to walk freely through the streets of my people.

The men and women continue their games of cards without sparing me a glance. They banter and yell like no one is listening. I can squeeze between stalls like the children do, pushing my way through the crowd. The vendors pay no mind to me until my coin purse comes off of my belt. Then I get treated like a prized, paying customer; basically the same as royalty in their eyes. I get to barter and fuss and pick my own cooked duck, and the fresh smoke makes my eyes burn and water.

Once I become Queen and lose my veil I won’t have the luxury of my bare face being a disguise. I make sure to savor these regular moments while I can. Just one person in a crowd.

Of course, I am never really by myself in this jungle of stalls. A guard of the white cloth tails me closely. Thankfully he wears his own garments, an adopted disguise like mine to not attract unwanted attention.

The royal family hasn’t religiously worn coverings for many generations, but it is still seen as a tradition that both nobles and common folk have come to love. Originating from Sir Gortha Leighton IV, who was said to be such a gruesome and battle-worn prince that no partner could stand the betrothal process. I can’t imagine the reveal at the reception.

Thankfully, Cadium hasn’t been a part of any war in many years. When I was born after many years of trying, my father made sure that he would stay out of other political ‘discrepancies’, as he likes to call them. The guard’s strength is substantial, but their influence and protection stay within our borders. 

All that being said, my veil is truly ornamental and I only bother to wear it during social events. The piece of sheer red chiffon, held in place against my brow with a plain golden circlet, does wonders for creating a character that I do not uphold. Many of the guards are not used to my presence without it. And it is easy to lose another face in the swirling masses.

I begin my stroll as normal, taking my time at the entrance streets to the market. Talking to vendors for a little too long. Making casual conversation with people playing cards, maybe even playing a hand or two myself. Doing nothing but watching the crowd move through. The sun goes from a blazing dot in the sky to a low burn above the horizon.

When I see my knight’s eyes start to glaze over, dull and tired from following me in the sun all day. I sit with them and ask them if they would like something to drink:

They haven't had anything to drink all day. 

We’ve been standing so long, your feet must be tired. 

Maybe a cider or a mead- I promise I won’t tell. 

I would get in trouble for being here as I am anyway. 

So it can be just between us. 

I'll go grab us two cups of something cold to drink and be right back. 

Oh no, you can stay sitting, I'll be right back.

I pick a stall within eyeshot of my knight with the longest line I can find. I even go as far as to let people go ahead of me so that I can have more time to pick what I want. As soon as I see my guard spare a glance away from me, I lazily wander into the thickest part of the crowd. 

With the sun at my back, I quicken my pace, making as much distance between me and my knight as I can. After a few blocks, I can slow to a more comfortable stroll. I wander through tents as I have been doing all day, but now I am truly on my own. The streets feel more free. 

Eventually, I find myself at a familiar split in the road. The market has thinned out in this part of town, and residential huts line the majority of the street now. Only a few people walk the streets every few moments, usually returning from a trip to the market. Two small buildings sit in an unlit alley, mirroring their designs down to the window casings. 

The first building is chocolate brown, dark oak slats line the ground, splintering and cracking with age. Small plants have rooted in the cracks and are beginning to climb the corners of the house.  There is a weathered sign nailed above the door: ‘Herbery and Cigars.’ A three leafed clover is carved below the painted text but is halfway covered in moss. 

I think for a moment about paying a visit to my favorite card reader but decide against it. It’s only been a fortnight since I saw her last, and I’d rather not get told for the fifth time that I am being bullheaded. 

The second house looks less battered down with time. It is painted in a rich copper color, making the first building look even more dull. There is fresh spruce blocking along the base of it, still smelling of forest and rain. Small checkered aprons hang below the windows, which are flickering with light from the inside of the hut. I look at the white sign above the door and see the word ‘Chocolatier’ in fresh red paint. I haven’t seen this building before, which isn't surprising because I haven’t been in town like this for a few months.

I walk to the side window and peek in. A small stove holds a giant black cauldron, bubbling with golden butter. Above the stove is a shelf, lined with glass spice jars. A small man with brittle old hands is stooped over a cutting board, whittling off bits of a block of brown which I can only assume is a giant chunk of cacao. He wipes a hand across his brow and leaves a deep charcoal smudge across his face. In the corner, an older woman holds her belly and gives a deep laugh. I watch as the woman is scolded by the man, her shoulders still shaking with laughter as she grips the edges of her till. 

I begin to make my way to the front door so that I can meet these people and become a patron when my wrist is grabbed by a spindly man covered in soot grey robes:

“Scuse me, miss,” he hisses out from his cloak, “You wouldn’t happen to ‘ave any spare coin, would ya?” His eyes flick to my belt where my coin purse and satchel are attached.

I glance at his hand, which hasn’t lessened its grip on my arm. “I might have some change,” I say, looking up into his hungry eyes. His features look almost wolf-like, too pointy and harsh. A story from my childhood about a wolf and a hen flash in my memory, distant and also very present.

He steps forward and I see a flash of sharp silver on his belt. My breath catches in my throat. I suddenly am too aware of how few people there are walking on this street. How alone I feel. His grip on my wrist grows tighter. 

“Maybe you ‘happen to have a ‘lil more than just coin,” he says through a hideous smile. 

My heart thunders in my ears and the edges of my vision begin to blur. I can feel the blood rushing through my fingertips.

I swallow my fear and take a quivering breath in. I may be alone, but I am not helpless. I plant my feet, squeeze my eyes shut, and swing my elbow as hard as I can.

A bony crack shatters across the man’s cheekbone, snapping his head back and loosening his grip on my wrist. I jerk my hand away and break out into the fastest run I can manage on my shaking legs. 

The air burns in my lungs as I navigate the narrow side street, the sparse lighting and cluttered pathways making a dangerous obstacle course. I hear the man at my back, roaring in pain. His steps stagger for a moment along the gravel, but then break out into a steady sprint behind me.

Tears streak across my cheeks as I run through the alleys. My cheeks are red and burning as I gulp down air. I know the direction of the market, but not a perfect pathway back to it in the side streets. I race through the streets, following the lanterns. By now the sun has set and made way for the evening sky. 

As I round a corner, kicking up dust under my feet as I run, I see a familiar split in the road. The edge of the market is just a few streets away. I can still hear the man behind me but his footsteps have slowed. The amount of people on the streets has grown more frequent. 

When I reach the end of the market I squeeze into the crowd and begin to make my way back to my escort. I allow myself a deep breath of relief as I finally am safe from the man.

Suddenly, I am pushed back by a farmer pulling a cart, “Hey watch it, girl” he grunts.

I stumble backward and run right into the side of a woman carrying a bucket of black fish. The woman stumbles and two of the fish slip from the bucket, their dead yellow eyes staring up at me as they fall to the ground, “Oi there!” she yells.

I raise my hands to apologize to the woman when the man slips into my vision, only a few paces away from me now. Angrily pushing his way through the crowd directly towards me. My vision blurs and I choke on my apology. I stagger backward and frantically search for an exit. A small tent with purple canvas is covering the alley of the market and I might be able to slip away from his vision through it.

I push through the crowd, ducking around people whenever I can. A cart curves around me, giving me a few more paces between me and my dangerous companion. The tent is just a few steps away, and I reach a hand forward to move the curtain door to the side. 

I get to the edge of the tent, my fingertips brushing the thick felt curtains. I am halfway inside the door when a firm hand grabs the side of my neck. Cold fingers resting on my throat. 

My heart stops.

I shriek and whirl on my heel, raising my shaking fists. I am ready to fight if that is what it comes down to. 

My guard stares at me with eyes the size of saucers, and a deeply set frown cast across his lips. His eyes frantically search my expression. After a moment, his hand goes to the hilt of his short sword and his head whips around to see what has frightened me.

I gasp, trying to catch my wild breath and collect myself. I look to the vendor whose tent I tried to escape through. “Hi, I’ll take two…” When I see the sign hanging above the till, I stutter, “I’ll take two prune juices please.”

First | Previous | Next

CHAPTER 3

Garrett is watching Amanda carefully; he chooses his next words carefully to ensure they are on the same path.

"So that stuff about you and Sam laying it as a trap? Fact or fiction?"

"Um...,"she rolls her eyes around giving it a fake moment of debate before coming back with solitude, "mostly fiction. Sam doesn't like the Tacca Chantrierei, or more commonly known as the 'black bat flower.'"

"That’s what it’s called?"

"Yeah,”Amanda laughs as if this is common knowledge.“If they were still listening, because you know Steiner wasn't off the line when you commanded, it’ll put a little fear and caution into their future actions where Sam is concerned."

"If they think she's already one step ahead of them--"

"Then she is. If Steiner's not the one behind this--which my gut tells me he isn't--he'll be digging to find out who is moving in on his turf, accessing his precious files, so on and so forth. Figured I'd get a little mileage out of him being my constant watchdog annoyance."

"And feed into his already inflated sense of conspiracy where the two of you are involved."

"Don't exclude yourself, young man. He was on your back long before we entered the picture and are half the reason he is."

“Young man?” Garrett questions, but only as far as her speaking it aloud. “I’m at least ten years your elder.”

“To the eye anyway.” Amanda gives him a mischievous, yet accepting, wink.

"True, they say you’re only as old as you feel inside.” Garrett covers by taking a drink, giving himself a moment to evaluate the sudden shift in Amanda’s demeanor.

He notes the lack of tremors, her stature shifting from one under siege from a debilitating injury and constant pain to one of a strong, capable individual in complete control. He meets Amanda's eyes and an unspoken understanding transmits between them. Garrett gives a subtle shake of his head and lets an inaudible utterance of being impressed pass between them. Amanda answers with a slight curl at the corner of her lips and a raise of her brow indicating she understands what he's seeing, and while not verbally confirming it, she's appreciative, comfortable and a moderate level of pride at his awareness.

“On another subject,” Garrett diverts away from where their interaction was heading, “good choice on Carter. I just hope you’re right, and he’s ready."

"Why thank you, kind sir," she says playfully. "Hope is not needed, he IS ready; and if you haven't figured it out by now, I’m always right." She gives an evil grin, but what flashes behind her eyes puts Garrett on edge, his posture quickly changes to one of defensiveness. "By the time you worked through all the bureaucracy and then dismissed all the qualified kiss-asses, everyone and their dog would have known you were courting a partner for Sam. Oh just imagine the rumors that would be milling around the water cooler then?"

He gives a small laugh weighted with seriousness. "It wasn't the rumors I was concerned about."

"Yeah kind of got that when I started poking around. Don't worry; your secrets are safe with me."

"Until you need something."

"Anonymous blackmail is one of our favorite tools," she says, making sure it's clear she includes him in the description. "We keep it sharp and awareness that it cuts deep both ways."

"Yes, we do, and it does," Garrett returns, both of them aware of the heavy meaning and understanding of what they know of each other. He shifts the conversation away from where it's heading. "So, what else have you 'not' been up to?"

"Um, a couple of days ago I consulted on a project as a certified ethical hacker, fun but not much of a challenge. The company could have spent far less to find out how insecure their network was. I got some cool toys out of it though. I'd show you, but they're top secret." She smiles innocently as he chuckles and shakes his head. "Came across your desk did it?"

"Yes. Had every cybercrime agency on high alert before your alter ego waved the white hat."

"Testing your reflexes, as you implied in your request." She shrugs innocently. "Also wanted them to understand the cascading consequences if they had a breach of that magnitude. Now, a little more attention will be paid to the proper security of their networks. Bureau geeks are attentive and on task and my ‘alter ego,' as you put it, is taking a well-deserved vacation in a non-extradition tropical country. Wish I could join her."

"Me too.” Garrett acknowledges her comments and thoroughness of covering her tracks. “Not to mention the continuing requests and payments you'll receive for information on how you did it and how to keep the likes of you out."

"True, but a girl’s got to make a living somehow. It was enough to pay off the building and give it a good facelift.”

“Thought you already owned it?” Garrett asks.

"This one? Yeah, a couple of years ago, you knew that. The one in question was some historical building downtown they wanted to knockdown versus retrofitting it after the last earthquake. Price was right; besides, I have an affinity for old things."

Garrett knows immediately which one she's talking about and smiles with a gentle shake of his head. "And for irritating the CEO of Tanner Inc., the thought crossed my mind it might be you behind that bid."

"But when you looked, my name wasn't anywhere near it nor was Lyons. Yeah, they call them shell companies, Garrett. I own a few of those as well. Some you know about, some you don't."

“Between the two of us, you can admit you did it out of spite.”

“Oh yeah, totally, wouldn’t you? He stole my software and claimed it as his own, built an empire around it, millions--potentially billions-- of dollars in government contracts.”

“Never proven he stole it.”

"Yeah well, that's for me to know and to prove later." She smiles evilly. "It'll bite him in the ass eventually, what goes around comes around and time is on MY side, not his. Though I hear the view from his new digs isn't quite the beach front property he was hoping for. But, if I recall, it was you who told me to get involved in the community. Can't wield a hammer or paint a wall,"--she indicates her injuries--"but I can donate some cash that's lying around to ensure future generations of children can explore all the mysteries of the museum they're putting in there."

Garrett laughs, “Surprised you didn’t just buy him out.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“From what I was briefed on your recent adventures, you could have crippled Tanner’s business.”

"Could have. Tanner's safe as long as I choose to stay on the good guy side of things."

"You of course are." Garrett leads for an appropriate answer.

"For the time being." She offers a devious yet reassuring smile. "The company is paying well for sealing up the potential breach. The other vulnerabilities--for those analyzing--consider it a gift to the various agencies that hold a lot of information about my alternate identities. This job offer of yours, related? You adding the personal touch the others lack?"

"You have already turned down overtures from everyone, I understand why. Who you REALLY are, what you're hiding from, and what you're capable of when that's threatened is a secret best left alone by everyone."

"Finally coming around on that are we?" She asks with a smile knowing the answer. "Hum," she utters, her mind appearing as if elsewhere and something of concern has come up. "If I recall, you're a history buff, aren't you?" She asks shifting the topic with a pointed invite.

"Passing curiosity when I have time, which I don't. Why do you ask?"

"What's occupying my time now," she says nodding towards the computers indicating she's heading that way. "You kept up with encyclopedia-memory Sam, so I would say it's more than a passing curiosity."

"I cheated." Garrett carries her beer and follows her.

He keeps a close eye on her and her movements always ready should she falter, but also aware that who he knows her to be would never allow the weakness to show. Her allowance of him witnessing her trouble with the pain of her injuries minutes earlier was a giant step in their complicated and challenging relationship; one to which he knew, from experience, not to prod at, but to take it as it was intended, an opportunity to gain her respect and trust.

"Had a geek team in your ear, did you?" Amanda asks not blind to his watchful eyes and lets it be known through her relaxed stature that she's appreciative, but unable to verbalize it just yet.

"Yes. It was you picking up on things like that which made me curious about your background." Garrett sets her beer down on the desk within her reach.

"You mean as a grand master of the spycraft? Super assassin? Someone plotting the end of the world? Are you still holding onto those theories?"

She wiggles the mouse, the displays drop off the bouncing lock screen saver, and the images Vicky had sent earlier display in full detail across the monitors. He takes in the pictures; a boyish smile crosses his face.

"I will continue until I prove…" he prepares a correction, making a note with his tone"--for myself--who you were before." His focus narrows on the images. "Is that in Coptic?"

"Only a handful would pick up on that so quickly, but yeah, and a rather interesting dialect. Dr. Vicky Abbott unearthed it near a Nubian monastery recently.”

“Why is that name familiar?”

“Sam studied under her for a time, but you probably make the connection to the name through her older sister Elizabeth. You were on your way to meet her when Sam called you about ending up in Landing View with me.”

“Are you ser—“

“Yes,” Amanda quickly dives in and cuts him off. “She wanted to see if I could translate it." She takes the beer and takes a small sip. "It really bothers you doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does," Garrett says, his eyes conveying a question that he would like to ask but is unsure if he should. She gives him indication to hold off. He lets it go and focuses back on the screen. "You translate dead languages as well?"

"It's just like any other coded encryption, just a matter of deciphering it, and we know I'm good at that."

"So is Sam. You mind?" He asks of sitting in her chair following a subtle cue she was giving off.

"Ah, have at it. Be the king geek for a while, I know you want to." She leans against the desk, wincing in pain. "Sam's the one who hooked us up; you know how she is about bringing people together to solve puzzles.” She hints heavily implying it was purposeful that the two of them are having this conversation over the materials. “Vicky was one of her professors or something. Totally legit. Anyway, she asked if I'd take a stab at it; figured why not?"

Garrett picks up the hinting lead. "Yeah, they studied together when Sam was getting her masters or was it a doctorate? I can never keep them all straight."

"I can't either," Amanda says reaching down and massaging just above her knee. "You got a good one with her. She'll make a good agent, though watch out for the CIA --given the opportunity--"

"I’m aware. She's been on their recruitment list since the day it was discovered she had an eidetic memory. Ours as well. Her dad was like any good protective father: on the porch with the shotgun slung over his shoulder as a warning to prospective suitors, me included." He says with unwavering respect.

"I gather he was an amazing guy. Sam doesn't talk much about him, given the constant surveillance and who’s behind it." She lets a hint carry on her tone that he should follow her lead.

"I can understand where she’s coming from, I’m the same way. Can we just say he was one hell of a man and an even better father?"

Amanda gives a little laugh."Yeah, I can go for that. Though, he probably wouldn't like you whisking his daughter into service for the Bureau." She reaches for a bottle of pills behind her and works the top off.

"There you go again as if you know what law enforcement and service are all about."

"Do a lot of reading, and that's where Sam was heading. You're always around --doesn't take a genius to figure out the qualifications of a good or bad agent." She throws the pills into her mouth and swallows them. She looks down at her leg. "I've had my fair share of encounters with the later." She gives him another non-verbal cue of an open topic of conversation.

"Sam made her own choice. I didn't influence it in any way, and you damn well know it."

"Ouch, defensive much?" she returns with a sarcastic smile, then pops two more pills in her mouth and takes another drink. Garrett looks to the action with concern then starts to get up to free the chair, disbelieving of his inconsideration to her condition. "No, you sit, unless my hovering over you is bothersome. Really, it is better if I stand."

"How's that going by the way?" He cautiously asks about her leg hoping this was the path she was directing him down.

"It's kind of you to ask," she says, reaching over and tapping on the keyboard. Her medical records appear on the screen. "But I'm sure it's all been explained to you by the experts you employ"--she takes another drink-- "and don't get all ‘uptight-fed-in-the-presence-of-a-law breaker’ on me. It's not against the law if they're your records. Acquired them fair and square when they wouldn't share easily quoting HIPPA something or other. I was courteous enough not to peek at anyone else's. Forwarded them off this morning to another expert for his opinion; we'll see what he comes back with."

"Unauthorized access," he states simply.

"By law, I have a right to MY information; you, on the other hand, put up all sorts of security around it, without --by the way-- asking for my permission."

"With good reason."

"So one of my many aliases won't be using words like ‘lawsuit’ and ‘abuse of authority’ towards the Bureau for the mistreatment that led to this?" She asks about the condition of her leg.

“We didn’t--”

"YOU didn’t, but we know some crossed those lines. The bigger issue is Lassiter Pharmaceuticals for the shit anti-viral that is appearing to cause major organ failure. I just happen to be one of the lucky ones who it hasn’t killed off yet. I can't open that can of worms because then they'll poke at me wondering why I'm not dead–should be, but not. Broom, sweep under the ‘pre-existing’ or ‘cancer’ rug, done.”

“That’s one way of looking at it. Another is to protect who you are. You’re good with creating identities, but how many of them would hold up to the scrutiny and publicity of such an inquest? Besides, how many of them are legal residences of the States? By my count, not one of them. Rights you’re asking for only come with citizenship.”

“Semantics.”

He rolls his eyes. “And you wonder why I believe what I do about you?”

“Oh, not at all."

"You do it on purpose."

"Yes, because I like watching you work, and you like the challenge. It's the game we play; it's our ‘THING.' I've been to every head shrink, doctor, and quack you've suggested hoping one of them will find something the others haven't; that miracle key that will unlock the mystery of who I was before. I've grown tired of it, and after all this time, I have come to a conclusion --as has everyone else-- it's better to move on with my life instead of wasting all that energy on what has past. Why haven't you?"

"Because it's unsolved, and you dangle the answers in front of me like a carrot."

"Just think of all the hours of sleep you'll get if you just accept it? Don't you think I've been scouring the internet and private networks for that little tidbit of information that will put it all together? Wait, you know I have." She takes a drink. "But for me, it's just a hobby to pass the time and stave off the boredom until Sam gets back."

“I respectfully disagree, and suspect it is to discover who out there may be picking up on who you were before; who might be on the hunt for whatever subtle clues you might drop consciously or otherwise.”

"Ah, yes, he does get it, but only you." She winks. "Though I hope you have a bigger drive this time. Been rather busy, and with the new toys I put together, the encryption should keep your techs occupied for a while, might teach them a thing or two as well. Question?”

“What?”

"Is it legal for you to use government resources for your pet projects?" He does not answer. "You know, you could just ask." she says hinting that he should.

He smiles, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small thumb drive. "May I?"

"Yeah," she says indicating a port to plug it into amongst the many systems lined up beneath the desk. "Least I can do to help you save face. Steiner must think you are a super-spy-extraordinaire. Just let you walk in here, without question, and plug stuff into my computers. Of course, there's that whole spite thing."

"You'd rather give it to me willingly than let him work for it."

“Yes, and no. The government won’t pay me for the encryption software and mobile network protections I developed without all those proprietary non-disclosure agreements and such. Gee, they’re still trying to reverse engineer the patch for the blackout virus. It serves my purposes that they have parts of it to protect my own ass, and it serves your interests if they believe you have a close enough relationship with me that I don’t notice you’re sneaking it out of here.”

“Well said.” Garrett smiles as he moves the dangling leaves of a plant sitting on top of the tower and plugs in the drive. When he looks up to Amanda, a small tendril inches from underneath one of the leaves and wraps around the thumb drive in a tight grip, then fades from luscious green to a translucent state rendering it invisible.

"I've been given the lead to create a new team. I want you to be part of it, but--"

"Can't be a fed without a clean background, and for it to be clean one would need to know where I came from, where I was educated, where my loyalties lie, or some existence that can be tracked." She takes a moment, gives it some thought. "You're not offering a position with the Bureau, are you?"

"No."

She takes the last drink and tosses the bottle into the garbage can, then looks to Garrett. "Do you feel it's safe to be discussing this here?"

"I think that question is best answered by you." he says leaning back in the chair and looking up at her.

"A carefully constructed ploy to learn how, if present, I defeat your attempts at surveillance?" She hints with playfulness yet with underlying tones of seriousness.

"Possible, but I wouldn't have given up the drive if that were the case. Could be seen as me leaking information," Garrett says with gravity, his eyes lock with hers --an unspoken communication taking place.

"And I wouldn't have offered on the same premise," she says holding his gaze and reading what he is indicating. "Why now? After all this time?"

"Sam. Her intuition will put her on the same path her parents were on."

"Tough place for you to be in," Amanda says understanding. Then as if conceding on some long-standing unmentioned barrier. "Grab me another one please?" She indicates the beer.

With a nod, Garrett gets up and makes his efforts purposeful and noticeable in not seeing what Amanda is doing. She leans over to the keyboard, pulls up a small box and types in Garrett's name followed by a string of characters and hits enter. The box flashes a warning about the thumb drive, posing the question to secure or not. Amanda selects the quarantine with delay option. She then works with speed instructing the system to take the delay further out but keep it on their current path of conversation. She returns to her position leaning against the desk as if she'd not moved. He finds his way back, pops the top off the beer and hands it to her.

"So about this job offer, you willing to be open about what it entails, all of it? And I'll do my best not to be so elusive and vague in my answers?"

"What I know, yes." He says accepting her terms. He spins the chair offering it to her.

"Works better if you sit," she says of his kindness. "Lighter processing load if they don't have to accommodate for rendering your movements along with a deviating storyline. The drive, starting point?"

"Yes.”

CHAPTER 2

A middle-aged man wearing only a pair of shorts is sitting in front of a projected image with a screen that covers the entire wall of the moderately sized one-bedroom apartment. It looks as though he hasn’t showered in days, his facial hair a mess, his hands, arms and lower legs are wrapped in bandages that by appearance haven't been changed in days. His face, upper legs, and chest are covered with small red bumps --many of them open and bleeding as if he has been scratching at them. There are countless pizza boxes stacked everywhere, the garbage can nearby is overflowing with crushed cans, and the surrounding area littered with them. He is playing an online game full of explosions and gunfire with multiple open windows along the bottom of the screen scrolling text. The noise masks the pounding at the door behind him. A few moments pass, then the pounding at the door continues and is followed by the doorbell announcing repeatedly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting the message, someone's at the door. Hey guys, sorry, gotta drop out, I’ll catch you on the next round."

The game drops to the introduction screen as one by one he closes the windows along the bottom, taking a few moments to type into one before exiting it. He reaches up and scratches his neck as he moves the keyboard from his lap and peels a headset from his head, setting them both to the stand beside the recliner he is sitting in.

He steps through the mess of garbage on the floor in his bare feet as if traversing a minefield--his gait unsteady, his hands continually scratching the rash covering his body. He looks at the array of monitors lining the kitchen counter and the row of PCs below and rolls his eyes.

"Dante, lockdown and go to sleep." The sound of the systems powering down sounds, and the monitors power down together as the pounding on the door continues. "Yeah, I'm coming, just give me a minute!"

He looks through the peephole on the door, rolls his eyes, then takes in and releases a deep breath before unlocking the multiple locks on the door. He opens it and stands front and center blocking entry.

“Matt, Luke, what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Usual,” Luke, the larger of the two, says as he contemplates placing his hand on Jason's chest, but holds back not wanting to touch him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Matt, the smaller of the two men, asks of the scratching and visible open wounds.

“Not really sure,” Jason says, stepping aside and granting them entry. “Docs say they’ve never seen anything like it and to stay home and try their wide variety of medicinal products.” He points to a stand with multiple creams, lotions, and prescription drugs. “Good news, it’s not contagious.”

"One would hope," Matt says looking around.

“Was I supposed to have something for you guys? If so, I’m sorry, but I didn’t get the memo.”

"No, here for other reasons," Luke says.

“That doesn’t bode well. That last one, it’ll work just as I promised. It's just a matter of time before--"

"Relax Jason," Matt says giving him a nudge towards his computers. "Your debt to our employer has been paid in full. The transfer is complete. We are here to ensure you receive what is coming to you, the funds are verified as received, and that there are no remnants of the task."

“Part of the deal was I didn’t keep a copy. All up here, and on the drives you left here with.”

"Just let him verify it so we can get out of here before we catch something," Luke says letting his eyes roll around in disgust at the premise.

“Ah, I’d love to, but Dante is in the middle of an upgrade.” He looks to Luke who obviously isn’t going to accept that answer. "But for you guys, I'll start it over again." He moves over to the row of towers and boots them up. "So it worked? They found what they were looking for?"

“Just do what you're asked," Luke says.

The systems power up quickly, Jason puts in his password, and immediately checks his accounts.

“Yeah, funds are there, wow, that’s a lot of zeroes.”

“Step back, keep your distance, let Matt do his thing.” Luke states.

“Sure thing.”Jason steps aside so Matt can access the keyboard. “I followed all the requirements. Acquired, designed, translated, encoded it and gave it to you guys. Some of that shit wasn’t easy! Especially the pictures, without letting me at the old books. Do you have any idea how hard it is to translate then decrypt something from a picture?”

“I’m sure you understand given the nature of who we work for, and where you got the job in the first place, we can't just take your word for it," Matt says. “That’s not to discount the effort you had to put in, sure it wasn’t easy.”

"Hell no, it wasn't,” Jason retorts.

Matt continues to work as screens open and close quickly. “It’s all onboard.”

“What does that mean?” Jason asks.

“Means you won’t be seeing us anymore.”

“No offense guys, but I prefer the anonymous interactions. The babysitter goons are a little too much.”

Matt reaches into his pocket and retrieves what looks like a cell phone. He places it on top of the tower --a light blinks, the display on the computer scrambles, everything goes blank, and the machines power down.

"What the Fuck!?” Jason exclaims moving to turn the power back on, but nothing happens. “What did you do?”

“What was required. Sorry man, any backups?”

"In here," he says tapping his temple. "In this business, you don't keep incriminating stuff like that on your systems, cops and all. What do you think I am? Stupid?"

"Well up until now I thought you were pretty damned smart." Luke gets a nod from Matt then pulls a silenced pistol and points it at Jason. "Lying about it would have given you at least a chance." Jason doesn't even have a moment to blink--let alone object-- before the back of his head explodes against the wall.

“Jesus Luke!” Matt blurts out.

“Isn’t anything religious about it.”

As if knowing exactly where to look, Luke bends down to Jason's fallen body. On the string to his shorts, he finds a small woman's ring with a single black stone at its center.

"But you just…shit!" Matt lets out a breath then touches his ear. “Yeah, it’s in the line, systems are clear." He waits and listens. "Understood." He lets his eyes close briefly as the communication ends, then looks up to Luke. “Entire building, make it look like an accident --apparently your area of expertise.”

“There’s a lot of innocent people in here. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that. A few hours and the right supplies I could disappear him.”

Matt shakes his head. “You know what happens when you go against their suggestions. Besides, he wasn’t the primary target, just an added bonus.”

"The occasional shakedown, threaten violence, sure, but this is--"

“Careful Luke, remember what they did to us.”

"Yeah well, I'd rather it be me than everyone in here."

“Shut up! You Dumb son of a bitch!” Matt blurts then lowers to a whisper. “You’ll get us both killed, not to mention our families. You know these types better than I probably do; we don’t comply, it’ll be worse.”

“My family has been dead to me for almost as long as I can remember. I can do without them.” Luke returns.

“Yeah well, I can’t. So if you can’t do it for yourself, do it for mine. The two of us come out of here successfully or it’s endgame for both of us. Knowing Jason the best; if there is a way out, it’s here somewhere. Check the bedroom, and I'll work out here."

"You know this was the stupidest deal I ever took," Luke says as he moves through the garbage towards the bedroom.

“Same, but it doesn’t say much that we were both totally out of our minds. They got us off the shit.”

“Rehab this is not,” he continues meticulously looking through the room for anything of interest.

“Been there, done the rehab. This is easier and nothing we wouldn’t do anyway.”

"I call bullshit, Matt. You might be a technical genius --it was you they chose. I'm just the extra muscle that comes along with you. We just happened to be friendly and could get along, so no ‘breaking in the partner' issues."

“Seriously? You never stole anything or did something just to get that next fix?”

Matt turns towards Luke. "I've done worse, as you're now aware. I was just fine where I was! It was your stupid-ass-shit and family that got us into this mess!"

“Yeah and I was the one bringing in the money and finding the scores. You just lounged around and waited. You weren’t fine! You just shot a man point blank in the head and thought nothing of it! Not all the synapses are firing right up there--and you damned well know it. You overdosed while you were supposed to be watching over my son and daughter. You remember that?”

“Still here, aren’t I?”

“Because I called in a favor!” Matt raises his voice, then brings it under control. “I love you, you know that, but you went too far. I couldn’t take you to an E.R. I'd have been arrested, both her and me would have been exposed. So, I opted for some help from a friend of hers.”

"Yeah, great choice there dude, ‘do as we command, or we separate your head from your body and kill your family.' I didn't get the choice."

“I didn’t either.”

“Yeah you did,” Luke interjects. “You could have let me die.”

“Couldn’t do it, I love you.”

"No, you like the fact you can fuck me and I will do it in return for money and drugs. Then you retreat to your rich princess and her two kids."

“Then why are you here?” Matt asks.

“Because I do kind of like living. And when I woke up, whatever they did, won’t let me finish the deed. --There’s nothing here. You?”

“Place is clean as a whistle.”

“So to speak. Jason was a slob. --What about this?” Luke raises a screen revealing the wall covered with drawings in various colors of sharpie marker. “A beautiful mind much? Make any sense to you?”

“Um…” Matt exits the bedroom being careful of his steps over the garbage. “Some of it’s familiar.”

"But it's not important, right? Our job was to ensure the drives got wiped and there were no back-ups, get the necklace and make sure he didn’t leak to his fed friends. Let’s get out of here.”

“Hold up. That’s um…I’ve seen this before.” Matt pulls out his cell phone and takes a picture.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

"Insurance. I know you don't trust them, and I don't either, but there's a reason behind this. They have stuff on me and mine."

"And the only thing they have on me is me and my history, and I don't mind it ending. I'm the patsy in this situation, and you damned well know it."

“That’s not fair.”

"Yeah, it is. I don't have the baggage, and it shows your true colors and where your loyalties lie."

“I love you.”

“Well this whole fucked-up situation shows the opposite, doesn’t it?”

“What do you mean by that?” Matt asks as they start out of the apartment and lock the door behind them.

"Oh, you got stuck into this because you saved your prostitute lover? Just couldn't let him go? We're a dime a dozen; you could have just as easily picked up another on the street corner, probably cheaper.” Luke returns.

“That’s not—"

“It is. That excuse of me being ex-military and ‘you support that and want to help’ is bullshit; it was only in case the wife got curious. You just like fucking a vet and getting high. If you want to ‘support’ me, admit that fucked-up shit. You have been paying for my services for over two years now. I became exclusive; no one else would touch me when you were in town. You'd take me to a two-bit motel room, then leave and hook-up with the wife at a five-star hotel. I am nothing more than what you need to get your mind right to fuck your wife in the good old missionary position. She won't let you do what you want, and she doesn't understand you like a man's touch, that you want to be taken by a man, and she can't do it. Appreciate the sentiment –it is good times. I like the sex, the money, and extras; but that's all it is."

“It’s more than that.”

"Now it is, after your ‘friends’” –he puts in air quotes-- “discovered who I was and that I could be useful to them. If you'd have just left it alone and let me go, I wouldn't have had to…" He nods back towards the apartment implying his murdering Jason.

“You can’t put that on me.”

“I can and will. Doesn’t destroy my career if I get caught with your dick in my hand. It makes it better. But you? Your wife? Different story. As far as I’m concerned, I’m following your orders and your commands since it was you who arranged for this to land on me.” He touches the back of his neck. “We should probably exit separately and not see each other for a while. You’ll find me in the usual location when and if you feel it’s safe. I’ll take care of this.”

At the world’s top college of magic and technology, every day brings a new discovery -and a new disaster. The advanced experiments of the college students tend to be both ambitious and apocalyptic, with the end of the world only prevented by a mysterious time loop, and a small handful of students who retain their memories.

Surviving the loops was hard enough, but now, in his senior year, Vell Harlan must take charge of them, and deal with the fact that the whole world now knows his secrets. Everyone knows about Vell’s death and resurrection, along with the divine game he is a part of. Now Vell must contend with overly curious scientists and evil billionaires hungry for divine power while the daily doomsday cycle bombards him with terrorists, talking elephants, and the Grim Reaper himself -but if he can endure it all, the Last Goddess’s game promises the ultimate prize: power over life itself.

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The new year has brought two very complicated loopers into the fold, and the two upstarts may be more than even Vell Harlan can handle...

There was no acting involved with the smile on Vell’s face. A little reluctance, maybe, but no acting. He had to go see the Marine Biologists, which was rarely fun, but he also got to see Skye, which was almost always fun. She was mixing a few different vials of something when Vell found her, which was usually a sign she was about to put the “almost” in that “almost always fun”.

“Hey, Skye, what’re you mixing?”

“Growth serum,” Skye said. In addition to her Marine Biology expertise, Skye was also a little bit of a mad scientist -technically. She’d flunked out of mad scientist school, but she still carried on with her genetic engineering studies.

“Right, is that the growth serum you used on the sea snake or the one you used on the manatee?”

“Sea snake,” Skye said. Vell breathed a sigh of relief. That was the stable formula. “So what are you going to use that one on? And what are the other guys up to?”

Much like Vell, the other loopers were supposed to have stopped in with Skye before heading to the Marine Biology department proper.

“Well, those two facts are kind of related,” Skye said. “First answer, after your friends told me my compatriots were mixing up kraken bait, I started mixing up this.”

Skye patted her various vials of concoctions. Her fellow Marine Biologists had spent the morning mixing up chum to attract fish, which for some reason also included some icelandic fermented shark that apparently worked as kraken bait. No one bothered questioning why the Marine Biologists would do something like that at this point.

“I’m going to give this growth serum to Mindy, she’s a rehab sea otter, and octopus is her favorite. She should be raring to go to fight a kraken,” Skye said. “Which is exactly what I told your new friend with the glasses, right before she called me a lunatic and said she’d handle things herself. The rest of your friends went off to handle her handling it.”

Vell rubbed the bridge of his nose. He wondered if this was what a migraine felt like.

“That sounds like Alex,” Vell said.

“I don’t really understand how recruitment works in that little club of yours, Vell,” Skye said. “But you might want to try for a do-over.”

“If only,” Vell said. “You seem like you’ve got a handle on things. I’m going to go handle them handling her handling it.”

“And I’ll be along soon to handle you handling them handling...I lost track,” Skye said. She gave Vell a kiss on the cheek and then started walking him towards the door. “After all the handling’s been handled, you want to have dinner tonight?”

“I’ll try,” Vell said. “We’ll see how things go.”

***

Things were going well, relatively speaking. For everyone but Alex, at least. The rebellious new looper was dangling in the air, heels swinging, as Kim held her off the ground in an ironclad grip.

“So this is the approach you decided to go with?”

“It’s working, isn’t it?”

“This would be considered assault in some places,” Alex said.

“Yeah yeah, it’s for your own good,” Kim said. “You get another formal complaint and you’re expelled, right? Michael Watkins files formal complaints when people sneeze too loudly.”

The patriarch of the Marine Biology department had a long list of grievances against everyone and everything other than himself, and he liked to make sure the whole world knew it. He’d filed thirteen so far this year, and they were on day two.

“The Dean would understand my reasoning,” Alex said.

“I assure you that he would not,” Kim said.

“Either way, you can put her down now,” Vell said. “We have a plan that does not involve the giant sea otter.”

Kim gently lowered Alex to the ground, and though she eyed the door, Alex did not leave yet.

“But I want the giant sea otter,” Hawke said. “I want to pet it.”

“We all want to pet the giant sea otter, Hawke, but a kaiju battle is a less-than-ideal solution,” Vell said. “Prevention beats a cure. If they have kraken bait, we just get rid of their bait.”

“That was what I was going to do,” Alex protested.

“Yeah, but you were going to do it bad,” Samson said.

“I was not-”

“Do you need me to pick you up again?” Kim asked. “Because I’ll do it. My arms never get tired, kiddo.”

“Enough,” Vell said. “Listen to me. Alex, the Marine Biologists don’t know you yet, so you’re going to be in charge of sabotaging the bait while the rest of us sneak in and distract them by pretending to sabotage something else.”

“I see,” Alex said. “A sensible plan.”

“So the lady who’s done nothing but go rogue gets the most important job in the whole scheme?” Samson asked. “Is that smart?’

“Yes, because of the whole ‘they’ve never seen her before’ thing,” Vell said. “Also, before you act like she’s getting the glamorous job, let me finish. Alex, you’re going to get rid of their rotting fish offal-”

Vell stuck a hand in his bookbag and reached deep into the extra-dimensional storage space Lee had magically built into it. An entire arsenal of relics and remainders from past apocalypses was at his disposal, and the thing he was looking for magically appeared in his grasp at a thought. He pulled his hand out and withdrew a bucket of slimy gray viscera that stunk up the whole room as soon as it appeared.

“-by replacing it with this rotting fish offal,” Vell said. He handed over the stinking bucket to Alex. “No kraken bait included.”

Alex tried not to hurl as she grabbed the handle of chum bucket. Something inside the bucket writhed as it changed hands.

“You just had this lying around?”

“Yes.”

“Is it too late to trade roles with Samson?”

“Yes. Let’s get going, the faster we get this done, the less time you spend holding the bucket,” Vell said. That got Alex moving faster than any motivational speech ever could.

She hustled off in the direction of the Marine Biologist’s supplies while Vell and the others headed for the docks, where the scientists were gathered. The entire crew let out an audible groan as soon as they saw the loopers approaching.

“Good morning Dr. Watkins, long time no see.”

“Doctor Professor Michael Watkins,” he insisted, as he always did. Michael’s obsession with both his titles was obnoxious, but always good for a few seconds of distraction. “What have you come to ruin this time?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to say hi,” Vell said. “It’s been a while, and I haven’t even properly introduced myself to Michael Jr. yet.”

“Don’t make direct eye contact with me,” Michael Jr said.

“Okay. Is that like a personal preference thing, or just because you hate me?”

“Because I hate you,” Michael Jr clarified.

“Alright then. What are you guys up to? Already taking a huge expedition this early in the year?”

“Yes, we’re seeking out the fabled land of Nunya Bizness,” Michael Jr said.

“Junior, please,” the elder Michael scolded. “We are his intellectual superiors, our banter cannot be so juvenile. Try again, and do better.”

“Hmm. We’re going on a journey to find...someone who cares about you?”

“An improvement,” Michael Sr said. “I appreciate the implication that Vell is inherently unlovable, but your verbiage should be more scathing to wit.”

“Thanks dad. I’ll keep working on it.”

The father-son bonding moment would’ve been almost heartwarming had it not been centered entirely on insulting Vell. He ignored the casual insults and kept working on the distraction. Alex was still weaving among the boats behind them, working on sabotaging their kraken bait.

“While you’re working on your insults, uh, maybe keep in mind I am, provably, at least a little lovable,” Vell said. “I mean, you work with my girlfriend. Sometimes. You’re leaving her out of this expedition, apparently, which is rude.”

“She’ll keep herself busy,” Michael Sr said. “Mixing concoctions or whatever it is she does. Besides, we don’t have room for her anyway.”

“You are taking literally every boat on campus,” Hawke said. He almost raised his hand to point at the fleet, and then remember Alex was still weaving among them. “You could bring like eighty more people.”

“We need the extra room for...fish,” Junior said. “We’re going to...catch a lot of fish.”

“Why are you saying that like it’s a lie, that’s what you’re doing,” Samson said.

“Our plans are none of your concern,” Michael Senior snapped.

Behind the crowd of Marine Biologists, Alex’s head popped up from behind a boat. She gave a thumbs up and held up an empty bucket before dashing off.

“Actually you know what he’s right we don’t need to know any of this,” Vell said. “Bye Michaels!”

The two Michaels did not bother to say goodbye, only scoffing haughtily as Vell took his friends and left. By the time Vell and company were slinking back into their secret lair, the Marine Biologists had set out, deploying their oversized fleet for a glorified fishing trip. Vell wondered how they’d gotten approval to appropriate the school’s entire research fleet, and then realized they probably hadn’t. Dr. Professor Michael Watkins was the type to ask forgiveness, not permission. Actually, he wasn’t the type to ask for forgiveness either. He just did what he wanted, consequences be damned. Vell had a lot of those kinds of people in his life.

“Alright, good job,” Hawke said to Alex. “Got it done and you don’t even smell that much like fish.”

“Thankfully for us all, I’m incredibly good at magic,” Alex said. She snapped her fingers, and the empty bucket flew across the room and slammed into the open storage locker, which also open and shut magically. “No better way to avoid getting your hands dirty than not using them.”

“Oh, great,” Vell said. “We’ve been lacking magic know-how since Lee graduated.”

“You should’ve mentioned that earlier,” Alex said. “I’ll happily assume the role of magic expert.”

“Oh, it’s not like a role, we just do what we’re best at,” Vell said. “I’m the rune guy, uh, and I’m in charge, Kim handles the punching, Hawke and Samson handle communications and computer technology-”

“About as irrelevant as you’d expect, most of the time,” Hawke said. Samson nodded in agreement.

“And you just speak up whenever you’ve got magic know-how,” Vell said. “Just do what you can when you need to.”

“An informal and vaguely communist organizational structure, but I suppose it can be effective,” Alex said. “Will that be all for the day? I have coursework I’d like to catch up on.”

“Yeah, we should be good, go do some studying. Schoolwork is still important.”

Alex nodded and then shouldered her pack to leave. It jingled.

For a moment, Vell contemplated jingling. Her backpack had not jingled earlier, which was suspicious. Things didn’t start jingling randomly, but there were also a lot of reasons things could start jingling. There might not be a problem, and even if there was a problem, maybe it didn’t have to be Vell’s problem.

Vell rolled his eyes. Everything ended up his problem. Might as well have it be on purpose.

“Alex. Why did your bag jingle?”

Alex immediately stopped in her tracks and shifted her backpack to the shoulder further from Vell.

“Is that any of your business?”

“It’s a little bit my business,” Vell said. “And it became more my business when you started acting suspicious.”

“Incorrect on both counts,” Alex said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alex, what did you do?”

Alex did not dignify Vell with a response, but she did stop in her tracks when Kim placed herself between Alex and the exit.

“All this for some loose change?”

“If that’s all it is, show me a handful of quarters,” Kim said. “I’ll get out of your way. I’ll even say sorry.”

There were no eyes on Kim’s face to glare with, but the intensity of her voice carried the message all the same. Alex froze in place. Kim did, after all, handle the punching.

“Fine. I acted in compliance with rule two.”

“Rule two?”

“Yes, your rule two,” Alex said, as if she was offended they had forgotten. “Without significant change to the timeline, events will repeat themselves.”

“Oh god, what did you do?”

“I had concerns that your plan to switch out the bait was lacking,” Alex said. “If there were bait stockpiles we weren’t aware of, or any residue was left over-”

Kim lost patience, grabbed Alex by the backpack, and stuck her hand into the pouch the jingling had come from. She pulled out a handful of loose metal components, most of them still stained with engine grease.

“Alex! Did you sabotage the boats?”

“Only the engines,” Alex said. “And all non-critically. They’ll work long enough to get offshore before the Marine Biologists realize the problem and turn around.”

“Alex,” Kim said. She snatched the new looper by the shoulders and held her aloft for the second time today. “They’re run by a megalomaniac! They’re not going to turn around!”

“Well that’s not my fault.”

Kim slammed Alex back onto the ground and pushed her away.

“God, I can’t believe you’re making me rescue Marine Biologists,” Kim snapped. In spite of that protest, Kim still ran out the door and towards the beach.

“They’ll be fine,” Alex protested.

“They took every boat for two-thousand miles and now they’re dead in the water,” Samson said. “What part of that sounds fine?”

“I’m sorry, aren’t these Marine Biologists supposed to be the villains. Why do you care what happens to them?”

“They’re not evil, they’re just dicks,” Vell groaned. “We say mean things about them, we don’t leave them to die adrift at sea.”

Vell ran off to save the Marine Biologists, though even he would admit he was doing so reluctantly.

***

“You know, when you called me,” Skye said. “I was really hoping it’d be for a date.”

“Is this not a romantic evening?”

Skye managed a chuckle at that as her giant sea otter towed another boat back to shore. Between the power of modern technology and the power of a genetically modified giant otter, they had been able to locate all of the Marine Biology department’s drifting boats and start towing them back to shore. There was only one boat left to save now, and Skye had saved the worst for last.

“Next time bring some candles,” Skye advised. “And leave the Michaels out of it.”

“I’m pretty sure I can do both of those.”

“Aren’t I a lucky girl,” Skye said. She hopped on the back of Mindy the giant sea otter and headed out for one last rescue mission. Vell waved goodbye and turned his attention to the rapidly growing fleet of disabled boats. He had to find a way to return all those missing parts and repair the damage without anyone getting suspicious. Or more suspicious than they already were, at least. An entire fleet of ships didn’t just randomly stop working. He was not good at improvising elaborate cover stories, so he turned to his friends.

“Okay, what’s our cover for this one?”

“What cover?” Kim asked. “Alex did it. Why bother saying anything else?”

“I don’t know, I just thought-”

“Vell, if it weren’t for you she’d be expelled already,” Kim said. “And instead of appreciating that and behaving, she disobeyed you and sabotaged school equipment. She’s endangering people, Vell.”

“I kind of agree,” Hawke said. “We’ve already got a lot to deal with, Vell, and Alex is going to make it worse. Let’s just let her face the consequences.”

“Oh wait, actually, I have an idea,” Samson said. “What if instead of Alex, we find a way to blame this on Helena?”

“What?”

“Look, Helena’s probably more evil and destructive than Alex is, right?” Samson said. “But she kept her shit on the first loop where there’s no evidence, so it’ll be hard to get rid of her. We can blame this on Helena and get her expelled, and then Alex will do another dumb thing tomorrow and get herself expelled too. Alex is bad, Helena’s bad, we use them against each other and we don’t have to deal with either of them!”

Kim turned to Vell, expecting to find him already formulating an idea. Instead, she found him with a hand on his chin and wrinkles on his forehead.

“Oh, he’s thinking,” Hawke said. “Four wrinkles already.”

“He better be thinking of ways we can ditch them,” Samson said. Knowing Vell, there was a decent chance he was going to start yapping about some plan to redeem both women and make them better people. Samson would probably be convinced by it, so he took time to hate the idea while he still could.

“You know, just once I’d like to beat you to the scene of a disaster,” Dean Lichman said. He shuffled up to the docks and examined the arrays of boats with a sigh. “First a hole in a laboratory wall, now an entire fleet disabled. What was it this time?”

All eyes turned to Vell. He spent a few more seconds in forehead-wrinkling thought, and then snapped to attention.

“I think it was laziness, actually,” Vell said. “Somebody tried to use magic to repair all the engines at once and it ended up backfiring.”

“Vell-”

“We’ll see about finding if the pieces got teleported somewhere, or they all disintegrated, or what,” Vell said, cutting off Kim’s protest. “It looks like they all got warped somewhere, though, so hopefully we’ll be able to get all the engines fixed.”

“Very well,” Dean Lichman said. “I’ll leave you to your...whatever it is you do.”

The undead faculty head nodded deferentially and then walked away from the docks before Michael got back and made the bad situation much worse. Kim and her two human friends huddled in around Vell.

“What the fuck was that, Vell,” Samson demanded. “That doesn’t get rid of Alex or Helena!”

“I know,” Vell said. Kim tilted her metal head and stared at Vell like she was trying to see through him, and she did.

“You have a plan, don’t you?”

“Yes. And not just a plan,” Vell said. “I would go so far as to call it a scheme.”

“Oh, now I’m intrigued,” Kim said, as she rubbed her hands together with anticipation. Vell was not generally the scheming type.

“Alright, well, step one,” Vell began hesitantly. “We need Alex and Helena to stay.”

“Not off to a great start, bud,” Samson said.

“It gets better,” Vell mumbled. He hoped it did, at least.

https://preview.redd.it/zrto1tzdlawc1.jpg?width=1410&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=8be07ad6121f7bb71c5cc4be801f1ae480dd556f

Synopsis:

Frankie Dee is trying to save her family's struggling newspaper. But with subscriptions declining every quarter, she hatches a plan to bring in new readers. She hires a local podcaster and fortune teller with a growing audience to launch a new astrology section in the paper.

Misty Summers is growing a brand and trying to shape a future for herself. And while she's had plenty of luck with her witchy business, Misty remains unlucky in love.

If the stars align, maybe these lucky ladies can partner in more ways than one.

My Discord

Buy me a cup of coffee (if you want)

Chapter One:

(Frankie)

“My answer remains the same, Mr. Cutlow. I’m not selling the paper. It’s been in my family for three generations, and it’ll stay that way,” I said, blowing the bangs from my eyes again. What was that? The fifth time during this phone call?

“Ms. Ricci, I don’t think you’ll find a better offer than what I’ve sent you today,” Mr. Cutlow said, probably reclining at his desk in a Manhattan office overlooking one of the more famous avenues.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose as a light knock at the door pulled my focus away from the infuriating man. I was getting tired of being polite. This was the fourth offer for my newspaper I’d received this year from Aidan Global Capital. They were doing their best to scoop up the few remaining dailies in Maine, and I just wasn’t having it.

The squeaky door cracked open slowly, and a man twice my age and half my hair length peeked inside. His face was scrunched in pity like he was watching someone sitting in a dentist's chair, a place I’d almost rather be.

He eyed me with a cautious look that let me know something more important than Mr. Cutlow needed my attention.

“Fortunately, Mr. Cutlow, I don’t need a better offer. The Portland Lighthouse-Journal isn’t for sale. Thank you for your time, but I have a news meeting to get to. Have a nice day, bub.”

Without waiting for his protest, I hung up the dated yellow-stained phone.

“Another offer gone all stove up to hell?” the man standing in my doorway said with a snicker.

I grinned.

“You know it, Richard. Watcha need?”

“My editorial for the Sunday paper is all set if you want to give it the once over,” he said.

Richard was a large man who was never seen without baggy tan pants, a brown belt, and a striped button-down shirt of some kind. The top of his head was almost bare, but he still kept a ponytail about half the length of mine on the back of his scalp.

He wore boxy black glasses that were twice the size of my own.

“Sounds good. Is it in GPS?”

“Yeah. The slug is ‘unhousedED’,” he said, turning to go.

I sat back down to my Macbook Pro which was at least 10 years out of date and still chugging along with bubble gum, tin foil, and whatever else our IT girl could cram inside to get a few more days of service from it.

Finding the article right where Richard said it’d be, I took a deep breath and remembered our last editorial meeting that’d nearly devolved into a shouting match between Londa, our Features Editor, and Richard, our Opinion Editor. Our Publisher, and my father, Franky Ricci, Jr., was rubbing his head and trying to keep his blood pressure low like the doctor told him at every appointment. And I had to play referee as I so often did.

My eyes scanned the article and brushed over words like “affordable housing,” “rehab,” and “clearing camps,” terms that always seemed to show up when the topic of unhoused folks in Portland was being discussed. It was an increasingly common topic over the last few years.

I read the article silently to myself and then pulled the laptop onto my legs as I leaned back into my brown leather office chair that squeaked even louder than the door. My reporters and editors often joked they knew I was in the office by two signs.

First, I never left the newsroom. It was my home, and I was always here.

Second, my chair squeaking could be heard all the way on the other side of the office. Tonya even heard it in the IT room if the police scanner wasn’t too noisy.

My green lamp flickered, and I sighed.

“Hang in there, little bulb. The office supplies arrive tomorrow. . . I think,” I said. For all the bluster I carried when rejecting Mr. Cutlow’s offers to buy my newspaper, it wasn’t like we were in a good spot, financially.

Reading the editorial aloud to myself in a whisper, I went through it again. Richard laid the groundwork for our stance on a new city ordinance that would be voted on next Tuesday, giving the Portland Parks Department and Health and Human Services Department the joint authority to declare a camp of unhoused individuals unsanitary and clear it.

The editorial noted that our city just opened a new shelter in North Deering, and it had enough beds to provide adequate space for unhoused individuals throughout the city. And the North Deering shelter opened just two months after a separate shelter for asylum-seeking families was finished in Bayside. Neither project would have been possible without state and federal grants. And neither was enough to solve the city’s issues.

“Welcome to Portland,” I muttered. “Where the only thing more plentiful than Massholes are short-term rentals.”

Clearing my throat, I came to one of the last sentences and continued reading it aloud, “It’s imperative that the Legislature continue to examine our city’s shelter needs and increase funding for all the people other Maine towns don’t want to house as they send them here instead.”

That probably needs to be reworked a little, but the rest of the article is good, I thought, making a few notes in an email for Richard.

My phone chimed with a calendar notification that said, “Book Club.”

“Oh shit! How is it already 7?!” I groaned, getting out of my chair and grabbing my long black jacket from the door. Late April in southern Maine meant it might be nice and sunny during the day, maybe even warmish as winter slowly receded, and mud season started to gradually pull in spring. But as the sun went down, it’d get chilly again.

I closed my laptop, shut off my flickering lamp, and closed the office door behind me as I made my way into the newsroom.

Three rows of computers and desks sat half-filled, the result of voluntary buyouts and a round of layoffs.

Our sports editor, a Latina baseball superfan named Isabelle, flagged me down before I’d made it halfway to the exit. She had a signed Boston Blue Sox ball sitting in a glass case beside her monitor.

“Hey Frankie, I’ve got a profile on Portland High School’s new men’s basketball coach, but the superintendent is asking that we wait until the official announcement this weekend before we publish the story. How do you want to handle that?”

“He’s the guy from Vermont, right? The one you confirmed with two different sources?”

Isabelle nodded, her golden earrings occasionally poking out of her short brown hair when she moved her head just right.

“Do any of the TV stations have the story yet?”

My sports editor scoffed.

“The TV stations hardly touch sports. Channel 7 only shows up for Sea Pups games on opening day. Channel 9 has more stories about Boston sports than Portland games. And I’m not even sure Channel 14 even runs sports stories anymore. I’m pretty sure all their corporate owners determined local sports coverage wasn’t profitable enough,” she said, putting hands on her hips.

I nodded. That checked out, actually. I didn’t watch the TV stations very often, but I couldn’t recall the last time I saw a story that wasn’t about Boston sports.

“The superintendent uses a lot of executive sessions for his school board meetings. If I’m being honest, he’s a pain in the ass, and I doubt he’ll stick around for more than another year or two,” I said, rubbing my chin.

Isabelle just smiled. She knew where I was going.

“Fuck him. Run the piece whenever you want,” I said, turning to leave.

The sound of the police scanner perked my ears, officers responding to a shooting on Forest Avenue. I turned to our evening city editor, a recent hire from Houston. Her curly red hair was pulled back into space buns, and a cute sweater covered most of her creamy skin.

“Already on it. I’m texting the PIO now,” she said.

“Thanks, Emma,” I said.

We’d hired her a couple of months ago, our first trans editor here at the paper. She’d been looking for a way out of her home state that was increasingly working to make her life hell. I liked Emma. She didn’t complain about working the late shift, her copy was always clean, and she knew the cops and courts like the back of her hand. I tried not to hold her broadcast background against her but teased her about it occasionally.

“I’m surprised to see you leaving before 9 p.m.,” Emma said, looking at her phone while she texted Sgt. Banks with the Portland Police Department.

“Hey, radio girl, you can give me shit about my hours when you’ve been here longer than six months. Until then, you keep your remarks quiet, or I’ll throw you at the Portland Public Radio newsroom. Their managing editor is twice as scary as me, and I’m pretty sure he reads those wizard books you hate at least twice a year.”

“Holy shit, Frankie. I hope wherever you’re going has tranquilizers and comfy blankets,” she said, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

I shook my head, fighting a grin.

“Just track down that shooting. Send Dillon over if it turns into something, and there’s still a scene,” I said.

Walking outside into chillier air than I expected (wasn’t it 60 earlier today?), I pulled out my earbuds as a firetruck went by, sirens blaring.

Looking behind me to make sure no one in the office needed anything, I popped my shoulders and started walking down Congress Street.

Behind me, the Portland Observatory stood tall, plunging most of my side of the street into shadow. Our newsroom sat in a blue shack next to the defunct marine signal tower shaped to look like a lighthouse. It was 86 feet tall and stood as a beautiful piece of marine history, seated right here in Munjoy Hill.

I pictured Dad carrying me on his shoulders as we stood next to the outside railing at the very top, overlooking Portland’s harbor, as well as the rest of the city I’d called home for all 30 years of my life. Seagulls screaming obscenities as they flew by, hunting for a scrap of trash to fight over, the smell of low tide (an acquired taste), and if you were lucky, a harbor full of sailboats, Casco Bay ferries, and cargo ships filling the water from the harbor out to Fort Georges. I could sit up there for hours and just look at the water, but Dad’s shoulders would get tired, or someone from the newsroom would page him.

Even now, I still hear him asking, “Did I ever tell you the story of how your great-great grandfather paid Captain Moody $5 every year to use this very tower and keep an eye on competing ships entering the harbor?”

When I was little, I loved the story. I had every word memorized by the age of nine. As a teenager, I rolled my eyes when he’d tell it during one of our many visits to the observatory. And in my 20s, I just started smiling and appreciating the story for what it was, his way of reminding me our family had called this city home for centuries. And God willing, we’d continue to for as long as we could if these goddamn “luxury” real estate developers didn’t push us out of the city first.

I scrolled on my phone until I found the audiobook I was supposed to finish last night. If I hadn’t gotten a call from a legislator who was pissed about a piece we ran on his speeding tickets, I’d have finished the book. Instead, I argued with the lawmaker for an hour about how his speeding tickets were public knowledge and in the public interest for us to report on. I sent him links to stories we’d written about lawmakers from both sides of the aisle when they had a brush with law enforcement.

Neither of us was happy when the call finally ended, a staple of my job.

It’d be about a 20-minute walk to the brewery the book club was meeting at, and I had just that much time left in the final chapter.

The book we were reading this month was a creepy vampire-ish novel called House of Hunger, about a girl who accepts a job selling her blood to a rich woman in order to get off the streets.

She moves into a creepy manor far from home with other girls who sell their blood for the rich woman to drink. I’d enjoyed it so far, but the ending was a roller coaster ride that left me breathless.

Just before I got my other earbud in, a man in a tattered gray jacket pushing a shopping cart asked if I could spare a couple of bucks. I told him I didn’t have any cash, which was mostly true. I only carried cash if I was going to my weed store, which still didn’t take debit cards in the year of our Lord 2024.

“Yeah, okay,” he muttered and continued pushing his cart toward Monument Square.

I walked down the hill and turned onto Washington Ave, all the while mentally screaming at Marion to run! Just run!

My heart was thumping hard as I made my way to a brewery called Portland Craft Distilling. It was a gray brick building with an entrance in the back.

I finished the book just before I walked inside, wiping some sweat from my forehead. The brewery wasn’t packed. A few couples sat here and there with drinks, chatting about their day. On a little stage by the entrance, two men with acoustic guitars were doing a sound check. It made me wonder how we’d talk about the book with them playing in the background.

Large wooden tables and metal stools separated me from the bar. I wandered over, and the bartender, a man named Chris, asked if I wanted to order something.

I asked for a cider and some chips and salsa after looking at the menu.

“Do you know if a book club is meeting here tonight?” I asked, scratching my arm. This was supposed to be my first meeting, and I’d checked the location three times this afternoon like it might have suddenly vanished into an alternate dimension if I didn’t keep a close eye on it.

Chris finished pouring a beer and smiled at me.

“The book club? It’s meeting in the Barrel Room, back through those doors behind the stage. It should be quiet enough that none of you will hear the music,” he said as I handed him my debit card.

I peeked back into the Barrel Room, and nobody was there yet. So I decided to sit at the bar for a few minutes, not wanting it to be too obvious that I was the first to arrive at the meeting. I emailed one of the book club leaders a couple of weeks ago, asking if they were still taking members.

A bubbly woman named Diana had responded and told me, “Of course!” She told me what they were reading this month and gave me the time and place for the next meeting.

The brewery was getting a little louder as a large group of men in leather jackets came in. I raised an eyebrow.

Guess they’re here for the music, I thought, sipping on my blackberry cider.

I turned back to my phone, checking my work emails and seeing the city had responded to a FOIA request I sent last week. Before I could read their response, a woman took the seat next to mine and plopped a book down on the bar, the very book I’d just finished listening to minutes ago.

Looking up, I found the prettiest woman I’d seen perhaps in all my life staring back at me. She had a purple bandana covering her short curly brown hair and green eyes that seemed to smile at me. Her lips were painted a soft pink to match her eyeshadow.

A nosering in the shape of a little goat hung from her right nostril. Her pale skin had a few freckles on each cheek.

She smoothed her emerald wrap dress that complimented her eyes, and in a warm smoky voice asked, “Can I help you?”

My new friend at the bar didn’t sound angry or annoyed at my staring. The way her lips curled at the end, she almost seemed amused.

“I, uh, your book. Yes! I was staring at your book,” I said, finding my tongue tied now of all times. Arguing with a state senator? Child’s play. Talking to pretty girls at the bar? A lyrical labyrinth full of land mines.

She chuckled.

“Well, my book is on the counter. And your eyes were. . . more in this area,” she said, circling her face with a couple of fingers.

My cheeks burned.

“Sorry. I’m waiting for this book club to start, and I’m a little nervous. I’ve never been in a book club before,” I said, scratching my arm again.

“Well, you’re in luck. I’m also here for the book club. I was just going to order a drink before heading into the back room. You can wait for me if you want. But if you continue staring, I’m gonna have you buy my drink.”

I nearly choked on my spit.

Clearing my throat, I said, “Sorry about that. I’m Frankie Dee, by the way.”

“Dawn Summers,” she said, looking at the drink menu.

I just sat there awkwardly, trying to look anywhere other than at the pretty brunette to my left. My eyes decided to take a new sudden interest in an empty table. It was an amazing piece of lumber. Was it pine? I wondered if it had a cool story. My brain imagined an entire backstory for this single table while I waited for the bartender to get Dawn a Long Island iced tea.

She touched my arm which sent a jolt of electricity straight to my core.

“You can stop staring at the table now. I’ve already paid for my drink,” she said as we moved toward the Barrel Room, and I prayed to God that my tongue wouldn’t trip over itself for the next hour.

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Humans are Weird – In the Groove

Original Post: http://www.authorbettyadams.com/bettys-blog/humans-are-weird-in-the-groove

“How are you so good at this?” Five Clicks demanded as he shifted his datapad to the side and peered down from his perch at the Undulate poised, half on the surface of the table, half on the damp stone below it.

The Undulate, Rollstotheleft or something, Five Clicks was still having trouble remembering the names of his new engineering staff, was the only representative of his species at the long, oblong table. Several Shatar comprised the bulk of the crew, mostly cousins under the fifteenth degree under the supervision of a few single digit sisters, lining the table for most of its’ length. Their smooth, dry hands folded the complex shapes necessary for the carry pods and inserted the various supplies with delicate precision. However not even the single digit sisters were making half the time and accuracy that the usually lackadaisical Undulate was. His pile of supplies was the second largest at the table and the inspection flight that Five Clicks fronted for was swooping off on their third trip to the shipment bay.

“I really don’t see why you are so surprised,” the Undulate said as a flowing line of appendages passed a folded packet down the length of his body, tucking in the various supplies as it went before the last appendage dropped the completed item in the pile at his rear.

Although to be perfectly honest Five Clicks had never been able to accurately tell an Undulate’s leading end from his lagging end.

“This is just folding after all,” the Undulate said. “If there is one thing my species is optimized for it is folding.”

“You have no spatial reasoning!” Five Clicks exclaimed.

“Incorrect,” the Undulate stated in a prim tone as he tossed another completed pack onto the pile, “what we lack is the ability to calculate the vectors of incoming projectiles. As soon as an item is in our grasp we have excellent spatial reasoning.”

“Well the humans are still faster,” Five Clicks said with a sigh.

“Yes,” the Undulate in an amused tone, “the three humans are managing to significantly outperform me by combining their efforts.”

Five Clicks sighed again and flitted over to check on the Shatar. A cousin, small by female Shatar standards was meticulously placing a respirator into its assigned fold before reaching for and empty packet that had clearly held a water purifier. She gave a click of distress when she realized it was empty, but before Five Clicks could help her a sister swept up and replaced the pack, only pausing to stroke antenna with the distressed cousin.

“Our Winged friends will be so happy when they get these packs,” the sister said with a hint of pride in her voice. “You are being such a good help!”

The cousin chirped happily and accepted the packet and the caress with good grace. Five Clicks was about to confirm the sister’s statement but the sister tilted her head at him and set her mandibles in a stern angle. Five Clicks backed off. He wasn’t sure exactly why the sisters were so protective of the lesser cousins, but he had learned to respect their fury if you disturbed them. It was a sign of the trust and friendship that existed between the base of Winged and the local hives that they were allowed to meet any cousin past the fifteenth degree at all, let alone that the fathers risked sending them out of the gardens to help with something so stressful. Five Clicks wasn’t going to mess that up by offending an eighth sister.

“The humans,” Five Clicks turned at the soft click and fluttered down to land on the shoulder of the senior sister.

“What about the humans?” Five Clicks asked glancing at his notes, “Ah, Third Sister?”

“Fifth Sister,” she replied dryly, “I was wondering if you had thought to check their hydration and nutrition status?”

Five Clicks squinted up at her.

“As I am neither their medic nor their commanding officer, no, I have not,” he said, wrinkling his nose in confusion.

“It might be worth your efforts,” Fifth Sister said, dislodging him from her shoulder with a shake. “Given the essential and imperative nature of our work the humans are likely to suppress their trained safety protocols.”

Five Clicks tried to make sense of that. He glared over at the three humans hunched over the end of the table. One was folding the packs with the speed of the Undulate, then tossing it to the second who filled it with supplies with the delicacy of the Shatar. The full pack was then passed to the third human who sealed it and stacked it for the Winged to gather.

“And what danger do they need protocols to defend against in a Shatar garden on an established colony world?” Five Clicks asked.

“Dehydration and fatigue strain mostly,” Fifth Sister said. “That and the complications of slips, trips and falls. Once a human gets too fatigued the dangers begin to multiply.”

Five Clicks sighed and fluttered over to the trio. He knew better than to question a warning from a senior sister.

“Human Friend Fred?” he asked.

The human folding the packets glanced up at him and grinned.

“It’s Fiona,” she said with a laugh, “but yes?”

“Have you availed yourself of the refreshments we have provided yet?” Five Clicks asked. “I am told that humans find the savory juices particularly refreshing.”

“We will,” Human Friend Fiona said with a dismissive toss of her head. “We just got in the groove.”

A murmur of agreement came from the other two humans. Five Clicks had not idea what a “groove” could mean in this context, but now that he was looking he could see the clear indicators of dehydration and hyper-focus on the humans’ faces. Luckily those were rather universal in mammals. Five Clicks reviewed the instructions in his mind, find the lowest ranked human physically, preferably one with an injury or a physical weakness. All three humans were healthy and sound but one was significantly older than the others. Five Clicks made aggressive eye contact as the manual suggested and repeated.

“The savory juices are particularly refreshing.”

The human he had selected twitched and Five Clicks witnessed the moment his meaning was processed. The human straightened and stretched.

“I could use some savory juice,” the human said in a tone of obviously enforced duty.

The other two humans paused and looked longingly at the pile of completed packs, but they sighed and stood with various noises popping from their massive joints.

“Juice break it is,” Human Friend Fiona said with a sigh.

“We have the groove now,” the third human offered soothingly. “We’ll be able to jump right back in after a break.”

The three massive mammals wandered towards the food table and Five Clicks turned his attention to the next problem on his list.

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Science Fiction Books By Betty Adams

Amazon (Kindle, Paperback, Audiobook)

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Check out my books at any of these sites and leave a review! "Flying Sparks" - a novel set in the "Dying Embers" universe is now avaliable on all sites!

Please go leave a review on Amazon! It really helps and keeps me writing becase tea and taxes don't pay themselves sadly!

Previous | First Chapter | Next

Tobi and Kiala put on their blindfolds at Akio's request. "How is this going to help us see iko?" Tobi asked.

His first impressions of the old man, had him sketched out. He couldn't predict what he might do next. His instincts were right, as a tiny pebble, struck the both of them in the back. Irritating the pair.

"Why would you-" Kiala started to say but was cut off by the Elder.

"Amateurs that can't even sense a pebble, without their eyes, have no right to complain." He taunted.

Kiala sealed her lips, frowning with frustration. "One day I'm going to..." She murmured to herself.

Akio hopped up onto a platform, sitting with his legs crossed and made himself comfortable. "From sunrise to sunset, you'll mainly be training with these blindfolds for the next several weeks. You're eyes cloud too much judgment, diminishing the potential of all your other senses."

They braced themselves, as they felt, a tremendous amount of energy, rising below them. Then, jumped up, just in time to escape a ground implosion, spitting dust and rocks in the air all around them.

"What the h-" Tobi struggled to speak, unable to continue, due to a dense stone, knocking the wind out of him. Kiala, beside him, frantically shook her head around, feeling something amiss. With their blindfolds on, it was hard to tell, but surrounding them, stopped in motion, were the stones and rocks, kicked up by the implosion.

"Use your senses, figure out, where next, I will attack." He ran his iko in rhythm through, the stones and rocks and all around them, throwing off their senses.

Spontaneously, several stones or pebbles would sail, into the back of their heads, backs, thighs, and arms. Frustrating Kiala, even more. She raised her energy, about to turn up a gear.

However, Akio shook his finger at her in disappointment. "Ah, ah, ah! No! There's no need to transform yet, during our lessons. Let the pain seep in, then use it to sense the next stone."

Kiala gritted her teeth, regretting agreeing to train with this lunatic. "Fine!"

She took a deep breath and focused on anything moving unnaturally, within her vicinity. As she closed her eyes, she started to first picture her iko. What it would look like. What it would be like.

A violet and ash-colored, hurricane began swirling around her, with a calming and soothing breeze. She looked around her, as a vision of an ethereal plane unfolded. Revealing a room with dozens of combat androids, pointing non-lethal weapons in her direction.

Kiala shed a tear. It was the moment she first got her powers. Her mother was terrified of putting her through training early, but it was why Saphyra was there. To always remind them of the mission.

Which she succeeded in because, before her being in that situation, Saphyra had told, the young version of her that if she didn't use her powers to get through the doors ahead, she would never see her mother again.

The feeling of raising her hands terrified her, yet she was still able to imagine fire, ice, electricity, stones & telekinetic force, to obliterate the enemies before her. Purple and reddish veins, flowed like lava through her arms, as the feeling of losing her mom, at four years old, traumatized her.

Kiala chuckled, wondering how she fell for that. However there was one detail, she overlooked. The same swirling hurricane appeared before her for a second, when she was a child. Manifesting all of the elements for her, and carrying it in the direction she wanted it to. The epiphany hit her like a bullet.

"That's my iko!" She yelled out loud, rubbing her right arm with frost, as it stung from a pebble the Elder struck her with, while she was in deep focus.

Akio, stroked his beard, chuckling. "Have you figured it out?"

She ignored him and continued focusing on her discovery. He smiled, not wanting to bother her further, then turned his attention towards Tobi, who was still struggling.

Midway through, he lost his patience and began swinging indiscriminately, hoping to catch the pebbles and stones, before they striked him, but to no avail. Each one, struck him cordially until he started to slowly descend, due to fatigue.

Akio shook his head, looking back at Kiala, who had just dodged her first pebble. His eyes grew wide in excitement. Then he grinned menacingly, knowing she could finally see it. A wall, truly impossible to climb.

Making Kiala sweat, as she just noticed the amount of flares of iko, running all around her, but mainly, the titanic amount, swirling around the Elder. "He's a monster." She whispered to herself, dodging two more stones, sailing overhead and below. "How is that even possible."

Akio laughed out loud. "You can finally see it, that's good, that's good. Well done! Truly a prodigy."

He then directed his next words toward Tobi. "Are you going to let your daughter outshine you?"

Tobi's rage boiled over, but thanks to habits from old anger management sessions as a kid, he decided to take deep breaths instead and took his mind somewhere else. He thought about the training, his favourite character went through. Chuckling to himself and realizing that his favourite MC went through something similar. Blindfolded and getting hit for training.

'But what was the reason?'

Tobi had always tried to find lessons and true meanings of the scenes he had witnessed, read, or watched, ever since he read his first book, given to him by his ESL teacher. Telling him one thing. "Knowledge is power."

However, there was something, he never truly, completely comprehended and that was himself. 'Why was I chosen for this? Whose son am I? What am I supposed to do?'

Thoughts of Atlas, destroying his former world, and being capable of doing the same to his current, ran across his mind, as his body, continued to be bombarded by stones and pebbles. The Novas, the soldiers, and the people depending on him, as well as his newfound daughter. Lastly, setting him off, was Mado calling him an abomination, 'the one that must be eliminated.'

'No... Who would you give all of these problems to? You must take care of them yourself.' His stubborn mind, yelled within, refusing to surrender. He opened his eyes, still blindfolded in darkness. However, swirling violently around him, was a massive hurricane, made out of a myriad of white light, and dark energy, never mixing, but tangled in a constant fight.

"What... What is this?" He spoke out loud, stunned by the sight.

At Roku's training grounds...

Kayed struck against the boulder in front of him as hard as he could, but his stone gauntlets broke apart.

"Again!" Roku yelled at him, then continued to watch the others.

Sighing, the Nova took a deep breath, looking over at Norah struggling to make any progress as well. Roku had quickly drilled the basics of iko, into them, wanting to move them quickly over to the next lesson. The strength aspect.

Surprisingly though, they didn't expect him to be such a good teacher. He was just a bit too strict, in their opinion. With his help, they were able to become aware of their iko, brought it under control, and then began to arm themselves with it.

However, the titanium boulders, filled with diamonds and gems, were incredibly difficult to break. On top of that, they weren't allowed to use any gear.

"Dinner will get cold, if you take long, trying to make a dent in brittle stone," the General yelled, trying to motivate them.

Osei, furiously punched his boulder, as his hands bled, but he refused to back down. He was angry with himself. Something he had been taught long ago, but had never made any attempts to completely master.

The Rennayan martial arts, Waio taught him, was a way of awakening and perfecting one's iko. He used to tell him, that the ones that practiced and perfected it to their utmost limits, were capable of breaking boulders with little movement.

"How... How could I forget? Waio!" He yelled, in frustration while throwing a last strike with his full might, carrying with it the intention for it to break. A massive crack ruptured, lining up horizontally and breaking into small branches through, a third of the boulder.

Norah and Kayed stared in astonishment. Roku was impressed. "I expect no less from a Rennayan Prince, but you must channel your iko, with less aggression. It breaks because you will it to, not because of your anger."

Osei nodded, then walked back to their sitting area and started to wrap up his bleeding knuckles.

The General turned his attention towards the rest of the Novas. "You won't make any progress by staring at it!"

Kayed & Norah rolled their eyes and shook their heads. Then, got back into position and continued training.

Above Kaieda's training grounds...

Tai leaped up, trying to one-up Kaieda, who had just unleashed, a thirty-foot-tall golem, covered in tough metals from the earth. Then sent it after Carina and Kalista.

Tai covered his fists in the hottest flames he could produce without transforming. Remembering Kaieda's words, 'Don't hold back, but no ascending.'

He bit down, throwing his fist forward, toward Kaieda's back. Expecting a hard connection and breaking the unsuspecting man's back. Instead, the Nova almost threw up, as he was lurched back by an arm made of sand. Which grabbed him, with a firm grip. While nearly breaking one of his arms.

"Now, now, how could you fall for that? Didn't I tell you? Iko can be anywhere, as far as your body will allow, and your imagination can reach..." Kaieda reminded them, as he turned around and let his golem smack Kalista far off into the distance, then it threw Carina high up in the air, towards them.

The prince caught Carina in a floating bed of sand, before continuing his lecture and restrained her. "You've been letting your emotions cloud your judgment for too long. It should only be a catalyst. If you were more aware. You would have realized..."

The ground of their entire training grounds, began to shift and change, rumbling as if two earthquakes were fighting each other, underground. "I have already made this entire area my domain. The only way you can escape my gaze is by overwhelming my domain or moving faster than me. For that, you're going to have to keep putting yourself on the brink of death." He spoke gleefully, then had the floating arm throw him across the field, before turning his head in Kalista's direction.

"Looks like one of you, has figured it out already." He sighed, raising his right hand, then dropping it, as a sudden pit, opened up under Kalista's feet. She yelled out, but with quick thinking raised a platform to fly out. Only for it to crumble apart as the ground closed up above her and sunk her into an abyss.

Kaeida turned his eyes towards Carina. She was struggling to get out of her restraints, but Kaeida's iko felt like iron. "Are you going to continue playing princess or are you going get stronger?" His words stung. He barely knew her, but she felt like he had peeked into her whole life with one gaze.

"I know! We are going to play a game." He said excitedly, as three perfectly carved gems, rose out of the ground, hovering behind Kaeida's back. Then he reached his left hand out, as a crude alien-like megaphone, put itself together in his hand.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "Attention Novas. Your comrade has been captured. Whenever you get the chance to free her and destroy the stones behind my back, you'll get to enjoy supper tonight. Don't worry, The Rahmanaka can go days without food!."

He let out a hearty laugh, while dropping the megaphone down below and faced Carina. While ignoring Kalista, erupting out of her pitfall. "Now then... Are you just going to let yourself be saved?"

At Yori's training grounds...

Yori, released the growling bears, out of their cages. Who immediately, rushed after the two Novas, as they instinctively jumping out of the way.

"Don't be scared. They won't bite, if you can tame them with your iko, that is!" Yori called after them.

Jacira & Runa looked at each other, and then at Yori. "Are you crazy?!" They asked in unison.

The girls had all right to be wary. The bears were called Nakaya bears, native to the Azurian planet and could survive the harshest of conditions, the planet had to offer. Especially with them having to adapt from one Solar System to the next.

Their defining features included black and light brown fur, with an all-black underbelly. Weighing in over three thousand pounds, larger than any bear on Earth. One of them continued to charge after the Novas. The other turned its bloodthirsty, red eyes towards Yori.

Seeing her as easy prey. However, she didn't panic, as it got closer. Instead, she raised her left hand towards its head, while it continued to snarl at her with overwhelming malice. Then she dropped her hand down, as the bear followed suit, bowing its head.

"Woah! What the actual -" Jacira started to say before her bear leaped four feet into the air and attempted to pull her down.

She raised her ice platform higher, then manifested walls surrounding her bear, so that she could have a little time to think. To her dismay, it broke out of it easily, like it was tearing paper.

Yori piped up, trying to get across to the struggling Novas, while Runa kept yelling, "Stay put" and "Sit," as she dodged her bear's lunges. "I forgot to mention, where there is an abundance of iko, animals adapt. As such they will be able to use it too." Jacira looked at her with a poker face, like she couldn't have told them earlier.

Runa stopped running around and faced her bear head-on. "I said... Sit!"

She spoke with a serious tone. Her bear in response, slowed down for a second. As it raised its arm, high above its head, ready to strike her down. Runa, showed no hint of fear, as she continued to stare down the bear and repeat her words louder this time. "Sit, or I'll fry you alive!"

The bear paused as if it was thinking things over. Then dropped its paw, to the ground, and sat, snarling once at her.

Yori smiled, seeing Runa's progress. "Well done Runa! You've almost completely tamed the beast. Next time, use a little less aggression. It helps."

Runa rolled her eyes. She didn't like Yori, but she acknowledged her battle experience. However, she still hated the fact, that she had to train so far away from Simon, someone she had started to become more fond of. She only found out he turned down the invite at the last minute.

Yori, gave her an indifferent smile, even though she knew, she would never receive one back. She turned her attention back to Jacira, watching her continue to struggle with her bear. "Jacira, you've got this! Think of them as the adorable cubs, they usually are!"

Jacira was a little annoyed, thinking to herself, that they weren't 'adorable,' and that she was just trying to get her killed.

As if sensing her thoughts, Yori yelled out to the both of them. "After this, I have descendants of dinosaurs, you can practice on!"

—————————————————————————————————————————————————

Notes:

MC stands for main character and is a reference to Luffy's training with Rayleigh.

ESL stands for English as a second language. The classes they placed foreign kids in, to integrate and learn English (even if they already spoke English. Couldn't complain though, it was basically free time for me as a kid and I got to draw dragonflies.

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Out there - Patreon (for all those curious or wanting to support :))

At the Beginning

Adventure Arc - Arc 2

Wilderness Arc - Arc 3

Academy Arc - Arc 4

Nobility Arc - Arc 5

Previously on Leveling up the World...

Book 7 will be available on Amazon and Kindle Wednesday 24th :D

“We’d have thought you’d have learned by now.” The emperor cast a ray of light from his fingers.

The execution of the spell was infantile—the way children would do it while pretending to be mages—yet also terrifyingly perfect. There were no spell symbols visible, no fluctuations in his magic threads, just a stream of destructive light that pierced copyettes one after the other. There also wasn’t an ounce of concern regarding casualties.

Seven copyetes and one living armor remained. All of them were aware that they couldn’t win, yet they had no intention of retreating.

Moon vows, Dallion thought. There could be no other force keeping them here.

“How many times has it been so far?” the emperor asked, while his guards managed to shred another of the slime-beings.

If Dallion wanted to, he could easily deal with the remaining living armor or even lend a hand with the common copyettes, but he chose to remain close to Abla.

Far above, massive lights filled the sky. Explosions so powerful and long-lasting that they took on the appearance of suns coming into existence. Euryale wasn’t having an easy time, either. Despite their speed, the rocket bolts had a short range of effect. In order to take out one of the rockets making their way to the capital, they had to strike their targets with extreme precision; a task only fit for a gorgon and one with high enough trait levels to hit targets at great distances. Despite her best efforts, the explosions were getting closer and closer.

“Seven, or maybe eight?” The emperor mused, then glanced up above him. “That must make this nine.”

The final living armor thrust through the air, two massive blades pointing forward.

Dallion’s instincts took over. There was no doubt in his mind that the emperor could protect himself, yet on a subconscious level he couldn’t get the image of the ruler getting skewered out of his mind.

A spiral attack spit the air, striking the massive armored suit, sending it up until it hit the domain shell. Caught between two forces, the copyette stood no chance. Alloys that were virtually unbreakable tore and twisted as the armor was flattened against the shell.

“Nine,” the emperor said. “We have to give it to them. They are stubborn.” A faint blue aura surrounded the incandescent purple glow coming from the man’s very being. Even now, Dallion found it difficult to endure.

That was the reason people viewed Emperor Tamin as an infallible deity, a step away from Moonhood. It wasn’t the strength alone, but the man’s presence itself mixed with enough music spells to entice anyone into believing what he saw fit. Minutes ago, Dallion had claimed Duchess Elazni to be the greatest music user in the empire. He was wrong. The true greatest was the emperor himself.

“You being here must mean that your declaration of war is no longer in effect?” The emperor turned towards Dallion.

Uncertainty swept through Dallion’s mind. If it came to a fight between the two of them, could he succeed? With a lot of the emperor’s artifacts destroyed, there was a chance. To the common eye, the emperor’s outfit seemed no different than before, yet any skilled mage would be able to see it was vastly inferior to what it had been before the formation of the black sphere.

I could defeat him, a voice said in the back of Dallion’s mind. Nothing was stopping him from doing just that. Abla would still be alive. Not only would Dallion still be able to form an alliance with the Tamin empire, but he would have eliminated one of the three players competing for control of the world.

“You’re right,” he said. “If it goes on, we both lose.”

“We’re glad you came to the right conclusion.” The balls of light above them kept increasing. “Annoying, isn’t it? One would have thought that they would have gotten the hint. Although, I must admit—replacing my overseers was an interesting move. I’ll have to keep it in mind for the future.”

Not to mention how it was done, Dallion told himself. Even with the copyettes’ abilities and the Order’s resources, it wouldn’t have been easy. One thing was certain—once Dallion returned to his own domain, the first thing he’d do was use the kaleidervisto to confirm that Veil and everyone within his personal realm were really who they said they were.

“So, what do we do now?” Dallion asked. “We can’t pretend this didn’t happen.”

“That is where you’re wrong. The stage is set. Just because we’ve had a few last-minute replacements is no reason to abandon the spectacle.”

As he spoke, the structure was already in the process of repairing itself. All the blood and bodies were swallowed up, as if they had never existed. With some help of music and limiting echoes, no one would ever remember that anyone had died that day. The casualties would be removed from history or given plausible explanations that had never happened.

“We’ll miss having the Elazni around, but such is life.” The emperor let off a fake sigh. “It was a mistake allowing that house to remain in the first place. Now that mistake will be rectified.”

“And me?”

“You, dear Dallion Darude, will be the new archduke of the east—a hero of the empire, vanquisher of dragons, destroyer of nymphs, and our personal close friend.”

Dallion felt like vomiting. A few days ago, the man had ordered him killed and now he was pretending as if nothing had happened.

“And you won’t try to kill me again?” Dallion voiced the question.

“It wasn’t personal. You and Abla were aiming to do the same to us, weren’t you Abla?” The emperor glanced at the duke.

The noble couldn’t help but look away under the pressure of the emperor’s voice.

“Only one could pass through the gate, but it’s always much easier to do so when there’s only one opponent. The Order can’t be trusted and the nymph empress is unstable. While those two remain, none of us will accomplish anything. Besides—” the emperor floated up, moving closer to Dallion “—you have a lot fewer forces. If you attack us, we’ll suffer a lot, but you’ll never be able to recover.”

That proved one of the shortest negotiations that Dallion had been part of. The approach was a lot different from that of the void or the archbishop. The emperor had made a proposal, then dared Dallion to refuse it. There was no telling whether that was a provocation or the man really didn’t care.

As the explosions in the sky ceased, and the last of the copyettes were killed off, any traces of the event were completely removed. The domain shell was quickly brought down, and the city cast a mass healing spell instead. Anyone wounded or petrified was healed back to their previous state, their memories adjusted to remember nothing of this.

Metalins and bladerers filled the skies once more, as they always had, carrying flags with the imperial crest. Any trace and memory of House Elazni was quickly extinguished. According to all historical records and ancient sagas, the second empress remained, but her progeny failed to produce any male heirs, causing the house to end its existence centuries ago.

An entire new set of overseers was created from the overseer sector, taking on the role of the city’s protectors. As for the fallen imperial guards and generals—they were replaced by others that were available.

Five minutes after the end of the assassination attempt, Dallion knelt next to Abla, in front of the emperor, while Euryale took a front-row seat, in the section reserved for imperial nobles. Everything proceeded as if it had been planned for years. Only five people remembered the truth of what had happened, and none of them were inclined to share it.

“Subjects of the Tamin Empire,” the emperor said, while magic devices conveyed images and sound of the events in every settlement within his domain. “Duke Abla and Count Dallion have succeeded in destroying the dragon nest close to our borders, earning the title Dragon Killers!”

Cheers erupted, although the vast majority of people had no idea of the reason they were cheering. Most outside of the imperial capital weren’t even aware of the dragon hunt until moments ago. Now, they felt as if that had been the main topic of conversation for months.

“They have proven that we can rest at ease knowing that such heroes wouldn’t allow the empire to be threatened by enemies, be they monsters, armies, or dragons.”

Another deliberate pause took place, quickly filled with a new wave of cheers.

“For this noble deed, we are bestowing the title prince onto Abla,” the emperor continued. “From this moment on, he is second after us, and the one who will lead our troops to victory over the nymph menace.”

Good luck with that. Dallion couldn’t help but pity the duke. It was bad enough that the emperor had made sure that he remembered every detail of the recent events, but had now turned him into a potential scapegoat. The only way to avoid execution was to lead the attack against the nymphs on the front.

“As for our close friend, Dallion Darude, we are giving him the title grand archduke of the east—something he has long earned when he crushed the nymph invaders.”

Grand archduke? Dallion thought. That was a bit over the top. The people seemed to like it. Among the noises of the crowd, Dallion was able to hear his wife being showered with fake compliments from rows of high nobles in her vicinity.

“And that is far from all! While wise despite his years, we have chosen to give him a valued advisor to provide counsel when needed.”

Internally, Dallion blinked. This hadn’t been in the script. The agreement was that the ceremony would be done with quickly, and he could return to his domain. Leave it to the Tamin to sour the deal with a last-minute addition that he knew Dallion couldn’t refuse.

Gritting his teeth, Dallion forced a smile on his face.

“Another dear friend of mine,” the emperor went on. “And one with vast experience. A great spellcaster and a former archmage of the Academy.”

Adzorg? Dallion thought.

Not in a hundred years did he expect such a turn of events. It was funny how the roles were suddenly reversed. Up until recently, Dallion had used Adzorg to learn what was going on in the imperial capital. Now, the emperor was going to use him to learn what was happening in Alliance; or would have, if the old mage hadn’t made a Moon vow not to share information between them.

Don’t worry, the emperor said, using the empath voice reserved for guardians. We’ll have another good friend to take his place. We just don’t have the heart to dispose of your great-grandmother. She’s family, after all.

Of course, she is. Who better to use than her to find out about the archbishop’s plans?

Despite all the pomp and cheers of the ceremonies. The otherworlder with the glasses remained on Dallion’s mind. He couldn’t help but feel that the attack wasn’t over. The assassination had come far too close to being successful. For someone who prided himself on being able to see the future, it didn’t make sense that things would end up there. There had to be some contingency plan that was put into motion. Or was this one big distraction? Destroying the rockets was too easy, even if it was Eury doing it.

It felt weird complaining to be alive, but if Dallion had organized the attack, he would have launched a number of rockets that exceeded the bolts he had constructed. Why hadn’t the archbishop done so?

The storm before the calm, Giaccia said from Dallion’s domain. The archbishop has always operated in this fashion. He creates the impression that his plans have failed, then waits for the right moment to strike again.

A game of chess lasting centuries, Dallion thought. The question was when his next move would be and who would it be aimed against?

Next

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The man, sitting in his cell, got up, struggling with his restraints. The earthquakes and massive explosion, caving his prison in, made it difficult for him to sleep.

Standing before him albeit battered up, but still free, were two men and one woman, a sight he thought he would never see. He looked around, trying once more, to use his senses to search outside of his cell, but was left disappointed. His cell was specially made, to disable and hold users, up to the third gear. Tech made by his ancestors.

The woman tapped on the glass, stealing his attention. She tried to talk to him, but all he could hear were murmurs, as his cell was soundproof.

He raised his cuffed hands pointing at the intercom on the right side of his cell. Amaara noticed, then walked over, pressing the button and allowing open communication. "Who are you and what's your story."

The Novas were curious. They had never seen an alien that looked or felt like him. The man had black and grey hair, mixed evenly. Complimenting him were lost violet eyes and a mixed complexion.

He looked young like he was in his early 20s, but his eyes added decades of trauma. Regardless, he still managed to smile, happy to have visitors that weren't part of the rotten family. "My name is Acryus. I am half Rennayan, half Messian. I was captured 80 years ago, by a Prince of Ceria." He paused, looking at their outfits. "You're foreigners, right?"

Amaara kept a poker face, still unable to trust him. "Yes, we are Novas of the Beyond Space Force. This is Simon & Koji." Pointing at the two, giving him dead glares, with one hand resting on their weapons. "...And you can call me Amaara. Now listen here. See this."

She reached into her belt pocket and pulled out a small object, releasing it into the air. It whirred silently, as it caught flight and started recording.

"This is a Truthseeker, we use these, to vet aliens. This, along with your story, will help me, determine if I should, just leave you in here..." She crossed her arms, giving him a playful grin. "Or possibly grant you salvation."

Acryus knew already to be wary of her. Still, he kept his composure and slightly lifted his right eyebrow. "First of all that is an Orçao. Made by my people over 1500 years ago. Second of all, if you're not associated with the Cerian Empire, are you sure we have time for this right now?"

Amaara chuckled. "Damn, so you really can't sense anything in there can you? Sarah might find this little cage interesting."

She looked back at Simon & Koji, who just nodded back, telling her it was okay to let him know. "They were planning on invading us, so we ambushed them. All of the children of Atlas on this planet, have been wiped out. Valtorin is now under our control."

Acryus stepped back, letting out a huge sigh of relief. "I understand the situation now... Well then, where should I start-"

Amaara cut him off. "How about you start with, why you're in this cell."

Acryus gave her a soft smile. "It's because I am dangerous."

Amaara raised her eyebrows. "Oh really?"

He looked up to the ceiling, sighing. "I have to be. They slaughtered my entire settlement, around 80 years ago. I have been locked up and used, as their slave ever since."

The Novas were stunned. Amaara walked up close to the glass, squinting her eyes as she looked him down, head to toe. "Did you say 80 years ago? That's impossible, you look like you're about our age."

Acryus shook his head. "It's possible for Messians... Our lifespans range from 250-300 years old. I've pretty much just reached adulthood."

Still unable to believe what she had just heard, she looked back at Simon and Koji once again. Simon shook his head, walking closer to the glass. "80 years that's insane." He whispered.

Koji gripped his hilt, feeling no doubt in Acryus' words. "He must be strong."

Acryus darted his eyes between each Nova. "You may not believe me. That's fine. My only reason to go on living right now is to kill the Prince who murdered my parents and the rest of his siblings, who wiped out our settlement."

He shifted his position, as he continued his story. "Our settlement, was on a small moon, camouflaged on the outskirts of the Rennayan Solar System. My father was the leader of the reformists, he wanted to change the minds of the people away from war and their traditional ideology. Since they were often persecuted, groups of them left at a time to settle on a large moon, with the aid of some friends from Rennaya."

The Novas were quiet, taking this all in. Acryus looked at the hovering ball, still watching him for any lies, he may spout. He exhaled deeply, before continuing. "That's how he met my mother. Together we lived in our little house, tending to our farm every day, while my father solved settlement disputes and trained me when he could. However, all of that changed, when the children of Atlas attacked."

He looked at each of them, with the most pain-stuck eyes they'd ever seen. As if he had just witnessed the event moments ago. "All of the adults were killed. They then separated the children into delicacies and fighters. Mixed bloods were their favourite to eat, but when Atlas found out, he ordered them to save us as backup, for some plan he had thought up."

He raised his handcuffs, giving them a little shake. "Since then, these cells, have been my home, and the occasional battlefields, they throw me in. That's pretty much all there is to it."

He stepped forward as the floating orb scanned him once more. Amaara smiled, reaching up to grab it and put it away. "It seems the people have spoken. They wish to see you free."

She nodded towards Koji, who hit the large button on a console. Which they figured out with Saphyra's help, was the release. The cell opened up, releasing an incredible amount of pressure and mist.

Acryus stepped out. Standing in front of Amaara. "The people? I had an audience?"

She laughed lightly. "That's right, we Novas fight for the people and they sometimes like to come along with us on our journey."

She raised her right hand, stretching her index finger, as a knife-sized beam, erupted, hovering over it, and maintaining itself like a torch. Then she proceeded to cut down his restraints, with one quick strike.

Acryus' chains fell, clattering against the floor over each other. He rubbed his wrists, easing a long-awaited itch. Then cracked his neck and stretched his arms and legs.

Amaara spoke as he continued to stretch. "We're in the process of clearing out a safe path for our planet. Then we plan on dismantling the Cerian Empire. I'm sure you still want a chance to meet the children of Atlas, who destroyed your home. So..."

Acryus met her eyes, as his expression changed. "So, what are you implying?"

Amaara put on a confident smirk. She knew they could use his strength and he didn't seem, as dangerous as he said he was. "How about... joining the Novas?

Notes:

Another chapter will be dropped later today, since this one was short.

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PART ONE THOUSAND AND ONE

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Sunday

I told you to get your area senses up, Rubin sneered as Kulon turned and placed a hand on Sam and Geraldine, who were still on the floor.

“Are you two alright?” he asked, ignoring his smug clutch-mate.

Geraldine nodded, but Sam took a few seconds to answer. “I will be. That crap hurt.” He then twisted his head to glare at the remaining two men at the other end of the room. “What the hell was that all about?” he demanded, despite the fact both men were staring wide-eyed at Kulon.

“You took out all twelve men in seconds,” Donald said, his voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. “I assume your wrist darts had some manner of poison on them to be that efficient. Are they dead?”

“No, but only because Geraldine asked me not to do anything permanent to them. Like Sam, they’ll walk it off as soon as they wake up … shortly.”

“Maybe not that guy,” Sam grimaced, thumbing at the broken man outside. “But he shouldn’t have tried to grab Gerry. What frightens her automatically angers me.”

Kulon wasn’t thrilled with the taser guy either, just saying.

“I’ve heard when people mix adrenalin with electricity, they’re able to do fantastical feats of strength,” Tucker Portsmith’s words were barely whispered as he stumbled forward. “But I’ve never seen…”

Kulon’s hand went up to ward him off. “Stay back,” he warned.

“No one was supposed to be hurt,” he insisted. “We were simply trying to prove a point.”

“And what point would that be?” Sam growled, rubbing his chest where the prongs had connected as he climbed to his feet, bringing Geraldine up with him. Kulon was confident that motion was more out of annoyance at being hit, for unlike mortals, Sam and the other hybrids healed from those types of injuries almost instantly. “Because I doubt you’re going to like the outcome of the point I’m thinking you were going for here.”

Wow, kiddo - could you sound any more like your grandmother?

Watching the way Geraldine clung to Sam had Kulon remembering how she’d been clinging to Sam during the blitz attack. Gerry was holding Sam when he was tasered. Why wasn’t she electrocuted? he asked the only other person in the room who could’ve done something.

Rubin proved his hunch correct. Geraldine is Sam’s ultimate weakness. He can ignore almost anything but her being deliberately harmed, even if it’s only temporary. I put a layer of insulation between them right before the attack to prevent her assault from pushing his medication to breaking point.

You could have told me two more guys were sneaking up behind us.

I told you to get your area senses up. Rubin circled back to that statement like it was the ultimate defence in the matter.

The problem was that Kulon hadn’t wanted to come off as looking too good. As it was, the trained warrior standing with Tucker had identified his combat prowess as being higher than it should have been. If he’d adapted to the added threat coming in from another room, the only way the veil could hide that was by convincing everyone he was a real-life Terminator, capable of scanning through walls.

“We wanted to show you that it’s too easy to grab either one or both of you when your bodyguard is distracted,” Tucker answered, despite the plan being Donald’s. “The exercise would’ve been over the moment either or both of you were dragged into the hallway.”

Tasering a friendly non-combatant during a proposed wargame amongst mortals was a tad extreme, even in Kulon’s eyes.

Geraldine clung to Sam, resting her head on his shoulder. He turned to breathe in the aroma of her shampoo, probably to ground himself before breathing out deeply. “I think this little display is over,” he said, with the finality of his father.

Tucker looked at his unconscious men. “I would say so,” he agreed.

Sam then seemed to realise what Kulon had already put together. “That’s why you wanted to take Gerry’s place. You knew she was going to be grabbed.”

“I didn’t want her to be scared.”

Sam pointed back at the downed guard outside. “Then that is on you, not me.”

Just then, noise came up the corridor, and Tucker quickly moved around Sam and Gerry without coming any closer to them to intercept the newcomers. Donald walked at his side, keeping himself between Tucker and Kulon, which the true gryps had to give him kudos for since the guy had been shocked by Kulon’s capability.

Donald then closed the doors behind them to keep the room's contents from prying eyes, so Kulon moved up to them, sliding a minute tentacle under the door that then blossomed into a compound eye the way a dandelion sprouts a flower. He also gave the eye the hearing capability of a greater wax moth so as to miss nothing.

“Kulon,” Sam whispered, moving to his side, but Kulon raised a silencing finger to his lips.

* * *

Tucker was shaking. Of course, he’d heard Thomas’ detailed accounting of Kulon’s fighting prowess during their brief entanglement, and he’d seen with his own eyes the reaction the man himself caused in his bodyguard. But for some stupid reason, he’d been dismissive of it all, assuming Thomas had either embellished the details of the fight so as not to appear weak or, more likely, was drugged into thinking things were worse than they were.

He did NOT think that anymore.

As Donald closed the doors, Tucker drew a steadying breath and moved across the hallway to kneel at the fallen man’s side. Sam did this. Not even Kulon … but Sam. The skinny college kid. It was unbelievable.

Donald went into medical mode, rolling the man onto his back, removing his tie, and unbuttoning his shirt, all without removing the man’s sidearm. The swollen bruising was immediate, with the area from his right hip to the lower two ribs the obvious strike point of Sam’s foot. He looked like he’d been struck with a fence post being swung by King Kong.

In his peripheral vision, he saw the hotel staff and security guards rush down the hallway towards them.

Tucker knew many things, but first aid wasn’t one of them, and Donald was an experienced medic. So, instead of hindering him with pointless questions about the injured man’s wellbeing, Tucker stood up and turned to face the oncoming crowd. When he could see that he had their attention, he held up his hand and said, “If any of you has any medical experience that can help Donald with his colleague, it would be greatly appreciated. Otherwise, please stay back.”

Two came forward, acknowledging they had first aid knowledge. The woman at the front of the group dressed in a business suit stepped aside to let them pass, then looked between the downed man and Tucker. “What happened, Mister Portsmith?”

So the woman knew who he was. That made things easier. “As you know, I hired the conference hall for an impromptu training exercise since my guards were only assigned to me last night, and I wanted to test their ability.” His eyes broke away from hers to look at the downed man. “Unfortunately, things got out of hand in the heat of the moment and one of them used a taser that he wasn’t supposed to.”

He took his hat off to Sam. Had he been in the same situation, he couldn’t guarantee his first instinct would be to save Geraldine and not take apart the guy who’d hurt him.

“I saw this man flying like he was shot out of a cannon before he hit the wall,” the woman said, leaning around to look at Donald and the guard. “Due to the number of complaints the front desk received, I’ve contacted the police.”

Tucker pulled out his phone. “Thanks for the heads up.” He dialled Julian, who answered on the third ring.

“It’s Sunday,” he growled in warning.

“I didn’t hire you to be a speaking calendar, Julian. One of my guards has been hurt, and the hotel called the police. I’m going to need you down here and maybe Mister Kitikan as well. An exercise between our guards got out of hand.”

“Don’t speak to anyone until we get there.” And then the phone went dead.

“Has anyone called an ambulance?” Tucker asked as he pocketed the phone.

The woman in charge nodded. “Was anyone else hurt?”

Tucker shook his head. “Everyone else went down to sleeper holds and the like. They’re all unconscious but will be fine as soon as they wake up.” Looking down at the injured man, he added, “As I said, things only escalated when an unauthorised taser was used.”

The woman’s gaze narrowed. “Are they still inside the conference room?”

“They are, but I can’t let you go in there…”

“And I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist.”

Tucker stepped sideways, blocking the doorway. “What is going on behind those doors is the business of Portsmith Electronics.”

“Not once people start getting hurt, sir, and you’ve just admitted to at least one other person being unconscious in there. I am responsible for the well-being of everyone in the hotel, sir, and I must ask that you step aside and let me through.”

Julian is going to kill me, Tucker thought to himself as he moved away from the door, knowing if he’d followed the advice of his lawyer and kept his mouth shut, they’d have no grounds to force entry.

The manager opened the door and walked inside. “What in the world…!” she demanded, and Tucker quickly followed her in. Four of the downed men had regained consciousness enough to be sitting on the floor, dazedly rubbing their heads or their chests, depending on where Kulon had struck them. Two of them chose that moment to moan. The other eight were lying where they fell, and Tucker’s stomach sunk as he took in the scene with fresh eyes.

Especially when he realised Sam, Geraldine, and Kulon were at the other end of the room where he and Donald had been standing. Sam was seated in a conference chair with Geraldine on his lap nestled against him, and Kulon standing at his side with his arms folded, looking like he was ready to pick up right where he left off if Sam said the word.

It honestly looked like a mafia war scene, where the reigning mob boss had claimed victory by sitting on a makeshift throne with the girl of his choice on his lap. Geraldine had her head angled into his shoulder like there was nowhere else she wanted to be.

The woman had her phone out and was barking new orders for more people to come to the conference room, her eyes roaming from one unconscious man to the next in disbelief.

Sam didn’t bat an eye. It was eerie how calm he was; the twenty-year-old lad amongst a dozen unconscious men that all looked like they should have snapped him in half. His calm might be because of that pill he took earlier, though. He did say at the time it was to help him keep a level head.

Tucker wondered if he should find out who Sam’s physician was and get a script for those pills himself. God knows there were times at the office when he could use a calmative that actually worked.

“What in the world happened here, Mister Portsmith?!” the manager all but screeched, probably having never seen carnage like this.

“I’m sorry, but I’ve said all I’m prepared to say until the company lawyers get here.”

The woman’s nostrils flared in annoyance, but she turned to Sam and Geraldine. “Are you two alright?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam answered on behalf of them all. “We’re fine.”

‘Fine’ was definitely not the word Tucker would use to describe the situation.

[Next Chapter]

* * *

((All comments welcome. Good or bad, I’d love to hear your thoughts 🥰🤗))

I made a family tree/diagram of the Mystallian family that can be found here

For more of my work, including WPs: r/Angel466 or an index of previous WPS here.

FULL INDEX OF BOB THE HOBO TO DATE CAN BE FOUND HERE!!

Previous

Chapter 1

Greg sat down to enjoy his double hot dogs and double fries. He had been looking forward to this meal since he won the throwing contest.

"Congratulations, Greg," said Rose, sitting across from him. "We heard you throw like an orc."

Greg chuckled, mouth full, and gave her a thumbs-up. As the rest of the crew joined him at the table, the air filled with laughter and chatter. Rick whispered something that made Rose laugh loudly, turning the little imp's cheeks red. When Thorn sat down with her food, the laughter abruptly stopped.

Conversation soon resumed in small groups. The twins discussed cooking techniques with their eager new staff. Meanwhile, Rose and George exchanged ideas over coffee. Rose discovered that George's friend, Sam, was an expert in what George termed "Foo Foo coffee" (anything that was not black coffee).

"Foo Foo coffee," Thorn laughed raspily, "Now, I like that. Black coffee is the only way to go."

George shifted uncomfortably, "Yes, well, I like a good strong black coffee, too. But Sam made some of the best coffee with cinnamon, butterscotch, and chocolate."

"Chocolate?" Rose asked, curious. "I've had chocolate once—it was bitter. Wouldn't that make the coffee bitter, too?"

"You had dark chocolate, girl," Thorn explained. "We had some from a trader that time. There is a sweet chocolate. I've had it once. It was," the old Shaman said with a look of disgust, "too sweet."

"Sweet like Rose," Rick said. Rose smiled and blushed, her cheeks tinting light brown. (Hello, Dear Reader, keep in mind green and red make brown)

"Bah! Orcs aren't sweet, Imp," scolded Thorn.

Rick didn't back down, "Why not? Can't all creatures be kind and sweet?"

"Look, I…" Rose began.

"Of course, all creatures can be kind." Thorn glared at the little imp. "You shouldn't be saying an Orc is sweet."

"Why not?" Rick was getting angry, "Rose is sweet, kind, smart, and beautiful."

"You think I'm beautiful," Rose whispered.

"An imp should know his place." Thorn stood up, glaring down at the imp.

"What!" Rose shouted as she stood up, "How dare you say that to him!"

"Mind yourself, girl," Thorn shouted back.

"I will not!" Rose shouted, "Rick is a good imp, and he's shown me more respect than anyone else."

Bob raised his hand, "I respect you."

"Shut up, Bob!" Rose and Thorn shouted together.

"Outside, girl!" Thorn shouted.

Rose patted Rick on the head, "Stay here. I'll be back soon."

The two Orc Shamans left the tent. Everyone except Rick went back to silently eating. The shouting could be heard all over the camp.

"One gold on Rose," Bob said to the table.

"What?" Betty asked, "Thorn is a battle shaman. She's, uh, you know, hardened."

"Yeah, but Rose really likes Rick," Ben said, "She's got it bad for him."

"Really?" Rick asked.

Bob laughed, "I'm as dense as a gold brick, and even I knew that."

Rick blushed, "I like Rose too."

"We know, little cousin," Ben said, patting him on the head. "It'll be okay. Thorn is set in her ways, but we can all change."

"Yeah!" Rick said.

Bob raised his cup of water, "Orcs running a restaurant."

Everyone else also raised their cups, "Orcs running a restaurant."

The shouting had stopped, and the rumble of thunder began. Lightning flashed outside, and the ground rumbled. Even the most hardened Orc at the table started to worry. Then silence.

Thorn entered the tent. Her glare told everyone all they needed to know. She sat down and began to eat. Rick stood, but Thorn held up her hand.

"Leave her be, Imp," Thorn said, "She's gone for a walk."

"But," Rick began as Bob waved for him to be quiet.

"No," Thorn said sternly, "Let a Shaman walk out her anger. It's for the best. Nothing sane on this plain would dare bother her."

–

"Stupid Thorn!" Rose shouted, kicking a rock down the road. "Stupid restaurant, stupid coffee, stupid imp," she paused, whispering, "No, not a stupid imp. My imp." Tears began to follow freely.

Rose walked. She didn't care where she went; she wanted to put distance between herself and everyone. As she walked, she thought about the future. There was a future now for them. She knew it. Thorn had seen it. But she also knew there could be a future for her and Rick. They didn't need to be fighting to survive.

"What's the matter, dear?" A voice brought Rose back to where she was. She looked at a group of humans riding in a wagon; the one who spoke was a female.

"Oh, uh, sorry," Rose said, wiping away tears.

"No need to be sorry, dear; you're upset." The woman said, "So, what's the matter?"

Rose laughed, still trying to wipe away all the tears, "I had a fight."

"Boyfriend?" Said one male.

Rose laughed again, "Well, over my boyfriend."

"Always a boyfriend," Another male said.

"No, it was my mentor. She, well," Rose began.

"She doesn't approve," finished the female.

"Yeah," Rose whispered.

"My mum never approved of any of my boyfriends," the female said.

"Hey? What about me?" The male driving the wagon said over his shoulder.

"Especially you," the woman said with a laugh, "It's why I married you."

"Ha! Shows her," The man said proudly.

"Well," The woman began, "She was right, but I'm stuck with your sorry ass." The group laughed, and even Rose laughed a little.

"What does she not like about your boyfriend?" One male asked. The entire group in the wagon had become invested in the plight of this one Orc Shaman.

Rose shook her head, "He's an imp."

"Oh!" The entire group of humans said at once.

"That's a bit rough," The woman said, "I take it Orcs don't approve of interspecies dating?"

Rose thought about the woman's words and nodded, "Yes, I guess so. I've never heard of an Orc dating someone who wasn't an Orc."

"But love doesn't care," the woman said. "It can't see things like Orcs or Imps." The group nodded in agreement. The woman jumped from the wagon and began to walk with Rose.

Rose smiled down at her, "You are right. Love is blind in those things."

"Oh, true, true," The woman said as they walked.

A man in the wagon offered Rose an apple. "Thank you," she said as he took a bite. "So what do I do?"

"Well, you can leave the imp and follow tradition," The woman said.

Rose frowned as she chewed, "I'd rather not. He's such a great guy, and we work in the restaurant."

"Oooo," the humans said together.

"Ah, dating a coworker, yeah, that's tough," the woman said. "Well, then buck tradition and choose the Imp."

Rose continued to eat the apple, "I hated how upset Thorn was."

"Whose Thorn?" a man in the wagon asked.

"Hush," another said, "That's got to be her mentor." The rest nodded in agreement.

"I don't know what to do," Rose said, tossing the apple core into the field.

The woman stepped in front of Rose. Everyone stopped. She said, "Look at me." Rose looked down at the woman. "I need you to repeat after me." Rose nodded. "I am strong."

"I am strong," Rose repeated.

"Capable."

"Capable."

"Confident."

"Confident."

"Orc!"

"Orc!" Rose stood tall and proud.

"I will."

"I will."

"Be my own Orc."

"Be my Own Orc."

"And!"

"And!"

The woman raised her hand in front of her, "Sleep!"

Rose batted her eyes in confusion, "Sleep?" Suddenly, her eyes grew heavy, and she fell into darkness.

The woman put her hands on her hips and addressed the wagon," Told you I knew magic."

"Whatever, one spell doesn't mean you know magic," The driver said.

"Doesn't matter, old fire pants will be so happy." The woman said.

"This was way better than being tossed around," the driver said. The humans in the wagon nodded in agreement.

"Throw her in the wagon and cover her up." The woman ordered.

"How are we going to get her into town?" The driver asked.

"We take the side entrance. My cousin is on guard duty tonight. He's lazy and never checks the wagons." The woman said with a wicked smile.

The group loaded Rose into the wagon and wrapped her in a large sheet.

"Hey, I wonder what will happen?" a man asked.

"We'll tell the Orcs to leave if they want her back," said the woman.

"No, I mean between her and the imp," The man said.

"What? Who cares?" The woman sneered.

"I do," The man said, "I was invested."

"Shut up, Derrick!" The group shouted.

--

Check out my new website. You can find everywhere I post my stories!

https://links.hellodearreader.com/

Author Note: Parts of what is coming have been previously published on Amazon Kindle (by me, of course) under a different title. I have chosen to completely rework/rewrite/reorder the story and go off on what I once considered a tangent but now makes up the body of the work. It's a good base for the characters, but I don't feel I developed them well enough and jumped the gun in publishing it there, and now I can't figure out how to rectify that in the writing after seven years of trying. I will freely share those compilations (via Word doc or whatever); otherwise, I'll be gutting it and posting it here in a new order/format.

Second note: Genre category: It really does fall into a few, but mystery fits it the best overall. If you feel something else fits it better, please feel free to comment. I am horrible at synopsis', summaries, and categorization, but I will try my best.

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CHAPTER 1

The sun's warm glow casts an emerald light over the vast, yet simple, loft apartment. A fernlike plant curtains the large floor-to-ceiling window, covering more than half of the exterior facing wall. Every surface is covered with vibrantly growing plants. Sturdy stalks loaded with full leaves stand tall in tiered rows of planter boxes overgrown with luscious life. Potted flowers in full bloom are on every available stand, table, and hanging space--their tendrils intertwined like carefully laid cables.

The walls are adorned with pencil drawings of historical renderings large and small, elaborately framed and behind glass as if held in high esteem and precious to their owner. The loft has two beds, one made up to perfection, while the other is in total disarray.

Amanda, appearing to be in her early forties, a sizeable deep scar from the top of her left eye down across her cheek, is sitting in a high-back chair at the focal point of a U-shaped array of large flat screen monitors, tiled three rows tall by six across. The extending desk, piled high with electronic devices of all sorts. She is focused on a video conference on the monitor directly in front of her, the images of various open documents behind it. The other monitors are displaying video of people moving casually on streets, inside multiple establishments, hallways, and parking garages. A small box at the bottom of each--scrolling informational text.

An informational message pops up at the bottom of the screen. Amanda's eyes divert to the box for a moment, then she clicks on it. The monitor right above her switches to a single video display of a well-dressed man getting out of a car in the parking garage. He adjusts his suit, reaches to the passenger side of the car, and pulls out a moderately sized seedling. The video zooms in on the plant and puts a box around it as information on its type, growth period, soil composition and genetic derivation display.

Amanda shakes her head, distracted and in disbelief of the information coming across the screen. She refocuses back to the video conference.

"Vicky, hey I'm sorry. I'm going to have to cut this short. I spaced, and I've got to be somewhere. I've got the pictures and your notes. I'll look them over and shoot you what thoughts I have via e-mail tonight."

The display tracks back to the man walking into a flower shop, switches to another angle from within the store, then of one where he is handed the plant over the counter. He pays for it with cash and makes his exit. Charts and a genealogy of the species he is carrying start to display.

"Yeah, that's fine. In the meantime, I'll get them packaged up and ready for the courier," Vicky offers.

The display flashes again, the timestamp traveling back further in time; hours go by in seconds, scanning the footage, analyzing everyone entering and exiting the flower shop as well as their acquired purchases.

"Catch you later," Amanda says with an urgency indicating a lack of time and breaks the connection.

The screen displays the flower the man had purchased, three question marks blinking in bright red, and the option to quarantine or not. She selects “yes.”

Amanda manipulates the keyboard with speed. The monitors, one at a time, switch their displays from the video surveillance to a more benign subject matter. She clicks on what appears to be a blank space on the desktop and types, but nothing appears on the screen until a single box appears with "Sync complete." A small, quickly moving time-indicator appears before "Secured" displays for a brief moment and is replaced by "Scan active.”

Amanda's smile shifts to a serious, focused look as she takes off the pair of glasses she is wearing and holds them up. The main monitor displays an image of the apartment. A box focuses on an area of the desk with the glasses sitting atop a blank yellow legal pad. She looks around, finds the pad at the end of the counter, places it where indicated in the image, and sets the glasses to match. Notes written in pencil appear on the legal pad. She rolls her eyes as she opens the drawer, takes the mechanical pencil out, scribbles the text as it is displayed, then places the pencil down as the computer indicates. The image zooms out and places a highlighted box around the energy drink can sitting to the side of the keyboard. An arrow then appears, pointing to an image of the can, crushed and lying in the garbage can on the opposite side of the desk.

“Figured as much,” she says, following the instructions provided.

Amanda leans back in her chair. “Future reference --let’s not be creating a physical record,” she says with a playful, yet serious tone as she taps on the legal pad. “No matter how benign it may appear.”

“Understood, updating parameters.” A female voice sounds in the room as a command box appears briefly on the screen, scrolls a large volume of text, then disappears. “Completed.”

"Who says you can't learn?" Amanda states with a smile.

She reaches for the crutches leaning against the end of the desk. "Take it live, then work towards an average delay. He's not here randomly. Anything out of what would be considered an ordinary encounter hold in queue, inform and modify to parameters if no response from me. Continue to track his gift's lineage, that's not a coincidence."

Amanda halts her motion, steadying her breath as her eyes scrunch closed bearing against the pain erupting throughout her body brought on by the movement.

“Complying. Are you in need of assistance?”

"I've got it!" Amanda snaps. She quickly forces calm to her voice in an exhaled breath. "He can't know of your existence – at least not yet. He's smart. He'll figure it out eventually -- if he hasn't already..." She shakes her head. "Not where I need my focus. Most importantly, he cannot know the current status of my health. Understood?"

“We understand.”

“Good. Keep your eyes open and monitor the streams for any anomalies. Otherwise, stay in the background.”

“Accepted and updating.”

Amanda pulls the crutches closer. She turns the chair revealing her left leg encased in a hard brace from her ankle up to just above her left knee with supporting apparatus up on her thigh. She pulls herself up onto the crutches with focused effort forcing the pain she is experiencing in the background. She steadies herself, reaches for her glasses, gives them a quick clean with the bottom of her t-shirt, swallows hard, puts them on and prepares herself mentally for what is to come.

“Amanda?”The female voice of the computer echoes through the room.

“I know.”

"Your blood pressure is--"

"I am aware. This is important." She takes a deep, focused breath. "Do what you can, but I need to see this through for Sam. Do you understand?"

“Yes.”

"Thank you," Amanda says with authenticity.

“We find error—“

"With me saying ‘Thank you?' Yeah, I get that. Override, AFH dash Severin ten, eleven, four, twenty-two. Amend to emotional response eighty-two point two."

“Accepted.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Amanda makes her way to the kitchen. Her movements agonizing and awkward at first, then migrate into a fluid progression of strength as her will overrules the matter to which it controls. She opens the cupboards systematically as if part of a ritual. She's not surprised to find them barren as they had been when she looked last. Her attentions fall for brief moments to the single box of crackers, a couple of unopened boxes of cereal, and a handful of canned soups. She closes the cupboards and moves to the fridge, opens it up, scans the contents: bottled water, a row of energy drinks, four beers in one six-pack and a full one behind it. She takes a bottled beer out, pops the top and slides it onto the counter, closes the fridge and opens the freezer, showing neatly organized frozen TV dinners. She is debating the options when there is a knock at the door.

"Take out it is," she says under her breath, closing the freezer. "Yeah, be there in a sec," she yells answering the knock.

She crutches over to the door. She looks through the peephole, pulls back, and pauses for a moment as if deciding whether to answer or not. She then unlocks the two deadbolts and unlatches the chain, pops the door open, and leans against it with her shoulder. "Assistant Director in Charge Garrett," she states with mild annoyance.

Garrett is in his mid to late fifties, excellent shape. His graying hair cut short, his suit well-tailored to military stature, his weapon and shield visible behind his open jacket. He is holding a small potted plant with a card attached.

"Special Agent in Charge," He amends with poignancy, including a look indicating this isn't the first time he's corrected her.

Amanda takes a quick inventory of Garrett. Her attention focuses momentarily on his thumb moving along the potted flower.

"Oh yeah, that's right, I keep forgetting. The Seattle field office came with a demotion. So, what do I owe the displeasure of your visit?"

"Sam here?"

Amanda appears to be surprised by his question, not expecting it. "No, just me." She moves from the door giving him indication to enter. "Sam won't be back until three weeks Friday, but you knew that already, right?" She waits for his response, keeping a careful eye on his reaction, receiving an almost unnoticeable rise in his eyebrow. "Beer?"

"I'll take one if you're offering," He says stepping inside, his eyes making a quick scan of the room.

"Off duty I take it. They're in the fridge, help yourself. Personal or professional visit for Sam? Because you wouldn't be here just to talk to me."

"And what if I were here to speak to you?" Garrett asks as Amanda tips the door closed and relocks the deadbolts.

"I'd be skeptical, fake surprise and pleasure at the possibility of a kind gesture and the beginnings of an olive branch." She pauses, giving the moment some thought. "All the while waiting for the other shoe to drop and the inevitable revelation of the reason you'd be giving to have me quietly excavated from my home in cuffs and tossed in a dark hole somewhere never to be heard from again." She gives a raised eyebrow daring him to speak otherwise.

"Your skepticism is noted, and given our history, understood. You did, however, let me in the door."

"Yeah, well, that’s Sam's influence. If it were me? I wouldn’t be putting money on a positive outcome," she offers evenly.

"Nor would I. Yet you offer a beer, including an invitation to get it myself," he says with a smile as he turns towards the kitchen area, his eyes scanning about for a place to set the plant.

"True." Amanda lets her tone lead to indicate an additional response is required.

"She told you,” Garrett answers as if expecting the interrogation.

"That you'd be coming over, yeah. Otherwise?" She leaves the thought open to interpretation with a hint it wouldn't be in his favor.

"Yeah, I got it," Garrett says with an understanding nod. "Did she indicate why?"

"Maybe," Amanda says with a shrug of her shoulders. "That for Sam or me?" she asks of the plant.

"Sam. She mentioned once they were her favorite,” he says placing the plant on the counter, turning it slightly for a better appearance.

He moves to the fridge and opens it. Amanda follows, picks up the beer she'd already set out then leans heavily against the counter as if she would crash to the ground without its support. Garrett takes notice of her reliance but makes no move to assist or draw further attention to it.

Amanda sees Garrett's desire to assist and his restraint in doing so. "Nothing you can do," she says softly under her breath as she lets her finger caress the leaves of the plant he had brought. The air between them hangs in a thick silence before she opts to follow the opening he had provided for conversation. "Are you sure Sam mentioned it? Or was in it in the 'she likes' section of her file?"

Garrett flips the top off the bottle and slides it next to the one Amanda had freed earlier as he leans against the opposite counter, his familiarity with their apartment and their habits visible. He doesn't answer the question; instead, he gives a small raise of his eyebrows indicating he'd like to have her thoughts on the matter.

"Not sure where you obtained that information? Or curiosity as to why I inquired?"

"Both."

"Okay." Amanda holds up the bottle in a salute, gives a small nod and then a wink. "I'll take care of it, find something more appropriate and put your name on it."

"More appropriate?"

"Something more fitting and personal that YOU would get her, and not what you tasked a secretary or a lackey to arrange as an excuse to come to the door under ‘innocent’ pretenses." She includes air quotes to punctuate her point.

"I need an excuse?"

"For Sam? No. Knowing I'd be the only one here? Yes."

"Not up to your standards?" He specifies the plant as his eyes scan the room indicating the hundreds if not thousands of species present already, but in his motion he acknowledges the correctness of her assessment with a half-smile.

"Not even close. You wired?"

"I suspect you would already know."

"Indulge me; it's been a long stretch.” Amanda lowers her head showing the strain while her words are laden with an emotional element unfamiliar to both of them.

Garrett takes a moment of contemplation, but quickly recovers and continues. "No. Need to check?"

"Already did,” Amanda retorts.

"Assumed nothing less. And?" Garrett leads, realizing she is leaving a trail for him to follow.

"How much time between the request for the special-order bundle of joy here and the pick-up?"

"Something's setting off warning bells with you," he states evenly.

"That obvious?"

"Hour or two give or take.” Garrett analyzes her every motion.

"Only one store in the area carried it, and it is conveniently located between your office and here. Cash only transaction." She grips her hand tightly against the handhold of her crutch in response to Garrett's attention to her trembling hand.

"Educated guess, or is Sam setting something up between us?" Garrett asks in a way that indicates he already knows the answer and he suspects it may have something to do with her current condition.

"Uh-huh," she says not dodging the question or the innuendo behind it.

"You're certain?” he asks and gets a positive response. "Damn."

"Yeah, she reads me like an open book. Probably you as well.”

"So, what do we do now?"

"We? That implies some mutual contribution on your part," Amanda says with a painful smile.

"True. I want to--”

"Ask, but don't, I get it." She takes a calculated breath and shifts the subject. "Still illegal to record a federal officer without their consent?"

"Yes."

"Even in my company?"

"I'm not on a federal watch list."

"Officially I’m not either, but you still let it transpire."

"Don't have a choice, part of the deal brokered for your freedom by Sam."

"I am aware, doesn't mean I have to like it," Amanda says holding her composure with a grimace.

"Your opinion on the matter is well known."

"Good. Your answer?"

"Not when I’m on official business, even in your company."

"If this is business related, make the call, I'm sure they'll listen to you, being their superior and all," Amanda says heavily laden with sarcasm, yet an undertone of begging for a reprieve carrying beneath it.

He gives what she's asking a moment of thought. "Go silent dark, authorization Special Agent in Charge Garrett predetermined Alpha Tango Eight”--he holds up his hand while looking at his watch, and then slowly lowers each finger until his fist closes-- "we're clear."

"That's if you trust them, which I don't."

"As I am fully aware. Though--I'm fairly certain--you have your countermeasures in place."

"Knowing what you do of me, one could safely make that assumption," she says moving, regretting it and taking in a seething breath. “Fewer questions if it had an official request.” He looks at her unsure if he should now react to her condition. Amanda shakes her head subtly, indicating he should leave it alone. "So, your idea or theirs to include the transceiver with the order?"

"They're just flowers. I don't mean to be disrespectful Aman--"

"It's not paranoia," she finishes for him then sets her beer down.

She takes the plant by its stalk and pulls it from the pot, gives it a quick shake, and pulls out a small chip the size of a fingernail encased in hard plastic. She detangles the wires wrapped around its roots and holds it up before Garrett, her eyebrow raised in a question. She reads it on his expression that he is as shocked by its presence as he is by her discovery of it.

"I didn't know that was in there,” he defends.

"I know," she says as the wire on the transceiver digs into her finger like a paper cut. Physically there is no reaction, but she looks at it as if questioning why she didn’t feel it. “Sharp little bastard.” She drops both to the counter and unceremoniously slides them off into the awaiting trashcan in retaliatory action. "Don't worry; it's harmless for the time being." She puts her finger into her mouth and clears the blood.

"How did you..." he starts but doesn't know how to finish phrasing his question.

"First off, Sam hates them. While not allergic, they do bring about irritation. I'd have tossed it anyway." She looks at her finger, it is no longer bleeding, but a subtle tremor in her hand is noticeable. She closes her fist and puts her hand down continuing as if it were not an issue. “Whoever ordered them on your behalf, got the information from the background interview one of your agents first did with her when she was in the hospital, and from what we are to believe has all been buried, marked super-secret and only a handful of people have access. That's assuming Sam didn't suggest it herself."

He shakes his head, indicating he had received no suggestion.

"Huh, so Sam didn't send you. Interesting." She lets a moment pass as if re-gathering her thoughts, yet the answer was with her the entire time. She exchanges a glance with Garrett, then gives a subtle giggle under her breath laden with seriousness. "That indicates someone's peaking at things they shouldn't be."

"And you assume this because of--?"

“No assumption, I was there when she told them.” She comes back with strength. “You can double check with her, but I do believe it was the only time she ever mentioned liking them and it was an offhand sarcastic gesture at that. So, it begs the question Special Agent in Charge Garrett, who had access to that interview? And why would they go to these lengths in an attempt to eavesdrop on Sam? Especially after all this time? Even further” --she gives a seesaw motion of her head-- “with the authorized and approved eyes already here?"

"Maybe Sam wasn't the target." He offers a hard look to Amanda.

"Yeah," she says avoiding a confirmation either way.

"I'll look into it."

"Leave it." She takes a hefty gulping drink. "You poke at it and credence gets paid to whatever long dead or made up conspiracy they are trying to unearth."

"And you think that isn't going to?" he asks of the chip and the plant.

"There are many ways it could be rendered useless." She gives a friendly laugh. "To quote Sam --‘kind-of-sort-of-accidentally-on-purpose.'-- whether or not you were here when I repotted it and discovered it is the question. Or did I simply just toss it after you left? I do have to give you credit though; you're far classier than the quarter-a-piece plastic cup with holes in the bottom wrapped in colorful tinfoil."

"Do you have any idea what that cost me?" Garrett defends.

"Two hundred and eighty-two dollars. Oh! Don't get all bent out of shape on me. Look around, if you were me would you let that monstrosity through the door?"

"No," he says with a comfortable laugh and concedes to her point while offering a veiled, yet hopeful compliment. "You'd accept it for what it was, a gift for Sam, and dispose of it when I wasn't around to save me the embarrassment."

"Which tells you...?"

"Either they have no clue what they're up against with you--"

"They call those amateurs," she interrupts.

"Depends on the perspective. It takes a pro to have set up something that thorough yet seemingly benign."

"Or someone soliciting the intrusion." She smiles and takes a sip of her beer.

"You set this up?"

"Me, no. It was more of a collaborative effort."

"You two are--"

"Amazing? Intuitive? Geniuses?"

"I had something else in mind," he says with admirable disdain.

"I'm sure you did,” Amanda says with a laugh. "We'd have let you in on it, but--"

"It would have tipped your hand. What were the two of you playing for?"

"Testing the waters--or better phrased--skipping pebbles to assess the buoyancy."

"For what?"

"Same things as always, interested parties poking at things that SHOULD be long dead, buried and forgotten, but yet keep coming back up to haunt us." Amanda lets out a focused breath, bearing against the trembling in her limbs that is threatening to come visible. "You know that thing Sam does where she sees connections in the smallest most minute details that no one else can? Then expands it out into a whole chain of events that a supercomputer --mine included-- has issues processing?" He nods with an understanding impressed smile. "One of them just played out."

"And that bothers you,” he says hearing it in her voice.

"The timing does, yeah."

"Might I be intrusive enough to inquire as to why?"

"You’re here aren’t you?” she asks hoping he’ll fill in the blanks. When it shows in his expression and body language that he hasn’t, she continues hinting heavily. “Because it could throw a monkey wrench into the real reason you're here?"

"Enlighten me as to what that reason is?"

Amanda shrugs her shoulders and takes a drink, then stares at him in silence, waiting for him to answer his question.

"You don't give up anything do you?" Garrett asks.

"Not easily, no, especially with stakes this high."

"Let's assume those behind that," he says of the transceiver, "were knowledgeable enough about me, you and Sam to have gotten it this far into our circle, wouldn't they have also accounted for you pinging it before it even hit the door? And if it did make it past your gauntlet, that you'd have it immediately scrambled?"

"Scrambled? Such a messy word. I prefer ‘reordered artistically to my design.'"--she gives a subtle laugh then while within the moment--"you know, I could just invite you over for dinner."

"You can't cook. I've heard the stories," Garrett quickly adds with a light tone.

"Ouch."

"And without Sam here?" he leads.

"Word around the water cooler would be that the Special Agent in Charge is having a secret affair, especially with the surveillance dead. I get looked into by various political foes of yours; you'd take heat for conspiring with me and then--no--too much of a hassle. However, it is fun to play isn't it Garrett? Keep them wondering?" She asks using it as a distraction from the pain coursing through her body she is fighting to keep at bay.

"It's not like I'm married," he offers lightly, preferring the less tense nature of the conversation over trying to address her physical status. "I am human after all and do have a personal life. Though admittedly it's not separate from my work, besides you enjoy the company, it's why you keep my beer in the fridge.”

"This is true, but you're not my type," she smiles innocently then winces against a tremor that erupts from her leg up through her body. "And you have a reputation to keep up, associating with the likes of me --at least who they perceive me to be-- would bring up a lot of questions neither of us are prepared to answer."

"When did this get so complicated?" he asks, wanting to inquire if he can be of assistance with her battle against what ails her, but knows from previous encounters it is better he leaves it alone.

Amanda smiles, appreciative of Garrett's understanding. "The day you first walked into that hospital room and started asking questions about a plane crash that by all accounts never happened."

"I was there because of Sam, nothing more,” he defends.

"I know. That part didn't make it complicated." She takes a drink and then shifts the subject. "So why are you really here?" she asks with confidence and strength.

"You sure?" He asks cautiously.

"Have you ever known me not to be?"

"There's a first time for everything."

"And all of the narcissistic, egotistical, self-serving characteristics and behaviors I possess would indicate that's a possibility in what way?"

"I see your point." He takes a drink then looks at her with seriousness. "Job offer."

"Pass," she returns immediately.

"You haven't even heard what it is yet."

"Don't need to, happy where I'm at and have a full plate as it is. Besides, the last one I did for you drew more attention then I'd have liked from those authority-types you associate with. You know how I feel about being out in the world." She gives a shiver --the majority of it real, the minority to bring poignancy to her words. "You never know who is going to recognize me, follow me home, and my imagination goes crazy from there. Not to mention, there are only so many ways to disguise this." She indicates the scar on her face, her leg, the tremors, and her reliance on the crutches.

"You figured it out."

"At great risk," she concedes. "That transceiver is probably some curious party who is looking to make a confirmation, and I just scared the shit out of them by weaving them into a much thicker worldwide conspiracy."

"I'm sure you'll know who is at the other end of it shortly if you don't already."

"My spying eyes only go so far. I'll play with it later, see where it leads."

Out there - Patreon (for all those curious or wanting to support :))

At the Beginning

Adventure Arc - Arc 2

Wilderness Arc - Arc 3

Academy Arc - Arc 4

Nobility Arc - Arc 5

Previously on Leveling up the World...

Book 7 will be available on Amazon and Kindle Wednesday 24th :D

Facing fifty copyettes in close proximity to the emperor was bad enough. The fact that all of them were overseers went beyond even Dallion’s expectations. He should have foreseen it! The way in which they could freely move about the city without the fear of leaving any hints was a giant red flag. Being a new domain ruler, Dallion hadn’t given the matter much thought, but in retrospect, it was obvious.

For one overseer to be a copyette, all of them had to be—at least all the important ones. The time and effort that had been put into this was mind boggling. The Order must have started its plan way back during the first days of the empire, or maybe even before that. The copyette that had impersonated Euryale had put it quite well—they hadn’t replaced individuals, but entire families throughout the centuries. And it wasn’t the case just here. It likely was the same in all seats of power, at least back when there were other countries. The archbishop really controlled the entire world from behind the scenes.

A vortex of spell circles surrounded one of the overseers—a young woman with long platinum hair tied in a ponytail. The spell was too intricate for any human, bearing the hallmarks of original copyette magic. Pan had already initiated the next step in Dallion’s plan—show a copyette for what it was worth. The result was just what anyone would expect.

Aware that the charade was over, all copyettes ignored the “invaders” and charged straight at the emperor. None of them bothered to keep their humanoid form, taking on the native slime-like appearance of their race.

The imperial guard didn’t pause to respond. Although being mere level eighties, they had the equipment and experience to face monsters far greater than themselves. Dozens of combined attacks followed, as half of them clashed with the attackers, while the other half tried to form a living wall around the ruler. The generals also sprung into action, artifact weapons appearing in their hands.

“Guard the nobles!” Dallion ordered Pan, as four copyettes summoned living armor, becoming twenty-foot-tall embodiments of metalins. One flew up to attack Dallion directly, while three others headed to the emperor and his generals.

Where are the golems when you need them? Dallion burst into instances.

The copyettes must have somehow meddled with the orders given to the constructs for them to remain outside of the arena structure, as if forbidden to approach.

Magic symbols formed on the six-foot-wide blade as the armored copyette thrust it at Dallion engaging in a fierce multi attack. The speed was on par with Dallion, forcing him to fly back as he parried the strikes with his two weapons. Spell circles formed on either side, intensifying the attacks.

Knowing the weakness of his enemy, Dallion summoned the de-manasing spell he had learned during his trial in the Purple Moon’s realm. Bolts of lightning shot out, draining the magic of everything they touched.

The living armor’s sword arm froze, then dropped down once the energy keeping it functional was cut off. That didn’t seem to impact the copyette’s fighting capacity one bit. The entire arm was shed off from the shoulder—like the end of a lizard’s tail—and fell upon the people fighting below. In less than a second, a new metal arm materialized, instantly attaching to the missing spot.

A short distance away, the emperor seemed to be doing a lot better. A ray of destruction, twice as strong as anything Dallion could manage, shot through one of the living armors, evaporating it on the spot. The remaining two attempted to use the death of their companion to finish what they had been sent to do, but before they could even reach the legion’s generals, an aether sphere formed around the emperor like a shield.

“Careful!” Dallion shouted as he performed a double spiral attack at the massive armor fighting him. “They’re still overseers!”

The warning should have received a lot more credence. Sadly, it wasn’t. As the double attack threw the living armor hundreds of feet back in the sky, the emperor’s protective sphere shattered. It wasn’t an attack from the surface that had shattered it, however, but the ground itself. Hundreds of stone spikes had emerged from the ground, piercing the emperor’s magnificent clothes. The action had shredded more wealth than entire countries had seen throughout their existence.

Dallion had no doubt that every piece of the emperor’s attire was made in such a fashion to protect him from any and all possible attacks. There probably weren’t more powerful artifacts in the entire world, but as had been demonstrated multiple times, nothing was infallible. Magic threads containing hundreds of illusion spells were wrapped around each of the spikes, forcing even the extraordinary to become as common as clay. The vast majority had no doubt fizzled out, countered by the clothes’ effects, but enough hadn’t.

​

TAMIN III

Health: 0%

Traits:

- AWAKENING 120

- BODY 120

- MIND 120

- REACTION 120

- PERCEPTION 120

- EMPATHY 120

- MAGIC 120

Skills

- ATTACK

- GUARD

- ATHLETICS

- ACROBATICS

- FORGING

- CARVING

- ARTS

- SCHOLAR

- MUSIC

- HERBALISM

- ZOOLOGY

- SPELLCRAFT

Weakness: UNKNOWN

​

A purple rectangle flashed briefly, just enough for Dallion to see that the attack had achieved its purpose. The archbishop’s plotting had finally succeeded. Or had it? The original plan involved Abla taking over. The emperor didn’t have any direct heirs, so the line of succession didn’t matter, not when Abla was the strongest remaining noble within the empire. While he couldn’t measure up to the emperor, once he became ruler, he’d command the same amount of troops and would be the perfect fit for an ally. All that Dallion needed to do was make sure that he survived long enough.

“Protect Abla!” he shouted.

A black sphere surrounded the emperor, blocking everything from view. It didn’t give off a sensation of void matter. One possibility was that the copyettes were planning to replace him here and now. That could prove more difficult than one might imagine, though. Copyettes could do a lot of things, copying levels greater than their own remained out of reach.

​

MAJOR WOUND

Your health has been reduced by 50%

​

The living armor sword flew through tens of Dallion’s instances, landing in the noble-packed stands. The aether walls that Pan had created merely managed to slow it down, leading to the death of hundreds.

“Damn you!” Dallion hissed. He wanted to charge at the copyette who had done this, but it was more vital that he keep Abla alive.

The duke, like all the nobles, was out of commission—scores of magic threads attached to him to power the domain’s shell. Right now, he was little more than a puppet of a dead puppet master.

​

REALM RESTORED

Shell integrity 5%

​

A rectangle flickered before disappearing again. The barrier had been recreated, separating Euryale from events on the ground. That was a good thing, although it also meant she’d be on her own, stopping any potential rockets that rained down from the sky.

Another living armor emerged on the copyette’s side. Despite significant losses, the imperial guards had managed to stop the overall copyette advance, slashing the enemy’s number by half. The generals were also doing a rather good job, five of them taking on a living armor like ants fighting a hornet.

“I can’t keep this up forever,” Pan said, casting protective layer after protective layer on the ground. At present, he was the only thing keeping the Order’s copyettes from using the realm of the city as a ball of clay.

The mass of slime on the ground suddenly doubled. Aware that they couldn’t win in a direct competition of skill, the creatures were making an attempt to overrun the guards with volume. Each copyette cloned into two, then four, then eight.

“Abla!” Dallion sent out a targeted music attack, snapping half of the magic threads connecting the noble to the realm.

There was no time to repeat the attack. A living armor was already flying towards Abla, forcing Dallion to engage it mid-flight.

An explosive clash thundered as the two of them slammed into each other.

​

MINOR WOUND

Your health has been reduced by 5%

​

The pain passed through Dallion’s body, barely lingering behind. His opponent suffered significantly worse. The cracklings that had been clinging onto Dallion till now leaped onto the sky silver armor sinking their fangs in. Miniature cracks appeared all over the glistening surface. It didn’t end there. In less than a second, the pack merged together, forming the massive body of Nox. Eyes and mouths covered the large black silhouette as the puma bit into the armor’s neck.

An inhuman scream of terror split the air, as the copyette within the armor was devoured by Dallion’s familiar. Despite all the cracks seeming shallow, they continued further in, going into the core of the armor. Once they came into contact with the slime, it could be said it was already too late.

The living armor flew up into the air, struggling to shake off the crackling puma, but to no avail.

Good one, Nox! Dallion thought as he hovered an inch from the ground beside Abla.

“Abla,” he said, slicing through the remaining magic threads with one clean strike. “Snap out of it.”

The duke blinked, sapience slowly returning to his glance.

“The emperor’s dead,” Dallion said, dozens of instances keeping watch in case of other surprise attacks. “Can you fight?”

“Yes…” Hesitation filled Abla’s voice. “I don’t have my gear. They took it before the ceremony.”

Of course they did. Dallion cursed internally. Abla’s dragon sword would have come quite handy right now.

Dallion made an arc strike with his aura sword, casting five spells. Most of them covered the duke with large chunks of aether armor. The last summoned his whip blade.

“Gleam, take care of him,” Dallion handed the weapon to Abla.

Sure. The shardfly replied in a disappointed voice, then instantly contracted as she was held by the duke.

“Who are we fighting?” Abla split into instances, one of them examining the blade he was given. Emanations of doubt emanated from him.

“Anything that attacks you,” Dallion replied.

A part of the guard cordon collapsed as several copyettes simultaneously expanded, shooting out tentacles of slime in all directions. The attack caused more injury than death, but forced the people to move away in an effort to evade it, creating an opening in the defense.

Damn it! Dallion summoned a clay cylinder.

Alas, there was no position from which to use it. Releasing a ray of destruction would burn through thousands of nobles, continuing on into the city. There was the option of downing another living armor, which was what he ultimately did, scorching a hole that took out half its body.

There was no moment for cheer. Two armors remained, not to mention close to twenty copyettes pouring towards the central part of the structure like a tidal wave. Pan kept on casting spells by the dozen, yet with all the attention focused on him, he was more focused on defense. The wave kept advancing until they reached a legion general.

The man attempted combined athletic, guard, attack, and arts in an attempt to slow the enemy’s progress, but was quickly overwhelmed. Slime tentacles pierced through him, causing more damage that any person could recover from.

Just then, the black sphere surrounding the emperor exploded. Dozens of purple rays of light blasted out into the open. Not in the least concerned with collateral damage, the rays burned through copyettes and humans alike as well as the arena structure beyond it.

Seeing the threat, Dallion reacted instantly, grabbing Abla and flying up into the air, where the rays were a lot more sparse.

“What the—” The duke didn’t manage to finish his question.

Dallion couldn’t say a word, either, staring at a practical impossibility. Below them, in the spot where the black sphere had been, standing on crushed spikes of stone and magic, was the emperor and he didn’t seem in the least bit wounded.

Next

​

Malia cover

[First Chapter] | [Previous Chapter] | [Next Chapter]

***

We gave ourselves a moment to rest beneath the fountain spray. Malia hummed in content, an arm over my chest and a wing sheltering us from the sourceless light of my maas.

I kissed the top of her head. “So you think Hasda should press on.”

“I don’t see why not.” She let out a happy sigh.

“What if the rat is no help?”

“Promise him whatever he wants. If it can’t be done, I’ll take care of it.” Her slitted eyes regarded me above a sly grin.

I tried not to frown. “You know Hasda won’t like that.”

“Which is precisely why he won’t know when it’s been handled.” Malia sighed. “He was raised as a soldier, not a politician, and even then he struggles enough with subterfuge and underhanded tactics. It’s not his fault he can only stomach certain decisions, sacrifice men who’ve sworn themselves to him and who willingly pay the cost. So I won’t burden him with things he can’t bear.”

“While you might be right, for his sake, I’d like to give a good faith effort.”

“If we must.” Sighing with much less enthusiasm, she drummed her fingers on my chest. “This rat, he might be convinced to take a lesser gift.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“You’ll need to meet with him and discover his motivations.” Her fingernails traced circles on my skin. “If it’s power he wants, perhaps granting him an empowered body would be enough. Longer limbs, articulate thumbs, useful things that other rats lack. Or perhaps something like the gift of human speech, if he desires influence and respect. I can’t imagine he wants riches, although if it’s a strong line of heirs…Tarrha could craft him a suitable harem.”

I chuckled.

Malia smiled as well. “She’d certainly take no convincing. ‘Bestow upon these rodents the strongest aphrodisiacs you can muster, and the greatest fertility they can bear.’ I’ve heard mice are her favorite.”

“I’ll let you do the talking, then, when the time comes. You have such a way with words.”

“Among other things.” Her eyes flashed.

I poked her nose. “None of that, now. I need to get back to Hasda before he makes promises he can’t keep, or finishes the Trial without us.”

Pulling her wing back, she sighed and stretched. “As dowsing water to a flame, so are your words to my heart. Very well, my love, let us depart.”

I watched her back as she rose, half admiring the way her muscles rippled and half wary. “I have a feeling I’ll be paying my own tribute later.”

“You have the right of it.” She grinned over her shoulder. “And I’ll have plenty of time to think of proper recompense.”

Grunting, I pulled myself up by the fountain ledge.

Her portal, still trimmed in crimson, hissed open. “I’ll try to keep Thrax from outpacing Hasda. But I might have to confront Vythar, if we’re forced to delay long enough. So make sure Hasda has a fallback in case he has to go it alone.”

“That reminds me.” Tugging my own portal open, I shook my head. “Kydon said that, were Hasda to rejoin Thrax, you would need to withdraw, else the Trial is void.”

“Did he now?” Lips pursed, Malia halted halfway through. “And if I take on Vythar by myself?”

I frowned. “I can’t see why not, given that he’s neither Carthian nor directly involved with the Trial.”

Malia nodded. “Then warn me if Hasda is coming, and I’ll break off to deal with the Elthiians.”

And with that, she slipped through her portal, pulling it shut behind her.

My own portal spit me back into the woods, an early morning chill coating the empty space where Hasda and his men had camped. Tracks, and Kydon’s presence, pointed north, not too far distant. A few lengthened stride caught me up to them easily.

“Perfect timing, actually.” Hasda rose from a crouch as I slowed. “The rat king wants to meet with us. His emissary will show us the way to his cave.”

“You all go ahead,” one of his men said. “I’ll scout the river.”

Hasda’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, yeah.” The man forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Frowning, Hasda shook his head. “Well, if you think it’s best, Miyidh.”

The man nodded, saluted, and set off southward.

“Do you want me to accompany him?” I asked. Not that I wanted to, but Hasda had asked before, and I would go if he needed.

He shook his head. “We talked about it last night. If the pull becomes too strong, they’ll carry themselves back. Massan was too weak to do it himself.” He huffed a laugh. “We’ll give them that much dignity, at least.”

A chitter at his feet caused him to sidestep.

“The one I spoke of has returned,” he said, kneeling. “Give us a moment to gather our things, and we’ll follow you to the cave.”

Once they were ready, Hasda and his men trailed behind the black-furred rat that appeared to lead them. I slipped under the Veil with Kydon, but kept a close distance to Hasda. Scampering like a beast alight, the rat led them on a twisting path through tangled underbrush.

The rat led them at a western slant, angling away from the center of the woods. It was odd, hearing the rustle of the underbrush and the scratching of the rat’s feet in a forest once suffocated by silence. Strangely, they also went unscathed by undead ambush, both animal and Sleepless.

When they’d been traveling for perhaps an hour, they came upon a mound of rotting flesh, swarmed by flies. The lumpy brown pile was composed of decaying mice, their eyes yellowed not by death, but undeath. When the rat neared the pile, it sat on its haunches and chittered at Hasda for a bit before continuing on. His men, of which six remained, asked him what the rat had said, and Hasda relayed that the rodents had cleared a potential ambush as a “sign of good faith.”

I frowned. If the rat king was willing to exert himself this much already, he must be extremely confident in both our ability to bequeath him divinity, and his own to handle it. Kydon mentioned the same, and laughed when I told him that Malia thought the coilna might prove a sufficient substitute with their sorcery. But he didn’t deny it as a possibility, so if we could convince them—and the rat accepted—then we had a route to success.

Time crept by at a wearied pace. As afternoon ushered Ulti past the zenith of the sky, the rat finally led Hasda to their destination: a recess that passed for a cave in the side of a short hill. A stout oak cloaked the entrance, its leaves serving as curtain and its roots as supports. With a quick twitter, the rat disappeared inside.

After a short moment, the rat returned and chattered at Hasda.

“Dad, are you able to join us?” Hasda called. “The rat king has granted us an audience. His herald says the recess is deeper than it looks.

And so it was. I dropped the Veil and joined Hasda, who pushed the low-hanging branches out of the way. Behind the natural screen, the hollow dipped, creating a series of ledges that led under the hillside. Hasda dropped down, following as the rat scurried into the darkness. He had to hunch, more scooting along on his knees than walking, but he made it in nevertheless.

I had it worse. Although I stooped, my back scraped the ceiling and knocked showers of dirt down my robes. Occasionally, the uneven surface predicted my advance and dropped clumps into my eyes.

Thankfully, the bowl that served as the rat king’s throne room wasn’t far. The stretch to reach it was perhaps a spear length, a distance that was barely anything walked normally but felt far longer, cramped as we were. Shafts of light which shouldn’t have been there illuminated the space, the sunshine coming from camouflaged openings.

Even with the beams to trace their source, I couldn’t spot the holes, though Hasda blocking most of my view didn’t help. The concealment had the feel of magic, though not the smell. Rich, earthy scents filled the air, masking Hasda’s sweat. He’d stopped, leaving me just enough space to his left to get a view of the room—

When I saw the rat king, I paused.

Not only was it the fattest rat I’d ever seen, but it was also the wildest. Nestled into a bleached bear skull, which served as its throne, it wielded a sharpened ivory claw like a scepter. Or perhaps a sword. The proportions were right for that.

While its feet rested on the canines, its tail wended through the nostril cavity. Tied to this tallow-hued tail was a knot of smaller ones, which were still attached to their living owners. Five rats, one brown, two black, a gray, and a white, comprised the knotted rodents, who gnawed at a flesh-flecked bone of unknown origin.

All put together, the bound rats were only slightly larger than the rat seated in the skull. They seemed unperturbed by their fate, and the rat upon its throne put on airs, as if it were not confined to the bone by the animals ensnared in its tail. The rat king even seemed to smile as it saw Hasda. When it noticed me, however, its eyes gleamed in a way that reminded me of Malia.

Oh, I did not like that.

Rowen sighed, arms folded against the railing of the sylphwing. That little voice in the back of his head screamed that he was putting a lot of faith in the railing’s ability to hold him, and pointed out exactly how far he’d have to fall if he tumbled over the edge.

The railing seemed sturdy enough, though, and the longer he stood there, looking out over the deeproads, the less the heights bothered him. It was almost like being on a plane—he was fully aware of how high up they were, he could see it, but between the postage-stamp scale of everything laid out below him and the eerie, near-still air provided by the spell at the ship’s bow, his brain seemed shockingly willing to wave the fall off as a threat.

Glancing over his shoulder, he stole a look to where Aloe sat on the bench behind him. She was staring at the decks, her eyelids puffy and drooping. The sight put a twinge of worry in him. If he’d pieced together what she was saying, that weird magical explosion thing she’d done could happen again as long as they stayed in the Deeproads. She looked like she could really use the rest—but it shouldn’t happen here.

Before he could turn fully toward her, though, her eyes opened—and she chuckled at him. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice raspy. “I’m not going to sleep. I’m good a while longer.”

“You’re saying that,” Rowen said, shooting her a glare. Would she worry about herself for once? All she was doing was making more trouble for him. “But I’m looking right at you and I’m not so sure.”

Aloe rolled her eyes. “Rowen-”

“I know,” Rowen said. Shaking his head, he turned back around, facing the rail. “Look, you’re my ticket out of here. Kinda feeling like I have to look after you a little.” Who would’ve thought it—last week he was trying to make sure he had enough office-appropriate shirts to wear, and now he was trying to play babysitter to some two-hundred-year-old not-elf.

With Aloe’s dry laughter whispering out into the thin air behind him, he leaned on the railing again, resting his chin on his hands. At least it was quiet. The ship had been sailing from village to village for the last hour, pausing at each for a few passengers to disembark and the crew to chuck a postbag off. He wasn’t sure exactly how long this flight of theirs would be, but from the steadily-dwindling numbers of their fellows, he had to assume it was coming to an end.

Rowen would not complain about that. He glanced back out to the deeproads. The islands and lakes had vanished somewhere behind them. A mountain rose up off their port side, forests curling down off its slopes toward the rolling hills that lay off their starboard.

A shiver ran down his arms. He rubbed a hand across them, eyes lingering on that mountain, those forests. It was so easy for him to just sort of stare out there, seeing the world around them as just a notably-idyllic landscape like he might find back on Earth. They had mountains and forests, after all.

But there were tiny details that set the scene apart. Little things mixed in with the rest that made this place indelibly different. The sides of the mountain were too sharp, its peaks too pointed. Violet light glimmered around its highest peak, casting the faintest glow across even their ship. Little bits of rock and soil floated around its slopes, like they were the pieces of mountain that were missing, ripped off and thrown away. Every now and then, he saw a shadow cross the treetops below—a shadow that was way, way too big. This place wasn’t anything like Earth. It was alien, and he couldn’t forget that.

“What’s that?” he murmured, leaning forward. His brow furrowed. Something was shifting on the horizon, seething with a life of its own.

“Hmm?” Aloe said behind him. “What’s what, now?”

“I don’t know,” Rowen said. He squinted, trying to see through the growing darkness. “It’s like…fog? Like someone drew a straight line with fog.” It curled down off the slopes of the mountain, swallowing any view of what lay beyond.

“Ah,” Aloe said—and when he glanced over, she had a faint smile on her face. Standing with a groan, she crossed to the railing alongside him. “That’s the rift.”

“Rift?” Rowen said. The fog only grew thicker as they pulled up on a tangent to it, their bow turning ever-so-slightly away. “What’s a rift?”

“The edge of the Deeproads,” Aloe said.

Edge? His head snapped back around. “Like it ends?” he said.

“Exactly.” There was a crunch of wood, and they both glanced over to where a crewmember had dropped a crate. His companions hurried over, helping him scoop it back up again.

None of them looked happy, Rowen realized. They were all a bit too pale, although one of them looked like he was formed entirely from clay, and he wasn’t quite sure his skin actually changed color. All of them were whispering and glancing out towards the fog, even as they went about their business.

“They’re all freaked out,” Rowen said, still watching them. “Why? How does this place just end?” This place was just so big. Sure, he’d seen shells before, but this had seemed…different. “Why are they all panicking?”

“One question at a time,” Aloe mumbled. She rubbed a hand across her eyes, pressing in a long, slow circle. “This is what I meant before. The Deeproads is a road. The heart of the road follows the path Ora took to get to Earth. The path she created. The rest of it?” She waved toward the forests, the mountain. The fog. “Ora’s descendants wandered outward, creating land as they went. They weren’t as strong as her, but they could still create the path where there was nothing. But it couldn’t go on forever.”

“So there’s an edge,” Rowen said. His head spun.

“Yep.”

“And what’s beyond it?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know—definitely not when the thing looked close enough to throw a rock at, and there were little wispy fingers of hazy fog reaching out toward them. The sails overhead brightened, pulling them on a little faster.

“Nothing,” Aloe said. “A hole in reality.” Her eyebrow arched, and she glanced over to him. “Do not go near it. Important safety tip.”

“Message received,” Rowen said. Did not have to tell him twice. “And…that’s why everyone looks so anxious? Because this thing is the edge of the world and they’re worried about getting too close?”

He expected another quick, bantering reply. Instead, he got a long, pensive silence. He glanced over, confused. “Aloe?”

Her eyes flicked over, their green all but rendered black by the faint light. “Sort of,” she said at last. “But…it’s not that simple.”

Aloe shook her head, draping herself across the railing. The wood and metal tinked gently against her crystal necklace. She waved a hand out toward the fog, eyes glued to the distant grey. “Ora built this reality. Her and her children. And the Pillars anchor it in place, along with the heartgates.” Her other hand jabbed back toward where they’d come from. “But…Ora died six hundred years ago. The magic is old.”

“Old?” Rowen said. His heartbeat pounded a little faster, and he glanced out to the rift again. “Wait, like it’s failing or something? Are we going to-”

“Would you keep your voice down before we get tossed over the edge?” Aloe said, shooting him a look. Her voice was still light and jovial, but the look was sharp. “No. It’s…It’s nothing so severe.”

“Okay, so it’s just failing a little?” Rowen said. He did say it in a mutter this time, leaning a little closer to Aloe.

She let out a huff. “You don’t have to put it like that.” When Rowen didn’t chime in again, she grimaced. “It’s…I used the animal hide analogy before. That the deeproads are like a big skin that’s been pulled taut.” Her hands came together, one flat with the other pointing downward over it. “It’s like the deeproads have begun to…stretch, just a little. Some parts of it aren’t as taut as they once were. Some of them sink a little.”

“Into what?” Rowen said. “I thought you said the only thing out there is-”

“Nothing,” Aloe said. “Right. Exactly.”

His eyes widened—and finally, he connected it with what the clerk had said back at the aviary. “Sinkholes.”

A smile flashed across Aloe’s face, and she nodded. She leaned back to brace her elbows on the railing, clasping her hands out over the edge. “These weak spots can be dangerous,” she said. “But it’s not the whole deeproads. Most places are perfectly stable, and when that changes, you’ve usually got plenty of warning.

“Usually,” Rowen said. “You pick the best words.”

Aloe chuckled, her gaze dropping. Her hands tightened. “Yeah,” she murmured. “The world is a dangerous place. You’re never going to be entirely without risk.” Blinking, she looked back up, her shoulders loosening. “But this isn’t a big one. Thousands of Orrans live here, Rowen. Tens of thousands. At least. You don’t have to worry about your safety.”

He nodded, forcing a smile, and tried to really take her words to heart. If this was really so dangerous, they wouldn’t be here. He’d just have preferred to know about all this going in, before they were out on a flying ship staring down the maw of the void itself.

The fog curled lazily, roiling as it enveloped the landscape below. The hollow thud of footsteps rang out—and as he looked up, his veins flooding with ice, he saw two of the crew lugging a sack of packages over to the railing.

There was none of the routine he’d come to expect over the last hour. They didn’t stop. They barely even slowed, the sylphwing drooping lower in the sky until their belly brushed against the fog. The two Orrans seemed to be watching for some sort of sign. And they must’ve found it, because one of them muttered something inaudible, and they shoved the bag over the railing.

Rowen leaned over the edge as it fell, tracing the bag’s package. His eyes widened There. Almost hidden within the fog, he could just barely make out the gleam of village lights, ensconced in the forest. The bag tumbled down into their midst, and the ship accelerated again, climbing higher.

“Ashimore,” Aloe said, looking down at the village with a quiet regret in her eyes. “Sad. I didn’t know the sinkhole had spread this far. It’s a nice town.”

“It’s collapsing?” Rowen said. Did that mean this whole town was doomed? “But- What happens next? What’ll-”

“If the deeproads sag too far, there won’t be a reality to support this realm anymore,” Aloe said, offering him a tiny, sad smile. “It’s not imminent, but unless the sinkhole is plugged…Eventually, the fabric of the deeproads would be eaten away. Everything that used to be attached to it would be dropped into the wellspring that flows beneath.”

“Your magic river,” Rowen said. “The one that’s dry on Earth. Right?” He brightened a little at Aloe’s nod, but the moment of cheer was fleeting. He couldn’t take any satisfaction from being right, not when there was a town beneath them perched on the edge of nothingness.

“So what do they do?” he said, more quietly. His eyes drifted over to Aloe. “Is there a way to stop the sinkhole?”

“Sometimes,” Aloe said. The landscape below was starting to flatten, the foothills of the mountain vanishing under trees that grew taller and taller. “There are some bloodlines suited to interacting with reality like that. And while no truebloods of her line were ever born, Ora does have descendants of her own.” She gestured back toward the receding patch of fog. “They can’t fix the damage already done, but if her princes and princesses come out here to reinforce the place, if they bring their magic and use it, they can help shore the place up. Keep more damage from being done.”

“No pressure,” Rowen said.

“It’s not something I ever envied them,” Aloe murmured, a crooked smile slipping across her face. “But they’re vital to our society. Without them…I really don’t know what would happen to the deeproads.”

“This is your guys’ only way home,” Rowen said. The thought was sadder than he’d bargained on. “Right?”

Aloe shook her head, though. “This is my home,” she said, still wearing that lopsided smile. “And while the Deeproads goes a lot of the way back to the old lands, Ora ripped the road between us and them apart with her bare hands. No one will be following us—and there’s no going back.”

She turned, leaning back against the railing. Her gaze climbed to the star-studded sky. “But if something ever happened to this place, everything would change,” she said softly. “Our people couldn’t hide here anymore. We could still make shells, and maybe that would be enough for some people—but what of the creatures who live here? And could we really survive in tiny glass jars, sealed tight against the void?”

“So what’s the alternative, if that’s a no-go?” Rowen said. They’d all have to go somewhere, after all. There was an entire nation down here, from what she’d said. “You think-”

“I think we’d have to finally consider sharing Earth,” Aloe said. “Properly. If we couldn’t hide in the Deeproads, something else would have to take its place.”

His lips parted gently. Come to Earth? Them?

The thought was baffling. That would change…everything. Aloe was right. Humanity had no clue what was going on around them. If the Orrans still didn’t consider humans to be people, what would happen then? All hell would break loose.

And if the Children of Ora are too busy dealing with the chaos of two worlds colliding, they wouldn’t have time to chase after one human who knew they existed, his thoughts whispered. Would they even care that you know, anymore? You could be safe.

He held his breath, eyes widening. That…was true. If something happened to the Deeproads, he’d almost certainly be safe. He could make his getaway at his leisure.

The Deeproads was a place of magic—and he could shred magic. With a sickening lurch, he realized this might not be impossible for him. All he had to do was find a way to use his magic on those heartgate things, and-

And the Deeproads would collapse into the void, dragging thousands of innocent Orrans to their deaths with it. The thought hit him like a freight train, hard enough to rock him back on his heels.

“Rowen?” Aloe said, looking over. “You good?”

“J-Just tired,” he said. “That’s all.”

His mind was still filled with horror at the twisted, fucked-up concept he’d somehow managed to cobble together. No. Hell no. That wasn’t the right answer. Sure, he was pissed—but if he killed thousands of unsuspecting people to save his own skin, how could he ever sleep again?

Aloe still didn’t look reassured, so he plastered a smile onto his face, wobbling back toward the bench. His legs were jello as he dropped back onto it, but his thoughts were crystal clear. He was better than that. He didn’t need to kill to earn his place in the world.

He’d find another way.

—----------------------------

The wooden stairs boomed beneath their feet as they trudged down the stairs leading away from the aviary. “So this is it?” Rowen said. He masked a yawn, fighting against watery eyes.

“This is it,” Aloe said with a groan, giving the town in front of them a hard look. “Lanioch. Edge city to Emerald Hills.”

Those rolling hills from before were back, laid out in picture-perfect crisscrosses of green and brown. The unmistakable rows of crops growing across each and every rise marked the farmlands just as clearly as back home. The town ahead looked small, but cozy, with tall, narrow buildings of white stone and blue-grey wood scattered up behind a low wall.

Exhaustion dragged at his every movement, but Rowen couldn’t help but have a bit of a stare at the town as they trudged closer. The eaves on the buildings were curved at the tops and edges, lounging across their walls like a lazy cat sprawled out for a midday nap. Carts were left alongside each home, and a fair few of them were already loaded with bushels of grain.

“Looks like a nice place,” he mumbled, giving the buildings a cursory nod.

“I always did love the town,” Aloe said, a wistful note in her voice. He looked over to her. She was drinking in the sight of the buildings just as much as him, a smile on her lips. As if she could feel his stare, she eyed him. “I summered in Emerald Hills about fifty years ago.”

“So recent,” Rowen said. His cheeks flushed. It was always hard to remember that the woman—who didn’t look that much older than his seniors at college—had enough age behind her to look down on him like a precocious child.

Aloe chuckled, nodding. “It’s been a while. I’m sure it hasn’t changed too much, though. And…Yep, see there?”

She raised a hand, pointing to a field just visible behind the town’s wall. The ground there was beaten flat, with cobblestone paths leading around squares in the dirt, but…nothing had been built. Rowen’s brow furrowed.

“A field?” he said.

“Yep,” Aloe said. She trotted on ahead, waving for him to follow. “Come on. We’re almost home, and then you can sleep.”

That sounded pretty good—although he wasn’t sure how exactly he was going to get any rest when they were in the Deeproads and Aloe might go all Super Saiyan again at any moment.

Numb and wordless, he trailed behind her as she crossed through the gates, coming to a stop in front of that well-worn field.

“I’m a member of the Merchant Accords,” Aloe said. She unhooked the crystal necklace, taking the stone in hand. “The Dancing Dragon isn’t unique, you know.”

With her other hand, she picked out an arpeggio on the kalimba hanging from her hip. The sound resonated outward—and ahead of them, a light gleamed, reflected in the crystal she held.

It spread like wildfire, erupting to pour outward into a light-limned framework. Second by second, the glow grew brighter, turning the poor town’s night to day for a horrifying heartbeat.

When the light went out, darkening like a sheet had been thrown over the place, a structure loomed in front of them. Rowen took a step toward it, letting his gaze sweep over the thing.

The lines of it were unfamiliar, all wooden beams with a stone-tile roof, but…was it really so unfamiliar? If he squinted at it, he could see the wide-open central room that was the shop floor. The stairs built out alongside it, climbing to a second story that perched over the top. It had a stable off to one side, too—and windows, set all into the second floor and the side of the kitchen. And unmistakably, the familiar ironwork sign of The Dancing Dragon sat over the front door, welcoming them in.

Rowen grinned, even though he felt about to fall down. We’re almost home, Aloe had said. He hadn’t realized she meant it quite so literally. “That’s a pretty neat trick,” he said. His voice rasped around the edges.

Aloe let her now-empty hands fall, flashing a smile his way. “Isn’t it? Way better than camping. Come on.” She laid a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find something to eat, and then both of us should get some rest.”

Rowen nodded, still baffled. With one last look to the warm, rugged shape of the Dragon, he let Aloe lead him inside.

Chapter 15

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That night, even though she was as exhausted as usual, Madeline struggled to fall asleep. Even the soothing sound of static — Billie trying to make contact with their allies on the outside in the bunk above, thankfully masked by the breathing and snoring and grunting of their bunkmates — couldn’t help her drift off. Her thoughts were spinning with possibilities.

If the guard actually found Joe for Billie, what then? Would he join them here? Would they join him elsewhere? She was surprised to admit it after such a short time here, but she would be sad to give up the outside job of farmwork for anything else — though of course, any sacrifice was worth it to be reunited with loved ones.

She was so wrapped up in her own head, she almost didn’t notice when the hiss of static was replaced by another voice rather than Billie’s.

“Hello? Is that you Billie?”

Lena!

Madeline sat bolt upright, almost hitting her head on the bunk above. Squinting through the darkness, she scanned the room, checking to see if anyone else seemed to have heard. But exhausted as they were by the manual labour, everyone still seemed to be sound asleep. Besides, with the snoring and grunting and breathing of forty or so people, she just had to hope that Billie’s and Lena’s quiet whispering was only audible to her. And that anyone who did hear wouldn’t rat them out.

As she scrambled up the ladder to join Billie huddled over the walkie under the blankets, they grinned at her. “Yes, it’s me,” Billie whispered back. “What took you so long?”

“Do you know how hard it is searching for a lego block and UV paint trail in an area crawling with Poiloogs without attracting attention?”

The elation and relief swelling in Madeline’s chest bubbled up out of her as a giggle. “It’s really good to hear your voice, Lena,” she said.

“Madeline! It’s good to hear your voices too! How are you both getting on in there?”

The pair of them looked at each other. “Tired.”

“I was hoping for a little more detail… You know, the whole plan of you giving us information about the Poiloogs’ base that we can actually use…”

Billie rolled their eyes at Madeline, forcing her to stifle another giggle.

“Why don’t you at least try and get some sleep?” they whispered. “I can fill her in.”

“Are you kidding? You think I could sleep right now.”

“Fair enough. Come on then, you start.”

As they pressed down the button, Madeline started reciting everything that had happened since the moment the Poiloog had burst into the SU atrium.

When she got to the part about the guards mentioning that they could find people in the system for them, Lena interrupted. “Can they find anyone for you? You don’t have to be related or anything?”

“Nope, anyone,” she confirmed. Then, realisation dawned. Though she and Billie were there for very specific people, they weren’t the only ones who were a part of this mission. “Would you be able to collect a list of people everyone wants to find? I can’t promise much, it sounded like it will take quite a while, but we can at least try.”

When Madeline began to tire, Billie took over the retelling, with her nestled into their side. Their whispered voice resonated in their chest as they spoke, making her head tickle as she let their words wash over her.

She woke the next morning with a start when the lights came on, half-lying on top of Billie with the walkie digging into her back. The bed squeaked under them as they both sat up. As they rubbed the sleep from their eyes, they glanced at each other, and Madeline watched as a wide grin spread across Billie’s face, a mirror of her own.

That day in the orchard seemed to pass much more quickly than the others. Madeline was practically whistling while she worked.

She knew that it wasn’t like they had any kind of escape plan — and it was entirely possible that they never would — but progress was being made on all fronts. Marcus was finding Joe for them. They’d made contact with their allies. And they were still alive and together.

There might have been a few hiccups along the way, but all in all, Madeline was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly everything was going.

The next few nights were spent recounting every detail they could think of about the layout of the complex they were in and how the operations were run, along with Lena passing on a list of around fifty names for them to enquire about.

Given how long they seemed to have to wait between enquiries, the task seemed somewhat insurmountable. But it wasn’t like time was in short supply. And eager as she might be to have her freedom and free time back, spending a little longer in this place wasn’t the worst thing in the world. The work was hard, but it wasn’t that bad. Now that she was getting into the swing of things, she was confident she could keep this up almost indefinitely. Perhaps, with time, she’d even be able to get used to the cold sweep of terror that washed over her every time a Poiloog scuttled past. The food was good too, which certainly didn’t hurt. And she was here with Billie.

Her trips up to the top bunk became more and more frequent when no one in the dormitory seemed to complain. Falling asleep in each other's arms was something they never could have done on the outside. It would have been too dangerous. Now they could do it every night.

Yes. As much as she hated helping the Poiloogs at all, she had to admit that there would certainly be worse fates than having to spend months or even years here with the person she loved.

While they were still waiting to hear back about Joe — and still in contact with Lena every night — the apple harvest finally came to an end and they were moved to the potato fields. In a way, the change of pace was welcome. Being bent over all day digging in the dirt may not have sounded as picturesque as working in an orchard, but in reality the work was no worse. Not that it was really any better either. Just different.

The soil was starting to get a touch of frost to it, the cold seeping into Madeline’s fingers. But there was something comforting about the earthy, musky smell. And though its touch bit slightly, it was wonderful feeling the earth beneath her fingertips, as if at one with nature.

It was easier to learn this new role than it had been the first one too, and soon she was able to sink into a rhythm, breath condensing in the air in front of her as she moved up and down the rows. She was still exhausted when she got back to the dormitory each night, but in a way, it was a good kind of exhaustion. A hard day’s work followed by a hearty warm meal and a nice warm bed was a satisfying enough existence. And now that she’d adjusted to the routine, she found that she had a little more energy left over when her free day came around, able to fully enjoy the time she spent with Billie.

Of course, it helped that there now seemed to be some light at the end of the tunnel. Marcus was enquiring about Billie’s brother for them. They were in contact with Lena and their allies outside. Billie and her were alive and together. Everything was back on track.

That was, until Marcus returned to their bunk one evening, three weeks after his initial visit.

“Madeline. Billie.” He nodded at each of them in turn.

Both of them pushed themselves up from their lounging position, sitting straight.

“Hello,” Madeline said with a smile. “Any news?”

He glanced between her and Billie, the ever-present smile conspicuously absent from his face. “I’m afraid not. We couldn’t find any record of a Joe Michaels in our system.”

Billie shifted beside her, opening their mouth to speak.

The guard raised a hand to forestall her questions. “I also made sure to check anyone who might match the description you gave me, in case he gave a fake name. I have some pictures for you to look at, just in case.”

He held out a screen, swiping across to reveal the next face every time Billie shook their head. Madeline watched their expression grow more and more strained with every one until eventually, there were no more photos left.

Marcus gave them a sympathetic smile as he took the screen back. “I’m sorry. Unless he looks drastically different to the man you described, he isn’t in our systems. That means he’s either still out in the world or…” He winced slightly. “But, seeing as I couldn’t find your brother for you, that means you are free to ask after someone else if you’d like.”

Billie nodded. Downcast eyes glazed over slightly. “Errr… Yeah… Sure… There’s this kid called Liam. Madeline can tell you more.”

Madeline longed to reach out and embrace them. To comfort them. But there would be time for that later.

She laid a hand gently on theirs before turning to the guard. “His name is Liam Davies. He’s around twelve or thirteen I think. He’s around this tall.” She gestured with her hand. “He has mousy hair which is kind of curly and pale, and he has freckled skin.” She paused. Surely she knew him better than this. There must be some distinctive feature…

“That’s great,” Marcus said, cutting off her thought. “And the way you’re doing with work, I’ll likely be back for you again soon if there’s anyone else you’d like to find or any other perks we can arrange.”

Madeline smiled. At least with both of them working well, they’d be able to start to make a dent in the group’s list.

Before Marcus left, he turned to Billie. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t find Joe for you.”

They nodded wordlessly.

As the guard walked away, Madeline snaked an arm around her love’s shoulders. They trembled beneath her.

“I should have known that he’d never let them take him alive.” Their voice cracked, eyes swimming.

Madeline drew them into her chest and held them tight as they let the tears flow.

Author's Note: Next chapter due on 28th April