I made my way back from the bar, heading towards the glass wall overlooking the snow-clad streets of Hightown where we’d claimed our tables. I had to navigate through the thickest crowds I’d ever witnessed in the Mare, and there were the additional obstacles known as Time Trees. The coniferous things were as big as Twelve Hells and twice as prickly, sitting there festooned in green and gold tinsel. Their needles were blue-white spines that changed colour in the first few days of Mortifost, turning dark-green again only when the festive season was over.


    The bards, a five-piece band, had given up singing the cheesy Yearsend tunes they’d been performing when we first arrived. The families out dining with their young children had all left, making more room for drinkers. Now a moody ballad rippled bittersweetly from their instruments, their voices warbling with angst:


    You’re in a dream


    Finding all the ways you are


    You’re on a journey


    I cannot follow


    But I’ll wait for you right here


    You’re gone


    In this moment


    I stand


    Blinded by the sun


    But you’re gone


    On your own


    And I can’t close my eyes


    I can’t look away


    When your shadow is there


    By night or day, moon or sun


    Every direction I face


    Like the rose, brittle upon your pillow


    It helps me move on


    But when will my tears come?


    When will my sorrow fall?


    You’re gone


    In this moment


    I stand


    Blinded and alone


    But you’re gone


    I’m alone


    And I stand


    I cannot follow


    But I’ll wait for you right here


    For the journey


    For the way


    For the day you reappear


    You’re in a dream


    Finding all the ways you are


    You’re on a journey


    Near and far


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    Why don’t you wake up and reappear?


    And the dead rose still has its thorns


    I move on


    Following the circle after all


    Always, forever, coming back to you


    I still wait to shed my tears


    Reappear


    Reappear…


    “Well, that was a nice, uneventful evening, wasn’t it?” I said, placing Em’s glass down on the table in front of her and taking the chair on her right. “A wedding, and two archmages in custody…”


    “The two Dastardly D’s,” Bor said in a musing tone, wiping beer-foam from his lips.


    “Duskdown, and Direcrown, am I getting this right?” Ibbalat asked loudly.


    He winced as we all simultaneously shushed him, then continued in a quieter voice, “Were they brothers, or something?”


    “Not so far as we are aware,” Irimar answered. He’d arrived at the Mare unmasked and in ordinary clothes just like the rest of us, seemingly unfazed at revealing his identity to the adventurers now we had taken the step of trusting them. “Any similarity in chosen name is purely coincidental.”


    “I don’t believe in coincidence,” Kani said. “There’s a reason behind it, there has to be.”


    “There’s only a finite amount of names,” Tanra said. “When we were preparing ourselves to confront Tyr Kayn, we arrested a number of her lackeys, coming across no fewer than three minor darkmages whose chosen names started with Black-something… Not to mention the somehow-completely-unrelated Terroreyes and Tranquileyes, a sorcerer from Hilltown and an enchanter from North Lowtown, respectively…”


    “Come on,” Ana said with a snort, “two people can’t come up with such similar, terrible names without it being a conspiracy.”


    “Definitely no relation,” Tanra insisted.


    “Mundertaker!” I coughed.


    “Deadgate,” Ana said, looking pointedly at Kani.


    I glanced at the smiling bride, her hands around her glass of lemon-water.


    “You called him Deadgate?” Em asked.


    “Just before she –” Ibbalat mimed Kani smashing her mace into the ground.


    We’d all heard the story – the ‘greater dispel’ Wythyldwyn let the cleric channel, momentarily stripping a whole horde of eldritches from the Materium and bringing about Redgate’s downfall.


    I wondered if she could do it again – a trick like that would’ve been invaluable in an Incursion…


    “Sounds pretty badass to me,” Em said.


    “And this Direcrown,” Phanar murmured, “you say that he was Redgate’s closest confidante?”


    Irimar and Bor both nodded.


    “Then good riddance,” the warrior went on, and raised his small cup of wine in tribute.


    His eyes remained troubled, but no one else seemed to notice.


    “Hear, hear!”


    We each raised our own glasses and tankards, joining the toast, though my heart wasn’t quite in it. Direcrown was in Magisterium custody, but so what? He’d still sacrificed over a thousand people to his dark goddess in the name of his dead master…


    “So,” Em said, leaning forwards and placing her hand on Kani’s across the table, “what are you doing for ze honeymoon?”


    “Well, we were thinking of visiting Habburat in the new year – you’ve got that Spring Door here, and we’ve never been that far to the east…”


    I looked at Em, enjoying this new distraction. “We totally need to go too, some time.”


    “You’ve never been?” Ibb asked me.


    I shook my head.


    “Wow – but you’ve lived here your whole life, haven’t you?”


    I looked at Bor. “You ever been? To Habburat, I mean.”


    He gave me the exact look I expected, the raised eyebrow and smirk of incredulity.


    “So, that’s not really the kind of thing you do here, then?” Ibb pressed. “You don’t often get chance to travel?”


    “There’s neighbourhoods in Sticktown I’ve never even heard the names of, never mind visiting them…” I swigged my beer. “The Doors? Until I became an archmage, I’d only seen the Autumn Door up close, and that was by queueing up with the tourists. And the Giltergrove, where it stands, is a stone’s throw from where I live!”


    “Reckon it’s mostly merchants goin’ back and forth,” Bor said. “You gotta have a license, even if it’s just for, like, a day-trip, way I understand it.”


    “Things are strange here,” Ibbalat said.


    “Tell me about it,” Em said, rather darkly.


    What’s going on with her tonight? I wondered, staring into her face as if I could scry out my answers so simply.


    “Why don’t we show them what Yearseve’s like in Mund for a champion?” Bor asked, a mischievous smile on his lips.


    “You want to come see some darkmages?” I asked, looking around. “We can do a quick patrol, see what we can see, but I promised the twins I’d be back early for Father Time tonight…”


    “No offence, but we might not,” Kani said. She looked at her husband. “Shall we grab a room, if they’ve got one? Or would you rather we go home?”


    Phanar stared at her, suddenly looking rather timid.


    “We can afford it, husband,” she said, smiling sweetly.


    As though reacting to his own hesitancy more than to her prompting, the warrior spun on his heel and approached the bar-staff to discuss their vacancies.


    It was Yearsend – I was certain every room would be booked up – but everyone had their price, and Phanar had access to a ridiculous amount of money from what I could tell.


    “Ibb?” Em asked, getting to her feet with a bit of a wobble. “Ana?”


    The rogue answered for the pair of them, grinning and pulling two daggers out of nowhere – if I didn’t know better, I’d have said she had portals to another plane hanging off her wrists, the ease and speed with which she produced them.


    “Let’s give it a go,” Ibb said. “I’ve got another couple of flying-spells prep-“


    Em put out her hand to cut him off, grinning defiantly and wobbling some more. She raised her cup and made him wait for her to finish her drink before saying:


    “Leave ze vizard-shpells to me.”


    * * *