ã€ŠDisarmedã€‹


 Chapter 1: Checking In

    A fire crackled, and red-hot embers glimmered as Sheeva poked at the tiny mountain of slanted logs with a stick. The low flame rose with the added air when she turned one over, and as she stared into the orange coals, she took a deep breath and sighed, dropping her gaze to the circle of rocks she¡¯d placed to create the makeshift firepit. Tiny, slender hands clutched at a tattered black cloak held together with an iron clasp. When a gust of wind pierced the weathered fabric, Sheeva threw the hood over her head and shivered, inching closer to the meager fire. Her unevenly black hair draped over her shoulder from beneath the hood, the frayed ends of a red ribbon peeking out amid thin strands.

    Hopeful, she grabbed a log she¡¯d set nearby to dry out before adding it to the fire and carefully stacked it on the dwindling flames. It took, and as the flames grew, so did the heat. Satisfied with the warmth, Sheeva shuffled back to lean against the trunk of a tree. Apologetic for the three gashes she had made in it as trail markers, once for the first time and the other two for the second and third loop around, she decided it would be better to rest than to keep aimlessly wandering.

    Curious to know how long she had been wandering aimlessly for, she pulled an equally tattered notebook from her bag and thumbed through it, pausing on a hand-made calendar. The light from the two moons, Celeste and Kursu, was not enough to pierce the canopy, and she squinted at the pages in the dimness, trying to angle the book towards the firelight. The dim, orange glow still wasn¡¯t enough.

    With an effortless wave of her hand, a twinkling white ball of light rose from her palm. It hovered behind to illuminate the pages, flickering like a candle-lit lantern hung from the lowest branch of the tree she hunkered beneath. She flipped through the first couple of pages until she found the current date, then hastily crossed it off with an x.

    Apparently, she had been lost for nearly two weeks, forced off-trail by a black bearog¨Ca fuzzy, three-headed creature that had a slew of tricks up its sleeve. Not only could they rip her to shreds with their claws, but their festering bites were equally as nasty, and, to top that, some could do magic, including heal themselves. It was a foe meant for a team to take down, and considering she was only one person, she immediately backed down and fled.

    Back to the calendar, she checked off the days that had passed in the nine-day week, wondering if there were any significant events she had made note of and might be missing. The rumoured ¡°northern lights¡± would be taking place on a neighboring island, and she wished she was attending the festival associated with the phenomenon rather than being lost in a vast forest.

    Had she succeeded in slaying the man she¡¯d been chasing after for years when last they¡¯d met, she would have been.

    She snapped the book shut with a disappointed sigh, but not before a page slipped out, waving at her between the pages. Pages threatening to fall was nothing new; the red, leather book had gotten so much use, she was surprised it lasted this long. Retrieving the waving page and opening it to view, she scratched off the name of a town from a list scribbled in the margin and scowled at the man¡¯s face, his yellow eyes cold and calculating, only lit with passion when murdering someone for the hell of it.

    Llyud Halma, much as she disliked to admit it, had gotten the better of her, again, this time employing the help of some bandits and ambushing her inside a cave. She¡¯d barely gotten away with her life, forced to slaughter the lot after baring her wings to save herself from a fall into the pit. While she might have been able to convince others that the news of a ¡°winged Sferran¡± was pure conjecture, the lot of bandits had tried to grapple her into a cage, and she had no choice but to fight her way free, not keen on being the subject of cruel experimentation, again.

    She supposed the ambush was retribution for her slander against him in a town farther north, where she¡¯d tried to sway the help of guards by telling them he was after a noble¡¯s gold¨Cbecause saying: ¡°I¡¯m searching for, and want to kill, the man that killed my mother,¡± seemed a surefire way to spend time in irons. Sheeva scoffed; if anyone had taken the time to know her, they would know that killing people for shits and giggles was not something she cared to do, limiting herself to only do what was necessary.

    Unfortunately, her infamous heritage as a Cruinian coupled with the fact that ¡°no one can tell tales if no one¡¯s left to tell tales¡± had become something she had to employ more than she cared to.

    She directed her thoughts back to the sketch. Aside from being one of the few to do magic like she could, his bright, piercing, yellow eyes were unique to him, considering the five main eye colors found among the planet¡¯s denizens, each indicating what island they or their ancestors hailed from.

    Having committed them to memory, she didn''t need to view the notes she''d jotted down from the massive library in Vivroa''s capital city, Raynak, but glanced at them anyway. Perhaps, in her exhausted delirium, the hand-smudged cursive might reveal something new.

    On Vivroa, the vast central island, the native¡¯s eyes were some form of orange. Some people¡¯s eyes were light enough to make her double-take and reach for her weapon in alarm when she''d first started her extensive search. Eventually, she learned to dismiss her needless worry since not only were their eyes rich, deep citrines or golden-yellow topaz, most Vivroans were naturally fair-haired or had some shade of brown in their typically wavy locks. Vivroa acted as a hub between the four surrounding islands, and the capital, Raynak, rested smack-dab in the middle of the land. She considered it more of a stand-alone continent than an island and sometimes wondered if the surrounding islands had been a part of the landmass at some point in time.

    There had not been many from the farm-loving countryside folks of Pyurita, an island a couple of weeks sail from the northwestern region of Vivroa. It did not surprise her. They preferred sticking to their many feasts, most held in the capital city, Virn¡¯nost. Pyuritans had green eyes of some shade, varying from grass-green to the shade of valuable emeralds that Vivroa mined for and exported. Produce and spirits were the farmers¡¯ main exports, and the latter could be some of the most expensive items on the market. Some of the more dangerous things dwelled in the underground markets where stolen items, mind-altering drugs, or other forbidden contraband could be found.

    Pacem¡¯s steep, towering, mountain-of-an-island pierced the sky off the southwestern coast, and their folks had variants of amethyst in their irises. Traveling in bands, they were more commonly found in larger cities on the other islands if they left their capital, Shizu-Konnyye. There was no surprise there; most of them held an uncanny ability to read minds or predict outcomes and would often set up gypsy camps in various places to peddle tricks for cash, food, or shelter. Sheeva tended to avoid these groups, worried they would see she was not entirely Sferran.

    Tarrakk¡¯s residents, generally with azure eye color, preferred to stick to their northeastern island, spending their days tinkering with inventions or researching the various habitats amid the floating masses of land, their nature disturbed by the previous massive wars between Cruinia and Tarrakk. Cruinia¡¯s people, in a moment of desperation and revolution, had tried to free themselves of oppression and take the land by force, but Tarrakk¡¯s residents had technology on their side that none others could imagine, and after a show of their prowess, Cruinia retreated to the southeast in defeat. Now, only the capital, Polvolet remained.

    Not surprisingly, there were incredibly few ruby ones from Cruinia. The island¡¯s tyrannous state left most of the residents dead or jailed in the penitentiary in Torde, stricken with cotton mouth thanks to the harsh desert heat. If Cruinians did manage to escape or scrounge for cash to make the journey to abandon their roots and seek better lives on the neighboring islands, they were often turned away to rot in the wilderness or, in larger cities, enslaved and sold like cattle in the underground markets.

    For this reason, Sheeva altered her eye color to mimic a deep shade of mauve, hoping it would pass for enough purple to mimic Pacem¡¯s typical trait. She had been working on it for only a few months after being turned away from a food bank in Anidelle strictly because of her eye color. While the spell did not last long, it lasted long enough to get whatever she happened to need to buy or barter for.

    As she mused on her target''s heritage, Sheeva wondered if maybe the man she pursued was a Sferran-Ta¡¯hal like her, and to her knowledge, this made them the only ones of their kind. When she had pressed for information on the beasts of legend to the librarian, the woman only raised her eyebrows in question and directed her to the slim pickings of disappointing books.

    Llyud also being super-Sferran was a frightening thought, and she wondered what other nasty tricks the man had up his sleeve.

    Perhaps he could take flight, like her, and disable her wings to plummet her towards the ground to her death if their fight soared into the skies. Maybe, he could use the earth to heed his call and bury her in rich, moist soil that would strangle and suffocate her in her final moments. He already enjoyed shocking her into stupidity and breathlessness, and she was sure that she would have suffocated if he hadn¡¯t been interrupted by the Snow Sahagin that spit hallucinogenic slobber in his face. While he dissociated, she had been forced to flee as well as she could while partially paralyzed as the slimy, poisonous lizard turned on her, taking her for the easier meal. The tumble down the mountainside had been her only saving throw.

    She sucked in a sudden breath and shivered, the phantom grains of snow, dirt, and tingles of fading shock shuffling down the back of her neck and up her arms an unwelcome feeling. The blanket pooled around her sides, discarded for the brief moment of recollection.

    She was grateful she hadn¡¯t been spat on by the Sahagin but figured the bash of a horned rabbit¡¯s poison into her palm was instant karma.

    While Llyud would likely bury her entire body¨Cnot just to her head as the master of Malfa Temple had¨Cshe wouldn''t be surprised if Llyud might also try to use Rose''s root-binding spell on her to terrify and break her of her will. She spat in distaste as the sweetness of roots tingled her memory, then frowned as her stomach growled at her.

    With the seeming game of cat-and-mouse, the frustration of near-misses and near-successes, and the illusion that Llyud was uncatchable, Sheeva found herself discouraged.

    ¡°Is it even worth it anymore?¡± She wondered aloud. The shadow of thought that Rose wouldn¡¯t want her to be running her life this way was fleeting, and Sheeva shook her head to clear it away, aware that she was being selfish.

    She reminded herself that Rose¡¯s sacrifice and untimely death, coupled with countless others Llyud manipulated, riled up against her for the upper hand, or flat-out killed, justified her revenge, and rather than acknowledge the creeping heartache, she scowled at the man''s crooked nose. Recalling how it had gotten that way brought a smile to her face.

    Aim always impeccable from practice throwing her wallet, writing pen, or even her shoe when irritated enough, Rose had gotten in a good nose-shattering punch before she fell, dying unfairly at Sheeva''s bound hands and feet.

    Flinching as the scream of an animal in the distance pierced the air and tore her from morose thought, Sheeva''s hand flew to the handle of her sword as adrenaline stabbed its way up her tense spine. Listening hard beyond the heartbeat pounding in her head, the returning calls of elk made her huff in relief, and she settled back against the tree with an exhausted sigh. Willing away the need to walk out her false alarm, she further fought to displace herself as she thumbed the hilt of her weapon, Abraxas.

    The lupine teeth, once sharp and pristine, were now dull and stained with dirt and blood, and the wrappings around the handle were frayed and beginning to unravel from their tight bound¨Csomething she had a mind to fix if she returned to the temple walls before setting off to another island, should her journey take her that far. Abraxas had been a gift for Sheeva¡¯s thirteenth birthday, something that Rose had wanted to mark as unique...as though baring her wings for the first time wasn¡¯t enough. Aside from clashes with Llyud, beasts, and bandits, they¡¯d been through much in the last ten years: narrow escapes from packs of dire wolves, beating criminals into submission for their bounties and even helping her survive a rough battle with a behemoth. Her mouth watered as it remembered the velvety, flavorful steaks the meat provided. The tail-whip scars had been worth the struggle.

    As it sang with a metallic hum when she unsheathed it from its sturdy leather case, Sheeva examined the straight, single-edge blade. Abraxas was steadfast and reliable, the center-set, thorned vine design still etched along the fuller part of the blade, though not as lustrous as it had been on day one. The steel of the pommel stone was tarnished, more likely from nervous fidgeting than exposure to weather or blood.

    Abraxas, it is a great shame that the first blood you tasted was Rose¡¯s.

    She returned Abraxas to its scabbard and nestled him within reach in a cradle of the tree''s roots. Sheeva took a deep breath and sighed in misery, leaning her head back against the bark of the tree she craned under and slid back to curl closer against another chilly breeze that rustled the long pine needles.

    Perhaps when you¡¯ve been sated with Llyud¡¯s, we can give you rest.

    Would the man¡¯s death come from the heat of battle, and would the up-close-and-personal kill satisfy her need for vengeance as she¡¯d run him through? Would she drive the man to his knees and stare him in the face as she beheaded him? Or...would she force Abraxas through his chest, as he had done to Rose, and watch the light fade from his deranged yellow eyes, as she had done for the woman she considered ¡°mother¡±?

    She scoffed, then promised herself she''d at least follow Rose''s steps and shatter his goblin nose. Her lips curled at the thought, and it ignited a sense of superiority and sedition within, but as she began to entertain darker, more sadistic thoughts, Sheeva uttered an "ugh" of self-disgust.

    As often as she¡¯d thought about it, she couldn¡¯t bring herself to imagine torturing the man. It was unbecoming and unlike her, and certainly not who she wanted to be, nor how she''d been raised. She owed the master of Malfa Temple and Rose that much.

    No. A quick death is in order. Sheeva reminded herself. She was determined to not be a sadist like he was, though if she were honest, Sheeva couldn¡¯t know what she¡¯d be inclined to do upon their final meeting. She had a funny feeling that the wise, aged leader of the temple would offer her a similar personal thought.

    Uncomfortable with her current string of ideas, Sheeva sat up and prodded at the fire again in need of purifying her horrid mindset. His cackle sounded in her ears as though ringing out in reality, and she stilled and drew in a sharp breath as it shot terror down her spine. She snatched the handle of her blade and whipped it into her hands, wide, angry eyes piercing the dark forest around her.

    Nothing sounded but the pops of sap pockets in the wood and the curious hoots of owls.

    Irritated, Sheeva settled, and returned Abraxas to his resting spot in the cradle of the tree, then tightened her cloak back around herself as she scooted closer to the warm fire.

    I¡¯m running out of places to search for you, bastard! Surely, you must know I¡¯ve been searching for you by now. Where the hell are you? She mused to herself, looking at the uncrossed names of towns in Vivroa on her list: Roussell, Urul, Maizen. Finally, she would travel to Ostansya, a port city where she would be forced to take a boat to Pacem to search there. She did not want to but would become a stowaway if she needed to.

    She winced as her stomach growled and took a deep breath to help ignore it, swallowing the sour spit that rose in the back of her throat as her guts threatened to regurgitate lime-green bile. Since she started to run low on her rations, she tried not to get worked up unless she needed to, but worrying about Llyud or the future often left her panicked and on-edge. She searched her bag for the satchel that held them and peered into it. Nothing left but shreds of jerky, energy cubes, and pain pills.

    As her stomach grumbled again, she relented, scraping for the bits of jerky and a cube and popping the savory trifles into her mouth. Hopefully, it would shut her grumbling stomach up and not be a total waste.

    She stood, stretched, grabbed her water pouch, and drank deeply, hoping to further subdue her hunger. Feeling another chill of the night¡¯s air across her skin, she sunk back to the ground and stirred the fire again. The flames rose a few inches with the addition of air, covering her with its warmth.

    Her stomach growled again, and she sneered in distaste at the thought of how eager she was to eat anything...even a scavenging forest rat, bland and gamey as they were. Perhaps, she¡¯d been scaring away all the animals, or maybe the town nearby had overhunted the area. She shook her head at herself. Overhunting had to be the problem; she felt she had been too quiet to scare away anything. Bucks seemed scarce, and any females she had come across she¡¯d let live to care for their offspring.

    They may have been easy pickings, but she refused to hunt Tinker Owls. She had a soft spot for the cute and fluffy creatures, worried they might be on the brink of extinction because she had not seen many in this forest. She yawned again and slumped down onto the ground. Scowling at her hunger, she crawled into her sleeping bag and forced herself to sleep.

    ***

    Several hours after struggling through broken sleep, Sheeva rolled over, rubbed her eyes, and groaned as she sat up. A knot from the tree had gifted her with a stiff knot in her back, and after willing herself to move and work it out, blinked tiredly at the canopy of the trees. Beneath the old, lumpy sleeping bag she''d crawled into in the middle of the night, she dug around in her pocket for the pocket watch Rose had purchased for her upon their first outing to one of the neighboring towns. Blinking at it in confusion, she tutted, rolled her eyes, and shook her head as she remembered it did not tick ever since it had broken a few years ago and placed it back in her pocket. The next time she was in a larger city, she would ask a clock¡¯s smith to look at it...so she continued to tell herself. She found she couldn''t trust anyone, fearing it would end in someone else''s pocket or, worse, in the underground market.

    Sheeva crawled out of her sleeping bag and looked up at the sky, her view veiled by the thick canopy of tree branches. Needing a better view, she climbed a tree, balanced on one of the small branches at its apex, and looked around. Celeste, the blue-tinted moon, was still visible on the eastern horizon, but Kursu, the smaller and cuter teal moon, was already hidden below the mountain¡¯s edge. The gleaming, orange morning sun wasn¡¯t far above the western horizon.

    Surveying the forest that spanned down the steep mountainside and tapered off into hilly plains, Sheeva was not sure where she might be. Even after squinting, she couldn''t even see the bend in the mountain pass that helped to further obscure the temple from prying eyes. Shielding her eyes with a hand from the gleaming sun, Sheeva thought she saw a town in the distance, but with temporary blindness, her search was futile.

    I must be imagining things now. Sheeva told herself and continued to span the view.

    ¡°Damn, I really need a better map.¡± She muttered, chiding herself for her foolishness. A map of the Urul-Maizen pass, the ¡°bowl¡± of Vivroa, and the plains inside would have been a wise purchase, but, thinking she could wait until she reached Roussell, she passed up the opportunity. Unaware of how dry her throat was, she croaked and coughed, finding it raspy and a little sore.

    It must have been colder overnight than she had expected, spring still struggling to break free of winter¡¯s hold. While the last week had been pleasantly warm, perhaps they had been foolishly hopeful, and Vivroa would be blanketed with a fresh, unwanted sheen of snow¡­despite the many feet of snow they''d been graced with over the winter. Nothing could be done about the mass amounts of snow blocking the roads, and while she supposed it was for the better of all the plants and the current year¡¯s harvest, it still hindered her search more than she¡¯d have liked. Sheeva had had little choice but to hole up and wait out the long winter storm in the attic of a pub in a backwater town in northern Vivroa, doing odd jobs and babysitting to pay for her stay.

    Secretly, she did not mind too much, happy to occupy the innocent children¡¯s attention by casting magic tricks that blew their little minds. A smile crept to her face in fondness, pleased that she could assist in giving them joyful moments. With a silent blessing, she wished them well and hoped she¡¯d be seen as a supportive, positive impact in their early lives.

    A frown formed on her face as she realized that, maybe, caring for them so had been her way of trying to make up for the lost opportunity she had missed as a child when she was their age. Sheeva huffed the epiphany away, knowing it would only come back to haunt her in the wee hours of the morning.

    As she turned to climb down, a glint of gold caught Sheeva''s eye from far away, and she jerked her head to the sky first in alarm. Finding nothing but pale blue sky and fluffy, sorbet-medley-colored clouds, Sheeva looked to the horizon for the source. It came from where she had been looking before, and she realized she had not imagined things as a city slowly came into better view. She crawled down, snuffed the coals of her fire with loose dirt, packed up the rest of her supplies, and began to walk towards the city in the distance.

    A few hours travel placed her at the edge of the forest, the still-growing sea of wheatgrass calmed her as she stared out at it, and the glint of gold caught her attention again. She searched her brain for the city¡¯s name, then checked her notebook when she couldn¡¯t recall it. In delicate, curly cursive and a slight shade of graphite dust from the smudge her hand made while writing across the pages, she stopped at the quickly scrawled note she''d left herself.

    Roussel, the city ¡°made of gold.¡± Though, in her further questioning, she learned that the only thing made of gold was the clocktower and found the nickname silly. Apparently, their king¡¯s and queen¡¯s reputations as generous people made the city one of the most sought-out places to live, aiding in the city''s ridiculous misnomer.

    Nicknames aside, Roussel was the second-largest city in Vivroa, dwarfed massively by Raynak, and she hoped her search would bear even a tiny morsel of fruit.

    Her stomach burbled at the thought of morsels, and as though to agree with it, a relieved smile crept to her face as she thought of all the food she could eat. She looked forward to making a meal of cluckatrice meat, rogue tomato juice, and roasted parsnips and potatoes with a fluffy, buttery sweetroll to finish it off.

    Excited, she stepped onto the dirt road that cut across the vast plains to the large, metal gates. The growing wheat reached for her arms as she ran through them, tips tickling her palms as she held them out. Perhaps, if she were still around in the months of harvest later in the year, she could assist the farmers in their chores in exchange for a small satchel of flour.

    As she neared the town, she slowed, gazing in confusion at the gates. They were rusted over, and she frowned again and shook her head in disapproval. Despite the city¡¯s reputation, there seemed to be no effort of upkeep. Sheeva found herself upset as she thought that maybe the town had fallen to one of the neighboring islands. She hadn¡¯t kept herself up to date on current events, only paying attention to news related to Llyud. With a scoff, she dismissed the idea that the city had somehow fallen; ignorant as she could be, news of war would have dictated how she had behaved.

    Her stomach growled at her, and she winced at the thing. Despite the nervous brick, it was less upset about potential capture and enslavement and more upset that it had not been filled.

    She closed her eyes to focus her altering spell and felt her eyes burn a little as the irises changed their color. Grabbing the small mirror she kept tucked away, she checked her reflection. It would hopefully do, though they were a little redder than she would like. She dismissed her inability to cast the spell properly due to hunger and exhaustion.

    Nervous, she approached the closed gate that towered over her. There was a defensive line of spikes on the ground and a sloped canopy along the top, as well as roofed ramparts with patrolling guards. She pursed her lips in annoyance at the roadblock¨Cthere went the idea of waiting at a possible blind spot until nightfall, baring her wings, and flying over the thing.

    Maybe, there would be a sewer grate that she could blast open with a fireball and crawl through. but scrunched her nose in distaste at the idea. Not only did she not want to deal with the stench of waste, she didn¡¯t want to accidentally ruin the foundation of the wall and send it crumbling into a useless heap.

    She crossed her arms, reasoning that, while she had been holed up over the harsh winter, so too had Llyud, and she was only psyching herself out. She owed it to herself to at least see if they¡¯d heard any nefarious rumors or had let him through the gates.

    ¡°Mornin, traveler. What can I do fer yeh?¡± A guard asked, taller than her by at least a foot and with a much broader build. Beneath the bill of the slate-grey cap that matched his uniform, his eyes were amber and his eyebrows held grey hairs. Sheeva cleared her throat, trying to keep herself calm, and fished around in her bag for her notebook. She pulled the sketch of Llyud, unfolded it, and handed it to him.

    ¡°I¡¯m searching for this man; name¡¯s Llyud Halma. Tall¨Cabout as tall as yourself. Yellow eyes. Raspy voice. Have you seen or heard of him?¡± She asked, beginning the start of what would be an extensive, exhaustive search. First, from the point of entry, she¡¯d scour every bar, inn, and shop, then work her way clockwise around the town as she closed in toward the center. Perhaps, she would even brave the red-light district if none of the other locations proved useful.

    ¡°Yellow eyes? That¡¯s¡­new.¡± The guard grabbed the sketch, wiped at his eyes, then squinted at the page. Retrieving a pair of glasses, he donned them and raised his eyebrows as he focused on the previously blurry details.

    ¡°No. Never heard of him. Never seen him, either¨Cdon¡¯t recognize the yellow eyes. That-that¡¯s not normal, is it? Yer sure he¡¯s not from Cruinia?¡± He said, glancing back at Sheeva, unnerved. She¡¯d wondered if maybe Llyud was from Cruinia since she often tried to remember if they''d crossed paths before that fateful day, but considering his eyes were so yellow, he was more likely from Vivroa than anywhere else. Perhaps it was a bizarrely light shade of citrine.

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    ¡°Ah, well¡­I am not sure,¡± Sheeva admitted. ¡°But, I have been chasing him for a while. Bastard always seems to slip from my grasp.¡±

    And I, from his, Sheeva added silently. She wiped at her tired face, feeling the phantom, burning sting of Sahagin spit as her eyes became blurry by tears.

    ¡°What¨Cis he some sort of criminal?¡± The guard asked, handing the sketch back to Sheeva.

    That¡¯s putting it lightly. Sheeva huffed through her nose at the fitting comment and pocketed the sketch, somewhat hopeful for the circumstance. Llyud hadn¡¯t passed through yet.

    Or, if he has, the guards posted have not seen him, her cynical brain reminded her.

    ¡°Yes. He is responsible for several people¡¯s deaths, as well as manipulating people to stall, imprison, or harm me or innocent people. I¡¯m hoping to finally put a stop to that here.¡± Sheeva admitted carefully, not about to clue in the guard on what she intended to do once she caught the man. Ambiguity was the better part of caution.

    ¡°Hm,¡± The guard scratched at his chin, then held out his hand. ¡°Can I take another look at that?¡± He asked. Sheeva pursed her lips to hold back her annoyed scoff, retrieved the page from her pocket, and handed it back to him.

    He glanced over it again, longer this time, then looked up from the page.

    ¡°Mind if I show this to the others?¡± He asked. Sheeva nodded, grateful for his willingness to aid in her thorough search. She followed it with her eyes as the sketch was passed between the three other guards standing watch, further relieved when each of them said they hadn¡¯t seen the man.

    It seemed she had arrived first, and would have time to build a positive reputation before he came along and crushed it.

    ¡°Just because he didn¡¯t pass through this gate doesn¡¯t mean he hasn¡¯t passed through the other three, though. Yeh should check there, as well.¡± He offered, stepping aside to let her through.

    ¡°Oh. There are other gates?¡± She asked, feeling mildly discouraged.

    ¡°Yeh. Roussell¡¯s divided up into quarters. This gate¡¯s the Southgate entrance, facing south. Yeh have the east gate at the entrance to the Eastern Quarters, the west gate at Westside, then the northern gate at Northside.¡± The guard explained, pointing them out in an obscure direction. She couldn¡¯t see the tops of the gates beyond the peaks of the two-and-three-story houses, but trusted his directions. Hastily, she scrawled the note down on a new page in her tattered notebook, not caring that her hand smudged the charcoal across the page.

    She sighed, thanked the guard, and stepped into the town beyond, mildly relieved that the interaction had gone so well after being so indiscriminately run out of the last town.

    The capital city had been built on a grid system, and the streets of Roussell seemed no different as she followed the main street, Southgate, further inward. She wondered whether the four main roads converged twice, like Raynak, or only once. Curious, Sheeva searched for the giant clocktower she¡¯d spotted from a distance in the forest. Unoriginally, or maybe conveniently placed, stood the towering construct, regal and shimmering in the distance as it pierced the sky, though not as central as she had thought. An old castle peaked just beyond, and Sheeva felt dwarfed in comparison as she realized just how big the city really was. It might take her half a year to search as thoroughly as she did.

    She paused as she came across a small statue just inside the gates, and upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a shrine, recognizing the fish sigils, swimming ad infinitum, on the obelisk as one similar to a sigil on one of the twelve churches she had passed by in Raynak. Figuring Llyud to not be a religious man considering all the damages he had done, she had never entered one of the twelve churches, each with its own specific symbol. Deciding she should look into the twelve gods and goddesses at whatever library Roussell might have, Sheeva jotted down a reminder to do so at a later time.

    She, herself, was not religious, though the temple she had grown up in held its own beliefs and garnered its own creation stories¨Csomething that she enjoyed learning of the ¡°outside¡± cultures of Sferra.

    Curious as she was, it would need to wait. The first thing on her tried-and-true checklist was to find an inn, and she didn¡¯t much care where it was, so long as she could afford it with the small amount of Inue she had jingling in her coin purse. Generally, inns were closest to the entrances of any town and, after passing by a few clothing and specialty shops, she spotted a large sign for an inn.

    An eyesore compared to the large-windowed displays of the fancy clothing shops Sheeva hurried by in impatience, The Cozy Cat stuck out in its disrepair of missing shingles, chipped-paint, and window shutters that were missing slats. She briefly wondered if it had been shut-down, but as a group of people shuffled inside of it, Sheeva decided it hadn¡¯t. Stepping through the door, the musty smell of wood, stale air, and potent tobacco wafted through her nostrils and stung into her eyes. It was almost enough to knock her back, but, pressing on, she stepped further inside and shut the door behind her.

    To the left, a dining room could be seen, filled with chattering people busy slurping on soup, and as the diminished smell of cluckatrice broth permeated the stench of the unkept building, Sheeva¡¯s stomach gurgled at her in need.

    Waiting in line behind a couple, Sheeva stepped toward the counter as they left, hustling upstairs. She eyed them briefly, confused about their excitement considering the drab state of the place, then directed her attention to the nameplate on the desk. Tom, it read, though considering he hadn¡¯t even greeted her, she decided not to use it.

    ¡°Do you have a room available?¡± She asked. ¡°If so, how much?¡±

    The innkeeper merely glanced up from the book he was reading, green eyes looking at her disinterestedly for a brief second before flitting back to his book.

    ¡°Room 2B, twenty Inue, per night.¡± He grunted shortly.

    Her lips pursed in displeasure; the price far outweighed the state of the place since the much fancier inn she had stayed at in the capital was roughly the same price. She contemplated her options for a moment, scanning the entrance room again. It didn¡¯t need to be fancy, she decided, but the steep price had her considering turning heel and searching for a better price elsewhere.

    Still, she found herself somehow persuaded to stay by the man¡¯s poor customer service; lacks of fucks given meant less chance she would be remembered if something went wrong and she had to flee the town.

    She fished in the coinpurse, finding it more wanting than she had anticipated, then handed him the four lackluster silver coins denoting five Inue, each coin worn by heavy exchange of hands since their minting. Curious to know how much she had left, she peeked in between the fading leather folds, where several copper one-piece Inue and a few two-piece Inue clinked back at her. One precious silver twenty-piece fell out from a hiding spot as she went to close it.

    It wasn¡¯t much, altogether just enough to pay for one more night and maybe a full meal.

    ¡°How much for a meal?¡± She questioned, hoping he would say something more reasonable than the price for the room.

    ¡°Ten Inue.¡±

    ¡°Hm,¡± She hummed through pursed lips that stretched to form a line of disappointment. There went the idea for another night and a meal.

    ¡°How much for soup?¡± She asked instead.

    The man gave her an irritated look and pointed a long, bony finger at a sign next to the entrance of the dining area. Beneath the ¡°meal of the day¡± rested Cluckatrice stew, five Inue written in cursive.

    Sheeva peeked at a customer¡¯s bowl as a waitress walked by with a tray; it didn¡¯t seem there was much to be found for meat or potatoes, and she frowned, feeling a bit ripped off on their behalf. She might be better off buying a peck of apples and feeding on those for a few days, despite possibly making herself sick of apples.

    ¡°Is there a mercenary guild nearby?¡± She asked, dismissing his annoyed sigh.

    ¡°What, you didn¡¯t see the barracks when you came in?¡± He grunted, pointing in the assumed direction with his thumb. ¡°Big construct, northeast of here¨CEven you can¡¯t possibly miss it.¡±

    Sheeva felt the frustration in her brow, but caught the haughty scoff in her throat and masked it with a strained ¡°Heard.¡± While it wouldn¡¯t do to spit words with this man in case it escalated to a physical fight, the challenging tension in the air reminded her of her childhood rival. Familiarity calmed her somewhat, and she took a clearing breath in through her nose.

    Perhaps the man was intentionally trying to piss her off as Hasch often did.

    Feeling reluctant to ask if they had any postings on hand lest he give her another sardonic answer, Sheeva looked around once more for a bulletin board. As the door opened and closed, the gust of fresh air it brought fluttered a heap of pages tacked to a board. Grateful that she didn¡¯t have to ask the man what might seem like another dumb question, she strode to the corkboard nailed to the wall.

    Amid posters for lost pets, many flyers were ¡°lost and found¡± items, if not listed as ¡°stolen,¡± some items listing a hefty reward, and others, what she would consider trinkets, were not worth her time or efforts. A few that she had to dig through listed disappearances of people, and as Sheeva recalled the faces of the unfortunate few Llyud had killed and pinned on her to run her out of town, she felt sorrow that their faces didn¡¯t match, meaning more wasted deaths.

    Plucking a ¡°help wanted¡± request for assisting a family with moving boxes for some quick, easy cash, she folded and pocketed it. Scouring the board, she tore down a couple of other odd ¡°information on disappearance¡± requests in addition to a bounty on a thief¡¯s head, pocketed them as well, then retrieved Llyud¡¯s sketch from the depths of her pocket.

    Bothering the disinterested man once more, Sheeva set the sketch on the countertop, cleared her throat, and asked her question. He looked at it, barely, before returning to his book.

    ¡°Nope. ¡®Aven¡¯t seen him,¡± He dismissed.

    ¡°But, you didn¡¯t even look at it!¡± Sheeva argued.

    ¡°Sure I did. He¡¯s got greasy black hair, piss-yellow eyes and a nose that looks like a diving board for pixies.¡± He shrugged. ¡°And I¡¯m telling you: I haven¡¯t seen him.¡± He stated, fully breaking away from his book to look her in the face as he shoved the picture back toward her across the counter.

    She pouted, unappreciative of his mockery, snatched the picture up, and shoved it into her pocket, not caring how it crinkled in her grasp.

    ¡°Aw. Aren¡¯t you cute?¡± He sneered, equally pouting his lips as he talked down to her briefly before turning back to his book. Sheeva hardened her stare.

    ¡°Suppose¨Cif you¡¯re that serious¨Cyou could search for him in The Undergrove. Most folks that make their way here usually stop there,¡± He stated, with a wide, thin smirk that curled into his right cheekbone. ¡°Maybe, I¡¯ll even see you there.¡±

    Sheeva eyed him skeptically.

    ¡°What is The Undergrove?¡± She asked, not wanting to be duped into touring the underground markets packed with contraband and questionable ¡°medicine,¡± passing up a tincture obviously concocted of Sleipnir urine and Quadricorn blood. Con artists aside, she¡¯d had her fill of the corruption putrifying Raynak and had almost become one of the slaves trapped in a cage for it.

    ¡°You¡¯ll just have to find out,¡± He grinned, and Sheeva fought the curl of distaste as it triggered the flutter of warning in her stomach.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so,¡± Sheeva dismissed, highly disinterested until she gathered more information from other people in town. At the thought that she might ultimately have to, she kept back her weary sigh. It would be the last of places to search, she decided.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tour the sinner¡¯s corridor much, do you?¡± He cackled.

    Embarrassed at the understanding that The Undergrove was somehow linked to the similarly-named brothel district that Raynak had, Sheeva turned heel and began to walk off, already feeling her cheeks flush red. His laughter pierced her ears.

    ¡°Hey, tootsie!¡± He called after her, the delight evident in his voice.

    ¡°Don¡¯t ¡®tootsie¡¯ me!¡± She snapped, sending him a warning look over her shoulder as she fought to hide the embarrassed face that betrayed her normally stoic self.

    ¡°You forgot your key,¡± The man reminded her, swirling the key around on his finger. Sheeva hurried back, snatched the key from his outstretched hand, and wheeled back to hurry through the door and escape his snickers. She stormed down the main street for a while before she calmed down, stopping at a fountain of a farmer carrying a bushel of wheat upon his back. The water streamed from the bundle of wheat and splashed into the dark, jade-encrusted pool. Sheeva reached into it and slapped some water on her face to cool down.

    Even though she didn''t know what Llyud might be interested in when he wasn''t terrorizing her or other people, if he indeed took part in what Sheeva saw as ¡°carnal pleasures mimicking wildebeests,¡± scouring the Sinner¡¯s Corridor would still be the last thing she did.

    After taking a moment to collect herself, she pulled out the notebook and made another note of the locations, sketching out a rudimentary map.

    Down the way, a small plaza could be seen, and, eager to see what produce they had available, Sheeva headed for it. The first cart held meager offerings; a few fruits, some meats, and some vegetables that were far tinier than the ones she could find at the capital or even at Malfa Temple.

    Still, she dished out more than what she felt was necessary for an apple, a chunk of salted, cured beef, and a small red bell pepper, costing another silver five Inue coin and a copper ¡°one-peice.¡±

    Nibbling on the tasteless, dry apple, she turned to view the rest of the plaza.

    Towards the middle, hiding in the shade of a prominent, defaced statue, sat a man on a stool as he painted a majestic setting on a canvas. Hoping he might have a painted map of Roussell, she headed towards him.

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± She interrupted. He paused and looked at her expectantly.

    ¡°Do you happen to have a map of this city? I am new here and¡­find myself lost easily,¡± She stated, not about to let on that she might accidentally walk into The Undergrove unawares.

    His bushy eyebrows raised, then dropped and fused together as he shook his head.

    ¡°No, ma¡¯am, but it''s not hard to find your way. Roussell is set up with a grid¨C

    ¨Cgrid system. Yes, I know¡­much like the capital city."

    He fell silent, unappreciative of being interrupted.

    Sheeva sighed and took the tattered sketch out of her pocket.

    "I''m looking for this man, and I plan to leave no doormat unturned," She stated, reminding herself to be patient about beating the dead horse.

    "This painting''s in shreds," He commented, glancing back up at her.

    "I have a plan to replace it soon," She countered dismissively. Until the sketch was so torn that it turned to dust in her pockets, it would join her pocket watch in the realm of "things broken but couldn''t trust to have repaired."

    "In addition to a map, I wouldn¡¯t mind repaintin¡¯ that one for you, miss¨Cfor a price,¡± He bartered, pointing to another sign. It listed the different sizes of canvas, as well as the different styles of paintings he could do: landscapes, portraits, and caricatures, with a variety of prices to match. He didn¡¯t have anything smaller than an eight-by-thirteen-inch stretch of canvas which ran for eight Inue.

    Sheeva crossed her arms in thought. With just enough left for one night at the inn and a few pieces of produce, she initially told herself she didn¡¯t necessarily need something so big. But perhaps, bigger would be better, since she could mark it as she needed to.

    ¡°If it¡¯s just a map you need, I could cut a smaller stretch of fabric,¡± He offered.

    ¡°I think I¡¯ll just take the smallest canvas you have. Better to have room to mark it if I need to,¡± Sheeva refused, fishing around for the coins and plucking them from the pouch. A silver five, a copper two-piece, and a copper one-piece jingled as she set them in his outstretched hand.

    She stepped aside, nearly tripping over a pot that rattled with loose coins as he grabbed at a pair of crutches, leaned against a nearby podium, stood, and swung himself towards a stache of clear canvases pre-set onto wooden frames. He selected one, set it on the easel, and swung back to the stool.

    ¡°It¡¯ll take some time for this to get done. Feel free to come back later.¡±

    Sheeva looked down at the pot she had nearly knocked over, then bent down to set it straight. The coins jingled around inside.

    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to kick it,¡± She stated.

    ¡°Nah, don¡¯t even worry about it. It¡¯s a temporary thing, anyway. Once I get my prosthetic leg, I¡¯mma kick the sucker across the fields and back like a kickball!¡± He commented with a grin. Sheeva looked down at the pot, fighting a look of concern. The porcelain thing would break with the force of a solid kick, especially from something hard like wood or metal.

    ¡°I¡­see. How, uh, how much until you have enough?¡± She asked, watching him as he filled an inkpot with powdered charcoal, likely from charred animal bones. He dribbled some water into it to create a thin, sturdy paint, then dipped the straightened edge of a paintbrush into it. Likely, the bristles were made of the thick, coarse hairs of Sleipnir manes, a type of horse with eight legs and various elemental affinities depending on the regions they were found in; some could billow breaths of fire, while others would jolt foes with thunder. The ones that dwelled in the snowy banks of the northeastern tundra could summon hailstorms with a simple nicker.

    ¡°I¡¯m just getting started, sadly. Lost my leg this winter¨Ca bad case of frostbite. Figured I¡¯d try getting used to this new lifestyle, but I don¡¯t much care fer hopping everywhere.¡± He explained. He tsked at himself and waved at the tangent. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯ve a ways to go.¡±

    Sympathetic to his plight, Sheeva dropped a coin into the pot.

    ¡°I wish you good fortune, then. In the meantime, I¡¯m looking for work and picked up a quick chore. Can you point me to this address?¡± She asked, retrieving the ad she pulled from the board.

    Grateful for his directions, Sheeva tucked the paper in her pocket and began to walk towards the side street. The sound of a child crying about something caught her attention, and, distracted, she turned to look for it, then looked back as someone bumped into her on their way past. The flash of her red coin purse could be seen before it disappeared into the depth of the stranger¡¯s pockets, and, surprised, Sheeva called out to the person before giving chase.

    The person looked back and, upon seeing Sheeva running after him, picked up his speed and attempted to dash into an alleyway. Sheeva turned into the same alleyway. He had gotten ahead of her, but not far enough. With a quick trace of a sigil in the air as her fingers glowed brown, she slapped her hand through the sigil and snapped. From the ground ahead of him, roots sprang up to lash at his feet to trip him, and as he fell with arms outstretched, they sprung up to cushion his fall and wrap around his limbs and mouth, muffling his frightened screams.

    Sheeva huffed, drained as the instant sap of energy left her body as the cost to pay for the spell, and stepped closer to him. She wrestled the coin purse from his pocket, along with a golden watch, a pearl necklace, and a set of lockpicks, though miserably bent into a shape no longer useful. Scowling at him, she shoved her precious coin purse into her pocket and tossed the other things aside.

    ¡°You will not speak of this encounter to anyone, do you understand, boy? If you do, I will¨C¡± She stopped and turned around as she heard many footsteps close in behind. A group of children, all appearing ragged, dirty, and younger than the boy stood in her way of the outside road she¡¯d just come in from, having emerged from the old, wooden crates nearby.

    ¡°What are you doing to him? Let him go!¡± The oldest of the remaining bunch demanded, sounding terrified. ¡°He¡¯s just trying to take care of us!¡±

    Sheeva softened, and looked back to the boy caught in her trap.

    ¡°Is this true? Are you taking care of them?¡±

    He feverishly nodded as well as the roots would let him. With a sigh, she raised her hand, loosening some of the root¡¯s bind.

    ¡°What were you hoping to get by stealing from me?¡± She asked. Upon hearing one of the kids run towards her, she turned and waved her hand.

    ¡°Bereich!¡± She barked, causing a web of shingles to materialize in front of the dark-skinned child, who barreled into the thing. He dropped the knife in his hand as he stumbled to the floor and held his nose.

    ¡°Look, all of you, calm down!¡± Sheeva ordered, hands raised. The boy caught in the roots screamed as the roots rose in the air, guided by her open hand. She gave an exasperated sigh and lowered the hand holding the binding spell.

    ¡°Listen¡­if you promise to hear me out, I will let you go. Is that agreeable?¡±

    Stunned into silence, the boy in the roots nodded, and, still holding his nose, the boy on the ground also nodded. Nodding in relief, Sheeva lowered her hand and waved it, dismissing the roots wrapped around the thief¡¯s limbs. They retreated back into the ground, leaving cracks in the ground.

    None of the children moved, and as Sheeva settled, she took a sip of water from her water pouch and popped an energy pill in her mouth. The revitalizing effect was almost instant and cooled her throat like eucalyptus.

    "Now, listen up: I''ll make you a deal. I don''t turn you in for trying to steal from me, and you don''t turn me in for doing magic," She bargained.

    Mouth still hung open in shock, the young boy nodded. She turned to look back at the others behind her, and they slowly nodded, too. She drew in a clear breath and sighed.

    ¡°What were you hoping to gain by stealing from me? What were you going to do with,¡± She paused to see how much she had left. ¡°Twenty-three Inue?¡±

    The boy with the blue newspaper cap, shaggy, dirty-blonde hair, and eyes such a dark shade of orange they nearly appeared brown looked down at his feet.

    ¡°Buy food, ma¡¯am.¡± He admitted, shuffling his feet together and pouting. ¡°Got tired of scraping through the trash.¡±

    Sheeva¡¯s lips pursed as her stomach churned and mouth filled with spit, instantly taken back to the putrid scent and ache of her salivary glands after she¡¯d taken a bite of sour, rotted food in desperation as a child while suffering under the negligence of the ¡°woman that birthed her,¡± as Rose took to calling the woman.

    ¡°You should not¨CShe began, wanting to scold them to stray them from accidentally making themselves ill, but they were children who were also doing what anyone living on the streets would.

    ¡°Ahem,¡± She corrected herself. ¡°You should be more careful,¡± She insisted. ¡°You can make yourselves sick eating from the trash.¡±

    Uncomfortable with their position, Sheeva sighed and peered in her coin purse. While it was nearly empty by this point, Sheeva rationalized that she was about to go work for some quick cash and could afford something for them. She looked behind her at the other children, then beyond them into the plaza. The corner of the produce stand run by the fair-haired lady was visible behind the brick-layered corner, and with a heavy, relenting sigh, Sheeva beckoned them to stay in the shadows.

    ¡°Wait here. I will be right back.¡± She decided, heading for the stand loaded with colorful produce. Upon making small talk, Sheeva learned of a greenhouse nearby the city¡¯s arboretum, which she immediately planned to visit if her pursuit ended in Roussell.

    Walking away from the cheerful vendor with a sack of carrots, apples, a large loaf of bread, and even a large slab of jerky that the children could split, Sheeva felt slightly relieved to find that they had followed her order.

    ¡°Here. Take this as a sign of good faith that I will not turn you in. Is that fair?¡± She asked, handing each an apple, a carrot, a chunk of bread, and a tear off the slab of jerky, taking a small portion of the meat for herself. By the way they devoured the food, she figured it had been a while since they had eaten a decent meal.

    The boy in the blue cap seemed to be the oldest of the bunch, with dirt upon his cheeks and holes in his rugged clothing. His eyes were bright orange, filled with hidden tears and glee as he devoured his food. Beyond the faded, tan shirt that was too large for him and tinted with stains, Sheeva spotted the redness of worn skin from his struggle against the roots she¡¯d summoned to stop him from escaping.

    A pair of what she thought might be siblings based on their similar facial structures hunkered side-by-side, though bickered with each other about who was in who¡¯s space. The girl had the bushiest, tangled knots of hair that Sheeva had ever seen, and she noted that the girl was the only one to perch like a bird upon a stoop. The boy had already finished his food and sat back with a contented sigh, blue-green eyes half-lidded as he seemed ready for a week¡¯s worth of sleep.

    The young, dark-skinned boy that had charged at her when they¡¯d first met sat on a crate off to the side, and Sheeva had to admit, she was impressed with his courage. His hands were marbled with burn scars, and he seemed to keep a watchful eye towards the entryway to the alley. She wondered what hells he may have been through to warrant being so skeptical at such a young age.

    The youngest of the bunch seemed blissfully innocent and hummed a happy tune to herself as she ate. Her long brown hair was also in tangled knots, and the clothes she wore seemed to have been plucked from a bin at random, being so big that the sleeves dangled over the end of the girl¡¯s hands and nearly touched the ground.

    ¡°You know¨Cyou didn¡¯t have to do this for us, miss,¡± The boy in the cap stated.

    ¡°If you want money, I would imagine there are plenty of doorsteps to sweep,¡± Sheeva commented, refusing to acknowledge her charitable act¨Cthough she didn¡¯t have much, she had the skills and know-how to get what she needed otherwise.

    The boy in the cap paused inhaling his food and began to talk, bits of carrot falling from between his teeth.

    ¡°I won¡¯t tell¡­if there¡¯s more where this came from,¡± He stated. Sheeva scowled, and shot him a look.

    ¡°How dare you!¡± She spit, leering down at him and standing as tall as she could, what with a height of five-foot-three. ¡°As you saw, child, I had almost no money, so your extortion is pointless!¡± She snapped.

    ¡°Almost. But you have more, don¡¯t you?¡± He asked.

    ¡°I just spent the last on you, boy!¡± She fibbed, having reserved some to replenish the stock of medical supplies tucked away in a separate pouch of her bag. ¡°Be grateful!¡±

    He blinked, and Sheeva mildly relished in the sheepish look of embarrassment as he looked down at his feet and mumbled his apology.

    ¡°Well? Can I assume I have your silence, now?¡± Sheeva asked, standing to leave.

    The boy in the cap looked at the others, who all nodded in agreement.

    ¡°Yes¡¯m,¡± He voiced.

    ¡°Good.¡± Satisfied, Sheeva stepped past them and towards the plaza to resume heading towards the listing for the ¡°help wanted¡± ad she intended to fulfill, but stopped as one of them called out to her and asked for her name.

    ¡°I¡¯d rather not say, nor do I want to know yours, either. Call it¡­an insurance,¡± She suggested, sighing heavily as she thought of the outcome of the farmer couple she had briefly stayed with before Llyud came along and convinced them that she was something sinister and potentially harmful. ¡°Besides, you wouldn¡¯t want me to implicate you in any crimes, would you?¡±

    Before they could protest, Sheeva hurried away.

    After finding the house she was looking for, the owners immediately put her to work moving boxes and assisting the elder couple in loading up a wagon. Sheeva didn¡¯t ask questions, and thankfully, they didn¡¯t either, seeming to be in a great hurry to get out and on the road. While the task took most of the evening, the old couple paid her handsomely for her efforts, and Sheeva walked away with enough cash for a couple more night¡¯s stay at the ridiculously-priced inn, as well as a bundle of clothes to replace the ones she¡¯d worn through and through.

    The painter was still there as she passed back through the plaza, working on a painting of the setting sun as it disappeared towards the eastern horizon. Sheeva dropped another coin in the pot, grateful that he had finished the map and assured him that she would put it to good use.

    Upon returning to the inn and heading to her room, Sheeva immediately locked the door behind her. With the trace of a sigil against the back of the door, Sheeva cast a warding spell that would buzz at her if someone were to open it, then crossed the room. She secured the shutters to the window closed, placed a ward on those, too, then stopped the tub and stripped while it filled.

    The first step into the tub made her swoon, pleased with the rare luxury of a bubble bath, and as she washed off the sweat and worked away the calluses on her feet, Sheeva took a moment to appreciate the fact that she could soak and care for herself. It was a luxury she rarely afforded herself, but had always been something she had done to raise her spirits or encourage herself to keep trying.

    Tomorrow, the tedious search would begin.

 Chapter 2: The Chorea Family

    Sheeva rubbed at her eyes, more tired than she would like to be. An arguing couple had been at each other¡¯s throats for most of the night, and when not kept awake by angry screeching, she had been kept awake by a near-constant buzzing in her brain as a drunk, confused man kept trying to enter the wrong room and triggering her spell. She eventually opened the door, urged the man down the hallway towards the correct room, and hastily scurried back to her own to replace the ward she¡¯d broken by leaving the small space.

    She stared at the map held in her hands as she blinked at it, bleary-eyed. Not only had he recreated the tattered sketch of Llyud she had shown him with spare canvas, the painter had crafted such a wonderful map, Sheeva almost didn¡¯t want to mark it up as she was about to. She tossed an extra coin in the pot to show her gratitude.

    Examining the map, it seemed Roussell was set in the bowl of a crater, and as she compared this map to the tattered map of Vivroa, the temple she grew up in was located at the bowl-end of the long tail the meteor had left behind in its wake¨Cwhat was known as the Urul-Maizen Pass. The oblong city was divided up into quadrants, with the fabled clock-tower in the middle and the remains of the city¡¯s long-abolished castle not far off. Within each quadrant, there was a centralized plaza for the farmers to sell their hard-labored goods, grown locally in the vibrant, fertile fields around the city.

    Plotted carefully around the quadrants were obelisks or shrines, each dedicated to one of the twelve gods of the continent, though Sheeva wasn¡¯t sure what they were or what they stood for. She had never ventured into the grand churches dotted around Raynak.

    The quadrant just inside from the gates she had entered was shaded yellow and labeled ¡°Southgate District¡±. Three circular spots noting the shrines available for three of the gods, rested within the quadrant, each with their own corresponding symbol: a pair of fish swimming around in a circle to the south, a thunderbolt to the left, and a scroll and goblet to the right.

    The shading pattern continued to the left, but instead of shaded yellow, the area was a light, grass green and noted ¡°Westside,¡± also with its own symbols: a pair of scales for the westernmost location, a trilithon with two different colors on its base that merged together in the lintel across the top to the left, and a spiral of stars for the shrine to the right.

    The northern quadrant, shaded red, was called ¡°The Northern District,¡± with a regal crown symbol in the northernmost circle, a bow and quiver of arrows in the circle on the left, and a blacked-out sigil to the right. Ignoring the anomaly for now, Sheeva continued down the page, though the question of what might have happened to the particular shrine tugged at her curiosity.

    The final quadrant to the east was shaded blue and called ¡°The Eastern Quarters.¡± Facing east, a symbol of a lute and a sackbut¨Can early trombone, by the looks of it¨Ccrossed each other. To the right, a three-tonged pitchfork was scrawled into the clear space. To the left of the instruments, a broadsword and shield were neatly drawn.

    She not only appreciated the exquisite detail, but also found herself mildly envious for the man¡¯s meticulous organization.

    Backtracking towards the shrine she had passed the day before, she paused to admire it for a moment, wondering if the inscription chiseled into the marbled limestone would offer some enlightenment. The shrine was dedicated to ¡°Goddess Giovina, Tamer of Torrent Waters,¡± and the silver pitcher she held in her hands sparkled as she poured a trail of water onto the ground, fashioned from marbled blue crystal. This particular shrine was depicted on the map by a symbol of fish swimming in a loop ad infinitum. Sheeva took her to be something people prayed to for a seafaring voyage, but considering there were no large bodies of water in the inner-most area of Vivroa, she thought against it and decided to look it up if she visited the library.

    Hoping to enlist the help of the city¡¯s guards and military as she had done while in Raynak, Sheeva headed toward the military barracks located in the southeastern corner of the town, an odd, circular layout sandwiched between the shaded Southgate and Eastern Quarters¡¯ boundary lines. According to the map, there were three other such posts, though not as grand in size.

    She paused outside the entryway to the training grounds and checked her reflection in a mirror. She focused, and as she felt her eyes burn, opened them to watch as they changed their color. From the center of her slightly beveled pupils, the deep, rich ruby color spiraled into a light lilac¨Cas close as she could manage with such little practice¨Cto mimicking one of the most common shades of purple irises from people native to Pacem. She hoped the guards would not think twice about a traveling Pacemian.

    Just inside the cobblestone courtyard, another statue stood tall, though not of a warrior as she had expected to find. Rather, it was of a scholar, with a tightly wound scroll in one hand, made of ivory, and a jug of wine in the other, made of shimmering ebony. His robes were green, made of jade, though all else was made of the same, grey marbled material as the previous statue.

    She dropped her gaze to the placard set in the base of the statue.

    Vokken the Wise, Purveyor of Truths, Sheeva read, then looked around herself at the barracks. Truly, the statue did not fit for the ambiance of the place¨Can area littered with soldiers, weapons, and a strictly-kept regimen did not seem to have place for a wiseman.

    ¡°Yeh seem puzzled. Are yeh lost?¡± A voice said behind her, causing her to whip around and reach for the handle of her sword in alarm.

    Before her stood the same guard she had spoken to the day before, an apologetic look on his face for spooking her. She settled, then crossed her arms to fidget out her spike in adrenaline.

    ¡°Not lost, no. I was just¡­¡± She defended, glancing back at the statue, then looking around herself again. On second thought, maybe it was a good idea to encourage wisdom and honesty when it came to training someone for such a thing as war.

    ¡°Ah.¡± The man nodded, stepping up to the statue, himself. ¡°Pacemian like yerself isn¡¯t used to all the gods, are they?¡±

    She tried not to feel embarrassed for her ignorance.

    ¡°Oh, um¡­no,¡± She muttered, avoiding eye contact and worried that the man could sniff out the deceptive cover she tried to foster.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why there would be¡­¡± She trailed off, looking back at the statue in question, then around herself again. Surely, the god denoted by the ¡°sword-and-board¡± would be better fitting for a military barracks. Maybe, there was something she had missed.

    ¡°A wiseman in the midst of this place instead of ¡®Valrigard the Great?¡± He chuckled. ¡°Yeah. I didn¡¯t understand it, myself, at first. Almost seems a juxtaposition, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    Sheeva nodded, feeling a little bit less embarrassed.

    ¡°Anyway, the gods: there¡¯s twelve of ¡®em, yeh see. We only have shrines here, but in the capital, there¡¯s churches dedicated to each one. Been on that pilgrimage once in my youth. It¡¯s quite the journey; I recommend takin¡¯ it sometime,¡± He stated with a reminiscent smile.

    ¡°Hm. Perhaps, someday.¡± She half-heartedly agreed. ¡°But, I don¡¯t have the time for that now.¡±

    The man stared at her for a moment, a disapproving frown on his face that reminded her of the same frown the temple leader would get on occasion. It pierced her toughness, and she avoided his look again as her courage began to crumble.

    The man crossed his arms, tsked at her comment, and shook his head.

    ¡°Piece of advice, from an old guy to a young¡¯n¡¯ like yerself: there¡¯s always time to appreciate the little things in life. If yeh don¡¯t, yeh¡¯ll end up regrettin¡¯ it¨Cmaybe one day, even trying to drink it away.¡± He stated, shuffling his hands in his pockets to thumb the one-year-recovery token he carried with him on a daily basis. ¡°A life not well lived isn¡¯t a life at all.¡±

    Sheeva¡¯s stare hardened, and for as much as she wanted to spit that he didn¡¯t understand her trials of woe in the slightest, a dawning of realization in the back of her mind kept her from it. Perhaps, he did understand, having lived a life in hardship and, apparently, war. Maybe, he¡¯d lost someone close to him, as well.

    After a moment of awkward silence, the man cleared his throat and spoke up, offering a hand for her to shake.

    ¡°Been talkin¡¯ to yeh this whole time and I haven¡¯t even introduced myself. The name¡¯s Tyler Feezell. Pleased to meet you, miss¡­¡±

    ¡°Sheeva Jules,¡± She replied, trying to dismiss the worry associated with giving her actual name as she reached out and shook his hand. He seemed taken aback by her firm handshake, but the flash of surprise was quickly reigned in.

    "What are yeh doing here, anyway? Did yeh find a safe place to stay for the night?"

    ¡°I¡¯m here to enlist some help from the local guards. I figured it would be faster to post something here and notify whoever¡¯s in charge that there¡¯s someone dangerous that may pass through,¡± She answered, retrieving the newly painted sketch of Llyud.

    ¡°I gotta say, Miss Jules, I know yeh say this man¡¯s a murderer and dangerous, but why are yeh going so out of yer way to stop ¡®im? I assume yeh followed this man all the way from¡ª

    --This bast¡ªShe began hastily, then sighed. Rashness would get her nowhere here. ¡°This man killed my mother and threatened my community. Wherever I find him, he either manages to get the drop on me or threatens the lives of innocent people, including children, which I cannot forgive. I¡¯m done with him hurting people, and I want him to¡ªShe stopped herself, unwilling to disclose that she wanted Llyud to draw his last breath by her own hand. ¡°I want him to pay.¡±

    Tyler held his tongue for a moment, finding a likeness to himself when he was younger, angered about the loss of good friends¡ªthose he¡¯d grown up with as though family¡ªin battle. Of course, he had a whole army of people he blamed for it, rather than just one foe.

    ¡°If yeh don¡¯t mind, another word o¡¯ the wise¡­¡± He offered, waiting to ensure Sheeva was listening.

    Even though she crossed her arms and scowled, the tilt of her ear in his direction suggested she was.

    ¡°Seeking revenge isn¡¯t going to bring anyone back. Been around death much, mahself, ¡®xcept, I turned to drinkin¡¯ and starting bar fights. Lost mah best friend of twenty years to an arrow that sailed through his chest. He was right next to me, and if that arrow had been a few inches to the right, he¡¯d¡¯ve lost me.¡± He explained, lifting his eyes to the statue, who smiled back at the world.

    Maybe, Gustav woulda handled it better, and not drank himself to stupidity, Tyler thought.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± He waved his hand at the tangent, wanting to get back to his intended point. ¡°If yeh stop to think on it, the ones yeh fight so strongly for might be disappointed in how yeh¡¯ve chosen to live yer life.¡± He advised, finding he¡¯d struck a well of something as she crossed her arms harder and avoided his gaze.

    With a heavy sigh and a drop of her shoulders, Sheeva kicked at the ground while picking out the differences in the situation. Llyud wasn¡¯t a friend of hers that had died; he was a tyrant that had made her life hell, as did the orphanage she was abandoned to as a young child, and as the ¡°woman that birthed her¡± had before that.

    ¡°What does all that matter, if he¡¯s just going to keep killing people and torturing me with it? I don¡¯t have a choice.¡± She grumbled. She became confused when, after a moment of mild frustration, he simply sighed and seemed to settle about something.

    ¡°There¡¯s always a choice, Sheeva. It might not matter much to yeh now, but once yeh¡¯ve accomplished your goal, it might start to,¡± Tyler offered, amber eyes staring at the base of the statue while he thumbed the recovery coin in his pocket. As his fingers brushed the small stack of cards he carried with him, he fished one out.

    ¡°Yeh might start to wonder who yeh really are and where yer going¡ªwhether or not it was all worth it, in the end. When, or if, it does, and if yeh need to,¡± Tyler paused and checked the card to make sure it was the right one rather than the one he¡¯d use for the old ¡°My Card¡± gag, then gave it to her. ¡°I lead a support group, fer all kinds of things. If yeh have some free time to, yeh should stop through.¡±

    Annoyed, she took the card from him anyway and looked at it. Blue lettering on one side listed a time, place, and the days of the week that the group met, but she didn¡¯t take much note of it, not even half-interested. She noticed that the only two days not listed were in the middle of the week. On the opposite side, two of the same sigils she had seen on her map were found, a vibrant, shiny, spiral of stars wedged within the space of a dual-colored trilithon.

    ¡°Who are these for?¡± She asked, pointing to the sigils on the back of the card.

    ¡°The spiral of stars is for Alena, Goddess of forgiveness and purification, patron to physicians. The trilithon is for Zira, Goddess of the family and of the home, patron to churches.¡± He explained.

    Sheeva gave him a second look since he lacked the clean, pressed robes of those she¡¯d seen running around outside the eleven churches in Raynak.

    ¡°Are you a warrior turned priest?¡± She asked, confused even more when he began to laugh.

    ¡°Not a priest, no!¡± He laughed even more. ¡°Ah, no. No, not at all. Just a¡­an old man who¡¯s been through some stuff. My wife helped me through a lot of things, and this is just my way of showing appreciation¡ªof giving back to the world.¡±

    After a moment of silence, Tyler spoke up.

    ¡°Welp, let¡¯s take yeh to someone who¡¯ll help yeh better ¡¯n me, huh?¡± He offered, beckoning her to follow him through the shaded corridors. Eyeing the statue one last time, she felt a twinge of homesickness for the courtyard dotted with wisteria trees and housing the ¡°Lady of the Water¡± statue in Malfa Temple.

    ¡°So, did yeh find a place to stay?¡± Tyler asked, rounding a corner and pausing as someone also rounded the corner, needing to make a quick step aside so they didn¡¯t run into each other.

    ¡°I have found a place,¡± She answered.

    ¡°Hmph,¡± Tyler grunted, not seeming convinced. ¡°Is it a safe place, then?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m doubtful. The Cozy Cat just happened to be the first place I¡ª

    ¨CBy the gods! Are yeh really staying there?¡± Tyler blurted in interruption. ¡°Why?¡± He asked, looking her up and down again as she struggled to match his long pace. He slowed his gait and chuckled at himself. Perhaps, she had no clue where she was staying.

    Relieved to not have to stretch her legs as far to keep up, Sheeva slowed and caught her breath, thinking. Judging by his statement, she could have probably stayed in an alleyway and been safer than in the shoddy hotel.

    ¡°As I was saying, it was the first place I happened to find. That, and the innkeeper does not seem to care who is there, so long as they pay. I figure¡ªshould Llyud come looking for me¡ªI will be less likely to be sold out.¡± She explained.

    Tyler scratched at his chin, finding she had a point, but still couldn¡¯t shake the embarrassment he felt on her behalf.

    ¡°Yeh know it¡¯s a, uh, a ¡®cathouse¡¯, right?¡± He asked.

    When her reddening face betrayed her, it was obvious she didn¡¯t.

    ¡°Yeah¡­I highly recommend yeh find some other place,¡± He heavily suggested, stopping at a door labeled ¡°Captain¡¯s Quarters¡±. With a knock from his big paw, a man¡¯s voice granted permission for entry, and as they stepped inside, Sheeva felt a wave of warm air rush over her, thankful.

    ¡°Morning, Captain Yates, Sergeant Wedge,¡± Tyler greeted, removing his cap to tuck it beneath his arm. Sheeva glanced between the insignia on the shoulder pads of the man sitting at the table with Captain Yates, then at the desk with Sergeant Wedge, then to Tyler¡¯s shoulder pads and found him to hold the same status as Sergeant Wedge. She held her question as to why Tyler, who was obviously much older¡ªand surely, wiser¡ªthan the two in the current office, did not have a seemingly cushy, lax job as sitting behind a desk.

    ¡°Morning, Ty¡ªer, Sergeant. Apologies. Might never get used to that¡ªseeing you here in the office and not at your house for the occasional dinner.¡± The man sitting at the captain¡¯s desk asked, fighting a sheepish smile for his slip-up.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Yeh¡¯ll grow into yer rank eventually.¡± Tyler dismissed with a wave of his hand.

    ¡°Yeah, well¡­hopefully it clicks soon. Anyway, how¡¯re things? What can I do for¡ªHe paused as Sheeva stepped out from behind Tyler after shutting the door, and blinked a couple of times to ensure he was really seeing a lady with a sword attached to her hip.

    ¡°Uh, um¡­¡± He stammered, catching glances with his sergeant, who had a similarly perplexed expression. Wedge slowly mouthed with his best guess: Maybe royalty?

    Micah¡¯s eyes widened with alarm; he hadn¡¯t yet committed to memory all the crests of the high-status families in Vivroa and their neighboring islands. He shook his head free of its confusion and looked back at the woman of obvious Pacemian descent, considering the plum-colored eyes. Accompanying the look of impatience on her acorn-shaped face, he watched the silver chain of a pocket-watch, with a seemingly intricate insignia on the plating, dangle and wave as she checked it, then tucked it back into the pocket of a specially crafted and tailored leather vest. Her pants, though spotted with dust, were of fine threads, also tailored and form-fitting. The boots on her feet rose to wrap around her calves, and he wondered if they¡¯d been crafted from the thick, sturdy hide of the Midnight Drakes rumored to hide in the Pacemian forests.

    Maybe, he hadn¡¯t been given the heads-up that someone might be swinging by. He stood, intent on minding his manners.

    ¡°Lieu¡ªAh, Captain Micah Yates, at your service, Ma¡¯am!¡± He blurted, correcting himself verbally while cursing himself mentally. Though he had attended a formal meeting once before, he tried to remember how to greet a person of high status: a bow of the head, and a reach of the hand, awaiting the delicate reception of her hand, which he was supposed to grasp lightly and shake in formal greeting. A bit too formal for his tastes, but, as any up-and-coming officer had to, Micah had to memorize and follow through with the practice.

    ¡°Sheeva Jules,¡± She replied, grasping his hand firmly and shaking, in the manner she¡¯d often seen of businessmen working the docks. He looked up in complete shock from his head bow as she took firm hold of his hand and shook, unlike any manner of a handshake he¡¯d been told to expect of those in royalty.

    ¡°Wow, you have quite the handshake for someone of the royal guard!¡±

    Silence filled the room and Sheeva turned to look at Tyler. It didn¡¯t seem so, but perhaps, this was his idea of a joke.

    ¡°I¡­don¡¯t understand. Is this a prank? Perhaps you could clue me in next time,¡± She chided, pursing her lips and crossing her arms in a huff. The thin-lipped line slightly curled into a smile as she recalled the few pranks she and her friends had played around the temple.

    She wondered if Hasch had ever found his shoes, though it was doubtful, having hidden them in the belfry of the eastern watchtower.

    Tyler began to laugh hysterically, holding his hand to his forehead in embarrassment on Micah¡¯s behalf.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Royal guard, indeed! Hah! That¡¯ll be one to tell Tazaro!¡±

    Micah turned a shade of red from realizing his mistake.

    ¡°She¡¯s not¡ªHe paused to turn to Sheeva. ¡°At least, not that you¡¯ve told me?¡± He asked, to which Sheeva shook her head adamantly and allowed the small smile to break.

    The relief on Micah¡¯s face filled the room with a calm, and Sheeva turned her back on the man to spare him further embarrassment as she tittered to herself. As Wedge snickered behind an open, upside-down manual he was pretending to read, Micah mouthed at him to shut the fuck up, and quickly composed himself.

    ¡°Well! If not here for business, then, what, uh, brings you here¡­Ma¡¯am?¡± He asked, biting his cheek to prevent jokingly referring to her as ¡°Your Highness.¡± His fingernails dug into his palms to help distract from the desire.

    Sheeva handed him the renewed painting.

    ¡°I¡¯m looking for this man, Llyud Halma¡ªthough he may decide to use a different name. He¡¯s responsible for the collapse of the mines in Agonia and is also responsible for the deaths of the guard post in Teafshire,¡± She began. ¡°I have reason to believe he will either cross through here or¡­is already here, and I want to¡­prevent a further bloodbath.¡±

    Before getting the chance to really look at the painting, Micah raised his head in alarm upon the suggestion that one man was behind the slaughter of an entire post; previously, they had thought it to be the work of a well-formed assassination team.

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    Sheeva frowned and crossed her arms, disappointed with the reality of the situation.

    ¡°The man likes to hear his own voice, and he gladly bragged about the feat while trying to throw me to the wolves.¡± She summed up, not about to admit that she had been caught in a magical trap after stepping into a glyph hidden beneath leaves on the forest floor. After beating up the group of bandits lying in wait to capture her, it was only thanks to draping a trail of their corpses in a path that jarred the sigil¡¯s hold that she could escape the room.

    ¡°Anyway, he persuaded a group of bandits to take control of the outpost, as a promise of power. While the bandits tried to capture me as a bargaining chip in their coup d¡¯etat, Llyud snuck into the kitchens and poisoned their meal with Valerian Root extract. It¡¯s a paralytic. He then proceeded to¡­torture those who hadn¡¯t already suffocated to death.¡± She explained, then sighed in pity as her expression soured and turned remorseful.

    ¡°They wanted the outpost? They had to have known it was never going to work¨Cit¡¯s one of our more crucial ones, even though it¡¯s not very¡­¡± He trailed off as Sheeva suggestively raised her eyebrows and gave him a knowing look.

    ¡°He¡­never meant for them to succeed, did he?¡± Micah summed, and Sheeva nodded, withholding the fact that Llyud had boasted about that, too, while locked in a swordfight a couple of months later in Maizen, one of the towns bordering the pass leading into the ¡°bowl¡± of Vivroa.

    ¡°Such is Llyud¡¯s way. He gets what he wants, and he manipulates people to do so.¡±

    Micah cleared his throat and finally looked at the painting in hand of the seemingly dangerous man. He held back his initial, surprised impression of the man on the page, astonished at the unfortunate size and crooked shape of the man¡¯s nose.

    ¡°Alright, well, while we look into that¨Cand I do hope you fill me in on the rest of the details so we can corroborate¨Cdo you mind if I hold onto this for a short while until I can get copies to distribute? Let¡¯s hope this man¡¯s ugly mug doesn¡¯t break the printing press. You¡¯re welcome to come back here to retrieve it.¡±

    Even though she didn¡¯t know what the machine was, Sheeva chuckled at the insult and nodded. She had the old copy that was worn to shreds, and if parting with the better painting meant that Llyud would have less of a chance of getting away with things, that was more than enough. Sheeva was pleased with the fact that things were getting done, that she might have the upper-hand this time around, and she felt relief from a weight that had been lifted off her shoulders.

    ¡°Thank you for your cooperation, Captain. I appreciate it. I will be back later for that painting.¡±

    Captain Micah gave a broad, cheery smile.

    ¡°You are welcome. Give us a couple of days to get it copied, at least, and then you can swing back on by. I¡¯d also like to set up a time to discuss what happened to the soldiers in Teafshire, if you¡¯re able,¡± Micah stated, as he headed to a ledger on his desk, opened it up, and grabbed a quill and ink to scribble a meeting reminder. Sheeva sighed and shook her head.

    ¡°Unfortunately, I don¡¯t know anything else about that, aside from what Llyud boasted about.¡± Sheeva stated. Micah stopped, and looked up from his hunch over his desk, quill ready to drip ink on the page.

    ¡°And you believe his word?¡± Micah asked in mild disbelief.

    ¡°I saw his word, sir,¡± Sheeva hissed, lip curled in an offended snarl as her eyes hardened their stern stare, disappointed with the man¡¯s lack of faith in her word. At the immediately worried look on his face, Sheeva bid herself to relax. She wondered what might have come of the young, driven, and particularly kind sergeant if he hadn¡¯t been eviscerated from genitals to chin. The removal of such a good man seemed a great loss to the world. Perhaps, if she¡¯d been able to stop him before he fled after leaving her to fend off the group of bandits, such a loss would have not come to pass.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Micah uttered, realizing that the woman¡¯s warrior get-up wasn¡¯t, in fact, a facade. He set the quill down and stood up, then fixed his jacket straight in his moment of humility. ¡°My apologies, Ma¡¯am. Your vigilant struggle is, uh, commendable.¡±

    Sheeva ¡®tsk¡¯ed and crossed her arms in a mild pout, uncomfortable with being considered ¡°vigilant,¡± since her struggle with Llyud had always been more ¡°vengeful;¡± she''d set off to right the wrong of Rose¡¯s early death, and any other fatalities along the way were an unfortunate consequence of her failure to measure up.

    ¡°There is nothing to commend. If we are done here, I shall take my leave,¡± she insisted, pausing in wait to see if Micah has anything to add.

    "Oh, ah, no. No, nothing more." He stammered, aware that he had struck some kind of nerve. By way of apology, he hurried to the door and opened it for her, stepping aside to let her pass.

    Sheeva quickly gave thanks to Tyler for his troubles, then walked back out into the slightly chilly weather. She retraced the path they''d taken from the statue of Vokken, then took a moment to examine the statue again.

    So far, it still didn''t seem to fit.

    With a deep breath and slow sigh, she let her feet carry her towards the compound entrance as she drew up a plan for the rest of her day.

    The next order of business was to retreat to the Cozy Cat and retrieve her belongings in search of a better, safer place to stay. When the clerk from the previous day didn''t question her early reservation withdrawal and instead commented with a "pleasure to have ya, tootsie," Sheeva wasted no more time in the building and rushed herself outside.

    A good chunk of time that she wished she could have spent towards searching and interrogating for the whereabouts of Llyud was spent searching for better lodgings, instead. She found that none of the other places had nearly as good rates as the Cat, and wondered if she might have to return there with the proverbial tail tucked between her legs in shame.

    She stopped and scoffed at herself.

    "Bastard probably wouldn''t even care," she realized, supposing she should be grateful to have a temporary roof over her head.

    Checking her coins once again, she found she could spare a couple of coins for a small bite to eat, and, referencing her map, she located the same plaza she had stopped in the day before. It was due east, and she took a moment to appreciate the setting sun as it cast an eventide glow over the horizon. With the clocktower piercing the sky, and the old castle off to the right, she felt a twinge of homesickness, and made a note to stop by before sailing elsewhere in her pursuit.

    Munching on an apple and a chunk of bread that happened to be on sale because it wouldn¡¯t be as fresh in the morning, she paused to drop a coin in the painter¡¯s pot, thanking him once again for the detailed map. A sudden chatter of a crowd snared her attention, and she looked up in time to see a flux of people leaving a shop that she hadn¡¯t yet explored. The people in the crowd held mixed expressions, some cheerful, some sad, some seeming in a hurry to leave.

    In the doorway, bidding goodbye to the group, stood Tyler, and Sheeva recalled his invitation to whatever support group he fostered. Curious to know the nature of the group, she muttered an ¡°excuse me,¡± to the painter, and crossed the plaza. Many of the patrons she passed seemed hopeful, empowered as they held their heads high as they made their way, some even greeting her with a chipper ¡°g''evening, ma¡¯am!¡±

    She stopped a few yards away when he gently waved to acknowledge her presence, then stepped off to the side to wait out the conversation he was having.

    The shop they stood outside of was a bookshop that allowed cats, and she stooped to pet an orange tabby as it meowed and weaved between her feet. When it pushed itself into her arms, Sheeva sighed in mock-annoyance, sat, and pulled the cat into her lap to massage its cheeks and scratch behind its ears while it began to purr loudly with content. The collar around its neck was red, and the tab jingling on it read: ¡°Squirt. If lost, please return to ¡®Prints and Paws Co.¡±

    The name of the company sounded familiar, and she looked up at the sign hanging overhead the door. This particular company had a couple of stores in Raynak, and she recalled a couple of quiet evenings she had spent inside the shop after hours, having broken in to find a safe, warm place to sleep if she hadn¡¯t made enough to cover a room for the evening. Plus, the company of cats was pleasant, and helped keep her warm on a frigid night.

    Considering Tyler apparently frequented the place, breaking and entering this shop would be a quick way to spend a week or two in irons.

    ¡°See yeh¡¯ve met Squirt. He¡¯s a needy boy, but we love him all the same,¡± Tyler announced, stepping over to Sheeva. Even though he towered over her while standing, from her seated position, he seemed a giant. It was intimidating, and she urged the cat out of her lap to stand and feel less of a shrimp.

    ¡°I noticed,¡± She chuckled, brushing off the copious amounts of orange fur now stuck to her clothes.

    ¡°If yeh wanted to join in on our little soiree, yeh missed it by about an hour, Highness,¡± He stated with a smile, ushering Squirt into the store as he held the door open.

    ¡°Feh!¡± Sheeva huffed. ¡°Highness! Far from it¨CI could kill a man with my bare hands!¡±

    Tyler hummed in thought about something, then cleared his throat as though to get her attention. With a wave, he beckoned her to follow as he headed for the produce stand.

    ¡°How goes the search for Llyud?¡± He asked, plucking some rogue tomatoes, sprigs of rosemary, and a sack of potatoes from the stand. A bunch of kale and a few onions followed suit, and after grabbing a couple of carrots, Tyler finally reached into his pocket for his sack of coins.

    ¡°After getting help from Captain Yates, I am feeling more confident, but until I can secure a place to stay, it¡¯s on hold for the moment. Until I can fill out some bounties, the only place I can currently afford is a room at the Cozy Cat, and I¡¯m not keen on going back there,¡± she admitted.

    The side-eye she caught in her peripheral did not go unnoticed.

    ¡°Yeh know¡­¡± Tyler began, looking at the bags of groceries in hand. ¡°If yer willin¡¯ to help me out, I¡¯ll give yeh room n¡¯ board,¡± He offered. ¡°And, not just fer help carryin¡¯ groceries¨Cyeh¡¯ll be put to work. My wife n¡¯ I have lots to do, and I think she¡¯d appreciate the help. I know I would.¡±

    Tyler noticed her hesitance while she weighed her options.

    ¡°Look¡­the work I¡¯ll ask of yeh¡¯ll be safer than chasing down petty thieves, so that¡¯ll be enough. And, the house is off the regular path. Easy to lose a tail if yeh feel yeh¡¯ve got one. And, if that¡¯s not enough, I¡¯m still up to speed with my swordwork, unless yeh¡¯ve got somethin¡¯ yeh can teach me. Might be an old dog, but even old dogs can learn new tricks!¡± He laughed.

    Sheeva took a deep breath, held it, then sighed.

    ¡°I will stay for a month¨Clong enough to gather enough coin to make my own way¨Cbut no longer. It¡¯s too risky,¡± She bargained. ¡°That being said, if the work you have will be longer than a month, I...I wouldn¡¯t mind sparing some time in the day to assist.¡±

    He hummed in contemplation, then nodded in agreement, offering her a bag to take, then a hand to shake on the deal. She secure the bag beneath her arm, then took his hand, the large paw encompassing hers in entirety. Still, she didn¡¯t let it phase her.

    ¡°Wow! That really is a surprising handshake for someone of the royal guard!¡± Tyler cackled.

    Sheeva huffed, irate with the unequal comparison to someone who was likely primped, polished, and spineless.

    ¡°That is enough of that, thanks,¡± She insisted, breaking out of the shake and walking beside him. She shuffled the bag underneath her left arm to keep her right hand free to draw Abraxas if need be.

    Tyler traded stories of war for Sheeva¡¯s stories of ambush, and she pocketed every tidbit of advice he could spare for tactics to use, if need be. The veteran had apparently been all over the world, from the floating lands of Tarrakk, to the burning sands of Cruinia Island, and even the snowfields of Vivroa¡¯s northeastern tundra, where they might have crossed paths if Sheeva had stopped in Fort Magh for rest.

    Before long, Sheeva found that she had difficulty remembering what streets they had turned on, or perhaps, Tyler was meandering to offer her firsthand evidence that it would be easy to lose someone as they seemed to take one too many lefts that caused them to go back the way they came by a block or two.

    Eventually, they stopped in front of a wooden fence blocking off a small yard with an array of sprouting plants, some that Sheeva recognized as vegetables, others that she had no idea what they were. The prospect of tending to a garden filled Sheeva with a budding joy and a sense of home, recalling the hours she¡¯d spend watering and pruning the plants and herbivorous fungi in the temple greenhouse. She was curious to know what all had been planted there.

    Beyond the rich, fertile soils and vibrant plantlings, a large, yellow house with a porch stood, with an obvious repair project happening on the porch¡¯s right support pillar; a temporary beam boldly steadied the rest of the porch cover to keep it from caving in.

    Tyler unlatched the front gate and stepped through, holding it open for Sheeva. Still, she caught herself hesitating and glancing over her shoulder.

    ¡°Listen: Not that I¡¯d ever do this anyway, but I wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve brought yeh here if I were plannin¡¯ on ambushin¡¯ yeh or hurtin¡¯ yeh. I fought to keep the violence outta my home, and I¡¯ll not subject my wife n¡¯ stepson to it. Please. Trust me, n¡¯ trust yerself, and stay a couple of days¨Cand if yeh find yeh can¡¯t relax, yer welcome to leave, alright?¡± He assured.

    Sheeva, moved by the convictions of his words, slowly nodded and stepped through.

    They stepped up onto the porch, where Sheeva gained a better look at the repairs happening to the roof. The ceiling cover threatened to bow and cave, held in place by a few more two-by-fours nailed across as a temporary fix, while a folded ladder and stack of fresh, new planks rested to the side beneath a burlap cover. A bucket of paint also rested nearby, with old painting supplies ready for use.

    ¡°Tazaro, my stepson, is helpin¡¯ me fix the roof, but I won¡¯t ask yeh to help, unless you wanna learn a new slew of curse words.¡± Tyler chuckled, holding out the bag of groceries to Sheeva to take. From the moment Tyler set his hand on and twisted the knob, an excited barking sounded out from behind it, and he smiled.

    ¡°I¡¯ll try to hold Jax so he doesn¡¯t trample yeh, he can get too uppity sometimes,¡± Tyler warned before opening the door.

    From the bare crack in the door wiggled a golden retriever that barreled out and pounced up on hind legs to steady its paws on Tyler¡¯s chest and lick at his face. Its three tails wagged and thwacked against the doorframe with reckless abandon, and it didn¡¯t seem that the dog cared that it could potentially be breaking its tail, too happy to see its owner.

    ¡°Ah, yes, happy to see yeh too, Jax! It¡¯s been so long, forty days, forty nights, and forty years!¡± Tyler exaggerated, hooking his fingers beneath the dog¡¯s collar to guide him off and calm him down. ¡°Alright, yeh floof. Go find Mildred!¡± He ordered, letting him go.

    As the dog disappeared inside the house, Tyler turned to grab the bags of groceries from Sheeva¡¯s hands and stepped inside to set them down. Sheeva was still stunned by the size of the dog that she imagined she could have ridden into battle at thirteen.

    Tyler emerged a few minutes later with a woman about his age, though with fair skin, greying hair, and milky, clouded eyes.

    ¡°Sheeva, this is my wife, Mildred Chorea. Mildred, this is Sheeva. She¡¯s agreed to help us out with things for the next month or so while she saves up money for rooming elsewhere.¡±

    Mildred reached out a hand, waiting for a reciprocal grasp, and gasped as a silhouette appeared in the darkness to her right. She found immediately that it was not the same as others she had come across, but rather, a slightly larger, looming presence that ebbed and flowed with a brilliant, dark-purple aura. Within the halo of violet swirled the woman¡¯s ¡°palette,¡± as Mildred came to describe. The mystery woman¡¯s kaleidoscope of emotions lay bare for her to read.

    And read, she did, as a mosaic of primarily yellows, followed by the natural blues and purples one would have upon meeting a new person, rippled like water. The young woman seemed hopeful; optimistic, though reserved and cautious.

    ¡°Ah! Such a bright young lady!¡± Mildred began, causing a wave of pink to filter through, a sign of mild embarrassment. ¡°And, how fascinating!¡± Mildred continued, staring in wonder at the visage, likening the violet aura to the same, long-forgotten-aura of the goddess that had given her the gift of sight. ¡°You have been blessed by the gods, child!¡±

    The yellow colors were instantly swarmed and overcome by harsh, solid greens, signaling deep worry, then red as Sheeva¡¯s hand tightened on Mildred¡¯s. The hand became instantly sweaty, and the controlled evenness of her voice told Mildred she¡¯d stumbled upon something the woman preferred to leave unsaid.

    Stunned into silence, Sheeva could only stare at Mildred, surprised of the woman¡¯s gift. She felt greatly unnerved that her well-kept secret may have been discovered, but perhaps, only her thoughts were being read, as her friend Cassie would occasionally do. Considering Cassie had never known of Sheeva''s Ta''hal side until she had told her, Mildred''s ability seemed something completely different.

    What do you mean by that? She wondered, curious to know the extent.

    When Mildred said nothing but continued to gaze in wonder, Sheeva dismissed the possibility of mind-reading.

    ¡°Ex-excuse me, but¡­what do you mean?¡± She asked, hoping that she was wrong.

    Mildred paused as a small spot of yellow and a dash of blue appeared in the midst of greens and reds. Whatever the reason, the young woman had definitely not aired her secret.

    As a swirl of reds and oranges swept in, Mildred became acutely aware of the combo; it was one she had seen often in Tyler before he¡¯d sought help for the mistakes of his past and those of others that carried around shame and self-loathing.

    ¡°Well, I¡­I¡­¡± Mildred began, still amazed to find another god-blessed Sferran, even though she didn¡¯t know which of the eleven gods had blessed her. The quick, intermittent flux of colors was distracting, and Mildred dropped her hand and brought it to her chest, fishing a necklace out from beneath her shirt. She thumbed the engraving of the spiral of stars and thought for a moment.

    ¡°My apologies, I must be mistaken,¡± She answered. ¡°You have such a strong light, I thought perhaps you, too, had been blessed. I haven¡¯t found someone of the sort in a long, long time.¡±

    Sheeva couldn¡¯t think straight, too boggled by the fact that she had been seen completely through. She began to wonder what kind of light shone from her and if it gave cause for alarm.

    If so, would it give a reason for her to be discriminated against, as it had the previous family she¡¯d tried to stay with?

    Afraid to further disappoint or frighten them into an attack for self-defense, she stepped back.

    ¡°Perhaps I should find someplace else,¡± She decided for them, turning tail. No sooner had she stepped off the porch did she bump into someone, who firmly grasped her arms as he barked out a surprised yelp and fought to steady the both of them. In her moment of panic, Sheeva didn¡¯t hear his apology beyond the rapid beating of her heart.

    With a quick shove of her arms between them and a rough buck of her forearms against his to break his hold, Sheeva shoved past him and hurried to the gate at the end of the pathway.

    ¡°Dearie, wait!¡± The old woman called, causing Sheeva to flinch and freeze, arm extended in its reach to the lock on the gate as a pang of ache stabbed in her chest.

    ¡°Dearie.¡± That¡¯s what you used to call me, She thought, finding it hard to breathe past the tightness of longing in her chest. Though she¡¯d been called ¡°dear¡± by other old ladies that ran the shops, she chalked it up to the simple fact that not only did they seem to call everyone "dear," but they also didn¡¯t see her for what she was, never allowing anyone to look so closely. But, in the span of seconds, Mildred had seen through her cautions and seemingly into her being, and it was a frightening concept.

    Sheeva huffed away the knot in her throat, realizing that Mildred hadn¡¯t reacted with disgust or fear but rather fascination and cheer.

    And, calling her such a bright young lady?

    She could hardly believe it, but the tickle on her eardrums and the echo of the phrase in her head told her otherwise. With apology ready, she turned back to face the family, finding Mildred had ushered the others inside and was waiting patiently, though with hands on her hips.

    ¡°Please, young lady. Allow me to say something to you, and then you may leave if you still wish,¡± Mildred beckoned, holding out her hand. Sheeva approached, but didn¡¯t take the woman¡¯s hand, uncomfortable with being read, then cleared her throat to announce her presence.

    ¡°What¨Cyou don¡¯t want to take an old lady¡¯s hand?¡± Mildred asked, calling Sheeva out on her hesitance.

    ¡°Forgive me for not wanting to, ma¡¯am,¡± She stated, unwilling to be peered at without mercy. ¡°It¡¯s been a while since¨C

    ¨CSince you¡¯ve been vulnerable, tam. I saw so, under all that weight you¡¯ve been carrying. A pity you must have to bear that, and by yourself, too?¡± She asked, tsking in disapproval in such a way that Sheeva felt she was being lectured somehow. Recalling the hours of talking she and Rose would have following a nightmare or snap-back to her past, it certainly felt the same.

    ¡°So you see¡­what I am.¡± Sheeva muttered, eyes downcast in shame. The hardness in her sternum didn¡¯t go away, and she built on it, eager to buffer the hurt of the coming dejection.

    Mildred wasn¡¯t sure what Sheeva was referring to, but in any case, a connection to the gods was absolute.

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­so, but rather than seeing what you are, I like to believe I can see who you are. And would you like to know what else I saw, dear?¡±

    The frustration burned on Sheeva¡¯s face. Why did Mildred insist on dragging the ¡°get-away-from-me-you-freak¡± conniption fit out?

    ¡°Not really,¡± Sheeva admitted. Fed up with beating around the bush, she spoke at her most blunt. ¡°No offense, but if you¡¯ve got something to say, how about you¨C

    ¨CI saw hope,¡± Mildred announced. Sheeva snapped her head up with an astonished ¡°What?¡± met with a knowing, shit-eating grin that she didn¡¯t expect to see on an elderly woman¡¯s face.

    ¡°Yes, Miss Sheeva. Hope. And, with hope, there¡¯s resilience. There¡¯s tenderness and determination. There is faith, trust, and compassion. With as much strength as you foster towards your shame and self-loathing, there¡¯s an opportunity for that strength to be put towards forgiveness and empathy¡­and imagine what you could accomplish through that!¡± She spoke softly, sagely, and as Sheeva listened to her words, she likened the wise woman to the leader of Malfa Temple, which fueled an ability to really listen to what was being said.

    Feeling too bare for comfort, Sheeva lowered her gaze to the worn wood of the steps on the porch.

    ¡°My apologies, ma¡¯am,¡± Sheeva mumbled humbly, crossing her arms to soothe the feeling of nakedness.

    ¡°Apology accepted. Now¡­would you like to come inside and rest awhile?¡± Mildred asked, turning towards the door. With an outstretched hand to guide her way, she found the knob and opened the door, stepping in and disappearing further inside, leaving Sheeva behind in a stupefied puddle.

 Chapter 3: To Be Vulnerable

    What? Who? What one was, versus who one was?

    These were things Sheeva hadn¡¯t thought of in a long time, other than to justify her reasons for her pursuit, her years spent of training to death, and the occasional, accidental, suicide-by-bounty-hunter moments she¡¯d had no other choice but to execute. Fighting to recall the last time she had truly thought of it, Sheeva¡¯s eyes widened as the buzz of memory alighted her face.

    It smacked her against the head like a beating of common-sense, and the crushing weight of thought made her knees threaten to buckle, legs already shaking. Not just her legs shook. Her whole body trembled as she felt herself taken back to the training fields, where tiny, happy, seven-year-old Sheeva had wept bitterly upon fully realizing that her birth-mother had treated her so horribly because of what she was, not who she was, unlike Rose, who seemed not to care about the ¡°what,¡± and more of the ¡°who.¡±

    She took a knee to steady herself, then shifted to sit on the wooden steps, deaf to the creak of the old framework. The relief of the weight off her back as her baggage sat on the deck encouraged her to shift it off of her shoulders, and as she set it at her side to lean on it slightly, the drench of nervous sweat cooled her back at a gentle breeze.

    She gave a huff of disbelief as her senses calmed, feeling that ¡°hope¡± had turned into a broken crutch a while ago, and began to wonder what really kept her going. When she became aware of the terse expression on her face, she rubbed at it quickly and sucked in a breath, then groaned, unwilling to dive into it so deeply. In a forward slouch that stretched her back, Sheeva sighed, letting her gaze meander among the plants.

    Not only was the struggling garden in need of desperate care, but¡­perhaps staying after all might yield unexpected satisfaction.

    Sheeva inhaled sharply, held her breath, then let it out slowly in a calming ¡°pshoo¡± before grabbing her gear and slinging it over her shoulders as she stood. As she crossed the threshold, she paused to close the door, then turned to face the entry hallway.

    Across from a row of shoes lined neatly by the wall on the left, a kitchen with an island, wood-powered stove, sink, and decorative wooden countertops rested to her immediate right, and she admired the chandelier nailed carefully into the ceiling. It appeared to have been crafted from old iron shoes for Sleipnir, soldered together with a uniquely patterned finish. There were knicks in the doorframe, marking off the growth progression of two children, one labeled ¡°T,¡± that stretched up along the frame and stopped about a head above her and the other ¡°A,¡± stopping suddenly at an eighth marker.

    Sheeva paused to eye the oil-paintings along the wall as she passed them. There were only a couple that contained a young girl, arranged to be a memorial. The rest showed a gradual timeline of the man she had bumped into¡ªhim as a young boy playing with a ship with a note that read: Tazaro, age 6, a little more matured child with a bridge made of matchsticks and a bright, happy smile as he showed off a blue ribbon, 14 years old, and last, him in a graduate cap and gown, hugging his mother with pride, Graduation, 19 years old. Aside from his maturation, the only constant was the chestnut brown hair, citrine eyes, and wide smile.

    She scowled at the envy that manifested itself behind her eyes as she saw how happy they seemed to be in each picture. Llyud had robbed her of the opportunity.

    ¡°Sheeva, come here, please.¡± Mildred called, bringing her out of her thoughts. Sheeva obeyed and made her way further inside.

    The living room awaited, with a couch facing a fireplace and a cozy, green, armchair tucked in the corner and a side table next to it. To the right and against the kitchen wall, an old piano rested, with a book of sheet music propped up, though upside down. Next to a sliding door that opened the house toward a backyard, a long, oakwood dinner table rested, with six chairs tucked in around it.

    It was the fanciest home Sheeva had ever seen, considering she had only ever been in one other family home on the outside of Malfa Temple.

    ¡°This house is¡­very nice,¡± She complimented, not sure how it fared in comparison to other houses, but it didn¡¯t matter; it offered more space than she believed it to judging by the outside.

    Mildred smiled, and beckoned for her to sit. Feeling out-of-place in such a nice home, Sheeva hurried around the long couch, shed her baggage, went to take a seat¡­and nearly sank into the comfortable thing.

    ¡°Are you familiar with the gods of Sferra?¡± Mildred asked, to which Sheeva shook her head, then blurted out a ¡°oh, uh¡­no, ma¡¯am,¡± upon remembering that Mildred wouldn¡¯t be able to see a shake or nod of her head.

    ¡°No, I thought not. That¡¯s alright. In short, there are twelve; eleven that we praise, one that has been excommunicated. Roughly sixty years ago, there was a great, black fire that swept across Maizen, brought on by a most terrifying creature: that of a man, but with devilish features. A man with seven wings, with feathers as black as the abyss, talons as sharp as knives, an extra set of arms he could use to tear limb from foe, and a bladed tail he would swing like a whip to lob one¡¯s head clean off.¡± She began.

    Sheeva fought a look of disgust and failed as she prodded at her neck and gulped, wondering if the tail would sound like a whip as it cleaved a man¡¯s head off his shoulders.

    ¡°My mother, a teenager then and a priestess of Goddess Alena, sent a plea to the gods for help. The plea was heard, and the from the forest emerged two more of the creatures, one with a claymore and golden armor, and the other with red robes and the ability to spit fire with a single word. Their fight raged through the town and into the skies, and as they warred over the mountain, a great, blue bubble formed to protect the town from their return.¡±

    Sheeva¡¯s eyebrows raised in surprise, having heard a similar story from the elders in Malfa Temple, though much different; the blue bubble Mildred spoke of happened to be the protective veil that covered Malfa Temple, cast by an elder to prevent the destruction of their sacred home from a great foe¡­who also summoned a consuming black fire. She kept quiet, and waited as Mildred began to speak.

    ¡°The cost for my mother¡¯s plea was to be her first-born, but at the time of my birth, my mother offered another deal; her life, for mine. Disappointed, but yielding to my mother¡¯s bargain, Goddess Alena agreed, with a caveat. I grew up without a mother, and at the age of eight, I became blind, though¡­not quite. I could see anger. I could see fear. I could see envy, sadness¡­pain.¡±

    Mildred chuckled at something, and sat back.

    ¡°I cursed the gods for what they had done to me. I hated my status as ¡®Maria¡¯s Sacrifice.¡¯ I hated feeling how others saw me. In my drowning and despair, I teetered on the edge of the bluff of the crystal cavern, and I threatened to launch myself off of it.¡±

    Sheeva found herself grateful that she had never drowned so far in her childhood terrors, thanks to Rose, but feared what might have become of herself, had she not had a caring person to turn around her life at the age of six, as she had.

    ¡°I had one foot off of that ledge before Goddess Alena shoved me back onto it, a beautiful woman and an ethereal, glowing, pale yellow light¨Cmuch like the light I saw from you, though yours is¡­¡± She trailed off in search of a description. ¡°Such a vibrant, purple color¨Clike¡­the purple snap dragons I used to see in the fields,¡± Mildred admitted with a fond smile, recalling the simpler times of playing in the farmer¡¯s fields outside Maizen.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Sheeva said softly as she realized that the woman had actually attempted to throw herself off the ledge. ¡°She sounds¡­nice?¡± Sheeva guessed.

    Mildred laughed.

    ¡°Ha! She was furious, actually. Said words I¡¯m embarrassed to repeat!¡±

    She could only huff to hide a laugh, surprised that someone supposed to be graceful would show temperament and swear.

    ¡°I am not the only god-blessed, though, it seems. I¡¯ve found two others in my lifetime; a young bard, given a gift from the Musician God, Lucassen. His aura was grey, though I¡¯m told he enjoyed wearing polka-dot shirts and pinstripe pants, and could pull it off well! Heh, what a funny thing to imagine!¡± She chuckled with another smile, though this time it seemed sad.

    ¡°He¡¯s no longer with us. He perished a few years ago in a carriage accident. Shame, too; he had his whole life ahead of him. Only twenty-seven.¡±

    Sheeva sat back to digest the information, surprised to find an alternate story to the one she¡¯d been told, and even more intrigued to find that they both connected, somehow.

    ¡°And, who is the other?¡± Sheeva asked, realizing that the other ¡°blessed¡± remained unspoken of.

    ¡°Why, you, of course, dear,¡± Mildred stated with a cheery smile, seeming happy to have found someone of her caliber.

    Sheeva frowned. The closest she felt she was to anything ¡°blessed¡± was more ¡°cursed,¡± seemingly doomed to suffer for something she couldn¡¯t change. She crossed her arms and scowled freely.

    Was the abuse she recieved from her birth-mother, simply because of what she was, a blessing? What of the filicide of her siblings, commited by said birth-mother? The drowning of her sister, and the stabbing of her brother? Were those to be considered a ¡°blessing?¡± What of the constant hiding of her wings, for otherwise being persecuted and feared for them? Were those a blessing?

    ¡°You say ¡®blessing,¡¯ but it¡¯s been nothing but a curse,¡± Sheeva decided, unbothered by the thoughtful and openly disappointed ¡°hm,¡± Mildred sent her way.

    ¡°Perhaps someday, you¡¯ll come to embrace your gift, whatever it may be,¡± Mildred suggested, hoping so.

    Sheeva sucked in a sudden breath as a voice spoke up behind them, bringing her out of the dark subjects that the two of them had been talking about.

    ¡°Hey, room¡¯s, uh, ready for you, if you¡¯d like to settle in,¡± The man from earlier stated. Sheeva sat up and turned to look at him. He seemed aware of the fact that he¡¯d wandered in on a heavy subject, avoiding her eyes with an embarrassed expression on his face. ¡°Name¡¯s Tazaro, by the way¨Cif Mom didn¡¯t already tell you.¡±

    ¡°Mm. Yes, I¡¯d like to do that. Thank you, Tazaro.¡± Sheeva stated, eager to get away from the subject they had just been entertaining.

    After Mildred stood from her chair, they wandered down the hallway at a slow pace, then up a flight of stairs, and paused at the second door they came to. It was covered from top to bottom with sketches of what Sheeva guessed to be the city¡¯s architecture. When she recalled the picture of Tazaro holding a bridge of matchsticks, she turned to look at him.

    ¡°This is your room?¡± Sheeva asked, glancing back at the sketches.

    ¡°Yeah¨Cwell, it was.¡± He muttered, seeming upset to be giving up his room without being asked first.

    ¡°Thank you for allowing me a bed.¡± Sheeva replied as she turned the handle and stepped inside.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, dearie. We¡¯ll make something to eat and leave you to unpack.¡± Mildred stated, beckoning Tazaro to help her in the kitchen with a tip of her head. Hand curled around the crook of his elbow, they made their way along.

    Sheeva nodded and closed the door gently. She waited until their voices carried away and pressed her palm to the back of the door and muttered an incantation. A red, circular sigil, with intricate layers and scrawled symbols, flashed, then faded. Feeling secure with an alarming ward placed on the door, she turned around to glance the room over.

    The walls were teal blue and the ceiling an off-white. The contrast hurt her eyes as the bright evening sun gleamed off a nearby roof and illuminated the room. A twin bed rested in the corner, the wooden posts scratched and chipped into a rudimentary pattern, appearing to be Tazaro¡¯s earliest works. Sheeva wondered if Tazaro did it out of boredom. As she looked from post to post, the gradual progression of a cute gnome with a tall cap could be seen, and she chuckled to herself¨Cmaybe, it was something similar to her building stacks of rocks while grounded in the few times Rose needed to scold her for something. A tattered-then-patched quilt donned the mattress, and a single pillow rested against the headboard.

    Drawings and sketches of buildings, pages of notes, and a framed blueprint of Roussel littered the walls, faded-yellow parchment seeming to pop out amid the sea-blue color. An artist¡¯s easel with an armrest stood in the opposite corner, with a red, four-legged stool to sit on while he worked.

    There was a brown dresser decorated with various carved miniatures. She admired the work of a basilisk constricting an unknown hero wielding a sword in one hand as it grappled the snake¡¯s head in the other. It had been carved in great detail. The fangs appeared so sharp, she wondered if she could accidentally prick her finger and draw blood. She clasped the lining of her pocket to prevent reaching and finding out.

    An impish-looking creature sat off to the side, propped up to appear floating on a peg. It was an adorable thing, plump and fluffy, like a fresh loaf of bread. A pair of wooden wings protruded from the thing¡¯s back, painted a navy blue. Unable to resist her curiosity, she pushed on the matching navy-blue marble attached to a spring on the top of its head, amused with the way it bobbled about. She stole a glance at the door, worried it might have opened in her moment of distraction, and stepped back, unwilling to be caught touching something she wasn''t supposed to.

    A ragora plant grew on the bedside table. It turned its bulb-like head around on its stalk as Sheeva walked up to it. ¡°He,¡± noted by the defensive, spiny leaves and dark orange spots amid a red background mimicking a poisonous plant, jittered in happiness as she ran her finger along the cuticle of its green leaves. The purple veins were not as rigid as a well-watered plant would be, and the waxy leaves were too pliable. She tested the topsoil: dry. The poor creature wasn¡¯t being well cared for.

    She couldn¡¯t blame Mildred, understanding that her being blind had to impede her ability to do certain things. She shrugged. While she was here, Sheeva decided it would be a pleasure to take care of the plants. Plants, most of them, anyway, could not hurt her. Even better, they would not waste her time with nonsensical chatter, limited to innocent squeaks and unintelligible chitters.

    She grabbed her water pouch and sprinkled water on the soil, then held the pouch to the ragora¡¯s mouth, letting the cabbage-related plant drink deeply. If it did not have its ¡°teeth,¡± she would not have minded letting it suckle the water from her finger. Curious to know how old it was, she peeled back its lips carefully and pried open its mouth with the tip of a blade. The ragora was still young, perhaps a couple of years old; it did not yet contain the secondary layer of sharp, barbed incisors hidden behind its primary teeth.

    Annoyed at her prodding, the ragora wrenched its head away from her hands and snapped at her. She drew her hand back sharply and held up a finger.

    ¡°Watch it, you bastard! I¡¯ll flick you! I mean it!¡± She insisted. It seemed to frown and settled with a slight nod of submission.

    She held the water-pouch to its mouth again, and it cooed as it finished its long drink and wiggled around cheerfully. It reached for her with its leaves, and Sheeva gave a soft smile, continuing to scratch away at the leaves. The cuticle was built up quite a bit, and she had to clear the wax from under her fingernails a few times.

    After the ragora had the scratching of its life, Sheeva sat on the bed. The springs squeaked but compressed easily, and the mattress sunk deeply, and while others might complain, she found it to be¨Cnaturally¨Cmuch more comfortable than both the firm mattress at the inn and the forest floor she''d spent the last couple of weeks on. Not used to such comforts, she did not care for that and stood, grabbed the nearby desk chair, and sat down in it.

    She stared out of the window overlooking the backyard at the great view of the palace, though the palace seemed to have been abandoned long ago. The crumbling walls and dusty, barren rooftops made the place seem eerie. Still, the castle seemed to hide in the shadow of the clock tower, which chimed out the time. It was six in the afternoon.

    Easily startled, Sheeva turned sharply toward the doorway as someone knocked on it, feeling a jolt run up her spine and the hairs on the back of her neck stand. She dispelled the ward with a wave of her hand and opened the door.

    ¡°Oh, uh, it-it¡¯s just me. May I come in?¡± Tazaro¡¯s voice called out, unnerved at the way his face seemed to buzz from a warm wave that had spilled over him seconds before she had opened the door. Eager to convince himself it was simply his imagination, he contemplated if she was some kind of fugitive. But if that were so, he corrected himself, Tyler would not have brought her here in the first place. He shook his head at his thoughts. Maybe, he added as an afterthought.

    Seeing no threat, she opened the door and allowed him in, stepping aside as he wandered in with a tray carrying glasses of water and a plate of grapes, cheese, and a couple of rolls. As he went to set the tray down on the desk in front of the window, the old ragora on the windowsill hissed at him, and Tazaro shot it a scowl, muttering to it to ¡°shut up.¡± She raised an eyebrow. If he wanted to be on good terms with the ragora, telling the ragora to ¡°shut up¡± was not the way to do it. She kept the thought to herself.

    ¡°Dinner might be a while, so we made you something small to tide you over.¡± He stated. "I just got off work, too, so I brought stuff for both of us."

    She took a moment to survey the tray, mildly apprehensive, but dismissed her worries as Tazaro reached for a roll, himself, and bit into it. Pacified, she grabbed a clump of grapes, plucked a juicy-looking red one from the cluster, and popped it in her mouth.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± She voiced, pleased to have something to eat, since she had refused to purchase the expensive meal the inn had offered in the morning. She stole a glance at him through the corner of her eye, gauging his calm as he sat down on the old bed, scooted back, and leaned against the wall.

    Faded, brown slacks that didn''t match the weathered, tan vest over his white, button up shirt hiked up his leg, revealing one black sock and one white sock. She found a strange relief in the fact that his socks didn''t match, and hoped he wouldn''t care that hers didn''t, either.

    "Your socks don''t match either," Sheeva blurted, then wished she''d had a mouthful of food to keep her from saying such a ridiculous, spur-of-the-moment thing.

    Citrine eyes widened in response, and Tazaro looked down at his feet, shoved into the tattered shoes that he kept telling himself he would replace "once they no longer had a soul."

    "Wha-oh. Yeah. Well, I, uh¡­" He mumbled, embarrassedly grabbing for a clump of grapes as well. He popped one in his mouth, then regretted it since he had never, and would never, like grapes; they popped weirdly and reminded him too much of bitter medicine.

    Eager to save face, he volleyed back with his own discourse and alleviate the sudden, awkward airs.

    "Alright, so they don''t. Do yours? Is it a crime?"

    Sheeva chuckled at herself.

    While they did not match one bit, she had already made things weird and didn''t want to exacerbate the growing sense of scrutiny she now faced¡­though the subject of mismatched socks would be easier to explain than a plucked feather stuck between the flaps in the shoulders of her jacket from the giant wings she kept hidden in her back.

    "No. They don''t," She put simply, crossing her arms. ¡°And no, it¡¯s not¡­though some might think so, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°Hm! What¡¯s wrong with that?¡± He added, seeming pacified as he snickered to himself.

    His short wavy hair was a deep, chestnut color and barely began to frame his ears, which were normal, compared to her own; while small, they came to a rounded point, rather than sharp and cat-like as the fabled creatures of legend. She had yet to find anyone that had also been born of a Sferran and a Ta''hal¡­but she also hadn''t taken as long of a look at everyone she met, either. Tazaro''s almond-shaped eyes were a glorious orange color, much like the citrus fruit, though light enough to appear honey-colored as the sunlight pierced through the window and illuminated his cream-colored face. The soft chin accompanied his heart shaped face, accentuated by the part in his wavy hair over his left eye.

    "So, uh, I want to apologize for earlier; when I bumped into you, I didn¡¯t mean to grab you like that. I just didn''t want you to fall over," He apologized, amber irises dropping to the corners of his eyes in thought. He rolled up the sleeves of his button-up shirt to bare toned forearms, albeit scarred from burns, nicks, and what she assumed were spots he''d had to dig splinters from. Long, strong fingers with calloused fingertips and a stained thumb pressed his forearms where hers had met his when she bunted his hands off of her shoulders. While there were no bruises there, there would surely be some the next morning with the amount of force she had put behind it.

    "I, I''ve never had someone do something like that before. It was, uh, kind of cool¨Cif you don''t mind my saying so," He added with an glint in his eye and an amused smirk that stretched into his cheeks, darkened by a five-o''-clock shadow.

    "I must apologize, too¨CI find I am¡­easily startled.¡± She admitted reluctantly. ¡°Did I hurt you?"

    "No, not at all!" He insisted, waving his hands in denial. Truth be told, it had hurt a little, but he was too impressed to care; like a good roast he hadn''t heard of himself before, the quick, defensive maneuver was something to be commended.

    Taking his word at face value, Sheeva accepted the statement. She looked out of the window at the horizon, burning red from the setting sun.

    "So, can I ask what brings you here?" He asked, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed to put his glass on the desk.

    ¡°I¡¯m pursuing a murderer,¡± She put shortly, already tired of explaining herself.

    If she were being honest with herself, she was more tired of chasing after Llyud; Tyler¡¯s advice to take time in the little things seemed to prod at her thoughts like burrs that would pluck off on pant legs and prick like a thorn in the side.

    ¡°Oh. I, uh, briefly thought you were a runaway,¡± Tazaro admitted. "Are you?"

    Sheeva controlled her immediate guilty sigh into a slow hum; the fact was somewhat true, considering she had runaway from the hellish orphanage she was abandoned to by her birth-mother. She figured that, after eighteen years, no one would remember or had even been really looking for her.

    Unwilling to open the subject, Sheeva changed the current topic.

    ¡°If you don''t mind my advice, you may want to consider being nicer to the ragora. They can understand us, you know.¡± She stated, ignoring the squint of his eyes.

    Noticing that she hadn¡¯t exactly answered his question but deciding not to acknowledge it, Tazaro frowned and looked at the ragora incredulously, wondering how it would even be possible to patch the botched relationship they shared. As the ragora stuck out a long purple tongue at him, Tazaro scowled at it and returned the childish gesture.

    Be nice to the ragora? Pfft, fat chance. Tazaro thought to himself.

    "Wow, he really doesn''t like you," Sheeva said, honestly amazed¨Cshe had never known the sentient plants to hold such a disliking for someone before, let alone see it firsthand.

    "Yeah, well, if the damn thing didn''t bite me every time I try to water it or feed it, I might like it a little more, the bastard," He grunted.

    Since her point had been completely missed, Sheeva felt as though her next suggestion would fall on deaf ears, so she held her tongue as she looked around the room once more.

    "Thank you again for loaning me your room. I assume those pieces on the dresser are yours?" Sheeva asked, pointing towards the carvings.

    Tazaro gave a sheepish smile, stood from the bed, and crossed the room to look at his earliest works. They were all done as projects to break boredom, and while he had the more meaningful, "marks-of-progress" carvings tucked away in his closet at home, he still felt just as proud of himself for these rugged few.

    "Yeah, they are. I told Mom she didn''t need to keep them and could sell them for petty cash instead, but she insisted on decorating the room with them, because they''re ''nice to look at." He snickered, appreciative of his mother''s sense of humour.

    He picked up the roughly-chiseled piece labeled "Hassogtha versus The Great Basiliska" and turned it about, chuckling at his lesser-quality handiwork as he thumbed the rough, gem-cut crease of the shield. He hadn¡¯t quite mastered smoothing out edges of curved objects yet, and it certainly showed here.

    "This was my most frustrating piece. First, I couldn''t get Hassogtha''s shield right, then I kept breaking the Great Basiliska''s tail. Finally decided to glue a rattlesnake''s tail to it and call it ''good enough." He stated, shaking it. A smile cracked on his face from the sound before he put it back in its place.

    "Who is Hassogtha?" Sheeva asked. Tazaro looked at her, surprised.

    "You don''t know who that is? He¡¯s a legendary hero! How do you not¨Coh," He paused, noting her mulberry-colored eyes¨Crich and dark for a Pacemian. He hadn¡¯t taken her to be so, since she lacked other, more obvious traits¨Cthe tight, curly hair, the generally taller stature, and the darker-pigmented skin. "Right¨Cguess they don''t have the same legends on Pacem, do they?"

    Sheeva¡¯s eyes widened as she stared back, confused, then remembered she had been consistently changing her eye color.

    "Ah, right. Yes. We, uh, have our own traditions." She murmured, hoping he would take it at that as she shielded herself from scrutiny with crossed arms and a subconscious scratch of the back of her neck.

    Tazaro had the nagging feeling she wasn¡¯t telling him something, and as he looked her over once again, he noted features of Cruinians: sleek black hair, an oval-shaped face, and thin, pink lips, although her eyes didn''t reflect the common shades of red. Rather, they were a deep, dark purple, and, if the sunlight hit them right, he supposed they could be a shade of red. After briefly thinking about how unusually pointed her ears were, he shook his head at himself and cleared his throat. She must have had parents from two different cultures.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Maybe, uh¡­you can tell me about your traditions on Pacem someday,¡± He suggested, hoping to smooth over any indignant feelings he may have caused by being so close-minded.

    ¡°Hm, perhaps,¡± She stated dismissively, almost so immediately that Tazaro doubted she had even thought about his offer. Unnerved and uncomfortable, he reached to return the carving to the dresser, then flinched as she spoke, somehow expecting harsh words of criticism¨Can old habit he¡¯d picked up from the woman he¡¯d suffered a five-year relationship through before finally putting his foot down.

    ¡°So, who is that?¡± Sheeva asked, tipping her head towards the carving in question, eager to get him on a topic he was apparently passionate about before he had the chance to think and ask any more questions¡­and also to satisfy her own curiosity, ever a fan of the epic tales Rose used to pacify her with.

    Tazaro glanced at her, the uncertainty obvious.

    ¡°I, ah, genuinely want to know,¡± She stated to assure him.

    ¡°He¡¯s only the greatest hero we¡¯ve ever had!¡± He commented as his eyes lit up and cheeks curved with a confident smirk. ¡°Well, honestly, he¡¯s the only hero we¡¯ve ever had, but, uh¡­¡± He snickered at himself, then waved it off with a hand. ¡°Hassogtha was a hero chosen by the warrior-god, Valrigard, to aid them in their battle against the god of trickery, Abraxas, his army of Ta¡¯hal, and the great, mythical beasts that wrecked havoc on Vivroa. But, that¡¯s all part of a story, probably created to explain that mess of stars in the sky. I doubt any of that is actually true.¡±

    Sheeva not only stole a glance at her unrelated, similarly-named weapon, but also tensed at the mention of Ta¡¯hal, and wondered if Tazaro knew enough about the legendary beasts to put two-and-two together, but considering that there was such little information to be found other than a five-hundred-year glimpse in history two-thousand-years ago, she had a feeling he didn¡¯t.

    ¡°Mm, there¡¯s always a shred of truth to be found hiding in legends, I think.¡± Sheeva disagreed, uncomfortable with the idea that she could have never existed at all if there wasn¡¯t a hint of truth to be found.

    "You think so?" He asked.

    Sheeva hid her guilty snicker behind the back of her hand.

    "I do. Otherwise, where would the legends have originated from?"

    "Some old loony guy, probably," Tazaro laughed.

    Sheeva grew taciturn, crossed her arms, and directed her stare towards the corner of the four-post bed.

    ¡°Anyway¡­" Tazaro continued, "One such beast was called The Great Basiliska, a terrifying, land-devouring serpent said to petrify its foes with a mere glance," he stated, pausing for dramatic effect. "Sferrans couldn¡¯t defeat it. The gods couldn¡¯t defeat it. Hassogtha himself¨C

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    ¨Cwas the only one to beat the monster?¡± Sheeva assumed, then gave him a weirded-out side-eye as he gave a hearty ¡°Feh!¡± She hoped she hadn''t offended him by interrupting.

    ¡°You would think so, but no!¡± He said as enthusiastically with a wide, beaming grin, personally enjoying the confused look on her face. His sarcastically confident way of saying ¡°no¡± puzzled people everytime, and it seemed Sheeva was no different.

    ¡°O-oh. Um¡­¡± Sheeva paused, feeling sheepish. She collected herself, and looked at the miniature on the dresser. With how coiled the great beast was around the warrior, Sheeva doubted the man¡¯s ability to break free or get a good, killing blow. ¡°So, how did they¨C

    ¨CThe gods blessed Hassogtha with immortality, launched them into the stars, and banished them there for eternity. If you look at the night sky, you can see the constellations Hassogtha and Basiliska, among others that were pawns in the War of the Gods: Behemoth Major, Couerl, Cacious, Impi. Along the horizon, you can see most of the god¡¯s constellations: Hyles, king of the gods; Hyperia, goddess of the hunt; and Alena, goddess of purity¨Cto name a few of the twelve,¡± He explained, finding it all too easy to go on a wild tangent.

    He paused as he noticed how she seemed to hang on every word, and, while mildly embarrassed for "nerding out," he also felt pleased. Tazaro checked through the small pile of books he had on his shelf. Most of them were children¡¯s books he favored growing up, and, like the miniatures, his mother had held on to the things.

    ¡°Here. You¡¯re welcome to read this, if you want to learn about some of the legends we have on Vivroa.¡± He stated, handing her a book so worn, it reminded her of her tattered journal. ¡°Hope all the pages are still there. It wasn¡¯t this beat up last time I saw it,¡± He muttered, tsking at its state.

    Apparently, it had been getting abused in his absence¡­or he had literally read the book to shreds as a young child.

    ¡°You¡­don¡¯t live here?¡± She asked, bringing him out of reminiscent memory. ¡°I assumed you still did.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Ah, no. I live closer to the Eastern Quarters¨Cstill in Southgate, though.¡± He replied, giving a second glance at the slight frown upon her lips as it took him by surprise. Her eyes burned in dislike.

    ¡°Who takes care of your mother? I couldn¡¯t imagine leaving someone who¡¯s blind to be by themself¨Cespecially if it were my own mother,¡± She stated haughtily.

    ¡°She¡¯s not unable to take care of herself. She¡¯s insistent, actually, and Tyler and I both tried to persuade her to accept a caretaker,¡± He defended, trying to ignore the flash of vindictiveness on his face. ¡°She gave us both a very adamant ¡®No!¡¯, so¡­¡± He paused to take a clearing breath and relieve the tension on his face, feeling it no longer necessary as Sheeva immediately seemed remorseful. ¡°To make up for it, Tyler lives here and I swing by pretty often, so she¡¯s not alone.¡±

    Tazaro studied her demeanor as she shifted around on her feet, seeming to wrestle with something as she crossed, uncrossed, then crossed her arms again. Her eyes squinted in distaste, then disappeared as she literally rubbed away the frown creasing her forehead.

    That¡¯s enough, Sheeva, you have no right to be so rude!

    Acknowledging the fact that, indeed, she had no right to impose, Sheeva took a deep breath, held it, and sighed out the rest of her frustration as her shoulders relaxed and her hands dropped to the side.

    ¡°My apologies. I¡­I lost my adoptive mother at a young age. The bastard I¡¯ve been pursuing for¨C¡± She paused to do the math, finding it being much longer than she¡¯d noticed. ¡°Five years, now¨Ctook her from me.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Tazaro stated, then crossed his own arms in discomfiture, trying to shield from the sudden worry that the same thing could happen to him. He shook his head, and stared at something across the way, faintly aware it happened to be a poster of a draft he¡¯d sketched for an architecture competition.

    ¡°Wait, five years? And you haven¡¯t¨C

    ¨CHe¡¯s a conniving, manipulative bastard who keeps getting the upper-hand,¡± Sheeva growled, seeming to flare up in rage as her eyes hardened and her posture stiffened in a highly intimidating presence. He could almost feel the room darken with doom and gloom, and it made him shiver slightly in fear.

    ¡°I¡¯m, I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to¡­¡± He apologized, then snapped his mouth shut as he thought of something to say to save face. As he glanced outside while thinking of a recovery, he sighed, seeting that a few clumps of clouds had blown over to block the sun¨Capparently, they would be in for a night or two of rain.

    He gave her another glance-over as she took in a deep breath and sighed, appearing disappointed with something. Of herself, of him, or perhaps of her circumstance altogether, he wasn¡¯t sure, but it was enough to lessen the tension in the room.

    ¡°So¡­that¡¯s why the warrior get-up. I thought maybe you were a mercenary, at first.¡±

    ¡°Hmph. I have played the part before.¡± She admitted, turning her attention to the tattered book in her hand. ¡°But that¡¯s not the case here,¡± She assured. With a tired look, she set the book gently down on the desk by the bed to read at a later time. ¡°Rather, I¡¯m just sheltering somewhere while I continue my search,¡± She explained, staring out of the window at the darkening sky.

    Tazaro nodded in acknowledgement.

    ¡°Hm,¡± He began, then chuckled with his thought, hoping to lighten the mood. ¡°Well, the only really dangerous thing around here is Jax. He gets so excited for pets, the dumb thing will knock you over if you¡¯re not careful. Best thing to do is just accept it,¡± He encouraged, grateful to find the curl of her lip.

    ¡°Yeah. Considering that dog even gave Tyler a hard time, I fear he might squish me as flat as a pancake,¡± She chuckled, amused with the image.

    Tazaro chuckled, too, intrigued by the possibility of a hidden, childish side to the stoic, warrior-girl get-up. He looked her over again from head to toe, though the first thing he caught himself looking at were her shoes to see if she really did have mismatched socks.

    He couldn¡¯t tell, thanks to the black-dyed, form-fitting, hemp pants tucked into the brown, leather leg of her boots. The scabbard¡¯s metal tip caught his eye as it moved in his vision, and as he examined the holster, appreciated the attention to detail as the etching of a thorny vine of some kind wrapped around the leather backing.

    The leather jacket, apparently modified to include what Tazaro assumed were pockets in the shoulders, seemed well-worn, and as she raised her hands to tie back black hair that reached toward the small of her back with a red ribbon, her form seemed to stretch, lithe and limber, like a cat¡¯s.

    As she sat down and reached for the book, the Ragora on the desk snapped at her fingers, then chittered angrily as she immediately flicked it on the nose. It retreated into its soil with a soft flump, then stuck out its long purple tongue at her.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you give me that,¡± She demanded. ¡°I told you I would flick you, and I meant it, you fickle bastard!¡± She grunted, pointing at it accusingly.

    Tazaro¡¯s face lit up and his laughter flew from his mouth in an instant at her vulgarity.

    ¡°What?¡± She asked, appearing irritated that she was being laughed at. Her mauve eyes, now seeming darker and a little more reddish, directed a leer that struck a twinge of fear in his core. Tazaro held up his hands in surrender.

    ¡°No, nothing! I¡¯m just, uh, surprised! I¡­I didn¡¯t know you could¨CI mean, won¡¯t he bite you?¡±

    ¡°I encourage him to try,¡± She invited, sneering at the thing hunkered down in its pot. "Perhaps he''ll be better off in a vegetable stew," She threatened.

    As the thing hunkered down even more, she settled into the chair, but not for long as a call for dinner rang out from the hallway.

    Eager to eat more than just the snacks Tazaro brought, Sheeva and Tazaro filed out of the room, headed for the table, and sat down. Her eyes widened in splendor at the food before her: a simple baguette sandwich with salted meats, cheese, savory basil, and a vivid, green pesto spread, with a small bowl of soup to accompany the main entree.

    ¡°Thank you. This looks tasty!¡± She picked up her spoon and went to eat but paused as she noticed no one else had started yet. She wondered if she was missing something. Tyler stared at her as though she had insulted them. She set her spoon down.

    ¡°Did I do something wrong?¡± She asked.

    ¡°We pray before we eat.¡± He explained.

    ¡°Ah.¡± She muttered. She had never actually prayed before, but after spending a short amount of time with a family in the northeastern tundra, she likened the small act of gratitude for the same, as brief as possible moments of silence they would have during meals at Malfa Temple. After training all day, she was oftentimes too hungry to care¨Csomething that Rose would often agree with.

    Mildred began to speak, thanking a being named "Alkurik" for the bountiful meal. Unfamiliar with the god or goddess, Sheeva nibbled on her lip, wondering if perhaps the book Tazaro suggested she read would have some information on the types of gods and goddesses they worshipped on Vivroa.

    Finally, Mildred stopped, and Sheeva grabbed the spoon again, bringing it to her mouth and relishing in the earthly scent.

    ¡°It smells delicious,¡± Sheeva complimented, about to take a bite, but paused as Tazaro spoke up.

    ¡°I would still eat it if it were poisoned,¡± Tazaro pointed out as he took his own bite, pleased with the way it had come out, despite not having as much spicy meats as he would have liked. Sheeva¡¯s eyes widened at the word ¡°poisoned,¡± and she hesitated.

    ¡°Glory, glory, what a helluva way to die,¡± Tyler chimed with a grin and cheerful eyes, taking his own gigantic bite.

    Sheeva set the spoonful down and stared at the food, warring with herself as she thought. It didn¡¯t smell acrid, or like almonds, or look remotely like the Tomato Bisque that she still couldn¡¯t stomach to this day. She poked around the stew, unable to find any bits of purple funguar¨Csentient, motile toadstools that could spew toxic fumes and spores into the air when startled.

    Tazaro watched her poke at the food, then recalled how she had also been hesitant to eat from the snack tray he''d brought for the both of them. As his imagination began to run away with him, he opened his mouth to speak the question burning at the tip of his tongue.

    ¡°Have you been¨C¡± Tazaro began, face showing his growing suspicion. He cleared his throat, and gave a slight shake of his head. ¡°Sorry, are you not a fan of meat? I should have asked. My apologies,¡± he stated, offering her an out if she needed it.

    ¡°Oh, no, I, I¡¯m fine,¡± She managed, flustered. Her eyes burned in extreme embarrassment.

    Tazaro¡¯s face tightened, and he busied himself with his food, though stole a glance at Sheeva, who had thankfully begun to eat like a starving person, though managing some restraint. He fell silent as he began to wonder about the circumstance, if it were true, and drafted ways to elicit information without giving himself away.

    Sheeva gobbled her food in wonder at the pleasant assault on her taste buds; sweet carrots and savory onions and celery, rich cluckatrice stock made creamy from milk, well-cooked red potatoes, and even a subtle, earthy bitterness of kale made her swoon.

    ¡°Good, isn¡¯t it, dearie?¡± Mildred asked with a knowing smile. Sheeva paused, frowning once again at the name.

    ¡°Call me Sheeva.¡± She announced sternly, trying to collect herself in front of them as she finally noticed their staring. At Tyler¡¯s mildly offended look, Sheeva cleared her throat.

    ¡°Please.¡± She added softly, humbled.

    ¡°Alright. Formality it is.¡± Mildred agreed, causing Sheeva to give a questioning look. ¡°It must be hard for a Cruinian woman in Vivroa. How do you manage?¡± Mildred asked. Sheeva paused, felt an adrenaline rush as Tyler stared at her with a baffled look on his face, and realized that her spell had ended without her knowing it.

    Glancing at her reflection in the mirror spanning the wall above the fireplace she sat across from, Sheeva saw her eyes had reverted to their ruby-red state.

    Damn it! Sheeva thought. She swallowed and forced a drink of water to wash it down.

    ¡°I can take care of myself.¡± She forced, keeping her gaze fixed on the centerpiece. She hurried to eat her food, wondering if they were going to kick her out.

    Tazaro glanced at Sheeva, found her eyes to be a deep, ruby-red, and wondered how the fact had slipped past him considering that, not only was eye-color the first thing people usually looked at, he''d also just been talking to her alone a little while ago, and they had been a deep, rich, plum. He shook his head at himself as he thought maybe he had imagined it¨Che wouldn''t have taken her for a Pacemian otherwise, lacking the dark-skinned characteristic of the island¡¯s denizens.

    ¡°Wait, weren¡¯t your eyes...purple, before?¡± Tyler asked, confused.

    Tazaro bit back his "ah-hah" moment, thankful for his stepfather''s unintended affirmation that she had definitely had purple eyes before.

    "Ah, sometimes the sunlight can, uh, make it look funny," She attempted.

    Tazaro coughed to mask his huff of disbelief, though he couldn''t help figure her for a terrible liar. His lip curled at what he would have said, if he knew her better¨Che always got a kick out of sarcastically saying ¡°Right, and the sky is purple, too!¡± Instead, he held his tongue; rather than embarrass her further, he directed his skepticism towards a bird perched on the laundry line in the backyard instead, meanwhile musing on the anomaly.

    If not ¡°sunlight,¡± maybe, she had found one of the newly-discovered crystals allowing temporary magic and was in the habit of changing her appearance.

    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re just tired, Tyler. You''ve been, uh, burning the midnight oil for a while.¡± Tazaro suggested. Maybe, she really was on the run, and the changes to her appearance were a way to keep her safe from the murderer she pursued.

    Tyler''s lips pressed together, mildly feeling called out, but he sighed in defeat as he felt how heavy his eyelids felt.

    "Yeh¡­yeh, I know," He grumbled.

    ¡°It''s ok, dear¨Cah, Sheeva.¡± Mildred corrected herself. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter where you¡¯re from. Everyone looks absolutely wonderful to me.¡± Mildred chuckled.

    Sheeva opened her mouth to retort, then hid a small laugh behind another bite of the sandwich, much as she didn¡¯t care for toasted bread. Still, the salted meats, cheese, and rogue tomato were a delight, and with the added olive oil and sharp, sweet, dark vinegar, she could care less about the unnecessary hardness of the crust.

    ¡°Looks shouldn¡¯t matter anyway. We are where we are in life due to our choices, not our looks¨Cwell, some of us, anyway.¡± Mildred said.

    Sheeva lowered her spoon, then set it down in her bowl, contemplating the wise advice. It felt like something ¡°The Boss¡± would say. She made a mental note to share the information over a cup of tea if she ever returned to Malfa Temple.

    ¡°You...do not mind?¡± She asked. Mildred nodded.

    ¡°We are all Sferrans. Must we separate ourselves so? I am happy to lend a hand. It is what Goddess Alena would want.¡± She answered.

    ¡°Goddess Alena is the patron of physicians and apothecaries¨Cone that we happen to all agree with.¡± Tazaro explained, recalling that she didn¡¯t know anything about the celestial beings, though, with the new information of her hiding her ancestry, he wondered if her ignorance was just for show. He doubted so.

    ¡°Hm. Does she have a church here? I passed up the opportunity to step foot in one when I was in Raynak.¡±

    Both Tazaro and Tyler looked up and over at her, each with their own protest.

    ¡°You were in Raynak, and you didn¡¯t check out the churches? They''re archaic!¡±

    ¡°Yeh never told me yeh¡¯d already been to Raynak!¡±

    Sheeva pursed her lips, trying not to feel foolish about the subject.

    ¡°Considering Llyud¡¯s criminal tendencies, I did not take him for a righteous man¨CI doubt I would have found him praying in a church!¡± She defended.

    Tyler sighed, gravelly, and Tazaro recognized it as a sigh of acceptance. It was one he¡¯d often heard while growing up and particularly after voicing his desire to pursue building things and sketching blueprints rather than join the military. Of course, after learning how high up off the ground he would have to be while actually building the constructs he dreamed up, Tazaro quickly decided to keep his feet on the ground and focus on woodworking, instead.

    ¡°Even if yeh had, there¡¯s not much the law can do if he stakes a claim of sanctuary¨Creligious protection.¡± Tyler explained, biting into his sandwich. By the look on his face, Tazaro had the feeling they¡¯d had someone get away from them by using such a ruse.

    ¡°Hm,¡± Sheeva hummed, forcing a bite of soup.

    The law might not have done anything, but I still would have, she thought.

    Judging by the expression and Sheeva¡¯s suddenly forced bites, Tazaro had a feeling she couldn¡¯t care less about the law and how it operated. He kept the thought to himself.

    Sheeva finished her meal way before the others, wiped her mouth with a napkin, and stood to leave.

    ¡°Thank you for the meal.¡± She stated before picking up her dishes and carrying them to the kitchen to set them in the sink.

    Tazaro traded glances with his stepfather across the way, curling an eyebrow and mildly confused as they heard the water run and the clattering of the dishes as Sheeva assumedly began to wash her own.

    ¡°Yeh don¡¯t have to do that, yeh know.¡± Tyler called, pausing in eating his meal.

    Sheeva paused, then appeared around the corner, an apologetic look on her face.

    ¡°In the community I grew up in, those who did not cook, cleaned up. I would not disrespect your hospitality by not doing the same here. But¡­¡± She paused, realizing how odd it might be to have someone else washing your dishes, especially if they looked as nice as the ones she¡¯d just rinsed and set in the dishrack. ¡°If you insist, then I will refrain from it next time.¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯ll be fine, Miss Sheeva. Your efforts are appreciated,¡± Mildred assured.

    With that, Sheeva returned the towel she¡¯d used to dry her hands with, then back around the corner to stand in the doorway, thinking of something else to say or do to show her gratitude.

    ¡°If it¡¯s any consolation, at least you¡¯re tidier than the last guy we had here,¡± Tazaro said with a grin.

    ¡°Funny! Weren¡¯t you the last guy here, T?¡± Mildred snorted.

    Sheeva even cracked a small smile at Tazaro¡¯s joke, though from what she could tell of the old room, he likely carried himself in a neat manner. Feeling soothed and oddly comfortable, she decided to take a moment to reflect on the whirlwind of events and leave the family to go about their usual evening, whatever that may look like.

    ¡°May I¡­step out into the backyard for a moment?¡± Sheeva asked hesitantly, eager to get fresh air on her face. Sure, the room they loaned for the time being had a window that she could open, but the urge to pace lingered in her feet.

    ¡°Of course. Door¡¯s unlocked.¡± Tyler waved, standing with a groan as he headed for the couch against the wall in the living room. Mildred followed and sat next to him with a smile, and as Tyler began to read to Mildred, Sheeva felt another pang of longing.

    Rose teaching her to read was something Sheeva was ever grateful for, and, when she allowed herself the freedom to, Sheeva read anything that sparked her interests: the many plants and animals of Sferra, the epic tales woven by traveling caravans, and even the occasional recipe book if she wanted to gain new ideas for meals to cook in the field.

    As Tazaro set to clearing the table and washing the rest of the dishes, Sheeva made her way through the hallway and to the backdoor, meanwhile fighting the sheepishness she felt, especially considering how rude she may have been in being hyper-vigilant. She sneered in distaste at her mistrust; surely, the family willing to foster her would have no reason to poison her unless they were working for Llyud, and although she hadn¡¯t known Tyler for long enough, there had been no tell when she had shown him his picture or disclosed some of the things that they had done to each other.

    She shook her head at herself. She recognized she was being overly cautious, and it wasn¡¯t fair to their generosity.

    ¡°You¡¯re an asshole, Sheeva,¡± She grunted, crossing her arms in a pout and thudding the toe of her boot on the brick inlay of the backyard patio, where another table, with an outdoor brick oven rested.

    ¡°Weird, sure, but an asshole? Gimme time to decide on that one.¡± Tazaro¡¯s voice said in the doorway, causing her to wheel around in alarm and instinctively grab for the handle of her sword. He noticed the quickness to defend, and raised his arms in immediate surrender, though his hands held two glasses of water. ¡°Whoa, sorry¨Cdidn¡¯t mean to spook you,¡± He immediately apologized.

    Sheeva relaxed, shifting around to alleviate the sting of adrenaline up her spine. The sap of rapid-fire nerves drained her, and she felt it on her face.

    ¡°It¡¯s¨CIt is alright. I am just¡­flighty, and unnecessarily so.¡±

    Tazaro tipped his head, holding back the sassy comment he had for that.

    She watched as he took a sip of the glass in his right hand before holding it out for her to take, and before she had the chance to wonder if that had been a mistake, he was already halfway done downing the other glass. Stunned, she reached for the glass he offered her.

    "You, uh¡­" Sheeva paused, processing what he had done as she stared at the glass in her hand. "Are¡­perceptive," She commented, taking an awkward sip, grateful for his show of proof that the water had not been tampered with. "Or¡­can you read minds like your mother?" She asked, too tired to try to figure it out for herself. Dealing with one person that could read her would be exhausting enough.

    ¡°Mno, not a mind-reader." He answered. "I don¡¯t have any abilities¨CI¡¯m just an average guy, nothing special.¡±

    Tazaro sighed, and leaned against the doorway, eyeing the horizon, now an eventide glimmer as the sky darkened and the stars began to sprinkle the sky. The burning question lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to say it, terrified by the reality that such a terrible thing had actually happened.

    Sheeva frowned for a moment, discontent with the nagging feeling that he had wanted to ask about something else, entirely. Determined to dismiss it, she focused on his claim that he was ¡°average.¡± It didn¡¯t seem to fit¨Cnot with the efforts he¡¯d apparently put in to his chosen profession.

    ¡°You say ¡®average¡¯¡­yet you have become a craftsman? If those miniatures on your dresser and those blueprints on the wall are your earlier works, I am interested to see what you can create now. I would say that is commendable¨Cto start with nothing and make something of yourself,¡± Sheeva mused. ¡°It seems a freedom that anyone who¡¯s ¡®blessed¡¯ does not have. You can become anything; anyone.¡±

    The joking statement he was going to make fell to the back of his mind and died, surprised by her own, genuine compliment. Skeptical, he tried to clear away the tightness of disbelief in his chest.

    ¡°Oh? You, uh, think so, huh?¡±

    ¡°Yes, I do,¡± She insisted sassily, complete with a head nod, as though to imply the unspoken: ¡°are you fucking deaf?¡±

    The silence dragged on between them as Tazaro tried to decide whether or not she was being serious. He supposed, when he thought about it, that he was assuming she wasn¡¯t being sincere because of the social norm to ¡°say someone was ok¡± or pretending to ¡°be nice,¡±--the commonplace "good!" When asking a near stranger how they were doing or how their day happened to be going.

    ¡°If I did not, I would not have said so,¡± She firmly stated, perhaps a little too firmly as she noticed the heaviness in her voice. She rubbed at the tire of her eyes.

    ¡°Correct me if I am wrong, but¡­I believe you wanted to ask me about whether or not I have been poisoned.¡± She forced, tired of feeling the discomfort associated with people ¡°tiptoeing around the lake,¡± preferring to face things head-on. Assumptions only festered anxious thoughts.

    Tazaro couldn¡¯t believe how straightfoward she was with the question, and felt relieved that she had brought it to light, though he still swung the glass around as he tried to find a better way to phrase it.

    The shock on his face told her her answer.

    ¡°I wanted to, but that would be rude,¡± he admitted.

    Sheeva shook her head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. With how¡­ridiculous I was being, you had reason to believe so. Asking now is better than skirting around the issue, isn¡¯t it?¡± She insisted, annoyed with the implication that she would have considered it rude.

    ¡°Uh. Yeah, I, I guess so,¡± He agreed, taking a drink of his water.

    ¡°So¡­what happened there?¡± He asked.

    Sheeva stared at her cup, then set it on the table and slumped into a chair. He copied her, back still aching from pouring over a repair project all day.

    ¡°I was heading to a mining town to look for Llyud, tucked in the southeastern crags of Vivroa. Along the way, I had survived an encounter with a behemoth, and just barely escaped, but I was severely wounded¨Cthose bastardly creatures have tails like whips. I found Midna¡¯s Overlook and sought help from the local doctor in patching up the wounds I couldn¡¯t mend.¡± She stated, feeling a shiver crawl along the scar creeping along her back. She shifted around uncomfortably and used the back of the chair to scratch the itch.

    ¡°They gave me a meal: Tomato Bisque, a toasted cheese sandwich, and some tea. I devoured it; hadn¡¯t eaten much in a couple days while trying to get to the town. I didn¡¯t realize something was wrong until I went to move and found I couldn¡¯t. They then injected me with something that made me sleep,¡± She explained, shivering as she recalled the icyness of the drug coursing through her veins.

    ¡°By the gods! What did they do to you?¡± He asked, feeling his fingers go numb with haunted chill.

    Sheeva stared at him, wondering how to explain without giving away too many secrets. They¡¯d pinned her down, pushed an elbow at her back, wrestled her wings from their covers, and plucked them bare. They¡¯d forced her eyes open to sketch the beveled pupils she had that other Sferrans did not. They¡¯d draw vial, after vial, after vial of blood, eager to determine what she was.

    As her distance grew, Tazaro¡¯s mind began to go rampant to fill in the gaps, imagination cursed by things he¡¯d heard Micah speak of while raiding underground markets or liberating criminal encampments. Disgusting acts of torture. Violence, drugging. Dogfighting. Even sexual assault.

    ¡°Sorry¨CI shouldn¡¯t have asked. Um¡­How did you get out?¡± Tazaro asked in a ghost of a whisper, horrified.

    Sheeva dropped her gaze to the firepit as the horrifying stench of seared skin and singed hairs lingered, then leered at something else, further avoiding Tazaro¡¯s eyes and aware of the heat of embarrassment on her face. Though she preferred to be blunt, this was different; something she was not, and might never, be able to say without guilt for having taken many lives in her blind, desperate escape.

    Noticing her extreme defensiveness and the guilty look on her face, Tazaro tried to wave the matter off, though he wasn''t able to prevent himself from drawing conclusions, considering how dark and frightening her steeled, fierce glare was.

    ¡°You, uh, don¡¯t have to answer that, ei¨C

    ¨CI fought for my life and forced my way to freedom," She answered, holding back a mass amount of explicit details that might have had the city-dwelling man hurling up the fantastic dinner they''d just had. Still, she cringed as the echoes of screams and the roaring of flame resounded in her ears, and began to fidget with the pommel-stone forged into Abraxas''s handle. The hardness of steel in her palm anchored her, and, like she had learned under Rose''s healing care, began to breathe herself calm.

    The first breath was the shakiest and most uneven, but as she continued, each successive breath became more and more fresh and liberating. She leaned back in the chair and stared blankly at the sky, exhausted as she mused to herself.

    She supposed that¨Cas long as it was after Llyud''s final breath¨Cif she were to meet her demise, it would be a fair price to pay for her sin of blind manslaughter, unable to reconcile her wrongs or justify her reasons other than extreme hatred for her captors.

    ¡°Hm, look at that. Idriss is back in Cassius, again,¡± Tazaro commented, also leaned back in his chair and staring at the darkening night sky.

    Sheeva looked down from the stars that she hadn¡¯t been paying attention to and over to the man, seeming pleasantly distracted considering all that she had just revealed.

    ¡°What?¡± She asked, not having a clue of what he was on about¨Cthe statement was so out of left field, she wondered if he had even been listening.

    ¡°Yeah, Idriss will bounce back and forth between Couerl and Cassius. It becomes the tag on Cassius¡¯s Collar if it¡¯s not the jewel of Couerl¡¯s Eye. See that red spot, way out there?¡± He asked, pointing in the direction he was looking. Sheeva followed the trajectory of his finger, and, lo and behold, there was the red dot in the bright sky, though she didn¡¯t seem to think it resembled the jewel of a collar.

    ¡°Oh,¡± She hummed, finding herself pondering the fact. ¡°Does¡­that have any special meaning?¡±

    Tazaro smirked. It had nothing to do with anything ¡°special¡± besides the changing of the seasons, being a pattern that alternated every two seasons or so.

    ¡°Suppose so¨Cif you want it to. Up to you,¡± He offered, propping his head in his hand to hide the giveaway smile. Sheeva noticed the curling grin and scoffed, realizing he¡¯d been pulling her leg. Still, the lack of seriousness was refreshing, and she did, indeed, feel better if that had been his intent.

    ¡°I wonder what it looks like up close,¡± She mused, thinking she might check it out during a night-time flight.

    ¡°Hm! That makes two of us!¡± Tazaro stated, relieved at the small commonality. He made to take a drink of water, forgetting he had already downed his glass, then tsked and set the glass down on the table. ¡°You know¨Cspeaking of red¨Cyou¡¯ll have to tell me how you changed your eye color¨Cbecause I know they were purple before. Hmph. ¡®Tell me about your Pacemian traditions someday,¡¯ indeed!¡± He scoffed. Sheeva pursed her lips, embarrassed.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been turned away because of my eye color before,¡± Sheeva justified. ¡°I didn¡¯t want it to be the same here.¡±

    Tazaro looked over at her, then slouched back in his chair.

    ¡°Can¡¯t say I blame you; considering the things that have been done in Vivroan history, we¡¯re not exactly paragons of perfection, but damn if we don¡¯t brag like we are!¡± He stated sarcastically, with a roll of his eyes and a cynical whoop-de-fuckin¡¯-doo motion with his index finger. The gesture didn¡¯t seem appreciated as she pursed her lips into a thin line.

    ¡°If there¡¯s one thing I can say about this family, it¡¯s certainly that you¡¯re not gonna find that here. Like mom said, looks don¡¯t matter. It¡¯s what you do.¡±

    Sheeva relaxed, feeling assured by his words and also hoped he had forgotten about the changing of eye color altogether. At the quizzical look on his face and the drumming of his fingers on the table in thought, Sheeva braced herself.

    ¡°But seriously how did you do that? And, please don¡¯t tell me it¡¯s because of crystals the military¡¯s been mining for. There''s no way that can be true.¡± Tazaro asked.

    Sheeva paused, unsure of what Tazaro was talking about. Her capacity for magic had always been something inherent, though she chalked it up to her Ta¡¯hal side, and whatever magic the community had seemed linked to the ancient deities they would speak of. Surprisingly, the beings in question were the same as the ones Mildred described in her story, and Sheeva found herself thinking that such a connection couldn¡¯t be pure coincidence. When she returned, she would have to ask the leader for clarification on the events that had occurred.

    ¡°Um¡­¡± She trailed off, digging her nails into her palms to scratch the itch from wanting to reveal the truth with a clever cast of a ball of light. She couldn¡¯t do that to herself.

    Tazaro stared at her, mildly amazed at the fact that Micah might not have been joking, after all, and the military had really found crystals that they planned to power machines with. Not sure if she was about to confess to stealing from the military, Tazaro shook his hand to wave it off, unwilling to become guilty by proxy, should the incident lead to Micah somehow.

    ¡°Heh, knew Micah was pulling my leg. Nevermind¨Cforget I asked. Guess it really was just a trick of the light.¡± He dismissed, though still incredibly curious. Maybe, he would press on the issue at a later time.

    ¡°Hm. Perhaps I¡¯ll show you the trick sometime,¡± She half-promised, relieved to find he was willing to let it go¡­for the time being.

    With the reason that she was ¡°tired and finally wanted to get some rest,¡± Sheeva dismissed herself, pausing to refill her glass in the kitchen before making her way up to the room. After letting the ragora drink to its content once more, Sheeva locked the door, stripped herself of her clothes, and bared her wings, gasping in satisfaction as her back finally popped the way she¡¯d been wanting it to all afternoon.

    She took a moment to flex and stretch, essentially ruffling the feathers in order to access the natural oils the glands in her skin released. With her fingers, and as tenderly as she could, Sheeva worked the oils across the vanes to relock any unzipped feathers in place, then stared at herself in the body-length mirror hanging on the backside of the closet door.

    The white, then silvery grey wings were as long as she was tall. The longest feathers of the three layers rested on the outermost edge, and curled around her calves as she tucked her wings back in a comfortable rest. The arch of their first and second limb, covered with finer, smaller feathers, cupped her shoulders, and as she angled a wing in front to run her fingers through the down in search of any missed spots, a bright, oily sheen reflected from the light in the oil-lamp secured to the wall.

    As she caught eyes with herself, she couldn¡¯t hold the gaze for long, embarrassed and ashamed, for she didn¡¯t know what she truly wanted beyond Llyud¡¯s death.

    And, she was full of hope? Hope for what?

    Acceptance, she told herself, in desperate, honest measure for an answer¨Ca better answer, than just Llyud¡¯s death.

    She glanced at herself again, finding disappointment.

    She wanted the acceptance she¡¯d found of the woman who¡¯d adopted her, who couldn¡¯t bear children of her own, and who¡¯d also been shunned from the outside world. She wanted the acceptance of her mentor, who¡¯d hadn¡¯t been afraid of her when she bared her wings, and taught her that she was worthy, and more than a devil-child. She wanted the caregiver that had lulled her to sleep and soothed her fears following nightmares, and shared in wondrous moments of watching the ¡°colorful lights in the sky¡± as they popped and echoed across the mountainside in the middle of summer.

    However, she would never have such acceptance from Rose again, and, frankly, didn¡¯t want it from anyone but Rose. She became aware of how selfish it was, but didn¡¯t care, and pouted like a child.

    And what of the others here? Mildred surely seems capable, considering.

    It was still hard to believe, but with the affirmation that both Mildred and Tazaro gave that the ¡°what¡± mattered less than the ¡°who,¡± Sheeva found herself oddly optimistic about her outcome. She huffed at the budding warmth in her chest and closed the closet door. Searching for her night clothes, she raised her wings to fold the metacarpus and ulnare against the radius and ulna, then shuffled the wings back into their mysterious casings.

    After donning the pair of sleepwear, Sheeva pulled herself into the bed, curling up on her side. She perused the sketches on the wall, finding that among many of the architectural drawings, outlines of the constellations Tazaro had spoke of lay hidden in the crowd.

    Perhaps, if she studied them enough, the next time she took flight at nighttime, she could fly among the billions of stars with a greater appreciation and pick out the constellations as they came into view.

    Sleep came quickly since the night was quiet, her stomach was full, and she felt finally relaxed for the first time in a while.

 Chapter 4: A Night Out on the Town

    A couple of weeks had passed since settling in at the Chorea¡¯s, and because she didn''t need to worry quite so much about securing a place to stay, Sheeva found she could pour focus into her search for Llyud as well as save up money for when she would need to eventually leave. She didn''t want to take advantage of their hospitality, despite their insistence that they didn''t mind and that the help she had given towards fixing the porch, assisting Mildred on walks or with chores, and even running the occasional errand certainly made up for more than what they''d expected.

    In between tasks, Sheeva concentrated on her search as much as she was able. During the day, if not searching in person, she would craft a false bird fashioned from the brown moss and twigs on the rooftop. After verifying that she could see and hear through it, she would fly towards people''s windows or tables and pretend to peck at the ground for scraps while she listened in as they chatted. Every once in a while, if the people she was eavesdropping on noticed her bird, they would throw her treats and be none the wiser. She''d learned how oddly comfortable it could be to nestle in a windowsill garden under the shade of a growing tomato plant. During the night, if not patrolling the streets she had yet to memorize or asking for information at the many taverns likely to be packed until past midnight, she would retrieve a handful of coals from the fireplace, jump up to the roof, and form a Black Knight Owl, a black owl with silver head feathers appearing as a regal helmet, to blend in as both nocturnal and having a natural camouflage.

    Occasionally, she would use her false friends to check up on Tyler and Tazaro while they were away, whether at work tinkering on a project, taking up another guard''s night shift, or, sometimes, in Tazaro''s case, too tired to head home and sleeping on a cot in the workshop.

    Only once had she been caught sitting on the roof, and as Tazaro looked up at her with a bag of produce under his arm for the weekly dinner, he simply chuckled about something and asked: ¡°Doghouse or window?¡± Sheeva briefly didn¡¯t understand, considering she had crawled onto the roof through the window of the bedroom, but as she looked at the now obvious path from her current spot to Jax¡¯s doghouse, she realized it was a straight shot.

    ¡°Ah. Window,¡± She admitted, wondering how many times Tazaro might have used it to sneak out at night, if at all.

    At the rumor of a string of women going "suddenly missing," something that she had overheard while eavesdropping on a group of people as they crowded around a newspaper, she had decided to head up into The Northside District for a temporary detour from her usual methods.

    As Sheeva stared at the corkboard with little to offer and ignored the mass chatter of imbibing patrons behind her, she scanned the board for anything eye-catching. She had already taken down the current day¡¯s newspaper and scoured it for anything particularly alarming: strange or inexplicable murders, sudden, ¡°magical¡± happenings, or, worst-case-scenario, another unfortunate victim to the string of serial killings, though she wasn''t sure what the women had looked like. Still, it was enough for her to worry since it seemed that Llyud was somewhat preferential to his victims¨Cmost had black hair, and most were mothers or expecting mothers.

    She tore down a flyer of a missing person that bordered on familiar, though she didn¡¯t match Llyud¡¯s preference. Instead of black-haired and fair-skinned, this young lady was a brunette. Even more alarming, the name tugged at something in memory, and when she read Last seen in Raynak, Desait District Docks, Sheeva¡¯s brow furrowed in even more concern. Thankful for her meticulous note-taking, she fished in her pocket for her tattered journal, then flipped backward through its pages from her most recent journal entry.

    She stopped at an entry with a newspaper clipping glued into it, finding the date to be roughly a year after she had started traveling. Surprise at how long it seemed to have been, she gave a soft "huh!" And let her gaze wander beyond the page as she reflected on what¡­who she was at the time.

    In all honesty with herself, she was greatly inexperienced and incredibly naive to the ways of the outside world, full of the idea that people might be receptive to her inquiries, and that her journey "wouldn''t take long." She somewhat wished she still was so naive, finding herself unnecessarily critical as she wrestled with her "self-loathing"--as Mildred had pointed out¨Cand her cruel inner thoughts. The more she looked inward, the more disappointed she became.

    Unnerved, she returned her attention to the newspaper article.

    Dockside Butcher strikes again!

    By Daryl B. Payne

    Late last night, a third victim of the recently-coined ¡°Dockside Butcher¡± was found, eviscerated and hung from Desait District¡¯s drawbridge. Susan M. Garrett, Age 25, was a primary school teacher in Raynak¡¯s Wallingford Division, and leaves behind her husband, Aerich Garrett, and their two-year-old son, William Garrett. Guards urge anyone walking about after curfew to exercise extreme caution, and if any suspicious activity is noticed, we ask you to come forward and report it immediately!

    Unfortunately for the named woman in the article, she was not the same as the one whose picture she had plucked from the board, and after skipping past victims 8, 9, and 10, she finally stopped as the faces matched.

    Victim number 11, a ¡°Jane Doe,¡± stared out into the world. Sheeva sighed in mild disappointment at the poor soul who¡¯d suffered the serial killer¡¯s perfected M.O, and she only wished she had rid the world of Jaxton Durzig long before he¡¯d even claimed his third victim, the first she¡¯d heard of upon arriving in the capital city.

    Perhaps the flyer was incredibly old, and, curious to know the publishing date, Sheeva peered at the bottom-right corner of the page. The publishing date was a mere month ago. Whomever it was searching for information, they had apparently still been looking for at least four years, give or take. She tsked in pity and pocketed the paper with the promise to leave a simple note explaining what had happened to their loved one.

    Hopefully, it could give them some closure. She couldn¡¯t imagine not knowing what had happened to Rose, fearing that her imagination could carry her to dark, twisted scenarios if she didn¡¯t already live with the memory, which was bad enough.

    When the door opened and sent a few more flyers flapping in the wind, Sheeva caught sight of an even more familiar face and reached for the pristine copy of Llyud¡¯s portrait.

    True to his word, Micah had copied the painting she had given him, though something seemed off. She fished the painting she carried, and compared the two side-by-side, then snickered to herself.

    The already large and crooked nose now seemed even more comically large and crooked, and she wondered if the Captain had done so on purpose to satisfy some mischievous urge.

    I do hope your ugly mug did not break their machine, you bastard. T¡¯would be a shame for Tazaro to have to fix it, though I think he might find the circumstance funny after seeing this, She thought, pocketing the awful caricature as well. While she somewhat wished they hadn¡¯t made quite so much of a mockery, perhaps the copy would serve a better purpose of getting a good laugh someday.

    Spotting a flyer of a ¡°lost tabby cat¡± that reminded her much of Squirt, she reached up to pull it down.

    Goosed into a sudden shriek of surprise as a hand firmly grasped her butt, Sheeva whipped around to see a drunken patron with a gleeful smile, eyes glossy with alcohol as he laughed with himself and his two buddies, who laughed with him.

    ¡°Aha! Gotcha, girlie!¡± He cackled.

    Sheeva didn¡¯t waste time with words and reared back a fist. With as much force as she could, she decked him in the jaw, sending him stumbling to the side. The violent flinch his body gave caused his arm to jerk, effectively flinging his drink all over his face before he tripped on his feet and fell over.

    It was a glorious two-hit combo; Sheeva hit him, and he hit the floor.

    Of course, this drew the attention of other patrons, some turning to witness Sheeva¡¯s yell and others turning at the sound of a body thudding to the floor.

    ¡°How dare you!¡± Sheeva hissed, face burning with embarrassment and chest heated with instant fury.

    ¡°You stupid bitch! Do you know who I am?¡± The man on the ground asked. Sheeva gave him a brief second look. The man dressed sharp and snappy wasn¡¯t familiar.

    ¡°No¨CAm I supposed to?¡± She blurted, somewhat surprised with herself at her sassiness.

    Still, she stopped the two buddies scrambling to pick their friend up as he tried to get to his hands and knees.

    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it! Let this bastard crawl like the turd he is!¡± Sheeva barked, boldly getting in the taller one¡¯s face¨Cat least, as well as she could, considering she was only as tall as the patch of hair peeking out from beneath the man¡¯s shirt, unbuttoned a little more than necessary. His orange eyes widened in pure shock, then narrowed into slits before he tried to push her away.

    Sheeva snatched his hand from its shove of her shoulder, side-stepped to the left and then behind him, jerked the arm straight, and pressed into the man¡¯s extended elbow with her free hand, causing a shriek of pain to erupt from within the man¡¯s bushy, scraggly beard as his arm muscles overstretched with the hyperextension of his elbow.

    ¡°Try that again, and I¡¯ll break your arm!¡± Sheeva threatened, maneuvering the man slightly away from the one on the floor¨Cwho was still trying to get to his feet¨Cso that Mr. Big and Burly didn¡¯t trip and she accidentally broke his arm. The third man stared in befuddlement at his two partners, then at Sheeva, and slightly shook his head ¡°no¡± to signal he didn¡¯t want trouble.

    ¡°You crazy bitch, I¡¯m Don the Rooster, you can¡¯t just¨C

    ¡°Did I ask, you crawling turd?¡± Sheeva asked, barking out a laugh to brush off the insult.

    ¡°Ey! No fightin¡¯ in mah bar! Take it outside, willya?¡± The bartender called over the commotion as the patrons sitting on stools and leaning on the counters all laughed in astonishment.

    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll leave! We¡¯ll leave!¡± Goon Number Three promised.

    ¡°And you won¡¯t cause any more trouble?¡± She asked the man in the grapple, who squealed his answer as she roughly shook him.

    ¡°And you won¡¯t go harassing people, Crawling Turd?¡±

    The man slurred his compliance, still struggling to get up.

    Sheeva turned the man towards the door and shoved him towards it, satisfied with their answers and slightly relishing in the pained face Mr. Big and Burly had as he held his overstretched arm in a hand.

    She stepped aside and leered at Crawling Turd, then at Goon Number Three.

    ¡°Pick him up and take him with you. He stinks,¡± Sheeva ordered, head held high as she watched Goon Number Three reach with clammy hands for his friend¡¯s shirt, pull the man to his feet, and trip over their steps as they hurried through the door.

    Pleased with herself, it showed as Sheeva gave a cocky sneer, thinking that, had Hasch been around, he might have been impressed; usually, it was him causing all the barfights they took place in on the occasional outing to the nearby town of Urul. She was grateful that this minor altercation hadn¡¯t escalated to chairs broken across backs and tankards smashed to bits on faces.

    Aware of the silence, Sheeva looked around at herself, finding that those who had stopped to watch the scene found the items on their tables suddenly interesting as they pretended not to have noticed. One man was even pouring salt in his beer in an effort to seem nonchalant.

    ¡°My apologies, Gregg,¡± She announced, turning to the barkeep, who was in a mild pout and grumbling to himself about ¡°friggin¡¯ bar fights, swear m¡¯gonna fuckin¡¯ quit someday¡± as he focused on pouring another round of drinks for the bar wench ringing up an order. When he didn¡¯t acknowledge her apology, Sheeva tsked and ignored the matter. Had she been running the place, she probably wouldn¡¯t have appreciated an outburst, either.

    She checked her fist, finding the knuckles had split open and were bleeding. With the trace of a healing sigil on the inside of her pocket, she stuck the back of her hand to her mouth and licked her knuckles to deliver the subtle healing spell, then checked her work. It wasn¡¯t as effective as a free-hand cast, but it would do.

    She looked back at the board and realized that it wouldn¡¯t have changed much in the last five minutes. Even though she had already asked around for information, Sheeva made another round to kill time as well as to see if anything new turned up¨Cmost folks grunted in dismissal or gave her what she came to call ¡°the look,¡± a mix of shock, skepticism, amusement, or mockery. The extra round was as unyielding as the first one, though people that had seen her feat seemed to take her a little more seriously and actively thought about their answers. Not wanting to bother people any more than she already had and call her momentary loss, Sheeva stepped out of the tavern and sighed away the disappointment.

    The springtime rains were back with an unspoken promise as the sheet of rain fell so heavily that a stream ran in the gutter, carrying with it leaves, small stems, and other debris. Her eyes followed the rivulet down the way before it fell into the grate of Roussell¡¯s sewer system. She looked up as a light caught her eye, watching the flicker of the gas-lamp spark to life, then remain steady. Apparently, the network of gas-lit street lamps was a recent addition to this part of Roussell, and while other street lamps were covered with plain glass, the lamp outside The Green Lantern was aptly fitted with a gentle green-stained glass.

    Hovering beneath the awning to stay momentarily dry, Sheeva closed her eyes in focus of a full-body shield, relieved as the warmth of the spell spread from head to toe. As the phantom of a helmet covered her head, she knew the spell had fully taken form and stepped out into the rain.

    While the rain still dampened her clothes, it did not sap her body heat as the droplets seemed to roll off her ¡°armor¡±, and she pulled her hood over her head to ¡°keep her hair dry,¡± though the spell would take easy care of that. Heading off to the left and towards the next tavern on her list called ¡°The Blue,¡± she wondered if perhaps their street lamp would also be a different color than the others as an unspoken theme of the city¡¯s watering holes. She eyed a man smoking a cigarette that emitted blue, Tarrakkian Tobacco smoke beneath his large-brimmed hat, then stepped across the street towards the opposite side.

    Amid the sound of pouring rain buffeted by the thick hood of her cloak, she thought she heard the clicks of shoes on the cobblestone. As the skin of her neck crawled, she turned her head in attempt to look, but with the veil of her hood, her peripheral vision was blocked. Uneasy, she paused in the entryway of a cobbler¡¯s shop, attempting to use the angled window to peek behind herself. Unable to discern whether it was a trick of the light, a warped spot of the window, or if she was just being overly cautious, she peered at the looming shadows in the reflection, then turned sharply on her heel to face whoever lingered mere footsteps behind.

    No one was there, but she felt sure she¡¯d heard something.

    Hand on the handle of her blade, she stepped forward, looking around on the street and thinking that, perhaps, the man smoking his cigarette might have followed her, but as she peered in the direction, the face lit by an orange-glow as he ignited another cigarette was wrought in despair at whatever thoughts he was entertaining.

    Irritated at her flightiness, Sheeva decided that her brush with the three men in The Green had her on edge, and that she ought to retire for the evening lest she unleash hell on some soul that didn¡¯t deserve it. With a sharp inhale, hold, and slow sigh, she felt her shoulders release their tension, and as she shrugged off the remains of her anxiousness, she turned around to continue on her way.

    The sound of a clatter in the alleyway beside her sent shivers up her spine, and as she sucked in a nervous breath, Sheeva¡¯s eyes widened in hasty search up and down the dark alley. Echoes of a cackle tickled behind her ears, and as the hairs on her neck stood up again, she grabbed Abraxas and wrest him free of his scabbard.

    ¡°Llyud? Show yourself!¡± She barked into the darkness, still searching.

    Something waved at her in the dim light, and, taking it for the cloak of someone trying to hide, Sheeva stepped forth, ready to strike. Nearing the spot she thought she¡¯d seen the person duck away into, she raised her blade, ready to spear it through, and¨C

    Stopped, as she saw a pile of trash beneath an old umbrella leaned against the wall, fabric swaying and flapping gently in the breeze.

    She laughed at circumstance then at herself for her nerves, then shuffled Abraxas back into his scabbard.

    ¡°Fuck¡¯s sake! I should just go to bed! Huh! Spooked by trash! Get a grip!¡± She grunted, relieved that it had only been herself bearing witness to her folly, and that no one had to know she was being hyper-vigilant unless she told them¡­or Mildred read her as she tended to do.

    As she turned back to leave the alley, a fleshy, hard fist socked her across the jaw, and, while it didn¡¯t hurt thanks to her passive shield, the pressure and surprise sent her stumbling backward. She caught herself on a dumpster and tried to get her feet underway, but a pair of chubby paws gripped her shoulders and pulled her to her feet, then wrapped around her shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides.

    ¡°That¡¯s for earlier, Bitch,¡± a voice said, and as Sheeva¡¯s sight adjusted to the dimness, she saw the scowling face of Crawling Turd, with Goon Number Three at his side. Both of them blocked her exit, and as she struggled to get out of the grapple, she could only assume Mr. Big and Burly was the one holding her back.

    As he reached out and tore her hood back to bare her face, Sheeva sent him a fierce glare, though the hard expression didn¡¯t do much to mask the fear in her chest.

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!¡± Sheeva barked, struggling again to break free of her hold.

    ¡°Oh-ho! She¡¯s so feisty!¡± Crawling Turd mocked, reaching out to grasp her face, rudely slapping her cheek before clasping his hand around her mouth. Her cheeks ached as he pressed on her jawline in an effort to pry her jaw open. The web of his thumb and forefinger wrapped around her chin as his thumb and index finger squeezed on her jaw. Sheeva realized her shield had fallen as the pressure exerted triggered a stinging pain along with an involuntary reflex that forced her mouth open. As pudgy fingers prodded at her teeth in inspection, Sheeva attempted to bite, but with the painful pinch of her temporal-mandibular joint, she couldn¡¯t. ¡°The worst kind of slave, but the best kind of fighter. You¡¯ll do well in the ring! And, with all those pretty teeth to knock out? You might net us a nice little fortune!¡±

    As soon as the man released her jaw, Sheeva spat the foul, tinny taste of his prodding fingers onto his face. Naturally, the man slapped her hard across the cheek in return.

    ¡°Let me go!¡± She ordered, thrashing against her grapple once again, terrified of ending up in the ill-fated, underground dogfights. Desperate as she have might have been for money before, betting on those rumbling in the cage or even partaking in a fight, herself, was something she had promised she would never do.

    ¡°Hah! I don¡¯t think so!¡± He laughed, stepping forth once again as he looked her over. His hands dug into her pockets, retrieving the random objects there: her wallet; her pocketbook; her coin purse, which promptly disappeared into his pocket...

    As she felt the heaviness of her pocket-watch shift, her stomach churned with worry. He lifted the precious trinket from her pocket, and, thrilled to find a seemingly expensive item, he jerked it harshly. The chain snapped at its clip-on to her pants pocket, and he held it up in inspection.

    ¡°Give that back!¡± Sheeva pleaded, unwilling to part with the second, best gift she had ever gotten from Rose upon a rare trip to Maizen after Sheeva had begged to see the outside world.

    He ignored her demand and clicked it open, peering at the clock inside.

    ¡°Tut! I was thinking of keeping this for myself, but this watch doesn¡¯t even work,¡± He appraised, tilting it around in his hand. "It''s nothing more than a paperweight!"

    Spotting the clip inside, he pulled out a piece of parchment tucked inside, then ¡®tsked¡¯ in disinterest at the loving note kept in the keepsake.

    ¡°Aw, did mommy dearest get this for you?¡± He snickered, delighting in Sheeva¡¯s desperation. She didn¡¯t answer, more fearful of what he might do with it if he knew how sentimental it was.

    The piece of paper was tossed aside carelessly, and it floated to the ground and disappeared in a pile. Sheeva¡¯s face wrenched in agony, betraying her wishes to keep the pocketwatch and note¡¯s importance hidden. Noticing the look, and with a sick smile, the man held up the watch by its chain again, right in front of her face.

    ¡°You don¡¯t really want this broken thing, do you?¡± He taunted before he pitched the watch, full-force, like a baseball at the wall. Sheeva¡¯s eyes followed it in despair, and her heart broke as it shattered.

    ¡°You bastard! What gives you the right to break my things?¡± Sheeva cried, squirming to break free of Mr. Big and Burly¡¯s grasp. He only held on tighter, enough that the air became squeezed out of her. He stood to his full height and she squeaked as she felt herself lifted off the ground by about a foot.

    He only laughed at her loss.

    ¡°You won¡¯t need that where you¡¯re going, girlie. Maybe you net us a fortune, and I buy you for myself,¡± He threatened, stepping close enough to put his hands on her body, giving another firm grasp of her butt.

    The threat made Sheeva sick, and with brute force, she promptly raised her leg and kicked him in the groin. He cried out and doubled over, and Sheeva reveled in the pained expression on his face as he cradled his testicles. Fearing what he might do in a counter-strike, she struggled to recast her passive shield, concentrating the brunt of the shield densely around her head in lieu of an even-layered, full-body shield. Considering the buffer it presented from the ambush-strike from Jaxton Durzig, the offset would be worth the safety if the man she¡¯d just kicked in the balls were to try to pummel her face to a pulp.

    His red eyes seethed with fury, bug-eyed, and as he reared back a fist to strike, Sheeva made a last-ditch effort to avoid it. With a kick of her heel into Mr. Big and Burly¡¯s knee that caused it to break and make him lean forward as he screamed with pain, Sheeva grasped the man¡¯s forearms as well as she could and put all of her weight into a drop to her knee, effectively lining his face up with Crawling Turd¡¯s fist, which didn¡¯t have time to stop. As the gruesome ¡®pop¡¯ of the man¡¯s nose sounded in her ear and his hold broke, Sheeva sprung from the trap in a barreling charge.

    The top of her head bashed into Crawling Turd¡¯s chin with such force, Sheeva heard the hard clack of his teeth in her head as they smashed together. His head flung backward, then ricocheted forward like a released spring, and he screamed in pain as blood oozed from his mouth. In the dim light, Sheeva saw the pink flesh of a half-severed tongue dangling from the side of his mouth.

    Attempting to grab for her again, Mr. Big and Burly took hold of her shoulder, but as she wheeled around, grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his head, and dropped to a knee, he wailed out bloody murder as the harsh ¡®pop¡¯ of a dislocated shoulder sounded out. She grabbed the broken arm and used it as a lash to swing him into the wall, and as his face collided with it, he flopped mercilessly on a stack of wooden pallets covered by tarp.

    As Goon Number Three entered the fray, Sheeva collected a pool of energy to her hand and thrust her palm into his sternum, pulling a card from Llyud¡¯s deck as the pulse of electricity disrupted the man¡¯s diaphragm, rendering the thing useless. He gasped for air, wind knocked out of him, mind numb from pain as his stomach spasmed. Furious, she did it again, aiming for his abdomen, and with the same technique that caused his muscles to twitch and seize, he fell to his knees as his bowels evacuated themselves, then lay in the mud as he desperately sucked in for breath in a raspy croak, gaping like a fish out of water.

    When Sheeva stepped toward him in a menacing loom, Goon Number Three managed to sit up a little, shaking his head and raising an arm to shield his face as he scooted away. Sheeva stopped and ordered him to leave. He grabbed a nearby gutter pipe and pulled himself up, awkwardly shuffling his feet as he fled. Sheeva felt no remorse that Goon Number Three now had a sloppy, brown mess on the seat of his pants.

    She turned to Crawling Turd, who was still reeling with pain on the ground, reached for his collar, and threw him on his backside. She dug in his pockets for her belongings, also nabbing his coin purse, then grabbed the slim skinning knife she kept tucked in her boot. Pulling him up by the collar of his dark maroon blazer and light blue dress shirt now stained with blood, she pressed the sharp end of her blade against his throat as she glared at him.

    ¡°Rest assured, you fucking skulka: when I¡¯m done with my search, the next thing I¡¯ll do is come after you, and I will take. You. Down. You and all your damn cronies. You got that?¡± She threatened.

    He could only whimper, eyes wide in fear.

    ¡°You got that?!¡± She asked again, shaking him.

    ¡°Yeth! Yeth, I godth dthadt!¡± He wailed, tears spilling from his eyes as he begged to be let go, words slurred and messy from the damage done to his tongue.

    ¡°Good,¡± She finished, tossing him facefirst to his hands and knees in the mud.

    He scrambled out of the alleyway like a bat out of hell.

    Convinced that he wouldn¡¯t be back, Sheeva searched the area for her watch, finding it in a broken heap among a pile of wet, soggy newspapers. She picked it up tenderly, mourning its state as its face stuck out amid a network of now twisted springs and offset gears. Frantic, she looked around on the ground for the note she¡¯d previously kept tucked inside, spotting it stuck to the mud and getting soaked by rainwater.

    ¡°No,¡± she blurted breathlessly as she stooped in reach. She pulled it from the dirt and opened it, pleading that the ink inside was still good.

    It was no longer good, as the teal-colored ink now bled onto the page, watered-down and destroyed by the rainwater.

    ¡°No!¡± She squeaked, attempting to pat it dry on her clothes. It didn¡¯t help, and instead only smudged the ink on her white, flax-linen shirt, and she whimpered with despair. Pills from the pulp of the paper were now rolled up and barely clinging to the parchment.

    Angered, she instinctively clenched her fist, then regretted the action as the paper crumpled in her hand. She attempted to smooth it out, then stopped as she only made it worse. Forcing herself to quit trying to fix it for fear of completely destroying the precious piece, she folded it as gingerly as possible, then attempted to clip it back into the lid of the watch.

    The clip only served to shred it even more, and she sobbed.

    Hearing a noise behind her, she gasped and looked for the source. Mr. Big and Burly, whom she had forgotten about, lay awkwardly on the pile of pallets, neck unnaturally bent with a piece of broken wood stuck into his neck. She readied herself to defend again as he struggled to move, but slowly realized that he wouldn¡¯t be struggling for much longer as a gurgling death rattle sounded out and he lay still, eyes stuck open as the stake in his neck trickled blood. Sheeva stared in horror before instinctively reaching to help the man, then stopped as her frazzled brain reminded her that he was dead and that there was nothing she could do.

    Killing the man had not been her intent, and as she slowly realized what she¡¯d done as adrenaline faltered and reality settled in, Sheeva staggered back until her back met the wall, then slumped against the brick in exhaustion, breathing heavily and trembling as she stared at the dead man in the shadow of the streetlamp. She stared blankly at her hands and how they shook; the harbingers of death. She tried to rub Crawling Turd¡¯s blood off onto her pantleg, which wasn¡¯t much use; her hands were already stained. She fell to an awkward sit, then curled up into a ball as she tucked her head between her legs. Her face burned as she wept and balled her fists in her hair in terror.

    Even though she¡¯d exercised restraint, she had killed again.

    No, I had to do it, she tried to justify.

    How close had she been to capture and enslavement?

    I had to do it, she reasoned.

    How close had she been to being forced upon?

    I had to, she bargained.

    How close had she been to being killed?

    The tiniest of sobs had just begun to surface before a child¡¯s voice asked her if she was alright, causing Sheeva to squeak in shock, gasp, and look up from her sniveling ball. The band of children that she¡¯d met on her first day in Roussell, of all people, were staring back at her, though the dark-skinned boy was staring at the dead man less than five feet away.

    Sheeva blinked in astonishment that they were even here, then wiped the tears from her eyes and the snot threatening to drip from her nose, sniffling.

    ¡°What are you¨Cwhat are you doing here? You, you shouldn¡¯t¡­¡± She began, then looked at the dead man, then back at them. ¡°Did you see¨CShe shook her head as she hoped they hadn¡¯t, but as the boy still stared at the dead man, perhaps, they had seen everything. Still sniffling, she got to her feet and ushered the children away from the sight. ¡°No. No, you shouldn¡¯t be here. Come on, go. Get out of here,¡± She tried to shoo.

    ¡°Wait miss, our stuff is here,¡± The oldest protested.

    Sheeva stopped, blank as she struggled to collect herself.

    ¡°What? Your stuff?¡± She asked, dumbfounded.

    ¡°Yeah, ¡®our stuff!¡¯ Our food. Yelena¡¯s stuffed bearog. Nook¡¯s action figures,¡± The oldest listed, heading to shuffle past Sheeva and towards the pile of broken pallets. ¡°That guy broke my house,¡± he explained.

    Sheeva stopped him from looking on and used her cloak to shield their view of the dead man.

    ¡°Wait, wait, please.¡± She tried again, shaking her head to will it to clarity. ¡°You¡¯re¨Cyou¡¯re telling me you are living here?¡± She whispered in disbelief.

    ¡°Yes¡¯m,¡± He answered.

    Sheeva stared at them, then slowly realized that they hadn¡¯t approached her from the street as most of them seemed grouped towards the back end of the alley. Any escape they might have had earlier would have been blocked by the three men and herself. Disturbed, she looked out beyond the alleyway to see if anyone was walking by, then tucked the children beneath her cloak. Looking in the direction of the broken pallets and the dead man glistening with rain, mud, and blood, she directed her light to illuminate the spot. Tiny huddles were lined against the back wall, where she saw a pile of clothes in each, bedding, toys, and what looked like a sack of food.

    ¡°You can¡¯t¨Cum,¡± She swallowed, then forced a breath, dispelling her light before letting them out of the confines of her cloak. ¡°We need to find you someplace else,¡± She decided, not ready to face the fact that they might have seen or heard the entire, violent ordeal.

    Nyet¡­unfortunately, there is no ¡°might have,¡± Sheeva reasoned.

    ¡°Is that man dead?¡± The dark-skinned boy asked, and Sheeva jerked her head back to look at him. He didn¡¯t seem much phased, and she felt pity as she wondered if he was unfortunately accustomed to the harsh reality of death. Still, she couldn¡¯t bring herself to lie, personally irritated with the sugarcoating she¡¯d heard other parents telling their children.

    The man wasn¡¯t simply ¡°asleep,¡± as other adults might tell a child, considering his neck was unnaturally bent, he was covered in blood, and his eyes were stuck wide open.

    ¡°Yes,¡± She answered truthfully, feeling the weight of shame in her stomach, though it paled in comparison to the knowledge that the kids had indeed witnessed the ordeal. ¡°Yes, he is,¡± She repeated softly and to her own horror.

    Sucking in a breath as her skin began to crawl, Sheeva shook her head and tried again.

    ¡°Look, it¡¯s¨Cit¡¯s really not safe. We have to find you somewhere else¨Csomewhere-somewhere warm, and dry, and¡­¡± She blabbered, looking around. ¡°And warm,¡± She finished, still reeling.

    ¡°But, what about my stuffed bearog?¡± The youngest girl asked.

    ¡°I¨CI¡¯ll buy you a new one,¡± Sheeva offered. She would rather purchase, sew, or steal a new one¨Canything, to get them away from here.

    ¡°No! He¡¯s my friend! I can¡¯t leave him!¡± The girl cried.

    Sheeva looked down at the pouting and worried face, then back at the wreckage of their makeshift lodgings, hesitating. Perhaps it would be easier to gain their trust and get them to adhere to her wishes if she did ruffle through the debris in search of their things, which seemed in easy reach, save for the bags of food in the shack broken by the dead man.

    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

    With a sigh at herself for even considering touching the man she killed, Sheeva beckoned them on the opposite side of the dustbin, where they couldn¡¯t see what she was going to do.

    ¡°Stay here, and don¡¯t look. Promise?¡± She asked. All of them covered their eyes, save for the boy likely accustomed to death and the eldest boy, who assisted in shuffling the others against the wall in agreement. They both frowned and crossed their arms.

    Sheeva stepped over to the corpse, and, uttering an apology, struggled to move him out of the way¨Cmoving a deadweight body was not easy, and the fact that he was still faintly warm made her stomach churn even more as she whispered another tearful apology.

    She grabbed as much as she could of the items they requested, as well as the half-full bags of potatoes and carrots, noticing that it was the only food they seemed to have available. The stuffed teddy bear was in miserable shape, only having one button-eyeball and missing stuffing from its leg, which had been tied into a knot to keep more fluff from falling out. She tucked it under her arm, slung the bundle of clothes she¡¯d wrapped in a blanket and tied to a nearby pallet plank over her shoulder, then hurried back to the huddle.

    ¡°Here,¡± she insisted, dispersing the free items among them, unsure what all belonged to whom while handing off the bundle to the oldest boy. Stealing one last look to make sure no one would come after them, she deliberately patted the children on the back to guide them away from the alleyway and into the street.

    They wandered the streets aimlessly, Sheeva unfamiliar with the twists and turns of the Northside District. When the rains began to pour even harder, she tucked them beneath someone¡¯s porch, not caring about whose porch it was. As long as they were quiet, the owner might be none the wiser, and they could wait out the heaviest of the rain.

    Hungry as her stomach growled at her¨Cthe cost and demand of casting spells¨Cshe winced from a hunger pang, eyes closed as she tried to breathe past it. Had she brought something to snack on, or even her stash of energy tablets, the drain wouldn¡¯t be much of an issue.

    Her eyes snapped open as one of them shoved a cold vegetable in her hands, and she looked at the orange, withered and wilted carrot.

    ¡°Eat it. You¡¯re hungry, aren¡¯t you? It tastes better than potatoes, at least,¡± One of them insisted. Sheeva refused, trying to give the carrot back to the oldest girl.

    ¡°This is all you have; I can¡¯t do that. You need it more than¨C

    ¨CAw, just shut up and eat it, wouldya?¡± The oldest boy barked, stunning Sheeva into silence. She huffed, impressed with his adamance, and took a bite of the carrot. Though withered, it was still sweet, and she found herself gobbling it down in less than a minute.

    ¡°So, how did you get these? Do you have enough money to buy more for yourselves?¡± Sheeva questioned, curious to know how they¡¯d been faring over the last three weeks. The oldest admitted that he had taken up Sheeva¡¯s advice, and while he was still only sweeping doorsteps, he¡¯d slowly been learning to do other things, such as weeding gardens and folding laundry. He even had a mind to have the others join in to help so that they could pool resources in hopes of renting a room somewhere.

    ¡°Well,¡± she sighed, feeling relieved. ¡°That¡¯s a good thing.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Not a fan of potatoes, though. They¡¯re icky,¡± He stated, pausing to shuffle the bag of potatoes he carried into a better hold. ¡°Cluckatrice, too. They¡¯re slimy, and rubbery.¡±

    ¡°You think so?¡± She mumbled in half interest, slightly aware that her focus was fragmented and shoddy. She fought to entertain the current subject, and as the phrase ¡°slimy and rubbery¡± registered, it served as a tether, although unpleasant, since Sheeva knew cluckatrice wasn¡¯t supposed to taste or feel that way.

    ¡°I find they¡¯re tasty,¡± She countered in disagreement. ¡°Potatoes, too. How have you been cooking them?¡± She asked, now craving a baked potato with butter, pepper flakes, and chives, with two roasted cluckatrice breasts, which she would likely devour like a savage beast and make Jax seem like he had better manners.

    ¡°Cooking them?¡± He asked.

    With the innocence of his question, Sheeva stopped, thinking to herself before looking at his face. It was obvious that he was pondering what he might be doing wrong, and she bit her cheek to hold back her ¡®tsk¡¯ of pity as it slowly dawned on her that they hadn¡¯t been cooking their food.

    ¡°You haven¡¯t been¡­¡± She mumbled, then cleared her throat, not willing to embarrass them if it would come to that.

    She thought about her options, wondering what to do since she couldn¡¯t, in good conscience, leave them to fend for themselves, considering they were eating raw meat and hard, dirty potatoes. It reminded her of her time as a stowaway, hiding among food barrels and munching on raw potatoes.

    ¡°Mm. No¡­raw potatoes don¡¯t taste very good, that¡¯s for sure,¡± She agreed, taking a swig of water from her canteen to alleviate the reminder of starchy, dirty potato juice.

    In her still frazzled state, She tried to recall what Rose had done for her when Sheeva first arrived at the temple. Other than declaring her birthday as the day of her arrival for lack of knowledge when it actually was, Sheeva remembered being bathed in calm, warm waters, fed as much as she could stomach, clothed in better, cleaner clothes than the rags she clung to, and cradled to sleep with the lullaby she came to memorize later on.

    Come to think of it, it had been raining just like this when Sheeva arrived at the temple steps, or rather, had been carried like a sack of vegetables through a pit of darkness and swirling stars and placed at the front door like a delivery. If she thought hard enough, she could recall the softness of fur at her fingertips but slowly realized that the teddy bear Yelena put in her hands had something to do with it. She blinked and looked at the item in hand, wondering when it had been put there.

    ¡°You seem sad. Ted wants to cheer you up. He¡¯s good at that,¡± Yelena said with a smile.

    The sweetness was too much for Sheeva to handle, and she chuckled.

    ¡°Ah, well¡­thank you, uh, Ted.¡± She managed, meanwhile still thinking to herself about what to do.

    Finding them a shelter to stay in that was sturdy, warm, and dry would be the first order of business; and damn it, in spite of herself, she had killed again; and apparently, Ted¡¯s full name was ¡°Theodore the bell-hop, because he used to have a jingly bell and hops around on one leg.¡± Sheeva managed a wry chuckle at this beyond the film of shock.

    Slowly, she decided that after securing a place for them to sleep, given the circumstance, she would teach them to strike a fire and show them how to cook their food. She racked her tire-addled brain, trying to recall if she had seen such an abandoned place to put them up. As she remembered how they¡¯d crossed paths on the day they¡¯d met, she wondered if the house she had helped the family move out of was still standing or unoccupied.

    ¡°So, this might be a long-shot, but there¡¯s a family I went to help when I first met you all. The house they moved out of may be abandoned. I could take you there. It would be dry, at least. Would you be willing to give that a try? If it is not available, we will figure something else out,¡± she offered, though she didn¡¯t know what else she could possibly do.

    They looked at one another, then collectively nodded, seeming hopeful. As the rains died to a sprinkle, they stood from their perch and walked on at a more brisk pace than Sheeva had been plodding with before.

    ¡°You know, we haven¡¯t said anything about you, miss, since the day you met us.¡± The oldest commented, poking at the mud with a stick he¡¯d found along the way. ¡°And, we won¡¯t say nothing about what happened tonight, either.¡±

    Sheeva stopped, upset with the reminder.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­I am sorry you had to see that,¡± She mumbled.

    ¡°He was gonna hurt you; we heard him say it. You¡¯re not the only lady they¡¯ve snatched up or hurt. Nook and I saw them do it before.¡±

    Sheeva fought a disappointed face at the mention of their names, and felt even more disgusted with the fact that they¡¯d been subjected to such violence.

    ¡°What were you doing out there, anyway?¡±

    Sheeva wrestled with herself. She didn¡¯t want to bring them into her circle of contact any more than they already might be. It was hard enough with one family possibly being a target. Although¡­if they knew some of the facts, she might be able to get them to follow her wishes, and could keep them out of trouble.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll explain, but only after we get there. I don¡¯t want people overhearing us,¡± Sheeva half-promised.

    They stopped a couple of times more before finally making it to the house, which was more run-down than it had been before, but thankfully, unoccupied. After an initial sweep to ensure there wasn¡¯t anyone else inside, Sheeva ushered them in through the door, making sure they didn¡¯t trip on the hole just inside the entry hallway.

    To the right, a living room with a stone furnace rested, which Sheeva immediately set to building a fire with scraps of paper thrown about and the leftover bundle of wood. Wanting to amaze them, just a little bit, she traced the sigil of a flickering flame and blew a steady breath through her mouth, igniting the pile in the pit with ease, and of course, the children were amazed, staring in awe while she sat in a hazy, drained stupor for a few seconds.

    She bid them to wait there while heading up the steps in search of the mattress the family had left behind, claiming that they would buy a new one when they reached Raynak. Instead of lunking around the hefty thing, she formed another sigil, and with a brilliant, blue light, shrunk the mattress to a size that she could pick it up without much trouble. As she thought about it, perhaps she could have used the spell to shrink the dead man¡¯s body, but after practicing with dummies while trying to perfect the spell, she¡¯d learned the hard way that trying to cast a spell while upset or distracted ended up in an accidental explosion and stuffing thrown everywhere.

    She carried the mattress to the living room and expanded it, wide enough that all the children could fit on it comfortably, and, while she didn¡¯t have a heavy, warm quilt, she still had her woolen, emergency blanket. Expanding that to accommodate for all of them, she draped it over the mattress, offering an apology that she couldn¡¯t offer more.

    Wondering if the place had running water, Sheeva checked the upstairs bath. Sure, there was running water, at least, but the water was not hot. She could at least utilize the wooden stove built into the framework, and after carrying pot after pot of hot water up the steps as it came to a soft boil, she had enough for them to at least wash quickly. She cooled it down with a bit of cold water from the tap.

    While she didn¡¯t have shampoo or conditioner, she at least had a bar of soap. The girls bathed together while the boys waited, and once the girls were finished and dried with a spell that Sheeva cast on them, the boys took their turn. When Sheeva went to drain the water, her eyebrows raised at the state of it, and she wondered if she herself had shed as much dirt with the first bath she took in the temple.

    After they were bathed, Sheeva took the pot of boiling potatoes, carrots, and seasonings from the old pouch she¡¯d found in the bottom of her bag, her only set of silverware, and offered them for them to use to eat. Unlike herself, they knew how to use the spoon and fork and shared among themselves, trading after every other bite. Their compliments brought a smile to her face, even though she hadn¡¯t put much effort into making it taste ¡°so good!¡±

    Who would have possibly thought that potatoes tasted much better when cooked?

    Before she could protest again, they each introduced themselves against her will.

    The oldest of the bunch was Josef, apparently a runaway from a drunken home, and while he was supposedly fifteen, it wasn¡¯t apparent, being as shrimpy as the boy was. His favored blue cap and plaid shirt were far too large, and if she wouldn¡¯t be able to hem the fabric to a size better fitting, she made a note to bring along a seamstress¡¯s tape-measurer to properly fit him for the otherwise dashing look.

    The twins, Arc and Sophia, were thirteen, and had been indentured to servitude by their stepmother when they were eight years old for coin. After their owner had ¡°clutched at his chest and then lay still,¡± they fled to the streets rather than return home. Once they began to squabble over the blanket, it became strikingly clear that they were siblings. Arc had blue eyes and a thick, denim jacket that appeared a size too small, and Sophia had blue eyes and an old, grey dress with tattered fabric at the hem.

    The second youngest boy, Nook, was apparently twelve, and a survivor of a bandit attack that claimed the lives of his mother, father, and older sisters, which led Sheeva to understand his unfortunate acquaintance with death. He was brought to Roussell by a traveling Pacemian caravan who¡¯d found him wandering along the road in post-trauma shock. Seeming to cling to their kindness, he wore puffy black pants with a navy-blue shirt and an old pair of sandals that his toes poked out of, unwilling to part with the sentimental things. He seemed particularly interested in her sword, and Sheeva allowed him to examine it so long as he didn¡¯t cut himself on it or stab anybody.

    The youngest girl, Yelena, was ¡°five,¡± found by Josef when she was ¡°maybe two,¡± sleeping by her mother¡¯s corpse in the alley next to a brothel that Sheeva had decided to avoid searching until absolutely necessary. What a toddler was doing in such a place, Sheeva didn¡¯t want to know, but as she thought on it, she felt a chill sweep over her, fully disturbed as she realized that her mother likely worked the sinner¡¯s corridor. Perhaps, it had been a deal for sex or iphsium, the corrosive, addictive opiate made from the complex roots of Iphsodelus Caryophyllaceae.

    Yelena was roughly Sheeva¡¯s age when she first came to live with Rose, but Sheeva tried not to think too much about that, and rather, a way that she could ensure their safety from afar, so that¨Cif something should happen and Llyud came looking for them to use against her¨Cshe could be prepared and not walk into an ambush or a trap.

    ¡°Hey, listen. I¡­I need you all to do something for me. It will be for your safety, as well as mine. Can you all agree to what I am about to ask you?¡± Sheeva asked clearly, apologetic that they stopped eating with mildly frightened looks on their now clean faces.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Sophia asked, seeming worried at what the request was.

    ¡°If someone comes to that door looking for me or for any of you, do not open the door.¡± She stressed, looking at each one of them and waiting for their answer. As each of them nodded their agreement, she continued.

    ¡°Also, I¡¯d like to set up a passphrase for us to use, alright?¡± She asked, feeling the idea might have gone over Yelena¡¯s head as she frowned in question and bit the wooden spoon in her nerves.

    ¡°Uh¨Ca passphrase, like a¡­¡± Sheeva trailed off, unable to think of the word. ¡°A password, that only we know and we speak at the door. I¡¯ll be using it, too, so you will know it is me without having to open the door.¡±

    ¡°A password? You mean, like this is gonna be our secret base?¡± She asked, excited as her face lit up and she gave a missing-toothed grin. Grateful for the example, Sheeva nodded.

    ¡°Yes. Yes, exactly.¡± She agreed. ¡°But, this base is gonna have to be kept a big secret, alright?¡±

    Josef and Nook remained skeptical, and Sheeva knew she wouldn¡¯t really be able to pull the wool over their eyes quite so easily.

    ¡°Which is why¡­¡± She said slowly as she thought of a quick compromise. ¡°While I am gone, Josef will be in charge, as the oldest, and if he is gone, Nook will be in charge, and I will go over the details about that with you two later.¡± She insisted, nodding her head. To her surprise, they agreed, and she relaxed.

    She thought back to what she might have used as a passphrase when she was a kid if anything, but found nothing, not in the habit of creating secret bases. Snowforts, yes, but bases? Still, whatever they decided, she wanted it to be something that wouldn¡¯t make much sense out of context but also contained parts of Roussell so that they would be more likely to remember it.

    The only thing she seemed to focus on was the fact that Roussell had a clock tower, a nice, golden one, with a high belfry that she might like to fly up to someday for a steady bird¡¯s eye view.

    She snorted at herself.

    Bird¡¯s eye view, indeed! Considering it would only be in the dead of night, I¡¯d have to be some type of owl to be able to see anything!

    She paused and huffed at herself, feeling clever.

    ¡°Where do the Tinker Owls roost?¡± She asked them as a beginning example. They looked to one another, confused.

    ¡°I don¡¯t even know what a Tinker Owl is, Miss, and I don¡¯t think the rest of us do, either.¡± Josef voiced. Sheeva gave a small ¡°ah,¡± and then pursed her lips.

    ¡°Well, it¡¯s a type of bird that lives in the forest, but, to confuse others, we could say they roost in the clocktower, instead. And, if they do know what a Tinker Owl is, they might say ¡®forest,¡¯ and you¡¯ll know not to let them in.¡± She explained.

    ¡°So. The next time I come by and you ask me: ¡®Where do the Tinker Owls roost,¡¯ if I don¡¯t say ¡®in the belfry of the clocktower,¡¯ you cannot let me in. Do you all understand?¡± She pressed, looking intently to Josef and Nook, having designated them as the group''s leaders in her absence. ¡°And that answer goes for anyone. If something should happen to me, I will try to send word, but if they do not speak the correct phrase, you must trust that I did not send them, and flee.¡±

    ¡°What will we do if you are gone, Miss? What if they barge in through the door, anyway?¡± Josef asked.

    Sheeva hummed in thought. A veil, much like the one that guarded them at the temple, would be a perfect addition to their safety, but she sighed as she realized she hadn¡¯t the slightest of how the spell had been cast in the first place, having being fabricated long before her time. She supposed the closest she could get was the warding spell she would cast in hotel rooms to alarm her if someone else entered the room while she slept.

    As she contemplated how she might adapt the spell to allow the children to leave if need be, she thought back to what the basics of spellcasting happened to be, in her case. Anytime she cast a spell, the cost was a bit of her own energy, equally relevant to the magnitude of the spell she had cast. The harmless ball of light cost far much less energy than a breath of fire or even a healing spell, depending on the severity of the wound she was attempting to mend.

    Perhaps, there was a medium that she could use as a segue between her power and their physical presence, and as she glanced at her fileting knife, she shook her head at herself.

    While blood would be the easiest medium to use, she couldn¡¯t bring herself to do harm to them, despite how necessary it would be. Maybe, something harmless, like a strand of hair or gob of spit might suffice. Curious to test it, she called Josef and Nook into the kitchens at the left of the entryway.

    ¡°I need your help with something. Do you trust me to try a spell?¡± She asked first, and when they nodded, Sheeva felt relieved at their initiative. Unwilling to deal with wads of spit, she settled for something less disgusting. ¡°It won¡¯t hurt; I¡¯ll just need a piece of hair from your head.¡± She explained. Josef looked at Nook, who looked back, and without any further question, Nook took a single strand of his hair and handed it to her.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± She said, heading for the backdoor. She paused, then asked Nook and Josef to stand outside. Waiting while they did so with bated breath, Sheeva wiped off a clean spot on the wall from all the dust and cobwebs, trailed her warding sigil, and pressed her palm to the wall with Nook¡¯s hair in between.

    A red, circular sigil flashed, then faded.

    ¡°Good, good so far. How do you feel, Nook?¡± Sheeva asked, half expecting a shrug or so, since every time she had cast the spell for herself, there was nothing different about herself unless someone tried to pass through.

    ¡°Okay. I don¡¯t hurt or anything,¡± He answered, in a much deeper voice than Sheeva expected, leading her to believe he may have actually been older than the twins. Maybe he and Josef were the same age and just didn¡¯t know it.

    ¡°Good! Good, that¡¯s normal. Now¡­walk back through the door,¡± She guided, bracing herself for the slightly annoying buzz that tended to happen when others intruded on her space.

    When nothing happened, she looked in surprise at him, then at the sigil on the wall.

    ¡°Nothing happened,¡± She stated.

    Confused, Josef went to walk through the door, and as he passed beneath the threshold, the annoying buzz in Sheeva¡¯s brain flared, and she grunted, disturbed by the sound of bees in her ears.

    ¡°Ach, vilg!¡± She swore, waving her hand to dismiss the spell.

    The buzzing stopped, and she rubbed at her temples in irritation.

    ¡°Well, it works, that¡¯s for sure!¡± She grunted, taking a step back. She stared at the frame of the doorway, wondering how to get the hairs to stick to whatever ward she placed, not to mention, finding some way to make a long-lasting spell so that she didn¡¯t have to recast it all the time.

    A chilling thought that made Sheeva appreciate the sacrifice that who ever had cast the veil had potentially offered their life surfaced, and she shivered. Hopefully, that would not the case here, and perhaps, she could make do with something less life-threatening. She looked at her fileting knife again, and then at her thumb.

    ¡°Alright. Nook, Josef, go grab a hair from everyone. And Nook, I¡¯ll need another from you. I accidentally lost it.¡± She directed, offering them a distraction as she traced the sigil for a breath of fire, sanitizing the knife before she pricked her thumb with the tip of the blade.

    The blood that flowed was enough, and she painted the outline of the warding sigil, modified into the shape of a Zinnia Flower, mostly so that they wouldn¡¯t be frightened by an unfamiliar sigil drawn in blood, but also wishing to grant a subtle nod to their perseverance through their hardships. As they walked back around the corner and handed her the hairs she had requested, she added her own, wedged the tip of the knife into the woodwork, then attempted to shove the hairs into the knick, using the knife to assist until each strand disappeared into the pulp.

    With a deep breath and a slow exhale, Sheeva pressed her hand to the wall, and focused. She heard the ripple of a wave of energy and snapped her eyes open to look. A light-blue halo expanded from the edge of the sigil and crept up the walls and along the ceilings, and as she heard the stairs creak to her right, she realized her spell would affect the whole house, and became slightly worried for herself, forgetting to take such a thing into account.

    Before she could back out, the inside of the house was completely shielded, complete with an odd schlorp that tickled her eardrums. From the point where the last of the halo converged on itself towards the front door, a beam of light shot from the doorway and into her chest, taking her breath away.

    In her surprise and left gaspless, she felt the ripple effect take place as it coursed through her body before slowly ebbing away, then hissed as a searing pain spread across her forearm. A wound matching the modified sigil in the wall appeared on her skin, puffy and inflamed from irritation. The sap of energy quickly followed, and the pull of heat from her toes and her head left her chilled to the bone. She brought her hand to her chest as it ached, then fell to a knee, shivering and cold.

    ¡°Are you ok?¡± Josef¡¯s voice sounded, warbled and slurry. Sheeva looked up at the two of them in her crouched position, finding they spun around the room as though she¡¯d had too much to drink.

    ¡°C-cold,¡± She stuttered as her teeth clattered. Two pairs of hands helped her to her feet, urging her to the living room and helping her to sit in front of the hot coals, where she lay on the hard, warm floor as the heat spilled over her. Crowded by the faces of children, she tried to insist that she was fine, but could only slur. Her limbs became heavy as her brain melted into the wood, entire body dripping like ooze between the cracks, and her vision darkened, overtaken by shadow.

    She woke sometime later with a startled ¡°bah!¡± and a sharp intake of breath, struggling to sit up as her arms felt weak and her head ached. Her mouth soured, and as the room still spun, she likened it to a nasty hangover. As something fell down her chest, she looked, and saw the fabric of her emergency blanket now bunched over her waist.

    ¡°Good, you¡¯re awake! You sure scared us, Miss!¡± Josef greeted, quickly heading to her side to help her sit up better.

    Looking around the room, she spotted Nook sitting by the bay window across the way as he stared out the window, one of her knives in hand, while the twins huddled together on the mattress for warmth, Yelena curled between them and ¡°Ted¡± snuggled in her arms.

    Sheeva looked at the blanket draped over herself, then pulled it off, trying to get to her feet and cover the three children with it. As the room spun, she only managed to kick it off and shove it close.

    ¡°Here, give them¨Curk¨Cthis,¡± She insisted.

    ¡°You sure you don¡¯t need it anymore?¡± He asked.

    Sheeva shook her head, then regretted the action. Her body felt like it was on fire, and her clothes seemed to stick to her like a second layer of skin. Josef obliged the request, stood, and threw the blanket over the others. Sheeva looked for her bag in the meantime, her brain screaming for a painkiller, her mouth begging for a drink of water, and her body crying for an energy tablet. She grimaced as she remembered she didn¡¯t have any, then continued to look for her bag. She at least had her canteen still tucked in it.

    ¡°Where is my¨CShe stopped as she found it lying a little ways away, contents spilled onto the floor, having been rummaged through. Angered at the lack of consideration, she looked at Josef.

    ¡°Why¨C

    ¨Cwe were lookin¡¯ for medicine to help you, Miss. Thought maybe you had some,¡± He explained. ¡°You didn¡¯t, but we found some bandages. Sophia wrapped them around your arm.¡±

    Sheeva hadn¡¯t noticed anything sticking to her arm, but as she looked, she felt a spot of gratitude at the young lady¡¯s attempt, even though she had apparently used an entire roll of bandages and wrapped them far tighter than they needed to be for what had seemed a small wound. As she unwraveled the constricting bind from her arm and looked at the wound by the emberglow, she likened the wound to a carving of some kind, and winced at herself. With a trace of a sigil in the shape of a leaf and the guide of a green cloud to her arm, Sheeva sighed in relief at the sting as the wound healed itself, though not as well as she would normally be able to manage, still in need of good rest and probably a gut-splitting meal. Carefully, she wrapped the bandages back around, less tightly than they had been applied, and made a note to herself to thank and teach Sophia how to properly care for someone with basic first-aid.

    Sheeva stared into space as she thought back to the contents of her bag. Other than the necessary medi-kit, there was nothing of significant importance, most of her belongings already folded and shuffled into the dresser at the Chorea¡¯s home. In any case, she supposed it didn¡¯t matter, since the sentimental things she kept with her were directly on her person and had not been carelessly littered around the empty bag, and anything not of sentimental value was easily replaceable with a little hard work, time, and money.

    Eager to collect herself, she rubbed her eyes, then stretched, groaning softly from how good it felt on her tense muscles, stiff from sleeping on the floor. As a pop chucked an ember out of the fireplace, she snuffed it out with her foot, then looked at the pit. The fire was still warm, still burning, and still crackling, though it would be on its way out within an hour or so.

    ¡°We should get some wood for the fire¨C

    ¨CWe already found more, in the shed in the backyard. You really should sleep, you seem like you need it,¡± Josef assured. Sheeva shook her head, rubbing at her eyes again.

    ¡°N-no, I am alright, now. You and Nook should get some rest. I¡¯ll take over the watch.¡± She suggested, standing from her warm spot by the fire to sit by the bay window and peer out from it, albeit tired as hell and fighting the strong urge to go back to sleep.

    ¡°Not yet. You owe us an explanation,¡± Nook insisted, not moving from his seat by the window. The moonlights glimmered off the blade, and she hummed to herself in thought. Perhaps, she would allow him to keep the weapon, so long as she took some time to train him how to use it.

    ¡°Yes, I suppose I do, don¡¯t I,¡± She mumbled, peeking at the other three. Not wanting them to overhear if they happened to wake up, Sheeva waved her hand to beckon them to the kitchen, and as they huddled around the big, iron stove, she wondered where to begin.

    ¡°I have been looking for someone. A murderer. He is a dangerous man, a manipulative man, who has turned others against me and even kidnapped others to torture, force my hand, or hurt me, and I don¡¯t want the same to happen to anyone else. Not anymore. He can do some magic¨Cenough that he can shock others and put up traps, but other than that, I don¡¯t know what else to expect, which is why I refuse to give you my name and I insist that you use the passphrase I¡¯ve set up for you,¡± She explained fiercely, then softened. ¡°If you don¡¯t know my name, perhaps he can¡¯t use you. I just want you to be safe. I don¡¯t want to see anyone else be hurt. I don¡¯t¡­¡± She trailed off, unwilling to admit that she might not be able to handle seeing anyone else shrieking for mercy as his hands beat them to literal death or witnessing the massacre of good, kind people.

    I don¡¯t know that I can handle another failure.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Nook said with a clearing of his throat as he shifted his feet and crossed his arms. ¡°So, then, what should Josef and I do?¡±

    Sheeva looked at him, then at the sigil she had carved in her arm.

    ¡°I think, with an escape plan and with this, you won¡¯t need to take up arms, but if you like, I can show you how to use that.¡± She said, pointing at the blade in his hand. It didn¡¯t seem to be the fileting knife she hid in her boot, which was a relief.

    ¡°In any event, for the moment, it¡¯s probably best if you remain in hiding, and only leave if you must,¡± She proposed.

    ¡°But what about food?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± She paused, trying to decide where to cut the slack. With a long sigh, she supposed that she could sacrifice time spent towards assisting the Chorea family with things in order to pivot and teach the band of children to care for themselves. ¡°I can swing by to deliver supplies if you need them, but I¡¯d prefer if you stay inside at least until I¡¯ve either found Llyud or am sure that he is not in this town.¡±

    ¡°Unfortunately, after what happened earlier, I don¡¯t know that I will be able to move about freely,¡± She doubted, then shook her head. She would simply have to disguise herself better. ¡°No, never mind. I¡¯ll¨CI will see what I can do,¡± She promised.

    At a second moment of doubt, she reached into her pocket, felt Crawling Turd¡¯s coin purse, and retrieved it. It was a weighty thing, and as she peered into it, what had to be twenty or so hundred-Inue coins, shiny and golden, clinked inside. Not wanting Josef to spend it all in one place, she carried it to the counter and poured its contents out, set aside three, then checked her own purse for change. She had enough for one-hundred Inue in smaller coins, so with the even trade, she put the small change in the bag and dropped it into his hand. The rest went into the old sack she used for setting aside foraged items and into the depths of her bag, to be hidden inside the house at a later time when all the others were asleep.

    ¡°In case I¡¯m unable to, take this. There¡¯s a hundred Inue in small change, here. Get yourself some blankets. I¡¯ll come back with a measuring tape and help find you some clothes that fit better and that are in better shape, starting with shoes for you, Nook, and a better jacket for Arc. Oh, and I recommend you buy yourselves some jerky. Jerky is cured, so it¡¯s safer to eat than raw meat, and until I can teach you to cook, it will tide you over.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Josef said, taking the soft, maroon pouch from her hands. ¡°What about potatoes?¡± He asked. Sheeva gave a soft huff.

    ¡°Wash them, then boil them in water for a little while until they are soft. That will at least make them taste better, though they are safe to eat uncooked,¡± She explained, then left the old pouch of seasonings on the counter by the pot she had used. ¡°You can sprinkle some of those seasonings on it. All you need is a little bit¨Cany more, and the taste will be too overpowering. If you would like, buying apples or lemar fruit would be a good choice, too. The yellow ones are cheap this time of year,¡± Sheeva suggested, feeling that the citrus fruit with a hint of tomato would be a good, somewhat shelf-stable item for them to eat if she would not be able to return for a few days in between visits.

    She took a deep breath, feeling better about their situation, at least. They had shelter. They had warmth. They had access to water, and access to food, and better yet, stable food. They had a blanket, and money for more blankets and, if enough to spare, money for clothing, though she hoped Josef or Nook waited until she could return and take measurements as promised.

    ¡°Do you feel comfortable, now? Perhaps you should take some time to sleep,¡± She offered. ¡°I¡­¡± She began, then swallowed a brick of guilt as she realized she had not necessarily told Tyler nor Mildred about where she was heading, only that she was ¡°heading out.¡± She wondered if they were worried for her, and hoped they weren¡¯t, though it seemed that Tyler would wait up for her to return, sometimes well into the wee hours of the morning. ¡°I must be going; it will be dawn soon. There are some who are likely waiting for me,¡± she admitted.

    Nook offered to take the first watch and sat by the bay window while Josef crawled beneath the blanket with the others, seeming asleep in minutes as he finally had the chance to sleep someplace warm, safe, and comfortable.

    ¡°Alright. I¡¯ll return later this evening if I can. If not, I will return at night,¡± She promised to Nook, who nodded his acknowledgment.

    Sheeva paused inside the doorway to cast a disguising spell on herself, though unsure of how well it took, given the extended amount of time and the significant drain on her energy as the change of her irises burned and her scalp itched with the shift of black hair to blonde, unwilling to even consider brunette as she usually would. After what had happened in the alleyway, she was reluctant to utilize her old disguise.

    A blue-eyed, blonde Sheeva stepped out of the house, keeping her head down as she walked briskly through the streets towards the Chorea¡¯s house, though paused to take a breather as her legs became wobbly with weakness.

    Reflecting on all that she had told the children in an effort to help them begin taking care of themselves, Sheeva hadn¡¯t expected herself to attempt to take care of any children at all, and hoped that¨Cshould her journey take her elsewhere¨Cthey wouldn¡¯t beg and cry for her to take them with her. It would be a difficult thing to say ¡°no¡± to, she felt, even though she wanted to give them tools for a more positive outlook and turnout on life.

    Barring Llyud¡¯s capture or death, she found that the risk she was about to take for their sake might be worth it if they could have the chance of a happier, healthier adolescence.

    She laughed somewhat derisively at herself as she found the situation ironic, wondering if Rose had felt this sense of¡­awkward obligation when Sheeva first arrived at the temple¡¯s doorstep. Of all the people that could have taken her up, she briefly wondered why it had been Rose, then huffed¨Cperhaps Rose saw something of herself in Sheeva, as Sheeva had begun to see in the children.

    Is this how it was for you, Rose? Did you feel as responsible, or did you really see something of yourself in me, too?

    Recalling the brokenness of her watch and the destruction of the precious paper inside, she retrieved it from the depths of her pocket and mourned its state before pulling the still-damp paper from its clip. With a trace of a sigil and the touch of a fingertip, she dried it, though it would do no good, and as she unfolded the parchment, she saw the faintest of scribbles blotted on the page. The words previously cherished didn¡¯t exist anymore except for in memory, and beyond the veil of blurry tears, Sheeva murmured the phrase that once was:

    ¡°Wherever you go, dearie, my love is always with you.¡±

    ******

    As she shut the gate as quietly as possible, Sheeva felt she¡¯d successfully slinked back into the Chorea family¡¯s yard without alarming them. Celeste, the larger moon, and Kursu, the smaller moon, still lingered in the sky, and sun had not peeked over the horizon, but was well on its way to as the night sky brightened into a watercolor mix of blues, oranges, and reds. All she had to do now would be to sneak around to the back, jump up onto Jax¡¯s doghouse, up onto the roof, and in through the window of Tazaro¡¯s old bedroom.

    However, when Jax barked in cheer and bounded to her, Sheeva tried to shush the excited thing, then paused as Tyler walked onto the porch to stand there, cross-armed and upset with a tight-lipped-line across his cheeks, though relieved to see her return as amber eyes looked on with softness. She settled at the gate, and awkwardly scratched behind Jax¡¯s ear to alleviate her nerves. This must have been how Tazaro felt upon getting caught sneaking back home after the apparent and occasional ¡°night out with friends.¡±

    ¡°Yeh look like death,¡± Tyler commented, and whether or not he was trying to be witty, Sheeva couldn¡¯t tell, and could only blink at him in tiredness, then squinted her eyes as she realized the out-of-place thing.

    Tazaro was more the comedic one, not his stepfather.

    Sheeva felt a mix of appreciation and guilt and dropped her head in shame as her face heated from embarrassment. Too tired to fight about anything and feeling that she ought to square up and do the right thing, she approached and stood, sulking in remorse at his feet.

    ¡°I¡­I¡¯m sorry,¡± She stated, though she wasn¡¯t quite sure what for.

    ¡°Hm. Somebody gave yeh quite the shiner,¡± He pointed out, looking her over from head to toe. ¡°And¡­yeh got blood on yer clothes.¡±

    Sheeva grimaced at the reminder and looked at her hand. Though it was clean, it still appeared stained.

    ¡°It¡¯s not mine,¡± She admitted. ¡°Sir.¡± she added, wanting to be as respectful as possible in gratitude for his hospitality, if this were somehow the reason she were to be kicked out. ¡°Something¡­happened, and I¡­I couldn¡¯t come back. I couldn¡¯t risk it. I needed to make sure everyone was going to be safe,¡± she somewhat explained, managing a harsh whisper as her throat constricted with even more guilt. ¡°I truly am sorry.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t call me ¡®sir,¡± He grunted, annoyed at the fact. ¡°Haven¡¯t been ¡®sir¡¯ since¡­¡± Tyler stopped himself, took a deep breath in through his nostrils, then sighed as he uncrossed his arms and rubbed the tired and likely angry look from his face. Considering she had not returned all evening in order to keep ¡°everyone¡± safe, he couldn¡¯t fault her for worrying the hell out of him and Mildred.

    ¡°Ok. Yeh needed to keep everyone safe,¡± He repeated, wanting to ensure she¨Cand he¨Cfocused on that, feeling it was the more important factor. ¡°Can yeh tell me what happened?¡±

    Sheeva found herself unable to look him in the eye, unwilling to witness even the briefest shadow of disappointment.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know that I can, Tyler,¡± She answered. ¡°Not without self-implication,¡± She admitted. ¡°And, given the circumstances and promises I have made to keep, I cannot go to jail. My help is still needed for¡­the sake of others,¡± she answered as ambiguously as possible.

    Tyler took in another slow breath, then chuckled at himself.

    ¡°Well, wouldn¡¯t yeh know it, maybe I¡¯ve never heard of a Sheeva Jules before.¡±

    Surprised, Sheeva blinked, and caught his eye to search for truth. No malice lay there, no thrill of challenge, not even a glimmer of anger¨Cjust pure, honest, assurance. When he sighed again and sat down on the porch, he beckoned her to sit beside him. Jax waltzed up and immediately set his head in Sheeva¡¯s lap with a snort and huff, then a smile and cheerful panting as Sheeva absentmindedly played with his ears, placated.

    ¡°There¡¯ve been times when I¡¯ve defied unethical orders, and I¡¯ll always hold myself to that, even if I¡¯m not proud of what I¡¯ve done, I can be proud that I tried my best to make sure I did the right thing,¡± Tyler admitted. ¡°Yup. Always proud of that. Do the right thing, even if it¡¯s the wrong thing to do. I told Tazaro that as he grew up, and I¡¯m tellin¡¯ you now: Do the right thing, even if it¡¯s the wrong thing to do,¡± He repeated.

    Do the right thing, even if it¡¯s the wrong thing to do. Sheeva repeated silently, feeling a sense of empowerment that she hadn¡¯t felt before. She took a breath, held it, sighed, then began to tell her tale.

    ¡°I was in Northside, searching for Llyud. I was looking at the request board in a tavern; The Green Lantern. I heard about a string of killings, and I wanted to check it out and make sure it wasn¡¯t connected. It didn¡¯t seem to be; rather, to a man and two of his henchmen.¡± She paused, trying to recall whatever ridiculous name the man had spat at her, amusedly stuck on the nickname of Crawling Turd. ¡°Ron the Rooster? Dan? Whatever; it doesn¡¯t matter. The bastard grabbed my butt, so I socked him in the jaw. Stopped his buddy, threatened to break his arm,¡± She explained. Tyler chuckled and muttered a ¡°good job, hope that showed him!¡±

    ¡°They cornered me later in an alleyway, must¡¯ve lied in wait until I left. Supposedly, they run a trafficking ring and have been snatching women off the streets. They shattered my pocketwatch and threatened to put me in a dogfighting ring, or¡­or buy me¨Cas if I¡¯m some kind of prostitute,¡± Sheeva seethed in disgust and shuddered at the prospect. Though she¡¯d had some skeevy encounters, none had ever seemed as possible as they had in that moment, and she figured it due to the tight grapple she had been in. ¡°I fought, and broke free. Kicked him in the groin, smashed his teeth, nearly severed his tongue. Broke his friend¡¯s arm, threw him into the wall. Punched the other guy so hard, he shit himself.¡±

    ¡°Good! Yeh defended yerself!¡± Tyler commended.

    Sheeva frowned.

    ¡°The man whose arm I broke; when I threw him into the wall, his neck snapped and he landed on a pike of wood. He¡¯s, he¡¯s dead. I-I didn¡¯t mean to kill him. I swear, I didn¡¯t mean to. I don¡¯t want to kill people,¡± She whispered, voice small. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be a killer like Llyud,¡± She murmured, trying to will away a darkening fear.

    ¡°Yeh defended yerself, Sheeva.¡±

    Sheeva sighed, feeling defeated.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t known yeh long enough, so this might be an odd thing to say, but hear me out. Am I proud of the fact that someone died, and from what sounds to me by accident? No, of course not. But, am I proud of the fact that yeh defended yerself?¡± He asked, giving pause to ensure Sheeva was really listening.

    ¡°...Yes?¡± She chanced, unsure.

    He grinned, and clapped her on the back with a paw, causing her to grunt a small hiccup.

    ¡°Well! Yer damn right, kid!¡± He stated, groaning as he stood from his seat. Sheeva heard the pop of his knees and winced on his behalf.

    ¡°Y¡¯know, we¡¯re used to Tazaro fallin¡¯ asleep in the workshop and not comin¡¯ home, but at least we know he¡¯s safe. Considerin¡¯ yer out there doin¡¯ what yer doin¡¯, it worries us. At first, we thought yeh¡¯d had enough, and yeh left without sayin¡¯ goodbye and all that, but when we found yer stuff still tucked away in the room¡­¡± He frowned, took a deep breath, and sighed. ¡°Look, just promise me yeh¡¯ll leave a note next time of where yer goin¡¯, huh? And, if yeh do decide yeh gotta leave, at least say goodbye, especially to Mildred¨Cshe cares about yeh, yeh know. And Jax, too¨Chell, I think yeh might¡¯ve stolen my dog from me!¡±

    Sheeva looked at the battle-dog, and smiled, then reached out to scratch behind its ears, happy to give it that happy-drunk look as its leg jerked and its tails wagged and thumped on the porch deck.

    ¡°I¡¯mma go back to bed¨Cand yeh should get some sleep, yerself. And, feel free to take a bath first and grab a bite to eat. Not the ideal breakfast, but we saved yeh some meatloaf,¡± He offered, pausing in the doorway.

    ¡°Oh, and we never had this conversation,¡± He insisted before disappearing into the house.

    Sheeva sighed and beckoned Jax inside, thankful that dogs couldn¡¯t talk since he¡¯d surely yip about her winged state if he could. Once she¡¯d bathed herself and scrubbed her skin nearly raw to rid it of the ghost of licentious hands, Sheeva grabbed the plate wrapped in cloth from the icebox and snarfed half of it down on the way to the room, shut the door, finished the meal while sparing a bite for the bedside Ragora, then crawled into the bed, asleep in minutes after Jax hopped up and curled up at her feet.

 Chapter 5: The Pocket Watch

    A couple of weeks had passed since Sheeva¡¯s encounter with the men at The Green Lantern. Wishing to lay low for the time being, Sheeva hid in the house, only leaving the property shortly before dusk to nab last-minute produce at Camilla¡¯s stand, drop a twenty Inue coin in the painter¡¯s pot from her change from the shiny hundred-Inue coin¨CHey, Crawling Turd won¡¯t be needing it, she reasoned¨Cand drop off the produce at the abandoned house on Dekkir Street. Still, having already completed her search in Southgate, there weren¡¯t many shops left that she hadn¡¯t already been to, freeing up her time to teach the children the various things she had promised herself.

    While Tazaro had been over for the weekly family dinners, Sheeva had not yet relinquished her pocketwatch for him to fix, a suggestion she had received from Tyler. She wished to do so while he was at the workshop to entrust that all the pieces made their way into the shop. Particularly, she wanted to ensure he saved the strip of paper that, while no longer readable, held such sentimental value, Sheeva couldn¡¯t bear to part with it.

    She spent the free time that she had to spare during the day in not only reading the book Tazaro had suggested but also securing a sigil into the frame of the front and back doors, hoping that Tazaro wouldn¡¯t mind her intrusion or etchings into his hard efforts toward restoring the place. The sigil was linked to a copy of the sigil in her arm, which she fashioned into a rose.

    She only performed the feat while Tyler was away and Mildred was taking a midday nap, not wanting to faint and cause them alarm. The spell was still demanding, but significantly less-so, likely because she had ensured she was well-rested, well-fed, and had the confidence of knowing that she had done it before. The only thing she disliked about the event was feeling immensely creepy snooping around to collect a piece of hair from Tyler and Mildred. In Tazaro¡¯s case, the collection was a nasty, bloodletting splinter received from a two-by-four he was trying to secure to the porch roof that Sheeva offered to pick out before he could insist on doing it himself with his teeth and crudely spitting it out.

    Creepy that she would have to resort to such a thing? Yes.

    Necessary that she had to resort to such a thing? Also yes.

    Currently assisting in a spring clean of the attic, she helped carry down a box of books and thumbed through them, announcing their titles to Mildred so she could deliberate whether it would be a ¡°keep¡± or ¡°donate¡± item.

    Several books in the box were a ¡°keep,¡± which Sheeva was thankful that Mildred permitted her to read, going slightly stir-crazy with little to do during the day. After pulling one out of the box, she uncovered a thick leather book that seemed an ¡°odd one out.¡±

    ¡°Hm, this¡­doesn¡¯t have a title.¡± Sheeva voiced, turning it over in search of something. The green sash tying it closed was worn and tattered, and as she peered at the side to see if a painting had been meticulously painted on the edges of the book like some others they had found in the collection, she noticed a couple of pages had been crudely torn out while other pages had snippets of parchment stuck back in.

    ¡°Oh? What¡¯s it look like?¡± Mildred asked, surprised to find an unlabeled book.

    ¡°It is a green journal, I think. Either way, it seems old.¡± Sheeva described, untying the sash and flipping it open. Thanks to the pages torn out, it immediately opened towards the middle of the book, where a sketch of some type of machine lay.

    ¡°The Stargazer,¡± It was called. The miniature was a cylindric cone, like a giant spyglass, though apparently for ¡°viewing the night sky,¡± and as she began to unfold the thick chunk of paper in interest, she looked at all the bizarre, unfamiliar equations scribbled in their folds. As she tried to keep going, she found that she¡¯d unveiled quite the blueprint, estimating that the sheet would be as big as the couch if she didn¡¯t stop.

    ¡°We¡¯re just gonna¡­put that back,¡± She muttered to herself as she carefully folded it back into place.

    Turning to the next page, she huffed with a smile as whatever had been there was blotched out by a spilled inkwell with the trail of a cat¡¯s pawprints fleeing towards the other side of the page, and an angrily scrawled Vilg oui, Gimbals! Followed by an amusing comic in which the perpetrator was tarred, feathered, and thrown in a cluckatrice coop to be pecked at by the petrifying reptiles.

    She flipped to the next page, the top left corner stained from the previous ink spill, and interestedly looked at the new sketch. It seemed like something that would fit on a desk with buttons containing each letter of their alphabet and numbers, along with some other options she wasn¡¯t familiar with.

    ¡°A Type-Writer,¡± it was called, ¡°to replace those bastard printing presses,¡± the flavor text read.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Sheeva blurted apologetically with a soft chuckle at Tazaro¡¯s apparent hatred for the machines, and with fair reason; anytime he was requested to work on one, he always ended up with stained hands or ink marks on his face. ¡°This must be Tazaro¡¯s,¡± She announced, flipping to the front page of the book, where Property of Tazaro Lindus Chorea could be found in nice, neat lettering.

    ¡°Ah. It is,¡± Sheeva declared, closing it gently and tying the worn sash back around the frame. ¡°This seems important¨Cfull of blueprints.¡±

    ¡°That might be the same one I gave him when he went away to college,¡± Mildred mused, then tsked in disapproval. ¡°Hm, he said he¡¯d lost it. Would you return that to him? I think he might like it back,¡± Mildred asked, so sweetly that Sheeva found herself reluctant to say that he could simply pick it up during the next family dinner.

    She took a deep breath and sighed, supposing she might as well run the errand since she wanted to drop off her broken pocket watch, anyway.

    ¡°Very well. Let me put this aside, and I will head out,¡± Sheeva agreed, stacking the books in their appropriate piles.

    ¡°Take care, then, Sheeva, dearie¨Cand thank you.¡±

    Sheeva sighed away her desire to insist that Mildred simply call her by her actual name, and crossed back to the front door. She opened it and stepped out, promptly changed her hair and eye color, then proceeded on her way.

    ******

    Tazaro looked up from the plank he was stripping down to fit onto the cedar chest he¡¯d been commissioned to repair as Rin walked in, a concerned look on his face. Tazaro wiped at the sweat on his face with the back of his hand, then looked at the plank of wood that was giving his planing tools a difficult time thanks to a gnarled knot in the middle of it.

    ¡°If you heard a new swear, I apologize. This fuckin¡¯ knot wouldn¡¯t strip,¡± Tazaro explained, grabbing the scrub plane and working it across the plank in order to keep shaving it to something leveled and useful.

    ¡°Oh, um, no.¡± He shook his head, then shut the door behind him. ¡°Are you in some kind of trouble, boy?¡± Rin asked, stepping closer as he limped, the birchwood cane thudding across the floor.

    Tazaro looked up from his hunch, then stood, moved the hair out of his face, and grabbed a rag to wipe away the sawdust from his hands.

    ¡°What?¡± Tazaro chuckled, surprised by the statement. Unconcerned, he grabbed the finer plane and began to work it with the grain, further stripping the plank to reveal the soft, stainable pulp beneath.

    ¡°Tazaro, stop,¡± Rin ordered, causing Tazaro to halt as the man¡¯s voice conveyed all points of seriousness. His smile faded as Rin¡¯s concern grew and the stare hardened, evident by the crease in the knife-wound scar on his jawline that occasionally caused him to mumble. The retired sergeant stepped even closer and dropped his voice low.

    ¡°Are-you-in-trouble?¡± He repeated with such a stern frown that it put Tazaro on edge. He didn¡¯t want to be the people who happened upon that look on the battlefield. Collecting himself, Tazaro thought earnestly for a moment as he stood back up from his hunch over the counter.

    Even though the worst thing he had ever done in his life was getting busted as a teenager for tossing cluckatrice in people¡¯s windows to cause havoc, he, Micah, and Vincent had all straightened themselves out¡­save for a final graduation prank in which they lured flocks of cluckatrice into the auditorium so that people could ¡°indulge in a symphony featuring the dulcet tones of clucks, bawks, and squawks.¡± Unfortunately for one of their childhood friends, they could not say the same, and as the man delved deeper into criminal ways, it caused a painful rift that caused them to stop hanging out and associating with the man.

    ¡°I, I don¡¯t think so,¡± Tazaro denied, a small sliver of worry that somehow, somewhere, he had done something wrong and besmirched his mother and stepfather¡¯s names. He then gave a snort at himself. ¡°No, nothing,¡± He assured with complete confidence.

    Rin seemed to accept this, and then settled.

    ¡°Alright, I believe you,¡± he answered with a relieved sigh.

    ¡°Ok. Good! Now why do you ask?¡± Tazaro asked, also relieved as the tension settled.

    Rin looked back at the door to the lobby with a quizzical look.

    ¡°There¡¯s a person looking for you. Gotta be some kind of mercenary ¡®cuz she¡¯s not with us; she¡¯s not wearing the uniform. Then, I thought she was some kind of bounty-hunter, ¡®cuz she¡¯s got a sword attached to her hip and isn''t very cordial. She''s insistent on speaking with you and no one else. Seemed real nervous, too¨Cprobably a rookie, given by the fading shiner ¡®neath her eye.¡± Rin went on to explain. Tazaro thought for a moment, then began to laugh.

    ¡°I think I know who it is,¡± Tazaro stated with a smile. ¡°Also, Rin, unless you took on another apprentice in the last hour and didn¡¯t tell me, I¡¯m the only other one here, aren¡¯t I?¡±

    Rin gave a grunt.

    ¡°Hah! Only time I¡¯ll take on another apprentice is if you quit or you die, boy! I practically own you!¡±

    ¡°Funny, considering you¡¯re paying me,¡± Tazaro stated. ¡°Anyway, she¡¯s good; I¡¯ll vouch. If it¡¯s alright with you, she can come back here; I don¡¯t mind. I gotta get this done soon, anyway¨Cthat delayed shipment really set me behind.¡±

    He set to scrubbing away at the plank again, aware that the sound of Rin¡¯s cane didn¡¯t thud on the floor. He gave his boss a side-eye, finding the man still hadn¡¯t moved and now had a grin. Doing his best to ignore it, he continued, focusing on the satisfying curls as the plane stripped each layer.

    ¡°So, is she a lady friend of yours?¡± Rin teased, though this was nothing new; anytime a female customer paid particular attention to him, and even though Tazaro gave them the same dose of customer service: just enough to get them out of the workshop and on their way, they were suddenly a ¡°lady friend.¡±

    ¡°Mm, maybe,¡± Tazaro absently said, referring to the fact that they seemed to be somewhere between acquaintances and¡­better acquaintances, then pursed his lips in annoyance with himself as he realized what he¡¯d said. ¡°Wait, that¡¯s not what I¨C

    ¨COh?¡± Rin cackled. ¡°Hah! That¡¯s a new one! You ¡®don¡¯t mind¡¯ if she comes back here to watch you work, and she¡¯s ¡®maybe¡¯ a lady friend?¡± Rin¡¯s grin grew into a smirk. ¡°Should I take an early and extended lunch to leave you two alone for an hour?¡± Rin snickered.

    Tazaro scoffed, though the slight moment of hesitation he had caused the planer to skip, rendering the nice, even shave noticeably jagged.

    ¡°Come on, Rin, it¡¯s not like that,¡± He informed, though he still felt the burn on his cheeks from mild embarrassment. ¡°She¡¯s¡­probably just running an errand for my mom or something,¡± He figured.

    ¡°Alright. Well, if you say so,¡± Rin mumbled over his shoulder as he finally turned and walked back to the lobby.

    ¡°WeLl, If YoU sAy So,¡± Tazaro mocked, venting his embarrassment on the gnarly knot with a forceful grunt as the blade caught and stopped his fluid momentum. ¡°It is so, Rin,¡± He murmured to himself, taking a step back from the plank before he managed to mar it into something unusable. As his hands itched to grab the planer and try again, he crossed his arms tightly to refrain from doing so.

    Sure, the shroud of mystery was a draw, and the rare¨Cthough bittersweet¨Csmile she gave was so brightly genuine, he couldn¡¯t help but feel it tug a little at his heartstrings, but did that necessarily mean he was attracted to her?

    ¡°Pfft, no way,¡± He decided, waving his hand at the matter.

    ¡°No way¡¯ about what?¡± Sheeva asked in the doorway, seeming amused as he jumped and gave a startled ¡°bah!¡± After his heart resumed beating normally in his chest, Tazaro laughed the matter off.

    ¡°Rin¡¯s just being ridiculous,¡± He dismissed quickly. ¡°Anyway, what¡¯s up? Mom send you here? I swear, I remembered to bring a lunch this morning,¡± He joked to further alleviate the faintest of jitters in his stomach due to her amused smile.

    She shook her head and held a book out that he hadn¡¯t seen in years. Surprised, he took it and held it fondly.

    ¡°Oh, wow,¡± He muttered in awe, turning it over. The hard, leather-back sketchbook of his still looked the same and, better yet, felt the same, cover smooth and spine well-situated. He felt the smile span his face in seconds, and as he split it open to peer at his old ideas, it fell on the page of an addition to machines that would power them with steam rather than having to rely on physical man-power or natural waterflow.

    Curious to know what else he had thought of, he flipped through the book. Naturally, there were a few prankish items, his favorite being a spyglass that would gift someone the appearance of a black eye upon use, but the gears of imagination spun at mach-five as his old interests and ideas sparked.

    ¡°Wow, I haven¡¯t seen this in a long time,¡± He muttered to himself as he stared at the obvious sign of a torn out page, and he began to wonder what had been there. Turning to the next page to see if perhaps he¡¯d restarted on the next due to a scribble-mishap, the thick map for the Stargazer appeared. Whatever his theory on what lied on the torn-out page was died as his eyebrows raised at his past, highly-ambitious self.

    Slowly, he unfolded the map, chuckling at himself as he found he had to turn to the counter for assistance in fully revealing the thing.

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed. That is a much larger blueprint than I previously thought,¡± Sheeva stated, walking up to the counter to look at it closer. ¡°Was this for your schooling?¡±

    Tazaro had somehow forgotten Sheeva was there, and his face went cold and his stomach plummeted into his feet, suddenly stricken with nerves as he understood that she had already seen what Kirin had previously called a ¡°maniacal, pointless waste of his imagination.¡±

    ¡°Y-yeah, but, it¡¯s nothing,¡± He urged, highly self-conscious as he began to hastily fold it. ¡°It¡¯s just some insipid drivel,¡± He waived, using another phrase Kirin had used to describe his projects.

    ¡°Oh, careful!¡± She blurted as the page threatened to fold where it wasn¡¯t already creased, causing a wrinkle to mar the otherwise neat paper. ¡°Insipid drivel?¡± Sheeva asked with a scoff. ¡°You would really think so?¡±

    No, of course, he didn¡¯t think so, but he found he was far too embarrassed about his failure to think better of himself in order to admit so. Every once in a while, the hard work he put into self-repair failed him, and sharing his ¡°overbearing¡± creativity was one of the beasts that he hadn¡¯t quite tackled, yet.

    He tried to remember what had been on those pages before he¡¯d torn them out, and, worse yet, whether they were legitimately bad ideas or if they were merely something Kirin had told him were ¡°stupid.¡± He shook his head at himself; there had been a time when he treasured all of his creativity, even the earlier works that made him cringe. It was a show of progress to point out how much better he¡¯d gotten.

    ¡°Excuse me!¡± She barked, apparently having been waiting for an answer. The terse frown, slight pout, and sudden rudeness threw Tazaro for a loop and he stopped in his tracks, staring at her with eyes wide open. She seemed equally shocked, though with herself as she blinked and settled back with a visible attempt to reign herself in.

    ¡°My apologies. I-I still wanted to see that,¡± She began, then squinted her eyes at something. ¡°You know, for you to think something that expansive is¡­ ¡®nothing,¡¯ I¡­¡± She scoffed, seemingly at herself, then shrugged her shoulders and looked at some random item on the counter. ¡°Well, pardon me if I am out of line, but it¡¯s disappointing,¡± She seemed to admit with a shake of her head as she lacked for words.

    ¡°Your parents speak highly of you. You should respect them more by respecting yourself,¡± She insisted, seeming driven into deep thought about something as she crossed her arms and clenched her sword¡¯s handle.

    Her words stunned him, and he felt the flash of defensiveness burn on his face.

    ¡°What do you kn¨CHe stopped himself, the little voice in the back of his head screaming at him not to finish that sentence. ¡°I mean, uh¡­¡±

    She understood the implications of his unfinished sentence as though they¡¯d struck her across the cheek, and Tazaro felt terrible for implying that she didn¡¯t know what she was talking about¨Csurely, everyone had some inclination.

    The silence lingered as they stared at opposite ends of the room, Sheeva at the cedar chest that appeared to be getting refurbished and Tazaro at the half-folded Stargazer blueprint.

    ¡°You¡¯re right, Tazaro. I don¡¯t know. However, I have no right to force a lecture upon you, especially if it¡¯s something I have no experience with and is just¡­an ¡®ideal picture¡¯ of what I want to see.¡± Sheeva stated. ¡°I do apologize.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps you build that thing someday. Maybe, you¡¯ll get to see the stars and planets up close. It¡¯s quite incred¨Cwell, I imagine it¡¯s something incredible,¡± Sheeva said mysteriously, having nothing in the way of a poker face as she appeared embarrassed about something. Tazaro took it for sheepishness about having a curious nature, as he seemed to think based on the few conversations they had shared.

    Not about to open that door, Tazaro gave a half-serious ¡°Yeah, maybe.¡±

    ¡°But, hey,¡± He redirected. ¡°I owe you an apology, too. It¡¯s not, uh, fair to you to¡­assume you don¡¯t know. Or, at least, can¡¯t imagine.¡± Tazaro tried, finding he wasn¡¯t sure how best to phrase his answer. To suggest she couldn¡¯t imagine made his nerves spike, and he attempted to correct himself. ¡°Ah, well, I mean, I¡¯m sure you understand¨C

    ¨CThat¡¯s enough, Tazaro.¡± She assured with a small nod. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Tazaro found it odd that she would thank him, and in order to avoid a case of open mouth, insert foot, he bit gently on his tongue.

    She seemed at peace and pleased with something, and as he noticed the placated glow in her eyes, he blinked at their blood-orange state. Not wanting to break her peace by pointing out the indecisiveness of her eye colors, Tazaro cleared his throat and brought their attention back to perhaps why she had decided to visit him at work, if not waiting until he was home, considering his old sketchbook could have certainly been presented to him there.

    ¡°So, uh, did you come here just to drop off my sketchbook, or¡­¡± He trailed off, leaving it open for her to answer.

    The calm expression hardened as she steeled her gaze at the dovetail backsaw hanging from a peg on the wall, and Tazaro grew slightly worried. She reached into her pocket and retrieved something, and as a bright, purple pouch popped out of her pocket, the soft clink of metal followed.

    ¡°I was wondering if you might be able to fix this,¡± She explained, handing it to him.

    Tazaro took the pouch, wriggled the drawstring cinch open, and peered inside.

    ¡°Oh, damn!¡± He blurted, looking back up at her. In the brief time he¡¯d spent looking in the pouch, she had become visibly upset; almost embarrassed.

    ¡°I was really hoping it was not that bad,¡± She muttered softly.

    Tazaro grabbed the large, flat-bottomed bowl he used for collecting and holding small screws and gently poured the contents out with a shake, seeing the damage for the beast it really was.

    Not only had the glass face completely busted, but the center, crown, and third wheel were popped completely off track. By the looks of the unhinged pin for the center wheel "jewel," it wouldn''t be as easy of a fix as simply realigning the wheels, replacing the glass face, and setting the correct time. New parts were in order, and judging by the circa 1305, the watch parts were either no longer being created, or any scrap parts he might manage to scramble for would cost an obscene amount of Inue.

    ¡°So¨Cand I know I am asking a lot¨Cbut, can you fix it?¡± She asked, appearing extremely hopeful. If she was intentionally putting on a puppy-dog look¡­it was certainly working, though a small part of him told himself she wasn¡¯t putting up a farce to prod at his weakness of wanting to help.

    He hummed to himself, turning to look back at the pocket watch. He''d at least been able to determine some things, and with a little luck, the challenges he got in chiseling detailed landscapes would give him a slight advantage to the dextrous capability needed for working with such tiny parts and the likely tiny tools to match.

    Noticing the paper attached to the lid, he gently pulled it out of the clip. Whatever nice, perhaps high-quality paper it used to be was now sullied with mud, rainwater, and tinted blue from the ink inside the folded piece.

    "That stays with it, if you are able to fix it," Sheeva insisted. ¡°Please,¡± She added.

    Tazaro didn''t risk unfolding the already crinkling thing and instead turned to look at her.

    "What''s in it?" He asked, genuinely curious.

    Sheeva took a breath, and sighed.

    "The note that Rose wrote for me when she gave it to me. Something she always told me before I went to bed, or was scared, or had a nightmare: ''Wherever you go, dearie, my love will follow you."

    Tazaro nodded in understanding.

    "Oh. That''s actually really, uh, sweet. And, uh¡­"

    Why you don''t like Mom calling you dearie, I guess.

    "Uh, well¨Cif you don''t mind my saying so¨Cthat just goes to show that she loved you a lot, in my opinion." He offered to alleviate any airs of judgment.

    Sheeva chuckled softly and smiled, though bittersweet as usual.

    "She really did, in spite of everything. I have a lot to be thankful for," she admitted.

    Tazaro turned his attention back to the clock, feeling mildly awkward. He fished for his roll of tools, plucked the hexagonal screwdriver he thought might fit, and set to work in taking it apart.

    "So¡­if I find a magic crystal hiding in here, can I keep it if you promise to show me how to use it?" He asked, wanting to lighten the air. Either she didn''t hear him, or she was deliberately keeping silent, and as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, he figured it to be the latter.

    Evidently, he had struck a nerve.

    ¡°The only thing I¡¯ll promise you is to make you put such a silly thing out of your mind, Tazaro. There¡¯s no such thing as magic rocks.¡± Sheeva seemed to insist.

    "Heard.¡± Tazaro replied, though he was going to have an even harder time of ignoring it, now. ¡°There¡¯s totally no such thing as magic rocks.¡±

    She sent him a highly unamused look that was most amusing, and he turned back to the broken watch to hide his smile.

    ¡°Hate to ask you this, but how did this break? There''s scuff marks on the side of it¨Cmakes me think it was dropped on the street. Did the chain snap? That''s an easy fix, and I''ll find you one that''s a little sturdier than¨C

    ¨Ca bastard tried to kidnap me into a trafficking ring and he hurled it at the wall like a baseball," Sheeva answered, interrupting him.

    Tazaro stopped and turned back to look at her, mouth agape, stomach twisting as he digested the news.

    "Are you serious? Where did this happen?" He asked. ¡°Wait, is that how you got that black eye?¡± He thought, now actively looking at the spot. There was a pale, vomit-green discoloration left of the gnarly bruise that he had definitely noticed, but hadn''t said anything of it until just now in order to spare her the embarrassment.

    She didn''t answer, and he thought that perhaps she didn''t hear him, appearing to be locked in a thousand yard stare.

    ¡°Hey, Sheeva?" He called, not wanting to step forth in case she was locked in a memory that would induce a fight or flight response, keen to the incident from Tyler, Rin, and occasionally Micah. "Would you tell me what happened that night? I noticed you looked pretty rough at dinner a couple weeks ago.¡±

    Sheeva snapped her head up to look at him before glancing in shame at her own hands, then looked for a place to sit, spotted a nearby stool, and hopped up onto it.

    ¡°I was in Northside. I heard of a string of kidnappings. Thought it might be Llyud; he can be¡­preferential. But, it was not. I punched a man for grabbing my butt, and he and his two cronies cornered me in an alley.¡± She explained as she picked at her fingernails in discomfort.

    ¡°What did they¨CHe hesitated and looked to the door. Even though Rin was teasing him about taking an early and extended lunch, if he was still here, he didn¡¯t want the man to overhear. Luckily, the door was shut. ¡°What¡­happened?¡± He finished.

    She gave a heavy sigh followed by a stern cross of her arms.

    Tazaro winced and instinctively pressed his thighs together upon the phantom pain of receiving a kick in the groin as she told him, seemingly step-by-step, the events that unfolded. He even barked out a sudden laugh as she admitted to punching a guy so hard that he shat himself, then squirmed a little as he wondered how hard that punch had to have been. As a recall echoed through his brain of Vincent telling him how he¡¯d treated a pair of men who¡¯d ¡°had their asses handed to them,¡± Tazaro¡¯s eyebrows raised to the roof as he connected the pieces.

    ¡°Wait, this was you?¡± He blurted, causing Sheeva to go on the defensive, sitting up straight as a board as suspicion grew. Vermillion-colored eyes pierced him like a hawk.

    ¡°What do you mean: this was you?¡± She asked, eyes flitting back and forth between his as she, no doubt, worked hard to bridge the facts.

    ¡°Wait, nothing bad,¡± Tazaro assured, raising his hands in surrender and slightly in case he had to fend off a ¡°gut-busting punch.¡±

    ¡°One of my friends is a physician. Told me a story about these two guys that came in; one with ruptured testicles and who¡¯d nearly bit off his own tongue, and the other with ruptured intestines,¡± He explained quickly.

    ¡°Hm,¡± she hummed, seeming to settle back. ¡°Anything else?¡±

    ¡°Mm, no?¡± He said after a moment of thought. ¡°That¡¯s all he told me¨Cand really, he¡¯s not supposed to be telling me anyway, but, uh¡­¡± He admitted. ¡°Sometimes things get to him. He is a physician.¡± Tazaro dismissed.

    ¡°What happened to the third guy?¡± Tazaro asked, and watched as the guilt crept across her face again. At her avoidant demeanor, Tazaro could only guess what had happened, and his gut tightened in his educated guess.

    ¡°I broke his arm and threw him against the wall. On his way down, he fell onto a makeshift house formed from pallets and impaled himself with a spear of broken wood.¡±

    ¡°Oh my gods!¡± Tazaro blurted, simultaneously disgusted with his brain¡¯s imagination and amazed with the sheer chance. It was like something out of a gruesome play. ¡°That guy had some rotten luck!¡±

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°It was not my intention. I merely meant to knock him out,¡± she sighed.

    Not sure he really wanted to know, Tazaro braced himself and asked, anyway.

    ¡°What, uh¡­did you do with the body?¡± He asked, wondering if it would be traced back to her, somehow, and by default, his family. It was an unsettling thought.

    ¡°I¡­left it there. I was busy trying to usher the children previously living there out of the alleyway and somewhere safe. Unfortunately, they saw the whole thing, and I could not¡­" she trailed off momentarily, then scoffed.

    ¨Cfeh! I couldn¡¯t just leave them there to suffer the cold and eat raw potatoes and cluckatrice.¡± She admitted, appearing embarrassed again. ¡°So, I took them somewhere warm and dry, and have agreed to teach them how to care for themselves. It¡¯s¡­it did not feel right not to,¡± she said, then hummed pleasantly at something.

    ¡°Do the right thing, even if it is the wrong thing to do.¡±

    Tazaro blinked, brought out of his wrestling thought as he wondered whether or not the next step was to keep quiet or say something, although he couldn¡¯t possibly imagine saying anything at all. If anything, perhaps he would encourage her to drop an anonymous tip about the encounter if Tyler hadn''t already.

    ¡°Tyler taught you that, too?¡±

    Sheeva huffed and nodded.

    ¡°I told him about everything that happened, though I didn¡¯t tell him anything about the children. He suggested that, ah, we ¡®never had that conversation,¡± she explained. ¡°Please, uh, don¡¯t say anything. It is¡­not often I find myself among such understanding people.¡±

    He hummed, glanced at the light, green bruising of her eye, then at the shattered remains of the pocket watch, thinking to himself. To run to authorities might bring a bigger mountain mudslide down on them, so in an effort to keep the waters still, Tazaro sighed as he decided he¡¯d be better off keeping his mouth shut. Not to mention, she had admitted her actions were in self-defense. It wasn¡¯t like she¡¯d sought the man out to drive a knife in his chest or something.

    ¡°Okay," he agreed. "On the dead man¡¯s grave, I won¡¯t say anything,¡± Tazaro announced.

    ¡°I do not understand what that means,¡± Sheeva pointed out, appearing confused but hopeful.

    Tazaro chuckled to himself; the phrase he and his best friends would use wouldn¡¯t make much sense to others.

    ¡°Something Micah, Vincent, and I say when we sincerely promise something. Let¡¯s just pretend we never had this conversation.¡±

    The warm, relieved wistful smile spanned her face in an instant, and he found it captivating. He found himself wishing to ultimately see a happy smile on her smooth-cheeked face, not one with an undertone of self-conscious worry or bittersweet sadness.

    ¡°Thank you, Tazaro Chorea. I am grateful.¡±

    She really didn¡¯t need to voice her gratitude; Tazaro was still stuck on the look that broke through the guarded, hawk-eyed stare. It was pure and genuine, and far too much for him to handle. With a buzz in his chest and warmth in his cheeks, he forced his attention on the remains of the watch in the bowl.

    ¡°Yeah," he muttered, trying to collect himself. "Don¡¯t mention it. Give me some time to work on this and see what I can do. I may need to order some parts, but it should mostly still be the same watch as the one you had before,¡± he assured with a witty smile at his joke.

    "I''ll leave you to it, then," she agreed, seeing herself out the door.

    Tazaro barely overheard Rin''s booming, customer-service voice welcoming her back "at any time!" To prevent thinking too much about when exactly "any time" could be, Tazaro began dismantling the poor, broken machine in the bowl.

    ******

    A couple of days had passed since Sheeva dropped off his notebook and her watch, and as the strange lull in business dragged on, Tazaro found himself looking for things to do rather than being generally swamped with requests or repairs. The restoration of Sheeva¡¯s pocketwatch was at a standpoint; unable to find the parts he needed, Tazaro decided to put in a request to a metalworker rather than attempt smithing and shaving what would end up being a shoddy part on his own. Plus, it was a particularly warm day outside, and Tazaro didn¡¯t want to make the workshop a boiling volcano by stoking a flame in the furnace sitting in the cellar.

    The sketchbook he meticulously scribbled in rested on the shelf reserved for his bulkier, less-commonly-used tools, put there as an attempt for ¡°out-of-sight, out-of-mind,¡± but out of the growing boredom¨Cand admittedly, Sheeva¡¯s nagging, fairytale belief that he could build anything as complex as the Stargazer¨Copening the old sketchbook seemed to be looking like a better idea than twiddling his thumbs in idle time. Sure, he supposed he could carve figurines out of blocks of wood from the ¡°dud pile¡± that were not even contenders for business use, but he had dozens of miniatures around the place¡­and maybe, getting a closer look at the stars might be as rewarding as Sheeva seemed to think.

    Or rather, suggest, as he noticed her¡­particular phrasing. After pondering the apparent slip-up, he guessed she¡¯d managed to climb the Arc de Raynak, the regal, tall, centerpiece building of the capital erected as a monument to the ¡°unification of Sferra¡± before the leaders of the old world turned against Cruinia in retaliation of lies fed by usurpers. Given the fact that she seemed so comfortable on the roof of their house, Tazaro assumed that insane stunts and showy acts of parkour would be an easy feat.

    With a shrug, he shook away the possibilities and reached for the book on the shelf, set it on the counter¡­and hesitated.

    He chuckled at himself, now somewhat pleased that Sheeva had seemingly called him out on his ¡°bullshit,¡± so-to-speak, though she was right. It wasn¡¯t doing him any favors to continue to consider all his ideas as ¡°nothing,¡± as Kirin had previously insulted. After all, he liked the ideas, and they were a statement to his curiosity, his willingness to ¡°fuck around and find out,¡± and¡­and¡­Why the hell had he even let someone like that say so, let alone begin to believe it?

    ¡°Fuck you, Kirin,¡± He swore with a curl of distaste in his lips, grabbing the hard-back leather cover and opening the book. He flipped through, scanning the projects he¡¯d written about to try to decide on what to craft, though he was already leaning towards building the Stargazer, and not just because Sheeva seemed to think it would be neat.

    ¡­So he told himself.

    He unfolded the expansive paper, pleased with his past self¡¯s attention to detail as he included possible measurements, equipment, and complex mathematical equations, as well as the additional note: And a fuck-tonne of tea. Considering how big he¡¯d envisioned the machine to be, Tazaro checked over his shoulder at the space of the room behind him.

    There was no way it would fit, not unless he scaled it down by a factor of at least five, and he really didn¡¯t want to spend hours on trying to do that.

    Maybe, the loft? He wondered, looking towards the ceiling as he tried to picture the space. With the high-ceiling that stretched at least three extra feet than his current space, it seemed a decent fit.

    ¡°Rin?¡± Tazaro called, heading for the door before he could stop himself.

    Rin was busy sanding down a green-painted, ornate jewelry box, and didn¡¯t seem to hear him.

    ¡°Rin!¡± Tazaro called, a little louder as he tapped the ¡°nearly deaf,¡± (per Rin¡¯s preference), man on the shoulder. It spooked him, and he flinched, causing his elbow to jerk into the clutter of tools on the counter. As the screwdriver began to roll off the counter, both of them backed off and raised their hands to prevent them from trying to catch the falling thing; Rin had apparently driven a screwdriver into his leg upon trying to catch a falling tool in his youth, and occasionally suffered an inability to walk from it.

    ¡°What, are you trying to give me a heart attack? I already told ya I was kidding about your lady friend!¡± He joked, trying to laugh it off.

    Still, Tazaro bit his tongue. To argue now would only cause a back-and-forth that would go nowhere.

    ¡°Sure. Whatever,¡± He deadpanned, though he was secretly intrigued by the slip-ups she¡¯d had in their conversations, and really wanted to know what lie beneath the guarded exterior.

    ¡°Can I use the loft for a personal project? I need more space than the room,¡± He asked quickly, tipping his head in the direction of said room. ¡°I¡¯ll be ordering my own parts, so I won¡¯t be using any of the lumber we bought for the store. The most I might need would be the occasional small piece of wood, but I thought I could just pilfer from the duds if that¡¯s ok?¡± Tazaro bargained, feeling it would help his case not to use up all of Rin¡¯s stock.

    The offer apparently surprised his boss, and as Rin¡¯s eyebrows danced in thought, he eventually took off his cap and scratched at his balding head and short, greying beard.

    ¡°The loft? S¡¯pose so¨CI haven¡¯t been using it for anything and don¡¯t really plan to¨CWe¡¯re probably gonna be dead until the end of the month, anyway. Whatcha gonna build?¡± Rin asked.

    Though he was excited to get a start, Tazaro still felt sheepish and shrugged his shoulders.

    ¡°Mm, hopefully, a working machine,¡± Tazaro replied, heading for the stairway with his notebook tucked under his arm. ¡°But, thank you! I¡¯ll show you when I¡¯m finished with it¨Cpass or fail!¡±

    A few hours had him well into a forward lean on the counter, propped over the large sheet with a graphite pencil in his left hand and colored pencils in his right¨Cgreen for things that he¡¯d double-checked and found to be reliable, red for ¡°points of caution,¡± blue for the equations he needed, and finally, purple for any possible modifications he might want to add on at a future time¨Call kept tucked between his fingers so that he could switch out and write ideas as they popped up without having to worry about forgetting them within seconds.

    Even after Rin had left and reminded him to ¡°lock up before ya leave,¡± Tazaro remained, pouring over the ¡°final¡± blueprint, filled with zeal and anticipation.

    ******

    Roughly a week had passed, and Tazaro had a substantial framework laid out for the foundation of the machine. Mirrors he planned to align in a manner that they could reflect the image he was looking at through the lens had been ordered, a healthy stack of Lucassen Birch planks that he could easily steam and bend into place, and as many nails as he felt he might need. He turned to face the project, pleased with himself.

    The chime of the clocktower in the plaza rang out, and, while it made Tazaro jump, he realized he hadn¡¯t spent just a ¡°few hours¡± working on the project, he¡¯d spent several. He found himself surprised that Sheeva hadn¡¯t stopped by, having dropped in through the hatch with a meal a couple of days ago after he accidentally missed dinner at his mother¡¯s house. With the mental note to get himself an alarm clock, Tazaro returned his tools to the knife-roll normally meant for chefs that his mother had gifted him with upon completion of his apprenticeship, then draped the blanket over the ten-foot tall frame of the Stargazer.

    Tazaro turned the crank to shut the hatch in the roof that they would open during the rare times they had to lift something bigger than the door into the workshop, headed down the stairs, and firmly locked the door behind himself. Meandering the main streets on his way home and daydreaming of what the planets might look like upon a closer view, he lifted his head to the stars, deciding to use Celeste as a test-subject the first time he peered through the eyepiece fashioned of brass and a polished glass lens. However, both of the moons were hidden from view tonight, a rare occurrence, and he made a mental note to start keeping track of the moon cycles so that he could anticipate the best night to try.

    As he made his way to Alkurik¡¯s Shrine in the Eastern Quarters close by his home, he paused and wondered if Sheeva had read that book he¡¯d recommended, or if she¡¯d been too busy in her search. A soft flap sounded above him to his right, and as he jerked his head to the direction, he saw nothing.

    Like the first foolish person to die in a horror book, Tazaro stepped closer to the alleyway the noise had come from to investigate, and saw nothing amid the trash bins.

    Something falling from the sky caught his attention, and he looked, following the thing with orange eyes as a feather danced and pirouetted toward the ground. Not wanting it to be soiled by dirt, he snatched it from the air, then gently straightened the vane out with his fingers to lock the unzipped parts back together.

    It was pristine and white, with a silverish tip that shined in the lamplight, and far too large for a bird. Holding it up to compare against the length of his arm, he found it to be as big as, if not a little longer than his forearm.

    Fascinated considering the largest bird he had studied in class was a goose, he began to wonder how big the actual bird had to be. The largest bird ever recorded was the albatross with a wingspan of eleven feet, but¡­what one would be doing so far inland, he could only guess.

    Musings of birds aside, Tazaro found himself grateful for a teacher so dedicated to his job, the man literally hunted and fished for the poor subjects to be dissected under scrutiny, with the added bonus of teaching them how to carve and harvest the meats inside for cooking. As he began to think that such a bird could potentially be people-sized, he snorted at himself in disbelief.

    ¡°Hah, people-sized. For fuck¡¯s sake, Tazaro, that¡¯s impossible!¡± He muttered.

    Still, he held onto it and hurried on his way home, eager to get away from the eerie feeling that he was being watched, though he chalked it up to the simple fact that it was the dead of night and he¡¯d just been talking to himself.

    Hurrying up the steps to the second floor of his apartment building, Tazaro fished in his pockets for his keys, and as numb fingers pushed the key into the lock, he winced at the ache in his hands from the sudden cold.

    Winter still had time to grapple with spring, it seemed.

    The warmth of the apartment was inviting, and as he shook off his boots just inside the door, he listened as voices carried from the living room.

    "...So we''ve been looking into it for a while, and have been able to take down a few underground fight clubs," a familiar voice said.

    Tazaro looked for the owner, happy to see his two best friends sitting in the living room, Vincent Berkowitz with a book draped over his knee to hold the page, and Micah Yates in a lax slouch against the back of the couch, drink in hand.

    "Hey, how''s it going? Thought you were gonna be out all night. Swamped with projects?" The man in the green chair¨Chis favorite spot¨Cgreeted.

    "No, just the one¨Cstarted building something, for shits and giggles," Tazaro answered, refraining from saying anything about the feather he now had tucked in the sleeve of his blue overcoat. He dipped into his room briefly to drop off the curious thing, then back out into the living room, unbuttoning the overcoat and brown, leather vest over his white button-up shirt. After hanging the two items on the coat rack by the door, he stepped into the circle formed by furniture, and sat down by the fire to warm his chilled, rosy fingers.

    As Micah offered a flask filled with whatever type of alcohol, Tazaro took it and sipped, then puckered. Apparently, it was not as smooth a whiskey as usual.

    "Blegh, that''s rough stuff!" Tazaro commented, handing it back. Micah snickered and sipped for himself, made a face, then screwed the cap back on.

    "It''s some new Cruinian stuff that just shipped in. Apparently their promotions to increase greenery in the surrounding deserts have been faring well. It¡¯s not¡­bad," Micah defended, not offended when Tazaro waved off a second offer.

    "Don¡¯t blame you, Taz. It¡¯s not all that good, either," Micah muttered.

    "Anyway, we''re dead, so I started working on something, and lost track of time. If not for needing to eat something, I might have just fallen asleep in the workshop," Tazaro explained the break from the usual schedule.

    ¡°What are you working on?¡± Micah asked, curious.

    Tazaro felt the sheepishness on his face before he could fight it.

    ¡°It¡¯s noth¨Che stopped, recalling Sheeva¡¯s insistence that his creativity wasn¡¯t simply ¡°nothing.¡±

    ¡°Well, not ¡®nothing,¡¯ I guess, but, uh¡­¡± He paused, then chuckled at himself. ¡°Guess someone inspired me to tackle something.¡±

    He waved the matter off with a hand, knowing they would press for details if he gave them a second to think too much about it.

    ¡°Anyway, you''re not usually home today, Vince. Clinic give you the night off?" Tazaro asked.

    Vincent, or "Vince," as his two best friends and the rarely allowed person called him, seemed tired as hell as he nodded slowly.

    "Yeah. Spent little over a day assisting a woman in labor. It was a thirty-six hour fight, and in the end, we had to perform a c-section. Either way, it was worth it¨Cboth the mom and her baby are safe. He''s a weighty boy, too¨Calmost thirteen pounds." Vincent explained, pulling his spectacles off his face to rub at teal eyes upon the reminder of his tired state.

    Remembering his hair was still tied back, Vincent unraveled the makeshift hair tie fashioned from firmly wound medical tape and ruffled his long, straight black hair as he yawned.

    "I''ve had too much coffee trying to stay awake since last night, so I''ll probably be buzzing for another hour before it finally wears off." He mentioned, then yawned again.

    "How''ve you been, Micah? It''s been a while¨Cwhat, almost two months now? How are the machines coming along?" Tazaro asked Micah.

    Micah grunted at this, then sighed in exhaustion at something, leaning back on the couch even more.

    "They''re not. We''re busy trying to clean up things here in town. Busted up a fight club and took down a prostitution ring, thanks to an anonymous tip Tyler brought us. Couple of grimy assholes had been snatching up women from Northside and were trying to start up an illegal brothel of sorts. Heh!" He laughed at something, tipped his flask, and sipped in a toast to something. "Seems two of those bastards had a really rough night a couple weeks ago¨Ca badass lady gave them both hell! Punched one guy so hard, he apparently shit himself!"

    He cackled to himself for a moment, the cheer evident on his reddening cheeks.

    Tazaro was a little surprised to hear that Sheeva''s feat had even reached Micah, but if he were honest with himself, it was bound to somehow, considering Micah and his team helped keep things in line around the city when not busy training. He wasn''t sure if Sheeva''s identity had been accidentally revealed.

    "Oh?" He feigned ignorance. "Any idea who it might have been?"

    Micah snickered to himself.

    "My money''s on our mutual friend, Her Royal Highness." He answered, then chuckled some more. "Speaking of, you should call her that for me the next time you see her, and tell me how she takes it," he laughed.

    Tazaro shook his head immediately.

    "I''ll pass, thanks," he dismissed. ¡°I don¡¯t think I know her well enough to do that.¡±

    "I was wondering who had the capacity to do such damage. Even I was impressed, and I''ve seen some insane injuries," Vincent chimed in. "Ruptured intestines from a punch that apparently was so hard, he thought she''d shocked him, and a half-severed tongue from a head bash? You think that fits?" Vincent asked, feeling even more tired as he recalled how long of a night treating all of that had been for him.

    "Well, you know, it could be anyone," Tazaro tried to downplay and take any possible heat off of Sheeva''s back. "I mean, the girls on the farms could pack a punch¨Cyou remember Amanda, right, Micah?" Tazaro asked with a smirk, referring to the open-handed smack delivered to Micah''s cheek when he''d tried to woo said farm girl at Roussell''s Festival of Lovers one summer. At least they had been there for that and not the near-miss of the kiss Tazaro had tried to give his crush at the time, effectively planting a kiss on her nose rather than her cheek as she happened to turn and try to kiss him.

    "Ugh, really? I finally got over the phantom sting from her hand print. She bruised my cheek!" Micah groaned in playfulness, then smiled. "Ah, but I don''t regret it¨Cbest woman I''ve dated since. A shame we didn¡¯t work out. I wanted kids. She didn''t," He added as his smile faded. He took another sip, then closed it.

    "One more?" He asked, offering the flask to Tazaro, possibly in an effort to prevent drinking more of the stuff.

    Tazaro stared at it, then sucked his teeth.

    "Fuck it. Sure," he agreed, taking the thing and sipping. It still tasted like sharp, alcoholic, bottom-of-the-barrel sawdust.

    As silence passed while he was busy with his curious thoughts, Tazaro felt eyes watching him, and looked up to find Vincent staring at him, the furrow of deep contemplation as the proverbial gears turned in his best friend¡¯s head. It made him nervous, since Vincent held the uncanny ability to draw intrigue and information from the patterns of a rug, and his stomach fell into the floor. He subtly averted his gaze to the fire and attempted to casually poke at it with the iron poker.

    ¡°Still," he stressed. "I think our mutual friend has bigger fish to fry than¨C

    ¨CI appreciate that you¡¯re so noble, Tazaro, but come on, it''s obvious. Who else do we know with brunette hair and purple eyes, carries around a sword and a picture of a man she¡¯s hunting, and that can shock someone?" Micah asked.

    ¡°Allegedly,¡± Vincent added, then tsked at something. ¡°Though, if you can believe it, the man she punched definitely had a nice Lichtenburg burn seared into his abdomen.¡±

    ¡°You said they told you her hair was brunette and purple? I overheard them say black and red while I was listening in from outside the room," Vincent countered.

    ¡°You were eavesdropping, Vincent? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be a doctor?¡±

    ¡°Patients lie,¡± Vincent shrugged in defense of himself.

    Micah thought for a moment, then nodded in acceptance. People in interrogation often lied, too.

    "Man. They really must have been scared stupid, because her eyes were definitely purple when I embarrassed myself in the office. I''ll never forget that!" Micah laughed.

    Tazaro paused, not because he''d been caught trying to divert, but because of the inconsistency of Sheeva''s eye color, and now, her hair color, and the apparent ability to strike with a lightning fist.

    His thoughts began to race as he wondered even more about the anomalies in place, considering he knew the pocket watch had been broken before Sheeva delivered the assault. From what he understood from Micah¡¯s quick explanation, they had learned that the crystals needed to be either held in a hand or connected to a piece of jewelry. If there was indeed a crystal hiding in the pocketwatch, it had to be microscopic, since he¡¯d already effectively taken the thing apart and hadn¡¯t seen anything, and if he assumed the crystal popped out when it was thrown against the wall, the theories still didn¡¯t make sense.

    If the supposed thing wasn¡¯t in the pocketwatch, where was it, if she was still able to do such bizarre things? Would she have to hold such a thing in her palm to strike with a lightning-induced fist, or had she discovered something the military hadn¡¯t, and it simply had to be somewhere else on her person?

    His thoughts darkened as he began to wonder if perhaps she¡¯d been subjected to some kind of twisted experimentation, and had had a crystal sealed inside of her body somewhere during captivity in Midna¡¯s Overlook. Perhaps that was the reason for the recently bandaged forearm she tried to keep hidden beneath the sleeve of her shirt. Maybe, she¡¯d tried to dig it out in a desperate act to get rid of it.

    No evidence might mean a slip from detection, and therefore, a clean record.

    Needing distraction, Tazaro took a deep swig of the barrel-bottom liquor, then shivered and scrunched his face as the nasty stuff burned a hole into his nose.

    ¡°Ugh. This stuff really is terrible,¡± He commented, trying to offer it to Micah. Vincent reached for it, took it, sniffed, swigged, and also made a face.

    ¡°Usually you get the good stuff, Mikey, but I¡¯m gonna have to agree with Tazaro on this one. This is terrible,¡± Vincent stated with a dramatic pause. ¡°I mean, I know the Lover¡¯s Festival is coming up and you weren¡¯t enthused about going for obvious reasons, but are you sure you¡¯re doing ok?¡±

    Micah laughed, and waved his hand at the matter, then took the flask from him.

    ¡°Yeah, I swear, I¡¯m good, I¡¯m good. But, at sixty Inue a bottle, I¡¯m not gonna waste this stuff, either.¡±

    Vincent looked at Micah.

    ¡°You paid sixty Inue for that? Lady¡¯s teat!¡±

    Micah huffed.

    ¡°Believe me, I certainly regret it! It doesn¡¯t have that good, rich flavor that Tarrakkian Whiskey does.¡± He sighed. ¡°But, I wanted to show my support, so¡­¡± He trailed off his explanation, then shook his head. ¡°Anyway, I swear on the dead man¡¯s grave that I¡¯m good. I was actually thinking about going to the festival this year. Maybe, with the head chef running the kitchen in our mess hall,¡± Micah grinned.

    Vincent nodded, sitting back as he accepted the promise.

    ¡°Swear on the dead man¡¯s grave¡± was the phrase they would use to promise something, whether to secrecy, something they would do, or something they would never do again, throughout their years growing up after happening upon the corpse of a man likely mauled by a bearog. Disturbed, though wanting to do the ¡°right thing,¡± the four of them¨CMicah, his brother Perron, Vincent, and Tazaro¨Cscraped at the ground with sticks, then lay the man in the shallow grave, scooped the soil back over the man, then covered the area with rocks and boulders in an attempt to give the man a proper resting place.

    Vincent had sworn to never dose himself with another narcotic after a bout with Vicodin had him nearly overdose. Micah had promised that, if his brother ever ended up behind bars again, he would not post bail, and that his brother would have to serve his sentence. Tazaro swore that, no matter how hard Kirin tried to pull him back into a relationshit, he would not, and had essentially gone into a state of no-contact. Perron, on the other hand, used and broke the promises he made, and after his journey took him further away, they lost contact with the man.

    ¡°Oh, so, you¡¯re gonna go? Good for you. I hope that bodes well,¡± Vincent stated. ¡°Have fun! Tazaro and I will just bet on the posh Chad-bros without you,¡± He suggested. ¡°Unless you were planning on going with someone, too?¡±

    Tazaro didn¡¯t answer, distracted. With the festival around the corner in three months, Tazaro wondered if Sheeva would be around to see it, or, if she was, if she would take the time. He figured the least he could do would be to ask. While he didn¡¯t expect anything of it, perhaps an outing like that, with festival games, exquisite foods, and late-night fireworks would put a real, genuine smile on that cute, oval face.

    It budded a well of cheer in his chest, and his stomach riled with butterflies. Maybe, the evening might end with a fond, earnest kiss, and he might net the luxury of seeing a side of her most didn¡¯t get to.

    Shocked with himself as he felt a zing of allure when his brain connected that a kiss could lead to a night of passion, Tazaro directed his soft, wasted scoff of deflection towards the coals in the fireplace in an attempt to free his head of the sudden wave of imagination.

    It wouldn¡¯t do well to imagine Sheeva surprising him with a visit in the workshop late at night with a kiss that had him scrambling to shove his tools off the counter. Certainly not here, in the company of friends, nor now, since he could only consider them acquaintances at best, nor¡­yet, he somehow told himself in the realm of maybe?

    But, with all that she¡¯s told me, we¡¯re definitely not just acquaintances, and I can see that she¡¯s changed a little from when we first met. At any rate, it seems to be a good thing. So¡­to ask, or not to ask?

    It was a question that brought back the stern furrow of his brow and a cross of his arms.

    ¡°Hey, Tazaro, what are you thinking about? You seem mad about something.¡±

    Tazaro blinked, then looked up upon realizing Vincent was talking to him.

    ¡°What?¡± He blurted, then, as the question loaded, he shook his head. ¡°Oh, no. Not mad, no. I was¡­¡± He paused, trying to think of an excuse that wasn¡¯t Sheeva. ¡°I was thinking about a project,¡± He lied. Perhaps it was time to retire for what was left of the evening and try to get some sleep before his tired self grasped at straws to make an even more messed-up sense of things.

    ¡°Hm. The pocket watch for Sheeva?¡± Vincent asked.

    Tazaro eyes widened briefly, forgetting he had told Vincent he was trying to fix the thing.

    ¡°Wait, Sheeva¡¯s pocket watch is broken?¡± Micah interrupted, surprised about something. By the look on his face, Tazaro understood that pieces of a puzzle were fitting together. ¡°I overheard that guy¡¯s lackey say something about how they shouldn¡¯t have broken ¡®that woman¡¯s watch¡¯ while we were letting them stew in interrogation.¡±

    Tazaro pursed his lips, feeling stuck.

    ¡°So it was her,¡± Micah summed, sounding impressed. ¡°I knew it,¡± he grinned.

    Tazaro frowned again, concerned. If it was so easy for Micah and Vincent to figure it out, he wondered how long before others would, too.

    ¡°Hey, Micah?¡± Tazaro asked, catching his friend¡¯s attention while sitting up from his slouch against the matching ottoman for Vincent¡¯s chair. ¡°Whatever else you know, or whatever else you find out about it, uh¡­¡± Tazaro began, then sucked in an encouraging breath as he steeled himself.

    ¡°Pretend it doesn¡¯t exist,¡± He suggested. ¡°I think she¡¯s¡­been through enough.¡±

    Micah took a slow, deep breath, and sighed, his cheerfulness deflating quickly as he recalled her brief explanation of the events that occurred in Teafshire.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± He agreed, shifting to lean against the arm of the couch and prop his head on his hand. ¡°I know of some things, and I¡¯m sure there¡¯s more, but I already had a mind to not say anything; seems to me like it was a good, clean case of self-defense, regardless of the¡­casualty. Which¨Caccording to the coroner¡¯s report¨Cthat third guy¡¯s death was indeed, an accident.¡±

    ¡°You¨CTazaro began in surprise, then stopped himself.

    ¡°...know about the guy with a pike in his neck? Yeah. Though, gotta admit, I¡¯m more surprised that you know,¡± Micah muttered with a wry chuckle. ¡°Telling Tyler makes sense; he was there when she gave us the info on Llyud Halma, but it¡¯s funny that she¡¯d tell you about it, since you supposedly ¡®don¡¯t know her well enough.¡±

    Tazaro dropped his head to stare into space at the green rug in the center of the circle, fidgeting with the yarn tassels tied into the rug¡¯s edge.

    ¡°But it¡¯s not funny, because I don¡¯t.¡± He countered, though it felt as though he were trying to convince himself otherwise.

    He knew her age, or at least, her assumed age. He had a glimpse into the soft, caring side she kept carefully hidden. He had already made a plan with his mother and Tyler of what to get her for her birthday, which would be coming up in the next couple of weeks, and hoped that the parts for the pocket watch would be delivered by then so it could be included. He picked up on small things, such as the fact that she seemed to enjoy learning, and couldn¡¯t get enough of the books they had lying around the house.

    ¡°No? Not well enough to share secrets like that?¡± Vincent pointed out. ¡°Come on, man! You. Are. In. De-nial!¡± Vincent stressed. ¡°You offered to fix a pocket watch for free, and you did just say something about working on a project inspired by¨C

    ¨CI¡¯m always working on a project,¡± Tazaro interrupted, but Vincent carried on.

    ¨C¡®someone.¡¯ So, assuming it¡¯s this girl, I think you know her a little more well than you say.¡± Vincent reasoned, causing Tazaro to clamp his mouth shut in frustration.

    Vincent¡¯s eyes lit up, and he grinned.

    ¡°The festival¡¯s coming up. If you were looking for someone to go on a date with, needless to say, I¡¯ve got a suggestion for you! Besides, it makes you happy to be fixing something for her, right?¡±

    Tazaro snorted in disbelief.

    ¡°That¡¯s the same thing as you healing a patient and seeing them out the door¨CIt¡¯s purely professional.¡± He argued.

    ¡°Sure, sure. But, doing it for free? I wouldn¡¯t do that for just anyone,¡± Vincent countered. ¡°So, why not?¡±

    Tazaro felt his face heat with embarrassment, and huffed out a dismissive laugh.

    ¡°That¡¯s insane!¡± He barked, then fought to reign himself in. ¡°Look, you guys. You don¡¯t understand. I barely do. If she¡¯s not helping Mom or Tyler, she¡¯s out there almost every waking hour, hell-bent on taking this guy down, and I don¡¯t see her taking a break anytime soon to be¨CHe stumbled over his words as the butterflies returned. ¨Cuh, to be¡­Pfft, dating. And anyway, if she doesn¡¯t find the guy here, she¡¯ll be taking off to the next town to search there.¡±

    ¡°Maybe you could be the reason she takes a break,¡± Vincent suggested. ¡°What have you got to lose? At least if it doesn¡¯t work out and she does have to leave, you don¡¯t have to worry about awkward run-ins.¡±

    Annoyed, Tazaro felt the tire in his face and entire body, and, rather than entertain and further subject himself to their prodding questions or fill his head with high hopes, he rudely scoffed at the idea despite how much sense it seemed to make and stood to leave. Still, the thought that she would consider taking a break to see him went to his head, and he lingered in the doorway to the hall.

    After all, Sheeva had delivered a meal to him a couple nights ago upon missing a family dinner, even though he was sure he told them he wasn¡¯t going to be there; he was trying to finish work on a last-minute, rushed, oakwood dresser restoration job that the owner offered to pay double for if they could get it done within the timeframe. She seemed content resting for a moment while nibbling on an apple in silence, though occasionally winced at a pain as she looked at her bandaged arm¡­not that he¡¯d been paying attention while chowing down his meal.

    He had since had the brief idea of letting her tour the stars with him once he was done with the Stargazer, as a way of showing his appreciation for encouraging him to think better of himself.

    ¡°I¨CHe began, then sighed. ¡°I guess so,¡± He admitted.

    ¡°Whoa. You really mean that?¡± Micah asked in surprise.

    Tazaro huffed at himself.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± He answered, likely more surprised than Micah was. Before they could go any further with their questions, Tazaro made his way to his room, stripped, and crawled into his bed, though kept awake by rampant thoughts and boyish daydreams.

 Chapter 6: On the Dead Mans Grave

    Halfway through the second month of the spring season, Mildred requested to join Sheeva on at least one of her outings. Sheeva agreed with the negotiation that it would be on a day of her choosing, unwilling for the paths of the children she fostered and the family that boarded her to cross. It would be one less point of contact for Llyud to use to manipulate her into something. Hopefully.

    As they moseyed around in the red-brick and cobblestone-mosaic plaza after purchasing what they needed for dinner in the evening from Camilla¡¯s produce stand, Sheeva paused at the space where the amputee usually sat and painted, fidgeting with the coin she wanted to flick into the man¡¯s hat from afar. She found it made her cheerful to donate to him, and if Mildred were to ask why, Sheeva told herself she would fib as well as she could, unwilling to share her secret. Perhaps she¡¯d just seen ¡°a flock of pretty birds¡± or an ¡°adorable cat,¡± she deigned as her excuse.

    However, the hardworking man was not sitting here today, yet all his supplies and creations were. A large canvas depicting a lustrous, panoramic view of Roussell¡¯s hillsides with a couple miniature paintings, one of a fountain and the other of a gothic church framing the lower corners were propped against a crate of blank canvases. Sheeva looked around some more, spotted a sign, and stooped down to read it.

    Back in a minute, it read, though he usually took care to pack up most of his belongings before taking off, even if it was just to hop on over to try to woo Camilla. Eyeing the display, Camilla was there helping a customer, but the one-legged man was nowhere nearby.

    Her worry grew when she found the overturned pot of water he used to wash off his brushes, the puddle soaking and ruining a canvas that had been used to portray a lovely mountainside view. Sheeva quickly picked it up and shook it gently to preserve the rest of the masterpiece, set it aside, then stooped to pick up the oakwood handled, Sleipnir tail-hair brushes scattered on the ground. It appeared he left in a hurry and knocked over his things...or was dragged off and kicked them in a fury.

    She jerked her head around as she scoured the plaza for a group of guards carrying off a one-legged, screaming man. She could not imagine Brom had done anything wrong aside from accidentally losing his balance and clambering into another shopper, and even then, most would help him stand fast, smile, and pat him on the back to send him on his merry way.

    ¡°You¡¯re breathing fast. Something the matter?¡± Mildred asked.

    Sheeva jumped briefly, having forgotten Mildred was there. Sheeva reached so Mildred could resume holding on to her arm.

    ¡°Y-yes. Someone isn¡¯t here that normally would be.¡± Sheeva answered, looking towards the other stands, hoping he was somewhere else in the plaza.

    ¡°Perhaps they are just away on a break for the moment, or it is their day off,¡± Mildred suggested. It did not work, and Sheeva¡¯s state remained the same.

    As Mildred heard a wooden thunk coupled with a regular step approaching somewhere from the right, she brought it to Sheeva¡¯s attention, and a mass of relief quickly replaced Sheeva¡¯s panicked state. A wave of cheer followed, and Mildred smiled.

    ¡°You¡¯re here, Miss!¡± The man¡¯s voice called out, ecstatic.

    ¡°Brom.¡± Sheeva sighed, feeling the drop of her shoulders and lax of tense muscles in her back. ¡°I thought something had happened to you,¡± Sheeva admitted, feeling foolish for her worry. ¡°But, it is nice to see you walking. Good.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s thanks to you! You donated the most, you know! Couple that with my earnings, and I had enough to pay for my leg!¡± He barked, lifting his pant leg to show off the sleek, false limb. Sheeva dropped Mildred¡¯s grasp and crouched to examine it.

    She did not understand how the machinations worked, but it appeared that a set of rods and tightly-wound springs helped to keep the leg straight, and as he squatted, the knee bent as a real one would. A metal screw held the upper and lower leg pieces together, secured with a wooden washer and bolt. The curvature to mimic a calf was impressive, and the foot piece even had toes. And, tucked on the ankle-piece was the signature she had come to recognize as Tazaro¡¯s from her visits over the last month.

    At first, she would only visit to bring him food at his mother¡¯s behest, but as she witnessed the gradual progression of the Stargazer and his warm, cheery state as she showed up on the hatch, her visits became more frequent, but ¡°only¡± to listen to the music sounding from the manual record-player amid the sounds of tinks, plinks, and the occasional, frustrated ¡°you lump of fuck!¡± Tazaro would swear when something didn¡¯t cooperate with him that always caused her to giggle.

    ¡°My next big purchase will be a brand new pair of shoes!¡± Brom beamed proudly, a grin on his face. ¡°I think a green pair of boots will do nicely! Or maybe, I¡¯ll mix-n¡¯-match ¡®em! Aha!¡± He added with a booming, gleeful laugh.

    ¡°So this is where you go every morning, Sh¨C

    ¨CAh, yes, well-I, I needed information.¡± Sheeva cut Mildred off. She had not given her name to the people she didn¡¯t deem necessary, outside of Mildred¡¯s home and the military barracks in the southeastern part of town.

    Sheeva crossed her arms and stepped away from Mildred a couple steps, trying to collect herself before allowing Mildred to retake her arm. Using the time to allow herself to feel whatever it was without shutting herself down or dismissing her rare moments of peace or joy left her mentally exhausted. Still, it was getting easier to do as the weeks went by, and the reward far outweighed the work, finding a closeness to the others that she hadn¡¯t felt since leaving home.

    ¡°I have something for you, Miss. A token of gratitude. Custom-made small so you can carry it.¡± Brom insisted with a chuckle, forcing something into her hands wrapped in cloth. ¡°And you¡¯re holding it now, so you have no choice but to take it! Hah!¡±

    Sheeva felt her eyes widen with bashfulness and looked at it, confused. It fit easily in her hand, about a five-inch-by-five-inch, thin, light mystery item. She figured it was a tiny canvas, not something she¡¯d seen in his stock. Carefully, she unwrapped it, tucking the cloth away for later use should she need it for something.

    True enough, it was a painting on a small canvas, and she stared at the oil-painted portrait of herself. Her face held a passive expression, with a slight curl to her thin lips, orange eyes smiling at the viewer. She paused at the sudden realization that everyone that she had met while wearing a disguise would have a different view of what she looked like. Mildly unnerved with her discomfort, she pulled the fabric out of her pocket and wrapped the portrait back up.

    ¡°Thank you. I will cherish this.¡± Sheeva said meekly, relieved that the gift was something she could easily carry with her. She tucked it under her arm, trying her best to hide the pleased-with-herself grin threatening her stoic face. Brom beamed at her and stooped down to pick up the water-pot he had knocked over in his hasty departure, having to brace himself with a hand on his stool. He was not used to specific actions yet, and it would likely be a while until he was.

    Satisfied that she was calm enough, Sheeva stepped toward Mildred, took her hand, and wrapped it around her arm.

    Mildred tilted her head curiously at Sheeva¡¯s emotional state, as there was a battery of feelings exuding that left Mildred dizzy as she saw swirls of fuzzy white, light red, blue, and green. Respectively, fading panic, some embarrassment, mild confusion, and overwhelming joy, and considering the palette was primarily red and green, Mildred understood that Sheeva had likely meant to keep her generosity a secret.

    ¡°Out of the goodness of your heart, you helped that man?¡± Mildred questioned as they walked away towards the center of the plaza. More red swooped over the palette, and Mildred nodded to herself, her previous assumptions confirmed. Sheeva stopped and sighed.

    ¡°I help those who help themselves. Or otherwise cannot, for lack of knowledge and teachings. Their gratification is...¡± She felt her eyes lift in cheer. ¡°Pleasant.¡± She answered, looking around for the children. After more trial-and-errors, they learned that she could track whether or not any of the people who¡¯s components she had sealed into the spellwork had left the house through a tingle she felt in her arm. Since she had planned to bring Mildred to the plaza today, she wondered if the children had followed her instructions to stay away, still unwilling for their paths to cross.

    While she and Mildred meandered their way back to the Chorea¡¯s home, Sheeva¡¯s eyes continued to scan the streets in search of anyone resembling Llyud, confident that Tazaro was still in the workshop since she hadn¡¯t felt a tingle in her arm from the blue Morning Glory since earlier in the day.

    ¡°Thank you, Sheeva, for joining me today,¡± Mildred smiled. Sheeva huffed in amusement at the woman¡¯s sense of humor, and opened the gate as they stepped towards the front of the house. The garden in the front yard was doing quite well, the rogue tomatoes in their plot cooing like babes as they slept in the warm, midday sun.

    ¡°I do believe you were joining me, Mildred. But, you are welcome,¡± Sheeva answered.

    ¡°Would you stay for coffee?¡± She asked, seeming eager for company. Sheeva looked over her shoulder at the setting sun. She hadn¡¯t meant to spend all day at the plaza or the bookstore, and wanted to make up for the loss of time.

    ¡°Ah, well¡­¡± She faltered, thinking of an excuse.

    ¡°How about dinner? I¡¯m making Zuppa Toscana, again,¡± Mildred offered.

    The smile cracked on Sheeva¡¯s face, and her stomach growled, ever ready for the meal that she later admitted to Tazaro was ¡°delicious-as-fuck.¡± It seemed to surprise him so much, the flabbergasted, impressed look on his face was well worth it.

    ¡°Hm,¡± She chuckled. ¡°You certainly drive a hard-bargain,¡± Sheeva smiled, shrugging off Abraxas to sling it on the coat rack by the shoes.

    As she assisted in cooking the meal, Sheeva took note of every ingredient they prepared, wanting to teach the same recipe to Joseph, Arc, or Sophia, who all had seemed to take well to cooking or baking, and had found a recent joy in the art.

    ¡°May I ask you about your heritage? I¡¯m still curious as to which god or goddess has blessed you.¡± Mildred asked, washing the dark-green, vibrant kale off in the sink before handing it to Sheeva to chop, as a final, last-minute addition to the stew once the potatoes were cooked.

    After having read up on the twelve gods, Sheeva began to understand more and more that, if any of them had ¡°blessed¡± her, it had been Abraxas, the god of magic and chaos. Naming her sword after the god had purely been coincidence, considering it was a name she had heard before arriving to the temple, and had associated it with the man that carried her there like a sack of potatoes.

    ¡°There is nothing to¨C

    ¨CAs I said before, Sheeva, I am not frightened. I am simply curious.¡± Mildred insisted. She smiled reassuringly, her light marigold eyes lifting with cheer. Her short, grey-streaked, auburn hair waved around her face, and the wrinkles around her eyes curled. ¡°I may not understand the depth of hatred you have for one, or perhaps both, but I know what I see, dearie.¡±

    Two weeks ago, Sheeva would have sternly reminded Mildred to not call her ¡°dearie,¡± but today, she was too tired to fight, kept awake over the last couple of nights by nightmares. These were nothing new; like allergies with the turn of the season, Sheeva was plagued by reminders of Rose¡¯s death, given that the fateful day was coming up soon. She couldn¡¯t even consider celebrating her birthday, unsure what she might even do.

    ¡°My biological mother is Cruinian. I was born in the capital, Torde, on the coast in the northeast,¡± Sheeva explained. ¡°When I was five, she¨C

    Her hands shook and became clammy, feeling a sadness on behalf of her deceased siblings. She set the knife down on the cutting board and stepped away from the counter.

    ¨Cshe drowned my sister in our bathtub, stabbed my brother to death, and attempted to choke me to death. I¡­I took the knife she killed him with and drove it into her arm. It seemed to bring her to her senses, and she then abandoned me to an orphanage, where I stayed for three months before¡­¡± she squinted in thought as she fought to recall the man¡¯s face. She couldn¡¯t remember much, only that he was tall, thin, and had a long name: Arsenic-something, though she understood it was just a young child¡¯s brain trying to fill in the gaps of what it didn¡¯t know. ¡°Someone rescued me from all that, and brought me to Vivroa, then to the steps of Malfa Temple.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Mildred gasped, causing Sheeva to shirk back, unsure of how to take the sympathetic response¨Cshe didn¡¯t generally go about telling people of this dark side of her past. ¡°Oh, you dear, sweet child!¡± Mildred insisted, pulling her into a hug that made Sheeva freeze.

    ¡°How can a woman¨Ca mother¨Cdo that to her own children? I can¡¯t¨CI couldn¡¯t even fathom doing that to my darling Amara as an act of mercy when she was terminally ill!¡± She stated, tears in her eyes.

    Sheeva struggled to get some distance.

    ¡°Mildred, please, don¡¯t,¡± Sheeva insisted, though her voice was a mere whisper, caught in the tightness of her vocal chords as they ached with sorrow. ¡°It¡¯s¨Cthat¡¯s enough. I¡¯m-I am¡­it was almost twenty years ago. Besides, I¡­I am¡­more than that, at least. Rose taught me¨Cshowed me so. She believed in me when I couldn¡¯t do it for myself.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s how a mother should behave towards her children. I believe Rose loved you, dearie.¡±

    Sheeva frowned.

    Yes. She told me so. It was the last thing she ever said to me before she died, and I yelled at her for it, like a damn brat. Sheeva thought, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter.

    ¡°Would you tell me about Amara? I¡­thought it rude to ask before.¡±

    Mildred sighed, and Sheeva felt bad for broaching the subject as the sad expression spanned the normally cheerful woman¡¯s face.

    ¡°Alright. Amara was my ex-husband and I¡¯s firstborn daughter. She was a lovely child, always playful. I¡¯m told she looked like me and that Tazaro looks more like his father.¡± She smiled briefly before the smile faded. ¡°When she was seven and Tazaro was five, they became ill with a violent flu, and it wasn¡¯t just our children who got sick, either. This flu swept across the country like a plague. It was originally ¡®Wellington¡¯s Flu,¡¯ but after so many deaths, they called it¨Cwell, unfortunate, but they called it the ¡®Red Paralysis,¡¯--because of the reddish skin one gets with the fever associated, and after a while of being untreated¡­or if you can¡¯t get enough medicine, eventual full-body paralysis follows. When you whole body becomes paralyzed, you cannot¡­¡±

    Sheeva sighed, familiar with the fear of being shocked to suffocation.

    ¡°You cannot breathe, and you suffocate. I¡¯m sorry. That¡¯s¡­that must have been horrifying.¡±

    ¡°My ex-husband tried so hard to make it work. Long hours at work. Selling every possession he could spare for change. But, because so many children fell ill so quickly, there wasn¡¯t enough to go around. We finally managed to get our hands on some, and with so long a wait for the next delivery from Raynak, we had no choice but to split it between the two. Tazaro was lucky; he only needed a couple of doses, but Amara was older, and bigger. She needed more than we had. By the time we were able to get the next delivery in from Raynak¡­she had already reached a point of no return. Eventually, her liver shut down, followed by her kidneys, and her body could no longer sustain itself. Giving her death was the hardest decision we ever had to make, Luka and I.¡± Mildred explained, clasping her hands together and letting them hang.

    ¡°When my time comes, I do hope I¡¯ll get to see my dear, sweet Amara playing on Fidelia¡¯s Beach. It would be nice to see her running around with such energy!¡± She said with a smile. Sheeva briefly wondered what she was referring to, then remembered a snippet from the book Tazaro recommended to her.

    Fidelia¡¯s Beach was, supposedly, the place where departed souls traveled after death to be judged by Fidelia¡¯s scales, and would either be accepted or rejected depending on¡­whatever the scales weighed against.

    Though she herself didn¡¯t believe in such a thing, the idea that she might get to see Rose at the end of her days was a comforting thought.

    The timer on the countertop, fashioned in the likeness of an egg, interrupted their gloomy conversation, and Sheeva poked at the potatoes with a fork. They were not yet done as she tsked and reset the timer for ten more minutes.

    ¡°You were going to tell me about your father now, weren¡¯t you?¡± Mildred asked.

    Sheeva held back her sigh, somewhat hoping she could have gotten away from it, though she should have known by now that she had a glacier-in-a-volcano¡¯s chance of escaping any conversation with Mildred.

    ¡°Tell me, Mildred: What do you know of the legend of Ta¡¯hal?¡±

    Mildred blinked, confused about the sudden question.

    ¡°They¡¯re...celestial beings created by the god Abraxas in his attempt to overthrow the throne, aren¡¯t they?¡±

    Sheeva nodded.

    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s about all that I¡¯ve heard, as well. They were created by Abraxas, but they were also a way to pervert the other god¡¯s creations: us. Sferrans. They further propagate by making deals, and those said to have made deals amassed great power before meeting their demise.¡±

    Mildred nodded.

    ¡°That¡¯s right; yes¡­but, do they truly exist? No one has seen one for¨Cwell, hundreds of years, now.¡±

    Sheeva couldn¡¯t agree with that, given the circumstances.

    ¡°They exist. My father is one of them¨Cor at least, as my birth-mother would tell me¨Cand disappeared shortly after I was born, with no notice. Given what he is, I believe now that he was captured, but¡­she always made sure I knew what I was, and personally held me accountable for his disappearance.¡±

    ¡°If...if I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d suggest she was figurative, but with the way you appear to me, I believe she was telling the truth. I, I almost didn¡¯t believe they were real.¡± Mildred whispered in disbelief.

    ¡°Your gods exist, do they not?¡± Sheeva asked, feeling somewhat irritated, though she understood she was simply on edge, uncomfortable with the immediate future.

    A silence fell over the two, and Sheeva busied her maddening thoughts in contemplation. She wondered if, now that Mildred really knew what Sheeva was, if that was new grounds for her to be kicked out. She sat back and sighed, recalling how the family she had stayed with roughly four years ago had acted similarly.

    In Sheeva¡¯s defense, it had only been after she had bared her wings, never mind the fact it was to save their child from falling out of a tree and to their death. Still, as many times as she recounted it, she could not imagine letting herself allow the curious child to die.

    ¡°Where do you stand, now that you know?¡± Sheeva asked, ready to hear Mildred¡¯s dismissal.

    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be right here, Sheeva Jules. And I hope you would, too.¡± Mildred answered. Sheeva jerked herself straight and turned to face Mildred, eyes wide with shock.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious, dearie! Do you think I care how you were born? Or even what you look like? I¡¯m blind! You could have horns and wings and a tail for all I know! Besides, after everything that you¡¯ve done for us¨Cand apparently, random strangers¨CI am happy to associate myself with you,¡± She insisted, reaching for Sheeva¡¯s hands, which Sheeva allowed the woman to take, stunned.

    With this admittance, Mildred¡¯s head spun as a slur of emotions hit her, as though she were looking through a kaleidoscope with all the colors of the rainbow and spinning the turn cap at rapid speed.

    Mildred coddled Sheeva as she heard weeping and felt tears wet her hands.

    It had been a long while since Sheeva had wept this way¨Cbitterly, blissfully, and dreadfully¨Cbut all the while, Mildred did not shy away nor push Sheeva away, and instead, clutched the distraught woman to her chest and whispered soothing murmurs as she smoothed out Sheeva''s hair.

    ¡°But if you are determined to leave, dearie, at least stay for dinner,¡± She chuckled.

    ¡°Feh!¡± Sheeva barked as a complimentary laugh at Mildred¡¯s commentary.

    ¡°This must be where Tazaro got that smart-mouth of his." Sheeva admitted with a gentle laugh and humbled smile. The sincere statement drew out a flattered chuckle from Mildred, who pulled Sheeva close for a light peck on the forehead. Or at least, what she must have thought was Sheeva''s forehead, ending up almost kissing her nose instead if Sheeva hadn''t turned her head last minute.

    "Feel better, dearie?" Mildred asked.

    "Yes, ma''am." Sheeva sighed.

    Interrupted by the timer again, Sheeva hurried to it and shut it off, then looked at the soup in the pot. Figuring that the potatoes were done by now, she grabbed the colander of chopped kale and poured the stuff in, stirring all the while to distribute the bitter green stuff.

    ¡°I¡¯m certain this is done. If you don¡¯t mind, I am going to eat, take a nap, and then head out for a while. I need some time to¡­recharge,¡± Sheeva announced softly, the burn and swell of her eyes something she was grateful Mildred could not see. Mildred tapped the back of Sheeva¡¯s hand and nodded.

    ¡°Yes, you should. Go do that. Take all the time you wish. When you''re out and about, why don''t you visit Tazaro? Take some of that soup with you.¡± Mildred suggested with a smile.

    After helping Mildred and herself to a portion and placing the leftovers in the refrigerator, Sheeva ate her soup while she headed for the room she stayed in. With the door firmly locked, she opened the window and poked her head out to allow the fresh air to cool her heated face, then sat down at the desk to finish the rest of her food.

    Satisfied that all was calm, Sheeva shrugged off her bag and draped Abraxas over the bedpost. She drank deeply from her water pouch before untying her hair from her red ribbon and piling the treasured ribbon on the bedside table. She stripped to her underwear, unraveled her chest bindings, and crawled into the bed.

    The sheets were cool against her skin, and as she curled up with her back to the wall, she hugged the pillow she slept with. Her eyes still burned in misery, and she allowed herself to cry more, covering her mouth as well as she could as she began to laugh, highly confused with herself as to what could possibly be so funny. The budding well of thankfulness in her chest grew as she calmed, grateful to have people to confide in.

    ******

    Dusk colored the sky as the sun began to set over the buildings in the east, and Sheeva watched from the rooftop.

    She felt a massive tingling in her wrist and watched the green sigil glimmer beneath her long-sleeve shirt, signaling that either the children were entering or leaving the shoddy house. For their safety, she hoped it was the former. She hadn¡¯t felt anything in the blue sigil for the workshop since Rin¡¯s usual departure time, and she checked her pocket watch. Tazaro must have been too occupied with his project and ¡°two hours easily turned into six,¡± or he had left sometime during her deep sleep. Or, as Mildred often suggested, he''d fallen asleep on a cot stored at the workshop.

    The nap she took had not been kind to her, and Sheeva still felt sluggish, even after two cups of tea and some stretching.

    Curious to know for sure whether Tazaro was still in the workshop, she plucked clumps of moss from the shingles of the roof and piled them, placed her hand, and formed a bright, yellow bird with black markings. While she had not been able to examine the particular bird closely enough, it was one she had seen often in Roussell¡¯s outdoor arboretum and botanical gardens, something Sheeva frequented when she allowed herself the time. She hoped the bird would not seem so out-of-place.

    She tapped it on its little forehead and closed her eyes. When Sheeva opened them, she found she was staring at herself, able to register a distinct hue of color in her hair that she usually would not through her own eyes. She avoided her eyes, but not before noticing black specks dotted amid the red of her beveled-plus irises, the specks being something she could not see otherwise, nor had she cared much to; looking in her own eyes had always been something creepy to her, even without this particular spell.

    Ordering the bird to take off, she lay back on the roof as she vicariously watched the people below, smiling to herself when she could see a string of ants trailing around on a discarded piece of bread by the baker¡¯s shop. Thankfully, she did not share the bird¡¯s sense of taste, something she learned through firsthand experience when Sheeva had first begun to play with the particular spell. Still, Sheeva shuddered as she recalled the way she had gagged so hard she vomited when a spider tried to wriggle its way out of the bird¡¯s throat. Cassie had never let her live it down, among many of their other shenanigans.

    Serpents were fun to mimic, finding it neat that she could sense things by their heat signature. Targeting things through heat was something that she wanted to work with outside of this particular spell but found it intensely complicated. It was much more difficult than freezing water into ice or evaporating it into steam, and she wondered if it was out of the scope of Sferran¡¯s biological functions.

    Dogs, drooly, smelly, and happy as they were, were her third favorite simply because of their heightened sense of smell and, admittedly, their general carefree and explorative nature. She only created dogs when she had the material, safety, and the desire to be unconcerned with reality for a few precious moments.

    The workshop¡¯s hatch was open as it usually seemed to be lately, and Sheeva ordered the bird to dive into the attic through it. She immediately picked up the scent of pine, cedar, and termites and hoped she could control the hungry thing well enough to prevent feeling more of the wood-boring things buzzing around in her stomach.

    Not surprisingly, Tazaro was entranced with his project, face showing intense focus as he held a screwdriver between his teeth and attempted to secure what looked like a large mirror in place.

    She had to admit, she was impressed, considering it was a bare skeleton the last she had seen it. The machine itself had begun to take formidable shape, though as she tried to look at the blueprints, it appeared only half-finished from what she could tell through warbled, wavy lines of the bird¡¯s eyesight.

    She swooped up to the makeshift bird¡¯s nest Tazaro had made, still unaware that Sheeva had anything to do with the yellow bird that would come and go as it pleased. When Tazaro swore creatively, Sheeva chuckled to herself, deciding to add the unusual phrase to her growing repertoire.

    Tazaro looked up as the bird chirped in a way that mimicked laughter and smiled at it.

    ¡°You¡¯re late.¡± He called out, closing a panel to the machine and sliding underneath it on his scooter board to fidget with something.

    ¡°Thought you¡¯d become a cat¡¯s lunch, you little feathery fuck,¡± Tazaro grumbled endearingly, giving a scoff and a smirk.

    Tazaro finished tweaking the piece he was working on and pushed himself back out from underneath it to bask in the last of the sunlight that streamed in from the open hatch as he stared at the ceiling in contemplation of something. A blush formed on his cheeks, and he smiled at his thoughts.

    ¡°Don¡¯t suppose you can deliver a message to a, uh, cute girl for me, could you?¡± He asked with a daydreaming glint in his eye. Sheeva huffed, dismissing the statement; whoever it was, it certainly couldn¡¯t have been her.

    ¡°Pfft! What would I even say?¡± He asked himself, frowning at unspoken answers and slipping back beneath the device. ¡°If you were a cluckatrice, you¡¯d be im-peck-able?¡± He suggested, laughing at himself. ¡°Actually, that one¡¯s not too bad,¡± She heard him mutter to himself seconds later.

    Satisfied that he was alright and safe, Sheeva ordered the bird to fly back outside, barely hearing Tazaro give a sarcastic "nice talking to you, too, you feathery fuck.¡± Closing her eyes to dismiss the literal bird¡¯s-eye view, Sheeva waved away the spell.

    After watching the eventide glow die into the darkness of a starry, moonless night, she climbed back into the window of Tazaro¡¯s old bedroom. She grabbed her bag and Abraxas, and as she headed for the front door, Mildred called out to her.

    ¡°There you are, Sheeva.¡±

    Sheeva stopped, then sighed, wishing to still search in a bar she had missed the first time she¡¯d run through the Eastern Quarters.

    ¡°I have some soup heating in a pot for Tazaro; there¡¯s a container on the countertop that was going to put it into. Would you mind taking it to Tazaro for me?¡± She asked.

    Sheeva nodded, having forgotten she had somewhat agreed to do such a thing.

    ¡°Ah. Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± She agreed, figuring that the stop wouldn¡¯t take too long, especially if she were to fly. Obliging the request, she located the container, poured the now hot soup into it, screwed the cap, and stuck it in her bag next to the extra cheese rolls she kept from last night¡¯s dinner with the children, having taught them how to bake the first thing Rose had taught her to bake.

    ¡°I will be going, now, Mildred. I should be home late.¡± Sheeva dismissed herself, heading to the front yard. Instead of heading through the front gate, she snuck around to the back, unleashed her wings, and with a giant, heavy flap, took to the sky and glided above the rooftops on mid-spring thermals towards the workshop.

    Conveniently enough, the hatch was left open; Tazaro had not retired to sleep for the evening nor left for the night. She landed on the edge of the roof, then crawled towards the hatch, and froze as her hand pressed down on a button, triggering the ring of a bell from the inside.

    ******

    Tazaro looked up from the last-minute changes to some Stargazer pieces, wiped at his brow, then took a swig of water to quench his parched throat. Thirstier than he thought, he downed it. A gust of wind blew in from the hatch, bringing with it some droplets of rain. He sighed, hoping that the rains would go away soon, but likely, they wouldn¡¯t, not until the scorching airs of summer dried everything up into a hardened crust.

    He checked the clock on the wall. It was only ten. Maybe, if he could push through the next five hours, he could make some decent headway on the project by midnight. He had nearly cleaned out Rin¡¯s supply of tea in anticipation of staying up late, but the only thing it¡¯d seemed to do was make his heart race and hands shake.

    As he measured the second mirror¡¯s space for the third time, he found he needed to shave it down to fit again. Annoying as that was, at least the part he¡¯d ordered was too big rather than too small.

    The bell he¡¯d affixed to the hatch sounded, and he looked up, stomach fluttering with butterflies. She seemed embarrassed to have been caught, red-faced as she swiveled her legs to dangle over the opening before dropping down.

    ¡°Welcome back. Told you I¡¯d put a bell up there. I have a door, you know.¡± He greeted her.

    ¡°I should have known you would hold to that,¡± She answered as she slipped off her backpack, untied Abraxas from around her waist, and set them gently against the rail of the loft.

    ¡°At least I had something to warn me this time; I¡¯d be pretty upset if I broke this mirror.¡± He stated, jotting down the measurement he¡¯d just taken and setting the piece down carefully. ¡°It took forever to get here, and I don¡¯t want to have to order another one and wait.¡±

    ¡°And, uh, I¡¯m glad you stopped by. Mom, Tyler, and I got something for you¨Cfor your birthday.¡± Tazaro stood, brushed himself off, and sauntered to the workbench.

    Sheeva blinked, surprised, then fished in her pocket for her journal. Cracking it open to the calendar inside, she found that it was, indeed, her birthday.

    ¡°Oh. I completely forgot. I, I didn¡¯t realize the date today. But¨Cyou did not need to get me¨C" Sheeva began, cutting herself short when Tazaro chuckled and began to speak.

    ¨C¡¯course we did.¡± He interrupted. She closed her mouth, her modesty fighting to shine through. The unguarded smile broke on her face as she failed.

    Sheeva watched him shuffle some things around on the large counter, muttering to himself about how ¡°messy he was,¡± and fought a laugh. She stepped closer to look at the jumbled mess. Tools, pencils, and other various items she couldn¡¯t recognize were strewn about.

    ¡°How do you find anything?¡± She asked. He paused, self-conscious.

    ¡°I¡¯m not usually this chaotic. I¡¯ve just been so¡­hyper-fixed on that back there.¡± He tilted his head to acknowledge the almost-finished project. ¡°Believe it or not, I know where most things are here. Why or how, I couldn¡¯t begin to tell you, but I do¨Cand don¡¯t move anything because then I won¡¯t know where anything is.¡± He rambled in his awkward state. As he realized it wasn¡¯t making him sound any less disorganized, he dropped his head, lips pursed in annoyance.

    ¡°Besides, you¡¯ve seen my room, so you know I¡¯m not messy.¡± He defended himself, taking a moment to tidy up the workbench. As he grabbed it, he sent a glare towards the socket extension he¡¯d been looking for hours ago. Papers crinkled in his hand as he shuffled them together. He then grimaced at himself, realizing he had created even more work for himself. He would need to sit still and separate them out again from their now jumbled mess. A flap of the blueprint was raised suspiciously, and as he lifted it, he saw the corner of the carefully wrapped box.

    ¡°Ah¨Chere it is.¡±

    She took it from him, a tired, small smile at the simple gesture. The wrapping was a thin, silky sheet of lavender fabric, and it tickled her hands. Sheeva untied the twine holding it together, examined the string for a brief second, then bunched it up and stuck it in her pocket, along with the folded, lavender fabric.

    Tazaro didn¡¯t dare to point this oddity out. Instead, watched her open the box apprehensively, and he wondered if she thought they had placed something in it that would spring out and attack her. He jokingly called her out on it and did not miss the shift of her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something, then tutted.

    ¡°I did not think you would, no, but,¡± She chuckled at a far-off memory. ¡°Heh, I know someone who would. And did.¡± She smiled in fondness and shook her head. ¡°Anyway, this isn¡¯t spring-loaded, is it?¡± She asked.

    ¡°No, you¡¯d probably kill us.¡± He joked.

    ¡°Mm, think I might. Slowly, too. Death by mandragora nectar seems appropriate.¡± She threatened with a smile that unnerved him. Tazaro¡¯s face fell, as he didn¡¯t know enough about plants to know what hellacious effect mandragora nectar held on people. Maybe, it was a disturbing paralytic.

    ¡°Um¡­what the hell is a mandragora?¡±

    She looked up at his worried muttering and studied his face, now pallid and appearing horrified.

    ¡°You do not know?¡±

    ¡°Sorry, no.¡±

    Sheeva pursed her lips in embarrassment. The harmless joke had been taken too much as a serious threat.

    ¡°Ah. Well, it¡¯s a...carnivorous plant that lures prey with sweet-smelling nectar. Unwary prey will drink the nectar and fall asleep. It scoops them up into its giant pot-belly with long poisonous tendrils and dissolves and devours it over time¨CLike a gigantic pitcher plant. Mandragora nectar is useful in the field for poisoning bait or sabotage. I am sure Vincent uses it all the time in his profession as a doctor. You should ask him about it.¡±

    Tazaro¡¯s eyebrows raised in interest.

    ¡°And you know this because you¡¯ve...done it?¡±

    Slowly, Sheeva nodded.

    ¡°I laced my weapons with the stuff before fighting a rabid lupine for a bounty.¡± She cleared her throat, fighting the awkward silence that followed.

    ¡°Anyway¡­¡± Sheeva directed her attention to the box, pulled open the flaps, and peered inside. Varying grades of whetstones bundled together, as well as a container of salve and medical supplies, rested inside.

    ¡°Thank you. These will be handy,¡± she commented, setting them down while turning her attention to the last thing that hid in the box. Upon grabbing the bundle of cloth, she knew what it was the instant she felt the weight of it in her palm, and with a hopeful gasp, she gleefully looked at him before carefully turning it over in her other hand to hastily unwrap it.

    The silver pocket watch, with a brand-new chain, a shimmering polish, a careful detailing of the lyndworm wrapped around the cover, and a new, red-ruby in its eye socket, shined back at her in the light.

    ¡°Wow!¡± She exclaimed in a manner Tazaro never imagined. ¡°Wow, it¡¯s-it¡¯s like it¡¯s brand new!¡± She smiled, then held it to her ear, filled with even more joy. ¡°It¡¯s even ticking again!¡±

    Tazaro hummed sheepishly, though fully pleased with himself.

    ¡°Open it,¡± He managed past the swooning frog in his throat.

    Sheeva clicked it open, eyes searching in hope for a refreshed, good-as-the-day-it-was-written note with teal ink and Rose¡¯s handwriting, but what she found instead was a teal-colored engraving in Rose¡¯s handwriting, with the words previously memorialized on the paper etched into the back of the lid.

    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

    Wherever you go, dearie, my love is always with you. ~Rose

    The words became instantly blurred by tears, and Sheeva clamped it shut and ducked her head down as she clutched the precious thing to her chest and shamelessly sniffled.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± She whispered, barely audible that Tazaro was able to hear it. He cleared the knot of guilt for accidentally making her cry from his throat.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. It would have been ready sooner, but I wanted to see if I could find someone to engrave that for you. I¡¯m glad I did; I think it matches her handwriting exact¨C

    He stopped as she rushed forward and hugged him with her arms around his middle, not expecting the gesture at all. Getting over his initial surprise, he hugged her back, aware of her trembling while she still sniffled and whispered her thanks.

    Sheeva found herself further pacified by the warmth of his torso against hers and the security of his arms around her frame, and, too star-struck by her gratitude to move, she settled her head against his chest. His heartbeat was strong, though frantically beating, and the rumble that sounded as he gave a content hum surprised her as it tickled her cheek.

    Wishing to compose herself, she pulled herself out of the hug and cleared her throat, all the while pinning the pocket watch to the edge of her pocket and slipping the thing inside. The brief cold metal cooled a spot on her thigh before it warmed up, and the weight of it in her pocket made her feel whole again. Pleased to check the time at her own whim again, she retrieved it from her pocket and clicked it open, then smiled at the clock¡¯s face as it read back the current time: 10:23.

    Sheeva felt suddenly aware of being watched, and she snapped the thing shut and turned her attention to Tazaro. His arms were crossed, though a lovely, wide smile spanned his face and curled into his citrine eyes, alight with pride and joy.

    ¡°You, you really do take pride in your work, Tazaro. I, I really can¡¯t thank you enough,¡± she stated, then blinked as she realized that, even though it wasn¡¯t much, she had the money she¡¯d been saving for when she finally decided to leave, though the previously agreed ¡°lease¡± had been outdated for about a month.

    She reached into her pocket for her coin purse.

    ¡°Here, take this,¡± She insisted.

    It brought him out of his pleased stare, and he took a step back.

    ¡°No, no there¡¯s no need to¨C

    ¨Cbut, you must! I cannot not pay¨Cjust take it!¡± She urged, trying to shove it into his hands, because then he would have to take it.

    Keen to this custom, Tazaro immediately raised his hands above his head with a cheeky smile.

    ¡°Oh-ho! Nope!¡± He grinned. ¡°I won¡¯t accept that,¡± He teased, aware of the burning blush on his cheeks at their proximity to Sheeva¡¯s as she stood up on the tips of her toes and tried to stretch up to thrust the coin purse in his hands.

    The air between them was electric, and warm, and he couldn¡¯t lie; he was incredibly tempted to throw out something as cheesy as requesting a kiss as payment.

    Finding that she was unable to reach, even if she stood on the tips of her toes, she settled back down and looked at the stuffed coin-purse in her hands. Compared to what it¡¯d been when she first started saving, it was now so jam-packed, her hands looked like doll hands in comparison.

    ¡°Sheeva¡­¡± Tazaro paused to find his voice amid the fluttering of his heart in his chest. ¡°Don¡¯t, uh, worry about it. Really. Seeing your smile is enough.¡±

    Sheeva pouted, feeling weird that a smile would be ¡°enough.¡± With a relenting sigh, she looked to her bag, wondering if she had anything else to offer. Recalling the dinner Mildred had requested she drop off, she felt a little better.

    If money wouldn¡¯t do, a nice gesture would have to.

    Sheeva headed for her bag and sifted the gifted items in carefully, taking a moment to add the medical supplies to the smaller satchel she kept them separated in. As she headed back over to the Stargazer and sat across from him, she carried the bundle of leftover rolls she had baked and handed one to him along with an apple and the container of soup.

    ¡°Here, some dinner. I-I figure you forgot to eat, as you said you do.¡± She insisted. He took it, wondering when he¡¯d said such a thing, then smiled.

    ¡°Oh, that was a joke. Ah, well, mostly. Sometimes I do, but...¡± Tazaro trailed off when Sheeva gave him a knowing look. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    Tazaro took an awkward bite of the roll to avoid saying anything else ridiculous. The mouth-watering taste of cheese hit, and he looked at the savory bread, interested.

    ¡°Oh, these have cheese inside? Neat! Where did you get these?¡±

    ¡°I made them with our dinner last night.¡± She answered, turning the apple in her hand as she took another bite.

    ¡°It¡¯s good! Funny, I thought about swinging by Mom¡¯s house for dinner. Apparently, I should have.¡± He complimented, taking another bite. She gave him a mildly confused look, then blinked in realization.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t eat dinner at your mother¡¯s. No, I, uh, fed Josef and the others. Those children I told you about. I have been trying to teach them to care for themselves until the orphanage is built. Maybe even after, should they need to leave.¡±

    Tazaro played with a bit of rosemary between his teeth, taking in her confession. He smiled, eyes lifted as her level of care etched itself deeper into what little he knew. Glancing at her, his mild swoon subsided as he saw the darkened look in her eye. She¡¯d stopped nibbling on the apple, a thousand-yard stare on her sleepy face.

    It was something he¡¯d seen on Tyler and Rin¡¯s face on the odd occasion, and it worried him.

    ¡°Sheeva?¡± He called out to her. She sucked in a breath and blinked, then looked at him.

    ¡°Yes?¡±

    He paused, thinking of something to say, ask, or do to justify bringing her out of whatever memory had taken hold. He braced himself.

    ¡°Why would they need to leave? What do you think would happen to them?¡± He asked.

    The glowering look on her face grew as she picked at the hem of her long-sleeve shirt, the apple still firmly pinched between slender fingers.

    ¡°As I said before, my early childhood was full of neglect, but it goes much further than that. Among the other unforgivable things that my birth mother did, I was abandoned at an orphanage in Torde. They did not care for us at all. Used us for cheap labor or kicking posts. Likely sold some of us to labor in the mines. I don¡¯t...remember much else, only much pain and suffering.¡±

    Tazaro''s stomach churned, and he found he''d lost his appetite.

    She forced a bite of the apple.

    ¡°Be grateful for your parents, Tazaro. They love you as Rose¡­loved me.¡± She insisted with a lonely sigh. She sat back and heaved a sigh, then set the unfinished roll down, disinterested.

    ¡°Would you tell me about the kids you¡¯ve taken to?¡± He asked, hoping that it would lighten the bone-chilling ambiance of the room. ¡°How are they doing?¡±

    ¡°Josef is the oldest of the bunch. Says he is sixteen, though you would not be able to tell. Living on the streets has hindered his growth. Has a fondness for sweets, mischief, and picking people¡¯s pockets.¡± Her eyes squinted in disapproval. ¡°Being the oldest, he has assumed responsibility for the others. I¡¯ve tasked him with watching over the others even after they get into the orphanage. Hopefully, that will help him realize that he cannot afford to be caught and will abandon his criminal ways.¡±

    ¡°Sophia is thirteen, Arc is eleven. They are siblings, and they certainly fight like siblings.¡± She said with a small smile, recalling her rival¡¯s face. ¡°But in the end, their loyalty to the other will pull them through. They don¡¯t let anyone else pick on the other, as I imagine siblings do. My rival and I never did, bizarre as that is to know...and say.¡±

    ¡°I doubt that ¡®Nook¡¯ is his real name, but he doesn¡¯t speak much¨Cthough he makes his point when he does. Unfortunately, he has horrors in his past that haunt him, including the death of his own family at the hands of bandits. He is flighty, quick to hide, hence the nickname. He is at least as old as Arc, though I am not sure, and although he is well on his way to becoming a responsible teenager, he has a toy soldier he covets.¡±

    Given the proper training and drive, she wondered if Nook would someday make a damn good assassin. She kept the thought to herself and took another bite.

    ¡°Despite me telling them not to associate with anyone on the block, they made a new friend. Cecilia. I caught them all playing in the backyard together¨Capparently, she climbed the fence. I know I can be a little¡­paranoid, but until Llyud is taken care of, I am uncomfortable, and¡­I worry. Perhaps, I am being unfair in asking that they refrain from making friends with other children their age,¡± She mused, glancing at the soup by Tazaro¡¯s knee.

    Seeming to notice, he slid it towards her.

    ¡°Help yourself,¡± He assured.

    Sheeva smiled, and grabbed the spoon to deliver a bite.

    ¡°Yelena is the youngest. I believe she is five. I have been trying to teach her to read. She has a collection of picture books she treasures. She reminds me much of myself when I was around her age, at least, as far as childhood innocence goes.¡±

    Sheeva would coddle Yelena, offering to brush and braid her hair. Sheeva had taught Sophia to do the same so that, when she left, Yelena could have the simple comfort of being cared for.

    ¡°Yelena calls me ¡®mother.¡¯ I suppose it¡¯s better than hearing ¡®miss¡¯ all the time, but it is still¡­odd.¡± She slowly nodded to herself as she thought about it. Sheeva imagined that was how Rose must have felt the first couple of weeks Sheeva called her that.

    ¡°Definitely an odd thing.¡± She confirmed with a small smile.

    ¡°Wait, they don¡¯t know your name?¡± Tazaro asked.

    ¡°I try not to give my name unless I have no other choice.¡±

    ¡°Not the artist, nor those kids, huh? That¡¯s cold.¡±

    Sheeva shook her head sadly.

    ¡°It is for their safety as well as mine.¡±

    Tazaro responded with an awkward ¡°oh,¡± and reached for his glass of water. Expecting it to be filled, he put a little force into picking it up, surprised when it was lighter than he thought. He looked at it, wondering when he¡¯d finished it, then realized it was an old glass. Making a face at himself, he set it down.

    ¡°Good craftsmanship for the painter¡¯s prosthetic. I recognized your signature.¡±

    ¡°Uh...thanks. It was a fun project.¡± He accepted meekly. ¡°He went on and on about you, you know¨Cnot in a, uh, romantic way; I think he likes the lady at the produce stand. Anyway, he said you donated a lot to him.¡±

    ¡°Yes. He does. And, yes, I did.¡±

    ¡°Where did you get the money?¡±

    ¡°¡®Help wanted¡¯ requests. You¡¯d be surprised how many people pine for pets who are simply getting attention from others a mere three doors down.¡± She scoffed. ¡°Though, the man I beat up from Northside made a nice, significant contribution with the money I pilfered from his undeserving pocket. Other than that...hustling. People don¡¯t expect a woman to throw darts or arm-wrestle. Pity for them. Profit for me.¡± She smirked.

    Tazaro snickered at her statement, finding that he¡¯d like to join her on one of her outings just so he could say he witnessed her stellar feats.

    A calm silence fell between them, and Sheeva finished her apple, picked up a roll, and gave it a light squeeze. It was still puffy but cold. She took a bite of the bread roll, letting go of a dissatisfied hum.

    ¡°These are much better when warm. The cheese inside gets nice and gooey.¡± She muttered, a bashful smile at her statement.

    Tazaro¡¯s mouth watered at the idea of melted cheese nestled in a soft roll, then blinked as a thought came to him.

    ¡°Hey, do you have more of those? I can place them by the furnace downstairs.¡±

    Sheeva turned and looked at him, surprised. She hadn¡¯t seen a set of stairs suggesting anything about a bottom floor when she¡¯d come in the first time, though to be honest with herself, Sheeva had been too busy looking at the items on display, and, when...visiting otherwise, was somewhat restrained to the loft since she figured Rin wouldn¡¯t take well to a bird in his shop.

    ¡°There¡¯s a cellar?¡±

    He stood and brushed himself off again, then held out a hand to help her up. She didn¡¯t take it, and stood up herself, grabbed a couple more rolls out of the bag, and followed him down to the first level. A painting hung on the wall depicting a group of men, including Tyler with Jax at his feet and the owner of the shop, Rin, with a decorative ribbon folded beneath and a fancy coin hanging off the side.

    Squadron 73, It read. Sheeva wondered what war the men had fought in. Given their age, perhaps they¡¯d all assisted Tarrakk in their defense of Cruinia¡¯s ill-thought onslaught.

    She finished the descent and toward the back room, where Tazaro had opened a door. He reached into a matchbox and grabbed one, struck it, and lit the wick to an oil lantern. He held it above his head as he disappeared down the stairs, not noticing that Sheeva had hesitated at the doorway until he had stopped halfway.

    ¡°You¡¯re allowed down here, you know. There¡¯s nothing dangerous. Maybe rats if you¡¯re hungry.¡± He teased, turning to look back up at her. She shot him a scowl, grabbed a nearby pot, and propped open the door.

    ¡°I do not generally eat rats, Tazaro.¡± She growled. ¡°And even if I did, it would certainly not be one from a city. Those things are filthy and spread disease.¡±

    ¡°And generally, I¡¯m teasing you.¡± He shot, surprising himself. His stomach flipped as he told himself that teasing her this way seemed easy. Tazaro ruffled his hair as the bashfulness spread across his face, cleared his throat, and stepped further in, pausing to set the lantern on a stone countertop. He turned the dial to lengthen the wick and illuminate the room a little more.

    Stone walls lined the foundation, a support beam here and there, uncovered cross beams supporting the floor above. The cobblestone flooring caused Sheeva¡¯s boots to click on them as she forced herself into the room, and she tapped the toe of her boot on the floor in nerves. She huffed, unwilling to look up and around.

    ¡°Here.¡± She called, the rolls held in her outstretched hand. Tazaro pulled his attention away from the memorial tapestry that covered a spot on the wall Rin had damaged in a rage at something. He took the rolls, and she backed off to stand by the steps, seeming highly uncomfortable about something.

    He did not dare call her out on this one, having an unsettling feeling that it had something to do with the orphanage. Instead, he headed toward the furnace, wrapped the rolls in a clean scrap of cloth, and then set them atop the furnace¡¯s metal. He peered at the coals through the grate. They were still glimmering but had already begun to die and whiten in places.

    Tazaro shuffled his hands in his pockets, running the fabric of them through his fingers as he paced to amuse himself while he waited, mindful to not ram his shin on the anvil in the dim light.

    ¡°Why would you keep a blacksmithing furnace in the basement and not outside?¡± Sheeva asked.

    He looked back at her. She still had not moved from the bottom of the stairs and had practically melded into the wall.

    ¡°Dual-purpose. Besides fixing our own pieces if we need to, we heat the shop in winter. Unfortunately, we blew through a lot of wood during the one we just had." He paused as he began to wonder just how much they''d burned through, then shook his head.

    "Anyway, these pipes direct the flow. The one on the left leads straight to the roof to let out the smoke. The one on the right splits into each of the rooms. There is a lever you can pull to let the heat in. We don¡¯t use the furnace to make changes to pieces in summer unless we absolutely need to; the heat¡¯s insufferable.¡±

    ¡°Oh. That¡¯s clever. We have nothing like that at home. At least, not without subversion of the temple walls.¡±

    Tazaro checked the rolls, took them off the furnace, and cradled the bundle in his arm while reaching for the lantern with his free hand. Sheeva hurried up the steps, slid the pot aside with her foot, then shut the door behind him.

    ¡°Is your temple on some outer-rim island? Furnaces that disperse heat like that have been around for at least a decade now.¡± He asked. Sheeva huffed at him, feeling mildly insulted.

    ¡°It is not. It actually sits near the Urul-Maizen pass.¡±

    ¡°Uh, ¡®Scuse me? I¡¯ve lived here most of my life, and I¡¯ve never heard of a temple in the mountains.¡± He called over his shoulder, grunting as he pulled a lever next to a metal pipe that ran to the ceiling from the floor. A grate opened, spilling warmth into the room.

    ¡°Oh, I see how that works. That is clever.¡± Sheeva stated, taking one of the rolls as he handed it to her. ¡°Ah, but no, likely, you wouldn¡¯t. It¡¯s hidden.¡± She answered, taking a bite.

    ¡°Huh. Like, hidden in the side of a mountain or something? That would be kind of pretty, actually.¡± He mused, shuffling himself up on the workbench to sit. He cleared a spot to his right, motioning for her to sit next to him.

    She stuck her roll in her mouth to hold it while she pushed herself up onto the counter.

    Tazaro pinched the roll in half and pulled it apart, thrilled when the sound of crisp crust crinkled in his ears, and when he took a bite, he smiled.

    ¡°Mm. Heating these up was a good call.¡± He pointed out after plucking a string of cheese apart with his fingers and sticking it in his mouth.

    He took his time, savoring the creamy cheese amid fluffy bread, the occasional crystalized spot of salt or flake of rosemary pleasing to his taste buds.

    Sheeva did not answer, too busy enjoying her own roll.

    ¡°Will you show Mom or me how to make those? Or is it some, uh, temple secret?¡± He grinned. She gave a soft smile.

    ¡°For being blind, your mother is an amazing cook. I suppose I could do that before I leave.¡± She agreed.

    Tazaro felt his face fall a little at the mention of her taking off. He stuck the last bite in his mouth to free his face from its expression.

    ¡°After you¡¯re done with Llyud, where will you go? If you find him in some other town, will you, uh¡­¡± He paused, a small ignition of hope welling in his chest. ¡°Circle back through Roussell before going to your temple?¡± He asked.

    Sheeva looked at him, somewhat surprised.

    ¡°Is that an invitation?¡± She asked, mildly annoyed with his ambiguity.

    The smile broke on his face, and he heaved a breath.

    ¡°Um, yeah¨Cyes.¡± He cleared his throat. ¡°Yes, it is.¡± He admitted, biting his tongue, anxiously waiting for her response and watching for her expression out of the corner of his eye.

    He saw a small smile and lift of her eyes as she muttered a surprised ¡°huh¡± and took a long drink from her water pouch. She closed it, frowned with a thought, and fiddled with the cap.

    ¡°Thank you, Tazaro. I appreciate the invitation, but...that depends on whether or not I survive the encounter.¡± She didn¡¯t look him in the eye, sure that she¡¯d crumble with the anger that would likely follow on his face from her confession.

    ¡°What? Sheeva, if you die, what¡¯s the point of exacting revenge?¡± He growled. Sheeva brought her eyes up to meet his gaze briefly. Sure enough, his brow furrowed with anger. Unable to further witness the look of disappointment, she dropped her head again, a wistful, apologetic look on her face.

    ¡°I have been chasing this for years, Tazaro. I am...I am tired. I have done nothing but run myself to death. I have nothing to my name. No legacy. A handful of allies, yes, but also an army of enemies. If-if I¡¯m not wanted for something in one town, I¡¯ve been hated and run out of another.¡± She explained. Her expression hardened, and she shook her head.

    ¡°No...this needs to be done. If I don¡¯t, Llyud will simply kill someone else; it could be one of the children I¡¯ve taken to, could be your mother, or Tyler, or even¨Cshe hesitated here, finding her stomach churned at the thought of Llyud torturing Tazaro to death.

    She tsked at herself; she would feel terrible if Llyud had anything to do with any of their deaths.

    ¡°Well, even you. I¡¯ve gone to great lengths to keep you all safe, and I¡¯ll be damned if I let him get the best of me again.¡± She insisted, reminding him of his fragility and herself of her resolve.

    ¡°If I do die, consider it a final admonition. A parting gift for this undeserving world.¡±

    He did not even know what he could possibly say. Sheeva sounded so sure of herself that Tazaro had a feeling that nothing, not even staring death in the face, could break her determination.

    Tazaro hummed in contemplation and stared at the project he¡¯d been trying to finish as she reminded him of her ambitions, twisted and solitary as they were. He found it strangely humbling that she would be so resolute about people she hardly knew. She had only been staying in Roussell for a little over two months.

    Needing to fidget with something, he picked up a random tool at his side and twirled it around his fingers, like he would do with his pencils when trying to draft ideas.

    ¡°I do hope you will be done with that before I leave,¡± Sheeva admitted, pointing at the work in progress. Grateful for the change of subject, Tazaro tethered to it.

    ¡°Yeah. Should be. How long until you, uh, do that?¡±

    She thought for a moment, surprised that she would consider slacking a few days to stretch out her visit if need be.

    ¡°I still have the Northside to finish. The Northside is taking me a while; there is a lot of crime there. I find myself beating up criminals more often than actually searching.¡±

    ¡°Heh. Careful with that¨Cpeople might think you¡¯re a superhero. Would you like us to sew you a cape?¡± He cracked, snickering at his wit. Sheeva chuckled softly and waved the idea away.

    ¡°No capes. They could snag; the last thing I need is to hang myself from a gutter while soaring from roof to roof.¡± She stated casually.

    He smiled and chuckled at a thought.

    ¡°Speaking of roofs, you¡¯re gonna have to show me how you keep getting onto this one. I, uh, could fix a ladder to the hatch if you don¡¯t feel like being wildly acrobatic.¡±

    Sheeva stared at the half-finished project, weighing her options.

    ¡°If I show you, will you keep it a secret?¡± She asked. He chuckled, wondering if this was her way of flirting, but when he registered the heavy tone of voice and glanced at her expression, he found it to be serious. Tazaro blinked slowly, tilting his head in curiosity. He briefly recalled her saying something about flying, and his eyes widened the more he thought about it.

    ¡°Yes. I will. I mean...I¡¯ve kept my mouth shut about everything else, haven¡¯t I?¡± He asked, hoping to alleviate her nerves.

    It did not work like he had hoped.

    ¡°What is that phrase you use when you swear on something? On the dead man¡¯s grave?¡±

    This threw Tazaro for even more of a loop.

    ¡°Um, well, yeah, but it¡¯s more a thing my friends and I¨C

    ¨CI would ask of you to swear on that, then, Tazaro Chorea. Swear that you will never tell a soul.¡± She cut him off, seeming tense and so shockingly stern, Tazaro stammered for a second. Wanting to ensure he was really willing to sign up for¡­whatever it was she was about to show him, he took a deep breath.

    ¡°Ok¡­Sheeva Jules,¡± He started, feeling funny about using her full name. Still, it was all business, now, so he supposed it wasn¡¯t too out of place.

    ¡°On the dead man¡¯s grave, I swear it. I will not say anything, to anyone.¡± He promised calmly.

    Sheeva believed him, from the evenness of his voice to the nod he gave as he spoke his convictions, and it filled her with gratitude. Clearing her throat of the nervous brick, she shed her jacket, dropped it at her feet, and closed her eyes in focus.

    Tazaro watched as two gigantic, white-silver feathered wings slid out from her back. She lifted and stretched them, sighing in relief at the nice pull of the spinal muscles around her upper back and between her shoulder blades. When they lowered, the arches of the ¡°elbow¡± covered her shoulders. The length of the wings crossed at the small of her back, and the tips looped around her calves, end feathers barely brushing the dusty floor.

    ¡°What the¨Cby the gods!¡± He rambled, shoving himself off the counter and onto his feet. His legs trembled, and he stepped to the side to examine the elegant addition from another angle, mind-blown. ¡°That¡¯s-that¡¯s amazing!¡±

    ¡°Can you¨Cyou can actually take flight?¡± He asked, pausing at her side. ¡°I thought you were kidding!¡±

    He stumbled back as she stretched out her wings so quickly the air rushed past his face, then watched as she flapped them. He covered his eyes as dust picked up and heard the flutter of the Stargazer blueprint behind him as it flapped with the short gust of wind.

    He looked up, watching her hover there, a giant wingspan keeping her afloat as they flapped in a steady beat. As the skin of the wings caught the air, she glided in a descent, then dropped back to the floor. Standing straight, she tucked the wings to rest and fold against her back in what he guessed was a comfortable manner.

    ¡°I don¡¯t believe it! They¡¯re real? This isn¡¯t some kind of trick?¡± He asked. She looked over her shoulder at him, surprised to find his face alight with wonder and fascination.

    Fully enthralled, he approached her with a grin on his face.

    ¡°Can I touch¨Coof!¡±

    Sheeva jumped and stepped back when he stepped forward, reaching for the left wing tucked back against her shoulder. She blocked his grasp by slapping his hand out of the way, pushed him away with a rough shove of his chest, and stepped out of range, eyes wide and hairs standing on the back of her neck.

    ¡°Don¡¯t!¡± She hissed, panting as she trembled with her adrenaline rush.

    Tazaro held up his hands.

    ¡°Sorry! I, I¡¯m sorry, I suppose that was rude.¡± He blurted immediately. ¡°I-I-uh, didn¡¯t even think about¨CHe stopped, and looked at his hands, wondering if the nervous sweat and natural oils on his skin would tarnish the feather¡¯s effectiveness. ¡°Wait, do you have oil glands like birds do?¡± He asked, then scoffed at himself. ¡°What the fuck am I saying¨Cthis is nuts!¡±

    ¡°Well, um, yes, I do, but,¡± She softened and dropped her hands. ¡°My apologies, I thought you were aiming to, uh, attack.¡±

    ¡°Me? No, I would never! I just¨CI can¡¯t believe they¡¯re real.¡± He blathered, then blinked as it dawned on him that someone had.

    ¡°Wait, attack? Who hurt¨C

    ¨CThe people in Midna''s Overlook. I already told you of how I came to be there. When I came to after my initial drugging, I was caged in an Iphsium den and found my wings plucked bare. They had originally planned to keep me as a slave or a prostitute, but I suppose when they stripped me of my clothing, they found the space where I fold in my wings¨Clike cats do with their claws. They used my primary feathers for quills, powdered the other feathers to mix in their drug, and sold it, falsely prophetizing it as an aphrodisiac or panacea.¡±

    ¡°Are you serious? That¡¯s insane!¡± Tazaro spat. Sheeva looked up, surprised to hear the anger in his voice.

    ¡°Who the fuck does that? Those bastards were presented with something pretty fuckin¡¯ cool, and their first thought was to destroy it?¡± He ranted, pointing at something random. He huffed a few staggered, riled breaths, and began to stride to and fro, shaking his head, a baffled expression plastered on his face.

    Sheeva gaped at him like a fish for a few seconds as her brain took in the information. The scowl he had on his face was genuine, and with the way he paced the room, she almost smiled at his emotional state in her own pleasant confusion. She found that she liked the way his eyes gleamed, alight with his passions.

    Fully surprised with herself and with him, Sheeva cleared away the knot in her throat and uncrossed her arms. She held onto one arm for comfort.

    ¡°Tazaro?¡± She called to him, hoping to bring him out of his state.

    ¡°What?¡± He asked curtly, still fuming by the way his lips pursed together in a thin line and his hands crossed, then uncrossed, then crossed again in his indecision.

    ¡°You¡­really think they¡¯re ¡®cool¡¯?¡± She asked, wanting to veer him onto a more positive subject, as he, Mildred, and Tyler seemed to encourage her to do.

    Tazaro settled as the question sank in, fast breathing slowing down as he took in the suddenly endearing stance. The blush on her cheeks sold it all, and it made him melt. Any anger he felt died and arose as that familiar whirlpool of butterflies, breathlessness, heartflips, and cold feet signaling the crush that was now so overwhelming, he almost couldn¡¯t stand. Vincent called it; Tazaro had it bad, much as he attempted to tell himself otherwise.

    ¡°Y-yeah,¡± He stammered, then huffed, annoyed with himself. ¡°I mean¨Cof course, I do. I mean¡­it¡¯s not every day you meet, uh, a-a badass woman that looks like a¡­a Valkyrie,¡± He defended, waving a hand as though he could conjure the words he struggled to say out of thin air.

    ¡°Wait, wait¨C¡± He paused, realizing something. ¡°Are you a Valkyrie? I mean, you got the sword, the wings, the beauty¨Ceverything.¡±

    At this, Sheeva snorted and shook her head, and a sheepish smile spread on her face. She covered her mouth with a graceful hand to hide it.

    "Val¡¯kiriya?¡± She asked, mildly surprised he would refer to something from a fairy-tale. ¡°You are trying to be silly." She decided, attempting to deflect the spark of hope igniting its way through her chest, particularly at his addition of ¡°beauty¡± on his list of comparisons.

    "No,¡± He stated adamantly. ¡°No, I¡¯m being serious.¡±

    Fully taken-aback, Sheeva stared at him for a moment, pleased with the budding gratitude in her chest. Taking an apprehensive step closer, then another to close the distance enough that he could reach, she arched a wing forward.

    ¡°Here. I¡¯ll-I will trust you, then, Tazaro.¡± She whispered, deliberately grabbed his hand, and set his hand on the wing.

    The wing itself was surprisingly warm to the touch, able to feel the heat radiate beneath the initial layer of feathers. His fingers tingled as he felt the soft downy beneath the neatly aligned, overlapping sheath of secondary and primary feathers. He watched, amazed at how they shifted to accommodate his fingers as he gently moved them with the feathers¡¯ grade. He let his knuckles graze the rigid rachis of a particular feather that kept it attached to the wing itself¨Clike the barbules of a reptilian scale¨Cthen gently pressed a split together that appeared in the vane of the feather he worked between his fingers. When it locked together, he grinned with childish glee.

    ¡°That is so neat. It¡¯s, it¡¯s exactly like a bird¡¯s wing.¡± He muttered, mesmerized as his hand continued to discover the new appendage.

    ¡°So-so this is like, the upper-arm, right?¡± He asked, trailing his hand along the first, long bone connecting directly to her shoulder.

    Giving her wing¡¯s humerus another firm grasp, he noted just how much it really was like an extra arm, and as he shifted his fingers through her feathers again, the divine tingle of the down-feathers and thick, devious texture of interlacing vane tickled into his palm. He gently lifted the wing and ran his hand along what he likened to the radius, ulna, and metacarpals in an arm, then down the primary set of feathers, mesmerized by their structure and texture.

    ¡°I, I think I have one of your, uh, feathers in my room,¡± Tazaro admitted, finding the sentence couldn¡¯t have sounded any more weird if he¡¯d heard it said back to him in a foreign language. ¡°Gods be damned, that¡¯s a weird fucking thing to say.¡±

    Sheeva chuckled at something with a sheepish smile.

    ¡°You almost saw me that night.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡±

    She huffed, and shook her head in embarrassment.

    ¡°I thought I saw Llyud walking out of a bar and along the street. I gave chase, then realized I was chasing shadows when I stumbled on a dead-end. I heard someone walking close-by, panicked, and flew up towards the fire exit ladder. When I saw it was you, I followed you home so that I could ensure you would be safe.¡±

    Still stunned into silence, he found himself gazing in her eyes, which were not looking back at him. The sudden, heavy desire to kiss her hit him, and as hard as he tried to quell it, Tazaro could not. It was his turn to tremble, and he sucked in a breath as he felt his face heat again.

    ¡°Hey, Sheeva?¡±

    With a gentle tuck of his finger beneath her chin, he brought her eyes to meet his, wanting to memorize her face. That cute, smooth-cheeked face, now tinted pink with a blush across her cheekbones. Those bow-shaped lips that betrayed her stoic nature with an adorable pout or peaceful, passive, slight smile, now parted in a gasp. He¡¯d miss seeing those ruby-colored eyes that pierced with admonition, and even the teariness of them from her bittersweet smile.

    ¡°Any, uh, other secrets you¡¯d like to share with me?¡± He felt his lips pull into a smile as his heart fluttered.

    ¡°O-oh?¡± She stuttered, surprised. With the way the warm glow in his eyes shined, cheerful and eager to know, it made her thrilled to spill the secret she¡¯d had the hardest time containing.

    When she gave an uncharacteristically girlish giggle and dropped her head out of the crook of his finger as her face turned beet-red, he slowly dropped his hand to hers, grasping it gently to encourage her closer. Intuitive as she was, it seemed she was still extremely shy beneath the tough-exterior, and it made Tazaro¡¯s heart want to pop out of his mouth.

    Ho-ly fuck, that¡¯s adorable.

    ¡°You caught me, I guess. I can actually do magic,¡± She admitted.

    Tazaro blinked, jerked out of the romantic-anxious whirlwind he had been in as his brain short-circuited.

    ¡°Uh¨C¡± He choked.

    ¡°I, um¡­¡± He slowly realized there wasn¡¯t an apology necessary here, but wasn¡¯t entirely sure what to say, think, or do.

    ¡°Wut?¡±

    As a glimmer of light illuminated her face from below, he looked down. A sparkling, shimmering orb hovered above her outstretched hand and radiated light, and he gazed at it, mesmerized.

    ¡°What is that?¡± He asked as he reached out his hand to touch it with a finger, then withdrew it sharply as though it had bitten him, even though it hadn¡¯t, finding the orb surprisingly warm to the touch.

    ¡°An orb of light!¡± Sheeva explained cheerfully, and though Tazaro was still staring at the orb, he picked up on the giddiness in her voice.

    ¡°Light?¡± He repeated, and reached out to touch it again, accidentally squishing it between his finger and Sheeva¡¯s palm. Realizing so, he quickly lifted his hand with an apology to the thing whether it was sentient or not, amused at the springy bob it gave as it bounced back into its hover over her palm.

    ¡°Holy shit.¡± He whispered breathlessly.

    It flickered and faded, and feeling a sway of exhaustion, Sheeva stepped away and rubbed at her eyes.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it,¡± Tazaro murmured in sheer befuddlement.

    As the realization that he had been extremely forward hit, Tazaro crossed his arms and scratched at his chin, a funny smile creeping onto his face. He bit his tongue as he struggled with the awkward swarm welling within, wanting to apologize profusely. Somehow, he began to doubt she had picked up on his cues, considering her first answer was to admit to magic and not to lean into a possible kiss.

    ¡°Ah, Sheeva, I¡¯m sorry for¨CHe stopped as she yawned, seeming disconcerned with his advances. If they had been unwelcome, she certainly didn¡¯t seem to be showing so, and he trusted that, if there had been a problem, she would have undoubtedly told him so.

    ¡°Nothing to be sorry for. I told you, didn¡¯t I?¡± She assured with a soft smile.

    He crossed one arm over his middle and propped his chin in a hand to hide his bemused smile with his fingers.

    ¡°Ahem, right.¡± He responded.

    She wiped at her eyes, then yawned again, strode to the counter beside him, grabbed her canteen, and drank from it deeply, as though excessively parched.

    ¡°Is¡­that light-thing draining to do?¡± Tazaro asked, wanting to entertain something other than anxious thoughts.

    ¡°Mm, not really draining, no, but I am too tired to hold it for long. Other spells are much more taxing,¡± She answered, grateful she had simply shown him a low-cost light spell rather than a mid-cost firebreathing spell that would have left her much more dizzy.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to sleep well lately, otherwise it wouldn¡¯t be much of an issue.¡±

    Head still spinning from the tornado of emotions battering him for the last few minutes, Tazaro shakily paced the room to ground himself.

    ¡°Wow,¡± he muttered, then shook his head at his foggy thoughts. ¡°Sorry, I, I need a moment,¡± He explained his breakaway. Needing a drink, himself, he headed for the kettle, poured a cup of the remaining tea, then sipped. It was long cold, but he couldn¡¯t care less. He held onto it with both hands as he stared into space at the floor in a disoriented haze.

    ¡°So, to answer you from earlier, I¡¯m¡­not a Valkyrie. I¡¯m a Ta¡¯hal-Sferran.¡± Sheeva corrected.

    ¡°Huh?¡± He asked, turning to look at her. She chuckled at his stunned mannerisms, then sauntered over to the wall he stood by. Her wings were still out, and he curiously observed how they moved with her, seeming to sway to-and-fro with a slight bob at each step.

    ¡°My father was a Ta¡¯hal.¡± She stated simply.

    ¡°What? I thought they were extinct!¡± He blurted. Sheeva huffed.

    ¡°So did your mother. So did anyone else I¡¯ve told this to,¡± Sheeva pointed out.

    Tazaro eyed her curiously, and as he looked at her face, he did happen to notice how sharp her eyes were, pupils showing as beveled plus-signs, with an unnatural rounded pointiness to her ears. Aside from close examination, he still wondered how she would not exhibit the long claws and sharp teeth often used to depict the evil things.

    ¡°How, uh¡­¡± He wasn¡¯t sure how to voice his question in a way that was not unrefined.

    Sheeva, blushing, gave him a judgmental side-eye before looking away. It should have been obvious, since he had thought her to be of mixed race before.

    ¡°How else do Sferrans reproduce, Tazaro?¡± She deadpanned, avoiding his face.

    ¡°Uh, that¡¯s not what I was going to say! No, I was just trying to figure out how you don¡¯t seem more¡­¡± Tazaro sighed, lost for words.

    Maybe he had had too much caffeine.

    ¡°Terrifying? Monstrous? Villainous?¡± She suggested, stepping back.

    ¡°What?¡± He shot immediately.

    ¡°No, none of those things! Just exhibiting more characteristics of a Ta¡¯hal¨Cyou know, claws and teeth and¡­stuff.¡±

    Because, surely, they were both experts on things that hadn¡¯t been seen in upwards of a thousand years.

    As he realized what words she¡¯d offered to put in his mouth, he squinted his eyes at her in disapproval at her assumption. She stared back, surprised by the annoyed look on his face.

    ¡°You think I¡¯d just consider you to be some kind of monster? It¡¯s terrible, and it¡¯s bullshit. I think you''re¨Cwell, I think you¡¯re great, you know.¡± He announced as she calmed.

    ¡°You¡¯re resilient¨Cyou don¡¯t take crap from anyone, and you¡¯ve been so adamant about doing the right thing while still searching for that guy,¡± He added with a smile. ¡°And, you can shock people with a fist or break a femur with a kick. That¡¯s amazing and frightening, and fucking awesome¨Cif you don¡¯t mind my saying so.¡±

    When she stared at him with a slack-jawed look, he almost laughed at the expression. She regained her composure and cleared her throat, unsure how to take the compliment.

    As her eyes threatened to close from tiredness again, she took a deep breath and headed for the wall. She pressed her palm to it, muttered something, and a sigil flashed and faded. A blue light spread along the walls, across the ceiling and floor, then down the other walls. A soft blip sounded that tickled Tazaro¡¯s ear, and he scrunched his nose at it and rubbed his ear.

    ¡°This one will wake me if an enemy tries to breach the barrier. The one I had before is only useful when I¡¯m awake.¡±

    A perturbed look spread on his face, and he jerked his head to her.

    ¡°Uh, what do you mean, ¡®before?¡±

    Sheeva sighed and drew up her sleeve. An array of colorful sigils rested in her arm.

    ¡°Protection spells. They alert me if someone passes through. I¡¯m still developing this one.¡±

    ¡°Oh, my gods, that looks painful! Did you-did you carve these into your skin?¡± He asked, concerned as he looked back at the designs in her arm. He reached out to touch one, then stopped himself.

    ¡°Wait, that¡¯s not going to mess with anything, will it? Or¨Cor, like, make the spell disappear or something?¡±

    Sheeva smiled at his curiosity and concern, and shook her head.

    ¡°No. It seems permanent; at least, until I dispel it. And no, I did not carve anything. They branded themselves in likeness to the sigils I carved in the walls.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± He held up her arm, her hand in his, and traced the red design with his finger, wondering if it was tangible, raised, like a scar would be. Instead, it was soft, like a tattoo. It depicted a top-down view of a rose, though it was the only one of the four on her arm he recognized; flowers weren¡¯t his thing.

    ¡°This one is for your mother¡¯s house. It was the second one I placed. It is a rose...because it seems that mothers who give a damn about their children are similar. There is a corresponding sigil on the top of the front door frame. Tyler and your mother are still home; no one has left.¡± She stated. Tazaro watched as the green one flashed, and he figured it was another type of flower.

    ¡°Hm. One of the children has either left or arrived. It¡¯s awfully late, though. Josef better not be stealing again.¡± Sheeva muttered, more to herself than for explanation.

    ¡°So, the stoic warrior-girl has a fascination with flowers. Cute.¡± Tazaro teased, a light smile on his face as he continued to examine the sigils. Sheeva huffed to brush it off, though he still caught the tint of pink on her creamy cheeks.

    ¡°It¡¯s a Zinnia. They are tough and drought-resistant. Resilient¨CLike those kids.¡±

    ¡°I assume the blue one is for this place?¡± He asked. She nodded, looking at the sigil. It was a blue-star morning glory because he was fascinated with the stars, but she would not tell him that, not wanting to be further teased.

    ¡°The corresponding sigil is etched into the underside of Rin¡¯s front desk. I figured the both of you would be less likely to notice it, plus it is a permanent fixture. It will not be moved and render my work useless¡­unless one of you finds it and decides to scrape it off.¡±

    ¡°Wait, how did you get¨C

    ¨CI picked the lock. Before you ask, the yellow daffodil is yours and Vincent¡¯s. It¡¯s on your balcony rail.¡± She stated shamelessly.

    ¡°So¡­you really go to lengths to keep people safe,¡± He attempted to smooth his own discomfort with the idea that she seemed to keep tabs on everyone.

    Sheeva pulled her hand away and wraveled the bandage back around.

    ¡°It¡¯s necessary,¡± She dismissed.

    ¡°I am going to try to sleep now. You do not need to worry about waking me. I can muffle the sounds with a spell.¡±

    She turned back around, walked over to the cot, withdrew her wings, and lay down in it, leaving a bemused Tazaro standing in the middle of the room. Fully embarrassed with himself, he stared at the project for a moment in stun, amused with the comical misunderstanding. Unable to quell the laughter bubbling within, he hurried to the cellar, shoulders shaking as he struggled to hide his snickers.

    Once in the cellar, Tazaro¡¯s stifled chortles as he descended the stairs turned to barking laughter at himself. He would never tell Vincent or Micah about this awkward encounter; they would never let him live it down.

    ¡°By the fucking gods, Tazaro, you¡¯re an idiot!¡±

    He wasn¡¯t sure if he was imagining it, but the fact that she hadn¡¯t said anything towards not being interested in him ignited the sliver of hope in his chest and alleviated any sting of rejection.

    Drained from the evening and wanting some shut-eye, himself, Tazaro headed back up to the loft, pulled the sleeping bag down from the shelf, and crawled into it on the opposite side of the room, and fell asleep in minutes.

 Chapter 7: The Bunghee Dog and the Tricks Up Its Sleeves

    Sheeva looked at the shelf of stems, roots, leaves, and various other plant appendages while awaiting the powdered feverfew and yarrow mix she requested from the lady behind the counter, listening to the clink and grind of the mortar and pestle while trying to decide if she needed to purchase anything else while she was here. A late bloomer, Sophia was beginning her puberty phase, learning first-hand the downs and downs of menstruation, breast development, and cramps. To ease Sophia¡¯s mortifying transition into womanhood, Sheeva offered to retrieve some medicines that would help, though the highest quality herbs were almost exclusively available to the demographic of the Eastern Quarters.

    Sheeva was grateful she was there when the first sign of spotting happened, worried that the children might panic, believing that Sophia might be dying. After calming Sophia down with tea and a soothing, comforting hug as the elders in the temple had for herself, she fully explained what she knew of puberty and sexual development, though she hadn¡¯t delved into talking about sex beyond the obvious answer to the question of ¡°where babies came from.¡±

    Never having experienced it herself, she wished to avoid giving the young woman wrong advice and had openly admitted that she knew nothing beyond what intercourse was biologically meant for. She huffed at herself and realized that she might not have any other choice than to ask Mildred for assistance explaining if Sophia had questions Sheeva couldn¡¯t answer¡­but could she risk intentionally allowing their paths to cross?

    ¡°Here you are, ma¡¯am: a twenty-eighty mix of feverfew and yarrow root. Do you need anything else?¡± She asked.

    Sheeva had expected to see a solid block of powdered herbs that she would have to pinch and tuck in her lip like Tarrakkian tobacco.  Instead, it had been packed and pressed into individual, cubic-centimeter-pellets that could be simply popped in the mouth, crushed, and swallowed down with water.

    ¡°Hm. Not at this moment, but I may be back later,¡± She answered, reaching into her pocket for her coin purse and pulling out a silver, ten-Inue coin. She dropped it into the lady¡¯s outstretched hand, then waited for the change, trying to ignore the reminder of how, when shoveling the coin purse into Tazaro¡¯s hands, he seemed to be toying with her in such a¡­uniquely exciting way. The visible amusement on his face had stirred something equally amusing, and she recognized it as the same riling amusement she had whenever she visited the temple medic, Ivan Marx.

    In their late teens Cassie would often tease Sheeva about the budding crush she had on the twenty-six-year-old man thanks to his kind smile, salt-and-pepper-hair, and gorgeous eyes. After much thought, Sheeva realized she likely only felt so attracted to the man because he had patiently stitched her up time and time again. He had tended to her wounds with a gentle touch and soft voice that she had never received nor heard before, save for the short interactions between her and Rose as she carried her from the steps to the medical wing.

    Any lonely person would have found themselves drawn.

    ¡°Thank you for your business, ma¡¯am. May the mountain always be visible,¡± The lady smiled, stating a common phrase for those of Pacemian descent and inadvertently reminding Sheeva that she had changed her eye color to purple.

    ¡°Ah, yes. And¡­for you, as well,¡± She tipped her head, turning heel and heading towards the door, wondering if the response was at all what should have been said.

    Exiting the shop, she rubbed at her eyes as they burned, then scratched at her cheeks as they itched from the warm buzz that spilled over her face. She sniffled, then retrieved a handkerchief to blow her nose, apparently irritated by the funguar spores lingering in the stuffy shop. She briefly considered suggesting that the woman cover the potentially hazardous spouts of the motile fungi with a mesh to capture their spores, or to flat-out plugged the things up with a cork¡­though that would make them whine and chitter in anger.

    As she made her way down the main cobblestone street towards the run-down house on Dekkir Street, Sheeva found herself distracted, still musing on how oddly relaxed she felt in Tazaro¡¯s company, especially lax enough to sleep, and how thankful she was for his generosity.

    Eager to shove it from her mind in order to refrain from getting her hopes up, like she had for the young battalion leader in Teafshire, she wished to focus more on ensuring everyone¡¯s overall safety instead. Sheeva shook her head as she thought: everyone, or just Tazaro? and waved the matter off with a hand¨Caccidentally knocking a man¡¯s hat off in the process as he passed her.

    What bothered her most was not the malodorous potpourri of rotting onion, but the distinct, derogatory phrase he barked of: watch where you¡¯re going, Cruinian svruhna!

    Shocked and alarmed at the stranger¡¯s apparent knowledge of her heritage more than the insult towards promiscuity, she looked back to see where he had gone, wishing to question him as to how he knew her true face since she habitually altered her appearance. She couldn¡¯t see him among the crowd, and, considering the stench, he would be easy to spot since anyone would have given the man a rather wide berth.

    Not seeing any such clearing form in the large crowd, Sheeva looked up the street, then towards the cafe to see if he had ducked inside it¡­then spotted her reflection in the windowpane. Her eyes had faded from purple to red, and her hair had changed back into its black locks, pulled into a ponytail by way of her favored red ribbon.

    She scoffed at herself, shook her head, closed her eyes, and hid her hand beneath her cloak as she recast her disguising spell, though only to hide her eyes; the sudden change of hair color would be much more noticeable than the subtlety of someone¡¯s eye color.

    However, she froze when she opened her eyes and examined her work, then the surroundings behind her in the glass.

    In the reflection and off in the distance, there he stood: Llyud Halma, with that tall, thin stature, wiry, greasy black hair, those wild, yellow eyes, that long, crooked nose, and that damned smirk.

    She wheeled around just in time for a gaggle of giggling gossip girls to cross before her vision, talking behind frilly, lacy fans and pinned into a vertical ¡°swan pose¡± by ridiculous, restricting corsets. Naturally, they would happen to be walking down across the way at that moment. She ignored the squabbles of ¡°Oh my!¡± and ¡°How rude!¡± as she pushed through, likely knocking one over onto her behind.

    If she had bowled someone over, Sheeva didn¡¯t bother to look.

    By the time she reached the other side of the street, Llyud was nowhere to be found. Looking to her left, there was no way he would have headed that way, direction blocked by the fenced-off pen of live cluckatrice pecking away at grubs on the ground. She looked to the right, where the street stretched towards the center plaza.

    She took off, peering ahead to see if she could spot him, but, unable to find his stature among the sparse people heading towards the shrine for Lucassen, the Bard God, she figured he had dashed off into an alleyway. Eyeing the first one she came to, she took a brave chance and headed down it, though there was no one to originally be found.

    If Llyud had come this way, he must have already reached the other side.

    Sheeva hurried through, and as she passed a dead-end strip, she skidded to a halt and heard him call out to her with a taunting: ¡°Ope, ya almost got me!¡± Drawing Abraxas, she peered cautiously around the corner, scanning the dead-end alley with caution. There was nothing there but dust bins and scattered trash blown about by the wind.

    ¡°Boo! Behind you!¡± She heard, with an airy laugh and a sweet stench of more trash.

    Immediately, she wheeled around with a high strike, aiming to slash across his face, but only swiped at air.

    The other side of the dead-end alley greeted her, filled with more dustbins lined against the back wall and rotting food by the entrance, lumped into a pile.

    ¡°Tee-hee, over here!¡± She heard to her right, and as she whipped her head in the direction, she saw nothing and doubted that Llyud would simply double back just to taunt her.

    She scoffed at herself; who was she kidding?

    Llyud would certainly waste time with an escape by doubling back because: ¡°Oh, how I love to gloat, loser!¡±

    The whole cross-alley was nothing but dustbins and trash¨Cand despite the Eastern Quarter¡¯s outward cleanliness, it seemed their willingness to simply put their crap in the bins bordered on an incapability.

    As she felt the itchiness of her eyes, again, Sheeva rubbed at them, then leaned against the wall, feeling tired. She tried to work herself through her confusion.

    With the height of the buildings, Llyud wouldn¡¯t have time to scale them, and even if he somehow had wings, it would still take time to unveil them and flap hard enough to get away in the mere seconds it had taken her to give chase. She had been far too close on his heels for him to have simply run out of sight, which seemingly left her with only one option.

    ¡°I must be hallucinating,¡± She muttered, looking up at the sky in hopes that she was wrong. Was it even possible for someone to want something so badly they started imagining things?

    Sheeva shook her head in denial.

    Maybe, she¡¯d been changing her eyes too much, and the possible side effects were hallucinations, considering she had set up wards on the shrines around the city, linked to crudely-chiseled charms that she had worked on while unable to properly sleep. In all honesty, chiseling a look-alike symbol to the ones she etched into the statues was Tazaro¡¯s idea, and Sheeva felt a little sheepish; had she thought of the same idea before placing the wards in the homes and the workshop, perhaps she could have literally saved her own skin.

    Of course, whether or not the sigils shining on her skin were a permanent fixture was anyone¡¯s guess.

    Frustrated, she kicked at a pile of trash, lobbing a clump of rotten fruits and vegetables across the way.

    ¡°No, no,¡± She blurted, clenching her fists in irritation as her face scrunched. With a heavy sigh, she relaxed, and rubbed at her tired eyes again. ¡°Come on, get your shit together.¡±

    Still, being so riled up had her worried, and she decided to head back to Southgate and check in on everyone, though no one had left their respective buildings; the children were still in the abandoned house, Mildred and Tyler were still at home, and Tazaro was still in the workshop.

    Being that the abandoned house on Dekkir Street was the closest of the three and that she was already dropping off menstrual relief medication to Sophia anyway, Sheeva headed for the place, keeping a watchful eye over her shoulder and around her surroundings.

    She knocked on the door of the creaky house, and waited. Arc¡¯s voice sounded from inside this time as he spoke their passphrase: Where do the Tinker Owls roost? Relieved that they took care to follow her instructions, paranoid as she might seem, Sheeva responded with the answer: In the belfry of the clocktower.

    As the locks inside clicked and the door swung open, Sheeva allowed her smile to break through, and felt herself visibly relax as the muscles in her back seemed to unwind.

    ¡°Thank you, Arc, for continuing to be so diligent,¡± She complimented, shrugging off her pack and setting it on the floor. She knelt down to rummage through it for the pain medicine, as well as the clean set of menstrual rags she had bought from another store. These were of higher quality: soft, strong, and with a new bonus; disposable, though they could be washed if need be.

    ¡°Where is Sophia? How is she feeling?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Upstairs, miss. She¡¯s resting. Said she wanted to be away from everyone else for a while,¡± Arc answered, seeming worried.

    Sheeva patted him on the head and pulled him close for a one-armed hug.

    ¡°I am not surprised,¡± Sheeva muttered with a sympathetic chuckle. ¡°But, that¡¯s okay. It¡¯s nothing you or the others have done. She may just be feeling¡­embarrassed,¡± Sheeva decided, recalling how she had felt about it at first.

    Oh, how mortifyingly awkward puberty had been.

    She headed up the steps and checked in the first room, then the second, then the last, finding Sophia curled up on a mattress and likely pouting, back turned to the door.

    ¡°Go away!¡± Sophia grumbled.

    Sheeva did not take offense, and stood her ground.

    ¡°It¡¯s just me, dearie,¡± She announced, then pursed her lips at herself.

    To assume such a role seemed as natural as breathing, and it made her somewhat uncomfortable.

    ¡°Ah, but, uh, I have brought you some things to help. Medicine, specifically for these times, and¡­these,¡± She answered, lifting the items in question. Sophia sat up and turned to Sheeva, but didn¡¯t look at her, still seeming just as embarrassed as she pouted at the floor.

    ¡°Here, start with eating this.¡± Sheeva offered a cube, which she dropped into Sophia¡¯s hand. ¡°Just take one to deal with the pain, and wait a while for your body to start digesting it. That should help. When you run out and you need more, ask at an apothecary for a twenty-eighty ratio of feverfew and yarrow root.¡±

    Putting aside her own discomfort, Sheeva comforted Sophia, the young woman¡¯s head resting in her lap as she softly sang the lullabye Rose would sing to her, and it soothed the ache of longing she felt, wishing Rose had been there to comfort her while she was experience the shocking changes to her own body.

    Eventually, Sophia fell asleep, and after carefully tucking her into bed, Sheeva left and meandered down the stairs. Placated and finding a sense of fulfillment, it didn¡¯t bother her when the others swarmed in worry, and she gently assured that everything would be fine.

    Once the commotion had died down and Sheeva had distracted them by urging them to continue to learn to write and read, she found herself relaxed enough to reflect on what had happened on the streets earlier in the day, still certain she had simply imagined things.

    If she was not imagining things, however, the charms system Tazaro had suggested probably wasn¡¯t going to work, though it wasn¡¯t the end of the world. Many times while developing spells she tried and failed, revised, and tried and failed again, and couldn¡¯t begin to fathom how many mud, stick, and grass creatures she had accidentally exploded when first learning to cast her Familiar spell. Had she been working with real subjects, she would not have gone as far as she did to test what she could and could not do.

    A giggling brought her out of thought, and she looked to Yelena, wondering what could have been so amusing, considering she herself had been bored to death of tracing the same letter over and over and over again.

    ¡°What is so funny?¡± She asked.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Josef asked.

    ¡°Yelena was giggling at something,¡± Sheeva answered.

    ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t,¡± Yelena pointed out, pausing in her work.

    ¡°Oh? No? You weren¡¯t?¡± Sheeva asked, listening hard. As she heard it again, she looked at them to see if they heard it, too. Apparently, they had, as they looked among each other in confusion.

    She stood, and stepped towards the stairs, listening to see if the eerie giggling was coming from Sophia¡¯s room, upstairs. As the noise sounded to her left, she looked towards the direction. There wasn¡¯t anyone in the kitchen, and as the door to the bathroom was still open, there wasn¡¯t anyone in there, either. When a humming of a lullaby that tugged at familiarity began to sound out from the door beneath the stairs that led to the cellar, Sheeva curiously pressed her ear to the door to affirm that she was, indeed, hearing the haunting tune.

    ¡°Beware The Bunghee Dog, so large and grey,

    Don¡¯t misbehave, or he¡¯ll take you away!

    He lingers in graveyards and sand dunes to prey

    On the wee little children that dare but to stray!

    With eyes like blood, he¡¯ll make you bleed yours

    Galloping towards you on all of his fours!

    He¡¯ll take you, and eat you, and do it with glee,¡±

    ¡°...when he drags your body ¡®neath the Wild Fig Tree,¡± Sheeva finished, feeling her stomach churn with terror¡¯s grip as she recalled the sing-songy melody that, if her birth mother happened to have a good day, would gather her and her siblings together to sing.

    ¡°Pshh, What is the Bunghee dog?¡± Josef asked as he scoffed at the lullaby. ¡°Some type of monster they sing about to threaten kids who don¡¯t go to bed on time?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s¨C¡± Sheeva began, then stopped, trying to shake the reminder of her birth mother tickling her and her siblings as she barked ¡°take you!¡± and ¡°eat you!¡± and ¡°do it with glee!¡±

    She shook her head to clear the reminder that, perhaps things hadn¡¯t always been bad, though a handful of times certainly did not outweigh, nor begin to counter, all the twisted abuse that had been done.

    She couldn¡¯t say it, but, according to her birth mother, The Bunghee Dog was an omen of death. A black, shaggy-haired dog as large as a bearog that could close a mile distance with only a couple bounds, and leap into tall buildings at a simple jump, and, should one ever cross paths, they were to be cautious of the color of its beady eyes. If they were yellow, all was safe, and no harm would come to pass. If they were red, however, it was a sign that someone that you knew, or ¡°maybe even you,¡± was marked to die.

    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. A monster that people tell their children about to get them to behave,¡± Sheeva dismissed.

    ¡°Tee-hee! I¡¯m gonna get you!¡± The voice continued in a singsongy way that unnerved Sheeva greatly.

    Sheeva sucked in a breath and shivered as she backed away from the door, heart pounding in her chest as memory sent her reeling. Still, as whatever little girl was singing in the cellar began to repeat the song, there was no doubt in any of their minds that someone else was in the house.

    Sheeva stole a glance at the sigil on the wall. It was still intact, and hadn¡¯t been chipped or scuffed in any way. Considering there was no incessant buzzing in her ear, the chance that the alarm was still enacted was unlikely. She wondered if the potency of her magic had faded over the month it had been since she¡¯d placed it, and realized the thing might actually need some form of upkeep or recharge.

    Summoning courage while trying not to think about the cold, musty cellar or the hardness of wooden flooring on her frail, malnourished, five-year-old self, Sheeva reached for the handle and opened the door, staring into the darkness. She paused, then looked at the children.

    Did any of you let someone in? She mouthed sternly, feeling the terseness of her brow as her eyes hardened. They adamantly shook their heads ¡°no,¡± all of them appearing just as weirded out as she felt.

    Whipping her head back to the stairs as the sounds of footsteps charged up them, Sheeva backed off and stepped between the intruder and the children, arms outstretched as she ushered them behind her as well as she could to shield.

    ¡°Boo!¡± Cecilia, with her blue dress, blonde hair, and orange eyes barked as she pounced out of the cellar in a fit of giggles. It elicited an estranged mix of terror and surprise from Sheeva as she further tucked the children back and flinched.

    ¡°Tee-hee, I got you, didn¡¯t I? I told you I would get you!¡± The child laughed.

    Sheeva shook her head and stood up, advancing in bounds as she reached for the child¡¯s arm.

    ¡°Get out!¡± Sheeva barked, angered as her heart pounded in her chest. ¡°You cannot be in here!¡±

    Sheeva stopped upon realizing what she¡¯d said.

    ¡°No, wait: you cannot be in here. How did you-how did you get in?¡± She questioned.

    Cecilia giggled again, and the noise grated on Sheeva¡¯s ears and sent a shiver of unrest down her spine.

    ¡°Through the back door, silly!¡± She responded.

    Sheeva looked at the back door, and saw a muddy track of footprints leading toward the cellar door.

    Furious, Sheeva marched towards the back door.

    ¡°Leave,¡± Sheeva ordered. ¡°And don¡¯t ever step foot in this house again. If you do, child, I¡¯ll tell your parents, and if they do nothing, so help me, I will punish you.¡±

    ¡°But I just wanted to play¨C

    Sheeva yanked the child out onto the porch, rudely shut the door in the child¡¯s face, and brushed off the dust from her hand onto her pants.

    ¨Caw, pooey,¡± She heard behind the door before the child stormed off.

    Trying to ignore the feeling of guilt for possibly harming the child, Sheeva took several deep breaths to calm herself down.

    ¡°I am sorry you had to see that,¡± She apologized, unable to look the other children in the eye.

    ¡°N-no, ma¡¯am. We were¨Cwe understand. We don¡¯t know how she got in,¡± Arc explained. "And, we wouldn''t have let her in, anyway. She gives Josef and me the creeps," Nook answered. Sheeva chuckled lightly.

    "After that singing, me too," She admitted.

    Trying to put the reminder of the nursery rhyme out of her head, Sheeva stared at the sigil on the wall, inspecting it even more closely. Sure enough, there were no nicks, scratches, or blemishes, though the blood had long dried and become a shade of brown, supporting Sheeva¡¯s idea that the thing would need to be charged every once in a while.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, miss?¡± Josef asked, stepping closer to inspect the sigil, too. ¡°We haven¡¯t touched this, I swear. Nor did we let Cecilia in, either. We haven¡¯t seen her since you shooed her away that day¨Cnot since you made us promise. We¡¯ve held to that promise, miss, I swear,¡± He explained.

    Sheeva slowly nodded, fully believing him, considering she had checked in at random times with the bird that Tazaro had come to call ¡°Pteryx,¡± and aside from that one day, it seemed they had followed her instructions without fail.

    "I believe you, Josef. I just thought that perhaps I need to recharge the sigil from time to time¨Clike replacing a worn piece of clothing." She explained.

    Hoping it would work, Sheeva pressed her hand to the sigil and focused. From her feet to the palm pressed against the cool wall, she felt a body-wide tingle, flash of warmth, then a quick-chill as the energy she channeled transferred into the sigil. The same, secure blue ooze spilled over the walls and along the ceiling and floors to cover the house again.

    The drain brought her to a knee but did not make her faint as it had the first time, and as she breathed through her sudden dizziness, the others surrounded her, eager to assist. She waved her hand to show that she was fine, stood, and headed for the front door.

    ¡°If these wards need upkeep, I¡¯ll need to recharge the other wards I have placed, so I¡¯m going to go do that. I will be back by the end of the evening, and if I¡¯m, uh, too weak to move, I¡¯ll send a bird and have it peck at the window three times.¡± Sheeva announced, stooping to rummage through her bag for her energy pills. She popped one into her mouth, then pocketed a few, figuring that she would need them for such rapid, costly spellcasting.

    ¡°A bird? You have a pet, miss?¡± Yelena asked excitedly. It broke through Sheeva¡¯s worry, and she chuckled at herself.

    ¡°Hm. In a way,¡± She murmured mysteriously. ¡°Suppose you may call it, uh, Pteryx.¡±

    Before they could hold her any longer, Sheeva bid herself goodbye and backtracked towards Mildred¡¯s house. The sigil in the frame was a bit of a reach, but Sheeva used the excuse of returning the spare key to the clasp tucked beneath the welcome sign hanging above their front door when Tyler popped his head out and asked her what she was doing.

    By the time she reached Tazaro¡¯s apartment, it was already dark, and as the yellow sigil flashed, she waited outside while Tazaro¡¯s roommate, Vincent, left for his evening shift at the hospital. With a quick hop and a couple of hard flaps, Sheeva caught the third-floor rail to their balcony and climbed over it, replenished the sigil¡¯s energy reserve there, then climbed back over and leapt down, slowing her fall with a spread of her wings to catch air.

    Naturally, Tazaro was in the workshop, stating that he was ¡°almost done¡± with the Stargazer, though seemed content putting down his tools to accompany and learn more about how spellcasting worked. She allowed herself a short break, enjoying the conversation and snacks they shared while listening to a sweet, cheery piano tune from the old phonograph popping and clicking nearby, though any lull in conversation had her thinking about the events earlier in the day and feeling frustrated about them.

    Upon pointing out that his charms idea might not have worked, Tazaro seemed bummed, but it didn¡¯t seem to stop him as he suggested other reasons why it might not have worked or what could be done differently ¡°next time.¡±

    Though she could have chosen to fly, Sheeva walked back to the abandoned house on Dekkir Street, unwilling to become dizzy and crash into a brick chimney. The children were all asleep, save for Josef, who was attempting to read by the dim glow of embers from the fireplace as he kept watch for the evening. Sheeva took some time to help him, casting her light orb to better illuminate the book he was squinting at.

    After curling up at the foot of the large mattress that the children still shared, Sheeva fell asleep quickly, exhausted.

    <hr>

    A couple of weeks had passed since Sheeva thought she saw Llyud in the Eastern Quarters, and, with a growing number of disturbances in Southgate, Sheeva concentrated her efforts there. With sightings being so close to the Chorea family home, the Abandoned House on Dekkir Street, and Rin¡¯s Workshop, it made Sheeva nervous. Starting from the beginning, she began to revisit all the bars, shops, shrines, and various streets of the southern part of Roussell.

    A late, springtime rain drizzled the streets, but with her even-layered, full-body shield, Sheeva didn¡¯t notice the extra moisture as she stepped into the street from beneath the cover of the Chorea family''s home.

    The maze was no longer daunting, and she quickly made her way towards the plaza. Glancing at the windows to the workshop, she noted that it was dark, though recalled feeling the tingle in her arm as Rin left, followed by Tazaro, though much earlier than usual.

    Given the time, Sheeva thought as she checked her pocket watch, he should be arriving home within half an hour.

    She wouldn''t need to worry, she felt.

    "The Red Stallion" was the first bar she had searched, and, like "The Green Lantern," had a red-tinted glass cover, though not one used to notify the borders of the "Sinner''s Corridor"--that she still had not checked out, embarrassed about overhearing the cacophony of love making.

    Pulling back her hood, Sheeva stepped inside, ready and eager to confront if need be. Ducking to the right to scan the room, she found more of the same things she was accustomed to for a bar: drunken singing patrons, those that practically lived in the bar sitting on stools or in corners, and others playing cards or chatting with themselves.

    A sudden ruckus snared her attention, and as she looked towards it, found herself surprised to see who was among the small group sitting in a booth towards the back wall.

    Across the way and unaware they were being observed, Micah swore and Vincent groaned in irritation about another loss in a round of poker, while Tazaro smirked pridefully. After gulping his fill in congratulations to himself, he set his drink down, though a little more unceremoniously than he should have, and began to count the pile of coins he¡¯d amassed from the last round of poker.

    Twenty, thirty, forty, and finally: forty-six Inue clinked into his satchel, all in denominations of copper five-pieces or fewer, and as it added a substantial weight to the bag that already threatened to burst at the seams, he made a note to trade in what he could for larger denominations at the bank. Long, slender fingers pulled the weathered drawstring tight and tied it off, a piece of medical tape bandaging his pointer finger, currently recovering from a gnarly split thanks to a slip of his chisel.

    ¡°Shit, I should know better than to play this with you; you¡¯re too good at this, man! You¡¯ve bluffed your way through almost every round and still managed to psyche us out! I swear your poker face has gotten better,¡± Micah grunted, though, with the softened inflection to his voice, Tazaro could tell he¡¯d impressed his childhood friend.

    ¡°You should know better than to play against him by now, Micah,¡± Vincent stated as he reached for the deck and shuffled the beaten cards. They no longer snapped together in a nice, neat way, but instead, tended to fall out of place as they shifted together, and, as they did just that, Vincent groaned and tried again. The physician¡¯s second attempt was a neater shuffle, and as he piled them into an orderly stack, he set it close to Tazaro.

    ¡°Cut the deck¡ªand don¡¯t do that ridiculous¡ªVincent stopped as Tazaro did just the thing that he was about to protest; flick the top card of the deck with his middle finger and call it a ¡°cut¡± with a knowing smirk on his face.

    ¡°Ugh, I hate it when you do that! It¡¯s not an actual cut of the deck! It doesn¡¯t count!¡± He sighed, sitting back in his chair and grabbing up the deck in annoyance to deal the next round.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    ¡°Sure, that¡¯s kinda frustrating, but does it piss you off more than the fact that he just took two days¡¯ worth of pay from both of us? Because that just fuckin'' happened.¡± Micah asked, sighing in defeat. At least he had the next few months¡¯ worth of bills paid ahead and could afford the minor loss.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, guys. If I get rich from the Stargazer, I¡¯ll be sure to pay you back for this,¡± Tazaro promised. "Consider it a healthy investment!"

    He picked up the new cards, thought about them, and set them down again. This must be the hand equivalent of a critical fail.

    ¡°Raise,¡± He commented, curious to see if he could get by with the hand of absolute crap.

    ¡°Yeah, well, promise to show us how it works when it¡¯s not rain¨C

    ¡°Ah, so you don¡¯t spend all your time in the workshop, it seems,¡± A familiar voice said, causing Tazaro¡¯s stomach to flip and his stoic face to break. He quickly composed himself and looked; Sheeva stood at the end of the table with a passive smile¨Cthough those that didn¡¯t know her as well as he barely did, they might say she was frowning. It showed more in the calmness of her eyes, currently not steeled into a hawk-eyed stare.

    ¡°Hah! Only ¡®cuz we had to drag him out of there!¡± Micah commented. ¡°Nice to see you again, Your Highness!¡±

    Sheeva¡¯s previously passive expression fell into one of annoyance, and she groaned.

    ¡°Ugh, not you, too,¡± she grumbled in a pout that Tazaro found cute. ¡°Stop calling me that,¡± she asked sternly. Micah nodded and sat back a little from his lean on the table.

    ¡°Gotcha¡­Warrior-girl,¡± He muttered under his breath.

    The unamused expression deadpanned across her face, and she sighed.

    Suppose that¡¯s better, and as long as it¡¯s not ¡°Drools,¡± I suppose that is fine, too.

    She tsked in dismissal, not about to verbally acknowledge the nickname. Noticing the silent stranger, though recognizing him as Vincent, Tazaro¡¯s roommate, she stepped forward a little closer to the table in order to reach across with an extended hand.

    ¡°We haven¡¯t met yet, but Tazaro has mentioned you. The name¡¯s Sheeva,¡± She stressed, directing a look toward Micah, who flashed her a smile. ¡°Sheeva Jules.¡±

    Eager to witness the surprisingly firm handshake for himself, Vincent reached and accepted the shake. Indeed, the shake was different, as were the unusually pointy incisors, unnatural curvature of her pupils nested in plum-colored irises, and the rounded pointedness of her ears, peeking out beneath long black hair.

    ¡°Hm, nice to meet you. Oh¨Cexcuse me, I meant to say: Slavgor oui.¡± He smiled, trying to mind his manners and use the responses of other Pacemians that he¡¯d had to treat on occasion.

    ¡°Ah. Tam, slavgor¡­oui,¡± Sheeva repeated, though she didn¡¯t know what the phrase meant nor what to say in response, figuring it to simply be a generalized greeting in Pacemian.

    Vincent¡¯s eyes narrowed in curiosity as he sat back, grabbed his wine, and sipped, thinking to himself.

    From what I understand, Pacemians are supposed to respond with ¡°Gora bendicia oui.¡± Anyone who¡¯s grown up in the culture would know that. I get the feeling you aren¡¯t who you say you are.

    ¡°This is¡­¡± Sheeva paused, looking at the drinks scattered around the table. ¡°A lot,¡± She commented. With so many sightings and whispers of Llyud, she was concerned, and felt the safest places Tazaro could be were anywhere with a warding spell that had been authorized to let him be there. ¡°I did not meant to interrupt you. If you¡¯re celebrating something, I shall take my¨C

    ¨CNo, not at all! I finished building the Stargazer yesterday, but it was raining, so I didn¡¯t get to check it out, and tonight, these guys pretty much kidnapped me for celebration,¡± He explained. ¡°Plus, it¡¯s still raining, so...¡± He trailed off, realizing he couldn¡¯t exactly ask Sheeva to be the first to check it out with him in front of his two friends, who¡¯d just been telling him that they wanted to see the machine in action.

    ¡°Oh, you finished it?¡± Sheeva asked, visibly pleased. The last time she had checked up on the progress, it had been covered with a sheet, so she assumed it was still being constructed.

    ¡°I did!¡± He boasted, feeling the grin span his face. ¡°Didn¡¯t sleep for shit, and nearly tore out half of my hair, but who needs sleep when you have a fuck-tonne of tea and a ninja to scare the hell out of you to keep you awake?¡±

    Sheeva chuckled and shook her head. Despite the method, a goal completed was a goal completed. She smiled, pleased that he had finished the goal he had set out to achieve.

    ¡°Congratulations. Maybe now you can see the skies up close. Enjoy it.¡± Sheeva suggested. ¡°It¡¯s really¡­something.¡±

    However, now that he wouldn¡¯t have much reason to be in the woodworker¡¯s shop so late into the evening, their frequent visits might end, and she felt her spirits drop as she realized so. They lifted slightly upon deciding she would make another excuse to see him outside of the weekly family dinners that they shared.

    Feeling the tingle of the rose sigil, Sheeva crossed her arms, distracted by the reminder. Tyler and Jax were likely leaving for their cover of a coworker¡¯s evening shift.

    Tazaro tsked, thinking that because he was done with the project, if touring the skies wouldn¡¯t be of much interest to Sheeva, she would be ¡°checking in¡± on him less and less. He inwardly snorted at himself; he had a plethora of things to make from his old sketchbook, including an upgrade to bastardly printing presses.

    ¡°Y¡¯know, I was, uh, thinking about getting started on one of the other projects, too, so¨Cif you want to, uh¡­¡± Tazaro paused, realizing he was in the company of friends and that he hadn¡¯t exactly told either of them that she would visit occasionally. They would nag at him for days about details.

    Though he couldn''t hear what was being said over the noisy chatter of the group behind them, the seriousness of Sheeva¡¯s face made Vincent wonder just how much she¡¯d been running herself ragged by chasing Llyud.

    ¡°Pardon my saying so, but you seem tired. We¡¯ll be here all night if you want to take a break,¡± Vincent offered, catching glances with Micah, then slightly tipping his head toward Tazaro.

    ¡°Oh, all night?¡± Tazaro turned to look at Vincent, feeling like he¡¯d been swindled into staying longer than he¡¯d initially agreed to. ¡°I thought we were just gonna be a couple¨CTazaro¡¯s eyes widened and he grunted out a held-back ¡°hrng?!¡± of pain as Micah kicked his shin with a steel-toed boot under the table. The angry scowl on Tazaro¡¯s face was quickly replaced by a furtive look as Micah gave him a look with a curled eyebrow, suggesting he just ¡°go with it.¡±

    ¡°Uh, of course! Sure! Here all night!¡± Tazaro agreed nervously.

    Sheeva¡¯s own smirk broke before she could stop it, amused. Tazaro¡¯s friends badgered him like Cassie and Kyle had badgered her.

    ¡°Suppose I may join your motley crew, but first I should take a look at the notice board,¡± She agreed, stepping away to do so. She barely heard Micah ask: "what are we, a band?"

    She took down the newspaper hanging in the corner, opened it, and scanned its pages for anything mysterious, meanwhile, pleased. At his suggestion that he might start building something else, they might continue meeting as they had been.

    Maybe, she might even garner enough courage to take his face in her hands and kiss him, still embarrassed at the striking bout of cold feet she had gotten a few weeks ago.

    Fuck¡¯s sake, Sheeva. ¡°Denial of Magic.¡± Really, of all the ridiculous things¡­

    At least she had the undisclosed fact tucked in her back pocket, but if she found herself in such a situation again, she would have no choice but to face it.

    As soon as Sheeva was out of earshot, Tazaro turned to Micah and shoved Micah¡¯s foot with his.

    ¡°Dude, did you have to break my shin? Tok za vilg, man!¡± He hissed, rubbing at the sore and now likely bruised limb. He lifted his pantleg to see, and a rosy red mark shined back at him. ¡°What the fuck?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s just a flesh wound,¡± Micah brushed off with a snicker. ¡°Anyway¡­you two get along well, don¡¯t you? Ask her to check that Star¡­machine¨C

    ¨CStargazer,¡± Vincent interrupted in correction.

    ¡°Aye, that. Stargazer. Ask her to check it out with you first,¡± Micah insisted.

    ¡°Wh-but, I thought you guys wanted to¨C

    ¨CBah, don¡¯t worry about it. We can see it afterward. But, uh, I guess since she¡¯s the one who originally inspired you to¨C

    ¨CFeh! You assume so,¡± Tazaro tried to butt in, but found himself bowled over as Micah continued to speak.

    ¨Cmake the thing in the first place and has apparently visited you¨Cwhich you never told us about¨C

    ¨C¡¯Cuz you would just sit there and tease me,¡± Tazaro countered, but was again bowled over.

    ¨Cso how dare you, first of all, and second of all, don¡¯t mess this up.¡± Micah insisted.

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna have to agree with him, Taz. You let this slip, you¡¯re not gonna get another chance in a million years. You should have seen your face; you lit up, man!¡±

    ¡°I thought that maybe I had,¡± He admitted as he fidgeted with the condensation on his glass before he picked it up and finished the last swig. ¡°I was gonna kiss her. We were alone, having a nice time, had her hand in mine; a perfect setup,¡± He mumbled, spinning the now empty glass around a pivot on its base.

    ¡°So why didn¡¯t you?¡± Micah questioned. Tazaro looked up at his longtime friend, slightly dazed, though not from the alcohol. Rather, the memory of staring into the ball of light hovering above her palm was something he would never forget. It also didn¡¯t help that mass amounts of explanations he received about Sheeva¡¯s trial-and-error methods for magic were rapidly firing, along with a flash of memory at her flummoxed blush as she looked away while being so close.

    ¡°I-I got cold feet and chickened out,¡± He lied, glancing across the way to see where Sheeva was. She was interrogating someone at a table a couple spots over.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Micah replied, recalling one of his more awkward fumbles. ¡°Well, at least she still wants to talk to you!¡± He offered to cheer Tazaro up.

    Tazaro chuckled.

    ¡°Yeah, no, I¡¯m fine. Thanks, though¨Cappreciate you trying to cheer me up.¡±

    Micah opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped as Sheeva approached the table once more. Dismissing what he was about to say, Micah stood and announced he was going to use the restroom, then offered Sheeva his seat, giving Tazaro a wink behind Sheeva¡¯s back.

    Tazaro barely opened his mouth before Vincent spoke up.

    ¡°You know, I could have sworn your eyes were plum-colored, but I can clearly see I was wrong. Care to share?¡± He asked, thin lips curling into a knowing smile as he eyed her behind thin-framed spectacles. The Ivan Marx look-alike had Sheeva on the spot, and her eyes widened briefly as her nerves spiked.

    ¡°It is just a trick of the light,¡± She dismissed.

    ¡°Trick of the light,¡± Tazaro offered.

    Vincent glanced between the two upon their jinx, then squinted his eyes in disbelief.

    ¡°No¡­really. It¡¯s a trick of the light. When it¡¯s bright, they look purple. When it¡¯s dark they look red. Right?¡± Tazaro asked, nudging her foot beneath the table with his. ¡°The perks of having mixed parents, huh?¡± He shrugged with a smile.

    Sheeva¡¯s eyes softened from a previously steely what-the-fuck-are-you-doing look as she slowly picked up on his suggestion.

    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t appreciate you bringing my parents into this, but¡­yes.¡± She nodded slowly, though frowning. ¡°My mother was Cruinian, and my father was¨C

    ¨CPacemian?¡± Vincent finished.

    Tazaro caught her eye and winked, and Sheeva scoffed, realizing what he¡¯d been trying to do. Two could play at this game, and perhaps, he¡¯d witness first-hand the dismissal she put up with on the day-to-day.

    ¡°A Ta¡¯hal,¡± She corrected, locking eyes with Tazaro, who looked back in shock.

    When Vincent began to chuckle, both of them looked at him.

    ¡°That¡¯s a harsh way of saying your father¡¯s a bastard¨Ccomparing him to something that doesn¡¯t exist! Hah! I¡¯ll have to use that sometime!¡± Vincent commented, finishing off the last of his drink.

    Sheeva gave Tazaro a look as if to say see what I mean?

    ¡°Well, that explains why you didn¡¯t know to say ¡®Gora bendicia oui¨CMountain¡¯s blessings.¡¯ I hear their culture is tight-knit, and ingrained in them as soon as they can walk.¡±

    Sheeva narrowed her eyes, realizing she¡¯d been put to a silent test, and seriously began to reconsider her typical disguise, or to at least shadow and study a Pacemian caravan the next time she came across one.

    ¡°I¡¯m gonna go get us another round, and one for you, Sheeva, if you¡¯d like?¡± Vincent offered, standing and pausing.

    ¡°Please,¡± She answered. ¡°And, thank you,¡± She added, resting her chin in her hand to hide her pursed, disappointed frown.

    Vincent nodded and sauntered over to the bar to talk up the bartender. He glanced over his shoulder, witnessing the start of a hushed, angry conversation as Sheeva hissed something at Tazaro. Figuring it to be her not appreciating Tazaro airing her family affairs, Vincent turned back and waited while the bartender poured drinks for an order rung in by the waitress.

    ¡°What the fuck are you doing? Are you insane, Tazaro? You can¡¯t just tell people that! What am I gonna do, give them proof? For fuck¡¯s sake!¡± Sheeva hissed, giving him a glowering look that slightly unnerved him. He didn¡¯t appreciate the look, nor the accusatory tone in her voice.

    ¡°Are you? You¡¯re the one telling him the truth!¡± Tazaro countered, leaning into the conversation.

    ¡°Yeah, and as you saw, no one believes me! They think I¡¯m joking! No one will believe me unless I show them!¡± She hissed back, struggling to keep her voice down to a whisper. ¡°Do not force my hand like this!¡±

    ¡°Well, I was just trying to help!¡± He defended nonchalantly. ¡°Besides, you swindle with darts and arm wrestles, right? Why not swindle with a little magic, too?¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you to¨CSheeva began, then stopped as it dawned on her. ¡°Wait, you were offering a cover-up?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± He said confidently, sitting back and smiling at his cleverness. ¡°A damn good one, too." He explained. Still, as it didn¡¯t seem to soothe her, Tazaro sighed, and leaned back onto the table to drop his voice low in a mutter. "Also¡­once Vincent sniffs something curious, he¡¯ll chase it like a blood hound until you give him a red herring. I had to do something,¡± he explained.

    Flustered with embarrassment, Sheeva found herself stuck.

    ¡°How about a little heads up, next time?¡± She grumbled, sitting back and crossing her arms as she pouted.

    ¡°I tried,¡± He replied, nudging her foot with his once again, causing her to jump, mildly startled, then immediately kick back. He paused, then tilted his head in curiosity. Maybe she really had missed his cue a few weeks ago.

    ¡°Or did that go over your head, too?¡± He taunted, mildly enjoying watching her squirm. The blush that spread across her face was a delight, and it kindled the flame of hope that she had indeed gotten cold feet rather than not being romantically interested in him at all.

    ¡°Vilg ott, Tazaro Chorea,¡± She huffed lightly, shoving at his foot with hers before scooting the chair back to get out of reach.

    "Wow! Childish, aren''t you?" He exclaimed, amused.

    At her insistent silence, Tazaro took no offense, and broke his gaze to look at something across the way. He began to think he would have to be more direct if he were to get his point across¨Cmaybe even utterly blunt, so that she couldn¡¯t pretend she didn¡¯t pick up on it and rather tell him if the answer was really ¡°no.¡±

    Suppose it¡¯s better to know now than to continue playing such a game. I¡¯d rather be harshly rejected than seen as a creep.

    Attempting to shrug off her nerves, Sheeva took a deep breath, and tried to focus on the more pressing matter. While Tazaro¡¯s method to sweep things under the rug was incredibly risky, it seemed to pay off, and well enough that she would have an excuse to tuck away in her back pocket, should she be caught without a disguise.

    ¡°I¡­I guess I should thank you for having my back," she began after a moment. "I really didn¡¯t know what to¨C

    She stopped abruptly as Micah rejoined the table, announcing his presence with a loud, booming: ¡°Hey, what¡¯d I miss?¡± Sheeva''s sigh of annoyance went unnoticed.

    ¡°Our fathers are bastards, and Vincent¡¯s grabbing drinks,¡± Tazaro filled, hiding his smile behind a hand.

    ¡°Oh, yours too, huh? Welcome to the club, though Tyler has been a pretty good stand-in, I think. I look up to him, too,¡± Micah commented. As Sheeva pursed her lips and frowned, Micah clicked his tongue and offered a change of subject.

    ¡°How¡¯s the search going?¡± He asked, hoping she¡¯d had a better time of it now that they had plastered his name all over the place.

    Her lips pursed even more, and she propped her chin in her hand and avoided their gaze.

    ¡°Not well, and I don¡¯t want to talk about that right now,¡± She replied, unwilling to wrestle with the fact that she felt more and more delusional with each missed encounter. In an effort to seem less abrasive, she fished the printed sketch of Llyud from her pocket and set it down, then retrieved the painted sketch for comparison.

    ¡°Though, I do wish you had taken my plight more seriously¨Chis nose has definitely become a diving board for pixies,¡± She huffed, using the bellhop¡¯s description in appreciation.

    Micah snickered.

    ¡°Well, you know¨Cwhile it is funny, it wasn¡¯t without reason. Maybe he sees it and gets so upset, he makes a mistake,¡± Micah explained. ¡°If he¡¯s as full of himself as you told me, he¡¯s bound to screw up, somehow.¡±

    Impressed, Sheeva curled an eyebrow.

    ¡°So it was bait?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Yup,¡± Micah answered, emphasizing the word with a ¡®pop¡¯.

    She chuckled, and sat back, pleased with the possible allies she had made.

    You have dangerously clever friends, Tazaro Chorea.

    ¡°Though, I will say, considering we haven¡¯t seen or heard of anything by now tells me that he¡¯s not here.¡± Micah suggested.

    Sheeva grew taciturn and even more nervous at the understanding that maybe she was just delusional, stood, and made to leave.

    ¡°Pardon me. I may just head out, after all. I think I need to rest for a while,¡± She excused herself, standing to leave.

    Micah caught Tazaro¡¯s eye and tipped his head by way of a silent ¡°go,¡± and Tazaro didn¡¯t need to be suggested twice.

    ¡°You heading home? I¡¯ll walk with you,¡± Tazaro offered, standing as well and snatching his jacket up from the back of the chair.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to¨C

    ¨CAh, let him, Sheeva. You¡¯re so busy protecting us, who¡¯s protecting you?¡± Micah asked with a sly smile.

    Figuring it would be for the better in case the phantom of Llyud did show its face again, Sheeva nodded in acceptance. As they began to walk away, Tazaro glanced back to mouth a ¡°thanks,¡± receiving a smile in return.

    It didn¡¯t seem that the rain had let up at all as they stepped out of the building and onto the main road ¡°The Red¡± was located on. Sheeva casually cast a full-body shield on both herself and Tazaro to keep the cold rain at bay, and walked at a faster pace than normal as she hurried to get back into the safety of the Chorea Family home.

    ¡°Hey, Sheeva, I¨C

    She halted and gave an exasperated sigh.

    ¡°If you¡¯re to apologize for earlier, you can just¡­let it be. I get why you did what you did, and it¡¯s not like¡­¡± She paused, searching for words. ¡°You betrayed any secrets. You just found another way to hide them,¡± She concluded with a shrug of her shoulders as she attempted to dissolve the tension there.

    ¡°It¡¯s over, it¡¯s done, and we¡­now have a way to play this off as a trick, right?¡± She chuckled, feeling slightly optimistic. The more she thought about it, the more apparent it became that it was a sleight she could easily work with.

    ¡°Besides, it is clever, and strangely, I look forward to coming up with new¨C

    She stopped abruptly as she heard the zing of a blade and glanced behind just in time to see a blur rushing for them, fast. Thinking quick, she shoved Tazaro aside, then drew Abraxas to counter and strike, catching something with her blade, but as it came back murky, thought she¡¯d simply slashed a wine-skin. She didn¡¯t have time to scan the attacker for a slashed, dripping wine-skin as he dashed forward with another strike.

    The harsh cry of a blade against blade rang out as she blocked the strike, face-to-face with the yellow-eyed bastard with a crazed look in his eye. The harsh stench on her olfactory senses burned into her nose and stung behind her eyes, and she scrunched her nose in dislike.

    ¡°You smell even worse than you look, you bastard,¡± She coughed, though relishing in the look that reflected his wounded ego.

    ¡°You¡¯re the one who made my nose look so¨Coh, fuck off, it¡¯s not that bad!¡± He sidestepped, and went to slash at her backside, but as she dropped to a knee and swept at his feet to knock him down.

    With a pained grunt, he landed on his back. Sheeva closed the distance and raised the blade above her head, ready to bring it down on him, but as he shot a dark void from his chest, it hit her square in the chest and threw her back, knocking her off of her feet as it sailed her through the air. Abraxas clanged loudly somewhere nearby, but, stunned, she didn¡¯t have time to look as she struggled to sit up.

    Whatever that attack was, it was new, and¡­had she really seen the muscle of his heart beating in his chest like something on display?

    Beyond blurry vision, she briefly saw the flesh of his chest shift back together from whatever attack he¡¯d unleashed, and grimaced in disgust. She managed to stand and find her footing, bracing herself with another full-body shield as he neared on stumbling footsteps, apparently worn out from the dazzling spell.

    If he did it again, perhaps she¡¯d manage to dodge the beam and rip his heart out from his chest.

    He charged again and she blocked with both forearms, ducked an overhead swing, grabbed his arm and yanked it behind him, then attempted to throw him over her shoulders as she would to her childhood rival whenever their bickers escalated into brawls.

    As he rolled over to smack the ground, he kicked at her and tripped her once more.

    Sheeva clawed at him, disturbed by slimy skin, and as she stopped his face from getting closer to hers with an outstretched hand, the force exerted on his eyeball from her thumb was enough to make it squish, like a rotten tomato. She groaned in major disgust, drew back her hand, and punched him in the mouth.

    The crack of a pallet board across Llyud¡¯s back caused him to look from Sheeva to the new contestant, and as Sheeva saw Tazaro¡¯s shoes in her tunnel-blindness, became worried.

    Llyud jumped up and off of Sheeva, staring at the two through one eye while seeming to weigh his options, blood dripping down his face from the other, now a hollow socket. He turned tail and ran.

    Sheeva blinked, then gave chase, trailing the sigil for her roots spell as she pursued. She slapped her hand through, and roots sprung from the ground to clasp at his heels¡­and missed as he jumped out of reach. The roots clutched at air before disappearing back into the ground with nothing to wrap around.

    ¡°Shit!¡± She swore, skidding to a sharp turn as Llyud took a left into an alleyway.

    Sheeva hurried into the thin alley, and as Llyud clambered on top of dustbins to leap the wooden fence midway, Sheeva bore her wings and leapt, too, hoping to gain on him.

    She cried out as she smacked face-first into a barrier that flickered in a bright, fluorescent green, sending a shockwave over her body that caused her wings to still and her body to flop to the ground.

    As the temporary petrification ended, she pushed herself up, and looked at the barrier, then at the ground. She looked up, wondering if there was a height limit to the barrier, and as it stretched into the dark, cloudy heavens like a beam, realized there was no ¡°flying over the top¡± to escape it.

    She had run herself right into a trap.

    ¡°VILG SA!¡± She screamed, getting to her feet and charging at the wall in frustration, channeling as much energy as she could muster into an energy-packed fist. It knocked her back, and as she hit the other side, fell to the ground in a petrified heap like a statue.

    ¡°Fuck,¡± She whimpered in a tiny voice that accompanied her tears of frustration.

    After a few seconds, the paralysis lifted, and she pushed herself up again, forcing herself not to touch the barrier. Wanting to know if Llyud had taken his leave or was simply gloating from the other side of the fence, Sheeva flew as carefully as she could, high enough that she could peek. Nothing but dustbins and scattered trash remained.

    Beyond the film of fluorescent green, Tazaro was running towards her while saying something, but she couldn¡¯t discern what beyond the soft hum of the trap. Abraxas was in his hands, and she felt relieved that Llyud hadn¡¯t snatched it up and taken it with him.

    Realizing he didn¡¯t know how the trap worked, Sheeva dropped and quickly raised her hands, barking at him to stop, though doubtful that he could hear her, either. He slowed to a stop, looking in awe at the trap, then raised a curious hand.

    ¡°What on earth is¨C

    ¡°No, don¡¯t touch¨CSheeva tried to warn, but before she could finish the sentence, Tazaro had already touched the wall.

    ¡°Ah, damn it,¡± She blurted, planting her face in her palm.

    While it didn¡¯t seem to knock him back as it had to her, it still had a petrifying effect that, thankfully, only lasted a few seconds as Tazaro¡¯s face was stuck, eyes wide in wonder and mouth agape in an awed smile, arm and pointer finger outstretched.

    With a flash, the petrification fell.

    ¨CThis?¡± Tazaro finished his previous sentence as though he hadn¡¯t been interrupted, and he stepped back, blinking in confusion, then looked at his finger before shoveling his free hand into his pocket. Looking at the sword in his other hand, Tazaro caught eyes with Sheeva before lifting it to poke at the wall. Sheeva took a step back and moved as far as she could out of the way, lest the wall fling it forward like a released arrow on a drawn bow.

    No petrification happened when Tazaro pierced the wall, though the field simply wrapped around the blade. Still, Sheeva was relieved that he had figured such a thing out without the both of them having to try to play charades through the veil.

    Trying not to touch the wall, Sheeva searched for something he could use to interrupt the flow of energy to the barrier, spotting an overturned wine-crate behind him to his left. Eagerly, she pointed at it.

    As he hurried over to it and picked it up, Sheeva took one end as he pierced the veil, then helped him lower it to the ground. Like interrupting the flow of a waterfall, the wine crate split a gash in the trap, large enough that Sheeva could climb through by turning sideways. She tucked her wings away, then stepped up, taking Tazaro¡¯s offered hand for support as she shimmied her way through, nervous as she felt the heat of the magical veil warm her already flush face.

    Still, the damn wall nipped at her foot as she turned to hurry through, and she stumbled forth, mouth caught open in a scream of surprise that stopped suddenly as she leaned against Tazaro¡¯s frame as still as a statue. The scream then resumed as the effect timed out and she collapsed, thankful that he was there to support her as she fought to find her footing.

    ¡°What is that?¡± He asked, amazed, his hold on her seeming to soften as he stared at the pillar of light.

    ¡°A-a trap,¡± Sheeva answered, stupefied to be so close, let alone with hands on his apparently firm chest and an arm wrapped around her waistline. She pushed herself out of the hold and collected herself, reaching for Abraxas, still clutched in his hand.

    ¡°Thank you. I would not have been able to get out of that, had you not been there. At least last time I had bodies to stack,¡± She stated, returning her weapon to its scabbard and pretending she didn¡¯t hear Tazaro¡¯s concerned blurt of: ¡°I¡¯m sorry¨Cwhat?¡±

    ¡°For future reference, don¡¯t touch strange, colorful things,¡± she warned.

    ¡°Y-yeah. I, I don¡¯t know what happened, but I feel like I, uh, lost time or something¨Clike blacking out,¡± He muttered, still trying to grasp the events. ¡°I must be drunk,¡± He reasoned, looking at his hands. Sure, he¡¯d been in fistfights before, but to attack with an improvised weapon was something entirely new.

    With her chest still aching from the dark blast, Sheeva winced as she pressed against her sternum, then realized the burned hole in the fabric of her shirt. Beneath the remnants of her shirt, she saw a slight burn, and was grateful for the body-shield she consistently cast.

    ¡°Damn, this was one of my favorite shirts,¡± She sighed, causing Tazaro to look, wondering what the particular shirt was. He immediately looked away in shyness and turned his back on her as he realized the tattered remains of her shirt.

    ¡°S-sorry, didn¡¯t mean to¨CUm¡­¡± He babbled. He cleared his throat, shed his jacket, and handed it to her.

    ¡°Here,¡± He offered.

    Sheeva didn¡¯t refuse the offer, embarrassed about the circumstance, herself. The jacket was soft, light, pliable, and smelled of cedarwood and pine.

    Naturally, she thought.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± She thanked. ¡°We should hurry.¡± She commented, turning to head on down the alley and away from him, just enough that he might not witness the self-conscious squiggle of her mouth as she fought to keep a straight face.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to take the chance that Llyud¡¯s still waiting nearby.¡± She insisted, hurrying towards the street and on towards Mildred¡¯s home. She lifted her gaze to peer at the skies, though with how dark they were, she couldn¡¯t see anything, then wiped the rain off of her face.

    ¡°You know, you didn¡¯t tell me he could do magic, too. That would have been nice to know,¡± Tazaro grunted. ¡°What was that attack, anyway? It was like his ribs just opened up and, and¡­Blegh!¡± He asked, mimicking a projectile vomit while motioning the crack open of a melon from the midst of his chest.

    If it was meant to be funny, it didn¡¯t make Sheeva laugh.

    ¡°I, I don¡¯t know,¡± She admitted as her gait slowed. ¡°It was new, and, believe it or not, his chest did open up. I, I saw his heart beating in his chest,¡± She shivered. ¡°There¡¯s definitely something different about him this time, and I don¡¯t like it.¡±

    ¡°Was it the fact that he reeks?¡±

    Sheeva¡¯s boots clicked on the cobblestone as she scoffed and walked on, picking up her pace.

    Alright. Not in the mood for jokes, I guess.

    ¡°In all seriousness, do you think he¡¯s been watching you?¡± Tazaro asked, hurrying to catch up with her, then falling in step with her brisk pace that had him breaking a sweat.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so. He didn¡¯t gloat about it like usual, nor did he give any indication. No look, no sneer, nothing. Besides, I have wards set up everywhere. I had hoped they would trip the minute he set foot in town, but¡­maybe not.¡± She explained, turning down the street towards the maze towards the Chorea Family home.

    They paused at the front gate, relieved to find that the lights were off and nothing had been perturbed, save for the Midnight Bells chiming out their arrival.

    ¡°I swear Mom planted those things on purpose,¡± Tazaro sighed, wishing the things would shut up and immediately mature into the peppers they would use for cooking.

    ¡°Mm. No, that was me. Squeaking Leeks for daytime, Midnight Bells for night-time,¡± Sheeva explained. Tazaro raised his eyebrows, interested.

    ¡°Is this one of those ¡®better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in a war¡¯ type things?¡± He asked, tiptoeing past the Squeaking Leeks so as not to wake them. No one needed to hear the tiny ¡°squee, squee, squee¡± amid the sweet tones of tinkling bells.

    Sheeva shook her head. It had not been so, only set up as an extra measure of security.

    Stepping past the lush garden, Sheeva paused to pluck a fully matured rogue tomato from the vine. Unlike it''s brethren, it did not wail its protest and instead remained lifeless and silent, signaling its ripeness. Hungry, she shamelessly devoured the fruit, relieved at the slight restoration of energy. As she passed through the front door, she tapped the warding sigil to give it a boost to its range, pushing the threshold beyond the front porch and onto the fence surrounding the yards.

    Intrigued, Tazaro tapped the sigil, too, which Sheeva noticed.

    Confused, she turned to him.

    ¡°Why did you do that?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Cuz you did. Figured it was for luck, or something,¡± He answered, though he knew what it was for, now keenly aware of what the buzz on his face had been the few times he had knocked on the door to the room to chat when she¡¯d first come to stay with them. ¡°Unless¡­it¡¯s some kind of Pacemian superstition?¡± He snickered, eliciting a scoff and roll of her eyes.

    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t start with that. I am well aware of my mistakes, thank you,¡± She retorted with a small smile. She cleared her throat and stepped into the kitchen, running the sink to clear the stagnant water while grabbing two glasses from the cupboard.

    She handed one to him while chugging the other, then refilled it.

    ¡°Give me a moment; I am going to change my shirt, and I¡¯ll give you back your jacket when I¡¯m done,¡± She announced, shuffling past him and up the stairs to the room she was staying in. After promptly changing the scorched set of chest-bindings with a fresh pair and discarding them in the trash with the scorched shirt, she picked out a more comfortable shirt with holes she¡¯d cut and hemmed for easy wing-baring.

    Feeling it was almost midnight, Sheeva checked her watch and found it to be much earlier than that; rather than nearing the fifteenth hour mark, the hour hand was only just past nine. Maybe they had lost too much time being petrified by Llyud¡¯s trap.

    Tazaro had already set up a place for himself to sleep on the couch using the throw blanket draped over the back and one of the old couch pillows. As she approached him with his jacket in hand, he stood and took it from her, then draped it over the back of the couch.

    ¡°You know, speaking of Pacemian superstitions, I was going to apologize earlier but we were interrupted by Micah.¡± Sheeva began, shifting around on her feet uncomfortably. ¡°We should probably make a plan for next time, if there is one.¡±

    Tazaro hummed, and nodded.

    ¡°Yeah, but it also wouldn¡¯t have been an issue if I hadn¡¯t said something in the first place. I owe you an apology for that. I really was trying to help you out, and I happen to know them best, so¡­¡± He trailed off, and shrugged, for what else could he say that hadn¡¯t already been said?

    ¡°Well, hey¨Cwe could stand here and trade apologies all night, or we could just say we¡¯re good, hm? And, to make it up to you, when it¡¯s not pouring outside, we can see if the Stargazer works,¡± He offered, not about to point out her apparent disappointment that the late-night visits were potentially over.

    When she smiled that genuine, bright smile, it was the most beautiful thing Tazaro had ever seen, and he wished he could paint¨Csurely, such a pristine, heartwarming thing belonged in an art museum!

    ¡°Really?¡± She asked, visibly thrilled, which made him stammer even more.

    ¡°I, I think it¡¯s only f¨Cwell, it¡¯s not just that it¡¯s fair, but I¡¯d like you to be there, since you really did encourage me to make it. But, yeah; I¡¯d like for you to join me when I check it out for the first time¨Cpass or fail,¡± He blathered in nerves, wondering when her stance had become so endearing. ¡°S-so, you, uh, wanna make it a d¨C

    He let out a surprised bark and Sheeva jumped with a yelp as someone banged loudly on the front door.

 Chapter 8: A Sweeping Inferno

    ¡°Sheeva! We need help!¡± A voice called from behind the door.

    Sheeva and Tazaro looked at the door, then glanced at one another. Bidding Tazaro to wait further inside, she strode to the door and braced it, holding a knife in hand to intimidate, if need be.

    She peered through the window in the door to see who was making such a ruckus. Surprised, she threw open the door and looked down at the little girl standing there, who was panting heavily.

    ¡°Cecilia? What are you¨C

    ¨CJosef had me follow you so I could come to get you if they needed me to!¡±

    Hearing this, Sheeva frowned, disappointed, though still wary, considering the attempt at a scare from the cellar. Maybe, this was a twisted joke the little girl was trying to pull¡­though being the dead of night, she doubted so.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± She asked. Cecilia was still huffing, and Sheeva guessed that she had run all the way from Dekkir Street¨Cpractically, a mile-and-a-half stretch. With watchful eyes, she scoured the front yard and the street beyond for any other signs of trouble or any hunkering figures trying to hide in the darkness.

    ¡°Sheeva, he has Josef!¡±

    Sheeva blinked and looked back down at the child.

    ¡°Who has Josef?¡±

    ¡°Some tall¡­ugly man!¡±

    ¡°Tall, ugly man?¡± Sheeva repeated, stomach dropping into the floor as she realized who Cecilia might be referring to.

    At this, Sheeva hustled the child inside, turning to immediately lock the door behind her. She pulled Cecilia by the hand into the living room, hurrying toward her bag and sword, pausing to wipe the dust away that caked her hand and seeped between the webbing of her fingers.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Tazaro asked, worried.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Josef and the others are in trouble. I think it¡¯s Llyud. I, I gotta go,¡± She insisted, trying not to ruminate on the shaky, unevenness in her voice. Sheeva fished the medical kit out of her bag and tied it around her shoulders.

    The hallway light flicked on and Sheeva stopped as Mildred approached from the hallway, hand along the wall for guidance.

    ¡°What¡¯s happening? What¡¯s going on?¡± She asked.

    ¡°There are some children I¡¯ve been trying to take care of. Llyud¡¯s there; I must go,¡± Sheeva explained shortly, closing her backpack and standing to double-check her gear.

    ¡°I want to go with you!¡± Cecilia begged.

    ¡°No. No, you should stay away,¡± Sheeva dismissed immediately, then looked at Mildred and Tazaro.

    ¡°Can I leave her here? I don¡¯t want anything to happen to her; it¡¯s not right,¡± Sheeva asked. Mildred nodded, and waved the child over to her with a hand, seeming a little startled when met with the brush of Cecilia¡¯s bushy blonde hair.

    As she patted the child¡¯s head, a worried expression spread on Mildred¡¯s face before she forced a smile, stooped, and held the child closer to her in a tight hug, whispering something into the child¡¯s ear. When Cecilia giggled, Sheeva assumed Mildred had said something funny to distract the frightened child.

    Sheeva hesitated briefly, then offered them an apologetic look. She couldn¡¯t look either of them in the eye, guilty for possibly putting them in danger.

    ¡°Forgive me for drawing you into this mess,¡± Sheeva asked, heading for the front door.

    ¡°W-Wait, maybe I should go¨CTazaro offered, but Sheeva cut him off.

    ¨CNo,¡± She interrupted. ¡°No,¡± She said again, more insistently.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to take any chances. Just stay here, Tazaro,¡± She continued on her charge.

    ¡°Take him with you!¡± Mildred ordered. Sheeva halted halfway down the hallway to the door.

    ¡°There¡¯s no time to argue¨C

    ¨CSheeva Jules, you take him with you right now!¡± Mildred interrupted, not giving Sheeva a choice in the matter.

    ¡°He can help you make sure the others are safe.¡± She ordered again, determined. Sheeva figured Mildred was probably right to have her consider the extra help¨Cbetter to have everyone in a guarded, secure place rather than scrambling around like mice in a maze.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Sheeva relented, striding back to her bag.

    ¡°Carry this, and follow me,¡± She ordered as she raised her bag and shoved it into Tazaro''s hands. ¡°If I give you an order, you follow it,¡± She added, then turned and rushed toward the door.

    Tazaro wasn¡¯t built for running, but with the adrenaline coursing through his veins, he found himself able to keep up on her heels a little better than he had initially thought. They raced down towards the main street, down towards the center of town, across the Southgate Plaza, and into the slums. After a couple of turns, Sheeva skidded to a stop in front of the Abandoned House on Dekkir Street.

    Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, the porch sagging on one side and the foundation with a slight lean towards the side, seemingly held up by the tall building next to it.

    Sheeva tore Abraxas from his scabbard and rushed in, throwing the door open with such force, the handle bashed a hole in the wall and stuck open. Josef and the others jumped and turned, and as Nook shuffled the others behind him and retrieved a knife that Sheeva had given him, he held it out, a fierce glare on his face.

    "What are you doing, scaring us like that?" Nook barked, calming as he realized who had just barged in so suddenly. "I could have stabbed you!"

    Sheeva panted for air while she stared in confusion, legs shaking and trembling from nearly sprinting the whole way here.

    ¡°Where is he? Where¡¯s Llyud?¡± She asked, panting as she looked around. Bidding them to stay in the living room, she moved to the hallway to examine the stairs. She crept up them as quietly as she could, peering at the floors before entering, not keen on walking into another trap.

    But, as she found every room to be empty, she became more and more confused. Nothing was out of place, and as she even peered into the cellar, there was no one there, either.

    She walked back to the living room and returned her weapons to its sheath.

    "I''m-I''m sorry. It seems you are safe.¡± She sighed, relief welling in her chest.

    ¡°But, Cecilia said that you were-that you were in trouble¨Cthat Llyud was here,¡± She explained.

    As Tazaro stepped in through the doorway, Sheeva turned, feeling the buzz in her arm. She blinked at it slowly, understanding that the warding spell hadn''t somehow faltered since Tazaro''s unauthorized presence buzzed in her brain. As the buzz turned to an incessant ringing in her ears, she hissed from the almost instant ache.

    ¡°Get out,¡± She demanded.

    ¡°Wha-why? I¡¯m here to¨C

    ¨Cyou¡¯re triggering my alarm! Get¨CRealizing that the alarm hadn¡¯t triggered, Sheeva looked at the sigil on her arm, then stumbled to the old, tattered painting in disorientated balter. She yanked the painting from the wall, revealing the corresponding sigil carved behind it.

    It was still fully intact, though the dried blood had long turned an ugly shade of brown.

    ¡°What? But, I¨Cwait, no. No, it would have told me.¡± She babbled, thoughts interrupted by the bzzt, bzzt, bzzt! Needing silence to think beyond the buzzing in her head, she waved Tazaro out of the room.

    ¡°Tazaro, please, get out.¡± She asked again, holding her head in dizziness as the noise turned into a whistle. ¡°It won¡¯t stop until you¡¯re outside,¡± she groaned, doubling over as the noise made her want to vomit.

    Tazaro immediately did as she asked as she saw how afflicted she became.

    ¡°Josef,¡± She called, trying to focus on rampant thoughts as the noise in her ears died down. ¡°Cecilia told me Llyud was here.¡± She stated, continuing to look around, mildly pacing as she searched the utility closet, back bedroom, and the pantry connected to the kitchen. Maybe she had missed something. "Where is he?"

    Josef squinted at her with a judgmental, raised eyebrow on his face.

    ¡°Llyud? There hasn¡¯t been anyone. Hasn¡¯t been anyone here besides you, earlier this morning.¡±

    Sheeva stopped at the bottom of the steps to the second floor, hand on the balcony rail. Holding there, she stared at Josef for a moment, then glanced at her arm again. If there had been intruders inside the veil, the alarm hadn''t been triggered at all. Maybe, she¡¯d just missed it in all the panic of being attacked by Llyud earlier in the night, or...ridiculously distracted by Tazaro, like a smitten schoolgirl.

    Truly, there had been no time for rest and no time to think.

    She shook her head at the latter, refusing to believe she was so distracted by simply being near the handsome, gentle, and generous man. Besides, with a potentially noisy and volatile reaction like that, how could she possibly miss such a thing?

    "I, I¡­" She stammered, confused. "I need some air," she muttered, staggering toward the front door.

    "Are you alright? I''m sorry I didn''t listen before; I didn''t understand what was happening," Tazaro apologized as soon as she stepped outside.

    Sheeva blinked at him, still trying to process.

    "Nor did I. Apparently, Llyud was never here, which I have no reason to not believe, considering they all have the same story and the alarm triggering while you were in the house,¡± She explained, then looked at the sigils in her arm again. She poked at the rose in curious thought.

    ¡°Now that I think of it, Cecilia is still there, and my alarm hasn¡¯t begun to sound. I¡­I don¡¯t understand why not since I just replenished all of them this week. I even boosted it earlier¨Cyou were there. It hasn¡¯t gone off, even after I pulled her inside.¡±

    Tazaro crossed his arms and looked at the house. Though he was unsure of how the spell worked, he wondered why¨Csince she had apparently set up the same type of spell on his mother¡¯s house¨Cit wasn''t alarming her so harshly at the presence of the young girl that she had ushered in.

    ¡°Hey, Sheeva? Is it possible for someone to not trigger the alarm if you let them inside? Like, some kind of, uh, vampire?¡± Tazaro suggested. "Or do you think it''s got something to do with how far away you might be?" He asked.

    "How far away? No, that doesn''t seem to be an issue. But, as for inviting someone in, I don¡¯t know¨C

    ¨COh, ¡®Sheeva?¡¯ That¡¯s your name, miss?¡± Sophia asked.

    Sheeva looked, then sighed in irritation. All her efforts were in vain.

    "Ah, damn it, you weren''t supposed to know my¨Cshe cursed, then stopped. "You weren''t supposed to know my name."

    She wheeled around to look at Sophia, baffled.

    ¡°You weren''t¨Cyou didn''t¡­¡± She stuttered, feeling a full-body chill strike her as her stomach tied itself in knots. ¡°No, you didn¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°And,¡± She shook her head in disbelief. ¡°You couldn''t have known¨CI never told you. So, how-how did Cecilia know? I never gave her my name, either."

    She turned to Tazaro, desperate and somewhat uncertain if she was simply imagining things. "Wait, you were there. She did call me by name, didn''t she?"

    Tazaro''s eyes squinted in thought before the trickle of worry oozed in.

    "Yes. Yes, she did. I''m certain of it," he affirmed. ¡°Twice, actually.¡±

    Realizing but reluctant to believe she¡¯d been tricked, Sheeva¡¯s heart began to race. She whipped back around to find Josef, rushed for him, grasped his shoulders, and shook him.

    ¡°Josef, tell me: Did you have Cecilia tailing me? Anywhere?¡±

    ¡°What? No!¡± He barked. ¡°After we caught her inside the house, we haven¡¯t seen her since!¡±

    Sheeva¡¯s stomach tightened in worry even more.

    ¡°And, that¡¯s the truth?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± He cried, grabbing at her wrists to get her to let him go. ¡°Let me go; you¡¯re hurting me, miss!¡±

    Sheeva gasped and immediately let go, apologizing as she realized how hard a hold of him she had: her knuckles ached and had turned white from her grasp. She wrung her hands to soothe them, thinking; wondering; fearing¡­

    Maybe, Llyud was lying in wait and that she had accidentally sent all of them into a trap.

    "All of you, get inside¨Cnow!" She urged the children, trying to sweep them in through the doorway.

    "Tazaro, find a place to hide, and¨Cshe stopped and let out a yelp of pain as a searing burn blazed on her arm. She struggled to pull back the sleeve, then screeched again from another pain.

    "What''s happened?" Tazaro asked, stepping towards her and grabbing at her wrist so that he could look. He helped pull the sleeve away, finding some of the fabric had fused with her skin, leaving behind a bloody wound with its tear from her skin. The red sigil had ignited, branding itself into the skin, emitting the stench of burning flesh into the air.

    ¡°The rose sigil¨Cit''s¨Cit''s on fire!" He exclaimed in shock.

    "The rose?" Sheeva cried, hoping she had misheard him.

    She looked, too, and saw the rose sigil glimmering bright yellow and orange.

    "No, Mildred!¡± Sheeva hissed, jerking her hand free from his and charging down the street.

    ¡°Stay here, Tazaro!¡± She demanded, baring her wings. With several mighty flaps, she took to the air and soared up above the rooftops, beelining for Mildred¡¯s home.

    Tazaro looked back at the kids that had shuffled out of the door, amazed looks on their faces.

    ¡°You guys stay here! And, get back inside!¡± He ordered, ignoring Sheeva¡¯s order and running toward his mother''s house.

    Locating a small pillar of smoke and the light of fire, Sheeva dove for the spot in the same block as the house, tucking her wings back to gather speed as she zipped through the now familiar streets in a mach-five glide. Nearing the garden in the front lawn, she tilted her wings to slow her descent, then flapped her wings hard, and as her momentum nearly stopped, she let her legs fly out in front of her as she dropped to the ground, stumbling a few steps forward. A building plume of flames raged from inside, and boldly, Sheeva ran through the front door, hoping Mildred would still be alive and able to get out. Reaching the living room, she froze as she saw Llyud standing there with Mildred grappled in his hold and a knife at her throat.

    ¡°Llyud, let her go!¡± Sheeva barked, raising her arm as a wave of flames threatened to lick her face. He only cackled at her and brandished the knife, egging her to take him on. Sheeva didn¡¯t dare to move as Llyud used Mildred as a shield.

    ¡°How dare you, Llyud, you coward! Let her go and take me instead!¡± Sheeva ordered.

    "Oh, but Sheeva, I only wanted to play!" Llyud called. "How about a nice game of capture the flag? Aha!" He cackled.

    ¡°I¡¯M TIRED OF THIS GAME! FUCKING FIGHT ME!¡± Sheeva bellowed so hard her vocal chords hurt.

    He screamed as Mildred caught his arm in her mouth and bit down hard. Angered, he smacked the knife¡¯s pommel stone against Mildred¡¯s temple as she struggled against him, then dropped her carelessly to the floor. Enraged, Sheeva rushed him, drawing Abraxas and attempting to run him through. Llyud parried, countered, and grabbed her collar to effortlessly throw her over his shoulder and onto the piano bench.

    Caught by surprise at his speed, Sheeva barely had time to redirect a passive shield to protect her head.

    He kicked Sheeva while she was down, breaking the thin layered shield around her torso. He bent over, grabbed the collar of her shirt, lifted her up, then socked her on her cheek. She blocked his next punch and kicked him, aiming for his groin. He caught her foot before it could make contact, and Sheeva grabbed a piece of wood from the shattered bench. Bench leg grasped firmly in hand, she thwacked it hard against Llyud''s shin, causing him to cry out in pain as the nails driven through to hold the piece to the seat of the chair stabbed him in the calf. With his other foot, he stepped on and pinned her arm down, dropped to a knee, and slapped his hand over her face to look her in the eye.

    Fiercely, she bit his palm, gagging as blood trickled into her mouth, and he barked out a swear and shocked her.

    The first shock was mild, compared to what he threw at her last time, and as it only made her scream and gave her fingers and toes that pins and needles sensation, she urged her leg to attempt a kick.

    The second electroshock was harsher, aching her face, guts, and limbs as her body tensed and breathing seized. She couldn''t even properly cough out the blood that trickled into her throat, and she choked on it as she tried not to swallow the metallic stuff.

    Satisfied that she was immobilized, Llyud stood and hurried over to Mildred, who''d curled up on the floor, unwilling to run or crawl into the fire.

    Unable to move, Sheeva watched through tunnel vision in despair as Llyud knelt down to hoist Mildred around his shoulders, bared a pair of wings, cast a fireball that shattered a hole in the wall, and leaped through to disappear.

    As the orange flame climbed up the remaining walls to turn them black with growing rage, she struggled to move even more, fearing she would burn to death in a tragic end. Desperate, she willed her dead limbs to move and, barely aware of the flex of her muscles, managed to flop onto her stomach, then groaned in pain as she found herself laying, full-weight, on a support beam that had fallen in from the shattered wall.

    ¡°Mom? Sheeva?¡± Tazaro¡¯s voice called out.

    Sheeva looked up to the shadow of Tazaro''s tall frame from the floor, found some strength, and called out to him.

    He hurried to her and attempted to help her up.

    "She''s¨Ccough¨Cgone. Llyud has her," she managed.

    Determined, Sheeva shakily pushed herself up.

    ¡°I told you¨Csss, Vilg!¡± She hissed out as her hand slipped and cut itself on a shard of glass. ¡°¨Cto stay away!¡± She groaned.

    ¡°Yeah? And where¨C He grunted as he helped up, venting his frustration with the rough pull to her feet, ¨Cwould you be then?¡± supporting her as he turned to the front door from where he came. As the frame caved in and spewed hot ash and embers their way, they could no longer escape that way.

    He turned them towards the gaping hole in the side of the house, but as that crumbled, too, he barked in surprise and shuffled back, grunting as he slammed into the wall.

    Their only option was the back door.

    Hoping it wasn''t blocked, he looked over his shoulder and around the corner to the hallway. With fewer flames melting the paint off the walls and a relatively clear path, Tazaro hustled them down the way, holding tight to Sheeva''s arm wrapped around his chest and her waist snug against his hip.

    Bashing themselves through the door, they stumbled out into the backyard, and Tazaro was amazed that they hadn¡¯t fallen over and barreled into the patio. Sheeva looked to the night sky, dazed and dizzied.

    ¡°He has¡­your mother. He can fly. I didn¡¯t know he¡­he could fly!¡± She panted, then babbled, trying to see if she could tell what direction he¡¯d gone in. As she could barely hold her eyes open in exhaustion, she dropped her head and shut her eyes, relenting. To struggle more was a moot point. "We gotta go. Gotta follow," She ranted.

    ¡°Follow where?¡± Tazaro asked for clarification as he tried to figure out where to go, coming up on the dead end of the wooden fence. He moved them closer to the back fence to escape the rising heat that burned his backside. As the creak of wood groaned and the shattering of glass caught his attention, Tazaro stopped, then turned to stare in shock as the roaring flames engulfed his childhood house.

    He blinked once as a loud pop sounded, likely the lamp-line oil reservoir in the utility room that illuminated the whole place. Eventually, the building collapsed in a pile of burning rubble, causing a tiny, dissociated "oh!" Of surprise to fall from his mouth.

    "Tazaro, we have to leave," Sheeva called, trying to pull his shirt toward the loose plank they had snuck in from but an hour or so earlier. ¡°It¡¯s too dangerous to stay,¡± She urged.

    Stunned, he didn''t move, still staring at the wreckage. All the hard work they had put in, gone. The gas-lit lamp system he had installed himself as an upgrade? Gone. The garden his mother worked so hard on? Gone. The only remaining reminder of his biological father and deceased sister? Gone.

    "Tazaro, please, we have to go. Now!" She repeated, shaking him gently.

    He snapped to with a small, estranged noise, then turned to look at her.

    "We have to get out of here," she stressed. Numbly nodding his response, his body seemed remotely run by a stranger, and as they shuffled through the loose plank in the fence, they stumbled out into the alleyway behind his house.

    In an extremely awkward stumbling gait, they kept to the alleyways, managing to get a few blocks away before they finally stopped for air and rest as their legs screamed at them. When Sheeva went to sit on an overturned wine crate, she grasped onto Tazaro''s shirt and held tight as she tripped over her feet. He helped set her down on the crate, only now noticing the new splotches of blood on her person.

    "You''re hurt. There''s blood on your mouth, and on your hand," he stated, slinging the bag over his shoulders and onto the ground in front of him. Searching for her medical kit, he fished through it for the salve and bandages they had gifted her.

    With a disgusted whimper as she recalled the blood trickling down her throat, Sheeva grabbed her water pouch, pulled out the cork that stopped it with her teeth, threw back her head, and swished some water around to rinse the foul, metallic blood. She turned her head and spit it out, gagging.

    ¡°Did you bite your t¨C

    ¨CIt¡¯s not my blood.¡± She interrupted, gagging again with horror. Tazaro grimaced and held her hair back as she vomited, turning his head away out of respect.

    Too exhausted to vomit anymore, she realized her hand stung. She poured water on her bloody hand to wash some of it away, blinking sluggishly as she tried to examine the wound. She couldn''t see well enough in the darkness.

    With a weak cast of her light orb, she rested her head back as her brain swam.

    "Can you check to make sure there is no glass? I cut my hand on something,¡± she whispered weakly.

    As the light flickered, dimmed, then brightened in flux, Tazaro searched amid the trickling blood as well as he could. Spotting a small chunk of glass that shimmered from the light hovering above his head, he carefully picked it out with his fingers, wincing as she grunted from the pain and swore. He muttered his apology, dressed her wound, then lifted the arm¡¯s sleeve that bore its sigils. The red one had stopped bleeding but was puffy and inflamed with dried blood caked on it.

    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    He took her water pouch and poured, gently cleaned the wound, then dressed it as well.

    Once done, he sat in a daze, numb.

    "I can''t believe it," she growled, causing Tazaro to look up.

    "Can''t believe what?" Tazaro asked, somewhat worried.

    ¡°Damn it all, he fucking got me! He had to have been watching me! He had to have been!¡± She babbled, an enraged look on her face. ¡°I was so fucking careful!¡± She hissed, clenching her fists and doubling over to curl up as she shook with rage, then swore in pain from the wound on her hand as it unclenched. ¡°I changed my appearance, I set wards, I had sentries, and he still slipped past all that!¡±

    Lost, Tazaro looked around himself, then at the light that still shined, though as bright as the sun. Distracted by the thing, he scooped it up in an attempt to dim its brightness, then hissed as it burned, like hovering a hand over a candle flame. Annoyed, he swatted at it like a pesky fly, launching it across the way. He watched as the miniature sun bounced and rolled underneath a dustbin, then died out, presumably from a distance, though he held no clue.

    ¡°You should-you should¡­go home. I¡¯ll chase after them. I¡¯ll get her back. But you¡­you go home. You¡¯ll be safe there,¡± Sheeva insisted, shuffling herself onto her feet.

    ¡°This time, that skulka dies,¡± She threatened with such a violent demeanor it frightened Tazaro.

    However, as she slowly began to shuffle away, limping, his fright was replaced by concern, doubting her ability to move well enough to even kill a fly.

    ¡°Hey, wait!¡± Tazaro called, pushing himself to his feet. She ignored him and walked on. With an angered snort, Tazaro charged after her and hurried around to stop her, hands on her shoulders to look her in the eye.

    ¡°Sheeva, stop for a second and look at me. I know you want to pursue them. I want to, too, but you need to rest for a minute; you can barely stand. And, if we¡¯re gonna chase after them, we need to make sure we¡¯re ready,¡± He insisted. She sent him that hawk-eyed, stern stare that would have normally shaken him to the core, but, frustrated as he was, it didn¡¯t break his adamance.

    ¡°We are not going anywhere. You are going to go home and wait, and I will pursue Llyud.¡± She insisted, trying to shuffle herself out of his grasp. He held tighter.

    ¡°Damnit, listen to me!¡± He barked, giving her a shake. ¡°You need someone to guide Mom somewhere safe while you¡¯re taking care of that son-of-a-skulka, and you¡¯ve got no other choice but me! Nobody else knows those things about you, right? Magic, and wings, and-and stuff?¡± He argued.

    His shake, his stern glare, and his words were enough to break through to Sheeva¡¯s rational part of her brain, and as she thought on it, she felt he was right. If Llyud had enlisted people to assist him this time, Mildred would still be in danger while Sheeva was busy fighting Llyud, and there really wasn¡¯t anyone else who could help her in the current situation that Sheeva could trust to keep their mouths shut¡­if her secrets hadn¡¯t already been aired by the supernatural events that just unfolded.

    She frowned, accepted his point, and slowly nodded.

    ¡°Ok,¡± She agreed, settling. Her eyes drooped as the exhaustion fully set in. Tazaro shuffled them back to the crate and helped her sit, then collapsed on the ground next to her.

    After a while, Slowly, Sheeva peeled herself forward from the wall to rest her elbows on her knees. She closed her eyes and rubbed the sore spot on her cheek, then pressed the area where Llyud had kicked her in the gut. She lifted her shirt to examine it, where an impressive, sickly bruise was beginning to form just above her left hip. She traced a few seals and attempted to heal the deep wound, a green cloud of light sinking into her skin.

    Tazaro scowled across the way, struggling to make sense of his thoughts. He couldn¡¯t lie; he was furious.

    ¡°What the hell happened? You were careful.¡± He hissed, trying his best not to blame Sheeva.

    ¡°I still do not know. Cecilia¨Cif she even was Cecilia¨Cseems to have gotten past my alarms somehow. The only thing I can surmise is that Llyud disguised himself as Cecilia, hence why she would know my name."

    Sheeva paused, frowning. "But, that would be impossible; he could not have shrunk himself somehow. Unless¡­he actually put the little girl to the task?¡± She mused. ¡°But, no¨CI didn¡¯t see anyone else at the house when I first arrived,¡± she rambled, then felt suddenly guilty.

    ¡°I hope I did not accidentally leave the girl to perish in the fire,¡± She mumbled.

    Tazaro shook his head.

    ¡°What I don¡¯t understand is how the alarm wasn¡¯t tripped, considering how sick it made you when I was in that other house,¡± He voiced, crossing his arms.

    It had all happened so fast, from the child¡¯s arrival to his mother¡¯s insistence that he go with Sheeva to the understanding of Llyud¡¯s trickery. Tazaro blinked as he recalled the way his mother sounded when she¡¯d given her order. He felt it wasn¡¯t just to make sure the other children were safe. His brow furrowed, and he pressed a hand to his forehead.

    ¡°I think Mom knew it was him. That¡¯s why she sent me with you. To keep me safe." He muttered, face wrenching into a scowl. "I knew I should have stayed! Gods be damned!¡± He hissed, feeling his eyes burn with tears.

    ¡°If you had, you¡¯d likely be dead.¡± Sheeva pointed out miserably. Tazaro looked up with a blurted: "what?" Sheeva avoided looking at him and sat back with a guilty sigh.

    ¡°Sheeva¡­¡± Tazaro began, fearing her answer. ¡°Do you think my mom¡¯s¡­¡± He mumbled, unable to say it and fearing it would be true. The only family he would have left would be Tyler, and he wasn¡¯t certain Tyler could handle losing Mildred¨Cit might be the very thing that drove the man back into the bottle.

    ¡°No,¡± Sheeva answered after some thought.

    ¡°Tell me you¡¯re not just saying that to make me feel¨C

    ¨CI¡¯m not,¡± She insisted, calmly and confidently, rather than quick and defensively. It was enough for Tazaro to believe her.

    ¡°Llyud is¡­a sadist, and for whatever reason, I have been at the receiving end of his torments for a long, long time. As he has done before with Rose, he will not kill her unless it is in front of me, and because of this, I have faith that she is alive,¡± She stated, reaching for her canteen. She drank from it, thankful for the cool water preventing her from saying more.

    It¡¯s not the first time, and if I fail to end him now, it won¡¯t be the last.

    ¡°That being said, when we do find them, your objective is to get your mother and get to a safe place. I will handle Llyud,¡± She declared, offering the canteen to him.

    He stared at it instead.

    She took no offense, figuring him to still be in shock, and poked around in her bag in search of jerky.

    ¡°Use this time to eat and hydrate. You never know when you¡¯ll have the time to take a break in times like these,¡± She instructed, offering him the canteen once again.

    He took both, disinterested, until the scent of the peppered jerky hit his nose, and he began to salivate. The first bite made him realize how hungry he was, and he hastily chewed and devoured the thing.

    ¡°Also, here,¡± She offered, handing him a small, reddish pellet. ¡°An energy pellet. It¡¯ll give you a bit of a boost to keep you from crashing so hard. You¡¯ve¡­been through a lot, just now,¡± She pointed out softly. ¡°I¡¯m¡­I am sorry¨C

    ¨Cyou can apologize later after we get Mom back,¡± He said curtly.

    In honesty, he¡¯d rather not hear an apology, too upset and worried.

    His shortness was surprising, and it hurt to hear, but as Sheeva took a deep breath and sighed, she tried her best to rationalize that he was simply being pragmatic.

    ¡°Ok.¡± She agreed, sitting back once more.

    The energy pellet she crushed up and swallowed gave her a slight boost that went toward a second and much better attempt at healing the deep bruise from Llyud¡¯s kick. She grabbed another, popped it in her mouth, crushed it into a paste, and swallowed it with more water, feeling the effects almost immediately with a head-clearing rush.

    ¡°We should think of a way to search for your mother, rather than running around blind.¡± She announced.

    ¡°Hmph, thought you¡¯d have a spell for that, too¨Clike ¡®track animal,¡¯ or ¡®track mark,¡¯ or¡­ ¡®track evil, big-nosed bastard,¡± Tazaro grunted, though low enough that Sheeva thought he might be simply grumbling a grievance if she hadn¡¯t discerned what he had said.

    Sheeva looked at him, as his grumbling words gave her an idea. He was still slumped over, head propped on his arm as he participated in a tense, stare-down with the gravel in the alleyway.

    ¡°You are indeed related to Mildred, yes?¡± She asked.

    He looked up, surprised at the sudden question.

    ¡°Uh, yeah, isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± He answered sassily. ¡°Why?¡±

    She let the grumpiness slide, though it still showed in the hardness of her eyes and pursed-lip expression.

    ¡°No, not at all,¡± She fired back in sarcasm. ¡°You¡¯ve just given me an idea, that¡¯s all¨Cand if you were adopted, then this wouldn¡¯t work.¡±

    She paused.

    ¡°Of course, considering I¡¯ve never done this before, it might not work at all, but we¡¯ll just have to see.¡±

    She set her hand deliberately on the top of his head, closed her eyes, and focused. Figuring out whether or not she could pick up on another person strictly due to bloodline ties would be the first obstacle to face. As she felt a tingling sensation in her sinuses and heard a gentle hum, she let go of a tense breath, finding the tingle calming.

    Somehow, she had expected to see a miniature orb of light flashing in her mind¡¯s eye to point her which way to go, but when no such thing happened, she sighed and let her head fall back and opened her eyes to look at the cloudy night sky.

    However, when she opened her eyes, she saw strands of silk, like spider webs, floating in the wind and reaching every which way.

    ¡°Oh?¡± She muttered, interested to find that something had happened at all.

    ¡°What?¡± Tazaro asked, holding absolutely still.

    ¡°Well, all I see is a mess of, uh, string, but I was really hoping that we could use this to seek for¨C¡±

    With eerie, phantom movements that made her dizzy, the silken strands gathered, weaving together to form a braided string that disappeared through the wall and into the rest of the world. The apparition flickered, and as she lost concentration, she slouched forward to prop her head on her knees, further drained.

    ¡°Well, apparently, that works, though I do not know how far away they are. I suppose we will learn as we chase them.¡± She summed.

    "So, it really is just a case of ''fuck around and find out?" Tazaro asked, a little discouraged and worried for time.

    "Honestly?" She asked, finding herself somewhat frustrated. "Yes."

    They didn¡¯t say anything for a while, waiting while Sheeva recuperated, healed her wounds, and checked her supplies.

    ¡°I think I am well enough to continue. We should go now.¡± She suggested, finding it much easier to stand now that her head no longer spun. He nodded and grabbed his coat.

    When she tried to see which direction they would need to go, Sheeva found that the wisps still disappeared through the wall. Annoyed and rather than having to stop every once in a while, scouting from a high vantage point would yield better results¡­

    ¡­which led to Tazaro watching over his shoulder in nerves as Sheeva boldly picked the lock to the clocktower door.

    Once inside, Sheeva looked around, amazed; it seemed to be much bigger on the inside than she had anticipated, though she wasn¡¯t thrilled about having to climb so many flights of stairs. There had to be at least thirty flights, and it took her back to her adolescent years. The few times she had to walk the temple¡¯s grand steps for reprimand always left her highly reluctant to break the rules in the future, though picking fights with Hasch had never seemed to be one of the things she learned not to do.

    Unfortunately, there would be no elder frowning in disappointment at the top of these steps.

    With a heavy sigh, she headed for the first step, then stopped, hand on the rail and foot in the air in determined march as Tazaro called out to her.

    ¡°You can take the steps if you want, but there¡¯s a lift if you¡¯d rather.¡±

    Sheeva stopped, then looked over her shoulder. She turned to fully face him as he pulled open a cage door and stepped into a lift. Sheepish, Sheeva headed for it and stepping past him to step inside. He shut the gate and flipped a switch, briefly noticing Sheeva¡¯s flinch as the lift began to move.

    ¡°Nervous? Thought you wouldn¡¯t be afraid of heights since you can fly,¡± He commented, trying to put his own discomfiture at ease.

    ¡°I¡¯m nervous about being trapped in a metal box, not of heights,¡± She corrected. ¡°If the chain lifting this thing were to-to break and send us crashing to the ground, there¡¯s no escape,¡± She countered.

    ¡°It won¡¯t crash to the ground. There¡¯s safety measures in place,¡± Tazaro offered as a way to calm her nerves¡­as well as his own.

    What a way to confirm your own fear of heights, Tazaro thought, recalling the way he¡¯d affirmed his suspicion. After a class-trip had him step out onto the rooftop of the church for the god-king, Hyles, and looking down at the sheer drop to the brick street below, Tazaro had gotten cold-feet and decided to shift his apprenticeship to woodworking instead of architecture.

    As their elevation continued to climb, Tazaro avoided looking out beyond the cage as the large window of the clocktower appeared, allowing those inside to view the townscape below. He fixed his vision on the gears that churned, teeth biting into the grooves of the tracks as they made their ascent.

    The lift stopped, causing a jerk that made both of them jump, Sheeva seeming not to notice Tazaro grip the switch handle in nerves. The gate slid open, and while Sheeva seemed in a rush to get out, Tazaro¡¯s movements were stiff, eyes fixed ahead on the central, gigantic gears for the clock¡¯s hour, minute, and second hands, each slowly turning with the necessary speed calculated to keep proper time. The first step out of the shaky lift made him more comfortable as his foot landed on solid, stable flooring, and the second and third steps were rushed, eager to put distance between himself and the giant metal construct.

    ¡°Is there a way to get onto the outside of the tower? I was hoping to be able to look without anything obstructing my view,¡± Sheeva asked, searching for a window to the outside world.

    ¡°There¡¯s a door that allows mechanics and cleaners to work on the outside. Here, this way,¡± Tazaro stated, still feeling stiff and robotic.

    He led her towards the door on the other side of the floor. This door wasn¡¯t locked, and as Sheeva stepped out onto the ledge surrounding the base of the clock¡¯s face, Tazaro lingered back. Perhaps, he could stay inside while she did what she needed to, and that he wouldn¡¯t have to worry about teetering on such thin passageways with the wind threatening to blow him over.

    But, she can¡¯t search for Mom without me, he reminded himself. Maybe.

    ¡°Hey, are you sure you need me out there?¡± Tazaro called, shivering as a rush of wind blew in from the door.

    Silence followed for a few seconds, and as he dared to poke his head out beyond the doorframe, he found her to be focusing with eyes shut.

    At least she was giving it an earnest try, rather than telling him to stop ¡°being pathetic.¡±

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not working!¡± She called back, stepping closer.

    ¡°Vilg sa,¡± Tazaro swore with a sharp exhale of breath as he felt his stomach drop and his face drain of heat.

    He tried not to look out too far past his own feet as he shuffled nervously onto the planks, supported only by shaky rails slipped into circlets fastened by screws.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Sheeva asked, though he picked up on the impatience in her voice beyond the loud heartbeat in his head.

    Though his throat tickled with the urge to insist that he was ¡°fine,¡± no words followed, save for a stifled groan.

    WHY do the damn legdes have to be so narrow? He thought, frozen in fear in the doorway. You so much as trip, and you¡¯re a dead man!

    ¡°Tazaro?¡± She called to him.

    He didn¡¯t respond, still trying to will his feet to move. He managed another strained, small step, and his hand gripped the cold rail, hard. The amount of give in the rail did nothing to bolster his confidence in the ledge¡¯s foundation.

    ¡°Hey, wait a second,¡± Sheeva spoke, stepping close and stopping him with a hand on his chest. With a gentle push, she urged the terrified man back into the building, then gathered a pool of energy into her palm.

    The warmth of the building, coupled with the touch of her hand upon his cheek and the rush of warmth that followed caused Tazaro to suck in a breath of fresh air, and as the rigidness of his body finally faltered, he grasped at the support beam at his back that she had apparently pushed him against.

    ¡°Sorry¨CI¡¯m sorry. I was trying to get out there¨Cyou need me with you, don¡¯t you?¡± He babbled, then stopped as her hand caressed his cheek. He blinked, then stared at her, absolutely dumbfounded when she held his face in her hands. Another wave of calm swept through his body with whatever spell she was casting on him, and he could no longer stand.

    She followed as he slid down the post and sat on the floor, an apologetic and understanding expression on her face.

    ¡°You¡¯re afraid of heights, aren¡¯t you.¡± She pointed out. ¡°My apologies. I didn¡¯t know,¡± She said softly.

    Rather than soft and smooth, her hands were calloused in a pattern Tazaro assumed would match the frequent grasp of a sword or knife, and as his heart returned to pounding in his chest from its sudden arrhythmic beat, he felt his cheeks heat.

    ¡°It is alright to be afraid.¡± She assured.

    Ashamed, Tazaro broke eye-contact.

    ¡°Well, not right now, it isn¡¯t,¡± He grumbled.

    Sheeva ¡°tsked,¡± trying to think of a way to encourage him onto the ledge without fear.

    ¡°You know, the clouds have broken, and the moons are out. I find it helps to look out at them, rather than at the¨CShe paused, not wanting to remind him of anything related to the ground. ¡°Uh, at the horizon.¡±

    ¡°Besides that¡­¡± Sheeva sighed, reluctant to bring up the fact. ¡°You are right. I do need you out there with me, otherwise I can¡¯t make that spell work in the way we need it to,¡± she admitted. ¡°And there¡¯s little time to think for anything else.¡±

    Slowly, Tazaro nodded.

    ¡°Okay,¡± He agreed, getting to his feet. Sheeva assisted, both hands in his while she encouraged him back towards the door.

    Nearing it, he felt less anxious than he had before, and wondered what kind of spell it was that she had cast on him. Whatever the case, it worked really well in keeping his body warm and his thoughts light and fuzzy.

    The intense humidity on his face was the first thing he noticed, and when he went to look around, Sheeva stopped him with a light tap of a curled finger beneath his chin, directing him to look up to the night sky.

    ¡°Don¡¯t look around. Look up,¡± Sheeva reminded him, slowly stepping back to urge him out of the doorway.

    Silka, the bright, blue planet in place of the gem atop Impi¡¯s head that occasionally formed the glowing stone imbedded in the spearhead of the Abraxas constellation held in its tiny, devil hand was glimmering brightly tonight, and Tazaro fixed on it as he allowed Sheeva to lead him further onto the ledge.

    Sheeva closed her eyes for a moment as she paused, then opened them once the same hum and tingling in her nose formed. The strands were thinner now, and as they weaved together, they only formed a thread, floating in the wind as they disappeared into the trees to the west, though an even thinner strand veered northwest.

    ¡°It seems I can determine how far away someone is with this. Fascinating.¡± She muttered.

    Tazaro dropped his head, not realizing she had already been trying to track his mother down.

    ¡°There are two paths; one to the forest to the east, and one floating northwest, though¡­I assume that might be your father.¡±

    ¡°Hm,¡± was Tazaro¡¯s flat response.

    ¡°Something wrong?¡± Sheeva asked, wondering if the strands would lead to someone regardless of whether or not they were alive. ¡°Is he dead?¡±

    Tazaro¡¯s face scrunched even more as he scowled.

    ¡°Tazaro, I need to know. Please. I¡­¡± She paused, not wanting to unnecessarily worry him. Perhaps, the spell only worked on people that were still alive, though she had no way of knowing. ¡°I would not ask if it wasn¡¯t important.¡±

    Tazaro relented with a heavy sigh.

    ¡°Not that I know of, but he sure seemed alive when he left twenty years ago.¡±

    Sheeva held her tongue. Whatever lie beneath that seemed pretty dreary, but she had a feeling it was related to the death of his sister and Mildred and Luka¡¯s first-born.

    Eager to distract him from the dreary reminder, Sheeva gave his hand¨Cthat she apparently, still held¨Ca gentle squeeze and smiled.

    ¡°Thank you. You¡¯re doing well out here. I don¡¯t think I would have gotten this far if it weren¡¯t for¨C

    She stopped, and they both turned to look as the whir of the lift sounded out. They hurried inside just in time to see the top of it disappear beneath the floor they were on.

    Sheeva rushed to the edge of the floor and leaned over the rail, peering down to the first level.

    A group of guards were heading up the stairs, already swarming up the seventh flight of stairs. They had six more flights to climb until they reached the top.

    ¡°Ah, crap!¡± Sheeva grunted, pushing herself off the rail in hustle as she made her way back to Tazaro.

    ¡°We¡¯re stuck. There¡¯s guards coming up the stairs, and without the lift, we can¡¯t¨C

    ¨CWe¡¯re stuck?¡± Tazaro blurted, seriously worried for what the future lie in store.

    Throwing cluckatrice through people¡¯s windows was a laughable thing, and he, Vincent, and Micah were lucky that they hadn¡¯t been given more community service time than they had been.

    Breaking and entering into the clock tower was another thing, and he doubted their ability to talk their ways out of it¨Ceven if Tyler happened to be a part of the crew.

    If she had somehow been tied to the death of the man she¡¯d accidentally killed, Sheeva didn¡¯t think she would be able to talk her way out of this one¨Cnot to mention, she¡¯d finally found her target, and wasn¡¯t about to spend time wasting away in a cell when she could be taking him down.

    As the sounds of clinking swords came closer, Sheeva rushed to Tazaro and urged him out of the door to the shoddy rail. Hopefully, there would be some sort of ladder to a previous floor that they could scurry down to give the guards the slip, but as they ran, full circle around the perimeter, there were no ladders to be found.

    ¡°Shit!¡± She hissed, fueled by growing panic as it began to set in. As the noise grew nearer, they backed away from the door and into the corner of the ledge.

    Tazaro felt the rails at his backside and foolishly turned to look, able to see the vast plaza. The closed stands looked like specks amid the glowing streetlamps. He groaned as the pit of nerves welled in his stomach and his mouth soured. His free hand found the sleeve of her shirt, and he grabbed it, eyes drooping closed as the chill of the rail registered beneath his clothes, further driving the ice through his veins.

    ¡°You should go¨Cyou can fly out of here, right?¡± He muttered, feeling the heat radiate from her head as he felt his own drop to rest its forehead against the back of her skull. The raspberry vanilla scent of her shampoo wafted into his nose and soothed him a little bit.

    Hmph. Noble, indeed! He thought, trying to shuffle her behind him as the noise of the guards came closer. They were at least climbing onto the last floor by now.

    Both of them froze as the group of guards shuffled out of the building.

    ¡°Stop, both of you! You¡¯re under arrest for breaking and entering!¡±

    Sheeva pressed her knuckle into his shoulder blade in an attempt to signal what she was planning to do.

    ¡°Tazaro, turn around and face me. We have no choice but to fly,¡± She whispered.

    ¡°What?¡± He barked, turning his head so quickly it spun. She grabbed his jacket, turned him to face her, and jerked him close.

    ¡°Hold on to me as tight as you can,¡± She insisted while wrapping her arms around his torso.

    ¡°Hey, I said stop!¡± The guard repeated, charging towards them, thundering footsteps shaking the unstable ledge.

    ¡°Oslepit!¡± Sheeva commanded, and Tazaro heard the confused screams of the guards as they cried out about being suddenly blind.

    In the next second, Sheeva fell over the ledge. Tazaro went tumbling over with a deep-chested scream stuck in his throat as he felt gravity tug and jerk at his guts. He clung to her as tightly as he could, managing to wrap his legs and lock them around her waist in terror. He squeezed his eyes shut as the ground came hurtling towards them, then tensed as he felt the sudden jerk and stop at a mighty flap of her wings.

    If his limbs had not been locked firmly around her torso, he would have slipped and turned to pudding on the ground.

    They spiraled up into the sky above the buildings and past the clock tower as she curved around it to veer west. Thinking the worst of it was over, Tazaro opened his eyes to look. Seeing the town below as though he were standing above a miniature recreation of the city made his eyes almost pop out of his skull, but as it registered how high up they had to be to see a clear layout of the streets, the twelve shrines, and their connecting plazas, his mouth soured and he squeezed his eyes shut again.

    His hands hurt with how tightly he clung to her, and he was sure he heard the whistle of an arrow as it shot past his ear. He felt a burning sensation rip through his body from the back of his head as she cast some sort of spell on him, and as he felt the dulled brunt of the impact from something tiny, metal, and cold in the small of his back, Tazaro slowly realized an arrow would have pierced him through if she hadn¡¯t.

    A gust of wind from beneath them brought the scent of dirt and cornfields, and as he felt the gut-wrenching pull of gravity as it carried them higher into the sky, he cringed from the ascent and shivered from the chilly air.

    When the thundering sound of blood coursing to his ears subsided, he heard the flapping of wings, and as he felt a strange pull and shift of the rushing wind, he felt himself relax a little. They slowed their escape, and when her arms cradled his torso and held it against her, it helped tether his shocked brain.

    Tazaro peered open an eye to look, then the other snapped open. The two feathery wings moved in sync, cutting through the air effortlessly as they craned up and stretched out, then billowed out like a sail in the wind as they caught air and propelled them along.

    ¡°Holy shit.¡± He gasped, mesmerized as he watched them move gracefully. As his sight fixed on the night sky above them, a wave of serenity flooded him from head to toe. The stars were so close, he imagined he could reach out and touch them if he desired to.

    ¡°You were right; seeing the night sky like this is really something!¡±

    Curious, he reached out his hand, amazed with how the back of his hand appeared against the sea of bright, twinkling clusters. His palm cooled rapidly, the sweat drying off in the wind. He returned his arm back around the middle of Sheeva¡¯s back and took in the closeness of the moons. He swore he could see the jagged surface of Celeste beneath the shadow Kursu cast upon it.

    ¡°Is this-is this what flying is-is like? It¡¯s, it¡¯s incredible.¡± He asked, attempting to look around even more. She briskly brought her hand to the side of his face and forced him to stare back at the cosmic span above them.

    ¡°No, don¡¯t. Look up.¡± She ordered shortly, a tenderness to her voice he hadn¡¯t expected.

    He followed her instruction, letting his eyes take in the wondrous sight, a beaming, cheek-to-cheek grin on his face.

    His eyes trailed along her wingspan from tip to as much as he could see of the other as they straightened out. The end feathers flickered in the wind, and he smiled, filled with childish curiosity.

    ¡°You don¡¯t need to flap them all the time?¡± He wondered aloud. He felt her shake her head.

    ¡°No. This is gliding. Riding the wind. Like birds do.¡± She answered.

    ¡°How else does it work?¡±

    He felt her head turn to look at him but didn¡¯t dare look back, worried he might be tempted to look around and eventually, down, to see just how high up he was.

    She explained how she could turn left and right with simple angling of her wings, and he paid close attention to how the respective wing stiffened and tilted itself, shuddering from thrill as he felt the shift of balance and changing of wind while it rustled through his hair.

    ¡°You know, for a first-time flyer, you are handling this well.¡±

    ¡°Y-yeah? You think so?¡± He asked, flattered. The bashful grin spread on his face, but he kept it hidden against her shoulder.

    A moment of silence passed between them, broken only by the occasional flap of her wings to carry them further above the treetops, evident by the swishing of leaves he could hear. Tazaro felt a tingle in the back of his head and heard her mention something about looking for a clearing to land with.

    He watched the wingspan tilt to an almost vertical position and felt the slow, controlled descent as they spiraled down into the clearing.

    ¡°When I tell you, let go.¡± She ordered.

    He expected her to drop him hard onto the ground, but as he hit grass with a soft flump, he snapped open his eyes just in time to watch her swoop her legs beneath herself to land gracefully on her feet. She took a few wobbly steps to work out the rest of her momentum, rubbing her sore arms.

    Tazaro dropped his gaze to the forest floor, then looked up at the sky from where they¡¯d just been. It seemed so far away, and he felt the crestfallen drag on his face at his longing to be back among the stars again despite his morbid fear of heights.

    She waved her hand, and her ball of light rose from her palm and hovered behind her head to illuminate the way. Tazaro had just gotten to his knees when she approached and set her hand on his head, focusing. After a short moment, she turned away and stepped off in the direction, pausing to wait for him to get to his feet and stand.

    ¡°Your mother is not far, now, though exactly how far, I do not know how to tell. I will test that out when this is all over. For now, we travel on foot. I do not want to give Llyud the heads-up that we are on our way.¡± She announced, shuffling her jacket as she retracted her wings.

    He followed her into the thickening brush from the clearing they¡¯d landed in. He caught a branch before it swung back to slap him across the face and sent her a scornful look. It quickly disappeared as he realized she¡¯d been looking back at him, a conflicted expression on her face.

    ¡°Once we get your mother back, I am going to leave Roussell.¡± She announced, taking a few steps forth. She stared at him again for a moment, then shook her head, feeling she owed an explanation even though he hadn¡¯t asked.

    ¡°Llyud has kidnapped your mother and burnt your home to the ground.¡± She paused, and took a deep breath, and felt her expression soften. ¡°It is my fault you and your mother are wrapped up in this. I think I should not have stayed with her as long as I have.¡±

    She scowled and kicked a rock along the path she followed, sulking. Tazaro watched it roll and bounce before it disappeared into the darkness.

    ¡°Conceited of me to think I could keep everyone safe!¡± She spat, picking up her pace. Tazaro did his best to keep up, unable to think of anything to say that would convince her that, at the least, no one was blaming her for anything.

    They carried on for a good while, only stopping after the light flickered a couple of times, no longer having constant focus. Sheeva grabbed a stick and made a clearing in the dank, damp decay littering the ground, arranged some bracken and branches, and blew a breath of fire to light it.

    Once they had a decent pile of dying embers, Sheeva announced that she would try to sleep. After setting some wards, she curled up at the base of one tree, and Tazaro curled up at another, shuffling into his jacket to help keep himself warm. It didn¡¯t take long for either of them to fall asleep.

 Chapter 9: The Circle of the Twelve Gods

    Sheeva jumped as she stirred, feeling the fuzzy crawl of something across her skin. She swatted at the perpetrator and looked; a hairy, giant spider had decided to make its way across the warm flesh of her face. Unnerved, she stood out of the crevice of the tree and brushed the rest of herself off. Tazaro was asleep a little way away, and the sky began to lighten as dawn broke through the trees.

    Her back ached from stiffness, and as she stretched, she winced as she felt a knot pinch along her spine. She reached for her backpack and took out a small pouch of water and a bag of medicine. She took out three small cubes and popped them in her mouth, chewing them up and then swallowing them down with the water.

    She headed for Tazaro and shook him awake, and he jumped slightly.

    After standing and stretching out the stiffness in his muscles, Tazaro blinked at the small, red pellet, slowly recognizing it as the same energy pellet as the night before.

    ¡°What¡¯s in this, anyway?¡± He asked. ¡°Is it illegal drugs?¡± He added as a small joke, but when her face soured, he regretted saying anything at all.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± He quickly offered.

    ¡°Crushed bread, mixed nuts, dried peas and beans, sugar, a small amount of coffee, and honey.¡± She answered before drinking deeply from her water pouch.

    ¡°Hm.¡± He pressed his lips together to prevent himself from saying anything offensive. He braced himself for the worst since he hated peas and put the entire thing in his mouth. He chewed it fast, then slow, surprised. He only tasted the sweetness of sugar and nuts. He chewed it thoroughly before swallowing the strange mixture. Even the texture was palatable, if a bit pasty like peanut butter. He swallowed it down with a few healthy gulps of the water she handed him.

    ¡°Huh. It tastes good. Did you make this?¡± He asked. She nodded. She grabbed her water pouch and chugged again, then laid back her head to rest some more. Her body still felt heavy, and she doubted her ability to walk it off, much as she wanted to.

    Still, she crawled to her feet, set her hand on his head, focused, and determined their direction again. Curious, she plucked a piece of chestnut hair out of his head and tested out whether or not she could simply use that, relieved to find that it worked.

    ¡°So that I do not have to keep invading your personal space, I am going to take a lock of your hair.¡± She announced. He stood at her behest, holding still as she took a knife and cut off a lock of hair, then tied it together with the spare piece of twine she¡¯d apparently still held onto from the gift he had given to her a couple of weeks before. She stuck it in her pocket, heading off deeper into the forest.

    What felt like a few hours passed as they continued on their path. Tazaro curiously looked around at the view, wanting to memorize the way in case they needed to backtrack. The canopy of the trees was almost too thick for him to see the sky, the tree branches reaching as far as they could. If it were nighttime and foggy, they would have been something incredibly creepy.

    Birds called for each other, and chipmunks skittered across the ground, chasing their mates or foraging for food. Tazaro was sure he¡¯d seen a stag or two in the distance, and when they paused to watch a family of quail pass the road, he watched in awe.

    His nerves grew as he wondered how his mother was doing, and it made his stomach taut and mouth sour. Hopefully, she was giving them hell and had maybe given someone a bite on their hand or a good bruise from a randomly aimed kick. He looked up in surprise when they stopped in a clearing, and he took a moment to look around. It seemed like a makeshift crossroads.

    He watched Sheeva retrieve the lock of hair from her pocket to focus, and let her work her magic while he continued to take a look around. A large circle of twelve stone slabs, donned with tapestries containing the sigils of the gods, encompassed the clearing, and what seemed to be an altar made of rock stood in the middle of it. The tapestries fluttered in the wind, and Tazaro felt a chill run up his back, feeling they¡¯d gone somewhere they shouldn¡¯t have.

    To his right, and what he assumed was north thanks to the status of the god on the stone, stood Hyles, king of the twelve gods, depicted by a regal, emerald tapestry and a gold crown, with gold trimmings and embroidery of his name. Typically, he was patron to royalty, though Tazaro somehow always felt that the people in charge were only on their pedestal because some ridiculously charismatic bastard had duped others into thinking they were ¡°Hyles incarnate¡± hundreds of years ago, and no one dared to question the system.

    When he didn¡¯t see her beside Hyles, Tazaro looked for Hyperia and found her across from the god-king. Abnormality aside, here stood the goddess of fertility and life, though ironically a patron to hunters. Hyperia and Hyles were the first gods to give birth to any Sferrans, specifically, Vivroans, that populated the continent. Embroidered into a matching emerald tapestry, Hyperia¡¯s sigil was a majestic bow, rumored to be crafted from beechwood with a fine thread that she¡¯d crafted from her own fair locks and weaved herself as the drawstring. An arrow of holly was knocked on the line, signifying her unyielding loyalty to her husband as she swore to protect him even from the other gods, should they arise in revolt as Abraxas had.

    Tazaro turned around to look for Abraxas¡¯s slab if it was even present, but his place wasn¡¯t on the left of Hyles. He stopped as he saw a shattered, toppled stone to the east with a faded, once-crimson mudded tapestry that had housed respect for the trickster god. He supposed the craftsman had set Abraxas toward the east thanks to the pranks and outright criminal wiles he¡¯d committed overnight as dusk fell over Sferra.

    Regardless of the reason for the traditional break-away, according to the myth, three brothers, Hyles the God-King, Abraxas the Ravager, and Vokken the Wise, were born to the cosmos.

    Abraxas was originally destined to be the first-born of the twins, but was cheated by Hyles in the womb, and ended up being born second, so instead of being crowned as king and tasked with instilling organization to the mess of the cosmos, Abraxas was forced to take up the torch in dealing with the fallout of chaos¨Ca balanced system of order and entropy, of checks and balances, of life and death, and so on. Beccause of this and his brother¡¯s deceit, Abraxas became inconsolably bitter, though begrudgingly carried out his job.

    Once enough order and chaos had been balanced and the sun, stars, and planets were formed, the cosmos then gave birth to triplet sisters: Giovina the synergist, goddess of the waters; Hyperia, the sentinel, and goddess of the hunt; and Tovah, the saboteur, goddess of the winds.

    Both Hyles and Abraxas wished to woo the beautiful Hyperia, and when the two brother¡¯s frustrations threatened to destroy the foundations of what they had all built, Vokken suggested that each god be granted nine days to convince Hyperia to marry them¨Ca week on Sferra, a planet designated to foster life. Deterred by Abraxas¡¯s spite and and anger towards Hyles, Hyperia chose to marry Hyles. Within five weeks (one month in the Sferran Calendar Year), they were expecting, and after twelve months, they gave birth to the first of the five races of Sferra: Vivroans.

    Although Hyles had called Abraxas to be their godfather, the fact that it seemed out of pity fueled a fire in Abraxas¡¯s heart. Jealous, blind to Tovah¡¯s confession of love, and driven to uncontested hate, Abraxas visited the land to unleash the chaos he¡¯d been in charge of controlling.

    Angered that their peaceful creations were sullied and heartbroken by the hardships their children now faced, Hyles and Hyperia denounced Abraxas as godfather and banned him from the court.

    As scorching fires, splitting earthquakes, and raging tornados destroyed the singular mass of land and eventually broke the continent into five, several Vivroans stood out to the gods with their accomplishments in struggle as the remaining gods watched in interest: Alkurik, Zira, Lucassen, Fidelia, Valrigard, and Alena. Impressed, the six were plucked from the world and set among the cosmos as champions for the remaining five; Giovina was granted a selection of two, since it was her control of the oceans, lakes, and rains that eventually calmed the raging fires and eruptions of volcanoes that terrorized the lands.

    Alkurik, champion of Hyperia, was given the title ¡°God of the Harvest.¡± He was a man who¡¯d harnessed the earth to grow, mix, and select crops resistant to disease, pests, and drought in order to feed the hungry.

    Zira, champion of Giovina, was given the title ¡°Goddess of the Home and of Family.¡± She was a woman who worked to rally communities together and lead them into more positive circumstances, uniting and convincing people to turn over a new leaf to improve their quality of life.

    Lucassen, champion of Tova, was given the title ¡°God of Entertainment.¡± He was a blind minstrel who roamed Vivroa and preached and sang the tales of the gods to those who would listen, and distracted the people from misery as he regaled them with jaunty tunes from a lute. His songs and melodies filled her with hope and reinforced the unrequited love she held for Abraxas.

    Fidelia, champion of Vokken, was given the title ¡°Goddess of Justice.¡± Though she was an acolyte of Vokken, her breakaway and desire to help settle matters of dispute were commended. Honest, fair, and just, her ultimate decisions were generally met with overall agreement by the people, and communities held her in high regard.

    Valrigard, champion of Hyles, himself, was given the title ¡°God of strength,¡± though it was later changed to the ¡°God of War¡± following the uprising and squish of Abraxas and his army of Ta¡¯hal.

    And finally, Alena, the second champion of Giovina, was given the title ¡°Goddess of Healing.¡± She was a woman who roamed Vivroa in search of healing methods and remedies, which she would, in turn, use on those who were afflicted or injured.

    As the new gods and goddesses mingled and settled with partners, the remaining four races of Sferra were born.

    Valrigard, with his red eyes, and Alena, with her dark hair, placed their children on the south-eastern desert island, Cruinia, with the expectation that the harsh, desert land would make them tough, but compassionate to others.

    Vokken, with his black hair, and Giovina, with her blue eyes, placed their children on the north-eastern rainforests of Tarrakk, where pools of knowledge and a vast range of wildlife would keep their children well occupied with things to learn about and see. Of course, the island had been a complete, singular mass before the distortion of the war between Cruinia and Tarrakk left the island in parts, with some chunks of land floating in the air.

    Lucassen, with his cloudy, lavender eyes, and Fidelia, with her tan skin, placed their children on the north-western island, Pacem, with the expectation that the tall mountain would remind them to remain humble, kind, and level-headed in times of adversity.

    Finally, Alkurik and Zira, both with green eyes, placed their children on the rich, fertile lands of Pyurita, soil enriched by the ashes from the volcano that now lay dormant. They had mastered the art of crop rotation, as well as hybridizing a variety of multi-seasonal crops, so that their people could be fed continually throughout the year.

    Excommunicated from the court of the gods, Abraxas roamed the lands of Sferra. When he happened upon a pair of brothers¨Cprinces, and as the younger of the two wished for unbeatable power and undeniable access to the throne, Abraxas found himself sympathetic to the man¡¯s wishes, made a deal, and thus, the first Ta¡¯hal was born¨Ca creature of insurmountable power that served Abraxas not in life, but in death.

    From then on, the mad-god slowly amassed an army of Ta¡¯hal made from the five races in an attempt to overthrow and force Hyles from the court and demand Hyperia as his own. The attempt was mercilessly squashed, and Abraxas was instead banned and forced to wander the universe in loneliness and exile.

    Or so the legend goes, Tazaro reminded himself.

    Curious to know who¡¯d claimed the west-facing slab, Tazaro had to admit that he was surprised to find, amid a matching crimson background, the thunderbolt sigil for Tovah and not Valrigard. But, as he thought about it with his chin in his hand and fingers drumming against his cheek, he supposed it made sense; Tovah¡¯s unrequited love for the once-witty Abraxas surely still counted as a ¡°love.¡± Being the goddess of the winds, when windstorms would rage across the land, and the skies would pour buckets of rain, it was said that she was mourning her loss in a hysteric rage.

    Discarding the typical lineup, Tazaro looked to Hyperia to see who the architect had chosen as her right-hand. Here stood Alena, Hyperia¡¯s right-hand assistant and maid, who became a healer to Valrigard¡¯s armies out of a reluctant necessity, though fought to uphold her core beliefs through the horrid war. She healed friend and foe with an open mind, even going as far as to voice her understanding of Abraxas¡¯s plight in the hopes that he might feel heard and give up his losing battle. As such, she was patron to clinics, hospitals, and even the apothecaries. Her sigil was an infinite spiral of stars.

    As he followed the intended pattern, across from Alena stood her husband. The great Valrigard, commander of Hyles¡¯s armies, took Hyperia¡¯s usual spot to Hyles¡¯s right, depicted by his broadsword, made of unbreakable metal and with an edge so sharp, they told stories of the giant barbarian cleaving groups of enemy Ta¡¯hal in two with one swing. It was said that the monstrous behemoths were bred by Hyperia in agreement that they needed something ¡°bigger and more dangerous to hunt.¡± Due to cockiness and inflated ego, their foe proved too great and escaped into the world to wreak havoc on Sferra. As Alena tended to Valrigard¡¯s wounds, he learned his lesson in humility.

    Lucassen¡¯s slab was sandwiched between Tovah and Valrigard, and Tazaro assumed the entertainer¡¯s wife stood across from him. While they had not done much before the war, they had worked to help restore efforts afterward, channeling souls back into the world. Lucassen¡¯s sigil was a white lute against a slate-colored fabric, and he had even gained a tree named after himself that Tazaro rarely got to work with, Lucassen Birch, whose heartwoods were often used to craft instruments. With his wife Fidelia, they would spectate as Sferrans lived their lives, and Tazaro wondered how many times they¡¯d probably laughed at his.

    Fidelia¡¯s sigil was a pair of scales. Fitting, considering that, upon death, a spirit was said to be weighed against an icon summing up whatever greatness they had achieved in life. A pen for an accomplished writer. A sword or shield for a mighty warrior. Tazaro felt a chill sweep over him as he briefly wondered what he would be weighed for. He sighed, supposing that, whatever the decision, it was just and true. Fidelia¡¯s caricature was often seen hanging around those in positions of law and order.

    To Hyles¡¯s left, the twisted maroon yoke for the god of harvest and the earth, Alkurik, stood, suggesting that, despite their hardships, maybe Hyles wouldn¡¯t abandon Sferrans to simply die of starvation. He had to admit, he was surprised that Alkurik¡¯s sigil wasn¡¯t the rich, red, nutritional Abelas Root, but when he considered that the banner hanging here was pretty red itself, perhaps it was a subtle nod to the god¡¯s favorite snack. He was the patron for farmers and herders, who tended to be incredibly, stubbornly devout.

    Because, surely, without Alkurik¡¯s blessing, the crops would fail. Tazaro thought sarcastically. Of course, this was all based on the silliness of the ancient times, he reminded himself.

    Across from the farmer was the farmer¡¯s wife, Zira, goddess of home, love, and family. Her trilithon, with one post a maroon and the other green, with the lintel across the top an interwoven mesh of the two colors, signified the trust and supports needed to raise any situation towards success. She was said to assist the goddesses in the birth of their children and helped Alkurik in his work by tending to his flocks of animals. Of course, this made her the patron of midwives, marriage temples, and even orphanages. It was, supposedly, why doorframes mimicked the trilithon: to remind everyone inside that the space they occupied was home, even if a home away from home.

    To Alkurik¡¯s left stood Vokken, and Tazaro felt a flash of gratitude that this partnership had carried through, considering Vokken was the god of wisdom and wine.

    Who better to have as your buddy than the one who could supply you with the materials to get wasted?

    His sigil was a bright, silver goblet and a thick, parchment scroll on a lush, purple background. Libraries across Vivroa were adorned with the criss-cross of scrolls, though everybody knew that, if they could have gotten away with it, they¡¯d probably have a big wine-goblet instead. Most sages catered to Vokken, though some dabbled in prayers to Alena and Fidelia, and Tazaro figured this to be a form of enlightenment, if not a peacock¡¯s flaunting of: ¡°oh, how wise and pious we are!¡±

    Finally, Giovina, wife to Vokken and sister to Tovah, whose sigil was a pair of koi swimming playfully at each other¡¯s tails, resembling the teeming masses of fish available in fresh and saltwater bodies. Giovina was said to catch her sister¡¯s tears as they wet the land, collecting the billions of drops and placing them in the world¡¯s lakes, rivers, and oceans. He didn¡¯t know if the oceans stretched beyond the thick, dense fog surrounding Vivroa and the four islands, but he assumed that Giovina dumped the excess tears there, too. Naturally, sailors and fishermen would pray to her for a bountiful catch and implored her to assuage her sister¡¯s outbursts for safe travels.

    He had to admit, he was interested in the new take on the alignment of the gods by whom they loved, unrequited or not, and wondered if the craftsman was trying to make some sort of point.

    An eerie feeling welled in his gut as he thought that, maybe, they¡¯d interrupted someone¡¯s final resting place, and he turned sharply to look at the shattered construct in the middle of the circle. Instant relief swooped, and he sighed. It wasn¡¯t a stone casket.

    Instead, it was definitely a stone altar, cracked and caved in at the middle.

    Tazaro secretly hoped they hadn¡¯t stumbled upon someone¡¯s sacrificial altar, and as he stepped forward to get a better look, he heard a twig snap and jerked his head towards the sound, watching the underbrush carefully. He told himself it was an animal of some kind to downplay the adrenaline that pricked down his spine and into his feet.

    When nothing bounded off, he feared it was not an animal and looked at Sheeva. She was putting the lock of hair in her pocket and checking the time. With her being so nonchalant, he doubted she heard anything at all. Maybe when she focused like this, she was vulnerable and needed to be in a safe place. Taking a deep breath, he stepped in between Sheeva and the direction the noise had come from and turned to face her.

    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°Sheeva, I think there¡¯s someone out there. Hiding somewhere behind me. Behind the slab with the crown banner.¡± He warned, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible, unsure whether she knew or cared about the twelve gods. Probably, she cared less than he did. She gave a curt nod and grabbed the handle of Abraxas, peering around his torso.

    Four knives shot out from behind a nearby tree, headed for them. Sheeva pushed Tazaro aside and knocked two of the blades out of the way with Abraxas. The two she blocked fell to the ground, the third narrowly missed her head, and the fourth drove itself into her shoulder. She yanked the knife out and cast a minor healing spell on the wound.

    ¡°Find someplace to hide. Stay down!¡± Sheeva commanded. Tazaro crawled out of the way towards the broken slab for Abraxas, looking around for something he could defend himself with if need be. Spotting a decent branch, he grabbed for it and held it, ready to swing it like a hefty bat.

    Someone darted out from behind the slab for Tovah at Sheeva''s left, trying to hit her in the head. She grabbed his foot as he passed and threw him across the way. The person collided headfirst into the slab for Hyperia and fell to the ground. He held his head in dizzy pain.

    Tazaro watched in horror as the man¡¯s face seemed to shift, stretching and pulling in some areas or shrinking in others. Big bushy eyebrows replaced thin ones, and a receding hairline reflected the light as the man¡¯s dark brown hair fell out. His nose stretched out, and so did his chin, and his thinned lips curled at them in a yellowed, rotten, long-toothed grin. His green eyes faded to a piercing yellow. They were more unnerving to look at than the man¡¯s teeth.

    "Llyud? How-how did you--Sheeva began, interrupted by his spiteful cackle.

    --Yup, Llyud! The one and only! Though it¡¯s no fun if I have to tell you.¡± He countered, barking with taunting, high-pitched laughter. She grabbed his collar and pulled him to his knees, reared back her fist, and punched him. Dark, fresh blood flowed from his long nose as she broke it, and he cried out from the pain.

    ¡°What did you do to Mildred? How did you disguise yourself as Cecilia?¡± She barked, punching him in the jaw, earning another pained groan. His head lolled against the tree, and he laughed at her, licking up the blood that flowed past his lips.

    ¡°Oo, you think I disguised myself, huh? Tee-hee!¡± He grinned. ¡°How dirty!¡±

    She shook him and slammed his back against the tree.

    ¡°Answer me!¡± She insisted.

    ¡°Vilg oui!¡± He said, spitting blood at her face. She wiped it off on the back of her hand and punched him again, this time on his eye, shattering the bone. Tazaro wondered if she could hit hard enough to squish the man¡¯s eyeball and cursed his imagination as he felt his stomach wrench.

    ¡°Fine, what about Mildred? Where is she? What did you do with her?¡± She repeated, grabbing her knife and holding it against his throat, digging it into his neck to draw blood.

    ¡°Oh, come now! You don¡¯t wanna do that.¡± He explained. She growled and stabbed the knife in the man¡¯s shoulder. He cried out and called her the equivalence of a whore, but Tazaro knew better than to intervene on Sheeva¡¯s behalf. Considering the knife in her hand, she¡¯d probably stab him.

    ¡°And why the fuck-¡± She twisted the blade. ¡°-Not?¡±

    He only laughed at her, a high, crazy, deep-chested bellow of a cackle.

    Neither Sheeva nor Tazaro noticed he had grown a tail that was seeming to vine its way around Sheeva¡¯s ankle; Tazaro was too focused on the horrifying facial reconstruction Sheeva was giving him, and Sheeva determined to get information.

    ¡°I did nothing!¡± He stated, sickeningly sweet and innocently, with a wide, lying grin on his face. ¡°She pleaded with me not to kill you two. Out of the kindness of my heart, I agreed to the deal.¡±

    ¡°Why bring Mildred into this?¡± Sheeva demanded.

    ¡°To piss you off, why else? Besides, you almost got me got me in Anidelle,¡± He answered, referring to their last fight, where they¡¯d beaten the snot out of each other. He had only managed to escape after paralyzing her with an electric shock when the town guards happened upon their bellows of fury in the forest, and intervened. She¡¯d been forced to watch as he fled.

    Sheeva raised her fist to punch him once more, but he broke out of her hold, tightened the tail around her ankle, and tore her feet out from underneath her. She fell backward and hit hard, gasping for air as the impact knocked the wind out of her. Llyud rushed Tazaro and grabbed him by the collar. He slammed Tazaro¡¯s back against the slab for Hyperia, causing Tazaro to wince from the collision of his head with the stone.

    In fury and desperation, Tazaro delivered a kick into the man¡¯s chest, but as the bastard merely grunted at the contact buffered by a thick piece of leather armor, Tazaro realized it didn¡¯t do a thing. With the mutter of a spell and quick sign of a sigil, Llyud shocked Tazaro, further aiding his pain as Tazaro shuddered and convulsed, feeling the needle-pricks in his fingers and toes and the hair on his head stand up.

    Tazaro gaped for air like a fish while his lungs failed, aware of the malfunction of his chest and diaphragm as they spasmed from the disrupting current. The first breath of air he managed felt like life itself and helped reign in his panicking mind.

    ¡°Fascinating thing about loopholes; they¡¯re so much fun to exploit. I may not be able to kill you, but it doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t kill each other!¡± He barked, laughing madly as he grabbed a scalenohedral black crystal; long, sharp, and pointed on both ends, and drove it into Tazaro¡¯s chest.

    Tazaro¡¯s cry was a short, sudden gasp as the wind was knocked out of him once more and pain strangled his brain. He was barely aware of the pressure of something foreign in his gut, too terrified of the silky threads of indigo that began to spread over his skin. Those horrifying serpents that covered his hand and the sound of his horrified shriek in his ears as the pressure of the crystal shifted against the lobe of his lungs were the last thing Tazaro registered before his world went dark.

    Llyud dropped Tazaro and turned to Sheeva, flicked his hand, and fixed his face instantly. Sheeva ignored Tazaro and rushed Llyud, slashing at him recklessly. Llyud dodged the attacks, and as a darkened shine of energy amassed in the center of his chest, Sheeva dodged as he unleashed the terrifying beam.

    The beam shot out and carried with Llyud¡¯s turn as he tried to capture Sheeva in it, but as the beam faltered, Sheeva took her chance. With a reach in, grasp around something squishy, and a fierce jerk as she snatched her hand back, she watched in horror as Llyud¡¯s body began to collapse into a pile of dirt, twigs, and leaves.

    ¡°Wh-what? I-I could have sworn¨C

    She looked at the heart in her fist, finding herself clasping a clump of dirt, instead.

    She opened her hand in surprise, and the dirt fell through her fingers. She rolled a chunk of root between her forefinger and her thumb as she tried to grasp the idea.

    ¡°It was¡­a dummy?¡±

    She looked up and around at the forest, finding that, wherever the beam had shot through, a leveled area now rested, stretching for at least a mile. It had even pierced through the stone slabs, which now lay in shambles.

    ¡°That beam did all tha¨C

    She grunted out a surprised ¡°oof!¡± as Tazaro tackled her to the ground, a knife held above his head.

    ¡°Tazaro, what are you doing?¡± She asked, trying to struggle her way free.

    The whites of Tazaro¡¯s eyes were red, and he seemed almost feral, like he¡¯d been stricken with rabies and left untreated. Sigils burned into his skin, emitting strands of shadow. Sheeva tried to push him off of her. She caught his wrist in her hand as he brought the blade down.

    ¡°Tazaro, don''t!¡± She pleaded, though he still didn¡¯t seem aware that she was even talking to him.

    In desperation, she reached for his throat. Perhaps she could choke him to unconsciousness before he stabbed her. Terror gripped her as her fingers barely brushed his Adam''s apple. She redirected the blade, and he thrust it into the dirt by her head instead, sending a pit of fear into her gut as she screamed.

    ¡°Tazaro, stop!¡± She commanded as she hit his forearm with her fist, trying to break his grasp. When that failed, she looked around for something to grab hold of and hit him with. A branch came into her view, and she reached for it, took hold, and swung it at his head.

    The branch gave a dull, wooden thunk that reverberated into her hand and elbow as the improvised weapon met his head and sent him off to the side. Wanting to get her distance as quickly as possible, Sheeva rolled over and scurried away to safety, stopping beneath a slab. She stared at his body across the way as she heaved for air, hoping she hadn¡¯t accidentally killed him as the worry strangled her chest. Tazaro lay there, appearing to be knocked out, chest rising and falling with his breaths.

    A large blood stain on his chest snared her attention, and, worried, she crawled to him as quickly as she could. She flipped him on his backside and pulled aside his shirt to examine the damage. A gash as wide as her hand rested on his left side. Immediately, she traced the sigil of the leaf of an herbal plant, rested her hand on the wound, and with a bright, flash of green light, attempted to heal it as well as she could.

    The attempt left her dizzy, and she slumped to the ground, swimming with vertigo. Trying to focus on how much of the wound remained between eyelids she had to peel open, it took her a moment to see the extent of her spell. Though it was now pink and quickly on the way to forming a scar, the wound had healed enough that it wasn¡¯t bleeding any longer.

    She closed her eyes and sat there as she swam in dizziness, weighing her options. Leave the man unconscious and defenseless? Forfeit chasing Llyud?

    Blinded by bitterness, she made her decision. Even though he had crafted a dummy, she now had a means to track him, and she refused to let Llyud get away from her again, especially after pulling innocent bystanders into their life-long feud. Immobilizing the bigger threat seemed far more serious.

    She struggled to get to her feet, barely able to crawl on her belly.

    This would not do.

    ¡°Vilg!¡± She swore as her elbows buckled when she tried to push herself up. After taking a few deep breaths, she tried again, managing to barely get to her feet before she stumbled forward and fell on her face as she clambered back to the muddy ground.

    She held her forehead in pain and cried out an infuriated ¡°fuck!¡± of seething anger.

    Aware that her tantrum could potentially draw a predatory animal, Sheeva balled her hands into fists to vent her fury and breathed through gritted teeth as she rested on her hands and knees. After a while, she calmed, feeling the cool of the first floor on her forehead and inhaling the scent of pine needles and dirt.

    As her senses returned to her, she looked over at Tazaro again, who was still knocked out. She chided herself for her immorality. Had she seriously considered leaving him behind in the forest, and with who knew what possessing him? Life was life, regardless of how much she wanted her revenge.

    She grabbed her bag and dragged it with her as she crawled to him, and checked his head to fully assess the damage the branch had done. There was a swollen lump, but as she formed some seals and rested her hand on the spot, she saw no further damage. Rummaging around for her ball of twine, she retrieved it and forced Tazaro onto his stomach, then tied his hands behind his back and his feet together. She hoped it would hold against whatever thing had been controlling him.

    Sheeva looked to the sky, searching for the sun. As it crept closer to the western horizon, she realized it was past mid-day. She checked her watch. It was only about one in the afternoon. Considering Llyud had taken Mildred yesterday, Sheeva hoped she was still alive and strictly being used for bait. Still, as the information that Mildred made a deal with Llyud fluttered in, she found herself fearful. Perhaps, Llyud had been a Ta¡¯hal the entire time.

    As her adrenaline wore off and she began to settle, her shoulder pinched at her, and she looked at it. It was still bleeding, forgotten about in their struggle. She placed her hand on it and attempted to heal it. A weak light glimmered, and her hand dropped, arm disabled. Her head hung in dismay, and as she felt dizzy again, she shuffled back slowly to lean against the slab and closed her eyes as the forest around her spun.

    Forcing herself to think, her brain seemed to latch onto the first thing it could. Llyud was certainly not Sferran, and she hoped that meant that she¡¯d still be able to kill him. Sheeva herself was half-Sferran, and through training, was able to withstand most damage thrown her way, but she did not think she was invincible. It would be too conceited of her to think so.

    Leering in the direction that Llyud had walked away to, Sheeva found herself in a spot of remorse, wishing that their circumstances had been much different. That neither Tazaro, Mildred, or the children she cared for had witnessed any of the events they had, nor been put in harm''s way of any of the dangers they now faced. She found that, despite her bitterness, a kindling of hope lingered that they would somehow forgive her.

    Her lips hardened in the frown on her face as Sheeva realized she might not find the same level of peace among people in the next town she would need to travel to, assuming she failed in her task with this twisted opportunity. She certainly wouldn¡¯t find another person in the outside world that would accept her abnormal Sferran state with such interest and awe as Tazaro had.

    She peeked at the man across the way in contemplation of the level of comfort she found in solitary conversations with him, and her reluctance to part ways surged. With a sad sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest, yearning to know how much more comfortable they might have become. Perhaps, she might have become comfortable enough to ask him to give her her first kiss, as another...secret they might have learned to share.

    She scoffed again and pressed the back of her cool hand against her warm cheeks, mildly furious with herself.

    ¡°You¡¯re an idiot, Sheeva.¡± She grumbled to herself, sulking. ¡°You even ruined that, too.¡±

    With another heavy, sad sigh, she let her head fall forward to rest it on her knees, tire making her eyelids heavy.

    Five minutes of rest. Just five minutes, and then I¡¯ll¨C

    She opened her eyes and jerked her head up in worry as she heard Tazaro, or maybe even the thing controlling Tazaro, come to. It struggled against its bindings, then hissed at her, saying something in its language.

    ¡°I do not understand you.¡± She told it. It stopped, struggled at the bindings once more, and growled.

    Worried that this just might be how it all ended, Sheeva glanced up at the slate-grey banner of the slab she rested beneath. The scales embroidered in the banner waved at her, and, while she had never prayed to any of Vivroa¡¯s gods before, perhaps now, some miracle of magic might happen so that the two of them could survive this ill-fated encounter.

    While Tazaro never deserved to be roped into such miserable circumstances, Sheeva couldn''t say the same for herself, and her chest ached as she pleaded for him to at least make it out of the situation alive and unharmed.

    As the banner continued to ripple in a stronger gust of wind, she fought a scoff at herself and scowled.

    Honestly, what had she been thinking to offer a desperate prayer to some character in stories for children?

    As the being across from her struggled to stand and fell thanks to Sheeva¡¯s restraints, she realized she would have to take matters of survival into her own hands. Subtly, Sheeva reached for her sword. If it managed to break the bindings, she had to be prepared to kill Tazaro if need be. She tried not to think about how unfair it seemed as her heart ached for her sudden, dramatic loss.

    ¡°Release me, Sheeva Jules.¡± It commanded.

    Sheeva blinked and narrowed her eyes at the thing, hoping it didn¡¯t notice the glint of fear in her eyes.

    ¡°How do you know my name?¡± She questioned, raising Abraxas.

    The creature sneered at her from across the way.

    ¡°I control this Sferran now. I have access to his memories.¡± It answered. Sheeva racked her brain, wondering if there was a spell she could use to free Tazaro from the spirit¨Cif that was what it even was in the first place.

    ¡°What¡­are you?¡± She pressed, trying to keep Abraxas raised. It fell as her arm gave out. She made a face of despair, trying not to show she was afraid.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you know? I¡¯m a ta¡¯hal. What, the foreign language wasn''t enough for you?¡± It taunted. It laughed and snapped the bindings with ease, stood, and hunched over as it forced a pair of feathered wings out of Tazaro¡¯s back, nails growing dense and elongating into claws. As it saw the fierce look replace the brief show of terror on Sheeva¡¯s face, it began to laugh even more. She would go down fighting.

    ¡°I assume you still want to kill me? What will become of Tazaro?¡± Sheeva asked, raising Abraxas once more, bracing the hilt against her hip and resting the blade along her leg, treating her sword like a pike. The being across from her stopped, crossed its arms, and held a finger to its chin in mock thought, but as a minute passed, its stance changed as it seriously pondered something.

    ¡°You know, since you knocked me out, I¡¯m honestly kind of impressed.¡± It answered. She scoffed, brushing off what she felt was a false compliment. ¡°As for the boy, he is simply a conduit. A poor sucker caught in the middle.¡±

    Sheeva silenced, thinking. She opened her mouth, then closed it, wondering if she should trust the ta¡¯hal. It had not killed her yet and had only given her an ambiguous answer. If its focus was purely on her, perhaps she could barter to get Tazaro out of this mess. He was stuck in it because of his mother and because of herself. It was not right.

    ¡°He is a bystander. If you need a conduit, let me be it. I only ask that you allow me my revenge.¡± She offered. It looked at her, arching an eyebrow.

    ¡°Is that so, half-breed? Why would I care about a petty thing like revenge?¡± It asked, sneering at her. Mockery of her goal aside, Sheeva¡¯s eyes widened as she wondered how he seemed to know about her circumstances of birth. Could he sense it on her somehow as Mildred could?

    As she remembered it saying it had access to Tazaro¡¯s memories, she cursed herself for opening up as she had; mind-reading was a new degree of terrifying vulnerability.

    She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and prepared herself. Maybe the thing could sympathize.

    ¡°You say you can access memories. Search mine.¡± She answered, snapping them open and staring the ta¡¯hal down. It squinted its eyes at her in question, then held out its hand. A light formed on its palm, and Sheeva stared into it, mind going blank.

    Sometime later, she blinked and looked around. It was still standing there, palm outstretched. She noted the sky had darkened and wondered how much time had passed. When she checked her watch, she learned almost three hours had passed. It made her stomach churn as she realized she had just lost a chunk of time and was unaware of it.

    ¡°Well?¡± She huffed, putting on an impatient act to mask her nerves. It held an amused glint in its eye as it smiled back with Tazaro¡¯s face, unnerving her even more.

    ¡°I think you¡¯ll be a source of great entertainment, Sheeva Jules. I¡¯ll let the boy go and allow you your pitiful revenge. When you¡¯ve got that, you¡¯ll reap some tasty souls for me. I point, you kill. Deal?¡± It asked, holding out its hand for a shake.

    She stared, mildly baffled, as she had expected it to cackle ¡°no,¡± slaughter her, and leave her body to rot in the forest.

    ¡°Do you have a name, ta¡¯hal?¡± She asked. It hummed at her, seeming pleased that she wanted to know a name.

    ¡°It¡¯s Bartholomew.¡±

    Sheeva gave a brief pause. Could she really consider becoming an assassin for such a creature, all for something that, apparently, was petty? Worse, could she allow the innocent people that had already been dragged into her mess to be even further disturbed and destroyed?

    She scoffed, disgusted with a simple ¡°yes¡± to the first question and a strongly determined ¡°no¡± for the second.

    ¡°Very well, Bartholomew. I accept the terms.¡± She agreed, struggling to her knees, clasping its hand to shake. She groaned and doubled over as her stomach wrenched. Her breath caught, and her heart seemed to stop momentarily as an electric shock coursed through her and hurt her toes. Tazaro¡¯s warm hand released her now clammy one, and as Sheeva caught her breath, stuck on her hands and knees, she felt a searing pain in the palm of her hand.

    She looked at her throbbing palm. An unfamiliar sigil burned its way into her skin, sizzling as the red-hot spots died out and scarred over as her body¡¯s healing factor began to do its work. She looked up at Bartholomew, who snarled and set its palm on her forehead.

    Feeling as though a spear had impaled her skull, she fell to her side, unable to move or hardly breathe from intense pain. Her fingers twitched as she felt drool dribbling out of the corner of her mouth, and she barely registered Tazaro¡¯s body fall to its knees and onto its side before her sight faded to black.

 Chapter 10: Beasts of Legend and Trickery

    Hoots of tinker owls and chirps of crickets met her ears as she shot awake and bolted upright. Sheeva regretted the action as her head pounded. As her mouth filled with sour spit, she turned on her side and vomited, trembling. She hoped she did not have a concussion but would not be surprised if she did. Forcing her eyes open in an attempt to keep her brain active, she looked around at her surroundings. She still sat at the base of the slab with the banner of scales, and as she spotted Tazaro, his body still slumped on the ground.

    It was dark and cold, the tree¡¯s spooky branches and the ring of stone epitaphs seeming to cage them in. Sheeva brought her hands to her arms and rubbed them, shivering. As the pain on her palm registered, she stared at it, confused. The light from the two moons illuminated her hand, and she saw the sigil the ta¡¯hal burned into it, the wound split and bleeding a small trickle. She sighed from relief as she thought she might have been dead, foolishly trusting an infamous entity known for acts of evil. With a wave of her other hand, she summoned her orb of light to get a better view, and before the thing flickered out, she saw a criss-cross of chains around a wheel.

    She wondered if it had held up its end of the bargain. Angling her injured hand off the ground, Sheeva crawled to Tazaro and shook him. He stirred, and she let out another tense sigh of relief. Bartholomew had indeed kept to the deal. She wondered where Bartholomew might be and shivered as she thought he might be hidden away in her body somewhere, ready to control her at any time. Her hand nervously raised to her neck, and her fingers began to prod as they worked their way down her body in palpation, wondering if her body had changed, somehow.

    ¡°Wha-what? How-What? It was-It was daytime! What?¡± Tazaro babbled, looking around at the darkness. Sheeva stopped her worried prodding and looked over at him, surprised. Apparently, Tazaro had also lost a chunk of time.

    ¡°You remember nothing? You were under the control of a ta¡¯hal. It tried to kill me.¡± Sheeva explained, wondering if maybe the thing was still inside Tazaro¡¯s body instead. As she glanced him over in the dim light, it didn¡¯t seem like anything had changed.

    ¡°I was what?" He asked, stunned. ¡°Sheeva, I¡¯m so sorry!¡± He apologized, trying to sit up. He found he could hardly move, and just the attempt wracked his body with pain.

    He lay still for a moment as the further proof that Ta¡¯hal existed sunk in, and with it, the astonishing fact that the gods existed.

    Sheeva looked at his worn-out state and took pity, deciding she would help him sit up, but hissed as she went to use her hands to help her stand, open wound on her palm forgotten about. Her bag had ended up by the broken altar, and carefully, Sheeva crawled to it and emptied its contents to find the medical kit she carried. Slapping a fresh bandage on her hand, she breathed through the pain as she tied a knot to hold it in place with the assistance of her teeth.

    He groaned in pain and held his head in his hands, and as he leaned forward to rest his head between his knees, he cried out from a burning, taut pain in his shoulders. When he tensed up to avoid moving more, it only made it worse.

    ¡°Sheeva, why do I hurt so much?¡± He asked through shuddered breath, trying not to move except to breathe. He regretted sitting up at all, feeling it would hurt just as much to lay back down.

    ¡°I hit you upside the head with a branch. I had to stop you somehow.¡± She answered cautiously.

    ¡°Ok, but that doesn''t explain why everything hurts,¡± He groaned. As he recalled the pressure of a crystal being shoved into his guts, he gasped a worried ¡°oh, shit,¡± lifted his shirt, and prodded at his stomach in fear. Instead of the gash that he felt his blood spill from, there was a light-pink scar that stretched four inches along his right side. As he pushed on it, he hissed in pain and, sure enough, he felt the firmness of something foreign within his body.

    ¡°Oh, shit,¡± He blurted, beginning to panic.

    ¡°What?¡± Sheeva asked, fearing that she had missed an injury on his body somewhere in her hastiness. She hurried over to him and looked at what he was inspecting, but couldn¡¯t see anything.

    ¡°That guy-that guy shoved a fucking crystal in my body. I, I remember feeling it; it felt so fucking weird! I don¡¯t understand; there should be a wound, or something, but there¡¯s just this¡­scar, and that crystal¨Cit¡¯s still in there.¡± He blabbered, eyes wide and terrified. He pushed on the spot again, felt the shift, and cried out in disgust.

    Sheeva¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°I, I¡¯m so sorry! I didn¡¯t know!¡± She whispered, genuinely apologetic and guilty.

    Tazaro, panting from terror as his overclocked brain tried to figure out if this foreign object inside of his abdomen could possibly kill him, jerked his head to Sheeva.

    ¡°What?¡±

    Sheeva blinked at him, then forced the words to her lips.

    ¡°You were wounded and bleeding, so I, I healed you. I was¡­I couldn¡¯t just leave you to¡­¡± She began, then trailed off, feeling even more guilty as she recalled she considered leaving him behind to pursue Llyud.

    ¡°You sealed a crystal inside my guts?¡± Tazaro barked, irrational.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t know there was something there! I was trying to make sure you stayed alive!¡± She sassed back, defensively.

    ¡°What-but-now I¨CSo, what? What? Now I just have this fucking crystal in me?¡± He cried, lifting his shirt to look again. It formed an odd, grotesque lump, like a tumor lurking beneath a sick person¡¯s skin. ¡°I mean, look at it!¡± He exclaimed.

    ¡°What am I supposed to do about this?¡± He babbled, staring at his abdomen in horror.

    Sheeva, too, stared at the small lump, and then looked at the knife in her hand. A quick breath of fire would sterilize the thing.

    ¡°Well¡­I¡¯m no doctor, but I suppose I could cut¨C

    ¨COh, hell no! Don¡¯t you dare touch me!¡± Tazaro bellowed, pointing a finger at her.

    From the tip of his finger, a tiny, red flame erupted in a flash before it fizzled out and became smoke.

    He stopped and stared.

    Sheeva stopped and stared.

    ¡°Did you see¨CTazaro began, unsure.

    ¡°Yes. Yes, I did.¡± Sheeva nodded in affirmation. She sat back, pondering, then shook her head.

    ¡°Can you do it again?¡± She asked; even though she had seen it herself, perhaps she was imagining things in a moment of embarrassed vehemence.

    ¡°S-sure. Okay. Um, here.¡± He agreed, then forcefully pointed at her.

    Thanks to the digit that flew towards her face, Sheeva flinched and recoiled, but when nothing happened, she sighed in relief.

    ¡°Oh. Nothing happened,¡± Tazaro muttered, mildly aware that he was slightly disappointed in the back of his mind. Sheeva squinted her eyes in thought for a moment.

    ¡°Here. Try doing this.¡± She offered, trailing her fingers in the air to trace the sigil of a flame. Tazaro followed, and from his gut, felt a warmth that pulled throughout his body.

    ¡°Wow, that feels¨CHe stopped and clapped a hand over his mouth as fire flew from his lips with the breaths of the words he spoke. As soon as he did so, the warmth instantly disappeared, sapping him of energy. It made him dizzy and cold, and he would have fallen over if not for leaning against the base of Abraxas¡¯s monolith.

    Sheeva stared, amazed.

    ¡°You do have magic.¡± She stated in wonder, then furrowed her brow in deep thought. ¡°I had almost forgotten, but I believe the ta¡¯hal may have given you wings. They are gone now, but perhaps they are simply retracted.¡± She added, then sat up as she realized that, like she had when she¡¯d first bared her wings, Tazaro might have giant gashes in his back that had been exposed to the dirt floor.

    ¡°Take off your shirt¨CI need to check your back,¡± She ordered, getting to her feet and stumbling around to his backside. ¡°You might be wounded, and¨C

    She stopped when she saw no wounds, nor any trace of the wings, as she had thought.

    ¡°Oh. It seems the ta¡¯hal fully healed you before leaving your body.¡± She determined, intrigued. She held the thought that the wounds he had sustained might have killed him otherwise, not wanting to terrify Tazaro even more.

    ¡°I did.¡±

    They jumped and turned toward the sound of the voice, and as Sheeva threw the knife she still held in the direction, they watched as it flew straight through and stuck in the bark of a tree. Bartholomew looked down as a current fizzled in the area the projectile had gone through. In the now bright firelight, he could see the leaves on the ground through the skin of his feet. He frowned and squinted at the fact with minty-blue eyes.

    Sheeva could see the trees and bushes behind him, his body transparent as he stepped closer, floating through the remains of the broken stone slab. His skin was scale-like, tinted blue, turning a teal color as it covered his chest and stomach. The edges of his claws wrapped around his upper arms as he crossed them, and a scowl formed on his face, more like a ketze¡¯s jowls and triangular nose than Sferranoid. A torn pair of pants were held up by a rope threaded poorly through belt loops. His legs reminded her of the haunches of a drake, and as she looked at his feet, his claws were incredibly sharp. Leathery wings were tucked in, and unlike hers, the arch of the first joint pointed downwards. As his tail whipped behind him, she saw a curved blade, like bone, that jutted out from the end.

    ¡°My name is Bartholomew. Use it.¡± He growled, stepping towards them, slowing as he realized they did not crunch underneath his feet.

    Tazaro began to shuffle backward in fear, despite how much it hurt to do so but didn¡¯t get far since the cold stone at his back prevented him from getting any space between himself and the monster. He sucked in a breath from the sheer chill, but didn¡¯t dare move to put his shirt back on.

    ¡°Relax, Sferran. I¡¯ll not kill you. Made a deal and all that.¡± He announced, stooping down, balancing himself with the use of his tail. It did not shuffle the leaves about, and Bartholomew realized he would somehow miss that.

    ¡°I thought you said you needed a conduit.¡± Sheeva pointed out, wondering if the ta¡¯hal deceived her.

    ¡°Never said anything of the sort. You came up with that shit on your own.¡± Bartholomew answered, giving a raspy cackle and a toothy smirk. Sheeva scowled at him, then dropped her head in embarrassment.

    ¡°Wait, Sheeva, you made a deal with him? For me?¡± Tazaro asked.

    ¡°You were an innocent bystander.¡± She insisted, trying to keep a straight face. ¡°Besides, I¡­I¡¯m so close to Llyud, now. I don¡¯t want to miss this chance. Can you move?¡± She asked. Tazaro tried to stand, his muscles still aching.

    ¡°No, it still hurts.¡±

    Sheeva sat down, fighting with her impatience, and glared into the flames. She watched Bartholomew stoop down in front of the fire, a worried look on his face, then reach out his arm and stick it straight through. The look on his face turned to one of disappointment. She wondered if he could only have senses through possession of Sferrans.

    She reached over and grabbed her water pouch and a slab of jerky for herself, then tossed the ration bag to Tazaro. He grabbed and took a slab for himself, then tossed it back.

    Tazaro mulled the flavor over with his tongue and sipped on the water pouch she lobbed at him as he mused in silence.

    The man she¡¯s chasing must be absolutely fucking crazy. He¡¯s gotta be, to take my mom just to get back at her, or piss her off, or whatever the hell he wants to do. I hope...she¡¯s not considering using my mother as bait. As a means to an end. No one could be that hellbent on revenge that they would actually do that, right?

    Breaking away from his blaming thoughts, Tazaro reached around to feel his shoulders and wondered if his supposedly new wings were hidden inside his body.

    ¡°Sheeva? How does, uh, baring your wings work?¡± He asked. She stopped chewing and looked at him, annoyed about the fact that they were still sitting here when they could be pursuing Llyud. Her expression softened a little as she reminded herself that she needed to rest just as much as he did, finished chewing her jerky, and swallowed her bite.

    ¡°Similar to a ketze¡¯s claws, I believe, though I am still not sure. I do not know if yours will work the same way or if you have to break your skin to bare them for the second time. I am not even sure if they still exist. I will say it is an excruciating process.¡± She warned.

    ¡°Do you think I could fly, too?¡± He pressed.

    ¡°Hm. Perhaps. These are new bones, new muscles. It might take a while.¡±

    Tazaro warred with his next question, worried she might immediately dismiss him.

    ¡°Would you¡­be willing to help me?¡± He asked anyway. She took a deep breath, thinking.

    She could, but with being so close to Llyud, she did not want to waste any more time than she already had. Also, if she was wrong about him wanting to kill Mildred in front of her, they were on a time restraint. If she managed to kill Llyud and they were safely back in Roussel, she could do it. Maybe, the surrounding hills would be spacious enough that she could teach him to glide and eventually soar. Her lips curled as she imagined them taking a leap of faith off of the clocktower in the plaza in the dead of night.

    If she succeeded in killing Llyud now, perhaps she could take Tazaro with her to the temple and bargain for him to stay. Even though he was not gifted with magic like she was, he liked to create things to help people, and with the possibility of him having wings, it had to count for something.

    She frowned as she remembered the deal she had made with Bartholomew. If she was to be his assassin, she imagined wandering from place to place. If she were to train Tazaro, she would have to take him along. Sure, she had worked alongside traveling caravans, but having a single travel companion was not something she was used to, and not necessarily something she was ready for.

    ¡°Sheeva? I didn¡¯t mean to impose. I¡¯ll figure it out myself.¡± Tazaro stated, taking her silence as ¡°no.¡± She scowled at him.

    ¡°Do not take my silence for dismissal.¡± She ordered with a terse frown. Tazaro blinked, feeling sheepish.

    ¡°Look...figuring it out yourself is dangerous enough. I will guide you through it, but it is not something I can do right now. We need to rest and get moving quickly. We are pressed for time.¡± She answered.

    ¡°Right. Because of Llyud.¡± He stated, voice dripping with displeasure. ¡°I swear, I could strangle that man with my bare hands,¡± Tazaro threatened.

    ¡°You¡¯re not a part of this. You should not¨C¡± She stopped herself, realizing she sounded harsher than she ought to be. ¡°No, I¡­¡± She took a deep breath, then sighed, feeling once again remorseful.

    ¡°Tazaro, I have been through much pain and have¨Cregrettably¨Cmissed out on many opportunities by pursuing revenge. You have a life here; you should cherish that. I do not want for you what I have been through, myself,¡± She stated earnestly. ¡°I¡¯m trying to keep you out of all of this.¡±

    Tazaro sent her a glare and scoffed.

    ¡°That psychopath kidnapped my mother, Sheeva! Whether you like it or not, I am a part of this!¡± Tazaro argued.

    Sheeva couldn¡¯t disagree. Thanks to her, Tazaro was right, unfortunately. She stood, stooped at her bag, retrieved a blanket, and handed it to him.

    ¡°You should sleep. We¡¯ll leave at dawn.¡± She decided, grabbing her sleeping bag and crawling into it.

    Tazaro lay down as well, shivering as the wind sifted through the holes in his torn, bloody coat. He took the tattered thing off and bunched it up for use as a makeshift pillow, and wrapped himself up in the thick, wool blanket. Sleep did not come easily, since each chirp, crack, and hoot echoed in his ears and sent spurts of adrenaline through his veins.

    <hr>

    They paced themselves as Sheeva led the way, their breath forming wispy clouds in the morning chill. A mist spread through the trees, and the cold bit at their noses, red and runny. Tazaro had soaked his handkerchief and had resorted to using the sleeves of his jacket, and his body slouched with tiredness.

    Sheeva was forming a plan as they went, trying to anticipate what she...no, they, she reminded herself, were getting into. Tazaro was good with a chisel and hammer, but they could not count as actual weapons, and she could not fathom him getting into a fistfight with anyone. He did not seem to have the desire. If they got separated, she wondered whether or not Tazaro would be able to defend himself and his mother long enough to escape.

    She hoped she would not miss out on the chance to kill Llyud by being too focused on their safety. To compensate, she decided she would kill Llyud in front of them if need be, rationalizing that Tazaro would accept it since he was now involved, too.

    As the question continued to nag at her and her imagination ran away, Sheeva slowed down and turned to him. She had to know.

    ¡°Tazaro, have you ever fought anyone?¡± She asked. He stopped, bending forward and resting his hands on his knees as he worked to catch his breath. He looked up at her, panting, wisps of hot breath fuming from his mouth.

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°If we get separated, I need to know if you can defend your mother and yourself. So, again, have you ever fought anyone?¡±

    He shook his head.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never had to.¡± He answered. She sighed.

    ¡°But, I¡¯ll learn if you¡¯re willing to teach me. I-I kinda have to, don¡¯t I?¡± He asked, standing up and crossing his arms. He did not seem pleased at the thought as he kicked at the ground and pressed his lips together to avoid pouting in shame.

    His statement surprised her a little. She thought he would be too soft-hearted to want to learn. Though, considering his mother was in danger, perhaps he was willing to do anything to ensure her well-being. She thought back to how Rose had trained her to defend herself and nodded.

    ¡°Very well. I will show you some things.¡± She offered, shrugging off her backpack and untying Abraxas from around her waist.

    They spent some time going over the basics. Sheeva corrected him on the way to punch and taught him how to¨Cif need be¨Cdrive a knife into someone¡¯s body. Tazaro did not want to count how many times she told him not to cover his thumb with his fingers or not to lean forward when he punched, but her patience surprised him a little, even when he hit particularly hard and cried out and hissed when his skin split from striking the bark of the tree. It hurt worse than when a stubborn screw or nut would suddenly give and send them smacking into a part of whatever he was fixing at the time.

    When they stopped, his hands were shaking, knuckles bruised and bloody. As Sheeva cast a spell to heal them and applied bandages to finish the job, he chuckled at a thought.

    ¡°You know, I kinda expected you to smack me upside the head by now or something.¡± He admitted in a slight joke. It only seemed to annoy, and instead of responding, Sheeva hurried to pack up her gear, slung it over her shoulders, and grabbed the lock of hair again. When she focused on gaining their bearings, she found that the strings were much thicker than they had been. She headed in the direction.

    She slowed down, partly to allow Tazaro to keep up, partly because she felt unease about being considered a rough teacher.

    ¡°Like you, I was once new to learning to defend myself. Rose was¡­¡± She paused, taking a deep breath. ¡°Incredibly patient with me. She would be disappointed in me if I did not do the same for you.¡± She admitted.

    ¡°Ah. Well, thank you.¡± He said, crawling over a fallen tree that she quickly jumped over. He wiped off the muddy moss on his pants, wincing as he accidentally brushed his knuckles.

    ¡°She sounds like she was a great teacher.¡± He complimented. She chuckled in bittersweet fondness and nodded.

    ¡°She was a fair teacher but could dish out one hell of punishment when the occasion called for it. And with me, well...¡± She trailed off and huffed at herself. ¡°Mm, never mind.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Were you a troublemaker, Sheeva?¡± Tazaro asked, intrigued by this new, hidden side. She ignored his question and kept her back to him to hide her giveaway smile as she recalled the ridiculous shenanigans she and her friends had pulled as children. Tazaro took her silence and body language as a surefire ¡°yes.¡±

    As Sheeva and Tazaro pushed through a thick spot of tree branches and brush, she stopped suddenly and stooped down, grabbed Tazaro¡¯s arm, and jerked him down with her. A fortress stood in the middle of a clearing, a high watchtower leaning slightly to the side. Her heart pounded in her chest as the zing of adrenaline and worry coursed through her, wondering if they had been spotted in their reckless approach.

    ¡°Shh.¡± She insisted with a finger to her lips.

    She held the lock of hair in her pocket and focused. The strands of light led straight to the door and inside.

    ¡°She is definitely here,¡± Sheeva whispered to Tazaro. He looked and went to dart out to run to the door, and she grabbed the collar of his coat and yanked him back into the brush. He stumbled backward and tripped on a rock, falling on his ass.

    ¡°Fool! Do you want to get your mother killed?¡± She hissed at him, quickly forming some seals and slapping her hand through the sigil that floated in the air. Tree roots sprung out of the ground and wrapped around his body, restraining him. She turned back to the fortress, worried that he might have given away their presence. When no one rushed out to examine things, she turned back to him, still furious. She knelt beside him, grabbed the filleting knife from her boot, and cut the tree root that had wrapped itself around his mouth. He turned and spit out the gritty dirt and weirdly sweet root juice that had seeped into his mouth.

    ¡°What the hell were you thinking?¡± She hissed. Tazaro glared back at her, fighting his bindings.

    ¡°I want to save my mother! Let me go, damn you!¡± He demanded.

    ¡°No! We need to make a plan! It could be a trap!¡± She countered.

    ¡°To hell with planning! We might not have time!¡± He growled.

    ¡°For the sake of all our lives, we need to have a plan!¡± She barked back.

    Tazaro silenced and decided to struggle against the roots in futile efforts instead.

    Crossing her arms, Sheeva turned her back on Tazaro, trying to think about how they were to proceed. Time and time again, she had been hasty in her pounce after backing Llyud into a corner, and every single time, some unforeseen force had prevented her from succeeding in her task.

    ¡°Sheeva! Don¡¯t ignore me!¡± He ordered, still fighting his bindings. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you have done whatever it took to save your mother?¡± He countered. Her eyes widened, and her nose flared in anger as she whipped around, stooped, and slapped him hard, a stinging red hand-print forming on his cheek in seconds.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you ever say that again! I did do everything I could, and she still died!¡± She barked in his face. The look of shock was evident on his face, and he immediately faltered back, embarrassed with his rude self.

    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry. That was, that was low. Forgive me, I¡­¡± Tazaro begged.

    Her chest ached, and her heart cried for her loss. The look of desperation on his face reminded her of her own futile struggle as this was how she had been restrained by Rose during the fight with Llyud that had claimed her life. Sheeva wheeled around and brushed at herself, aware of how her tongue rested uncomfortably in her mouth, gagged by phantom roots. She wiped at her face and shivered as she felt the drops of blood plopping onto her face from Rose¡¯s shielding efforts when Llyud had attempted to run Sheeva through with her own blade.

    ¡°Sheeva?¡± Tazaro called to her. Sheeva blinked and turned back to face him. He had calmed much more, a forlorn look on his face, cheek still bright-red as he pouted in humility. ¡°I really am sorry. I¡¯m worried, but¡­you¡¯re right. We probably need a plan. We don¡¯t know what¡¯s waiting for us.¡±

    Sheeva remained silent for a moment, taking Tazaro¡¯s word as evidence that he would listen to her now. She stooped at his side and waved her hand to release a few of the roots wrapped in a likely uncomfortable fashion around his wrists and neck.

    ¡°Yes, we do. I don¡¯t know what to expect. Before she died, Rose¡­bound me as I have bound you. She didn¡¯t want me to fight. She fought Llyud with my sword, and when he grabbed Abraxas from her and tried to strike me, she took the hit. She shielded me with her body, and it cost her her life. I watched the light die from her eyes.¡± Sheeva explained, feeling the tension pull in her face as she fought back tears. The last thing Rose said was a confession of motherly love, and Sheeva¡¯s face heated with shame, having had the audacity to spend the last few moments of consciousness screaming in fury.

    ¡°Mothers that give a damn about their children are much alike. I can see Mildred doing the same for you, and I¡¯m trying to prevent that. And so, I¡¯m¡­tempted to leave you here so that she doesn¡¯t feel the need to sacrifice herself.¡±

    Tazaro gulped, paralyzed with worry. He hadn¡¯t considered such a thing.

    ¡°I¡¯m...sorry, Sheeva.¡±

    The sounds of the forest filled their ears for a moment, and neither of them looked at each other, wrestling with their own worries.

    ¡°I hate to say this, but how are you going to manage to keep track of her while also trying to keep track of Llyud? She¡¯s blind. She can¡¯t just run away¨Cshe needs someone to guide her, and it¡¯s going to have to be me,¡± Tazaro bargained.

    Reluctantly, she let out a heavy sigh, waved her hand, and released a couple of the roots, still holding his wrists and ankles down in case he decided to make a break for it.

    ¡°Stay close to me. We find your mother, and then you get her and yourself out. Is that clear?¡± She demanded. He quickly nodded.

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± He verbally agreed.

    ¡°Ok,¡± She trusted. She waved her hand, and the rest of the roots unraveled from around his body. He sat up and hissed as he rubbed the dirt out of his raw skin around his wrists and neck.

    Sheeva looked back in the direction of the fortress, then checked the time. It was mid-afternoon, coming upon three o¡¯clock, and the sun was still high in the sky. If anyone was in the watchtower, they would see them running across the grass. She somewhat hoped it was nearing nightfall, so that they might have the advantage of a blinding sun or the cover of night.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to need to wait until nightfall. We must take Llyud by surprise. It will be the safest thing to do at the moment.¡± She began. Tazaro sighed, antsy, but did not protest, not keen on tasting dirt and sweet root juice again. He spat again for good measure as something gritty found its way between his molars.

    He watched as Sheeva grabbed some dirt and molded it into a ball, closed her eyes, and focused. A flash of light formed from her hands, and as she opened them, he saw a yellow bird. The black designs on its wings looked similar to the bird that lived in the workshop. Maybe, it belonged to her, somehow. His skin crawled a little bit as he thought she might have been watching him, and he snorted at himself as he thought that maybe, just maybe, he meant a little more to her than she let on. Perhaps, Sheeva even found him attractive.

    He shook his head at himself, then hid, hoping she hadn¡¯t heard him talking to the bird about her.

    The false bird hopped and chirped at her, then took off, flying off in the direction of the fortress.

    ¡°What are you doing?¡± He asked.

    ¡°Surveillance. There does not seem to be any guards on the outside of the fortress.¡± She answered. She weirdly tilted her head, but Tazaro was more weirded out by the assumed affirmation that she had been watching him.

    ¡°There are no guards in the watchtower, either. This fortress seems to be abandoned.¡± She continued, tilting her head differently. Tazaro remained silent, not wanting to break her concentration, but wondered if her strange head tilts were how she controlled the bird.

    ¡°I see your mother. She is restrained. There is a man in the room that I do not recognize. It appears he is working with him. But...where is Llyud? I find it hard to believe that¨CAch, Vilg!¡± She hissed, screwing her eyes shut and holding her head in her hands in pain.

    ¡°What happened?¡± He asked, worried.

    ¡°Llyud must still be there. He killed the bird. I do not think he knows it was mine.¡± She answered, taking some deep breaths to breathe through the pain.

    Tazaro waited until she was no longer in pain before speaking up.

    ¡°There was a bird in the workshop that has the same, uh, patterns. Is it...yours?¡± He asked bluntly. ¡°So-so you were watching me?¡± He asked.

    ¡°I used Pteryx to check in on the children and Mildred when I was away, too,¡± She attempted to sweep the awkwardness under the rug. ¡°I apologize for slapping you. That was low.¡± Sheeva announced, taking a drink of water. He took it from her as she offered it to him, and drank deeply, though he wondered if it was her subtle way of avoiding talking about things.

    ¡°No, it was low of me to say that,¡± Tazaro admitted. ¡°I-I panicked. I¡¯m still nervous.¡±

    ¡°I understand. I can relate.¡± She muttered. Whether it was to make him feel more comfortable or to make her feel less vulnerable, he wasn¡¯t sure, but as her expression darkened into a scowl, he decided it was the latter.

    ¡°Did you really mean what you said?¡± He asked, admiring her adamance.

    ¡°Every word,¡± She assured.

    At his stunned silence, Sheeva took in a deep, shaky breath, held it, then let it out just as slowly. Her stoic demeanor softened, and she leaned her head back against the tree she sat against.

    ¡°I should rest. I want to be ready for this fight. It had better be our last,¡± She growled, shuffling through her back to find her blanket.

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna sleep? What¨Cyou don¡¯t think I¡¯m gonna try to run off while you¡¯re taking a little cat-nap?¡± He badgered.

    ¡°I have faith that you won¡¯t,¡± She admitted. ¡°But, since you¡¯ve suggested such a thing:

    She trailed some sigils through the air, and as she slapped her hand through it, more roots sprung up from the ground and coiled around his leg, though loosely.

    ¡°Consider this insurance,¡± She answered with a curling sneer. He didn¡¯t like the threat hidden behind the expression. She traced the same sigil on her arm, and as it flashed and faded, Tazaro vaguely understood that she had set up an alarm if he tried to make a break for it.

    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    ¡°Go ahead. Try and run for it while I¡¯m sleeping. I dare you.¡±

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t really gonna¡­¡± He began to protest, then relented¨Che was only kidding himself, considering he had a split-second thought to run away.

    ¡°Can¡¯t believe you can sleep at a time like this,¡± Tazaro grumbled, getting to his feet and pacing the floor. He tried to shake the root away, and it coiled tighter around his calf, trailing up along his thigh She tilted her head to look over at him, frowned, then settled against the base of the tree.

    ¡°This has been my way for five years. You get used to it after a while. Like I said, I want to ensure I am ready to fight. This will be the last time, or so help me.¡± She explained, using her knife to scratch a sigil in the tree. She cast a spell to create the same blue barrier she¡¯d set up in the workshop in the forested area around them. Curled back up in the base of a tree, she crossed her arms and closed her eyes.

    ¡°Will that warding spell work? Are you sure Llyud¡¯s even sferran?¡± Tazaro asked skeptically. She gasped and snapped her eyes open. Fear and worry painted them, and she pulled her knees into her chest to hug them for comfort, struggling with the sudden doubt in her ability.

    ¡°Vilg. I...I used to believe so, until I learned he¡¯s been fashioning dummies from dirt. Trash, too, now that I think of it.¡± She muttered.

    Her eyes narrowed, and her face fixed into a frown.

    ¡°It¡¯s probably how he got past my wards. He¡­he really had been watching me, and for apparently, much longer than I thought.¡±

    ¡°Damn it.¡± She scowled and looked around tiredly, even more uncomfortable.

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye out. You sleep. You, uh, need it more than I do.¡± He offered, picking at the wrappings of his knuckles in nerves.

    With his assurance, Sheeva nestled back and closed her eyes in an attempt to sleep.

    He looked around for something to do and spotted a chunk of wood. He headed for it, then stopped as the root tightened against his leg, almost causing him to trip and fall flat on his face.

    The leash she had him on wasn¡¯t much, apparently being just enough that he could duck behind a tree to urinate if he needed to. His groan tickled his throat as he muffled it to prevent waking Sheeva, and as he looked back at the chunk of wood just beyond his reach, he looked for something to extend his limited reach.

    The clearing didn¡¯t offer much, but he did manage to find a stick long enough that he could shuffle the chunk close enough to reach with as outstretched of a body as he could manage, what with the root coiling tighter, almost painfully so, around his leg.

    Successful, he snatched the chunk up and took out the knife Sheeva had lent him to use in case he needed to, hoping she would not mind it being used to whittle away at something.

    He had gotten a decent project going when he heard a soft ¡®blip¡¯ to his right. He jerked his head in the direction, then stared, open-mouthed, at the ta¡¯hal that towered over him. Bartholomew had to be eight feet tall.

    ¡°You¡¯re so tall! It¡¯s terrifying!¡± Tazaro blurted.

    ¡°And you¡¯re so puny! It¡¯s hilarious!¡± Bartholomew shot back with a smirk.

    Tazaro looked behind the monstrous thing, wondering how he had gotten in without waking Sheeva, who was definitely out by the steady rise and fall of her chest as she snoozed.

    ¡°Wait, how did you get in?¡± He asked. Bartholomew looked around, saw the sigil glowing in the tree bark, and nodded in understanding.

    ¡°I¡¯m a ta¡¯hal. Your pointless spells don¡¯t work on me. But yes, any others would be turned away¨Cincluding that bastard, Llyud.¡± He explained. Tazaro felt relieved with the information that Llyud was indeed Sferran, and made a note to tell Sheeva of it in the morning.

    ¡°What are you making?¡± Bartholomew started, making small talk. Tazaro eyed him suspiciously.

    ¡°Don¡¯t know yet.¡± He answered cautiously.

    Bartholomew reached out his claw for it, and Tazaro stilled at the razor-sharpness and sheer size of the things. It could probably maul the tough hide of Raynak¡¯s Great Quadracorns that grazed in the plains and gut the scaly beasts with no problem.

    ¡°Can I see it?¡± He asked. Seeing no harm in it, Tazaro held out his hand, dropping it into the ta¡¯hal¡¯s outstretched claw. It fell straight through.

    ¡°Oh. Right. Damn.¡± He stated, sitting cross-legged. Tazaro watched as he created a spring with his tail and seemed to balance himself on it.

    ¡°Are all ta¡¯hal like this?¡± He asked, motioning to the ta''hal''s transparency.

    ¡°No. I used to have a body. It must be because I was trapped in a crystal for years.¡± He answered, then laughed about something. ¡°Funny that it¡¯s now trapped in you! Oh, how the tables have turned¨CMy prison is imprisoned! Aha!¡± He cackled, amused.

    ¡°You mean, the crystal that¡¯s now sealed inside my body?¡± Tazaro asked, still unnerved about the idea. Bartholomew nodded.

    ¡°How did Llyud do that¨Ctrap you in a crystal?¡± Tazaro wondered. Bartholomew eyed him curiously, then gave a toothy grin, then cackled, then began to laugh hysterically.

    ¡°¡®How did Llyud do that,¡¯ pah! So you can do it to me, too? Vilg nyet, I¡¯m not telling you!¡± Bartholomew countered. Tazaro nodded and shrugged. The ta¡¯hal had a fair point.

    Tazaro went back to his project, eyeing Bartholomew out of the corner of his eye and occasionally turning to study the creature¡¯s form as the chunk of wood began to take the shape of the ta¡¯hal. As he began to chisel out the tail, he wondered if Bartholomew could use it as a weapon or if it was just a continuation of his spine. He voiced the question, rewarded with a sharp cold feeling jabbing into his back and through the front of his chest. Tazaro looked down at the disturbing feeling and saw the blade sticking out of his chest. Horrified, he struggled to breathe, gaping like a fish.

    When Bartholomew removed it, Tazaro gasped for air, dropping his miniature and backing away from Bartholomew, who gave a wheezing cackle, stood, and floated off into the forest. Tazaro hastily pulled his collar down and looked at his chest, prodding at it with his fingers and checking for blood. There was no damage, and he assumed it was only because Bartholomew lacked a physical presence.

    Tazaro shivered as he gained his wits, then rested his hands on his knees, deep in thought as he waited for dusk.

    <hr>

    Sheeva shook Tazaro awake, and as his brain caught up with him, he wondered how long he had been asleep. He cursed himself for even falling asleep, as he was supposed to be watching out for them.

    ¡°Damn, sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to fall asleep.¡± He apologized. Sheeva shook her head.

    ¡°It is fine. You are only Sferran, after all. You have limits, too.¡± She explained, heading to Abraxas and tying it to her shoulders instead of her waist. She¡¯d need the extra security so that it didn¡¯t flop about as she ran. She looked at her bag, then to Tazaro, weighing her options. Silly, she told herself. It is just a bag.

    ¡°Will you carry my bag?¡± She asked. He stood and nodded, took it from her hands, and set it on his shoulders. He tightened the clasp around his waist. Now that he wasn¡¯t trying to put the thing on while also attempting to run, he could adjust it as he needed, making it much more comfortable than it had been.

    ¡°How do we do this?¡± He asked. She looked in the direction of the fortress.

    ¡°We will approach from the back and sneak around to the front door. Stay close at all times unless I tell you otherwise. When we find your mother, stay hidden if you can until I tell you to run. I want to ensure either the other man or Llyud is dead before you try to escape. Your chances are better that way.¡± She explained, taking a drink from her water pouch and popping an energy cube into her mouth. She handed one to Tazaro, and he took it, doing the same. His body was shaking from nerves, and she noticed.

    ¡°Take a deep breath. Helps to keep your wits.¡± She suggested.

    She stepped through the branches and peered out, scanning the field. It was empty, and there were no torch lights around the fortress, save for the glimmer of firelight from one of the rooms. The moons had yet to rise, the darkness aiding their cover.

    Unease stewed in her gut as she worried it might still be a trap, but she took a calming breath. This had to be done now. For herself, for Mildred. For Rose.

    Sheeva waved her hand to catch his attention and held a finger to her lips to show he was to be quiet. They crouched behind the cover of bushes and trees towards the back of the fort, then around the high wall toward the front gate. It¡¯d been bashed in, one side hanging off the hinges and the other laying on the cobblestone floor. She held up her hand, signaling him to wait as she poked her head in and looked around. There was an unused stable to the left, a giant fire pit in the middle, and a makeshift smithing station on the right.

    She motioned for him to follow and inched closer to the door, using the stables for more cover. Sheeva grasped the handle, twisted, pulled the door open slowly, and hoped it wouldn¡¯t make any noise. As the rusty hinges creaked, she stopped to listen intently to the inside. Her heart was pounding in her chest so hard that she could almost hear it in her ears. When nothing happened, she checked how much room they had. There would be enough.

    She peered through the opening and waved for Tazaro to move in first, then slipped in behind him. Carefully, she slowly shut the door to prevent it from flying open or closed at a sudden gust of wind and drawing attention. They waited while their eyes adjusted to the darkness, then moved slowly forward.

    The foyer they were in led to a long hallway with rooms on either side. After checking them all only to find them empty or ransacked, they continued to the end of the stretch. Peering around the corner, Sheeva saw a large room with a long table and a cooking spit in the corner. She guessed it¡¯d been a mess hall at one time. Old, moldy, tattered banners hung from the ceiling, and rusty dishes were strewn on the table, remnants of bone on some of them.

    Another door to their left sat propped open. Firelight glimmered in the room, so Sheeva dismissed her ball of light and unsheathed Abraxas carefully so that it didn¡¯t zing at them. They neared the entrance to the room, and she stopped him just outside the door, peering through the crack between the door and its doorframe. Llyud and the other man were in the room, and she saw Mildred, bound and gagged on the floor next to them. Sheeva turned to Tazaro and leaned her mouth to whisper in his ear.

    ¡°Wait here. Your mom¡¯s too close to them for me to¨C

    She sucked in a frightened gasp as someone in the room began to speak, and they both jerked their heads to look at the doorframe.

    ¨CWe know you¡¯re there, Sheeva Jules. No use hiding, is there?¡± A voice she didn¡¯t recognize called out to her. It must have been the other man.

    She let out the tense breath she had and squeezed her eyes shut in frustration as she swore beneath her breath. They¡¯d been so careful, and she¡¯d even checked for alarms or wards before setting out. Aside from the scout she¡¯d lost, she told herself they couldn¡¯t have known her presence otherwise, trying to keep a shred of belief in her skill.

    ¡°Vilg.¡± She swore, stood, and stepped into the room. Tazaro stayed where he was; perhaps no one knew he was with her.

    Sheeva''s eyes narrowed and her skin flared in seething animosity as she saw her target, but when she spotted Mildred in the corner of the room, a part of her brain reigned in her fury. She took a clearing breath and reminded herself that she needed to be careful, as there was more to care about than just her revenge.

    She stared both men down, giving a fierce scowl. Llyud sat in a chair, one leg draped over the arm and his head resting on his palm. The other man leaned against a support beam on Llyud¡¯s left, arms crossed. Mildred seemed conspicuously placed in the corner of the room to Llyud¡¯s right. There was too much distance for her to reach Mildred in time if need be.

    ¡°Only way you could have survived is if you killed the poor bastard. I must say that¡¯s more than I¡¯d hoped for.¡± Llyud taunted. Sheeva kept her face stern; Llyud apparently did not know Tazaro was still alive. It was an edge she¡¯d possibly have, and she hardened her glare.

    "I consider his blood on your hands, Llyud." Sheeva bluffed.

    The other man laughed, and she fearfully wondered if maybe he knew the truth, sending him a scowl to mask the widening of her eyes that would give her away. He wore black robes and a masked cowl so she couldn¡¯t see his face, only his eyes, red, like hers. What little skin the opening did show was riddled with a scar of some kind. When he didn¡¯t say anything, Sheeva turned her attention back to Llyud.

    ¡°I am not about to die. Not before I have killed you. And I will be damned if I let anyone get in my way. Even a man possessed by a ta¡¯hal.¡± She announced as she took a couple of steps forward. Wanting to close the distance between herself and Mildred, she thought of something to engage both Llyud and the other man in conversation. Struggling to keep a level head for Mildred''s safety, Sheeva couldn¡¯t think of anything to say.

    ¡°What, the man you supposedly killed? Don¡¯t lie, Sheeva. He¡¯s standing right outside. Come in, Tazaro!¡± The other man announced, giving a taunting laugh.

    As her eyes widened, she felt her face heat with shame¨Ceven her attempt to bluff had gone wrong. Sheeva wondered how the man knew Tazaro''s name, too, and her head dropped. She glanced behind as she heard Tazaro¡¯s footsteps, then turned to face Llyud and the other man. She needed to regain her edge.

    Since Sheeva''s attempt to bluff had been flubbed, perhaps she could command Llyud¡¯s attention with jabs at possible insecurities. He¡¯d certainly enjoyed jabbing at hers in their short-lived encounters over the years.

    ¡°I did not expect you to accept help from others, Llyud¨Cyou always prefer to use them, instead. It takes away from your idea of fun. Or, are you perhaps afraid of me?¡± She pointed out, hoping he would answer her question. Llyud¡¯s face contorted into an indignant scowl.

    ¡°Like I¡¯m afraid of a runt like you!¡± Llyud hissed.

    ¡°Seems to me you are to partner up with someone. Suppose I should give you less credit than I used to.¡± Sheeva paused as she watched him grab the handle of his sword. It somewhat relieved her; her plan to engage one of them was working.

    ¡°Did you need to partner up with someone stronger than you, Llyud?¡± She continued, managing a couple more steps. ¡°You must be losing your touch, old man!¡± She laughed, fueled by a fire in her gut.

    ¡°Old man?¡± He lifted his head off his propped elbow, an irate furrow of his brow and curl of his lips at the wound to his ego.

    She rested her hand on the handle of Abraxas, thumbing the pommel-stone with her next thought. Bold as it was, it might not have the intended effect.

    ¡°I don''t need him! I¡¯m stronger than he is by¨C

    ¨CYou are nothing but a coward, Llyud! You harm innocent people! Children, older men and women, and, even more cowardly: that blind woman who cannot see your face? Would you hide in this man¡¯s shadow, coward? Would you have him kill me, instead, as you have had others try to?¡± She challenged, the words flowing easily as her fury hit a peak and made the hairs on her arm stick up straight.

    His yellow eyes narrowed and burned with rage as he uncrossed his leg and sat forward, the tip of his tail twitching. A surge of confidence flew through Sheeva as she felt she succeeded in commanding all of Llyud¡¯s attention. Mildred and the other man seemed forgotten about as he followed her taunting, side-to-side pace at the steps to the throne.

    Sheeva broke eye contact to gauge the other man¡¯s stance, noting the glint of glee as his eyes curled in amusement. She didn¡¯t dare look at Mildred in case it reminded the two men she was still there.

    ¡°You always threaten my life, Llyud. You say you¡¯ll kill me¨Cbut in the end, he might be the one to kill me." Full of stark hubris, she barked out a jeering laugh.

    "I mean, come on! How messed up would that be?¡± She goaded, forcing a deep breath. Resolve replenished, she ceased fidgeting with the pommel-stone and fixed her hold on the handle. ¡°Playing this cat-and-mouse game and torturing me for years, only for someone else to kill me!¡± She continued, flashing him a daring sneer. ¡°You fucking coward!¡±

    ¡°Like hell I''ll let someone else have that pleasure!¡± Llyud barked, rushing for her as he went to slash down at her head. She blocked the attack, threw him aside, and sliced at his torso. He stopped the slice, the force pushing him around. He jumped backward as Sheeva tried to stab him.

    Sheeva managed to trip him, and he fell on his backside. She kicked his sword away and straddled him, pinning his arms beneath her legs. She went to stab him again, missing as he tried to buck her off of him. Abraxas sunk into the floor near his shoulder. He used the proximity to punch her cheek. When she staggered to the side, he ripped the sword out from the floor. She knocked it out of his hand. It clattered to the side, out of reach.

    He whipped his tail and looped it around her neck to choke her. She reached into her boot, grabbed her slim knife, and used it to slice and cut away at his tail. He screamed and dug a claw into her side, and she cried out in pain and swung again. Llyud¡¯s tail loosened from around her neck as she successfully severed it from his body.

    Llyud howled and managed to throw her off of him, getting to his feet. She got to hers too, knife in hand, and pressed her palm to her side to heal her wound. While forming her fire sigil, she took a deep breath and blew fire at him, hoping to catch him off guard to pin him down again to finish him off. He covered his face with his arms to push through, drove his palm into her stomach, and knocked her down.

    He held her shoulder down as he yanked the knife out of her hand and raised it above his head, taking a moment to watch the terror in her eyes as they followed it. She used the moment to hit his locked elbow with such force, the limb bent unnaturally at the joint and caused him to buckle to the ground. As she managed to roll the both of them over, Sheeva snatched up the weapon and with a feral, triumphant scream, raised it above her head.

    After all the times she had willed herself not to, she found a strong desire to witness the light die from his eyes in the same manner as she had witnessed Rose''s.

    Seeking revenge won¡¯t bring anyone who¡¯s died back. If yeh stop to think about it, the ones yeh fight so strongly for might be disappointed in how yeh¡¯ve chosen to live yer life. There¡¯s always a choice, Sheeva.

    She flinched and hesitated, and apparently, her stillness was as much a shock to Llyud as it was to her as his frightened eyes fixed on the knife in her hand. The pleading, frightened look on his face no longer struck the well of satisfaction and vindictiveness, and, sickened with herself, Sheeva hardened her fierce scowl, trying to call upon the well of determination she¡¯d spent years fostering.

    The same well that she¡¯d drawn upon to get herself through the daily, dawn-to-dusk training regimen or push onward after every failed catch was no longer tasteful, and had somehow dried up.

    Perhaps, in ending Llyud¡¯s life, Sheeva really would have nothing left to live for.

    In her moment of distraction, she didn¡¯t notice the other man in the room wave his hand with the cast of a spell until the knife shot out of her hand and stuck into the wood of a nearby crate.

    Sheeva and Llyud both turned their heads to look at the man who''d interfered.

    ¡°Come on, now, stabbing him to death would be too forgiving¨Ccertainly, he deserves so much more! Or, are you doubtful?¡± The man asked. He barked out a laugh as Sheeva¡¯s embarrassed expression betrayed her.

    ¡°Hah! Are you really going to second-guess yourself, Sheeva? You¡¯ve worked so hard for this moment; you¡¯ve survived so much!¡± He taunted, turning his attention on Llyud. ¡°And you, Llyud, are you just going to lie there and die? Or shall I have to kill them for you?¡± He snickered.

    Tazaro sucked in a breath, worried at the man¡¯s words, but found himself unable to move.

    "Don''t meddle in my affairs, you bastard!" Llyud ordered. ¡°I don¡¯t need you to do shit!¡±

    The masked man, seeming impressed into silence, arched his eyebrows and stroked his chin in mock thought. He watched them throw each other about, both reduced to a slew of swearing and dirty tricks: bitten limbs, the smash of a crate on one''s back, cheap shots to the groin¨Ceven a handful of ash thrown in Llyud¡¯s face that caked it grey when Sheeva used the stone brazier next to the wall to stand from a tumble to the ground after an over-the-shoulder throw.

    They continued their struggle, and as Sheeva managed to gain the upper hand, she began to punch him with her armor-laced gloves, not registering the blood that splattered on her face. She reared her fist back for another punch to his long, multiply-fractured nose when a force slowed her assault, then threw her back across the room. She tumbled over along the floor as she rolled to a stop. She pushed herself up with her arms, exhausted and panting, and shoved Tazaro away as he tried to help her to her feet, waving him toward his mother.

    Seeming to ignore the others in the room, the other man stepped forward. He hovered his hand over Llyud¡¯s body and pulled him up onto his knees with a flick of his wrist as though Llyud were a simple, wooden puppet on strings.

    "I tire of your woefulness¨Cof your¡­presumptuous attitude, Llyud. You say you don¡¯t need me? You try to set yourself above me? Compare yourself to me? Say you¡¯re better than me?¡± He asked, sickeningly sweet and with a crazed glint in his dangerous red eyes.

    ¡°And, all that, after all that I have done for you?" The man whispered, then tsked. "You disappoint me for the last time, Llyud Halma.¡± The masked man¡¯s voice was soft but carried an icy threat that chilled Tazaro to the bone. It reminded him of a respected, organized-crime leader.

    ¡°You. Disrespectful. Lout!" The man commented, twisting his hand in a way that equally twisted Llyud''s arm and made Llyud hiss in pain. "I gave you freedom. I gave you my power.¡± The man ran a gloved hand through Llyud¡¯s shaggy hair, and Llyud¡¯s eyes widened with fear. He straightened the hair, parting it, tenderly combing through it with long, slender fingers.

    ¡°All I asked was your loyalty. Your freedom. Your indentured servitude.¡± He continued, hooking fingers beneath Llyud''s chin to raise the man''s eyes to meet his own. ¡°I even let you live.¡±

    ¡°But I have been¨C

    ¨CHAVE YOU?¡± The man bellowed with a voice that echoed through the void of Sheeva¡¯s stagnant lungs, causing the instinctive alarm of danger! to screech in her brain and buzz on her skin. She struggled to get to her feet but stopped as the man made a sharp movement in the corner of her eye, and flinched as his hand raised above his head. It was a reaction she had not had since her suffrage under the ¡°woman that birthed her,¡± and it sent her reeling, fighting to overcome the desire to shirk back into a corner and curl into a ball.

    Llyud stopped mid-sentence and hissed as the man grabbed a tuft of hair and angled his head back, baring Llyud''s angled neck, pronounced by the Adam''s apple that bobbed with a nervous gulp.

    "WHO ARE YOU TO QUESTION ME?"

    The whimpering man cowered down as well as he could, considering the awkward way he was being restrained.

    ¡°Zakaraia, please, I¨Cgive me another chance, I can¨C

    ¨COh?" Zakaria interrupted with an airy, mocking cackle. "You would grovel at my feet for pardon? I thought you said you were stronger than me¨Cthat you were better than me!¡±

    Llyud let out a whimper of terror as Zakaraia raised his hand and visibly flinched when the other gloved hand touched his jaw, caressing it almost gently. It was unnerving to watch, and Tazaro¡¯s gut twisted as he wondered what the man would possibly do.

    ¡°You truly are a coward. Suppose I shall remind you who¡¯s the better man, here...coward.¡± He stated. Tazaro could see the shape of a ghastly grin beneath the form-fitting cowl that shrouded the man¡¯s face.

    Llyud screamed out with pain as Zakaraia simply twisted his hand to snap the man¡¯s jaw. The crunch made Tazaro cry out in shock, then shudder as the grind of broken bone ground in his ears. Llyud''s cries of pain followed through, and Tazaro could only stare at the slack-jawed state of Sheeva''s foe. A pain in Tazaro¡¯s back made him briefly aware of how much he was shirking back, but, too terrified to move, he could only stare.

    Zakaraia released his hold on the man¡¯s hair and caught him by the collar, lifting him just enough that the fabric began to choke him.

    ¡°As for you!¡± He began, turning his attention to Sheeva with a taunting gaze and pointed finger. She froze, only able to get to her knees.

    ¡°Since you obviously can¡¯t kill this waste of life, I¡¯ll just do it for you.¡± He announced. Llyud tried to look at him in his shock at Zakaraia¡¯s betrayal, but the attempt was futile since he couldn¡¯t turn his head. The skin of his face and lips were turning purple, and he coughed, a rivulet of drool spilling from the corner of his mouth. He attempted to grab Zakaraia¡¯s arm to pull himself up, but Zakaraia shook his arms free.

    Llyud¡¯s arms dropped, their final efforts wasted, and his eyes drooped closed, the whites turning a shade of dire pink.

    ¡°No. No! Don¡¯t you dare!¡± Sheeva bellowed, managing to get to her feet. She stumbled on them as she stepped forward and caught herself on the support post, only to be pushed back by an unseen force as Zakaraia waved his hand at her. Tazaro rushed forth to catch her, easing her fall back down onto her knees.

    Zakaraia brought his gloved hand to Llyud¡¯s greasy head of hair to run through it, and Llyud¡¯s eyes widened. He managed a short-lived scream before Zakaraia closed his hand into a fist. Llyud¡¯s head exploded, splaying bits of brain and blood in every direction. He dropped Llyud¡¯s body to the floor, and it fell to the side, a puddle of blood oozing out from the open neck. As he snapped his fingers, the body burst into flame.

    After the mixed sound of terror and disgust erupted from his throat, Tazaro crumbled down against the wall, mortified at the sight of a man''s head exploding like a cantaloupe being mauled by a sledgehammer. He turned his head and retched. Sheeva gawked at Llyud''s burning corpse, barely registering her tremble of rage and horror.

    ¡°Oh, Sheeva, how disappointing.¡± He sighed with mock pity. ¡°After all that, you¡¯re still just a frightened child, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    Zakaraia found her sword and pushed it toward her with a booted foot. It slid across the floor to a stop in front of her, and Sheeva stared at the still-clean Marlboros vine etched in the blade as light reflected off of it. No crimson blood stained it to threaten rust. No bone had nicked or dented the carefully honed edge. Not even a hair on his head had met the sharp steel.

    ¡°You said you would not let anyone get in your way of Llyud. Apparently, you didn¡¯t really mean that, did you?¡± He taunted. ¡°Such a shame for you to have let Rose down so! I would think a mother¡¯s death would mean more to you¨C

    He stopped, caught off-guard as Sheeva grabbed Abraxas and sprinted to him as she swung her sword with reckless abandon and a feral scream. He backed off, dodging the blindsided attack with a narrow miss as the sword sliced a hole in his black garb. Soon as he recouped, he avoided each attack with ease, laughing at her violent outburst.

    Retrieving a baselard from the confines of his robes, he used it to block her attack as she swung to the side and stepped forward to get in her face. She could see the joy in his red eyes.

    ¡°You hate me, don¡¯t you? You shouldn¡¯t, you know. You¡¯ve only yourself to blame. You failed, Sheeva. Keep trying, and you¡¯ll just continue to fail.¡± He rambled, laughing with glee.

    ¡°Vilg oui!¡± She hissed, pushing him away. He hit the wall, and before he could counter, she drove Abraxas through his chest and tore it out. Instead of gushing red blood, thick, black goo seeped from the wound.

    Surprised at the anomaly, Sheeva took a few steps back and looked around in caution. Perhaps it was a mannequin, except this one appeared incredibly life-like and had possibly been made from oil. Unnerved, it showed with the tremble of her arms and the well of uncertainty in her gut, but when his body lay still and did not crumble into whatever material was used like her mannequins would, she took Zakaraia for real and dead.

    She jerked her head back to Llyud¡¯s corpse and rushed towards it, panting and forced to stare at a now smoldering pile of chunks of bone and sizzling flesh. With a guttural yell of rage, she reared back her foot and kicked at the mound. A nasty squelch made Tazaro shudder again, and he could not tear his eyes away. Instead, they followed as he watched the smoldering bits glow bright orange as they rolled along the floor. Further raging, she gave another feral scream as she grabbed a nearby chair and smashed it on the floor, then broke the backside on a support beam. She chucked the remaining planks of wood in her hands across the way, and they clattered as they ricocheted off the wall and to the ground.

    Tazaro quickly covered his head and ducked, flinching at the splinters that bounced off his head. Not wanting to be on the receiving end of a bone-shattering kick, he raced across the room toward his mother. He struggled to untie the knot on the ropes that bound her hands and feet together. He gave up and used the knife Sheeva gave him to cut them free. When his mother couldn¡¯t stand, he stooped down to pick her up, rushing her and himself out of the room while Sheeva ranted and raved.

    His boots clicked hard on the stone floor as he hurried to the entrance door, welcoming the growing distance between them and the screeching temper tantrum being thrown in the farthest room.

    The night breeze was a godsend to his flushed face, and he was sure he was covered in nervous, terrified sweat that dampened his shirt. He set Mildred down and shuffled his feet as he led her to the middle of the cobblestone courtyard.

    ¡°Are you alright, Mom? Did they hurt you?¡± He asked, trying to see for any wounds in the darkness; the moons hadn¡¯t risen just yet, and likely wouldn''t for at least another hour.

    ¡°No, no. I¡¯m alright.¡± She answered, pulling him into a hug and patting his back. Tazaro let out a tense breath as he hugged her tighter.

    ¡°Thank the gods. I-I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do.¡±

    ¡°Thank Sheeva, too.¡± Mildred insisted. ¡°You got this far because of her.¡±

    Tazaro looked back towards the building and cringed as he heard the shattering of something else built from stone and another feral scream, this one weaker than the previous few. With the damage she had done to the pillar, he hoped the building wouldn¡¯t collapse with her inside of it.

    ¡°Later. When she-when Sheeva¡¯s calmed down.¡± He promised, fighting a nervous laugh.

    Tazaro shrugged off his now-tattered coat to help keep his mother warm, shivering as the piercing air finally hit him beyond the sheen of sweat. There were still a few logs in the pit, and as he looked for a stash of wood, he found some by the smithing station. He hurried to it, grabbed more logs and some bracken, carried the bundle back, and began to set up a fire.

    He hoped Sheeva had flint and tinder, and as he searched her bag, he found a small box full of what he needed. It took a few tries, as the wood previously in the pit was damp from the rain, but he eventually had a fire going.

    They sat in silence, Tazaro with his arm wrapped around Mildred''s shoulders. He listened again to Sheeva, now sobbing and laughing with hysterics. He pitied her but kept the thought to himself.

    ¡°She will be fine, I believe,¡± Mildred assured him, but Tazaro had a feeling she wasn¡¯t sure of it herself.

    ¡°I¡­hope so.¡± He muttered, going over the events of the last few days. It¡¯d been a whirlwind.

    ¡°You knew the child was dangerous, didn¡¯t you? I, I¡¯m sorry I left you with her. I didn¡¯t know.¡± He muttered, trying to ignore Sheeva. Mildred slowly nodded.

    ¡°She was...devoid of emotion. Devoid of a soul. It was so¡­¡± She shook her head, unable to describe it. ¡°No, I knew I had to get you out of there. I¡¯m glad I did.¡± She assured him, accidentally patting his bandaged hand. He winced and hissed, moving it out of her reach.

    ¡°You have hurt yourself?¡± She asked. Tazaro chuckled.

    ¡°Ah, Sheeva was teaching me how to punch correctly. I hit a tree a little too hard.¡±

    Mildred chuckled and shook his shoulder.

    ¡°She has been good for you. Your pain is healing. That makes me happy to see.¡± Mildred commented. Tazaro took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

    ¡°Yeah. I, uh...me too.¡±

    He looked up, thankful the area they were in had been cleared enough of overhanging trees to show the night sky. His hands no longer shook as he remembered how close he had been to the heavens. Recalling the assumption that he had wings, he opened his mouth to ask if she noticed any changes in him. Perhaps it was something she could already see and had chosen not to say anything for now.

    Tazaro jumped a little bit and jerked around to look when Sheeva spoke behind them.

    ¡°Mildred, are you hurt?¡± Sheeva asked, her voice cracked, nasally, and dry. Tazaro turned back to the fire, figuring she wouldn¡¯t appreciate anyone seeing her in her current state. Her hair was disheveled, and the whites of her eyes were red and puffy. No doubt, her cheeks stung from the tears of frustration she had shed.

    ¡°No. No, I¡¯m not, dearie.¡± Mildred answered. She stood, and Tazaro watched Mildred reach for Sheeva, attempting to pull her into a hug. When Sheeva accepted it with an astonished look, Tazaro wondered if maybe he had managed to break through her hardened defenses regarding primary physical affection.

    It further surprised him when Sheeva closed her eyes in relief and nodded, burying her face in Mildred¡¯s shoulder. He looked away and back toward the fire, wanting to spare her whatever humiliation she would feel if she caught him staring. He felt a tired smile on his face.

    ¡°I am-I am so sorry. Please, forgive me.¡± Sheeva pleaded, trembling as she gripped her arms around Mildred¡¯s shoulders. The faint scent of cedar and pine from Tazaro¡¯s jacket pacified her.

    She sunk into Mildred¡¯s hold, allowing herself the physical comfort, though Mildred¡¯s hands were not as firm as Tazaro''s. Instead, they were tender and gentle. Her breaths evened and slowed, and the ache and tire of her muscles hit hard. Her hands dropped, unwilling to use them.

    ¡°It is alright, Sheeva. Everything is alright.¡± Mildred said, patting the back of Sheeva¡¯s head. She felt a mixture of the desperate need for comfort, pain, and longing, likely for the arms of her mother. Mildred hugged her tighter to herself, swaying side-to-side. Sheeva sagged in Mildred¡¯s hold as she wept silently, tearlessly, against Mildred¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Here, sit. You are weary.¡±

    Sheeva almost collapsed onto the floor and sniffled, giving a slight ¡°ugh¡± of distaste from her clogged sinuses. Her eyes felt swollen, and she rubbed at them as she pulled away.

    ¡°You should drink some water.¡± Tazaro offered, holding her water pouch out to her. Unable to hide the embarrassment that barely showed on her face, she took it and sipped, then threw her head back as she began to guzzle, only stopping to gasp for air. Damn, she was thirsty. She winced as she wiped at her lip and brushed a sore spot on it, then cast a small healing spell on the wound.

    "Thank you," Sheeva sighed, tilting the water pouch for reference. Limping slightly, she carefully stepped closer to the fire, then less-than-gracefully took a knee before plopping onto the ground to sit.

    The kaleidoscope of embers and flame occupied her frazzled mind as the information sank in. They had succeeded in rescuing Mildred, and all that was left to do now was make haste back to the safety of Roussell. Mildred was unharmed, and while they might have to worry about finding a new home, Sheeva felt confident that the urn where she stashed spare change had survived the flames. She hoped it would be enough to provide in the meantime.

    She wondered how long she might have to recuperate before Bartholomew swooped in and demanded she begin her repayment of her debt. A long sigh flowed through her chest, reluctant to oblige what would surely be a swift request; she would have liked to stay around for a few weeks to see things through.

    Perhaps, even¨Cas she glanced at Tazaro across the way¨Cget to show him the beginnings of flight in the fields beyond Roussell as she''d pondered earlier that day.

    It was a shame since she also wondered if it would kindle another curious flame for affectionate touch.

    She harshly cleared her sore throat to hide the scoff at her desire.

    "When I have returned you both to Roussel, I am going to leave." She announced after another moment of silence, preparing herself to disappoint. Tazaro scowled, upset that Sheeva had gone back on her word.

    "Wha¨CHold on, what about the agreement we had?" He asked.

    "You must remember, I, too, made a deal. I do not think I would be able to keep it and stay in Roussel." She took another long drink of water and popped two cubes and a pain pill in her mouth, and swallowed them down.

    "At least, not for long without drawing attention, considering the¡­nature of my repayment."

    Tazaro stammered for protest, then sighed. Sheeva was likely right, considering Bartholomew wanted her to act as some type of bounty hunter. He¡¯d probably have her going to all corners of Sferra to hunt and kill. Perhaps even beyond the dense fog that surrounded their islands. He envied her freedom to explore.

    "Were you really cursed by a Ta''hal, Tazaro? I see shadows surrounding you. Similar to Sheeva¡¯s." Mildred asked. Sheeva crossed her arms and scowled, thankful that Mildred couldn¡¯t see her body language.

    "To ensure your son''s safety, I cut a deal with the ta''hal that was possessing him," Sheeva admitted. Mildred nodded and reached out her hand for Sheeva to take. She wanted to get a better read. Guilt, followed by disappointment, hit her, and she was glad that she was already sitting. The intensity would have brought her to her knees.

    "And what deal did you make with my son?" She asked, focusing on the shift of Sheeva''s state. Her aura shifted to uncertainty, worry, followed by an extreme, desperate defense.

    "The ta''hal imparted him with¡­special abilities. I had agreed to teach him how to use them. I...am sorry that I cannot uphold my end of the agreement.¡±

    Now that was a genuine apology.

    "Abilities like yours, dearie?"

    "I presume so. I am not sure what Bartholomew did."

    Mildred gave a soft sigh and patted Sheeva¡¯s hand. Relief swelled, then faded into a sense of calm before Sheeva pulled her hand away. Mildred closed her eyes for a moment, thinking.

    "Tazaro, go with her. I will be fine. I have Tyler." Mildred decided. Tazaro looked at his mom for a moment.

    "Are you-are you sure?" He asked.

    "Of course. Go. Explore the world. You can tell us about all the things you learn." She insisted, though her heart felt heavy.

    "Sheeva? Take good care of my son. And, continue to take care of yourself, too."

    Sheeva looked at Mildred, then back at Tazaro.

    "Yes, ma''am." She agreed, relenting to the woman''s wishes.

    The sound of the crackling fire was the only thing between them for a while, each gathering their thoughts.

    Sheeva¡¯s eyes drooped, threatening to close into the sweet embrace of sleep. She shuffled onto her side and pulled her bag underneath her cheek. She muttered for them to wake her if need be and quickly dozed off.

    ¡°How did you two find me so quickly?¡± Mildred asked.

    Tazaro glanced at Sheeva across the way, hoping she was truly asleep. As light snores and a twitch of her foot shook her leg, he realized she was out. A smile cracked on his face, relieved for her to be able to get some good rest.

    ¡°We flew part of the way here. It was chaotic at first, but when we finally got out of range of...¡± He stopped himself from mentioning the arrows being shot at them in the sky, not wanting to alarm her. ¡°Uh, the rest of the town, it was...unbelievable. I-I want to make something that can soar the skies.¡±

    ¡°Despite your fear of heights?¡± Mildred pointed out. Tazaro blanched.

    ¡°Uh, well, maybe.¡± He paled even more as he imagined taking flight, something going wrong, then hurtling towards the ground to imminent death. ¡°Maybe not. Probably not.¡± He shook his head.

    ¡°Definitely not.¡± He decided, his inspired state crumbling.

    ¡°So, she really can fly?¡± Mildred asked, chuckling. ¡°I feel bad now. I made a joke about her having wings and horns. Does she have horns?¡±

    Tazaro snorted.

    ¡°Uh, no. Well, not-not that I know of.¡±

    Tazaro looked back over at Sheeva, and Mildred tilted her head as Sheeva muttered something indiscernible in her sleep, followed by a frightened whimper of some sort. Mildred reached in the direction, found Sheeva¡¯s foot, and rested her hand on it. The twitch stopped but reappeared in the thigh of her leg, almost jerking her foot out of Mildred¡¯s hold.

    Mildred shrugged Tazaro¡¯s jacket off of her shoulders and clicked her tongue at its tattered, dirty state as she felt holes and crusted dirt, then draped the coat over Sheeva¡¯s frame, returning her hand to Sheeva¡¯s ankle.

    ¡°She has become more trusting of you. More trusting of...physical comfort, it seems? She¡¯s much less...defensive than she was a few weeks ago. At any rate, it¡¯s a good thing.¡± Mildred stated bluntly as she read the sleeping woman. The drastic quell of her raging emotions filled Mildred with relief.

    ¡°Fear makes enemies of those who would become friends¡­or perhaps, in your case, lovers. You should ask her on a date. If it were anyone else, T, I would disapprove,¡± Mildred stated, keen to the embarrassed chuckle of her son.

    Tazaro lay on his back, pillowing his arms beneath his head.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to try to sleep, too. We¡¯ll probably wake up at the crack of dawn and head out. I don¡¯t think she could carry both of us while flying.¡± He gave a cheeky grin and rolled over so that his back was to the fire.

 Chapter 11: Itâ€™s a Long Way Down When Your Head is in the Clouds

    He managed what felt like a few hours before he woke, dazed and confused when he wasn¡¯t in his bed or his living room. Tazaro sat up, groaning as his body ached from lying on the unforgiving stone, and dread settled in as he remembered the events that placed the three of them here. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked over to where his mother and Sheeva had been. Mildred now lay where Sheeva had fallen asleep, her bag propped beneath her head and Tazaro¡¯s jacket draped over herself.

    Sheeva had moved to the left side of the firepit, knees tucked into her chest, arms wrapped around them, appearing to be deep in thought.

    ¡°Hey. I, uh, thought you¡¯d be out for a lot longer.¡± He greeted, getting to his feet and stretching out the soreness of his bottom and back. Sheeva broke out of her thoughts and looked at him briefly.

    ¡°In all honesty, so did I,¡± She answered. She tipped her head at Mildred¡¯s sleeping frame.

    ¡°Your mother said you covered me with your jacket. I...I thank you.¡± She said with a meek smile. Tazaro dropped his arms and felt the wry, nervous smile across his face, and his eyebrows raised into his forehead.

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t m¨C¡± He stopped himself, realizing his mother¡¯s wingman attempt. ¡°Um, sure. No problem. Not a big deal.¡±

    ¡°For as thin as it is, it is quite warm. I am surprised.¡±

    ¡°It held out for a long time. I¡¯ll have to retire it when I get home. Bummer, it was a favorite, too.¡± He mumbled sadly, crossing his arms to deflect the loss of his favored overcoat. As the reality of what he¡¯d said hit, and he realized it sounded like he may have been blaming her somehow, his eyes shot wide, and he raised his arms in surrender. ¡°But-but that¡¯s ok! Like I said, it¡¯s old. Had to be retired eventually. I¡¯d been procrastinating for sentimental reasons.¡±

    Sheeva huffed, feeling a light smile on her face at his unnecessarily flustered state.

    ¡°Still, you will need a jacket. I don¡¯t know how long it will take to repay my debt. Bartholomew never gave a quantity of...souls. I pray he does not make me kill innocent people or children.¡± Her face fell, and her mouth dropped to a frown. A piercing wind blew across the courtyard, and Tazaro shivered slightly at the creepy fog beginning to roll in, coupled with the unnerving idea of her being forced to murder people. Sheeva noticed and looked up at him from her curled-up state.

    ¡°Are you cold?¡±

    ¡°No, just¡­¡± He paused when she hesitantly lifted the wool blanket she¡¯d grabbed from her bag to cover herself with. ¡°Mm. Maybe a little.¡± He lied, fighting the flirtatious curl of his lips. As he felt it in his cheeks, he knew he¡¯d failed.

    He stepped over to her and sat down, crossing his legs and shuffling the blanket around his shoulders. The fabric carried her body heat around his back. He took the water pouch she handed him and drank, wiping the droplets from his lips with the back of his hand.

    He glanced at her when she sighed so heavily that her whole body was pulled into the motion, feeling the sink and slouch of her torso. She winced at a spot of pain and slipped her hand beneath her arm to examine it. He watched her trail some sigils in the air and an ethereal green glow filtered into whatever wound she healed beneath her shirt.

    ¡°What was that? Another healing spell?¡± Tazaro asked. She cleared her throat, grabbed a cube, and slowly chewed on it, swallowing it down with gulps of water.

    ¡°Yes. I did not expect Llyud to have claws. Thankfully, the wound was not too deep. Still hurts, though it is not the worst.¡±

    A thought occurred to Tazaro, and it flew from his mouth before he could stop it.

    ¡°You said...active spells are draining, passives aren¡¯t? What¡¯s the difference? Do you really think I could do something like that, too?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s difficult to say; I don¡¯t understand it much, myself¨Cnot like there¡¯s a textbook on the subject.¡± She touched the bandage around her forearm gently, pressing it lightly to see if it still hurt. Her eyes flared in pain briefly, but she kept a straight face. Mostly.

    ¡°In your case, I don¡¯t know. You have a crystal that¡¯s apparently giving you your power. My power is innate. I suppose it will just have to be something we discover over time¨Cbut, I¡¯ll be starting you off with simple, boring things, like this,¡± She explained, waving her hand to summon her ball of light. ¡°If it¡¯s possible. I really don¡¯t know.¡±

    Tazaro drummed his fingers on his knee as he thought about what she¡¯d told him. He wondered how draining it would be to cast a spell and whether it would get easier over time or if it would stay just as tricky on day one thousand as day one.

    He tilted his head in her direction, keeping his eyes fixed on the flame.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I feel like I interrogate you sometimes.¡± He apologized sheepishly.

    Sheeva looked at him and chuckled softly.

    ¡°No, don¡¯t be. You¡¯re not interrogating me. You...have a curious mind.¡± Her voice was soft. Modest. It was cute, and his heart skipped a beat in his chest.

    ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯s weird?¡± He asked, turning to look at her for assurance, relieved when she shook her head.

    ¡°If anyone is weird, consider it myself. I am the anomaly of Sferran-kind.¡± She retorted, eyes downcast in shame. ¡°No.¡± She began adamantly. ¡°No, your curiosity is just...not something I am used to. Your curiosity should be something you see in a positive light, if anything.¡±

    Tazaro blinked, feeling the light grow in his eyes as her words sunk in. Adrenaline shot through him, and he swallowed past a dry throat. His eyes darted back and forth between eyes that glowed with serenity, then settled on her lips, slightly curled as she seemed pleased with herself for her advice. He dipped his head and smirked at his hands folded in his lap as the desire to kiss her embedded itself in his being.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± He responded. Her eyes lifted in an unguarded smile, still apparently impressed with herself. Tazaro lost himself in the purity and beauty of the rare expression.

    ¡°After everything you and your mother have done, encouraging your oddities is the least I can do.¡± She answered sheepishly.

    Oddities, huh? Tazaro thought, eyes narrowing slightly. He assured himself she did not mean it negatively, as the tone of her voice was light and carefree. Maybe, she was just stating the bluntly obvious.

    Her joy dissipated at the thought of something, and she slumped, resting her head on her hand as she mused on whatever it was. She chewed on her lip as her expression darkened.

    ¡°Sheeva?¡± He called to her, hoping to bring her out of whatever gloomy thought had taken hold.

    She sounded a distant ¡°hm?¡± through a frown, not breaking her stare-down with the warm, seductive flame of the fire.

    ¡°Uh, hey.¡±

    Tazaro bravely took her hand and tucked his finger under her chin to gently turn her face towards him. Her eyes widened and pierced, then narrowed in conditioned defense. She drew in a sharp breath, tensing and giving him a soul-shaking warning glare. He briefly told himself he¡¯d blown it, but when her glare softened and her shoulders relaxed, he muttered an apology.

    A wisp of a shyly uttered ¡°oh?¡± sounded as he reached up to cup her cheek. He felt it heat beneath his palm as he stroked it with his thumb. A tingle rippled through his calloused thumb as he enjoyed its smooth, supple give. When her eyes lifted in cheer and the corner of her lips curled in a bashful smile, Tazaro felt encouraged.

    A coy smile broke on his face, thrilled to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear and trace the slightly pointed shape of it with the tip of his finger. Her face showed a mix of surprise and almost scientific curiosity as she tilted her head to rest entirely on his palm. A suppressed chuckle vibrated her lips, and her face heated even more as he stroked her cheek with his thumb again.

    Sheeva¡¯s heart cried and screamed in want at Tazaro¡¯s sentimental touch, and in a final effort to overcome her despair, she leaned her head into his palm and placed a small kiss on it in gratitude for his touch. She let it soak in; the warmth cradled around her jaw as strong fingers reached not in harm but intended intimacy, the way his fingers stroked her hair aside not to grip it in torment, but simply so he could gaze upon her face¡­it was almost too much.

    Ecstatic that she seemed comfortable and receptive to his suggestive touch, the question flew from his mouth before he could stop it.

    ¡°Sheeva, can I kiss you?¡±

    He barely registered her nod of consent against his palm, all too suddenly aware of his own nerve-wracked tremble.

    Tazaro gathered himself, returning the squeeze of her hand as he leaned forward, beckoning her to do the same with a mild pull of his hand. He struggled to keep it slow, barely able to contain his excitement; he did not want to spook her and flub the moment. Their noses touched, and he felt the warm blush on her face and the rush of air as she drew in a timid breath. Their eyes closed, both elated and eager to¨C

    A piercing cold made him bark and snap himself away, as did Sheeva, whose fist tightened in his shirt as she let out a cry, fighting for a normal breath. Her back ached from the intense shiver, and her teeth clattered as her body fought to regain the heat that had been instantly sapped.

    ¡°What the hell was that?¡± Sheeva gasped, angered as she looked around, then gaped at the ta¡¯hal as he stood behind them, howling and doubling over with laughter. His wings stretched out and shook with his efforts, and the long tail that curled around his feet thrashed about wildly and flicked the ground.

    After Tazaro¡¯s breathing returned to normal and his heart resided back in his chest, he shook the rest of the icy chill out of his bones and shot the ta¡¯hal a nasty, spiteful glare with such severity his eyes ached. He wondered if the bastard could read thoughts and felt his forehead burn as he wished he could direct his thoughts. If only.

    ¡°You fuckin¡¯ asshole!¡± He hissed at Bartholomew, who¡¯d calmed down and begun wiping at his eyes with a claw in mockery.

    ¡°Seemed like things were getting a little hot over here! Figured you both could... ha! Use a cool-down!¡± Bartholomew snickered.

    ¡°Well, you can just fuck¨C

    Tazaro stopped as his mother spoke up.

    ¡°What is going on?¡±

    Sheeva moved away and hid her face, embarrassed, wondering if Mildred had seen anything, then scrunched her face in further embarrassment as she realized Mildred could not have seen anything.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Sheeva stressed, though with the high-pitched tone of her voice, Tazaro could tell she was just as fully embarrassed as he was. He scowled in even further disappointment, and Tazaro stood to get some distance between himself and Sheeva.

    He walked over to his mother, helped her to her feet.

    ¡°Tazaro, there¡¯s something here! What-what is that thing?¡± She asked, taking in Bartholomew¡¯s form. His stature was grand, towering above Tazaro¡¯s currently purple and yellow aura with the new, shadowy blurbs by at least fifteen feet.

    Four black-feathered wings stretched out from the being¡¯s back, and a row of teeth stretched across the being¡¯s chest. It had a massive eye in the middle of its head, and its hair was a bunch of long, thin arms with tiny little hands at the ends of them. A tail that split into three waved behind him, long, curved blades jutting from the tips of the tails.

    ¡°Bartholomew. The ta''hal that possessed your son.¡± Sheeva stated.

    Mildred Chorea. They appreciate you greatly. Bartholomew stated with a thunderous, booming voice that reverberated back to her in a bizarre fashion. She gawked, still stunned into silence as his voice bored into her brain.

    ¡°Do-do you see the wings? The head?¡± Mildred blabbered, trembling.

    ¡°Y-you can see that?¡± Tazaro blurted, amazed as he looked back and forth between his mother and the ta¡¯hal.

    ¡°Hard to miss!¡±

    ¡°Um...Yeah. The pair of wings was pretty unnerving to me, too. The tail is worse.¡± Tazaro answered, rubbing the spot on his chest that the thing had sent his blade through. He shivered again as the whole-body chill experience nagged at him. ¡°He¡¯s an asshole, too.¡±

    Bartholomew ignored their staring at him and stooped down next to the fire, reaching over it to see if it would still burn him. Nope. Nothing.

    Mildred watched the towering thing stoop to a level of about eight feet and reach out a long, muscular arm, complete with claws. It balanced itself on its three tails, curled to form a springy spiral, and its wings adjusted to tuck against its back. The stalky head on its shoulders jerked and twisted in an alien-like way as it continued to look around.

    ¡°Pair? I see two pairs. And, three tails.¡± Mildred admitted. Bartholomew looked up at her, surprised.

    Oh, so you see my proper form. Bartholomew said, his bulbous eye fixing on her as his head turned around on its stalk. She shivered in fear and averted her gaze.

    ¡°Proper form?¡± Sheeva asked, wanting clarification.

    Did you think ta¡¯hal are just clever, handsome things with devilishly good looks and wings, Sheeva? No, no, we come in many varieties. You could not begin to comprehend our stature. He purred, puffing his chest and stroking it with a clawed hand and a grin on his face. He pretended to inspect his nails in pompous mockery.

    ¡°Try me,¡± Sheeva growled, upset at the assumption. Bartholomew snorted and cackled.

    Maybe some other time. I notice you killed Llyud and rescued the damsel in distress. What a hero you are, Sheeva! He stated, not seeming to be earnest whatsoever.

    ¡°And where were you during all of that?¡± She snapped. Bartholomew snickered at her.

    Around. You¡¯re hilarious when you lose your shit, you know. Do you feel better after your little temper-tantrum, child?

    Sheeva sent Bartholomew a scowl.

    ¡°Vilg oui.¡±

    ¡°What happened to the other man? The other man called Zakaraia?¡± Mildred asked.

    She felt the mass condense, then expand, emanating pure fury. It made her tremble even more, and she clung to her son¡¯s arm with a death grip.

    Zakaraia, you say?

    ¡°Did you know him?¡± Sheeva asked. Bartholomew remained silent, thinking. His eye fixed on her again.

    Did you see his proper form, as well, Mildred?

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t,¡± Mildred answered.

    ¡°Sorry¨CI was asking Bartholomew.¡± Sheeva clarified.

    Mildred opened her mouth, then closed it. It seemed that Bartholomew had been able to direct his question to only her, somehow. Bartholomew turned his back on her, and Mildred saw rows and rows of thick, hard scales. A decorative shield made of stone rested between his shoulder blades, and the hilt of a sword jutted out over his right shoulder.

    And where is Zakaraia now? Bartholomew asked, taking a few steps away from the others and clasping his claws together behind his back.

    Despite his back to them, the head on its stalk still kept its gaze on the three of them, and Mildred closed her eyes, no longer willing to put up with the disturbing thing.

    ¡°Dead. I killed the man.¡±

    Bartholomew turned back to face Sheeva, eyes widened. His minty-blue eyes glimmered with impressed amazement, and a long eyebrow curled up into his forehead. He blinked away the look of surprise as quickly as it¡¯d shown itself, then crossed his arms and stood tall.

    Is that so? I did not know you were capable! That is quite a feat. Where did this happen?

    ¡°Are you blind? A body that oozes black blood is hard to miss.¡± Sheeva countered.

    Bartholomew began to cackle, tail swishing behind him and scales ruffling. His wings twitched and bobbed with the intensity of his laughter.

    How naive of you to assume he can be so easily killed! Aha, the bastard got you, too!

    ¡°What do you mean, he got me, t¨C¡± Sheeva¡¯s stomach dropped as she thought about it. The cackle was incredibly unnerving. She looked to the building, now doubting herself. She grabbed Abraxas and took off, running inside and to the room.

    She skidded to a halt at the entrance to the room where she¡¯d fought Llyud, then lurched forward as Tazaro barreled into her. She stumbled forward, shot him a look, and turned back to search the room. A scattered pile of ash lay where Llyud¡¯s burning remains had been, and as she turned to look towards the back of the room, she stared in terror.

    His body was not there. As Sheeva hurried to look for a blood trail, no drop of blood was found.

    Sheeva jerked her head as they heard a scream come from outside the compound.

    ¡°Shit!¡± Sheeva swore, grabbing Tazaro and running back outside to Mildred. Her fears were proven as she saw Zakaraia standing there, alive and well. His robes were dry, clean of any blood or caked dirt. He held Mildred up by her hair, a knife at her throat.

    ¡°Let her go!¡± Sheeva commanded. He shrugged his shoulders.

    Nah. I don''t have to. Sheeva watched as he shook Mildred¡¯s head threateningly, causing her to cry out in pain. Sheeva felt herself shake and took a deep breath, preparing herself for what she was about to say.

    ¡°Let Mildred go! Fight me instead!¡± Sheeva bartered. He laughed.

    Oh? You would sacrifice your life for this woman? He asked. Sheeva blinked, then replaced it with her most threatening glare. She was not about to lay down and die, but she owed it to them to at least distract Zakaraia while they got away. Hopefully.

    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    ¡°Sheeva, what? Are you really¨C

    ¨Cdon''t, Tazaro. I¡¯m¡­aware of what I¡¯m doing.¡± She cut him off, causing Tazaro to flinch. ¡°Let Mildred go, Zakaraia. They have nothing to do with this. You took my kill, and I demand to know why!¡± Sheeva insisted, despite the nerves wrangling her gut.

    Fine. This should be fun. Zakaraia said, dropping Mildred and stepping towards them.

    ¡°Tazaro, take your mother and run. Do not stop.¡± Sheeva ordered. Tazaro sprinted forward past the man, honestly surprised that he¡¯d let him. He picked up his mother and ran into the forest, hoping to put as much distance between them as possible.

    ¡°Answer me: Why interfere? Why take my kill? You had nothing to do with Llyud!¡± Sheeva spat, holding Abraxas at the ready.

    ¡°Nothing to do with Llyud? No, no, I had everything to do with Llyud. You saw the man. He was conceited, arrogant, and no longer useful.¡± He stated. It made Sheeva shudder.

    ¡°No longer useful? Explain yourself!¡± She commanded. He sneered and shook his head.

    ¡°To a skulka like you?¡±

    Sheeva took another deep breath. Since demanding answers didn¡¯t work, perhaps she could convince him to answer her.

    ¡°You¡¯re going to kill me, aren¡¯t you? You may as well tell me.¡± She bargained, trying to stop her trembling.

    ¡°Why? You¡¯re just a frightened little half-breed.¡±

    That truly shook her.

    ¡°Who are you? How do you know what I am?¡± She asked, racking her brain to remember if, somehow, they had crossed paths before.

    ¡°The name¡¯s Zakaraia, at your service, little half-breed.¡± He crowed with an elegant, mocking, theatrical bow.

    She felt herself lift her foot to take a step back but planted it and instead shifted into a fighting stance. Her wings slid out of her back, and she stretched them, plumage puffing with adrenaline. Maybe she could convince herself that she¡¯d be fine.

    ¡°Tee-hee! Build yourself all you want, little animal! You¡¯ll only fall harder.¡±

    Sheeva did not validate his taunt with a response, still waiting for an answer to her question.

    ¡°Fine, fine, all business; no play. Oh, Father, how predictably boring! Llyud owed me his life, so I used it as I saw fit. The fool never imagined I¡¯d be the one to kill him. He held the hopeless dream of dying of old age if it hadn¡¯t been you who¡¯d killed him. But I couldn¡¯t let you do that; that would be too generous of me!¡±

    She stared at him, dumbfounded. Llyud had simply been a pawn?

    "And, Cecilia? Were you behind that, too?"

    He snickered and pointed at the idea, brimming with glee.

    "Oh, no, that was all him! Foolish as he was, the bastard had some golden ideas! Tell me, how did it feel to have your feathers plucked? Never told Tazaro how you got out of the cage in that drug den, did you?" He jeered. "Newsflash for you, you scared little mutt. You may call it vengeance, but that''s just murder by another name. All those poor, innocent criminals!"

    Sheeva dropped her head and lowered Abraxas in shame, grimacing as the scent of blood mixed with the stuffy underground Iphsium den wafted to her nose. She tensed as the stone-on-stone noise of the giant mortar and pestle they used to powder her feathers grated her eardrums and shook her head at the screams that echoed throughout the compound. Regardless of who got in her way, she blindly slaughtered her captors.

    She snapped her head up at movement with a sharp gasp and watched Zakaraia tap his chest, reach almost elbow-deep into it, and pull out a sword. Just the sight of it unnerved her, and she felt herself shiver in fear. Black blood dripped onto the cobblestone as it trickled down the blade, and as he brandished it with a showy, dramatic flourish, the sword became clean and glowed with a shade of indigo. Sheeva saw the edge of Abraxas shake in her vision, trembling as she wondered what she had gotten herself into.

    ¡°Well? I let everyone go. Strike me down if you¡¯re so strong, Sheeva.¡± He goaded.

    She swallowed her fear and raised Abraxas, finding courage in her noble plight and the familiar design on the blade as she eyed it briefly before fixing her stare on her target. She took a deep breath and charged, thrusting the steel toward his masked face.

    She only managed to spear the air by his face as he blocked her strike, lifting the blade above his head. A zing rang out as he dragged his blade along the steel to catch her guard and twist the blade aside. When she stepped back, he pushed away at the last stretch to slice upward at her head. She let out a surprised yelp as she backed further away. The heat of the charged sword rushed across her nose and made her eyes sting.

    He stepped forward to slash, but she blocked that without much effort, trying not to acknowledge the blade so close to her head. She threw aside his strike and stepped forward, trying again to run him through with the opening she had made.

    With a thrilled sneer, he stepped aside and retrieved a knife from his cloak as she speared the air. Sheeva gasped as he slid the blade against her neck, controlled enough to rest the full of the blade on the nape of her neck. The cold of the steel behind her ear and the edge nestled in her hair sent a wave of fear down her back before he ripped it away, severing a chunk of hair from its bind and slicing her ear. Sheeva yelped, jumped back again, and blocked a downward slash of the knife.

    As Zakaraia cackled about something, Sheeva put up her guard again, though unnerved and panting from adrenaline. Abraxas shook even more in her hands.

    As she felt blood trickle down her neck and onto her shoulder, Sheeva shuddered, then reached up a trembling hand to heal her sliced earlobe. Calloused fingers warmed the cold spot the blade made on her skull, and the softness of freshly cut strands brushed the back of her hand.

    "Be grateful I didn''t cut off your entire ear, half-breed," He commented with a growl, wiping the blade off on his clothes before tucking it back into its concealed holster.

    She swallowed the unease in her throat, fearing how deadly experienced this man was with a blade.

    Her skin flared and her eyes widened as he rushed for her, bounding in only a few steps. She blocked a strike from above, bracing the steel of Abraxas with her palm and her stance in solid footing. She bucked the blade away and went to slice at his chest. He stepped aside and changed his hold on the sword to jab the pommel-stone into her stomach.

    Sheeva dropped Abraxas and doubled over, stumbling backward a few steps. Zakaraia grabbed her hair, jerked her off her feet, and threw her aside.

    She clambered to the ground, coughing as she struggled to catch her breath. As soon as she recovered, Sheeva snatched up Abraxas, hurried to her feet, and rushed him again to stab him.

    In the blink of an eye, he sidestepped, turned his blade, and thwacked her alongside the face with it. She cried out in pain, tripped over her feet, and fell to the ground again.

    ¡°You¡¯re so slow! It¡¯s disappointing.¡± He pouted darkly. She looked up at him, shaken at his speed and trembling with embarrassment. She didn¡¯t dare reach up to caress her throbbing nose and cheek.

    He cackled and drove his blade into the cobblestone deeply enough that it stuck when he let go, and Sheeva¡¯s face abandoned her in showing her wonder. Zakaraia stepped away from his weapon and circled around Sheeva¡¯s recuperating ball as he contemplated something with another show of mockery as a finger tapped his chin in casual thought. He stopped in front of her, then raised his arms and stood in a martial stance.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think I need a weapon. I¡¯ll beat you with my bare hands.¡± He puffed with a challenging glint in his eyes. ¡°Feel free to keep hiding behind that blade of yours, child.¡±

    Sheeva stood, trying to quell her frustration. She focused and felt the warmth of her passive shield crawl across her body. It tingled and gave her a slight boost of confidence.

    Holding Abraxas in her left hand to block with, she kept her right hand free to strike, regained her foundation, and charged again. Taking a page from his book, she shoved his punch out of her way with her forearm and attempted to return his breathtaking jab as she drove Abraxas''s handle towards his gut.

    He wheeled the punch she countered into her side. Thankfully, her shield held up, and she pushed through to drive the pommel-stone into his stomach.

    Zakaraia grunted from impact and slightly hunched over. Emboldened, Sheeva used the proximity and moment of stun to step to the side and slash at the back of his neck, determined to behead him. She missed, barely able to witness him drop to a knee and sweep her feet out from underneath her.

    Sheeva stumbled forward. Zakaraia launched her into the air as he kicked up, his boot scraping the bottom of her chin. The sickening, sweet taste of blood flooded her mouth, and a sharp pain gripped the inside of her cheek. When he caught her by the hair, she felt her shield fail as he pulled her to her knees and drove his knee into her face.

    She blinked sluggishly, overloaded with pain, unable to resist as he turned her head and looked at her bloodied face. A smack echoed in the courtyard as he slapped her and laughed with cheer. She cried out as he pressed his thumb on her broken nose and smeared the blood on her cheek. Her mouth soured, and her brain felt like lead in her skull as he pressed his palm against her forehead.

    ¡°Perhaps I shall go after that other friend of yours. That psychic. Cassandra is her name, right?¡± He taunted.

    As her mushed brain picked up on the threat, she glared at him as well as she could as hot tears of anger welled in her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. He stepped closer to her, tilted her head back, and dug his thigh against her throat.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare!¡± She grunted through a constricted throat and gritted teeth.

    ¡°Oo, so angry. Bet Hasch is the only one to make you that angry, isn¡¯t he?¡±

    Sheeva finished fishing out the small knife she kept hidden in her boot and drove it into the inside of the thigh he pressed against her throat, then twisted the blade as fast as she could to create a gushing wound. The ooze of warm blood spilled over her chilled, frozen hand.

    He barked out a scream and backed away, releasing his hold on her hair. Coughing, she fought to stand and rushed him while he was staggered. The knife she held slid into his side with no resistance, and she yanked it out and sunk it into his chest as he doubled over.

    She tore his cowl from his head to reveal his face, then stepped back and took a knee from exhaustion. She forced herself to watch, waiting, silently pleading for him to stop moving and die. He panted, on his hands and knees, covered in blood.

    His lips stretched into a thin, half-cocked pained grimace, a taunt in his red eyes. Short, black, matted hair stuck around his head and covered his ears. A scar from some type of beast diagonally spanned his face.

    His face was entirely new to her, shooting down her theory that they may have crossed paths at some point in time. Terror gripped her when he began to laugh again, and she watched in anguish as he healed his wounds and stood. She looked at the pale skin that showed through the holes in his robes, and her eyes widened. There were no signs of scarring or bruising, something she could not manage herself with such deep wounds. She doubted the doctor that resided at the temple could even attain such skill.

    Zakaraia snapped his fingers, and she cried out sharply as she felt her nose shift and fix itself. The knife clattered to the ground as she held her face in pain and swore.

    ¡°You got guts! Hah! I¡¯ll give you that, but you¡¯re gonna need a helluva lot more than that piddly knife to kill me!¡± He snickered.

    He found her sword, slid it across the way to her with his foot, located his own, and brandished it again. Sheeva fought to cast her passive shield once more; the effect now a stinging burn that pinched its way across her skin.

    Sheeva took to the sky, diving down and tucking her wings back, wanting to get speed on her side. He jumped back as she slashed downwards, and as she spread her wings to push herself forward, he leaped aside and blocked her strike, using the momentum to throw her into the wall. She barely caught herself on it, then took off again.

    She swerved up, dived down, and tried again, missing and teetering off track as he pushed her when she passed him. She landed on her feet and turned to face him, annoyed with herself. He laughed at her, waiting for her to strike again. With another jump and swoop, she hoped to land a hit, but as he blocked, he bucked her away and into the ground. She hit it hard and rolled to a stop, discouraged and ashamed with herself.

    ¡°Tee-hee! Fly and dive, fly and dive¨Cyou¡¯re so predictable!¡±

    Scrambling to her feet, she gave an irritated growl and cast a weak, almost ineffective healing spell on her wrist that she landed on awkwardly. It should not have twisted; her passive shield should have held up, but if she were honest, she was too riled up to think straight. Sheeva hid her embarrassed look. Indeed, she lacked experience fighting a foe while flying, only having mud-crafted puppets to work with, and those were only as good as she could manipulate them to be.

    ¡°You have wings and a sword, but you don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing, do you?¡± He taunted, laughing at her expression as she briefly considered that he was right. She could hold her own against the common man and even her long-time rival, but Zakaraia was on a completely different level.

    ¡°Hell, even your father put up a better fight!¡± He laughed.

    Stunned briefly, Sheeva blinked.

    ¡°You knew my father?¡± She asked.

    He flashed her another cocky smirk.

    ¡°That murderer?" He laughed. "His death was a good riddance to the world. It''s a shame he didn''t see you grow up, half-breed."

    Sheeva huffed, putting herself back into the fight. If her speed was ineffective, she would try brute power.

    She kept her feet on the ground and ran forward, hoping to slice up into his side and knock him into the air. If she destroyed his foundation, he could not defend himself well, and she might finally have the upper hand.

    He still blocked her attack, but as she desperately channeled her energy through Abraxas with a determined grunt, she broke through and flung him into the air. She leaped, driving her blade across his stomach as she passed him. She grabbed his arm and attempted to behead him again but missed, feeling the dense resistance of bone against the blade as she sliced between his shoulders. She flipped and kicked him back to the ground with a channeled heel drop. He lay there, sprawled, and she hovered for a moment, waiting...hoping he was done for.

    Horror took hold of her again as he coughed and stood, then turned to face her. He laughed as he pushed a pair of feathered, blood-stained wings out of his back and jerked his sword out of the ground.

    ¡°Shall I show you how it¡¯s really done?¡±

    Her stomach dropped at his threat. As she watched him flap his wings, she held Abraxas in front of her to block his intended strike, then jerked her face up, confused when he never struck.

    Slowly, she realized she lost him somehow. She looked left, then right, just in time for his boot to collide with her face and throw her to the side.

    Sheeva barely had time to react as he zipped in front of her and kicked her off course again. She cried out and watched her vision spin as she tumbled higher into the air. In the next second, he was in front of her again. He drove his knee into her stomach, and she coughed for air as the impact broke her passive shield. He grabbed her by the collar and held her in the air as she strained to take a breath.

    It seemed she had just barely caught her breath again before Zakaraia whipped her around, and grabbed her left wing in one hand and her right arm in the other. She screamed in pain as he violently twisted her limbs, sending blinding white pain behind her eyes. She felt the rush of wind and gravity¡¯s pull as he tossed her up, caught her by the ankle, and lobbed her, full force, toward the ground. She could have sworn she heard the grinding of bone in her head as the broken wing flailed in the fall.

    She crashed to the cobblestone and lay still, trying to push through the pain of taking a breath. He landed, watching as she struggled to push herself up with only one arm, sucking for air with pained cries.

    ¡°After I finish you, I¡¯ll go after Mildred and Tazaro. Their deaths will be on you, Sheeva. Just. Like. Rose''s.¡±

    The threat made Sheeva gasp in a short breath and freeze.

    Sheeva wrenched her eyes shut and tightened her fist. She would not have it--not like this. It would be over her dead body.

    In a brave, final effort, she got to her feet, blinking staggered as she fought to focus through her blurred, double-vision. Using her unbroken left arm, Sheeva gripped Abraxas as well as she could and rushed for him once again, trailing a messy sigil for her roots spell. If she could pin him down, she could risk a potential, up-close and lethal strike.

    He closed his eyes, focusing, and stating something in a foreign language, snapped his fingers. A dark bubble quickly expanded from his center, and as Sheeva crossed the barrier and stepped inside, his face became indistinguishable and split into shards. Sheeva¡¯s ears registered an increase in pressure as they ached and needed to pop, like a rapid ascent into the sky. She felt the intense, sluggish drag of her body as it fought the effects of the spell he cast, moving as though gravity¡¯s force had been doubled.

    In the unnatural, compressed moment, she cast her roots spell. They crept up his legs as slow as worms, but he made no attempt to move out of the way and rather, seemed to succumb to their restraint. As they wrapped around his thighs, she channeled a last-minute change, and as thorns burst from the vines, one helpfully embedded itself in his thigh, causing a gash.

    Directly in front of him as she pushed on, she thrust the blade forth, her hands a warbled, blurred mess of skin. It took her a muddled minute to realize Zakaraia had moved just enough to avoid her strike as it grazed across his chest, then another to comprehend that he struck her with something as she felt a widespread tingle, almost something pleasant. The tingle spread across her body from head to toe.

    The vines receded and he finally moved, unaffected by the weight of the spell. Her head lolled to look behind her, wondering if he was there. All she could discern was the red of his eyes, fuzzy and hazy.

    As the next second passed and the bubble burst, her body¡¯s movements caught up to her, and she barked out a startled cry as she fell and rolled across the cobblestone, brain overclocked as it tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. She felt something warm and wet, and as her vision crept back to her, she saw blood oozing from many cuts along her outstretched arm that lay along her wing, pinned beneath her shoulder, and craned out unnaturally. The trickle of blood from her chest alarmed her as the pool on the ground grew to cover her elbow.

    She stared at all of it in terror, and as she felt a warmth pool over her thigh, Sheeva¡¯s humiliation grew as she believed she¡¯d wet herself, and she struggled with the ache of a pain in her thigh. The stench of iron mixed with dust, rocks, and feathers hit her nose and pulled her beneath the ground.

    His laughter pierced her mess of a brain, and she pleaded with her body to look for him, to get up and move. Panic set in, and she urged herself to get up once more. She could not muster the will to move, and shamefully, she did not want to.

    ¡°Ah-hah! That move always gets me! The look on your pathetic little face was priceless! I¡¯ll remember that one for a zillion years!¡± Zakaraia crowed as he applauded himself with claps that echoed on the walls.

    Sheeva began to weep, riddled with dread and frustration. She was going to die, alone, with nothing but intense pain, blood-soaked warmth, urine-drenched pants, and a cold, hard, cobblestone floor to comfort her. A whimper of fear crawled from her throat as she heard the click of his boots while he approached her. Discouraged and in a moment of pure, self-preservation, she screamed at herself to get up and flee, but as her hand and foot merely twitched, she could only stare at the leather, studded, steel-toe-plated boots that stopped in front of her face.

    He kicked her shoulder and pushed her over with his foot. She sobbed again out of pain as the fractured wing twisted beneath her. He sneered and held out his palm, and as she felt her brain tickle, she figured he was fixing to make her head explode. As her head slowly cleared, Sheeva locked her eyes with his.

    "Leave them alone! Take me instead!" She cried.

    He seemed to soften, stooped down, and pawed at her frightened face, seeming to take his time as the pads of his fingers trailed along her skin and his thumb caressed her jawline. She ripped her face from his pawing fingers, but as he clasped his long hand around her throat and forced her to look at him, she froze. When he leaned his face close to hers and nuzzled a cold, sharp nose against hers, she wrenched her eyes shut and braced herself for the disgusting claim of a kiss. The kiss never came. Instead, his lips brushed against her cheek to rest against the shell of her ear, and she whimpered in revulsion at the slimy prod of his tongue.

    The breathy chuckle made her skin crawl and her stomach churn with nausea as it made her eardrums itch.

    ¡°Just kill me, you bastard.¡± She pleaded, turning her face away.

    ¡°No.¡± He denied. The long, bony fingers wrapped around her throat squeezed and pressed against it, driving primal fear as she wheezed. The sharp bite of his teeth on her earlobe made her sob, and she lost the precious breath she had sucked in. She choked and snapped her hand to pull weakly at his sleeve.

    ¡°You beg me to kill you, but I don¡¯t think you want to die.¡± He grunted and hissed as her nails dug into the back of his hand. ¡°All this fight for a blind, old bat and a fool?¡±

    Sheeva¡¯s brain latched onto the visage of Tazaro¡¯s face; the bright, cheerful, orange eyes, his broad, unabashed grins that accentuated his dimples, further framed by wavy, chestnut-colored locks, and the stark contrast of the roughness of his fingers as they stroked her cheek and the back of her hand. The intense shiver of her body as it fought subsided as she succumbed further to delusion. She grasped the wrist of Zakaraia¡¯s arm weakly as the hand tightened around her throat.

    ¡°Sleep, Sheeva.¡±

    She choked but slipped away even further as Tazaro¡¯s calm voice washed over her senses. A grateful sigh flowed from her lips as she felt the soft, heavy, soothing bearog-fur blanket she used in the workshop suppress and weigh down her body. Her hand dropped from its futile grasp, losing herself in the memory of cedar, pine, and sawdust. Her face heated in her last moment of embarrassment and modesty as she briefly imagined them sharing an embrace, as she had seen of other couples. Her heartbeat slowed as she entertained the idea.

    "Sleep," Tazaro''s voice repeated, and as Sheeva faintly registered the warmth of lips upon her cheek, her heart swelled in jubilation as her eyes slowly closed. The warm hand, calloused from holding the various woodworking tools, relaxed around her throat to caress her cheek, and her head fell to the side as she attempted to maintain contact with the comforting thing.

    Sleep. Yes, She thought. Perhaps, she would not sleep but rather die in her sleep, and if such a place as Fidelia''s Beach existed as Mildred believed, maybe, she might be able to be reunited with Rose.

    Delighted and succumbing to the belief, her body began to float into an eerie sense of peace as a wave of invigorating warmth covered her from head to toe. Pacified by soft sands, Sheeva briefly registered Rose helping to adjust her heavy limbs, arms crossed over her chest before resigning to the pull of darkness.

 Chapter 12: Mildred

    Tazaro staggered and stopped to lean against a tree as he caught his breath. He looked over his shoulder, wondering how much distance they had gone. He prayed it was enough since he could not see the top of the watchtower from their position, but it might have only been due to the canopy formed by overgrown tree branches.

    He hoped Sheeva had succeeded in killing the man and was searching for them. In case she had not, he told himself he needed to keep going.

    He pushed himself off of the tree and pressed onward, legs shaking and muscles twitching. He could only manage to walk at this point, and as Mildred asked to be let down, Tazaro almost collapsed as he bent down to release her.

    She let him lean against him as she walked, listening to him as he guided her over tree roots and around rocks. Tazaro looked up to the sky as he heard the sound of flapping wings and felt relieved, thinking that Sheeva prevailed and was tracking them down.

    However, when he saw a much bigger, cloaked silhouette in the air, his gut dropped in nerves. Immediately, he ducked down beneath the cover of the trees, hoping that neither of them were seen.

    "Mom, be quiet. That guy¨CI think he''s looking for us," Tazaro whispered, trying to peer beyond the canopy at their hunter. A chill raced through his veins when he couldn''t see the man, and he looked behind as he heard footsteps just behind. The skin on his neck seemed to crawl when there was no one lurking there, and a stagnant, petrified breath caught in his chest.

    Daring to move away from the clearing they were in, Tazaro urged them further into the thicket. As soon as they slipped into the dense cover, Tazaro felt hands grab them in the darkness and roughly jerk them apart. Tazaro landed somewhere nearby, narrowly missing a thick stump with his head.

    As Mildred sat up, she felt Zakaraia¡¯s hands grab her throat. She gaped in terror at the creature as it came into view. With a likeness similar to Bartholomew¡¯s but more grotesque and gigantic, Zakaraia had seven wings compared to Bartholomew¡¯s four and the hilt of a blade resting in the middle of his chest. A majestic crown of stone encompassed his head of arms. Unlike Bartholomew''s three tails, there was only one tail, much like a scorpion¡¯s with a sharp, menacing barb and poison sac connected to it.

    ¡°Where is Sheeva? What did you do to her?¡± She asked.

    Dead. I killed Sheeva with my bare hands. Watched the life die from her eyes. For as much of a fight she put up, she was still so...weak. He answered, a sneer on his face. Mildred gave out a sob.

    ¡°No! I-I made a deal! You said you¡¯d spare them!¡± She argued. He tightened his grip on her throat, and Mildred choked.

    You were a fool to think I¡¯d keep such a desperate bargain.

    She heard a howl and felt herself be dropped, the aberrant creature''s appearance disappearing suddenly as their physical contact stopped.

    Tazaro had taken the knife Sheeva had given him and driven it into the man¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Run, Mom!¡± Tazaro cried, putting himself between Zakaraia and his mother.

    Zakaraia reached around to the handle sticking out of his shoulder, yanked the knife out, tossed it across the way, then turned to face Tazaro and backhanded him. Tazaro stumbled to the ground but quickly sprung to his feet. Furious, he tried to rush Zakaraia, but Zakaraia stepped aside with ease and waved his hand, forcing Tazaro to his knees. His arms were bound behind his back like a prisoner¡¯s, and his head was locked forward.

    Zakaraia''s long, gloved hand found Mildred''s hair and, after grasping a clump of it, he jerked her to her knees and wrapped his other hand around her throat.

    ¡°Don¡¯t hurt her! Let her go! Take me instead!¡± Tazaro pleaded, struggling to break free. His shoulders ached in protest.

    ¡°Take you? Nah¡­deal¡¯s a deal.¡±

    Zakaraia wrapped his hands around Mildred''s skull. He twisted his hold sharply to snap her neck, then carelessly dropped her to the ground. He watched with glee as Tazaro lost his mind, fighting against the binding spell he cast so hard, Zakaraia wondered if the Sferran would twist his arm or pop his shoulder out of place.

    "You son-of-a-bitch! I''ll kill you!" Tazaro threatened with a feral bellow as he pulled against the rope. He felt the warm trickle of blood beyond the sting of rubbed skin.

    ¡°Oh, you will? You''re welcome to try, boy!" Zakaraia cackled, throwing his head back in a laugh.

    Tazaro found his footing and charged, headbutting Zakaraia in the stomach, kicking wildly with reckless abandon. Zakaraia barked out in surprise and tried to push Tazaro off, then cried out in pain as Tazaro bit at his hand so hard, Tazaro felt the crunch of bone in his jaws.

    "Argh, get the fuck off of me!" Zakaraia swore, attempting to push his thumb into Tazaro''s eye. He missed, and only scratched Tazaro''s forehead with a clawed hand.

    Annoyed, Zakaraia raised his knee and caught Tazaro in the groin. It was a cheap shot that made Tazaro see spots and cry out, releasing Zakaraia''s hand from his mouth.

    His breath caught in his chest, brought to his knees by the unrelenting pain he felt from his groin to his face, and he couldn''t stop himself from keeling over and vomiting. The decaying leaves on the forest floor were cool against his sweating, flushed forehead, and he struggled to squint at Zakaraia in his blurred and darkened sight.

    Zakaraia appeared to be cradling an injured hand, but it was little consolation to Tazaro as he lay drooling on the forest floor.

    "You fucking bastard. I ought to kill you, too." Zakaraia growled. He stood to his full height, then strode to Tazaro so quickly it was enough to snap Tazaro to reality. Tazaro tried to scoot back as Zakaraia advanced but hit the bark of a tree.

    Zakaraia grabbed Tazaro by the collar, lifted him, and slammed him into the tree, causing Tazaro to groan in pain when a knot pressed into his back. If there had been any more force behind the strike, Tazaro would have had the wind knocked out of him.

    As Zakaraia said something in a language Tazaro couldn''t understand, Tazaro felt another wave of electricity shoot through him, zapping him from head to toe. Zakaraia dropped him on the floor, then shoved him onto his back with his foot.

    Tazaro blinked sluggishly at the robed figure leering down at him, hot tears of frustration pooling in his eyes and slipping down his cheeks. He never imagined his own death, but even with his wild imagination, he didn''t think he could have ever dredged up something like this.

    The way Zakaraia stared down at him struck fear into every fiber of his being, and Tazaro hardened his expression to give the fiercest glare he could muster to alleviate the sting of embarrassment.

    "You are all just so stubborn, aren''t you? Sheeva gave me that same look just before she passed out."

    The hint that Sheeva was alive gave Tazaro hope, and, praying he hadn''t already betrayed himself with an expression of relief, steeled his gaze. Maybe, it would be a waiting game until Sheeva caught up with them.

    "So you lied about killing Sheeva?" Tazaro asked. Maybe, if he kept Zakaraia talking and distracted, Sheeva could swoop in for the vengeful kill.

    "Lied? Of course I lied! Hah¨Cwhen will people learn that a mother''s love is nothing, anyway? It''s false! Obligatory!"

    The inclination that his mother''s undoubted love for others was merely out of obligation made Tazaro furious, and he attempted to lunge for Zakaraia again. Zakaraia only stopped him with a rough step on his chest, pinning him to the ground.

    "Oh-ho, you''re feisty, aren''t you?" Zakaraia crooned with an alighted, toothy grin.

    "I swear, I''ll kill¨C

    ¨Creally, Sferran? Feel free to try!" Zakaraia boasted, stomping on Tazaro''s stomach and causing him to suck fruitlessly for air.

    "I''ve had enough of this boring beat-up. If you really want to kill me, I''ll be waiting in Torde, on Cruinia. Tell Sheeva that if she wants to try again, I''ll gladly kick her ass a second time!" He crowed before spreading his wings and taking off.

    Tazaro''s calls for the man to return and face him went unacknowledged, and Tazaro only stopped after he''d shouted himself hoarse. Panting after his tantrum, he followed the shrinking silhouette as far as he was able before it disappeared beyond the scope of the treetops.

    Unwilling to get to his feet, he curled up on his side and wept in frustration.

    When the spell released him, Tazaro immediately crawled to his mother¡¯s dead body but stopped as soon as he saw it, stricken by horror at the terrible, unnatural crane of her neck. Chilled with inexperience and uncertainty, he instinctively reached out to move her head back to its natural resting place, but stopped, feeling that to do such a thing would be disgraceful. Indiscernible squeaks passed through his throat as he wondered what he should do, since it definitely didn''t feel right to leave her body this way. Ultimately, and to his further disgust, he reached to straighten her neck.

    Mortified by the still-warm skin and loll of her head as he pulled her up by her shoulders, Tazaro grasped the head by its cheeks and turned, grimacing as the sickening crunch and grind met his ears. It made him cry out in horror, fully disgusted with himself.

    He avoided looking at the still-open eyes and reached out a trembling hand to close them.

    Reality settled, and he slowly understood that it could have been her mourning the loss and him with the snapped neck.

    ¡°It should have been me." He whispered harshly. "It should have been me, Mom!¡± He wailed, immense pain in his chest and a deep, seething anger welling in his gut that made his body shake. At a darkened thought that he would attempt to slit Zakaraia''s throat if he were to come back, Tazaro searched in the dim light for the knife he stabbed Zakaraia with. It glimmered at him a few feet away, blemished with dark blood, and Tazaro felt a vindictive hope that, perhaps, he managed to nick a major vein or artery severely enough the man would bleed out and die.

    However, as he thought about how shallowly the knife had sunk beneath the thick black robes and skin, he became doubtful of the effectiveness of his attack, and slumped back against the tree trunk.

    Hours passed as he stared off into space, numb and barely registering his current surroundings. He remained motionless, and before he could even fully begin to gather his thoughts about what to do, the sky started to lighten, a rising sun colorizing the dark-blue sky with blood-red and blood-orange hues. It illuminated his sleepless face, and he blinked as sharp morning rays pierced his vision; likely the first blink to be made in quite some time as his eyes stung, dry and aching.

    He wondered if he should search for Sheeva, but with the weight of his mother¡¯s body cradled in his lap, he remained frozen by crushing shame.

    Where was Sheeva? Surely, it¡¯d been at least a few hours since they¡¯d left the compound. Wouldn¡¯t she have located them by now?

    It filled him with a sense of relief that he believed he didn¡¯t deserve to feel, but with the knowledge that Sheeva was alive, it immediately soured into bitterness and anger as he wondered if Sheeva had abandoned them altogether and given chase. Perhaps, even, she¡¯d taken them for dead and had left their lifeless bodies to rot in the forest. He gritted his teeth as his eyes narrowed, and he glared at her knife in scorn, hateful of the oakwood-handled, blood-stained thing, hateful of his high hopes¡­hateful of his budding crush.

    He scoffed at himself.

    How insanely foolish it was of him to harbor such a crush on a cold-hearted¨C

    He shook his head at himself again, amazed with his blinding spite.

    Her trust in him had been genuine, if not sheltered by apprehension, and the gratitude in her eye as his hand caressed her smooth cheek could not have been more sincere. It was almost as though he were witnessing first-hand her abolishment of an extreme line of defenses, and he found he couldn¡¯t be happier that he¡¯d eased some unspoken pain. It was uniquely¡­bittersweet, and it calmed him enough to clarity.

    No, I don¡¯t think she¡¯d do that. Not after all her efforts in keeping us safe. Still, she should have found us by now.

    He looked around himself at the dense forest he¡¯d blindly been running in. There were no obvious markers, and the section he thought they¡¯d come from was full of broken bramble and underbrush. They¡¯d definitely gone off the trodden trail.

    Maybe, she¡¯s lost, too? He sputtered his lips in disbelief at himself. She had a lock of his hair that she¡¯d been using to track down Mildred and could have easily used it to track them down. His heart ached at the reminder that maybe, it wouldn¡¯t be as effective for those who were dead. Maybe, it only worked in tandem with someone¡¯s level of vitality.

    With the hope that it didn¡¯t matter whether someone was alive or dead, it left only one of two options for the lack of Sheeva¡¯s presence: either she was currently searching for them, or she was indeed unconscious.

    He recalled Zakaraia saying something about Sheeva giving him a fierce stare-down before she fainted. If Sheeva had fought as hard as he believed she would, she very well could be unconscious somewhere, or, if she had come to, was immobilized somehow.

    He looked at his mother¡¯s body, then in the direction of the trail full of broken bramble. He couldn¡¯t bear the thought of leaving his mother''s corpse to be preyed upon by wild animals, but if Sheeva was gravely injured and unable to care for herself, he found he couldn¡¯t bear the shame of that, either. A deep, albeit shaky, breath of crisp, morning air helped him mentally prepare himself, and he stooped over his mother¡¯s body.

    He tried to block out the encouraging voice telling him it would be like lifting a cumbersome log.

    With a grunt, he shifted her over his shoulders, then, with another loud groan to offset the physical grievance of lifting, he forced himself to his feet with Mildred¡¯s body set across his back in a fireman¡¯s carry.

    His first step was like lead and his entire body was weak, and the deadweight he carried caused him to move even slower. Still, he pressed on, coming to a small clearing where he paused to catch his breath and readjust to carry her in his arms, as she would when carrying him to his room when he was a small child. This struck tears in his eyes as the lullaby she would sing him and his sister to sleep with rang in his ears, but he squeezed his eyes shut to hold back, determined to block out the melody and find the fortress. When Tazaro saw the abandoned fortress¡¯s watchtower peeking out above the treetops beyond the scope of his bleary eyesight, he realized he had not gotten nearly as far away from the place as he thought.

    The sun spread its rays on the grim forest as it rose, and the morning dew wet his jeans and soaked through his boots to freeze his toes. As Tazaro reached the clearing with the meadow surrounding the fortress, he felt relieved, and searched the grassy plain for Sheeva. Perhaps she was limping in their direction.

    However, the misted, mourning wildflowers were the only things to turn their attention on him as he brought the sun with him, gentle beams warming his backside.

    His stomach churned, then turned sour. If she was able to move, had she simply stayed put and waited for them?

    Pushing on and trying to ignore the now-soaked state of his pants as the water brushed off of the tallgrasses, he neared the gate and peered inside.

    Sheeva lay on the cobblestone, and his gut turned. Maybe, she had been injured to the brink of death, and had died sometime between Zakaraia leaving the fortress and his own arrival. He broke into an exhausted, stumbling run, and as he approached her, he saw that she was covered in blood, wings splayed out like a winged insect pinned to a collection board and arms crossed over themselves in an angelic, restful, almost remorseful state. His stomach churned as he thought Zakaraia might have taken the time to pose her that way.

    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    Tazaro shook his head at the disturbing thought, turned, and gently set his mother¡¯s body down. Rigor mortis had apparently begun to set in, evident by the stiffness of her neck and shoulders as they refused to lay flat on the ground and her head didn¡¯t fall to the side.

    He tried not to think about it and turned back to Sheeva to tend to her. He knelt less-than-gracefully at her side as his shaking legs gave in to plummet his knee to the cobblestone floor.

    Sheeva''s left wing was swollen on its first limb, and he wondered if it was broken. He hoped it was just fractured instead, but with such swelling, he doubted so. Her right arm had a nasty purple bruise in the middle of it, too. He grimaced and hung his head in shame at his anger¨Cshe had been literally broken and beaten down into unconsciousness, or possibly even death.

    Considering Zakaraia¡¯s invitation, Tazaro dismissed the latter outcome. He reached and shook Sheeva¡¯s shoulder, grateful that her shoulders gave and her body moved with the motion.

    ¡°Sheeva?¡±

    She did not stir. Tazaro held his hand above Sheeva¡¯s mouth to feel for air and watched for a rise and fall of her chest. It was faint, but the brush of air against his hand was enough proof.

    Still breathing, barely. Tazaro shook Sheeva again, saying her name louder.

    She woke, blinking slowly. As she looked around, Tazaro saw confusion in her eyes. She went to sit up but cried out, reached for her wing, and barked from more pain as she attempted to move her arm. He gently pushed her back to lie down.

    ¡°No, wait, don¡¯t move! Whatever''s wrong, you¡¯ll make it worse.¡± He ordered. She squeezed her eyes shut at the pain. He found her bag and took out her medical kit, looking at the contents, searching for a splint, thankful that he and Micah had agreed to let Vincent practice applying first aid on them, and had them do the same to him.

    ¡°Worse?¡± She wondered. ¡°Am I alive?¡± She asked softly.

    Tazaro was thankful that she could still talk if need be since a violent, violet bruise on Sheeva¡¯s cheek made him think she had been sucker-punched. Apparently, Zakaraia had not broken her jaw, too, as he seemed to be well capable of doing. Tazaro scrunched his nose as the crunch of Llyud¡¯s busted jaw rang in his ears.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± He forced for an answer, trying to focus. ¡°Yeah, and I¡¯m trying to help you stay that way. Shut up and lie still.¡± He ordered, giving the rest of her body a quick glance. A pool of blood on her pantleg snared his attention, and he decided to look at the damage there, first.

    Sheeva blinked in a stupor and stared at the sky, and as she felt him tending to her wounds, her muddled brain fiercely registered the pain. She was alive. She forced herself to look around as well as she could when chilling fear began to set in.

    ¡°Mildred?¡± She asked. Tazaro shook his head, feeling his face heat and tears well in his eyes again. He blinked them away as he tried to focus on tending to Sheeva. With all her injuries, he feared she would die, too.

    ¡°Don¡¯t. Don¡¯t. I, I have to take care of you now.¡± He forced, taking a shaky, shallow breath. He peeled away the jagged shred of fabric covering her thigh and wet a rag with a sterilizing solution from a jug, and wiped at it tenderly. He murmured an apology for the sting when she winced at it.

    ¡°Please don''t. I-I fear I have¡­wet myself.¡± She admitted, turning her head away in mortified worry. Tazaro glanced at the area in question¨Cit did not seem so.

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t look like it. I think it may have just been this wound.¡± He assured, checking the nasty gash on her thigh. Even if she had pissed her pants, he wasn''t about to tell her so nor pay it any mind, if only to spare her from further embarrassment and to focus on patching her up.

    He grabbed one of her knives, checking the handle. It was bound with leather. He hoped it would suffice as something for her to bite down on and held the handle to her mouth, asking her to take it. She refused it, casting an embarrassed look to the wall across the way.

    ¡°Look, you didn''t piss yourself, okay? You''ve got a gash in your leg, and it''s bleeding. I''m-I''m gonna try to bandage it up, so don¡¯t be stubborn. This looks like it will hurt.¡± He snapped.

    Seeming relieved, she opened her mouth and took the knife, watching as he tore the fabric to give himself room to work with.

    Tazaro was certain the muffled noise behind the blade was a curt, pained, swear as the antiseptic he poured on the cut foamed and likely burned like hell, but he paid it no mind as he hastily cleaned it to the best of his ability before slapping gauze to the freshly bleeding cut. Breathing hard, Sheeva assisted him in wrapping the bandage around the gauze to keep it in place by lifting her leg as well as she could¨Cwhich wasn''t far, yielding only a couple inches of space between her leg and the cobblestone floor.

    She reached up to take the knife out of her mouth and panted for air, huffing soft words of appreciation and apology for her vulgar language.

    "I''m sure there''s more where that came from. I think your arm is broken, and your wing, too." He grunted, looking for the splint he''d set within reach.

    "Get the arm fir¨Cargh, Vilg!" She cried, face contorting into one of immense pain as she foolishly tried to sit up again.

    "Stop moving, Sheeva," He commanded firmly with a press on her uninjured shoulder, trying to think back on what he had done for practice with the crude plank of wood and knitted scarf as a makeshift splint.

    He grabbed the boarded mat and wrapped it around and set her arm. Aside from her whimpers of pain, it was easy enough to do.

    He reached for the second splint she carried and wrapped the first limb of her wing, holding it there as he grabbed strips of bandages and tied them snugly around the roll, wincing as her whimpering intensified and muttering apologies at her pain. He sat back to check his work. He figured it would hold, and helped her to sit up to support her arm in a sling. Tazaro paused as he noticed how desperately she seemed to cling to him. Her hand gripped his shirt tightly, trembling with the effort. Her head fell forward in fatigue and sat against his shoulder.

    ¡°I am...alive.¡± He barely heard her whisper.

    He let go of a tense breath and held her as tenderly as he could to prevent harming her any further. Boldly, he patted her head and stroked her hair. As he cradled the back of her head in his hand, he noticed an uneven chunk of hair and wondered what had happened. Searching the grounds, he saw Abraxas lying a few feet away and a small pile of hair a little further down.

    His gut tightened, and he jumped slightly as she began to weep.

    ¡°I fought so hard. I¨CI tried, and he simply, simply...¡± She shuddered at something, spawning terrible thoughts in Tazaro¡¯s head. ¡°Don¡¯t leave me alone; I don¡¯t want to be alone. Please don¡¯t leave me, please, please!¡± She babbled deliriously as she wailed.

    Unsure of what to do and hoping she would forgive him, Tazaro pulled her into a firm hug and began to rock, attempting to shush her and calm her down, surprised to find he had a few tears left to cry as they fell down his cheeks.

    ¡°Rest now. You¡¯re safe. I got you.¡± He cooed, fighting to not stare off into the space of the firepit, mentally shaken as he was. Eventually, she fell asleep in his hold, and there were a couple of times when Tazaro had the clarity to move her out of his lap. The clarity was only brief enough for him to understand reality before battered dissociation set in¡­and how bleak reality was as the gears of imagination cranked in his brain to spit out grim scenarios of the fight that took place or show vivid replays of his mother¡¯s split-second murder.

    The sun had risen towards the middle of the sky before Tazaro was lucid enough to move Sheeva out of his lap, who was, thankfully, still sleeping. He shrugged off his jacket, balled it up, and with her bag, propped her up as well as he could, trying to be mindful of the massive wing in its awkward splint. He stopped abruptly when he noticed the darkening shadow of a handprint wrapped around her neck, and his eyes widened as he gulped and touched his own throat.

    Fury breached his fear, and he scowled fiercely, looking around again as though Zakaraia were still there.

    Lingering.

    Lurking.

    He bolted across the cobblestone courtyard and grabbed Sheeva¡¯s sword, momentarily surprised at the weight of it, and ripped it out of its scabbard, holding it in threat as he jerked his head around in search. Tazaro hoped Zakaraia was still around, and even though he had no practice with a sword, he found he yearned for the opportunity to stab and kill the man.

    But, as he scanned the stone walls, watchtower, and entryway to the fortress and its cobblestone courtyard, Zakaraia¡¯s shrouded, robed self was nowhere to be seen. Tazaro¡¯s emboldened rage faltered back into fear and worry. His shoulders drooped, and he slouched and sighed in defeat, observing the steel blade he held to diminish his discomfort as his head shook sadly.

    The thorny vine of some plant he did not recognize crept toward the edge, and the cross-threads of leather straps on the handle were weathered and frayed. The pommel stone had a tarnished spot, like a weathered carriage hitch. The blade itself was straight on one edge, honed to a deadly sharpness on the other. He pointed it out in front of him, amazed by how much effort he needed to put forth to keep it up without trembling. He swung it and attempted to stop, almost lurching forward from the momentum.

    Of course, it would be much different than swinging around a tree branch! He scolded himself.

    Still, Tazaro stopped despite his growing curiosity and budding determination, not wanting to break or dent the blade or stab himself, and sheathed the weapon.

    Sheeva coughed and groaned behind him, and Tazaro turned to her, hoping he had not been caught. Even if he had, he would argue that he needed to learn how to handle a sword since she could not do so herself.

    Sheeva had not woken but instead begun to shiver, a pained expression on her pallid face. Tazaro found her emergency blanket and began to unfold it, flicking it straight and kneeling to drape it over her. She woke up with a startled ¡°bah!¡± and looked around with a pain-drunk expression as she tried to push his arms away.

    ¡°Whoa, hey, easy¨Cit''s me!¡± He said softly, kneeling and covering her with the blanket he had unfolded. Her fierce, frightened expression softened as she calmed and let the weight of the blanket pacify her. Tazaro held her water pouch to her lips and helped her drink, gently dabbing away the rivulet that flowed down her cheek with his sleeve.

    ¡°Search in my bag,¡± She began after a few moments, still slurring over her words. ¡°There are painkiller capsules.¡±

    Tazaro searched the littered contents of Sheeva¡¯s bag, finding a beaten, weathered satchel. He opened it and peered inside. The energy cubes she had were mixed with small, green chunks of what he assumed were the items in question. He fished for two of the painkiller capsules along with a few cubes, two for her and two for himself.

    He reached under her neck and supported her as she struggled to sit up with only her left arm. Her fist balled up and gripped her pants as she forced herself to breathe through the mind-numbing pain. She groaned in pain, and her head lolled aside in exhaustion. Tazaro moved Sheeva to cradle against his chest and allowed her to rest her head against his shoulder for comfort, ignoring the sweat that covered the nape of his neck from her brow.

    He crushed the capsules and cubes as well as he could with his fingers so that she did not have to worry about chewing them and held the stuff to her mouth, followed by her water pouch. She drank deeply before giving a muffled sound to signal she was done. Tazaro popped the two cubes he grabbed for himself and chewed them slowly, then took a small sip, wanting to save as much water as he could for her.

    Pained sighs and eventually even breaths were the only sound between them while they waited for the medicine to kick in and do its work.

    ¡°You need to anchor the wing in place so that I do not move it.¡± She mumbled.

    ¡°What do I do?¡± Tazaro asked, reaching for the bandages. For as thankful as Tazaro was that Vincent taught him some basic things, Vincent was not a veterinarian.

    ¡°Tuck it in. Wrap around the joint of the wing. Cross the bandages over and under.¡± She explained, trying to demonstrate the pattern with her finger. Gently he traced his finger on her wing in the direction he thought she meant. She nodded, taking in a sharp breath and grimacing as he grabbed the second limb and guided the feathers down and across her back, holding it in place to firmly wrap the bandages around the joint like she told him to.

    ¡°Once more. Have to restrain it more. Across the chest. Like you would for a sling.¡±

    He followed her order and strapped the wing down, joint resting by her right shoulder, wrapping bandages around her left shoulder and under her right armpit. When he was done, she went to lean back. He shuffled her bag further underneath her back to prop her up and avoid lying on her injured wing.

    ¡°How did it happen, your mother¡¯s death?¡± Sheeva asked. Tazaro scowled, turned his back on her, and wrapped his knees to his chest, setting his forehead on them. She listened to him cry, reminding herself to not blame him, as she had done the same for Rose. Months passed before she finally stopped crying. She anticipated Tazaro mourning for months, too.

    ¡°He¡­he snapped her neck,¡± He answered. ¡°I-I stabbed him in the shoulder, and it didn¡¯t even phase him. He did something to me¨Ctied me up, or something. He made me watch.¡±

    She felt her stomach drop, previously hoping he had not witnessed it. At least she had gone quickly, and Tazaro had not been forced to watch the light and sorrow fade from her eyes.

    ¡°It was quick, then. I¡¯m...I¡¯m so sorry. I...fought so hard, Tazaro. He is beyond my skill. I, I failed.¡±

    He turned to her, amazed and speechless. Tazaro was unsure how he felt at the moment, still in shock, but as the tense frown grew on his face, he vaguely understood that he did not blame her. She had been unconscious, for fuck¡¯s sake. If she had not been knocked out, he severely doubted her ability to even move. There would have been no way for her to come to their aid.

    A ¡®blip¡¯ caught his attention, and he jerked his head up as panic prickled through his skin. Bartholomew¡¯s tall stature made its appearance, and as the creature seemed to casually stroll closer to them, Tazaro stood sharply to glare at him.

    ¡°You! You fucking bastard, where were you?¡± He barked. Bartholomew stopped, confused at first, then crossed his arms and scowled. His tail flicked behind him in annoyance, much like a cat¡¯s as he refused an answer.

    ¡°That guy kicked our ass; he killed my mother¨CYou¡¯re a powerful thing! Couldn¡¯t you have done something?¡± Tazaro exploded, charging forth to stick his face in the Ta¡¯hal¡¯s¡­at least, as well as he could, being nearly two feet shorter than the beast of legend.

    ¡°No,¡± Bartholomew simply replied, teal eyes leering down at Tazaro as his maw dropped in a frown. Yellowing fangs peeked out from beneath his lips as they curled in further disappointment.

    Furious at the creature¡¯s lack of sympathy, Tazaro tried to tackle the beast to the ground. However, his breath caught in his chest as his body became ice-cold and numb as he fell straight through, clambering to the ground into a shivering heap.

    ¡°I have a reason for saying no: as you have just learned, I lack a physical body.¡± When he looked at Sheeva, Bartholomew winced. ¡°I see you survived. How fortunate, or maybe, unfortunate.¡±

    Sheeva didn¡¯t acknowledge him and stared at the firepit, thinking.

    I¡­I honestly don¡¯t know.

    Bartholomew crossed his arms. He would consider healing her out of pity if he had an entity. Belias might be grateful for the fact, but without a physical presence, he could do nothing.

    Unwilling to entertain darkening thoughts, Sheeva scanned the fortress foyer while contemplating their next move. She could hardly move, and by the time she was ready to, Mildred¡¯s body would begin to decompose, attracting scavengers. Mildred had not done any physical fighting, but she fought for them with words.

    Sheeva gave a small smile in thanks.

    ¡°We should give her a warrior¡¯s funeral. A cremation.¡± Sheeva announced. She watched Tazaro turn to her, then turn his back on her.

    ¡°I would rather bury her.¡± He countered.

    ¡°If we had the privilege, I would. But we have neither a shovel nor the time to get Mildred¡¯s body back to Roussel safely.¡± Sheeva answered, trying to exercise patience. ¡°This is the most respectful thing we can do for her.¡±

    Tazaro took a deep breath, held it, then let it out slowly, admitting she was probably right.

    He got to his feet, headed for the woodpile next to the smithing area, gathered some, and began to set up a funeral pyre in the pit.

    "If I could move, I would help you." Sheeva offered.

    ¡°Even if you could move, I can¡¯t let you do that. I will do it myself!¡± He growled.

    ¡°Damn it, Tazaro!¡± She barked, then winced in pain as the wound on her chest ached.

    Tazaro stopped, surprised into silence.

    ¡°Mildred was a good woman to me. I¡­¡± She paused to find the words to say. ¡°I cared about her. This hurts me too.¡± She told him. ¡°She encouraged me to think better of myself. She was the first person in a long time to see who I was, not what. I¡¯ll¡­I will always be grateful for that,¡± She admitted. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­think I take her death lightly.¡±

    He felt his tension drain and crossed his arms, uncomfortable with his rude self in response to her good intentions. With a relenting sigh, he scratched at the tickle of embarrassment on the back of his neck.

    "I''m sorry," He apologized.

    Sheeva shook her head.

    "I...get it. Believe me, I-I get it," She replied, absent gaze dropping to her hands, folded in her lap. She let her head lie back against the bag as she felt her face burn and her eyes well with tears, which spilled out onto her temples as she fought not to cry in front of him.

    Tazaro focused on gathering enough wood for a proper, effective cremation, stacking and arranging them in the pit. As he stooped and picked up his mother''s body, then set her upon the leveled stack, he took a moment to position her in a peaceful, slumbering pose, trying not to think about how disturbingly cold her flesh was.

    Although she had already shown him once after they had both awoken after Llyud''s ambush in the clearing, Sheeva patiently drew Tazaro the sigil for her fire-breathing spell with a piece of charcoal and a shaky hand. She readily encouraged him to cast it, curious to know if he could handle such magic.

    After all, Sheeva had lit Rose¡¯s pyre and decided the ritual would be the same for him. If he could not manage such magic right away, she still had flint and tinder he could use.

    Tazaro returned from the field outside the fortress and walked to the mound of firewood to set a bouquet of wildflowers in his mother''s hands. He didn''t know what kind of flowers they were, but he felt his mother wouldn''t have cared if she were still alive.

    ¡°Goodbye, Mom. I-I love you.¡± He took a few steps back and traced the seals for the fire spell that Sheeva taught him. He drew in some breath and spat out a wispy, weak fire as he blew at the stacked tinder, bracken, and wood.

    A massive, body-length tingle and instant fatigue-and-chill of his body followed, and he took a knee, not expecting such a thing. The kindling caught fire, and he forced himself to his feet to step away from the heat of the flame. He sat down by Sheeva, took the section of the blanket she offered, and stared at the fire. Neither said a word as they watched the body burn. Hot tears dripped down his face, and she could see him trembling as he tried again to keep himself in check, likely embarrassed.

    "Allow yourself to mourn. Cry when you need to. Smile when you want to. You''ll regret it if you don''t. The emotional pain will...fester and embitter you." Sheeva insisted, wiping at some tears of her own. She turned her gaze to the fire as he broke, holding his head in his hands.

    Sheeva reflected on Rose''s cremation, scoffing at her melodramatic self; she had chopped off all of her hair in a fury and almost lost Rose¡¯s ribbon to the rising flame. She sighed and reached for his right hand with her unbroken left. It was chilled and trembling but came to life and squeezed hers tightly in appreciation as he weaved their fingers together and clutched it.

    ¡°Tell me, Tazaro: what¡¯s your favorite memory of your mother?¡±

    And so, he kept away the silence with tales and memories from his childhood, falling silent when Sheeva¡¯s head drooped against his shoulder. Tazaro glanced, finding she had fallen asleep, and felt relief, then attempted to shuffle her against her bag and drape her blanket over her in gratitude.

 Chapter 13: A Hasty Retreat

    Sheeva trembled as she struggled to stand, then stared at her bag with tired eyes. She had been in too much pain to sleep well, and when she finally managed the pain, she found her position too uncomfortable to even begin to doze off. She had neither the energy nor the will to carry it.

    ¡°Would you carry my bag?¡± She asked.

    Tazaro looked at her and immediately doubted she could walk decently at all. She was using a long stick to support herself, though remained hunched over with exhaustion. Her unbroken wing had been retracted, and the injured one was still tied down, its tip jutting out from behind her awkwardly such that the end feathers almost grazed the ground. Her right arm rested in its sling, strapped against her body with a loose piece of twine since they had run out of bandages.

    ¡°I can do that. Are you, uh, sure you want to walk?¡± He watched her squint her eyes at him, then look away, embarrassed. Her stubbornness seemed to know no bounds. He stooped down, grabbed her bag, and threw it over his shoulders, latching the support band together around his waist.

    ¡°We will take it slow.¡± Sheeva decided.

    ¡°I can¡­carry you, you know. It''s kind of necessary, isn''t it?¡± He offered, holding out his hands.

    Sheeva¡¯s eyes widened, and she felt her face warm as a flash of whatever her pain-riddled brain had dredged up to distract her from reality shone in her mind¡¯s eye, and she looked away from him again, biting her lip. How inappropriate of her to have succumbed to such fantasy in the first place!

    ¡°That is not happening.¡± She said firmly, frustrated as the ghost of his hand rested on her cheek.

    Tazaro sighed, then started to head out, waiting for her to follow. He listened as he heard the shuffle of her feet and the thunk of the stick on the cobblestone, then turned to face her. She visibly shook with the effort to stand, and he was amazed she could even manage that.

    He huffed and rolled his eyes at her ridiculous stubbornness.

    ¡°Fuck it¨CI¡¯m carrying you.¡± He decided, walking up to her. Stunned, she did not have the wherewithal to fight him as he scooped her up, and she squeaked in surprise as he positioned her to fit comfortably in his arms, trying to make sure he did not jar her wing in any way.

    He paused with the sudden, gloomy reminder that he¡¯d just been carrying his deceased mother in the same way the previous morning.

    Sheeva hit his chest weakly, glaring up at him.

    ¡°Put me down!¡± She ordered, bringing Tazaro out of his gloomy thoughts and into an irritated mood. Annoyed at her struggle and dismissing her request with a stern frown, he started walking. He tightened his hold on her as she squirmed, trying to ignore the ache of his muscles.

    ¡°Would you please knock that off? You¡¯ll make me drop you, and you¡¯ll just get hurt more!¡± He growled, relieved when she slowed and seemed to settle, though remaining stiff and alert. Still, it was better than wrestling someone akin to a hyperactive battle dog.

    Tazaro drew in a clearing breath as he found himself wondering what might have happened to Jax, then looked at the forest in an effort to recall which way Roussell would be.

    Sheeva saw him looking around, and, curious, focused to see if, since she could use a severed chunk of hair, it would allow her to guide them home.

    It didn¡¯t work as she had hoped, nor did any strings head towards Mildred¡¯s ashes, though a tiny trail still wandered off towards the northeast, where his father presumably resided.

    She would keep that tidbit tucked away for a later time.

    ¡°It¡¯s not working, so I¡¯m not sure. But, the sun¡¯s still rising, so if we head against it, we should find our way soon enough. I¡¯ll¡­try to rest some more,¡± She agreed.

    Grateful she was willing to work with him a little, Tazaro took off.

    As he stepped over a log, he realized she was still tense, and it seemed to make carrying her more difficult as the reminder blared in the back of his mind.

    ¡°You can relax, you know. It¡¯ll make carrying you easier, maybe. Hopefully, it might just help you, too. Lighten up; I¡¯ll do all the legwork.¡± Tazaro suggested. Sheeva huffed, then squeaked and grabbed onto his shirt as he stopped and adjusted his hold.

    At least she could still move, he supposed.

    ¡°Seriously,¡± He groaned, feeling his face scrunch as he tried to will away tears. ¡°Relax. I¡¯m not trying to hurt you. I¡¯m¡­¡± He paused, unwilling to say that her stillness reminded him of the rigor mortis state of his mother¡¯s dead body. ¡°I''m trying to help you. It''s¨Cwell, it''s the least I can do, considering¡­¡± He assured, trying to give her his best soothing voice.

    After reasoning that she had no other choice, Sheeva took a deep breath and sunk into his hold. At this, he was able to carry her better. Her head rested against his left shoulder, and her unbroken arm reached up to try to support herself as her right lay slack in its sling.

    Tazaro pressed onward and let his mind wander. Sheeva occasionally tensed as he took a wrong step or slipped, but slowly relaxed in his hold again as he continued on his way.

    Along the way, he did his best to block the memory of Sheeva wailing in his arms and begging not to be left alone, damned if he brought it up. She had not said anything to him about it, and he hoped it was because she had no recollection in her brain¡¯s desperation to cope rather than embarrassment of her conduct...now relatable as her situation was.

    As he contemplated why she was so closed off, he decided it had to do with all the hellacious things she suffered through.

    Rose.

    Llyud.

    Llyud dying at someone else¡¯s hand.

    And now, blaming herself for his mother''s death and whatever had transpired in the fight with Zakaraia. Coupled with the events in Torde and the plucking of her wings, he imagined there was even more that she refused to tell him. Sheeva had closed herself off from people to protect herself and them from pain and suffering. It was a lonely, depressing way to live, he told himself.

    He wondered that since she agreed to teach him to fly and even taught him a fire spell, she would still be willing to train him. Truth be told, he felt obligated to try, since the bastard had killed his mother and beaten Sheeva to a pulp. Even if she denied it, she would probably need help the next time around.

    He paused and shuffled her further up in his hold, then continued. Though the chilly air nipped at his nose, Sheeva was warm against him.

    ¡°Thank you for carrying me. I¨C¡± Sheeva hissed in a sharp breath of air as he took a wrong step, then settled, pressing her forehead intently against his skin. Her fingers rubbed the fabric of his shirt between them. He paused for a moment, wondering what else she had to say, glad she couldn''t witness the red on his cheeks at her close contact.

    ¡°I am...I cannot believe I am alive. I thought for sure, I had died. That I had¨C¡± Sheeva stopped and tightened her arm around his neck. Tazaro felt her shake from the effort and gave her a light, reassuring squeeze of his own.

    ¡°Forgive me for my invasion of your personal space," She apologized.

    He looked down at her, amazed that her sense of personal boundaries was so deeply ingrained that it held up in this state.

    "Don''t worry about it¨CI mean, I''m the one carrying you, so¡­" He trailed off, trying to think of a way to ease her anxiousness.

    "You are¡­generous, and your voice, it¡¯s¡­pleasant. Soothing. It helped.¡± She murmured, giving a pleased hum as she settled against his shoulder again, attempting to give him a hug with the awkward way her arm looped around his neck.

    ¡°¡®Helped?¡¯ Helped with what?¡± He asked, feeling odd hearing about how his voice had been "soothing."

    "Did you¡­think you had died?"

    The rush of wind past his neck and the sudden nervous tension of her body told him she

    probably would not answer, or perhaps she could not remember.

    ¡°Yes,¡± She admitted in a shaky, small whisper.

    He took a deep breath and boldly pressed his cheek against the top of her head.

    ¡°O-ok. But, um, you didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± She muttered with a seemingly disappointed sigh. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t,¡± she repeated.

    Tazaro cleared his throat and carried on, trying to mentally distance himself from the situation as anger boiled within when his brain reminded him why they were out here. It was difficult to keep distracted; with how warm she was against him, he may as well have been next to a furnace. She was surprisingly light, considering how much muscle she had to have to be able to kick ass and take an ass-kicking. He wondered if the fact that she had wings had something to do with it.

    "Had I¡­died, I''d at least like to have known¡­"

    His pace slowed as she trailed her hand into his hair, her nails lightly grazing the back of his neck and causing a gasp to rush past parted lips as his cheeks heated even more. As he heard a soft, amused sigh and a chuckle, his heart skipped a beat.

    ¡°How¡­unnatural of me, to feel so comfortable,¡± She chuckled as her head dropped onto his shoulder in exhaustion. The tip of her nose grazed the nape of his neck, and she whispered something incoherent into his chest.

    ¡°What?¡± He asked, trying to make sense of her nonsensical rambling.

    "You have a wonderful smile, and your eyes, they hold such intensity. Recalling them, in the end, gave me peace. Had I died, I would have been...content.¡± Sheeva murmured, her hand dropping from his chest in exhaustion.

    His stomach dropped in fear, and he stopped to glance down at her. Her eyes had closed, and her breaths flowed in short, strained wisps along his exposed skin. Gently as he could in his growing alarm, he shook her.

    ¡°Sheeva? Hey, Sheeva?¡±

    She sucked in a breath and shivered as her eyes peeled open.

    ¡°Tam?¡±

    ¡°I-I was worried; thought maybe you were¨Cplease don¡¯t die on me.¡± He pleaded, voice laced with anxiety.

    ¡°You are here, now. I will be fine.¡± She whispered tenderly, reaching up again to touch his cheek with a relieved smile. Perhaps I will not die alone, after all.

    Tazaro froze when she placed a tender peck on his lips before she leaned her head back onto his shoulder. The pads of her fingers brushed his jawline as her hand fell again, and he glanced at her, fully surprised and perplexed.

    ¡°What are you--What just happened?" He asked, still trying to grasp the situation.

    Feeling the burn of fever and moisture of sweat upon her brow as her breaths flashed against his chest in short wisps, he slowly understood. "Oh. You¡¯re¡­¡± Tazaro bit his tongue to prevent the whole sentence from passing his lips.

    Apparently delirious. He finished silently, jerking his head back to look forward as he trudged on.

    As the wisps of hot breath swept across him again, he stole a look at her face¨Cpassive and peaceful, despite the sheen of fever''s sweat, dark bags under her eyes, and the sickly bruise ailing her cheekbone. She was still asleep and probably would be for a while.

    Flummoxed, flustered, and mildly embarrassed, Tazaro trudged on.

    At the sound of a ¡®blip,¡¯ Tazaro tensed and crouched, ready to sprint. The adrenaline ripped through his muscles as his hair stood on the back of his neck and he jerked his head up to look forward and around himself. His face contorted in a fierce, menacing glare, but as Bartholomew¡¯s apparition passed through the trunk of a tree and stopped in front of him, Tazaro settled, though still angry.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have time to deal with you,¡± Tazaro growled, trying to ignore the super-charged tremble rippling through his body from the fight-or-flight response. His legs wobbled with his first several steps, but as he pushed on, he found himself able to walk decently again.

    Tazaro refused the ta¡¯hal acknowledgment as he passed him.

    ¡°Sheeva¡¯s looking worse for wear.¡±

    Tazaro¡¯s frown deepened, and he had not realized his hold on Sheeva tightened until his knuckles ached. Bartholomew floated, ghost-like, at their side through trees and branches. Tazaro¡¯s thoughts raced, and as Bartholomew¡¯s mysterious disappearances dawned on him, he stopped and turned.

    ¡°Where the hell did you go? Why do you keep disappearing? Are you in league with Zakaria? Are you working with him? It¡¯s all just some ploy, isn¡¯t it?¡± Tazaro exploded in accusations. He was thankful he had Sheeva wrapped up in his arms; otherwise, he would likely try to grapple the celestial beast and pummel his fists into its cat-like face.

    Not that it would do much good, since he had already learned the beast lacked a tangible, physical form.

    ¡°Working with him? Pah! That would be the last thing I do with that traitor!¡± Bartholomew snapped back, hovering in front of them while he crossed his arms. His leathery wings flapped through low-hanging branches. Tazaro huffed and shook his head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t buy it. I don¡¯t buy it at all!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m on the hunt for that skulka, too!¡±

    ¡°Then why didn¡¯t you stick around after Sheeva and I went to look for his body? That¡¯s awfully suspicious and pretty cowardly! You could have just picked him off then!¡±

    ¡°I am not a coward, and I sure as hell don¡¯t need to explain myself to you!¡± Bartholomew¡¯s minty-green eyes flared in rage, and he swiped at Tazaro with a claw. Tazaro barked out a cry as ice ran through his veins, and when his legs collapsed underneath him, he attempted to take a knee as gracefully as he could. Still, he dropped far too fast and grunted in pain as his kneecap banged a rock and a tingling jolt from a twinged-nerve shot into his foot.

    Sheeva stirred at the sudden drop, and she groaned and hissed as a wide-spread pain shackled her body.

    ¡°What...happened?¡± She slurred.

    Tazaro looked at her apologetically, but did not answer her question. His suspicions of Bartholomew needed to wait until she was lucid enough to grasp them. Perhaps, even, she might have her own suspicions to add.

    Tazaro looked for Bartholomew, who had perched himself up in a tree, glowering down at the both of them.

    ¡°Bartholomew happened. You ok?¡± He asked, not breaking eye contact with the being.

    ¡°In pain.¡± She answered.

    Tazaro broke his stare-down with the unblinking creature to glance at her. Her face was still flush and sweaty, brow pinched with the grimace of discomfort. He jerked back to eye the ta¡¯hal, wondering if he could take a chance setting Sheeva down and settling for a few moments while he gave her some pain medicine.

    ¡°Well? Help her. I¡¯ll not kill you, remember? Made a deal. I keep my deals.¡± Bartholomew insisted with a dismissive wave.

    Tazaro settled and moved to lay her against the base of a tree. He shrugged the bag off his shoulders, retrieved the medical kit, took out a painkiller, and held it to her mouth. She took it and swallowed it down with water as Tazaro held the pouch to her mouth. He took a sip for himself.

    She closed her eyes and settled, and within a few minutes, she was snoring again.

    Satisfied that she would be fine, he turned back to Bartholomew who was now standing on the forest floor with two clawed hind legs, tail flicking about behind him. Tazaro followed the tan tail blade with cautious eyes, wondering if he were going to be impaled with it again. His body shivered, almost seeming conditioned already, and he prayed that was not the case¨Che did not want to put up with constant, full-body chills.

    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Look: As I told you two days ago, I planned to get my revenge. But¡­that¡¯s been taken care of.¡± Bartholomew paused, rubbing his temple with a claw, tutting to himself.

    Somewhat. The rest of it will have to wait, ¡®cuz I really can¡¯t do squat like this, He mused.

    ¡°I lack an entity. If I were to charge into battle, the most I could probably do is scare someone out of their wits and make them need to change their shorts.¡± Bartholomew answered, demeanor softening as he calmed.

    Tazaro felt his shoulders sag.

    There went the idea of using Bartholomew as bait in case Zakaraia came back.

    ¡°Ok, so¡­¡± New plan, he thought to himself, sighing again. ¡°You said...you keep your deals?¡±

    ¡°Some of us are honorable. We have a code, you know. Not a great one, but it¡¯s still something.¡±

    "I see. What happens if a ta¡¯hal breaks their deal?¡±

    Bartholomew blinked at the question, then stooped to spiral his tail and sit back on it. His legs crossed, and he leaned forward to prop his arms on his thighs in thought.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯ve never witnessed it. I¡¯ve never done it personally, either.¡± He tapped his chin as he thought about it. ¡°Maybe we turn to stone. Maybe, we turn into a giant black hole.¡± Bartholomew visibly shuddered at that, and it snared Tazaro¡¯s curiosity. ¡°Who knows?¡± Bartholomew added with a shrug.

    Tazaro had no idea what a ¡®black hole¡¯ was, but if it could make a ta¡¯hal shudder, it had to be terrifying. Maybe, it was some form of eldritch aberration, with thousands of unblinking eyes, hundreds of green, slimy tentacles, and an insatiable hunger for Sferrans. He brushed his shoulders off as he felt his skin crawl.

    "Mom said something about making a deal with him, so I just thought, maybe¨C"

    "--what, he''d burst into a million pieces? If only!" Bartholomew interrupted. "And that still wouldn¡¯t be good enough for the bastard!" He grumbled, causing Tazaro to silence. Any further commentary he might have would likely be interrupted without remorse.

    Still, since ¡°that bastard¡± had not seemed to have died somehow, Tazaro rejected the idea that Zakaraia might be some type of supernatural being.

    After several sighs, Bartholomew stood and stepped toward Sheeva, a contemplative look on his face.

    Tazaro wedged himself between the two, giving Bartholomew another menacing look.

    ¡°Oh? You¡¯re gonna stop me?¡± Bartholomew asked with a derisive laugh before he continued onward, stepping through Tazaro. ¡°Good luck with that!¡±

    As the apparition floating through sapped him of his body heat, Tazaro fell to a knee once again, shivering. Surely, he would develop hypothermia at this rate.

    ¡°Argh, fuck you!¡± Tazaro swore.

    Bartholomew only laughed in response and stooped down to Sheeva¡¯s level.

    ¡°Hey, what are you¨C

    ¨CRelax, you overprotective bastard. I wasn¡¯t going to do anything. I was just going to scour through her memory again¨Cto see if there was something I missed. Maybe, there¡¯s something I can do to help.¡±

    ¡°You-you can go th-through people¡¯s memories?¡± He asked past the fierce shiver and chattering of his teeth. He brought his fingers to his mouth to blow warm air on them.

    ¡°Like reading a diary! Though, your memories are far too sappy for my tastes,¡± He grinned, taking pleasure in disturbing Tazaro with the news. ¡°I¡¯ll sadly be stuck with those for the rest of my unnatural life. Anyway, my bounty hunter¡¯s been through too much to die now.¡±

    Tazaro blinked, surprised and somehow pleased, not expecting such empathy from the being, but when he thought of how Bartholomew referred to her as a ¡°bounty hunter,¡± he realized Bartholomew only had an invested interest in keeping Sheeva alive. He frowned at the logic.

    As he glanced back at Sheeva when a dead-sleep muttering sounded from her, the gears in Tazaro¡¯s head began to turn.

    ¡°You said you were gonna search her memories ¡®again?¡± Tazaro asked for clarification.

    Bartholomew sighed.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I said, isn¡¯t it?¡± He sassed.

    ¡°Well, wait a minute: if you¡¯ve already read her memories, wouldn¡¯t you know how to cast her healing spell?¡± Tazaro asked. Bartholomew arched a curious eyebrow.

    ¡°Hmph. You assume I know everything.¡±

    ¡°Not everything¨Cyou must know a lot, though.¡±

    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like to know...Love?¡±

    Tazaro¡¯s eyes hardened and the scowl formed on his face in an instant.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you ever call me that again, you son-of-a-skulka!¡± Tazaro threatened. He cringed as the pet name grated his eardrums. He shuddered, shook his head, then picked at his ear and forced a deep, calming breath.

    Tazaro thought for a moment, wondering how to elicit the information he needed. Though he had only cast one spell, maybe Bartholomew could teach him and he could cast Sheeva¡¯s healing spell¨Cif Bartholomew really had searched her memories. He put on his best poker face and began to play a game.

    ¡°So you know about Kirin. Do you...know my sister¡¯s name and how she died?¡±

    ¡°Amara Chorea. Wellington¡¯s Flu. You almost died, too. Nothing like hallucinations of Death at the foot of your bed while shivering from chills and sweating from fever. Didn''t enjoy feeling that after eighteen years of cold, hard crystal." Bartholomew shrugged, seeming uncomfortable.

    Tazaro looked over his shoulder, noting the curious suggestion that the ta¡¯hal could feel things through people''s memory.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s, uh...disturbing," He summed, unnerved at the reminder of being bedridden from illness. He could barely recall his mother telling him about pointing at the foot of the bed when he was high off his ass on flu medicine. "I¡¯d forgotten about that, and with good reason, thanks."

    Tazaro shook his head at himself, eager to get back on track.

    "Alright...What food did Sheeva and I share in the workshop a couple weeks ago?¡± He questioned.

    ¡°Of all the things you can ask, and you ask that? I have tons of history at my beck-and-call, and you ask that?¡±

    Tazaro gave him an insistent look.

    ¡°Fine, it was a stupid cheese roll,¡± Bartholomew answered, though pausing as his jowls began to water and his stomach began to churn. How much he couldn¡¯t wait to devour some food!

    ¡­If he¡¯d be able to at all.

    ¡°Damn, that was tasty. Both of you really liked it. So did I. She likes making those. Kneading the dough. Gives her something to punch other than people.¡± He answered, slightly contemplating possessing one of them at some point just to relive the experience of eating. Of course, that would mean temporarily imprisoning himself, something he wasn¡¯t keen on doing anytime soon.

    Tazaro arched an eyebrow, secretly amazed that the sense of taste would follow with the reading of someone¡¯s memories. He briefly wondered what other senses followed, then shook his head, trying to stay on task.

    "Alright¡­when¡¯s each of our birthdays?¡±

    ¡°Hers? 8th of Fanevir, 1308,¡± He replied, a little more quickly than Tazaro expected and with such certainty, he took it to be an honest answer. Sheeva¡¯s true age was a bonus, as was the real birthdate.

    ¡°Yours?¡± Bartholomew paused, and Tazaro could tell the Ta¡¯hal had to think about it. ¡°11th of Thulus, 1307,¡± He answered.

    Tazaro arched an eyebrow; the difference in response time was suspicious.

    Still, the real game began.

    ¡°Favorite color?¡±

    ¡°Yellow.¡±

    ¡°Prized possessions?¡±

    ¡°A ridiculous pocket watch and a silly painting.¡±

    ¡°How to cast her healing spell?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a cakewalk. All you gotta do is¨COh. Oh. Argh, ya bastard!¡± He barked. Tazaro turned to face him and watched victoriously with a smug smirk as the ta¡¯hal paced and fumed. ¡°And to think, after digging around in your head, I¡¯d have known to expect¨Chah, I¡¯m impressed! Ya got me!¡± He gave a fanged, toothy grin as he clapped and applauded Tazaro¡¯s efforts.

    Tazaro felt proud of himself: the rapid-fire questioning never ceased to yield withheld information. He¡¯d have to thank Micah for teaching him the interrogation technique when they got back.

    ¡°So, can you cast it on her?¡± He asked. Bartholomew stopped pacing and shook his head.

    ¡°No, I can¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Damnit, Bartholomew, why not?¡± Tazaro snapped.

    ¡°Because I don¡¯t have an en-ti-ty!¡± Bartholomew emphasized dramatically with claws snapping like fingers in Tazaro¡¯s face with each stressed syllable. Tazaro raised his arm to brush the claw out of his face, then stopped himself; it would do nothing but cause full-body chills again.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a phy-si-cal bo-dy. I cannot draw my own pow-er.¡± He stressed even more, motioning with his hands. ¡°Haven¡¯t you gotten that through your head by now?¡± Bartholomew pointed out, annoyed.

    ¡°Fine, can you teach me, then?¡± He asked.

    Bartholomew stared at him for a moment as he sized him up, then scoffed. Sure, the Sferran might have enough energy to spare, but he doubted the man¡¯s ability to control flow.

    ¡°Hah! And what¨Cyou¡¯re gonna try to cast it? You have no experience!¡± He chuckled, impressed with Tazaro¡¯s guts. ¡°If you¡¯re not careful or you don¡¯t know what you¡¯re doing, it¡¯ll sap you of all your strength. You¡¯ll die.¡±

    ¡°Well, can you possess me again and do it?¡±

    ¡°I know you just lost your mother and all that, but do you really want to die that badly?¡± Bartholomew grunted.

    Tazaro¡¯s heart ached and his face flashed in anger, and he stood tall, ready to throw hands as rage coursed through his body.

    ¡°Fuck you! I sure as hell don¡¯t have a death wish!¡± He barked, storming towards the beast. Rather than swinging a fist, he grabbed a branch on the way, then swung, full force. The stick did nothing but fly through, and, frustrated even more, Tazaro raised it above his head and swung it down through the beast¡¯s head.

    Bartholomew simply blinked at Tazaro, unamused, though he ¡°tsked¡± at himself.

    It was a low thing to say, even for him.

    Tazaro stared at the dent in the ground he had made with his strike as he reigned himself in. Taking swings at a ghost would do no good for him, nor would losing his temper.

    ¡°Are you some kind of ghost?¡± Tazaro asked, still trying to wrap his mind around it all.

    Bartholomew frowned.

    ¡°Man, I hope not,¡± He admitted, looking at his claws before scratching at his scalp.

    Tazaro sighed and tossed the stick aside.

    ¡°Look, I can¡¯t think of anything else,¡± Tazaro stated, looking back at Sheeva. She still hadn¡¯t woken, despite all their noise.

    Bartholomew remained silent, unwilling to become caged again. After eighteen long years in a crystal with nothing to do but ruminate on two-thousand year¡¯s worth of Sferran history, sleep, and have losing arguments with himself, he wasn¡¯t interested on spending any more time in another prison, even if it was mobile and fleshy.

    ¡°Fine, if you¡¯re not gonna do anything, then; you leave me no choice. Suppose I try it anyway, die, and you can figure out whether or not you turn to stone!¡± Tazaro called over his shoulder as he walked back over to Sheeva, determined and rolling up his sleeves.

    The few times I¡¯ve seen her cast a healing spell, it had something to do with a leaf, right?

    Bartholomew, more frightful of being turned to stone and imprisoned for eternity, got to his feet and bounded on all fours towards Tazaro, who¡¯d already reached Sheeva.

    ¡°Wait, stop!¡± He roared.

    Tazaro stopped, turned, and saw a flash of light from the ta¡¯hal¡¯s palm and felt a bizarre spin as he stared into it, mesmerized.

    <hr>

    ¡°Jax. Jax, stop it, you fluff.¡± Tazaro mumbled, moving his face away from the humongous battle-dog as it licked at his face. The licking stopped, and as a snort brushed across his face, he opened his eyes.

    A dark, moist, bristled snout inches from his face formed in his vision as he woke, and he jerked upright, giving a startled cry and swatting at whatever creature it was. He watched the white-tail of a stag disappear as it bounded off into the forest, spooked. Tazaro wiped at the grass-ridden drool on his face and scrunched up his nose in distaste as the smell wafted into his nose.

    ¡°Tok za vilg?¡± He muttered. His body ached, and as he pushed himself up, his arms felt weak and weighty. He looked around for Bartholomew, remembering what had happened in the moments before he stared into the strange, white light. The ta¡¯hal was nowhere to be found, and Sheeva was still sleeping in the crane of the tree.

    Tazaro crawled over to her, moving the hair out of her face. Some color had recovered to her face, though she still seemed pallid. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, and he wiped at it with the sleeve of his tattered jacket. He shook her shoulder gently.

    ¡°Sheeva?¡± He asked.

    She came to, blinking, and slowly looked at him as she fought to sit up a little more.

    ¡°Wow, you seem like you¡¯re feeling better. Good, that¡¯s good!¡± He greeted, hopeful.

    Suddenly, her face turned green, and she leaned over and hurled, spewing vomit on the ground. Tazaro held her hair out of the way and rubbed her back as well as he could while she trembled and coughed.

    ¡°At least I have¨Cugh¨Cenergy to puke.¡± She muttered, panting as she lay her head back against the tree. ¡°We have stopped? How long was I asleep?¡±

    She took a sip of water at his behest.

    ¡°Uh...I¡¯m not sure. I-I just woke up, myself.¡±

    Bartholomew walked through a tree and stopped behind them, a scowl on his face.

    ¡°This imbecile decided to try to heal you.¡± He explained. Sheeva looked at Tazaro for confirmation.

    ¡°Truly?¡±

    Tazaro nodded.

    ¡°Thank you¡­¡± She muttered. He had a feeling that a ¡°but¡± was following by the sound of it, and Tazaro prepared himself for scolding. ¡°But you should be careful. It is too risky; you¡¯ve yet to learn to control things.¡± She blinked as something did not add up. "I have not shown you that spell."

    ¡°Bartholomew was really the one to do it.¡± Tazaro defended, tilting his head toward the ta¡¯hal behind him.

    Sheeva looked at him gratefully and whispered her humble thanks.

    ¡°Pah! With how little power I was able to draw, it seems like it didn¡¯t do much. Just made you puke. Maybe you¡¯re allergic to him or something.¡± Bartholomew deflected, waving the matter off with a hand.

    He turned his back on them and floated out to the ledge of the grassy knoll they were resting at to stare at something across the way, his claws clasped behind his back. As he grumbled to himself about something, his wings shuffled in indecision and his tail flicked. They watched him take a deep breath and sigh, wings and tail settling with the action.

    ¡°Do you believe me now? I¡¯m not your enemy. Stop being idiots.¡± He insisted.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Tazaro agreed, not about to counter the fact that he¡¯d called them both ¡°idiots.¡± ¡°Will you at least tell us what you have against Zakaraia?¡± Tazaro asked. Bartholomew turned and scowled over his shoulder, the corner of his lips curled in a snarl. The snarl faded, and he turned back around.

    ¡°I told you. Zakaraia¡¯s a traitor. Betrayed me. Betrayed my friend. Cost him his life.¡±

    The setting sun shone through Bartholomew, casting a greenish hue over them as the golden rays mixed with his transparent blue. Sheeva found it interesting that, as the wind swept across the grass, it did not wisp through his hair like it would hers or Tazaro¡¯s.

    ¡°Was that friend my father, by chance?¡± Sheeva asked.

    ¡°Your father got a name?¡± Bartholomew asked, turning his head to look at her, teal eyes piercing with a brightened glow caused by the sunlight that streamed through his head.

    Sheeva closed her mouth, then dropped her gaze to her feet.

    ¡°I¡­don¡¯t know his name. My birth mother never talked about him, only to tell me that he was a Ta¡¯hal¡­and to tell me the same,¡± She admitted. ¡°Zakaraia said that he was the one to kill him.¡±

    ¡°Zakaraia¡¯s killed thousands of people. Besides, just because I¡¯m a Ta¡¯hal, I know every Ta¡¯hal?¡± Bartholomew scoffed, crossing his arms. ¡°How indecent of an assumption you make!¡±

    ¡°I¨C¡± She began, then silenced. ¡°My apologies.¡±

    Tazaro studied Bartholomew for a moment, a nagging feeling that something was left unsaid as the creature¡¯s tail began to flick.

    ¡°So, what was your friend¡¯s name?¡± Tazaro asked.

    Bartholomew thought for a moment, then laughed.

    ¡°Belias, the Alchemist.¡± He answered with a mighty, booming voice as he dramatically raised his hands to the sky. ¡°Ah, he thought he was hilarious, coming up with that moniker!¡±

    Sheeva tried to recall if she had ever heard the name before, but it was unfamiliar.

    ¡°Would you help us track Zakaraia down?¡± Sheeva asked. ¡°Or will you just disappear?¡±

    Bartholomew craned his head to look over his shoulder at her, frowning. He scowled, his irises piercing amid his pupils.

    ¡°What, disappear and miss out on the wonderful opportunity to put that fucker in his rightful place? Hah! I¡¯d be a fool to waste that chance!¡± He scoffed, scratching at his shoulder. They watched him float away through the trees. In the distance, Tazaro could see the top of the golden clock tower, and he felt a mass of relief swoop through him at the realization that they did not have much farther to travel. He turned back to Sheeva, wondering if she could press on a little further.

    To his amazement, she had already gotten to her feet, albeit stubbornly so.

    ¡°Wow, that healing spell must have worked better than I thought!¡± He cheered, pleased. Sheeva chuckled in pity at him and shook her head.

    ¡°We shall see. In all honesty, I am only managing this because I have to pee.¡± She announced, using the trunk as a support as she stepped around it and hid from Tazaro¡¯s view.

    ¡°Oh. Uh, sorry.¡± Tazaro mumbled, turning his back on the situation. He stepped toward the ledge they were standing on to purvey the view while he waited. When Sheeva shakily stood next to Tazaro with the aid of a stick, Tazaro broke out of his thoughts and offered help in sitting her down.

    ¡°We should hurry to Roussell. We shall find a place to lay low and hide while I recover and figure out our next steps from there.¡±

    Thankful that she was adamant, Tazaro opened his mouth to protest.

    ¡°We need to get you to a hospital.¡± He pointed out. Sheeva shook her head.

    ¡°No. No one else would understand.¡± She argued.

    Tazaro crossed his arms and shook his head. He decided he would get them to Roussell first, and then they could argue.

    ¡°Well...at any rate, we should keep going. Come on.¡± He offered to carry her once again, and she frowned.

    ¡°Must you really¨C

    ¨Cdo we have a choice? Come on.¡± He interrupted, surprising himself with his sternness. Sheeva pursed her lips and sighed heavily.

    ¡°No. I suppose not.¡± She pouted. Tazaro shot her what he hoped was an encouraging grin.

    ¡°You can kick my ass for it later when you¡¯re healed, though I pray that you don''t.¡±

    Sheeva grumbled to herself as she allowed him to scoop her up, gasping as she felt her feet lifted off the ground. She didn''t wrap her arm around Tazaro''s shoulder this time, drowning in self-pity and embarrassment. She allowed herself to sleep more, intending to get as much rest as possible.

 Chapter 14: Healing Rain

    In the time it took them to reach the outskirts of the forest, Sheeva had begun to look even worse. Her face grew even more pale and clammy, despite Tazaro¡¯s efforts to keep her hydrated, and of all the random things she packed in her bag, antibacterials did not seem to be one of them.

    Tazaro had managed to wrap the emergency blanket around Sheeva in a way that it bunched around her back, covering the bump the arch of her wing made. He hoped that the end feathers were not peeking out from underneath it. It was hard to tell; he could not turn his head to see when her head blocked his view while it rested on his shoulder. Hopefully, it was dark enough that no one would notice once they made it into the city.

    Rather than risk trouble with the guards at the gate, Tazaro detoured from the main road leading towards the edge of Roussell¡¯s crater and to the shortcut over the mountains that would take one towards Whiteshore Inlet; a seaside town in the south-western corner of Vivroa. Instead, he made his way towards the old well at the edge of the western cornfield, then turned towards the western wall. Weaving between tightly-grown corn stalks, he kept his movements as slow as possible to avoid shaking them and making too much noise. Kursu eclipsing nearly three-fourths of Celeste bolstered his hope that it was dark enough that anyone on the watchtowers wasn¡¯t paying too much attention.

    Of course, they were likely far enough away that any guards looking their way would hardly be able to discern what they were looking at. Even with a spyglass, with Sheeva riding piggyback and the blanket wrapped around the both of them, anyone would probably mistake them for a small bearog standing on hind legs.

    ¡°Where are you going?¡± Sheeva asked weakly, voice light and mouth dry as cotton. ¡°Why not¡­through the gate?¡±

    ¡°I used to sneak in and out of the city with my friends as teenagers. I¡¯m hoping the passageway is still here. It''s part of the castle''s old secret pathways out of the city,¡± He explained, relieved to see that the scarecrow they had moved to block the line of sight from the farmer¡¯s house down the way to the well was still there. Maybe, in the eight-or-so-years it had been since they¡¯d first moved the unsightly thing, the farmers that owned and worked the land never noticed.

    She chuckled, then choked from her dry throat.

    ¡°And you call me the troublemaker,¡± She mumbled.

    He didn¡¯t feel like responding to that.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± He sighed. ¡°After what happened the night we left, I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if we¡¯ve been labeled as fugitives, somehow.¡±

    ¡°Oh. I see.¡± She hummed.

    ¡°You should try to get some rest; save your energy,¡± He suggested in lieu of telling her to ¡°stop talking; talking makes you die.¡±

    Sheeva took his word, and all too easily, her head flopped onto his shoulder, too exhausted to really want to hold it up any longer.

    He kept a careful eye on the dimly-lit guards in the watchtower and, though he¡¯d done it frequently in his youth, Tazaro couldn¡¯t recall sneaking around in the fields as being so high-stress as it currently was with his heart pounding in his chest or stilling in place every time someone turned to look at the horizon. As he watched a guard closely, they seemed to be paying more attention to the skies instead, and his worries somewhat subsided.

    Of course, this was before he had a ¡°record,¡± and even then, he wasn¡¯t currently trying to smuggle someone into the city who might also be a wanted target. He tried not to think about what had happened to the likely stumped guards after he and Sheeva¡¯s high-dive off the clock tower, and pressed on.

    As he neared the well, he paused, realizing a major flaw in the plan. Even though there were grooves for footholds so that escapees could climb out of the well, with Sheeva barely able to walk, there would be no chance in hell that she could make her way down the stone ladder. And, with her broken arm, there wasn¡¯t much of a chance she could simply hold onto him while he climbed them both down towards the grate halfway down the well. Not to mention, the damn things could be slippery, and send them both to their watery graves.

    Ah, shit, he thought as they approached the well. Hopefully, the bucket is still there, he hoped. Maybe Sheeva could push through long enough for him to lower her toward the halfway point.

    Hesitant, he paused at the edge of the large stone well and peered down into the abyss, slowly realizing that perhaps this was where his morbid fear of heights stemmed from¨Cwho knew how deep the endless pit was, other than those who¡¯d made it?

    He looked up in curiosity at the gates, wondering if they could possibly sweet-talk their way in.

    ¡°Mno, Micah¡¯s more the smooth-talker,¡± He audibly dismissed the idea.

    Sheeva lifted her head off of Tazaro¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± She asked.

    Tazaro sighed, shuffled her carefully off of his back, and helped her to sit on the edge of the well. Lowering her in the bucket would likely be their only bet.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got two options. Option one: I put you in the bucket, let you down into the well, and you get out and onto the ledge that¡¯s halfway down, or, option two: we take our chance at the gates, and I¡­¡± He paused, looking her over once again, just to be sure he wasn¡¯t thinking too harshly. The wing throwing a wrench in their plans stuck out like a sore thumb. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be able to hide that wing of yours. It¡¯s barely hidden as it is, even with the blanket.¡±

    Sheeva frowned and looked over the side of the well. Summoning a bleak ball of light, she threw it down the hole. They watched it with tired eyes as it fell, fell¡­and fell some more before it eventually fizzled out. Still, Tazaro saw the outline of the bucket and was grateful he at least had half of the means necessary to get them into the city.

    ¡°Ok,¡± Sheeva stated, though sounding uncertain. ¡°If this is the way we must go, then so be it.¡±

    If he were the one being lowered into a well, Tazaro might be more than a little uncertain, too.

    Trying not to waste time lest either of them change their minds, Tazaro reached for the rope to the well and began to pull, raising the bucket. After dumping the water out, he helped Sheeva swing her legs over the edge of the well and stick her feet into the bucket. As she slowly slipped off the ledge, she gave a nervous squeak as the rope spun slightly and swung like an off-kilter pendulum.

    ¡°Oh, son-of-a-bitch, I don¡¯t like this!¡± She groaned.

    His hesitation hit its high point, and he chewed his lip while racking his brain for an alternative.

    ¡°H-hey, if anything goes wrong, I just want to say¨C

    ¨CCan you possibly say it later when I¡¯m not dangling at my death?¡± She snapped.

    Tazaro couldn¡¯t fault her curtness and began slowly releasing the slack. As she lowered into the darkness, the pale face illuminated by dim moonlight slowly faded away.

    ¡°Do you see the ledge?¡± He called after a few yards of slack, the tinny squeak of the pulley grating on his eardrums and making him more nervous by the second.

    ¡°No!¡± She called up.

    Tazaro held back his groan, slowly realizing that the well only seemed as short as it did when they were younger because they rarely used it to get back in. As long as they had their papers, they could come and go through the gates as often as they liked.

    He slowly gave a few more armfuls of slack.

    ¡°How about n¨C

    ¨CYup¡­I see it,¡± She called up, sounding frustrated about something.

    Tazaro squinted, suspicious.

    ¡°Ok. I feel like there¡¯s a ¡®but,¡± He replied, wondering what kind of stop the gods had put to their poorly construed plan. Had the entryway actually been sealed off after ninety-ish years?

    ¡°I can¡¯t reach the ledge!¡± She called up.

    Tazaro sighed, relieved, then began to look around the well in search; generally, most wells had a shepherd¡¯s hook that one could use to bring the water bucket closer.

    ¡°Alright, hold tight, I¡¯m gonna¨CHe stopped, then looked up as the metallic squeak, followed by a creak of wood, sounded out.

    ¡°Sheeva, stop! The rope¡¯s¨C

    Before he could finish his sentence, Sheeva had swung enough that the rope slipped out of the curve of the metal wheel. As the rope still held tightly in his hands tightened, the sudden force jerked him towards the well. He barked out in pain as the stone edge of the well met his sternum. The rope now felt far too slacked for comfort.

    Terrified, he searched the darkness.

    ¡°Sheeva?¡± He managed in a scared whisper. ¡°Sheeva, are you ok?¡± He asked with his heartbeat pounding in his head and stomach clenching in worry as he listened hard for the sound of splashing, disturbed water.

    Halfway down the well, a weak glimmer of light shone, and Tazaro sighed heavily, then gritted his teeth in frustration.

    ¡°You¡¯ve never dealt with a well before, have you?¡± He barked to vent his vexation.

    ¡°Can¡¯t say¡­that I have, why?¡± She called, sounding worn out.

    ¡°Gee, it shows,¡± He grumbled lowly, locating the hook he had managed to spot seconds before Sheeva started swinging. Hastily, he snatched it off the ground and used it to return the rope to the wheel of the pulley, then sighed the rest of his frustration away, trying to psyche himself up for the rest of the task.

    Getting himself to step over the edge of the well and climb down the way was a different story.

    However, realizing that he had already been much, much higher off the ground than the depth of the well in the last three days, Tazaro worked it into a strange boost of confidence. He grabbed the rope, cut the bucket loose, and tied a makeshift harness around his waist and between his legs, as they had taught those to do as they walked around the roof of Hyles¡¯s church to survey the structure''s integrity.

    With one foot in front of the other, he climbed down, hopped off the ladder and onto the ledge, then squirmed out of the harness.

    Sheeva had apparently given herself a moment of much-needed rest, though still shivered and sucked in a breath as he stooped at her side and shook her.

    ¡°Are you ok?¡± He asked, squinting at her in the dim light streaming down as the moonlight beamed overhead. Slowly, she nodded, then took his hand as he offered to pull her to her feet. He didn¡¯t hesitate, nor did she¨Cas much¨Cto stoop and allow her to climb onto his back.

    He broke into an awkward, shuffling run, fully worn-out, though confident of the path they were taking, assisted into seeing where he was going by the help of a dim orb of light that flickered behind their heads. The catacomb was musty and earthy, and his boots clicked as his panting echoed on the empty walls.

    Eventually, they came upon the five-way split, and as Tazaro peeked at the fading cornerstones, the pale-blue and pale-yellow tiles had him contemplating which path would be quicker¨Cthe path that would lead them to the Eastern Quarters, or the path that would lead him towards Southgate.

    Figuring that most people would be asleep in the Eastern Quarters at this time of night and that they would be less likely to be spotted, Tazaro headed down the pathway noted by the pale-blue block. When he saw the ladder at the edge of the corridor, hope gave him a boost of strength.

    ¡°We made it. Just a little bit longer, now. We¡¯ll get you some help soon,¡± He called over his shoulder.

    ¡°No hospitals. No doctors. They would not understand.¡± She warned. Tazaro shook his head and stepped up to the ladder.

    ¡°Mno, I was wasn¡¯t gonna. I¡¯m gonna try to get to my apartment. Maybe, we can hide there.¡± He explained, attempting to tie the blanket around himself as a supporting tether for Sheeva. ¡°Hold on to me as best you can. I¡¯m going to try to climb up.¡±

    Sheeva mumbled something against his shoulder but tightened her hold on him anyway. It wasn¡¯t much better, but he hoped it would do.

    ¡°What about Vincent?¡±

    Tazaro grunted as he pushed, then pounded on, the wooden cover for the passageway. It popped up and out of the grooves in the floor, tucked away beneath an overgrown hedge that had once been kept neatly trimmed into an even, spiraling topiary. As he brushed the debris that fell on his face off, he sputtered at the flakes of leaves and dirt, then snorted as he pushed on, fully aware of the weakness of his legs as they trembled from exertion.

    He crudely shuffled the board back in place, then popped out from beneath the rampant foliage. Sheeva attempted to blow a leaf out from his hair, but with no strength, it did nothing.

    ¡°Save your energy, Sheeva. You need it,¡± He stressed, powering on.

    The gardens of the abandoned castle stretched around the perimeter of the castle grounds, and as he poked his head out to survey the plaza, found it to be empty. He shuffled Sheeva higher up his back, then ran, beelining for the nearest sidestreet. He hurried towards the street his apartment was on, stopped in the alleyway facing it then peeked out into the street. It was just as desolate as the plaza had been, and no one¡¯s lights were on in the buildings.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Sheeva called, tapping him on the shoulder. ¡°What about Vincent?¡± She asked.

    Tazaro paused briefly.

    ¡°He''s¡­¡±

    He can help, right? He thought, then scoffed at himself. Pfft¨Cof course he can. He has to; he swore an oath. He¡¯s got no choice!

    ¡°He¡¯s a doctor; he can help, and if need be, I¡¯ll make him keep his mouth shut.¡± He threatened.

    With that, Tazaro scampered across the street, then hurried up the steps. The blanket dangled, no longer covering the wing. He shuffled in his pockets for his keys, jammed them in the lock, then twisted and pushed the door open to hustle inside.

    He had just finished fastening the deadbolt before a voice sounded out in the darkness, causing him to blurt out a noise of surprise.

    ¡°Tazaro, is that you?¡± Vincent called out, flicking on the gas lamp in the living room. He watched Tazaro spin around, dirty and frightened, with Sheeva riding piggy-back. Vincent stood, relieved, and hurried to assist.

    Spooked, Sheeva formed some signs, hissed something, and outstretched her hand, where a weak cloud of mist, like condensation on a cold morning, spewed towards Vincent¡¯s face. Vincent stumbled backward a few steps, surprised.

    ¡°What was that?¡± He asked, pawing at his face, which was now wet and cold.

    Sheeva fainted, becoming deadweight against Tazaro¡¯s back. He leaned forward as well as he could to keep her from falling backward and to the ground. Vincent shuddered and blurted a noise shortly after, looking around.

    ¡°What-what the hell was that?¡± He asked again.

    Tazaro didn¡¯t answer and tried to shuffle further inside the house.

    ¡°Look, can you just help me?¡± Tazaro asked. Vincent gaped at them, and when he saw blood on Tazaro¡¯s clothes, he sprung to action and reached forward to take her from him. As he felt feathers, he stopped and looked.

    ¡°W-what is this?¡± He asked. Tazaro shook his head and finished transferring her to him, then grabbed his room key out of his pocket, leading the way to his door.

    ¡°She¡¯s¨Cshe¡¯s so¨Cshe¡¯s not heavy at all!¡± Vincent blurted, pointing out the third strange anomaly learned in the last few minutes.

    Tazaro didn¡¯t acknowledge and instead finished unlocking the door. He threw it open, then hurried to the closet to grab an extra pillow to prop her up with.

    ¡°What happened?¡± He asked, pulling himself to action as he noticed the dark, cherry-red dried blood on both of their dirty clothing.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get her taken care of first. I¡¯ll explain everything I can then, I promise.¡± He said, taking Sheeva back from Vincent¡¯s confused hands. Tazaro set her in the bed and adjusted the pillows to rest behind her head.

    Vincent hurried to his room to return with a stethoscope and a first-aid kit.

    ¡°Are you hurt, too, Tazaro?¡± Vincent asked, worried about the way Tazaro collapsed heavily in the chair. With a determined shake of his head and wave of his hand, Tazaro denied it.

    ¡°No, no, just her,¡± He panted, finally feeling the overwhelmed state of his body as sweat dripped down his neck and his legs felt like lead. ¡°She tried to stop him while we got away,¡± He added. Vincent didn¡¯t know what Tazaro was talking about, but figured he was about to learn one way or another.

    He shuffled the stethoscope into his ears and stooped, pressing the cup to her chest. Her heartbeat was as slow as a sleeping person¡¯s but strong¨Ca good sign, all things considered, and he confidently dismissed the worry that she would slip into cardiac arrest. Her breaths were even, and though she had fainted, Vincent had little reason to believe she would be at risk of apnea. To ensure she hadn¡¯t suffered a head injury, he pulled open her eye to look into one.

    Sure enough, they were red, but as they dilated and contracted as normal in response to light, she hadn¡¯t suffered a concussion¨Cat least, as well as he could tell from that. There were other, more important matters to attend to, and until she was conscious and he could gather more intel, further questions could wait.

    ¡°Alright,¡± He announced, sitting back as he initially surveyed the rest of her body. Two serious wounds stuck out to him, one wrapped in bandages, though with a blood spot, and the other, unwrapped, though given the location, perhaps it had been missed, if Tazaro had not been too embarrassed to tend to it.

    ¡°Tazaro, I need you to grab a clean towel, cut it up, and bring me some containers of warm water,¡± Vincent ordered, rolling up his sleeves. He reached for a pair of thin, bladder-skin gloves and slipped them on, then paused as he realized Tazaro hadn¡¯t moved. ¡°Tazaro, now!¡± He urged.

    Tazaro jumped and rushed out of the room to gather the things.

    Vincent had just laid out his stitching equipment and filled a syringe of diazepam in case Sheeva woke mid-fix and gave him trouble when Tazaro returned with the requested items, set the bucket on the desk, and began shearing at the towel with scissors.

    Vincent carefully cut the bandages around the wound on Sheeva¡¯s leg and slowly peeled it back. It would certainly need stitching.

    Before assessing the wound on her chest, Vincent paused, then looked behind himself.

    Tazaro wasn¡¯t paying attention, still cutting the towel into bits.

    ¡°Tazaro, you should leave.¡± Vincent announced. Tazaro paused, mid-cut of the towel, and by the scared look on his face, trying to figure out whether or not he¡¯d done something wrong.

    ¡°I need to tend to her wounds, and her clothes are in the way of this one on her chest.¡± With a deliberate tip of his head towards the door, Vincent announced a silent invitation for Tazaro to leave.

    ¡°O-oh. Right,¡± Tazaro obliged as he left and shut the door.

    Vincent unwrapped the twine and bandages around her chest and cut away her tattered, bloodstained clothing. He had just peeled away the layer of her shirt when she began to stir, and he hoped she wouldn¡¯t hold it against him, considering he was simply trying to do his job.

    ¡°Welcome back,¡± He murmured, fully into work-mode as the greeting was warm, but automatic.

    ¡°I-Ivan?¡± She asked. ¡°Are¡­Is it really you?¡±

    After understanding she was mistaking him for someone else, Vincent shook his head.

    ¡°Vincent,¡± He corrected, caring less about semantics and more about treating what looked to be some deep, painful wounds.

    ¡°Sheeva, take a deep breath, and try to relax. You¡¯re safe now, and we¡¯ll get you warmed up as soon as I¡¯m done. You¡¯re injured, but I¡¯m gonna do my best to help, ok?¡± Vincent assured, trying to instill a sense of ¡°warm and fuzzy¡± to keep her calm. He turned, and grabbed a towel, then dipped it into the warm water Tazaro had brought. It was a little hotter than he needed, so he waited a second before pressing it to Sheeva¡¯s skin.

    Sheeva did as Ivan suggested, and lay back against the mountain of pillows, registering his fingers as they examined and wiped down her mostly naked body. To avoid awkwardness, she avoided looking at him, and instead, fixed her stare on the bedposts at the foot of the bed. She winced and hissed as he prodded the bruise on her right side from Llyud¡¯s claw. Her uninjured arm¡¯s hand clutched at the sheets beneath her, and as she felt a pool of liquid, she realized that her thigh had started to bleed lightly again.

    At least she hadn¡¯t thought she¡¯d wet herself this time.

    Vincent swallowed hard, trying to gauge which wound would be the most pressing. Aside from the gash on her thigh and chest, there were many cuts, some short and superficial knicks, others long and slightly deeper gashes. He was grateful that they had started to congeal and clot; otherwise, she could have easily bled out. The damage done was something he had never seen before, and it shook him.

    What is this, ¡°death by one-thousand cuts?¡±

    In addition to the multitude of cuts, a handprint coiled around her neck, wide bruises wrapped around her ribcage, and a swollen spot sat just above her hip. Upon uncovering the bandage around her arm that held the sigils, he shuddered as he imagined what might have happened to cause these, and he hoped the morbid fright didn¡¯t show on his face. When he realized the disturbingly artistic designs of flowers, Vincent wondered if someone had just sat there with a knife and tortured her but kept the horrible curiosity to himself. It would be something to discuss later if need be.

    His primary examination over, Vincent struggled to place himself beyond his growing anger, and worked fast to tend to her, skillfully threading a needle with medical-grade material.

    ¡°Here, bite,¡± He ordered, offering her a clean rag. Sheeva frowned and stuffed the fabric in her mouth.

    Unable to see what he was doing, she stilled as Vincent¡¯s fingers touched the gash on her thigh.

    ¡°Sorry.¡± He murmured, noticing her wave off the incident through the corner of his eye as he pressed around the skin to see the wound that had been crudely bandaged. It was a gnarly gash that had begun to fester and grow pus.

    ¡°It¡¯s infected.¡± He explained, turning to the bowl of hot water. He dipped a clean rag in the water and wrung it out, then wiped away at the dried blood. Once clean, Vincent scowled as he noticed how precise the cut was, as though done by a surgeon. Whoever the person was, they were skilled. Experienced. It solidified the idea that she was subjected to actual torture, and his jaw clenched tight with rage.

    ¡°Who the fuck¡­¡± Vincent grunted through his teeth. Not wanting to let his emotions cloud his work, he forced a deep breath and hissed it out in a calming ¡°pshoo,¡± then plucked his tweezers from the kit and returned to the gash to search for debris.

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    As he began to clean the wound itself, Sheeva gritted her teeth and groaned in pain, panting sweatily behind the rag still stuffed in her mouth. Desperate for a full breath of fresh, clean air, she took the thing out and drew in a satisfying breath, only to lose it to a whimper of pain.

    ¡°Almost done, Sheeva. Last bit¡¯s going to be tough. Gonna have to squeeze out the pus. Brace yourself.¡± He stated, prodding the area around it to feel where he needed to start from. Thankfully, it was small; the infection probably did not have time to spread far.

    ¡°Do it. Whatever you have to do, Ivan, just do it.¡± Sheeva ordered before biting back down on the cloth. He stared at her, amazed by her adamance.

    Sheeva scowled and told herself this pain would be nothing compared to the beating she¡¯d received from Zakaraia. It would not instill itself as profoundly as his laughter or taunting, demeaning words had as he simply kicked her ass across the cobblestone courtyard.

    Sheeva huffed and exhaled as much as her lungs would allow, giving him a curt nod, ready. He pressed around the wound and, bracing himself for the oozing mess that was about to follow, squeezed hard.

    She breathed in sharply, then screamed in pain, trying her best to hold still. He used the moment that her brain was in overdrive to get as much of the gooey pus out as he could, ignoring the outbursts of muffled swear words and sobs of pain.

    He grabbed the rag and wiped away the mess, reached for the needle and thread, and began to stitch the wound closed, trying to work accurately but fast.

    Unable to take in a breath of air fast enough, her muddled brain quickly grew sluggish, aiding in her senses¡¯ shut down. Her eyes closed, and she attempted to focus on how attentively the doctor worked, warm fingers now assisting the invasion of the needle and the trailing of thread through her skin. The unfamiliar pressure and distressing tug of the thin silk made her shudder as it rippled through her thigh and into her foot, but she dared not move for fear of screwing up his method somehow.

    Her pain-drunk brain tethered to the rhythmic mechanics of his suture, and she swam in a brief moment of overwhelmed lax.

    Up, cross over; up, cross over. As she put faith in his capabilities, a wave of assured peace washed over her, allowing her to sigh and sink into the bed.

    The serenity was short-lived as the numbed sting and the joining of flesh as he pulled the wound together made her tremble and pulled her body out of the mattress. Beyond fast, panicked breaths, Sheeva felt the sour of her mouth and willed away the churn of her stomach, wanting to wait until he was done with the suture. As she registered him applying a poultice and gauze, she pulled the fabric out of her mouth, a line of drool draping on her chin as she set the soaked rag on her stomach. Her lungs filled with fresh air, and she slurred.

    ¡°Throw up,¡± She managed. He looked up and grabbed a large soup pot that one of them must have brought in while she was unconscious. His hands tenderly snaked across her back as he guided her into sitting up and held her hair back as the streams of watered-down lime-green bile spewed from her mouth.

    ¡°At least there¡¯s no red or black. That¡¯s a good sign. I¡¯ll make you some food when I¡¯m done patching you up. I¡¯ve got to stitch the one on your chest, and that¡¯ll be the last of any suturing.¡± He stated, patting her back lightly. She groaned, spit out goopy, foamy vomit residue, then rested her forehead on the steel edge of the pot. It was cool against her heated forehead.

    She looked up at him as she lay back again, vision swimming. As she focused on the dark, long hair and spectacles, a gleam of teal eyes stared back at another wound on her body as fast hands fixed another gauze to it, sticking it in place with medical tape. Calmed, Sheeva let her head flop back on the mountain of pillows with a relieved sigh as her body relaxed, and she chuckled at herself.

    ¡°Ivan, thank you for taking care of me.¡± She whispered. ¡°I¡¯m in good hands, now.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s Vin¨Cum¡­you¡¯re welcome,¡± He murmured.

    Whoever the doctor was, it was apparently someone she could easily mistake him for, and to try to correct her would only be a waste of time. Besides, if the confusion kept her calm and assured, he supposed it would help his situation more than if she were being treated by a complete stranger.

    Soft, pliable pads of fingers held a hot, wet rag as it wiped away the dried blood from her chest, and Sheeva drew in a sharp breath from her nose as she floated in her pain-ridden stupidity, though the pain was no longer a frightening, unsure thing.

    Ivan was efficient and trustworthy; never had he steered her wrong. The most ¡°harm¡± he would do when done would be to offer words of warning or scold her for ¡°recklessness,¡± and, considering how much she had ¡°wrecked herself¡± this time, she would be in for an earful when the morning came.

    When he apologized for his light, medical touch of her breast as he continued to clean away blood, dust, and dirt, she went to shake her head, freezing as a twinge of pain shot up into her neck from her shoulder. She forgot that her wing was bound in a splint.

    ¡°It¡¯s alright, Ivan. It¡¯s necessary. I, I¡¯m safe.¡±

    She hissed again, and her eyes squeezed so tightly that she saw specks of white as he poured a solution on the wound he was working on. Sheeva groaned in pain as she felt the sting through her skin, and as she felt something cold and metallic prod into the wound on her chest, she froze, snapped her eyes open, and grasped his arm to stop him. Vincent stopped, currently holding a pair of tweezers to retrieve a small rock that had embedded itself in the wound on her chest.

    ¡°Sheeva, I need you to let go of my arm, lie back, and keep still. Close your eyes. You, uh, probably don¡¯t want to see this.¡± He ordered.

    She did as he asked, choosing to grasp at the sheet beneath her instead. As the invasive object resumed to pull out something unfamiliar, Sheeva shivered and sucked in a breath.

    ¡°Tell me what you are doing, Ivan.¡± She requested, voice wavering and choked with fear. ¡°Please.¡±

    Reminding himself she seemed to think he was someone else and that he shouldn¡¯t waste time correcting the issue, Vincent cleared his throat. Usually, he would suggest she dive into something pleasant, but she was not the average patient.

    ¡°There¡¯s debris in the wound on your chest. I have to clean it out before I can suture it closed.¡± He explained, turning to drop a small chunk of rock into a nearby rag he was using to collect stuff in.

    Sheeva relaxed...some. She listened to the chitter of the ragora they kept at the bedside tables for patients to interact with, and as she heard the squeak of the wheels on his chair, she smiled softly to herself.

    ¡°You must be too tired to do magic. My apologies for bothering you at this hour,¡± She said through pained breaths.

    ¡°Dr. Marx?¡± She called, glancing at him. Teal eyes behind half-moon spectacles didn¡¯t look back at her, too busy clearing away the stuff in her wound. She followed the bloodied object pinched in tweezers as he turned and dropped it into a rag.

    ¡°Ivan?¡± She called out to him.

    Going with the delirium, Vincent gave a nervous ¡°yes?¡±

    Sheeva huffed, and her eyes squeezed closed again in pain as he returned the tweezers to the gash on her chest. His voice was an octave deeper than she remembered. Perhaps it had matured in her absence; maybe she simply forgot its timbre after five years of traveling in search of Llyud.

    ¡°The man that brought me here, Tazaro: is he alright?¡±

    Vincent paused briefly. He hadn¡¯t yet done an examination, but he trusted Tazaro¡¯s word that he was fine.

    ¡°I believe so. I¡¯ll check him when I¡¯m done with you. I¡¯m about to stitch this one, so we¡¯re almost clear.¡± Vincent stated, attempting to distance himself. He cleaned the wound gently with another rag, then paused to thread the silky material through the needle.

    ¡°Good. I¡­I owe that man my life,¡± She sighed, and sat back, frowning. ¡°I hope that someday he can forgive me for what I¡¯ve done. It¡¯s¨Cit is my fault we are in¨C

    She winced and hissed from a twinge of pain as he set to stitch the wound.

    ¡°Whatever it is that you are faulting yourself for, I¡¯m sure it¡¯s not, but you can talk about it with him. Besides, you¨CVincent began firmly, then softened as she seemed to stare at him in surprise. He sighed, and continued. ¡°You fought for them, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°It was a losing battle, but I fought anyway. I had to,¡± She answered, face turning red with embarrassment. ¡°They¡¯ve been¨Cthey were so¡­¡± She babbled as she struggled to find words. ¡°They were good to me, and if any harm were to come to them, it would be over my dead body,¡± She finished with a wry chuckle.

    ¡°Literally, it almost seems,¡± Vincent huffed, applying a poultice and gauze to the spot before securing it in place with tape.

    ¡°I wish-I wish it had been¡­I failed them. It wasn¡¯t enough, Ivan!¡± She began to sob, strained whimpers of pain sounding amid sniffles and hushed cries.

    What would have been enough? Death?

    He clenched his tongue between his teeth to hold back his reprimand.

    Vincent did his best to soothe her, feeling awkward in comforting an almost stranger when he didn¡¯t know the full extent of the story behind her courageous charge. He settled with wiping away the pain sweats from her forehead while she settled.

    ¡°Ivan, you have always treated me with kindness, and it made me so¡­happy. Happy, that I could come to you without judgement, without fear. You challenged me to face up, and push myself, and¡­¡± She trailed off, then chuckled at something. ¡°I liked that.¡±

    ¡°But¡­you were only doing your job.¡± She paused again, then laughed derisively at something. ¡°Still, thank you, Ivan.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­¡± Vincent murmured, feeling odd and unsure how to play this one off.

    ¡°I am not afraid. Should I die, I know you¡¯ll have done everything you can.¡± She muttered softly, a look of peace careening over her face.

    Vincent blinked, alarmed, studying her expression for faintness or sluggishness.

    ¡°Sheeva, you¡¯re not gonna¨CHe began harshly, then reigned himself in and softened.

    ¡°You¡¯re not gonna die.¡± He assured.

    Diving back to business, Vincent checked the splint Tazaro had applied around her arm. He had to admit, it was decently done, considering Tazaro had only had about a week¡¯s worth of practice years ago. A purple bruise originated on the radius bone, and Vincent squinted his eyes at it in anger. It was something he¡¯d seen far too often and wished he didn¡¯t.

    ¡°How did the broken arm happen?¡± Vincent questioned. Perhaps she¡¯d actually taken a bad fall compared to the lie so often told by nervous, battered house-wives or children.

    ¡°He twisted it. My wing, too.¡± She answered. He nodded and sighed with disappointment. That had been his guess, considering the rough bruise of a handprint wrapped around her wrist. He reapplied the splint in better manner, then helped her to lean forward as he examined her wing. Sure enough, it was attached to her body, much like a bird¡¯s would be. He wondered if there were joints and connective tissues. Using his fingers to feel it, he was amazed to find three bones in a series along the inside of the wing.

    He sat back, amazed, dozens of questions firing rapidly in his brain.

    Had the wing been surgically added? Was she born with it? Was it a curse by the gods?

    Vincent stared off into space for a moment as he tried to wrap his brain around the existence of the sixth appendage.

    Sheeva fell embarrassedly mute and stared at the ragora on the bedside table. The realization that she was still bare to him prodded at her demure, and she felt her face redden as she struggled to cover herself, futile as it was after the fact.

    ¡°Ivan, are you done?¡± Sheeva managed in a light whisper, still struggling to drape her sling-ridden arm over her chest.

    Vincent blinked and looked up, then realized her state.

    ¡°O-oh. Yes. Here,¡± While fighting back a sheepish laugh, he grabbed Tazaro¡¯s sheet to gently cover her with, carefully lifting the slung arm to tuck the sheet beneath her arm, not forgetting the thing still needed to be looked at.

    To distract her, he put her arm back in its sling and held up a finger, signaling for her to wait. Hoping Tazaro would not mind, Vincent grabbed a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. Getting the shorts on was easy enough, but as he looked at her torso, he wondered how to cover her chest, wanting to help her maintain a shred of decency around Tazaro.

    If she did not have the bound wing, it would be as simple as slipping the shirt on over the sling and putting her other arm through the sleeve. Vincent looked at the t-shirt in his hand and clicked his tongue as he thought of cutting the thing. Slipping it on as far as it would go, Vincent guided her uninjured hand through the sleeve. Grabbing the scissors he used to cut away her clothes, he cut into the shoulder of the fabric and finished pulling the shirt down and over. The wing peeked out awkwardly.

    ¡°Is that comfortable?¡± He asked. Sheeva gave a slight nod and settled back.

    Vincent left her to her thoughts, packed up his things, and gathered the bloody rags. As he headed for the door, he heard her softly say, ¡°Thank you, Ivan.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re...you¡¯re welcome.¡± He answered, opening the door.

    Tazaro had sat down in the hallway and had apparently fallen asleep as he became startled awake. He stood and watched Vincent walked out, covered in bloody handprints and sweat, then looked in at Sheeva. She looked like death and had lied back, eyelids closed as she began to sleep.

    ¡°She¡¯ll be good. I think.¡± Vincent muttered.

    ¡°You think?¡± Tazaro asked, not feeling confident about Vincent¡¯s choice of words.

    Vincent coughed to cover his laugh, certain his cheeks were cherry-red with a blush.

    ¡°Physically, she¡¯s good. Mentally, we¡¯ll see. She, uh, thought I was someone else.¡± He answered, not keen on disclosing some of his terrible discoveries or working theories. He looked at his bloody hands, where the ghost of her hand lingered.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to wash up. Keep an eye on her.¡± Vincent ordered, then continued to the bathroom to wash off the blood. He splashed water on his face in an attempt to cool it from its awkward blush as he recalled the delirium Sheeva had just been through.

    Whoever Ivan was, he''d certainly won Sheeva¡¯s favor.

    But, Vincent thought to himself, let''s not go airing that around. Tazaro certainly doesn''t need to know any of her pain-addled confessions.

    Slowly, Tazaro headed in and sat down on the chair again, then grimaced as he recalled the muffled screeching, and as he noticed a spot of blood on his sheets, he sighed and sat back. He would need to buy new ones.

    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay? There¡¯s a lot of blood on your shirt.¡±

    Tazaro looked up and over at Vincent, then down at his tattered shirt.

    ¡°I¡­¡±

    He wasn¡¯t sure where to begin: I have a crystal sealed in my body? I have wings hiding somewhere? I got possessed by a mythical creature?

    As Tazaro stared blankly back at him, Vincent sighed heavily and crossed his arms. It was evident that the both of them had been through something hellacious, and it hadn¡¯t yet sunk in that they were in a safe space.

    ¡°Seriously. Can I at least check and make sure?¡±

    Tazaro began to worry, suddenly self-conscious about whatever changes might have happened to his body with Bartholomew¡¯s possession.

    ¡°C¡¯mon, man. You and Micah pretended to be patients so I could pass my exams. It¡¯s nothing I haven¡¯t already¨C

    ¨COk, fine,¡± Tazaro grumped, standing and stripping off his shirt. He held out his arms and turned around. ¡°Happy now?¡±

    Medically, he wasn¡¯t, but perhaps he¡¯d have to have a more serious conversation later, once all of them had some rest. Either way, Tazaro was back, standing, and apparently alive enough to crack sassy comments.

    Vincent¡¯s brow furrowed as his brain slowly pulled itself out of its medical mindset before the friend mindset took over, and finally allowed himself to ask questions.

    ¡°Tazaro, I¡­¡± Vincent began, feeling suddenly sheepish. ¡°I was beginning to think you were actually dead. You¡¯ve been gone for days. Your old house burned down, and Tyler, Micah, and I thought you all had gotten stuck in the fire. The fire department couldn¡¯t tell; there weren¡¯t any bodies to find.¡± Vincent began, standing in the middle of the room. ¡°I mean, that¡¯s the story we¡¯ve been trying to tell people since it sounded better than some ¡®winged woman kidnapping you.¡¯ None of us could believe it, but after seeing¡­¡±

    He shook his head. Though he had met Sheeva only once, considering that Tazaro had apparently assisted her this much was enough proof that she hadn¡¯t kidnapped him, at least.

    ¡°It¡¯s a really confusing controversy right now,¡± He dismissed, deciding he would set the story straight with Micah at a later time¡­though, how would he even begin to explain? ¡°So, what actually happened? Did she¡­really kidnap you and fly away?¡±

    Tazaro stared at him, blinking sluggishly through fog as he tried to recall. Truth be told, it was a struggle, considering it all seemed a hazy blur.

    ¡°Uhh¡­¡± He drawled, trying to spit words for the flashes rapid-firing in his mind¡¯s eye: diving from the clocktower; a brief moment of daylight amid the clearing for the gods; the sight of his childhood home ablaze; Llyud¡¯s head bursting like a melon.

    ¡°Wait, wait.¡± Vincent blurted. ¡°What about your mom? No one¡¯s seen her since. Where¨CHe paused, then braced himself. ¡°Tazaro, where¡­is she?¡± He asked, trying to will away the terrible gut feeling he had.

    Finally, the full-body dread as he recalled his mother¡¯s violent death made his forehead scrunch into misery as his face heated and vision became blurred with tears.

    ¡°Mom¡¯s¡­Mom¡¯s dead.¡± Tazaro said, and at this, he cried harder, leaning forward and sobbing into his hands.

    Vincent¡¯s mouth popped open with a surprised, empathetic ¡°oh, gods,¡± and he stepped forward and crouched at Tazaro¡¯s side.

    ¡°What? Was it really the fire?¡±

    Tazaro shook his head and grabbed a fistful of hair in his hand as he tried to gather his wits. It didn¡¯t help, and only smeared sweat into his already greasy hair.

    ¡°No, Zakaraia. Zakaraia killed her. Sheeva fought him,¡± He stopped to raise his head and gestured at Sheeva with his hand, opening and closing his mouth as he searched for words. ¡°He did this to her, and then he came after Mom and me.¡± As Tazaro began to tremble, Vincent did his best to pull the shaken man into a hug. Tazaro flinched, shaking so fiercely with fear that Vincent wondered if he would need to drug him instead. ¡°Bastard tied my hands behind my back, snapped her neck. I couldn¡¯t¨C¡± Vincent consoled his friend as well as he could as the heart-wrenching wails sounded in the room.

    ¡°He made me watch, Vince!¡± Tazaro¡¯s voice was small and taut with pain. Vincent¡¯s eyes flared at the information, and he looked down at the broken man as he wept. ¡°He just¨Cwith his hands, he just¨Ctwisted, and she was¨CHe stopped to wail.

    Vincent bit his tongue to hold back the lengthy medical knowledge he had about victims with snapped necks and how they might have been able to survive, but chances were¨Csince the man had likely tortured Sheeva, he knew what he was doing and Mildred¡¯s death would have been instant. He waited out the mourning man¡¯s understandable outburst, wiping at a few tears of his own, pained for Tazaro¡¯s loss.

    And, to witness her death in such a violent, sudden way? I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re even able to function this well.

    ¡°I, I didn¡¯t know what to do, so I fixed Mom¡¯s neck and carried her to where Sheeva was.¡±

    Vincent stilled, then stared in amazement, processing the information and feeling even more sorry for Tazaro. Vincent himself had needed to set plenty of bones in place and was no stranger to the sound the sickening squelch could make. Still, he¡¯d never had to set the bones in place of someone he knew, let alone handle a corpse.

    He broke away to hide his shudder with a cross of his arms and a clear of his throat.

    ¡°Then what?¡± Vincent asked. Tazaro looked up, eyes puffy and red. He wiped at his nose with a spare rag and sighed.

    ¡°Then what?¡± He repeated, thinking. ¡°I patched Sheeva up.¡±

    Vincent looked to Sheeva, thinking back on the rough patch job Tazaro had administered. It wasn¡¯t the work of a novice, but it was still better than nothing. It might have been the turn of tide between life and death.

    ¡°I hope-I hope I didn¡¯t make it worse, or do anything wrong.¡± Tazaro mumbled, concerned. ¡°I tried to do as you taught me. It¡¯s¡­it¡¯s not the same, with so much¡­blood.¡± He finished softly, staring at his hands. They were still caked and dirty.

    Ketchup didn¡¯t even come close to large amounts of real blood.

    Vincent shook his head and intervened, grabbing a clean towel and dipping it into the clean bucket to wet it before trying to wash Tazaro¡¯s hands.

    ¡°No, no, there was nothing wrong!¡± He assured. When Tazaro didn¡¯t look, and didn¡¯t seem to believe him, Vincent paused his cleaning and shook Tazaro gently.

    ¡°Hey, look at me,¡± Vincent called.

    Tazaro stared at him, morosely, but it was enough that he wouldn¡¯t be staring at bloody hands in pointless guilt anymore.

    ¡°You did a good job, Tazaro¨Creally. She, uh¡­¡± He paused, then tsked. As he and Micah had when confronting him about Kirin, there was no point in sugar-coating it. ¡°Well, to be blunt, she might not have lived otherwise,¡± He admitted, grabbing another rag and wetting it. It turned up less pink than the previous one as he wiped at Tazaro¡¯s hands a second time.

    Tazaro only stared, still blank, though a shadow of relief crossed his face.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know who Zakaraia is, but he must be some sort of sadistic psychopath. He, he...uh, never mind.¡± He stopped himself, as Sheeva would disapprove of him disclosing her tortured state. He pulled away and dropped the bloodied rag into the pile of others, then paced the room as more questions fired rapidly, urging to be spoken. He couldn¡¯t hold them back any longer.

    ¡°Why does she have a wing? Is she some sort of...unfortunate experiment?¡± Vincent asked. Vincent could see the worry in Tazaro¡¯s eyes as the battered man looked back at Sheeva, then back to Vincent again, debating what to say.

    So, he knows, whatever the reason. Vincent thought as he waited for an answer. When Tazaro shook his head in defiance, sat back, and crossed his arms, Vincent continued his questioning.

    ¡°What did she do earlier? With that cloud¡­uh, thing? How has she kept all of...this," He gestured to the giant wing in its sling. "Hidden from everyone else?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not going to tell you.¡± Tazaro decided with a determined, fierce look on his face. Granted, even he didn¡¯t know the extent of it, but he still had his honor to consider.

    ¡°What do you¨Cwell, you¡¯re gonna have to give me something! She¡¯s technically a patient now!¡± Vincent argued.

    Tazaro scowled even deeper.

    ¡°I said ¡®no,¡± He growled.

    Vincent sighed, took his glasses off his face, pinched the bridge of his nose, then leaned against Tazaro¡¯s dresser. Feeling the exhaustion settle into his being, he slid down the side of the dresser to sit on the floor and dropped his head, dangling his arms off his knees.

    ¡°Man, she¡¯s literally asleep, and I don¡¯t want to wake her. Can¡¯t you just¨C

    ¨CNo. I promised¨Con the dead man¡¯s grave. You can ask her when she wakes up.¡± Tazaro insisted sternly.

    ¡°Ok.¡± Vincent agreed in surrender; a promise like that was a promise, and while it rang true when they were children, it rang just as true in adulthood.

    ¡°I¡¯m...I¡¯m still trying to figure it out. I mean¨Cmedically, it makes no fucking sense. It¡¯s a wing. With-with feathers, and-and bone, and connective tissues. Can she actually fly? Will you at least tell me that?¡± Vincent bargained, his medical mind proverbially blown.

    Vincent blinked as Tazaro slowly nodded and looked back at the sleeping woman. The first shred of positivity spread on his face, and his eyes began to glow with wonder.

    ¡°It¡¯s¨Cheh¨Cit¡¯s really something,¡± He chuckled. The cheer didn¡¯t last long as his face fell into a contemplative look.

    ¡°Do you think¨CNo, no.¡± He began, shaking his head at whatever it was that he wanted to say. ¡°Is it possible for¨CNo, that¡¯s insane,¡± Tazaro warred. ¡°I¡¯m insane!¡±

    ¡°Possible to¡­surgically add a wing to someone¡¯s body?¡± Vincent offered. Considering Sheeva¡¯s abnormal state, perhaps anything was possible.

    Tazaro stared at him for a moment, thinking hard about something.

    ¡°...Sure,¡± He finally answered.

    While Vincent doubted that was what Tazaro was thinking, he also doubted the man¡¯s ability to comprehensively convey whatever he was actually thinking.

    ¡°I mean¡­I¡¯m no expert, but that thing¨Cwing¨Cis¡­on there pretty good.¡±

    Vincent witnessed Tazaro fall back into silence to contemplate whatever it was that would have the man finally considering he might be a little bit bonkers.

    ¡°Honestly, I haven¡¯t got a clue how to bind a broken wing, and if that th¨C¡± Vincent physically pinned his tongue between his front teeth. ¡°Wing,¡± He stressed. ¡°Is broken, I-I¡¯ll need to consult with a veterinarian. I have a friend that owes me a favor.¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t tell anyone,¡± Tazaro stated sternly.

    ¡°Trust me, man, my lips are sealed!¡± Vincent promised.

    ¡°They better be.¡± Tazaro threatened.

    Vincent scoffed and gave an exasperated ¡°Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake!¡± at the situation.

    ¡°What the hell am I gonna say? Honestly!¡± He asked, still holding his glasses in his hand. They flopped about as Vincent waved his hands at Tazaro¡¯s understandable ridiculousness.

    ¡°Here¨CI¡¯m sure this one will go over wonderfully at the next conference: ¡®Hey guys! Tazaro¡¯s back from the dead; he brought a beaten and bloody girl to our apartment who can do magic¨COh, and by the way, she¡¯s sprouted a fucking wing¨CNo big deal, though, it¡¯s not contagious!¡¯ D¡¯you know how fast they¡¯d have me committed?¡± Vincent countered, his hands waving about and shoulders shrugging as he animatedly made his point.

    This brought out a chuckle from Tazaro, and his demeanor softened. Vincent huffed from his nose, lips curled in his own smirk as he settled and pushed his glasses back onto his nose.

    ¡°Wings, actually.¡± Tazaro corrected.

    ¡°What?¡± Vincent asked, pausing and tilting his ear, just to be sure he heard what he thought he¡¯d heard.

    ¡°Wings. The other one is, uh, hidden.¡±

    Vincent stared at him some more, trying to figure out how a wing could be hidden. His face scrunched in horror as he imagined all of her bones and organs shifting around to make room for something that was as long as she was tall. The crunching, grinding, and squelching he imagined made the imagery even worse.

    Curse his medical mind, sometimes.

    ¡°I¡¯m...I¡¯m gonna get us some water.¡± Vincent offered, standing and heading to the door.

    Lingering in the doorway, he opened his mouth to say that Tazaro owed him big-time but closed it. The statement could wait. Plus, he had no intention of meaning it. If anything, maybe chipping in for the price of bandages and materials for casts would be enough.

    Tazaro listened to ensure Vincent wasn¡¯t heading out of the front door, then relaxed enough that he could slump back in the chair as he heard the cabinets in the kitchen open and close.

    Vincent returned with a tray with three glasses, apples, and some crackers. Tazaro sipped disinterestedly, then almost chugged the whole thing. As the water settled some and stirred hunger in his gut, he shoveled a couple of crackers in his mouth, thankful for something other than energy cubes and jerky. Though they were simply grain crackers with flakes of salt, it was ambrosia to his tastebuds, and he salivated even more. He polished off the apple, grabbed the second glass of water, and chugged it down, groaning a satisfied, guttural "argh!" as he wiped the water off his lip.

    ¡°Holy¨CHow long has it been since¨C

    ¨Cgotta be days. Feels like days. I don¡¯t know,¡± Tazaro admitted. ¡°Probably gonna stay away from jerky for a while,¡± he groaned.

    As exhaustion set in again, Tazaro leaned against the arm of the chair as he stared off in thought, a thousand-yard stare on his face. As his eyelids drooped and he began to mutter something to himself about ¡°can¡¯t sleep,¡± Vincent reached out and shook him gently, giving pause when Tazaro flinched and let out a frightened gasp of alarm.

    ¡°I was-I was just gonna say, you should sleep on the couch, man.¡±

    Tazaro sighed, turned toward his desk, leaned on it, and stared out the window, searching for something...or someone, Vincent feared.

    ¡°I...don¡¯t want to. I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s safe to.¡± He mumbled. Vincent arched an eyebrow.

    ¡°Why would it not¨Coh, because of Zakaraia?¡±

    Slowly, Tazaro nodded, still searching the skies. He reached for Sheeva¡¯s sword and leaned it against his leg to keep it handy.

    ¡°When¡¯s the last time you slept?¡± Vincent asked, wondering if he should call upon Micah for help¨CTazaro¡¯s behviour reminded him much of a war-battered soldier, though considering all that he had been through in such a short amount of time, he could certainly be categorized as such. Tazaro thought for a moment, and, unable to place a time, shrugged for an answer. Vincent shook his head, not accepting the ambiguous response.

    ¡°Answer me, Tazaro,¡± Vincent demanded. Tazaro took a deep breath and gave a ¡°pshew¡± as he sighed again.

    ¡°Two days, maybe? Broken sleep. Once because I...I fainted. Needed to keep an eye out in case he came back to finish the job.¡±

    Vincent stepped forth to open the window, reach out, and draw the shutters closed. He then slid the window shut and locked it dramatically to prove a point.

    ¡°Look, I¡¯ll keep watch. You gotta sleep. I-I have no reservations about making you sleep if I have to.¡± Vincent bluffed. Tazaro scoffed and sent him a knowing look.

    ¡°Please. What are you going to do¨Cdrug me?¡±

    Vincent silenced and frowned. He considered bolting for his kit and plunging the diazepam into Tazaro¡¯s neck, but by the time he even got to the door, Tazaro would have likely already stopped him. He sighed.

    ¡°No...¡± He admitted. ¡°Look, just try. I locked the window. I work the night shift, so I¡¯m used to being awake right now anyway. You¡¯ve been through a lot, and you need to process it.¡±

    Tazaro scowled and squinted, then calmed and slowly nodded his acceptance. He crossed his arms, lay them on the desk, and buried his head in them, head turned away. Satisfied, Vincent hurried to the living room, grabbed the throw blanket off the back of the green-and-blue plaid couch, and draped it over Tazaro¡¯s shoulders.

    Vincent waited, making sure they were both asleep and comfortable. When Tazaro¡¯s leg jerked, Vincent caught the sword leaning against it before it slipped off and clattered to the floor. He draped the strap to the scabbard around the back of Tazaro¡¯s chair and dimmed the lanterns before closing the door.

 Chapter 15: Accusations of A Dead Man Walking

    Vincent poured boiling water onto more than his usual amount of coffee grounds and stirred the foaming, steeping mixture while he gathered his fleeting thoughts as well as possible.

    His hands shook as he filtered the coffee from finely crushed grounds into a glass beaker, hoping the sharp, rich bite would snap him awake. If this failed him, the next option would be a shot of adrenaline. Or, if he was out of the stuff and desperation called for it, a hellacious injection of medical-grade Iphsium. But, he reminded himself, I already promised not to touch anything like that ever again.

    He brought the beaker to his lips and sipped, astonished when the coffee slapped him across the face. Blinking away his shock, Vincent looked at the glass in his hand, offended. Maybe, it was too strong.

    After calming his coffee down with cream and sugar, he rounded the kitchen corner into the living room to face the chaotic mess of medical books and journals. Vincent had been so desperate to make sense of the anomalies about the woman sleeping in Tazaro''s bedroom, he pulled every book from the shelf he thought might help him. He scowled at the unhelpful things, sighed, wiped at the tearing tire of his eyes, then readjusted his thin-framed glasses back onto his face.

    He bent over to straighten out the scattered books, trying to organize them between texts that were remotely helpful and texts that offered no solutions whatsoever. As Vincent stared at the stack of three possible books versus almost twenty, he realized he would simply have to ask Sheeva and prayed she would be willing to answer.

    He jumped and jerked around sharply at a gravelly ¡°hey,¡± wincing at the twinge in his neck, stiff from pouring over books all morning.

    Tazaro stood there, pale and unblinking, appearing even more disheveled and tired than Vincent felt. Though he had changed out of his bloody clothes, his hair was matted slightly and dirt and blood still caked his face. Even his hands were still stained with blood despite efforts to clean them the night before, held loosely at his sides as he stared in confusion at the cluttered mess of the room.

    ¡°Hello. Uh, how did you sleep?¡± Vincent asked. He decided to avoid asking how Tazaro was feeling, given the circumstance. He would recommend a shower later. Tazaro slowly shook his head, staring off into the space of the couch.

    ¡°Or are you still asleep?¡± Vincent called to him again, wondering if Tazaro was possibly sleepwalking. When Tazaro sucked in a breath and muttered an answer, Vincent gave a slight hum, mildly perturbed. He still couldn¡¯t tell.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m¡­awake.¡± Tazaro mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. The crushing weight of reality was taking its heavy toll on him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I was a dick last night.¡± Tazaro sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and hanging his head in shame. Vincent waved the matter off and shook his head.

    ¡°You both have been through a lot. I think everything you did and said last night is forgivable. Is she doing ok? I was going to check on you both in the next hour.¡± Vincent asked, knowing Sheeva would be sickly for a couple of days while her body fought off the remnants of infection in her leg.

    ¡°She looks miserable. Worse, actually.¡± Tazaro answered, staring at his hands, a guilt-ridden look on his face.

    ¡°I thought so. Sheeva will probably be sick and out of it for a couple of days. Was she stuck in the cold overnight?¡± He asked. The guilty look deepened into a distraught grimace, and Tazaro sighed, disgusted with himself.

    ¡°It was nighttime when I grabbed Mom and ran like Sheeva told us to. When she didn¡¯t come looking for us the next morning, I carried Mom back to the abandoned fortress to look for Sheeva. I was¡­I didn¡¯t know she was hurt.¡± He explained.

    ¡°Lady¡¯s teat,¡± Vincent muttered. He bit his tongue; he wanted to sympathize by stating that it was not easy to carry a dead body, but it would have been too insensitive¨Ceven if his intentions were good. What a personal hell that must have been to carry your own mother. Vincent thought.

    Vincent shuffled past Tazaro and back into the kitchen. He figured the best place for the both of them to start a healing journey would be a good breakfast, even if they had absolutely no appetite.

    Vincent gathered a cast-iron pan, cluckatrice meat, and carton of cluckatrice eggs. Waiting for the oil to heat in the pan, he seasoned the meat and cracked two palm-sized things into a bowl to whisk them.

    ¡°Hey, Vince...would it have mattered if I had gotten to Sheeva sooner? Would it have made a difference?¡± Tazaro asked, seeming hopeful for Vincent''s answer. Vincent kept a poker face as well as he could, hesitating just slightly enough that his whisking pattern fudged a beat. Yes, Sheeva may have been better off, possibly not fighting an infection in a leg and suffering from fever and delusions, but in the end, it was truly anyone¡¯s guess.

    ¡°Don¡¯t beat yourself up like this," Vincent dismissed, not offering a definitive yes or no. "You did what you could. With no actual experience, you administered some decent first-aid. You got the both of you here, alive.¡± He assured Tazaro, giving him an encouraging shake.

    Tazaro didn''t seem to want to listen, and shrugged off the comforting hand. Vincent sighed, slowly.

    ¡°I¡­assume you buried your mother?¡± Vincent asked, hopeful that they had gotten a form of closure.

    Tazaro shook his head.

    ¡°We cremated her. There was no way I would have been able to carry both of them, and we didn¡¯t have a shovel."

    Vincent''s eyebrows raised, surprised. Most Vivroans desired to be entombed, and as intact as possible, rather than cremated.

    "I''m surp¨Cwell, I-I guess I shouldn''t be. Like you said, you lacked the tools for a burial, so¡­cremation would probably have been your better option, anyway."

    Tazaro frowned.

    "I really had no other choice. Besides¡­¡± Tazaro trailed off and crossed his arms. ¡°Sheeva suggested it. Called it a ''warrior''s burial.'' And, anyway, what was I supposed to do? Leave my mom''s body to-to rot?" He asked, blinking back tears.

    "Sheeva¡­gave us a fleeting chance. She fought like hell, and I wish it had been¨Che paused, appearing shocked with himself. "Worth it,¡± he finished.

    Vincent watched the outrage, betrayal, guilt, and confusion flash and mix across Tazaro¡¯s face, and ultimately, Tazaro turned his back on him.

    "I don''t know what''s right to think, or say." Tazaro admitted. "I know¨CI should be grateful, but instead, I''m just¨CI¡¯m just fucking angry!"

    Vincent felt that anyone else in Tazaro¡¯s shoes would harbor a similarly natural, albeit selfish, response as he thought of what to say to console him, finding that the slightest thing might set Tazaro off and either send him into a rage or a breakdown. Instead, he turned to the stove, grabbed a pair of tongs, and turned over the seasoned cluckatrice meat he stuck in the pan. It sizzled, and he stared at it, deciding avoidance would be best for the moment, at least until they both had food and water in their stomach to prepare them for difficult conversations.

    ¡°When I am done making your food, I¡¯m going to buy some casting supplies for her arm and some more bandages. I¡¯ll still have to talk to a vet about bird wings. Have no idea what I¡¯m going to say¡ªobviously, bluff. Say a cat brought a wounded crow to our door. Or¡­ something. I don¡¯t imagine you can put a cast on a wing because of feathers and all.¡± He announced, still wondering what he was going to tell his boss when questioned.

    He supposed he could say it was for practice, but they both knew he got enough hands-on training in the clinic. He snorted a little as he thought about saying he was harboring a fugitive but then blinked. It might actually work if he brought up the fact that, as a doctor, he had the oath to treat people indiscriminately to uphold.

    Speaking of fugitives¡­

    ¡°Hey. There was an incident where a bunch of people were murdered in the Westside, with black flames. No one can figure it out, and everyone¡¯s been on high alert.¡± Vincent informed him. Vincent turned and stared at Tazaro, just now piecing together that Tazaro had disappeared that day. He hoped it was a coincidence, but there was no such thing if he were honest with himself.

    ¡°Was it her?¡± Vincent questioned.

    By how quickly Tazaro seemed offended on Sheeva''s behalf, Vincent immediately doubted Sheeva had anything to do with the incident.

    ¡°That¡¯s absurd! It couldn¡¯t have been; I was there the whole time,¡± Tazaro defended.

    ¡°Ok. I believe you.¡± Vincent nodded.

    Tazaro sighed, and thought for a moment.

    ¡°Maybe, Llyud had something to do with it in an attempt to besmirch Sheeva¡¯s name. He could do magic, too,¡± Tazaro pressed his palm to his chest, recalling the staggered flutter of his heart as the shockwaves seized his lungs.

    Vincent checked the meat with a scalpel, removed the cluckatrice meat to rest on a plate, and then poured the beaten eggs into the pan. They sizzled as they cooked, and he seasoned them lightly. Once they were finished, he put everything on plates, organized them on an old medical tray, and handed them to Tazaro.

    ¡°Go. Make sure you guys eat. You both need protein. Get a lot of water down, too.¡± Vincent ordered, sending him on his way.

    Vincent tidied up, then headed for his room to retrieve his medical kit. He waited for a while, then poked his head into the room to see how the two were doing. Sheeva had sat up, apparently given up trying to spear bites with the fork, and was daintily using her fingers to feed herself, though the meat lay untouched.

    Ahhh. Right. That bruise on her jaw probably hurts like hell, he thought, making a mental note to cut big things into bite sized pieces.

    Tazaro, however, appeared uninterested in his food and had set it aside, arms crossed and fuming as he stared into space on the floor. He was completely unaware that the ragora was snapping, hard, attempting to inch itself closer to the plate.

    Tazaro, you gotta eat, but I suppose I understand. He thought, stopping himself from being too overbearing. If Tazaro had refused anything for the rest of the day, then Vincent would need to coerce him into nibbling on something.

    ¡°Sheeva, you should take this with plenty of water.¡± He started, holding up a soft, green cube of antibiotics and a chunk of pain medicine. ¡°I¡¯ll need to take your temperature, too, though it looks like you¡¯re still running a fever. I will say I am grateful you have the energy and drive to eat.¡±

    Tazaro glanced at Vincent, aware of the passive-aggressive statement, grabbed his fork to stab at a chunk of meat, and stuck it in his mouth. He felt himself become more hungry and eager to eat as the savory, rich, seasoned food registered in his senses. He grabbed his plate and took a bite of eggs. They were fluffy and moist and further drove his insatiable hunger.

    Sheeva scrunched her nose at the smell of the medicine in Vincent¡¯s hand when he held it out for her to take. He dropped his hand immediately, ready to reach for the soup pot she used to throw up into the night before.

    ¡°Feeling nauseous?¡± Vincent asked. She nodded slowly and grimaced as she tried to hold down her food, trying to breathe the nausea away. Vincent grabbed the pot anyway and set it beneath her, seconds before Sheeva spewed into it. She made a sound of pain at her quick movement and whimpered when Vincent held her hair out of her face.

    Vincent waved Tazaro out of the room with his free hand, not noticing that he had already stood and was halfway across the room to give Sheeva respectful space. Vincent unraveled the loose ribbon around her hair and tied her uneven hair back, waiting it out. He glanced at the plate on the desk. It was merely picked at, so at least most of it had not gone to waste.

    Vincent pinched the medicines in half and lifted the glass of water.

    ¡°Here. Quickly.¡± He insisted, popping the stuff in her mouth and holding the water to her lips. She sipped without resistance, lying back with an exhausted ¡°pshew.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to run by my work and grab a few things. I¡¯ll try to be quick. I also need to consult with a veterinarian about binding down a wing. I may be a doctor, but I¡¯m not that kind of doctor.¡± He huffed, trying to be light.

    ¡°This is not the first sprained wing I have had. I will walk you through it, Vincent.¡± Sheeva pointed out.

    "While it¡¯s nice of you to offer, it''s not sprained, it''s broken," he corrected. ¡°I assume Ivan usually treated you?¡±

    Sheeva¡¯s eyes briefly widened in fear before they hardened and pierced him.

    ¡°How do you know¨C

    ¨Cyou called me ¡®Ivan¡¯ and mentioned...¡± He paused, figuring she would refuse to admit to anything. Maybe later, when she was not in so much misery. ¡°Said thank you for treating you.¡±

    Vincent held out the thermometer for her to take, and reluctantly, she did. They watched the temperature rise, then waver, though thankfully not at high as the previous night¡¯s.

    ¡°Suppose you two look similar, though he is older than you by...¡± Sheeva paused, trying to gauge how old Vincent was without flat-out asking. ¡°At least twenty years.¡± She ballparked. Sheeva went to yawn, and as she inhaled sharply, cried out an Ach, vilg! She held onto the breath she had, clutching at the sheet.

    ¡°Your ribs are bruised, too. Quick movements are going to hurt for a while. You should try to get more sleep. Better to sleep it off than suffer.¡± Vincent encouraged her. Sheeva nodded, then sighed, uncomfortable about something.

    ¡°I have to pee.¡±

    Vincent clicked his tongue.

    ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s get that taken care of, then.¡±

    Vincent helped Sheeva drape her legs over the edge of the bed, hook her uninjured arm around his waist, and looped his arm around her as he did his best to guide her to the bathroom. He had to admit, he was surprised to find she was accustomed to the dependency she now faced; she did not seem as embarrassed as other patients did with his assistance. He was unsure whether it was from determination or stubbornness, but it helped alleviate whatever awkwardness followed.

    When they got back to the bedroom, Vincent lifted her with ease and set her back in the bed. He muttered an apology at her hiss of pain and offered her the other halves of medicine, hoping she could hold them down. If not, he would need to come up with a different plan.

    ¡°You must have ended up in his care often,¡± Vincent pointed out as a way to figure out how she really felt, covering her with the blanket and adjusting the mountain of pillows to avoid the giveaway glint.

    ¡°Yes, I did. He took good care of me,¡± She answered, sitting back on the pillows with a heavy sigh.

    ¡°Is that all?¡± Vincent arched an eyebrow. ¡°One might think the two of you were¡­better acquainted,¡± He suggested, shuffling a glass of water closer within her reach. She gave a sharp pfft! before avoiding his gaze.

    ¡°Doctor Marx is just a man who is good at his job,¡± She deflected before sighing and pouting slightly at the wall. ¡°You said you needed to get some things. Go. Do that. I¡­I will not be dying anytime soon.¡± She reminded him before laying back to sleep.

    <hr>

    After gathering all the materials Vincent needed, Tazaro and Sheeva watched with interest as Vincent wrapped the cloth around her fractured arm, then spread a sticky white paste on it that he explained would solidify and create a cast around it.

    ¡°How long will it take to heal?¡± Tazaro asked.

    ¡°Too long,¡± Sheeva growled. Vincent paused and looked at her, a stern look on his face. He was used to stubborn patients, but this was the start of the third day, and he had a feeling she would fight him every step of the way.

    ¡°Six to eight weeks, but to be on the safe side, I¡¯d leave the cast on for at least eight. Be sure you eat well, drink plenty of water and milk, and most of all, sleep.¡± He suggested. ¡°Though, you really don¡¯t have much choice in the matter.¡±

    ¡°He will be well into the wind by then.¡± Sheeva scowled. Vincent looked at her, then Tazaro for an explanation.

    ¡°Who?¡± Vincent asked.

    ¡°Zakaraia,¡± Tazaro answered, uncrossing his arms and standing up from his slant against the dresser. ¡°Vincent, would you mind leaving us alone for a little bit?¡± Tazaro interrupted, giving him a look. Vincent gave a curt nod and obliged the request, figuring that they had a lot to discuss. Hopefully, Tazaro would be able to talk the stubbornness out of her, but he doubted so.

    ¡°Zakaraia told me he was going to Cruinia. He said that if you wanted to, you could chase him there. Why would he just give away his destination like that?¡± Tazaro admitted, the accusatory tone thick in his voice. The skeptical look on his face deepened as his suspicion grew. ¡°Did you know him?¡± He asked bluntly.

    Sheeva slowly shook her head as she thought about Zakaraia¡¯s unfamiliar face; how his red eyes burned with malice and his long-lipped, half-cocked grin spanned his cheeks. She shuddered as the ghost of his touch drove disgust and paralyzing fear through her veins. She growled and sucked in a breath as she picked at her ear.

    ¡°Even though I saw his face, I did not recognize it. I have never met the man,¡± She admitted.

    Tazaro scowled, dissatisfied.

    ¡°Well, you must have met him before. Are you sure you¡¯ve never crossed paths? Looked at him the wrong way¨Cpissed in his cereal?¡±

    Sheeva curled her lip in distaste at the cursed mental image of deliberately urinating in someone¡¯s food.

    ¡°I, I hope that¡¯s another idiom of yours. I don¡¯t make a habit of messing with people¡¯s food¨Cmuch less people I have never met,¡± She stressed, irritated at his attempt for a joke, if that was what he was intending to do. It was in poor timing. ¡°Anyway, he said he knew my father, but didn¡¯t give me anything else. Seemed to be happy that the man was dead.¡± She mused.

    She sighed heavily at a thought.

    If the man truly knew her, he must have known she would not step foot on Cruinia any time soon, though never would have been favorable. She shivered as she thought that that might have been the reason he was going there¡ªmore means of torture or to throw her off her game.

    The more she dwelled on it, the more it pissed her off.

    It is not fair. My journey was supposed to end with Llyud! I didn''t even kill him like I had told myself I would! Unable to wrap her arms or wings around herself, she rolled a tassel on the quilt between her fingers. The thick twirled threads served as a calming tether.

    And what of Tazaro? Sheeva looked over at him. He had his arms crossed, deep in thought, and with such a stern, fiercely angry look on Tazaro¡¯s face, she imagined him also thinking about getting his revenge.

    As Sheeva thought of Rose, she sighed. Rose would have wanted her to train Tazaro, just as she had trained Sheeva to defend herself. Besides, with their target roaming Sferra, how could he rest? How could she?

    ¡°When I am better, I will train you. We will go to the temple. I will bargain for us to stay there and teach you to fight and use your new abilities.¡± She announced. ¡°And, however long it takes will not matter¨Cwe should be safe there with the veil to protect us.¡±

    Tazaro was slightly surprised, expecting her to want to pursue Zakaraia immediately.

    ¡°You serious?¡± He asked. She huffed.

    ¡°Yes, I am,¡± She stated snarkily, then softened. ¡°You deserve revenge for your mother just as much as I do¨Cdid.¡± She explained.

    Tazaro thought back to what he¡¯d seen of the fight, sure he¡¯d noticed the second-guessing look on Sheeva¡¯s face.

    ¡°You hesitated. I saw it. What happened? You should have just killed him,¡± Tazaro hissed, uncharacteristically cold.

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± She snapped, appalled.

    ¡°You were gonna kill him, but you didn¡¯t. Why?¡±

    ¡°Why does it matter to you?¡±

    ¡°Oh, no reason¨Cno reason at all!¡± He announced sarcastically. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m just curious, considering he kidnapped my mother, burned my childhood house down, got me possessed by a Ta¡¯hal, and shoved a fucking crystal in my guts!¡± He listed, counting off the reasons on his fingers.

    Sheeva scoffed so harshly that the rush of air hurt her chest.

    ¡°You decided to tag along, if I recall¨Cso don¡¯t make it like I forced your hand in anything, and don¡¯t you dare go blaming me!¡± Sheeva defended. ¡°You don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to have someone¡¯s life in your hands. You wouldn¡¯t understand, so vilg ott!¡±

    Tazaro blinked, shocked with her explicit insult and scoffed, frustrated. Even if he did ¡°fuck off,¡± as Sheeva told him to, he stewed in anger. As his leg began to bounce with pent-up energy, he stood and paced the room, thinking with a deep frown plastered on his face.

    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me to ¡®fuck off!¡± He argued, then scoffed indignantly. ¡°Please! ¡®Force my hand,¡¯ my ass!¡± He snapped, scowling in her direction. ¡°If Mom hadn''t been kidnapped, I wouldn¡¯t have had to go anywhere!¡±

    ¡°Hey, I wanted you to stay, but you insisted!¡± She ordered, fighting to sit up and point at him accusingly. She couldn¡¯t manage much, but thanks to her growing rage, she barely felt the twinges of pain in her wounds. ¡°Besides, Llyud¡¯s the one who kidnapped your mother, not me!¡± She yelled.

    ¡°Hey! That¡¯s enough!¡± Vincent called from the door, stepping in and stepping between the two. ¡°You¡¯re both still too close to this, and you need to stop!¡± He barked, trying to push Tazaro towards the door.

    ¡°Well, maybe if you hadn¡¯t been here, Mom wouldn¡¯t have gotten kidnapped in the first place, and none of this would have even happened!¡± Tazaro barked, panting and trembling from fury. He gasped at himself and stared at her stricken, shocked, and hurt face, immediately twisted into agony as tears welled in her eyes.

    She dropped her gaze from his, and stared at her feet, embarrassed and stunned.

    ¡°Get out,¡± She demanded in a harsh whisper laden with pain.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t-I didn¡¯t mean that, Sheeva. I¡­¡±

    Vincent, fully shocked, struggled to gather himself, reached up to grab Tazaro¡¯s collar, and forcefully shook him.

    ¡°Tazaro, what the fuck? I know you¡¯re hurt, confused, and angry, but come on!¡± Vincent hissed. ¡°The Tazaro I know would never say something like that!¡±

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°Yeah, no, I¡­I fucked up¨CI didn¡¯t mean it,¡± He admitted, staring at his feet as he shuffled around and wallowed in his guilt and shame.

    Truth be told, Sheeva hadn¡¯t forced him into anything, and he had gone of his own volition. No, Sheeva¡¯s right. I decided to tag along, so I have no right to pin any blame, anywhere.

    He slowed as he realized the depravity of what Sheeva had admitted to about taking someone¡¯s life. It wasn¡¯t the same as throwing them in jail for life, or running them out of town, or ditching them on an island somewhere in the act of mutiny.

    It was a chilling realization that snapped him to some clarity.

    He crossed his arms and cleared his throat.

    ¡°Look, I¡­I¡¯m sorry. I apologize for that. It wasn¡¯t right, or fair, to blame you. Llyud did all those things, not you,¡± Tazaro clarified.

    She scoffed.

    ¡°So you understand my predicament, now? What a surprise!¡± She grunted sarcastically, still avoiding his gaze.

    Feeling that Tazaro and Sheeva¡¯s spat had dwindled enough to hit a lull, Vincent let go of Tazaro and stepped back to stand off to the side, though slightly still between the two.

    ¡°What made you hesitate?¡± Tazaro asked. ¡°I mean, I¡¯m not¨CI know it¡¯s none of my business. But something went through your head, and you stopped. What happened?¡±

    Sheeva glanced at him, then looked away, still hurt. She dropped her gaze to the quilt covering her feet, and picked at the sewn-in tassels.

    ¡°Tyler told me¨Cback when we first met¨Cthat there¡¯s always a choice, and that if I stopped to think about what I was doing, I might find that those I¡¯m doing it for would be disappointed, or that I might be dissatisfied with how I¡¯d spent my life.¡± She admitted with a heavy sigh.

    ¡°Oh,¡± He managed, settling further. ¡°So¡­which was it?¡± Tazaro asked, impatient.

    The stern, stubborn pout she had on her face told the answer. Sheeva would have been dissatisfied rather than self-reflective. He tried to push the spot of indignance away¨Cwho was he to pass judgment, especially since he didn¡¯t have firsthand experience?

    Tazaro found himself unable to put himself in Sheeva¡¯s dissatisfied mindset. If Zakaraia had dropped dead in the next thirty hours, Tazaro might have felt relief from the relatively instant karma. But...Sheeva had wanted revenge for years, not days, and she had been robbed of the opportunity. He shivered at the reminder of Llyud¡¯s head exploding.

    ¡°Either way, Llyud is¡­dead. We both watched him die. He can¡¯t hurt you; he can¡¯t hurt anyone else. For that, I''m¨CHe paused, wanting to ensure he really meant what he was about to admit. ¡°I¡¯m grateful. Forgive me, but I really hope this helps: I think you should be, too.¡± He admitted, waiting for another outburst. The statement seemed to have fueled another source of anger that left her frustratedly mute.

    Sheeva grasped at wisps of thought beyond the exhausting veil of reluctance. Let go? Just like that? So...easily?

    She scowled. Such a thing was not as simple as burning a piece of paper in a fire. She uttered a haughty ¡°bullshit¡± and turned her face away.

    ¡°It¡¯s not that cut-and-dry! How can I possibly forget¨C¡± Sheeva stopped. ¡°Because of that bastard, Rose and Mildred are¨C¡± She stopped again, and groaned in frustration.

    ¡°You couldn¡¯t begin to understand!¡± She snapped.

    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not my prob¨CTazaro began, then snapped his mouth shut. It was just as much his problem as it was hers, considering the nature of their current circumstance.

    I pray I never do begin to understand how it feels, Tazaro thought, unwilling to become so hellbent that he wasted a significant chunk of his life. Frustration not assuaged, he crossed the room and hastily opened the door, stepped through the threshold, and nearly slammed it shut. He stood there, scowling.

    Though he had rudely begun to shift blame onto Sheeva, the fact remained that, because of ¡°that bastard,¡± his mother was dead. Hot tears slipped from his eyes as his heart ached, and the weight of realization that he would never be able to talk to his mother again crushed him. He slumped to the floor in a heap and began to sob.

    Sniffling, he wiped at his face, scrunching his nose at the putrid, tinny scent of dried blood. Telling himself he needed to wash up, he pulled himself up off of the floor.

    His gastly visage in the mirror mildly terrified him, and he tried not to chide himself as he did the only thing he could do in such a frazzled state: try. He stopped the sink and cranked on the hot water, and as the sink filled, he plunged his hands into it, finding himself somewhat numb to the burn as his hands instantly reddened.

    With a hiss as it became too much to bear, he pulled his hands back, added some cold water, and grabbed the washcloth off the hook to suds it up with soap.

    The heat was welcome, and the softly abrasive washcloth alleviated him of the dirt, blood, and sweat on his face. With the splash of water to rinse away the soap came a snap of the mental clarity that, while things could have been much worse, he was still alive. He stared into space as the drops from the tip of his nose plopped into the now-murky water in the sink, gave a heavy sigh, and pushed the lever to unplug the sink.

    He went to the living room and sat down on the couch, then leaned back with a heavy sigh as he stared at the ceiling.

    ¡°I recommend you both stay away from each other for a while, and really take the time to think on things, especially before you go spitting awful things like that and shifting blame. That really wasn¡¯t right, or fair, and you should apologize¨C

    ¨CI tried t¨CTazaro began, then stopped as Vincent gave him a stern, fierce, and never-before-seen glare and held up a hand.

    ¨Cyou will apologize, again, and later, after the both of you have calmed down enough to listen.¡± Vincent finished, then sighed as he sauntered to his chair and sat down in it. ¡°I¡¯ll be there to mediate, but you two have to reconcile. And, take your time; don¡¯t rush it, and it will mean more. It won¡¯t do either of you any good to stew about the whosits and whatsits to blame,¡± He ordered, shifting to lean on an arm as he stared at the floor in contemplation of something. Tazaro waited it out, feeling there was more to be scolded for.

    ¡°I¡¯m taking a couple of days off; told my boss I am taking care of a couple of patients. Runaways, from an abusive household. For anonymity¡¯s sake.¡± Vincent answered. Tazaro¡¯s eyes widened.

    ¡°You did?¡±

    Vincent tapped and shook his foot in nerves, then ruffled a hand through his hair, unbound from its usual base-of-the-neck ponytail.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± He confirmed, still seeming to struggle with believing his circumstance. ¡°I mean, I had to come up with something, considering I needed bandages, stronger medicine, and casting supplies." He listed, counting the items off on long, thin fingers.

    With a light tch, he leaned back in the chair.

    "Honestly: what else was I supposed to say that wouldn¡¯t have aroused suspicion? That I¡¯m sick with the runs? Had a heavy night of drinking¨Cnot that Fritz would even believe me on that one!" He laughed, wagging his finger at the idea.

    He settled with a deep inhale and slow exhale, which Tazaro found himself copying out of habit.

    "No.¡± Vincent heaved a sigh. ¡°No, I didn¡¯t say anything other than that. Thankfully, the boss didn¡¯t press, either, so I¡¯m just going to take that and run with it. We¡¯ve decided to just garnish my wages to make up for, uh, ¡®broken medical equipment.¡±

    Tazaro¡¯s appreciation swelled, though he felt bad for putting Vincent into such a tough situation.

    ¡°Thank you. I¡¯m sorry to put you through this. If you need it, I have some savings I can pay you back with,¡± He offered. It wasn¡¯t much, since he¡¯d only just been able to start saving anything at all, but hopefully, it would be enough to make up for Vincent¡¯s financial loss.

    Vincent huffed at the offer.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it¨Chave you seen how much I make? I don¡¯t need your money. Besides¡­everyone thinks you¡¯re dead.¡± Vincent pointed out, leaning over to retrieve a newspaper clipping from his messenger bag. He handed it to Tazaro, with an added comment.

    ¡°Might even be drafting your death certificate as we speak.¡±

    Tazaro looked at the paper now in his hand.

    Three Dead in Southgate Fire!

    By Aismell Smohk

    Late last week, a fire in a Southgate home claimed the lives of three unfortunate souls. Tazaro Chorea, 26, his mother, Mildred Chorea, 45, and an unidentified woman, tragically lost their lives. Firemen speculate the house collapsed, trapping the deceased in their home. Firemen also determined the fire to be caused by a leakage in the oil-line for automated lamp-light, though, upon arriving at the scene, ¡°with such black flames, something must have been added to the oil reserve that wasn¡¯t safe.¡± Chief Officer Jenneric Mann reminds others using the otherwise safe appliance to ¡°only use oils recommended by manufacturers,¡± and that only ¡°licensed architects add the installments to the home to prevent misfortunes such as this.¡± Medics remain skeptical of the fire brigade¡¯s initial search and are stumped at the lack of bodies left behind, since ¡°surely, there would be at least remnants of charred bones left behind?¡±

    All Chief Officer Mann had to say on the matter was that he was ¡°serious, and don¡¯t call me¨C

    The page cut out shortly, the rest of the tabloid sheared crudely by scissors, but Tazaro stared at it, trying desperately to digest the information. He sighed, and rubbed the tension from his face as he leaned forward.

    ¡°They think I¡¯m dead?¡± He asked, still unsure.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Vincent replied, then chuckled at himself. ¡°Guess this must be what they mean by ¡®you¡¯re not dead until you¡¯re warm and dead¡¯.¡±

    Normally, he would have laughed, but currently, Tazaro couldn¡¯t appreciate the joke.

    ¡°But it¡¯s only been a few days,¡± He countered.

    Vincent peered over his glasses at him, eyebrows raised just enough to tell Tazaro he was wrong about something.

    ¡°It¡¯s like I told you; there weren¡¯t any bodies to find.¡±

    Tazaro gave a soft ¡°oh,¡± chilled to the bone as he began to wonder¨Cif he and Sheeva had been caught in the flame, how hot would it have had to be to eradicate evidence of their bodies? Did it make a significant difference, considering the flames were cast from a spell?

    He took a deep breath and reminded himself that, whatever the case, neither he nor Sheeva had perished in the flames.

    ¡°Plus, it¡¯s better than the alternative; you, being kidnapped by a ¡®devil woman with wings.¡¯ At least no one¡¯s¡­looking for you.¡±

    Tazaro lifted his head to stare at Vincent for a moment, still in disbelief about what he was hearing. He shook his head, and slumped over again, wringing his hands through his hair.

    ¡°Hmph. It¡¯s not often I have a patient come back from the dead,¡± Vincent muttered as though trying to make a joke of the situation, but with the evenness of his voice, Tazaro doubted so. He looked up at him. The studious look on Vincent¡¯s face was familiar, and if the man had a mechanical skull, the gears would be working overtime.

    ¡°Are you getting at something or trying to make a poorly-timed joke?¡± He asked for clarification, though it was unlike Vincent to do so after critical information like that. Plus, Vincent looked far too tired to make silly quips...or maybe he was tired enough to make witty quips.

    ¡°Just wondering what we are going to do. Prove the records wrong? Keep this secret? I imagine if we break the news to people that you¡¯re still alive and kicking, they¡¯ll all want to stop by and see you. Considering winged-warrior-girl in there, we very well can¡¯t have that, can we?¡± He mused. Tazaro shook his head.

    ¡°Not to mention, who would believe such insanity?¡± Tazaro added, a worried look on his face. The flittering thought that perhaps Tyler and Micah would believe surfaced but was quickly dejected at the question of whether or not they could keep a secret. Tyler most likely could and would. Micah, knowing that Tazaro and Sheeva were both alive, probably would.

    Maybe, he reminded himself, considering the man had had enough of his own brother¡¯s criminal acts and had arrested his own brother¨Cthough it was not without a heavy toll.

    ¡°Mm. Better yet, who could keep quiet?¡± Vincent asked.

    ¡°I was just thinking about that. Gods, I hope Tyler¡¯s alright¨Chave you seen him? Could you-would you check on him?¡± Tazaro asked, the worry evident on his face. ¡°I mean, I¡¯d go, I¡¯d do it myself, but, uh¡­¡± He trailed off, looking at the page still in his hand. ¡°I guess I¡­can¡¯t.¡±

    Vincent nodded, accepting Tazaro¡¯s humbled request. It was the least he could do.

    ¡°I could...bring him here. You probably shouldn¡¯t be going anywhere. At least, not anytime soon, and not during the day.¡±

    Tazaro gave a relieved smile and nodded, but it faded once more.

    ¡°We should run that by her, first. What are we going to do about Sheeva? He¡¯ll ask about her.¡±

    ¡°I would prefer to be left out of that. I am the reason Tyler¡¯s wife is dead.¡± Sheeva announced, making them jump. She was leaning against the wall, a determined expression on her pallid face.

    ¡°How did you¨CVincent began, then stopped himself and sighed. ¡°Here, sit. You shouldn¡¯t be walking around.¡± Vincent insisted, offering his arm for her to take as he stood out of his chair. She slowly nodded and shakily stepped forward, wincing with pain as she sat down in Vincent¡¯s favored spot with his assistance.

    ¡°Mildred and Tyler weren¡¯t married,¡± Tazaro corrected with an instant spot of bitterness at the fact that Sheeva would choose to refer to Mildred as ¡°Tyler¡¯s wife¡± and not by name. He turned around to shield the look of fury, then of immediate concern with himself¨Cit wasn¡¯t as though Sheeva was refusing to acknowledge his mother¡¯s existence; she was simply stating an observation.

    ¡°They may as well have been, it seems. Besides, you consider Tyler to be your father, do you not?¡± Sheeva questioned. ¡°I liken the relationship between you and Tyler similar to the one I had with Rose. They adopted and loved us.¡±

    Tazaro softened and nodded. Tyler had been a father figure to him for about fifteen years, even if they had disagreed frequently. Perhaps the fact that they could disagree on things and still get past it was a true testament to Tazaro considering Tyler to be his father.

    ¡°I see,¡± Tazaro hummed, slightly humbled at another reminder that Sheeva ¡°was Sferran, too.¡±

    ¡°About that: what are we going to do with you while Tyler¡¯s here?¡± Tazaro asked her.

    Sheeva¡¯s face darkened. She wanted to point out that no matter what Tazaro tried to say, Tyler might still hate her for one reason or another. Whether for her failure to keep Mildred safe, put his family in unnecessary danger, or be something other than Sferran, it would all yield the same bitterness. She decided against it, as he would probably just counter with something that made her question herself and her demeanor, as they both seemed to do often.

    ¡°Currently, I cannot hide my wings. I think it¡¯s best I stay out of sight, unless¡­¡± She paused, seeming hesitant. ¡°Do you believe he can keep such a secret? Finding out we are alive is one thing. Finding out we are super-Sferran is another.¡± She pointed out.

    ¡°Uh, ¡®we¡¯?¡± Vincent questioned. Sheeva slowly nodded.

    ¡°I made a deal with a ta¡¯hal, but not before the thing took over his body and forced a pair of wings out of his back, not to mention the¡­crystal I accidentally sealed into his body.¡± Sheeva answered. Tazaro was thankful that she had said it because he realized he would have sounded nuts the more he thought about saying it.

    ¡°What?¡± Vincent asked. He looked between the two and gaped, lost for words.

    Sheeva frowned, apparently still upset about her mistake. Tazaro grimaced, not wanting to be reminded of the foreign object tucked inside his body.

    ¡°Llyud ambushed us. He pinned me, electrocuted me, and shoved a crystal in my stomach,¡± Tazaro began, lifting his shirt to show the pink scar stretched beneath his right lung. ¡°I blacked out then. I don¡¯t remember a thing.¡± He admitted, prodding at the spot experimentally. As he pushed, he felt the pressure of something wedged next to his stomach, but it didn¡¯t hurt like it had before.

    ¡°The Ta¡¯hal controlling Tazaro tried to kill me. I knocked him out. After seeing Tazaro was wounded, I healed him. I didn¡¯t know he had something in there.¡± She finished, an apologetic look splaying on her face in an instant.

    ¡°Holy sh¨Chow did I miss that?¡± Vincent asked, stepping forth and crouching to poke at the blob beneath Tazaro¡¯s abdomen. Sure enough, in the space between his lung and his liver, something solid remained. With an uncharacteristic blegh! of disgust, Vincent quickly withdrew his hand and shuddered.

    ¡°It, it doesn¡¯t hurt, if you¡¯re worried,¡± Tazaro stated, amused that Vincent was finally grossed-out about something, and, to boot, something in regards to a body.

    Vincent looked from Tazaro to Sheeva, then back between them again, then shook his head.

    ¡°Why are you so calm about this? We have to get that thing out of you, Tazaro! Now!¡± He barked, standing to rush to his room and gather his medi-kit.

    ¡°Vincent, there¡¯s nothing you can do,¡± Sheeva argued, simultaneously talking over Tazaro.

    ¡°But, I can do magic, now!¡± Tazaro complained, twisting around on the couch to look after Vincent, who had already gotten to the arch of the hallway.

    Vincent stopped, then turned to stare at Tazaro as though he¡¯d grown a third arm while his medical brain fought to catch up with the situation.

    ¡°Wha¨Cbu¨CIt¡¯s a foreign object, Tazaro! It¡¯s not meant to be there! It could¨CIt could kill you!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well¨Cso will the flu. So can man-eating plants. So can flying people, too, apparently!¡±

    ¡°Show him that fire spell I taught you. It¡¯ll save time than trying to convince him with words.¡± Sheeva suggested.

    Tazaro traced the sigils in the air and felt the tingle behind his cheeks and on his tongue, and with a gentle sigh, watched the tiny trail of flame follow his breath. He still could hardly believe that he was even doing it, but as he saw it again and felt the instant sap of energy and sheer chill of his limbs, it solidified his proof.

    Vincent stared at the space where the fire had been, still dumbstruck.

    ¡°And you¨Cyou really have wings?¡± He asked. Tazaro nodded.

    ¡°Can you show me?¡±

    ¡°Uh...not exactly.¡± Tazaro looked at Sheeva for a more detailed answer, and she shook her head.

    ¡°The wounds healed over after they were retracted. Tazaro will have to break the skin again to bare them, I think. I suppose there is no safer place outside Malfa Temple to bare your wings for the first time, but until I can heal you, we will have to wait. I am still...¡± Sheeva paused, wanting to attempt gratitude. ¡°Not well enough,¡± She finished.

    ¡°It will be longer still until you can actually take flight.¡± She stated, getting straight to business. It would distract her from uncomfortable thoughts. ¡°As I said before, they are new bones, new muscles.¡±

    She reached into the pocket of the shorts she wore, pulled out a wrinkled sheet of paper, and handed it to Tazaro. He took it and smoothed it out, then scowled at the ink that covered his hand.

    ¡°Here. A list of strength-training exercises. When my wing has recovered, I will show you how to strengthen them, too. It should be good for me, as well. I will need to rehabilitate.¡±

    He gave her a look at the messily scrawled lettering, and she frowned.

    ¡°I am right-handed.¡± She explained. Tazaro nodded and looked at the paper again. He would decipher it later.

    ¡°I gotta say, I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re standing, considering, uh...¡± Vincent trailed off, as he had not shared details with Tazaro about the sickly wound on her leg and doubted she had, either.

    ¡°Yes, well,¡± She began, apparently sheepish. ¡°I¡­I wanted to apologize, at the very least. It is¡­There are things I know I should have done, and in false security, I abandoned¨C

    ¨CLook, no offense, but I really don¡¯t want to talk about this right now,¡± Tazaro uttered, still fully embarrassed with himself and his harsh words.

    Sheeva blinked, then averted her gaze to the fireplace, visibly frustrated. She struggled to stand, then teetered as she held onto the arm of the chair. Vincent approached her, ready to catch her if needed. Tazaro stood as well, but Vincent waved his hand. There were some things he wanted to discuss with her out of earshot of Tazaro.

    ¡°Here. Let¡¯s get you back to bed.¡± He encouraged, offering an arm for her to take. Hesitantly, she did, shielding her reddened face from Tazaro¡¯s gaze. He could feel her tremble with the effort to stand as she used his arm and the wall to walk.

    ¡°I¡¯m-I¡­¡± She squeaked, fighting back tears and sniffling.

    ¡°Shh, Sheeva. Save your energy. You have to give it time,¡± Vincent assured.

    ¡°But he¡¯s right. It is my fault.¡± She argued. ¡°I ignored my own vigilance. It was an opening, and Llyud exploited it, as he always did.¡±

    Vincent frowned, and felt that any consolations or advice would fall on deaf ears.

    ¡°I was serious about being surprised that you¡¯re standing. That wound on your leg was pretty bad. I¡¯ll need to check it to make sure it hasn¡¯t split. How does it feel?¡±

    She paused, breathing hard and fighting to stay standing. Vincent pulled her to his side and continued to hurry her through the hall. She leaned against him as he twisted the doorknob and led her inside.

    He helped her lie back on Tazaro¡¯s bed and bunched up the fabric around the wound on her leg, then peeled back the bandage. A mixture of blood and fluid had oozed, and while the sutures held well, the body¡¯s clotting and scabbing had not taken enough root to be effective. Vincent scowled. She definitely should not have been up and walking about yet.

    ¡°Your stubbornness is going to kill you.¡± Vincent pointed out, examining the wound. It looked better than the previous day but would still take quite some time to heal¨Csix to eight weeks, potentially.

    ¡°This will likely scar. The one on your chest, too. As well as the ones on your arm.¡± He guessed.

    ¡°I understand.¡±

    Vincent tilted his head in curiosity. It seemed far too easy of a thing for her to accept. These would be on her body for life, and to be reminded of the brush with death on an everyday basis could take a heavy toll on her psyche.

    ¡°Are you ready to deal with the aftermath?¡± He asked bluntly.

    ¡°That the scars will serve as a reminder of my failure? I will have to.¡± She whispered darkly to subtly suggest avoiding the topic.

    Vincent pursed his lips.

    Definitely stubborn. He thought, noting the front she put up. She knew where he was going with it, but even the words she used in her dismissal served as hints to the demeaning mindset she caged herself in.

    ¡°Failure, huh? I don¡¯t think so.¡± He called her out on her verbiage. ¡°Instead of making you think of failure, make them serve you as a reminder of survival.¡± Vincent mused, grabbing a clean towel to wipe the wound clean.

    ¡°Unless¡­you were worried about something else?¡± He asked, wondering if she would answer. ¡°Along the lines of how others might perceive you?¡± He reached for a mortar and pestle, grabbed a pinch of dusted herbs, poured some water into it, and began to mix it around to create a sticky brown paste.

    When Sheeva scoffed, he glanced at her. She had an embarrassed scowl on her face.

    ¡°If a person were to find disgust in me for such a thing, they do not deserve my time or attention.¡± She decided, though she had never given it much thought before.

    ¡°Hm!¡± He grabbed the brush and began to dab the poultice onto her wound. ¡°I¡¯m impressed.¡± He admitted.

    ¡°Impressed with what?¡± She growled, annoyed. He hurried to finish applying the paste and set the mortar in her free hand so that she would be unable to grab for his throat again.

    ¡°Give me a moment to finish this, and I will answer.¡± Vincent asked, grabbing for the fresh dressings he set aside. He thought about it somewhat as he applied the bandage and wrapped the cloth around it. He sat back in the chair when he was done, a thoughtful look on his face.

    ¡°If that¡¯s how you truly feel, then¡­when you find love, it will not be superficial. It will be deep, honest, and for your sake, I hope, liberating. Unless, you have found such a thing already?¡±

    Sheeva instinctively looked towards the living room, then to her feet. Whatever chance she had to see where the relationship between herself and Tazaro might lead, she had likely blown it.

    ¡°Ah, my apologies¨Cit was¡­It¡¯s none of my business,¡± Vincent dismissed, the glance towards the living room not unnoticed. ¡°While we¡¯re here, we should change the bandages on your chest, too¨Conce every few hours.¡± Vincent mentioned. Sheeva sighed and sat up while he pulled the shirt up and over her head.

    ¡°Perhaps a button-up shirt would work better for you. I¡¯ll look for one tomorrow. Also, I had to discard the, uh...chest-wrappings? Do you not use corsets?¡± He asked. She coughed, then winced at a spot of pain.

    ¡°I tried them, once, out of pure curiosity. Those things are an annoyance. I cannot breathe or move in the damn things.¡± She answered.

    Vincent chuckled; the fashion statement was indeed a troublesome thing to deal with.

    ¡°Hm. Fair¨Cwhoever designed those things should apply a tourniquet to their neck. Can¡¯t tell you how many times those things have caused trouble in the emergency room.¡± He grumbled, recalling the common occurrence of high-class women being rushed to the hospital for fainting from the damn things being strapped too tightly. ¡°But, back to shirts: Do you have a favorite color?¡± He asked. She had a slight curl to her lips as she answered with ¡°yellow.¡± He took it for an honest answer.

    He dressed the wound on her chest, remembering that he wanted to ask about the deep scar that raked across her back. He stared at the length of the parallel, jagged-edged scar while he voiced his question.

    ¡°Behemoth. They can use their tails as whips.¡± She answered with a sigh. ¡°I apologize for attacking you the other night. I thought you were someone else." Sheeva changed the topic, watching as he gave an impressed look, piled up the bloody bandages, and discarded them in the trash.

    "Believe it or not, it happens a lot in my line of work. You''re not the first, and you won''t be the last." He assured her.

    "I see." She yawned and winced at a twinge of pain. Vincent reached for the block of pain medicine, pinched off a small chunk of it, and handed it to her.

    "Here. And, some water, too." He offered. She held the medicine between her lips and sipped on the water, and he helped her to lay back on the mountain of pillows.

    She stared at the ceiling, a tired, crestfallen expression on her face, no doubt swimming in self-pity and dissatisfaction. Vincent stood and headed for the door. He rested his hand on the handle and paused.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if they foster gratitude and forgiveness at that temple of yours, Sheeva, but a word of advice: try to practice some for yourself. You¡¯ve been through a lot¨Cmore than I may ever know¨Cand you¡¯ve just been through a whole lot more. But, uh¡­it¡¯ll take time, and patience.¡±

    Her expression soured, and the emotional pain broke out on her face as she fought hard to hold back tears. Vincent bit his tongue and left. He either struck a nerve or a chord of sensibility, and he prayed it was the latter, for her sake.

    He paused by the bathroom to wash his hands, then returned to his chair in the living room.

    "How is she?" Tazaro asked, looking up from the list he was still trying to decipher.

    "Hm.¡± He thought for a moment, wondering how to put it delicately. ¡°Recovering. Brutally."

    Vincent held out his hand for the list, curious what was on it. Tazaro handed it to him and watched as Vincent¡¯s facial expressions changed multiple times.

    ¡°I¡¯m surprised you can read that.¡±

    Vincent smirked.

    ¡°I¡¯m a doctor. I¡¯m used to chicken-scratch.¡±

    He handed it back to Tazaro.

    ¡°That¡¯s a pretty extensive list. I think it covers just about every muscle in the body. Shame Micah can¡¯t help you.¡±

    Tazaro gave him a worried look.

    ¡°Did something happen to him?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re dead, remember?¡±

    ¡°Right. Not every day you, uh, learn that you¡¯re dead. I still don¡¯t know what I¡¯m going to tell Tyler. Or when. Or how.¡±

    ¡°Maya¡¯s been beside herself.¡± Vincent offered a shift of focus on who to tell, feeling somewhat sorry for the young, brown-haired intern at the clinic. ¡°She likes you¨Cer, she liked you? Well, you know. I haven¡¯t told her you¡¯re still ticking. I haven¡¯t told anybody. Probably won¡¯t unless they discover you or I have no other choice.¡± Vincent asked. Tazaro shook his head.

    ¡°Yeah, I know she does. I¡¯m just not interested. She reminded me of Kirin." Tazaro admitted. Vincent clicked his tongue and nodded.

    "I¡¯m glad to find that Sheeva doesn¡¯t."

    Tazaro refused to dignify the comment with an answer.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to try to sleep.¡± Tazaro insisted before Vincent could say anything else about the matter. Turning his back on Vincent, he grabbed the blanket and pillow and puffed it, then lay down to get more rest, a scowl stuck on his face.

 Chapter 16: Actions Speak Louder Than Words, Dont They?

    Vincent helped Sheeva sit on the yellow, corduroy footrest, then sat behind her in his green chair and reached for the brush he placed on the side table. He fought the tangles as gently as he could, relieved that she was comfortable enough to allow him to do such a thing. The whole fact that she was alright with sponge-baths amazed him, let alone washing, drying, and brushing her hair. Though, as he mused on it, she was his patient, and until the wounds healed and her strength returned fully, she would be almost entirely dependent on him.

    Sheeva agreed for Vincent to cut her hair, even though he had never cut anyone¡¯s hair. She would have preferred to do it herself but could barely lift her arms, let alone sit up. The green rug in the center of the circle of furniture received her cold stare.

    ¡°You sure you¡¯re alright with this?¡± Vincent asked, holding the scissors in his hand and the damp, long locks of hair in his other. She curtly nodded and closed her eyes in anguish at the snip of the scissors as they sheared her hair. She rubbed Rose¡¯s ribbon between her fingers to calm herself.

    Tazaro had been watching but looked away at the emotionally pained look on her face. Vincent sifted his fingers through the next section as he measured it, hoping he could at least make an even cut. He supposed that if he were holding a scalpel, he would do better.

    Hair that was to the middle of her back now stopped just above her shoulders. Vincent fought to ignore her tremble and hiss as the snip of the scissors sounded out again.

    ¡°How long has it been since you¡¯ve cut your hair?¡± Vincent asked. Hopefully, getting her to talk about something would ease her nerves.

    ¡°Aside from trimming and grooming...or needed kindling in a pinch, not since I was thirteen.¡± She answered, tensing at the next sift of fingers through hair and snip.

    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to make it even.¡± He promised, draping the newly cut locks over his knee.

    Tazaro looked back.

    ¡°You have not cut it since then?¡± He asked, the drabness of the situation further driving itself. She fought the dismayed drop of her head.

    ¡°Rose had long hair. After a few years of living at the temple, she encouraged me to grow it out. I enjoyed having it brushed and braided. Previously, I kept it short so that no one could grab it and use it against me. One less...degree of vulnerability.¡± She answered honestly. She fiercely scowled as she recalled Zakaraia¡¯s handling of her by her hair and seethed.

    ¡°Keeping it short is something I was a fool to throw away.¡±

    Tazaro stared at her for a moment, a sympathetic look on his face at her dreary confession, and watched as Vincent continued to transform her hair into something foreign.

    ¡°Zakaraia was much faster than I am, and his control with a blade is terrifying. He just barely sliced my neck when he cut my hair¨Clike it was deliberate. He threw me around like I was a doll. Laughed the whole¨C¡± She stopped and cringed at the following snip. ¡°Time.¡± She finished.

    ¡°I tried to knock the wind out of him. He unleashed a flurry of kicks and punches in such rapid succession, I...¡± Sheeva paused, unable to find an explanation for it. ¡°He grabbed me by my hair and forced me to look him in the face. Threatened people I knew. I only got out of his hold because I stabbed him in the leg. I stabbed him in the side and again in the chest. He should have died, but he simply healed himself,¡± She sighed. ¡°And then laughed some more.¡±

    ¡°He healed himself?¡± Vincent asked, amazed. Slowly, she nodded.

    ¡°I can heal wounds, too. Not as well as that, but I can still do it. Currently, though? Likely not. Zakaraia healed my broken nose. Suppose I impressed him. I bared my wings, hoping it would give me an edge. It didn¡¯t. He used my force against me.¡± She continued, recalling the cold of the cobblestone she¡¯d rolled over.

    ¡°When he bore his wings, it was¡­it was over. He could move so fast I couldn¡¯t see him. Disappeared in the blink of an eye. He grabbed my wing and arm, busted them, and threw me to the ground. Bastard threatened to kill you and your mother after he was done with me.¡± She tipped her head toward Tazaro as she stared at her arm in its sling.

    ¡°In a final effort, I rushed him again. He said something. Tysyacha Lezviy? I am not sure. Whatever it was, it damn near killed me.¡± Her cheeks burned with shame at her delusions. ¡°I was certain I¡¯d died. I barely remember¡­" She paused, refraining from admitting her foolish delusions. "I remember telling myself that I didn¡¯t want to die, despite my reckless charge."

    ¡°You mentioned that you charged, anyway, knowing it was a losing battle. What were you hoping to do?¡±

    Sheeva¡¯s face fell, and she dropped her head.

    ¡°I was going to try to trap him with roots and drive my blade through his heart, if need be. I modified my roots with thorns to better hold him in place, and struck. All I did was graze his chest as he broke out of my hold. Whatever he did¡­whatever spell he cast, the weight of the air was so heavy, I could barely move¨Cas if trying to swim through mud.¡± She mused. ¡°I don¡¯t know how I got the wounds on my thigh and chest, because I didn¡¯t see him grab for a blade at all,¡± She added.

    Vincent thought for a moment. The oddly clean, almost surgical incisions on her thigh and chest were so pristine, he had originally taken them to have been inflicted as means of torture, but the new information of Zakaraia¡¯s spell, he began to wonder otherwise.

    ¡°I, uh, know nothing about how spells work, but is it possible he reflected his wounds onto you? The locations seem, uh, too coincidental,¡± Vincent offered, trying to help Sheeva¨Cand himself¨Cmake sense of the damages done.

    The concern on Sheeva¡¯s face was telling, and Vincent sat back as his stomach sank.

    "If that¡¯s so, then¡­I wonder if he took the time to heal me. He must have, for Tazaro to have woken me up the following day.¡± She admitted with a frightened face, still grappling with the near-death experience. It had barely been five days.

    ¡°He had to have,¡± Tazaro admitted as he sat back and let go of his tense breath, feeling a chill of the room as his hair stood on end. The affirmation that Zakaraia had been the one to pose her so remorsefully made his stomach churn, and with what he just heard her tell him, it soured even more. It was far more terrifying than he imagined, and as Tazaro traded looks with Vincent, he found the experienced doctor to hold a similar look of fear.

    ¡°If he did heal you, it¡¯s¡­a manipulative power-play, Sheeva¨Ctypical of a sociopath.¡± Vincent pointed out in the hopes that it would help as he continued to even out her hair. "Their control of things gives them a false sense of power."

    "False control? I beg to differ. It seems he had complete control to me," Sheeva grunted, clearing her throat and rubbing it gently with her fingers. Tazaro looked away and swallowed the lump in his throat, recalling how he''d been held by the throat as he struggled to land a hit.

    "No, Sheeva. False," Vincent insisted, tenderly trucking a lock of hair back as a sign of reassurance. "You still got back up and tried again, didn''t you?"

    While Vincent couldn''t see it, Tazaro could, and he witnessed the darkened glower of her self-disgust, and he wondered what else had happened that she wasn''t telling them.

    ¡°You know,¡± Vincent paused and lowered his hands. The scissors dangled from his fingers as he thought of something to say. ¡°The body¡¯s defense to exhaustion or blood-loss is to shut itself down to prevent further damage. I would like to think that you¡¯re alive because of that, not simply because of a choice to heal you.¡± Vincent murmured, focusing on cutting her hair.

    He fought to ignore Tazaro¡¯s skeptical look, hoping that he wouldn¡¯t see through the bullshit. He prayed even more that Sheeva wouldn¡¯t see through the bullshit.

    ¡°That¡¯s impossible. I felt my blood draining from my body. I watched it cover my skin, cover the ground. Felt the warmth of it. Smelled the stench of it. Felt my brain succumb to delusion and retire itself to the embrace of death. I find it highly doubtful I would have survived otherwise, Berkovitz.¡± She shivered.

    Vincent shook his head sadly and bit his lip at the failed attempt.

    ¡°I was only trying to help.¡± He muttered, reaching for the last strand of hair. He measured it, snipped it, and draped the last lock over his knee.

    ¡°If you want to help, speak only the truth. We do not make progress on a foundation of lies.¡± She stated fiercely, turning to look him in the eye.

    At Vincent''s surprised, apologetic expression, Sheeva took a deep breath and sighed. ¡°Look, I didn''t mean¨Cshe began, then stopped, wishing to phrase it better. "My apologies, but you weren¡¯t¡­there."

    Vincent pressed his lips together in a straight-lipped frown, then relented with a nod.

    "That being said, I understand your efforts. It is...appreciated. Perhaps, I ought to¡­think better of myself," She mumbled, moreso to herself than to the other two in the room.

    Pleased, Vincent cleared his throat, wrapped all the hair he cut away into a bunch in his hand, and held it out.

    ¡°What shall we do with this?¡± He asked. She turned to look at it and scowled. She took it from him, stood shakily, and chucked it in the fireplace. Sheeva knelt, traced her sigils in the air, and blew out a weak breath of flame. The hair caught fire and shriveled, emitting the scent of burnt hair into the living room.

    After gathering her will to stand, Sheeva limped toward the kitchen to grab herself a glass of water, carrying it with her to Tazaro¡¯s bedroom.

    ¡°I am going to sleep some more. I am still exhausted.¡± She announced before disappearing.

    Vincent stood and walked to the sliding glass door and opened it to air out the room, fanning his face and wrinkling his nose at the scent of burnt hair. He stared out at the sprinkling rain, a typically sunny day clouded over by grey, puffy clouds.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen some stuff in my days, but I had no idea someone could be capable of such...ruthlessness. This isn¡¯t your ordinary criminal, Tazaro. Disturbing as this is, I wonder how many other people have fallen victim to this man.¡± He mused aloud. He ruffled his black hair and shed his glasses as they fogged up from the heat emanating from his eyes. He squinted at the world outside as he wiped them off with his shirt and slipped them back on his nose.

    ¡°I suppose I also have to remind myself that this man is not fully Sferran. Wings? Magic?¡±

    Tazaro shivered as the sound of flapping wings echoed in his head.

    ¡°Definitely not. You didn¡¯t see the look on Zakaraia¡¯s face. He didn¡¯t even flinch. Didn¡¯t blink.¡±

    Vincent blinked and turned back to look at Tazaro, who had wrapped a blanket around himself and was having a stare-down with the floor. He still appeared sleepless; dark bags rested under his eyes, and his hair was tousled and greasy.

    ¡°Hey. Take a bath. Hot as you can stand. Wash your hair. Take care of yourself. I¡¯ll make you some tea.¡±

    Vincent slipped into the kitchen and filled a kettle with water. He struck a match and lit the wick to the oil drum below, watching the flame burn a bright, pacifying orange. He positioned the kettle, overheard the faucet for the tub, and nodded. Good, Tazaro was at least making an attempt.

    He filled a metal steeper with whatever tea he happened to have, unable to remember the full name of it, only that it smelled really aromatic. He looked at the label: Cherry-blossom Avil...blah-dee-blah, unable to tell due to water damage on the last bit of the title. Either way, it was something warm and hopefully would put the tired, battle-sick man to sleep.

    When the kettle began to whistle, he grabbed it and pulled it aside. He clasped a small string to the steeper, dropped the steeper into the kettle, and hooked it to the end of a fishing pole held by a ceramic toad wearing a straw hat and purple shorts that stooped on the ledge of the kettle¡¯s handle. The thing had been a gift from the office for his birthday, and while he feigned sheepishness about the whole ordeal, the fishing toad was adorable and always brought a smile to his face.

    If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    He dug around the cabinets for the old frying pan with the loose handle and set it over the flame, grabbed the stick of butter and a scalpel, and began to work on some grilled cheese sandwiches for the three of them¨Ccomplete with a thin slice of cured meat. If Sheeva was truly asleep by now, he would simply split the third one between the both of them.

    In the spare time he had, Vincent considered crushing up a pellet of a sleep-aid and slipping it into the two cups he set aside for Tazaro and Sheeva but decided against it as Sheeva¡¯s begging voice to not be induced into sleep echoed in his head. Determined to block it out, he returned to making their food. Vincent had just finished plating up the last sandwich when Tazaro walked out, looking much more presentable than he had.

    "Good, you washed your hair. You feel better?" He asked, using the scalpel to cut the sandwich for Sheeva into fourths so that she could hold it easily in one hand.

    "Yeah, actually." He saw the sandwiches and pointed at one. "For me?" He asked. Vincent nodded and filled a cup with some tea, and set it on the medical tray.

    "Mm-hmm. The other one is for Sheeva." He ordered, biting into his own sandwich, enjoying the bread¡¯s crisp, melted cheese and salty, spicy meat. He made a mental note to write to his dad and thank him for the idea, assuming he remembered in the morning.

    ¡°Oh. Um¡­¡± Tazaro began, blinking rapidly and glancing frantically as he seemed to struggle with something.

    ¡°Look, this isn¡¯t me forcing you to apologize. I told you, and I told Sheeva to give it time, and to apologize when you both are ready. This is just me, trying to take care of you guys. I noticed she didn''t eat much at lunch. I am not surprised, but a little bit here and there is better than little to nothing.¡± Vincent insisted.

    Tazaro took a deep breath, nodded in agreement, picked up the tray, balanced his own things on it, and carried it to his room. He knocked, heard her give permission for entry, and stepped in. The room was chilly; she had thrown open the window and sat at the desk, petting the red and yellow-spotted ragora.

    The ragora no longer hissed at him when he approached; instead, it would snarl, then relax after a while. Pacified by Sheeva¡¯s petting, it seemed to ignore him today.

    "I think he has become more trusting of you," Sheeva muttered, looking at the food on the tray as Tazaro set it down on his desk and sat on his bed. Hesitant, she chewed her lip and warred with her thoughts.

    "Yeah, I noticed it, too." Tazaro muttered, sending a sheepish look towards the kitchen where he assumed Vincent still stood. "I don''t think he knew that you don¡¯t like grilled cheese sandwiches. But, if it helps, I trust him; I''ve known him for years, though I suppose I understand if you don¡¯t¡­" He trailed off, then shook his head at himself.

    "Here," He insisted before Sheeva could protest, reaching for the one cut into triangles. He took a section and took a bite, then hummed in delight.

    "Wow, I might need to eat all of that¨Cit''s damn good!"

    "You¡­didn''t need to do that," She commented.

    "Hm, maybe," Tazaro attempted to dismiss, eager to play it off like it was nothing, although the action to taste-test her food had almost been immediate.

    "No. No ''maybe," She countered, seeming adamant about something. "You trust him, don''t you?"

    "With my life," He answered. "Why?" He asked, grabbing his own sandwich and blowing on it before taking a bite.

    "Hmph," Sheeva huffed. "He''s certainly shown he''s capable of holding a life in his hands," Sheeva muttered. Still, she found herself determined and yearning to trust like she had before knowing the cruelty of man. "Ah, but, I¡­I trust you."

    Tazaro paused mid-bite.

    "Therefore, I will¨Cwant to¨Ctrust him, as well."

    "You would still trust me after all the things I said the other day? I was really rude,¡± He mumbled, ashamed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t trust me.¡±

    Sheeva slowly nodded, with an out-of-place chuckle.

    "You know¡­I was easily vehement and lashed out at my friends, too, following Rose¡¯s death. They called me out on it, and forgave me when I sought forgiveness, so¡­when you are ready, I¡¯ll accept an apology, too.¡± She admitted with a soft smile.

    Even though it was a light tease, it didn¡¯t make Tazaro feel much better.

    ¡°Besides, I would like to believe you have not entirely forsaken me. You could have left me in the clearing to die. You could have left me in the forest. You could have turned me in to authorities. But you didn''t, nor have you."

    Sheeva paused, and turned to him, oddly complacent.

    ¡°Unless you plan to, eventually?¡± She asked, too lightly to have been serious. ¡°Suppose it would be easy; in this state, I cannot run. So¡­I suppose you could carry me, if you feel so inclined.¡±

    Tazaro found it strange that she would continue to joke about such a thing, then felt guilty about the brief belief that she had abandoned them in their time of need, and forced another bite to alleviate his self-disgust.

    "Yeah, well¨Ccouldn''t. Wasn''t the¡­isn¡¯t the right thing to do,¡± He answered, playing with the small bite of food between his teeth as he contemplated things. Recalling how she had been so¡­comfortable in his arms while he carried her in the forest, he forced the bite down with a sip of tea.

    ¡°Hey, Sheeva, do you remember¨Cuh¡­¡± He started boldly, then stopped. If he embarrassed her by calling her out, she might choose to say nothing at all.

    ¡°Hm?¡± She hummed, trying to ignore the twist of her stomach. She¡¯d thought it to be a fever dream, but perhaps she really had planted a kiss on his lips and run her fingers through his hair.

    ¡°Do you remember anything you said when I was carrying you back? You were running a pretty serious fever.¡± Tazaro forced.

    Sheeva chuckled to hide the knots of sheepishness.

    ¡°Mm. I¡­guess I did say some pretty strange things, didn¡¯t I?¡± She volunteered, hoping he would take the bait, and that they could sweep the rest under the rug. ¡°I don¡¯t remember,¡± She dismissed. ¡°I thought I was imagining it.¡±

    ¡°Oh. I see,¡± He muttered, a mix of disappointment and suspicion swirling in his gut.

    She definitely remembers, but doesn¡¯t want to talk about it, though¡­neither do I, at this moment.

    ¡°That''s...a relief." He replied, sitting back.

    The silence was uncomfortable and the space between them was full of stagnant tension, broken only by the hungry growls of their stomach. To avoid more awkward conversations, they found themselves hastily chowing down on their food. Sheeva bit off a small bite for the ragora and dropped it into its mouth, jerking her hand back sharply as it almost nipped at her fingers.

    "Ach, you little bastard! See if I feed you again!¡± She snapped at it.

    ¡°How do you know it¡¯s a male?¡± Tazaro asked, taking a sip of his tea. He swirled it around in his cup to dissolve the settled sugar Vincent had added to it. Sheeva sniffed her tea, enjoying the warmth of the cup in her hands. She did not care for the floral fragrance of whatever tea it was, but perhaps it would taste better than it smelled. She sipped and mulled it around. It was sweet but still nose-scrunching bitter.

    ¡°Their spots and color palette, mostly. This one is too young to have its second row of teeth.¡± She explained. Tazaro froze and raised an eyebrow. He covered his mouth with his hand and shoveled the bite of food he¡¯d taken into his cheek to speak.

    ¡°Sorry¨Cits second row of teeth?¡± He asked. Sheeva looked at him, surprised.

    ¡°Did you really not know?¡±

    Slowly, Tazaro shook his head, feeling on-the-spot.

    ¡°I bought a book after Mom gifted it to me. It said only to water once a week. Didn¡¯t say anything about a second row of teeth,¡± He admitted.

    ¡°Once a week? No, that is certainly incorrect. Ragoras are wet-terrain plants. They require water daily. Do you still have it? I will read it.¡± She stated. He nodded and went to his shelf, searching. He grabbed it, blew the dust off, and handed it to her. She flipped through the book, searching for the section on Bulbosus ragora. There were only a couple pages on the subject. She snorted and looked up at him, holding it up by its few pages.

    ¡°This is all?¡± She tsked, shook her head in disapproval, and began to read it.

    The ragora is a dry-terrain plant that requires little water. Its leaves are dark green, with a purple center. It is a carnivorous plant, meaning that it eats meat, preferably insects and small mice. Because it is a dry-terrain plant, it only requires water every month, though, for best results, owners should water once a week.

    Ragoras like to be pet and scratched in places they cannot reach, typically on the side of its mouth or the underside of the bud. They are¨C

    Sheeva shut the book so quickly it made a snapping sound and tossed it aside. It landed on the bed with a soft ¡°flump.¡± She pointed at it as she haughtily began to tell Tazaro what she thought of it.

    ¡°Whoever wrote this book is a fool. Scratching it on the underside of its bud will prove futile; it has no sensors there. Its sensors are on its leaves, where it absorbs the sun''s rays to make its energy. They don¡¯t even mention the differences between males and females or culinary use. They barely even got the carnivorous bit right! Ragora will eat anything.¡± She squinted at it.

    Tazaro looked at her curiously, somewhat thrilled with her emotional state. He opened his mouth to ask what she¡¯d meant about culinary use but shut it when she began to speak again.

    ¡°Pfft. No wonder your plant wants to die.¡± She growled, crossing her arms. ¡°You should rewrite that book. Correct knowledge begets proper conduct.¡± She strongly suggested. The ragora seemed to look at her sadly, reaching for her with its leaves. She nodded and began to pet it once more.

    ¡°Hmph. That¡¯ll go over nicely. How to Care for Your Bastard Plant, by Tazaro Lindus Chorea,¡± He grunted sarcastically.

    ¡°Rubbing the cuticle takes some of it off. It is a good thing; the cuticle can often build up and suffocate the plant.¡± Sheeva pointed out.

    ¡°What¡¯s¡­ the cuticle?¡± He asked. She tutted, shook her head, then sighed as she told herself that because there wasn¡¯t adequate information for him to research, she¡¯d have to inform him herself.

    ¡°The waxy part of the plant. It helps to prevent water loss, sun damage, and overhydration.¡± She explained, then scoffed.

    ¡°That book was the worst waste of paper and ink I¡¯ve ever seen. I think I would rather suffer through a gossip girl¡¯s journal.¡± She grunted. ¡°Males have brighter, striking colors; they are generally bigger, and when they get to be about three years old, have a second row of teeth to protect females from predators. Females have a softer palette, leaning more towards blues and purples; it helps them hide in the fall when they¡¯re sporing. But, their leaves are bigger, and their roots stretch further to make up for the overcrowding protective presence of males.¡± She took another bite of the sandwich and washed it down with tea. She dipped her finger in the tea and dripped some into the ragora¡¯s mouth.

    ¡°You really like plants, huh?¡± Tazaro asked.

    Sheeva chuckled softly.

    ¡°Oh, no. My secret is out.¡±

    Tazaro huffed, pacified by her calm.

    As she promised to do after every meal, Sheeva grabbed a pinch of the antibiotics that Vincent had left on the bedside table as well as a pinch of pain meds for use ¡°as needed,¡± stuck them in her mouth, and swallowed them down with more of the bitter, sweet tea. She shuddered at the assault on her taste buds, then sat back and lowered her gaze to the red ribbon she usually used to tie her hair back with.

    ¡°I do not know what I will do with that. I fear losing it.¡± She admitted, staring at it sleepily. Tazaro followed her eyes, wondering what she was looking at, and upon seeing the ribbon crumpled on the desk, he nodded slowly to himself.

    ¡°Do you think your hair is long enough that you can still wear it?¡± He asked. She blinked and sighed, feeling her body sink into the chair. Either the pain meds she¡¯d just taken were kicking in, or she was feeling the after-effects of not eating well for a week, at least. She chalked it up to both.

    ¡°Eventually, it will. The ribbon means more to me...¡± Sheeva paused to give a sleepy yawn. ¡°Than the hair. Though it will be a while until I can figure it out.¡± She mumbled, motioning to the arm in its sling.

    ¡°I could tie it for you.¡± Tazaro blurted, amazed with himself.

    Sheeva shot him a skeptical look, her eyes narrowed and piercing. It softened as she felt a pang of longing, and she hesitantly nodded.

    ¡°Do you know¨C

    ¨CHonestly, no. I don¡¯t. I just...wanted to help.¡±

    Sheeva reached for the ribbon and handed it to him. The long, tattered thing appeared to be on its last strand, and he considered replacing it out of generosity but shook his head at himself as he remembered he really couldn¡¯t leave the apartment. After helping her to sit in the chair, he sat up on the bed, then pulled her towards him.

    ¡°The last people that played with my hair were Sophia and Yelena.¡± She tried not to think about how he tenderly tucked her hair behind her ear. ¡°I hope they are alright.¡±

    ¡°You could probably ask Vincent to check on them,¡± Tazaro suggested, weaving his hands through the strands.

    ¡°You think he would do that?¡± She asked.

    ¡°I think so. Vincent offered to contact Tyler for me and bring him here, though I¡¯ve been...putting that off.¡± He reached and gently bunched up the strands of hair into a manageable ponytail and attempted to tie the ribbon around it. It simply fell out of its bind and back down around her face.

    ¡°You will need to tie it much tighter than that,¡± Sheeva muttered with a soft scoff.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t want to hurt you,¡± Tazaro replied, fighting the look of worry threatening to break on his face. He tried again, tying the frayed ribbon a little tighter than he had. The ponytail was lopsided but held together for a little longer before falling out. Sheeva directed her attention to the Ragora on the desk as her hair fell back around her face.

    ¡°You should just face Tyler, Tazaro. He deserves to know you are alive.¡±

    Tazaro stopped and let go of the bunch of hair he pulled back.

    ¡°But, what about you?¡±

    Sheeva hid her small smile, appreciative of his worry.

    ¡°Me? Forget about me. Tell him I am dead if you want. Be thankful you have a parent to mourn your death. Appreciate it. No better way to do that than to tell him you¡¯re still alive, I think.¡± She began. He dropped his hands and rested them on the back of the chair. ¡°If you¡¯re still worried about what he would think of me, don¡¯t.¡±

    Tazaro thought for a moment, feeling the well of unease in his gut. He took a deep breath and accepted Sheeva¡¯s words.

    ¡°I¡¯ll make you a deal: If I do that, you reach out to those kids.¡± He bargained.

    Sheeva nodded in agreement.

    ¡°Alright.¡± Tazaro felt the smile break on his face and the sigh of relief flow through his chest. A calm silence fell over them, save for the chittering snore of the plant on the desk. It appeared to be asleep, a drool of shiny, silvery nectar oozing from the corner of its mouth.

    With nothing else to say and both of them equally lax, now would be a good time for apologies as any.

    ¡°Hey, about the other day¨C

    ¨CI should get some sleep.¡± She interrupted insistently, pushing herself out of the chair, unwilling to confess to pecking him on the lips in the forest.

    Tazaro stammered at her for a moment, then reluctantly stood from his spot and moved aside, while she climbed up into the bed with the aid of the stepping stool they had brought to her from the utility closet. With a heavy sigh, he headed for the door, opened his mouth with second thoughts, then closed it, fighting to accept that perhaps, she was not ready.

    ¡°Sleep well, Sheeva.¡± He offered instead, stepping out of the room and shutting the door lightly behind himself. He plodded towards his space on the couch, lay down, and kept his back to the room while pulling the blanket tight around himself to self-soothe.

    Ruminating on his frustrations gave him such a headache that he buried his head into a pillow and decided sleeping it off would be a better way to deal¨Cat least, for now.

 Chapter 17: A Promise to Provide

    A few more days had passed, and once Vincent felt comfortable leaving the two alone without risking Sheeva slipping into a worse condition or the both of them at each other¡¯s throats, Vincent set out to fulfill the promises he¡¯d made in helping ease the other¡¯s worries about their loved ones.

    Or, in Sheeva¡¯s insistent phrasing, ¡°the ones we care about.¡±

    Vincent stared at the run-down, abandoned house off Dekkir Street that Sheeva had directed him to. He held a sack of potatoes, jerky, and carrots tucked under one arm as his medical supply kit hung over his shoulders and cradled a bundle of books under his other arm. Sheeva offered up all her money for him to tend to the poor things upon hearing about an outbreak of springtime flu, worried for their wellbeing. He refused to accept the payment for his services and instead used the coin to buy food, clothes, a cookbook, and some beginner¡¯s reading books at her behest.

    He pushed his glasses back up on his nose with his shoulder and stepped forward, tapping on the door with his foot, waiting under the sagging porch, frowning as he felt rainwater dripping down on the top of his head and down his back. He looked down as a young teenage girl with curly brown hair and amber eyes opened the door, eyeing him cautiously.

    ¡°Um, Sheeva said I could find you all here. You must be Sophia.¡± He smiled kindly. Sophia beamed at him, opened the door wide enough to let him in, and stepped aside.

    However, before he could step in, he stopped when he heard a ¡°Sophia, no!¡± Vincent watched as a child about Sophia¡¯s age hurried out from a room, pulled her back behind him, and stuck a knife in Vincent¡¯s face. Vincent blinked, eyebrows lifted in worry, and raised his hands in surrender as well as he could with his hands full. He noted similarities in their faces between the two and figured this was the pair of siblings Sheeva had told him about.

    ¡°I take it you are Arc. Sheeva sends her regards¨Cwell, I suppose you only know her as ¡®miss." He corrected himself.

    He shook his head and tried again.

    "May I enter? This roof is leaking, and I¡¯d very much like to stay dry.¡± He asked. Arc eyed him cautiously, and Vincent fought a roll of his eyes as another drop of rainwater trickled down his back.

    ¡°If she really sent you, then you know where the Tinker Owls roost.¡± He leered. Vincent peered in thought for a brief moment, then smiled; the odd statement Sheeva had called out after him suddenly made sense.

    ¡°Oh. Hah. The belfry of the clock tower.¡± He answered, impressed with the level of precaution Sheeva took with these kids. She must have genuinely cared about them, a pleasant surprise from the consistently stoic and aloof front she put up.

    Arc softened, skeptically lowered the knife, and allowed Vincent access. As he stepped in, Sophia reached and took the bag of potatoes, jerky, and carrots from him. She carried the sacks that were almost as big as she was into a nearby kitchen.

    ¡°Thank you, Sophia.¡± He called after her.

    Vincent looked down and stepped over the hole in the floor that Sheeva had warned him about, then rounded the corner into the living room. A fire crackled in the fireplace, where a young man lay, covered in blankets. He appeared ill, evident by the violent shivering and sweating on the poor man¡¯s¨Cnow that he got an even better look, kid¡¯s brow. Two others sat next to him that Vincent assumed to be Nook and Yelena by their brief description from Sheeva.

    Instead of being flighty as Sheeva told him he was, green-eyed Nook went on the defensive, standing sharply and coming between Vincent and the young man on the floor. His thick, curly black hair bounced and bobbed, and even though the young teen put on a fierce front, Vincent could see the kid¡¯s hands tremble as a sharp knife waved in his face.

    ¡°Don¡¯t come any closer, or I¡¯ll stab you!¡± Nook threatened, blue eyes piercing and fierce. If the young man were taller, older, and bulkier, it would have frightened Vincent more than it currently did.

    ¡°Nook, wait, it¡¯s ok! Sheeva sent him.¡± Arc assured, stepping between the two and pulling the knife out of Nook¡¯s hands.

    At the mention of Sheeva¡¯s name, the youngest child¡¯s face lit, and Yelena looked at Vincent expectantly.

    ¡°Is she here? Where is she?¡± Yelena asked.

    ¡°Ah, no. Not yet. Sheeva¡¯s, um, ill. You must be Yelena. Sheeva told me you like to read. Here, these are for you¨Ca gift from Sheeva.¡± He stated, holding out the tiny bundle. She took it, excited, and skipped away. Nook followed after noticing her struggle to untie the knot, and Vincent watched him cut the twine that held it together.

    After urging for privacy from the remaining two, Sophia and Arc left them and curled up by the window as Yelena sounded out the book¡¯s title on the top of the stack with decent pronunciation.

    Turning his attention to the sick teen, Vincent shrugged his medic kit off his back and unrolled it, looping the stethoscope around his neck.

    Vincent retrieved his thermometer from its leather casing, dribbled an alcohol solution on it, then stuck it in the poor patient¡¯s mouth. He watched the temperature skyrocket and clicked his tongue.

    ¡°What else is going on with you besides fever and chills, Josef?¡± He asked, slipping on a pair of bladder-skin gloves. He wriggled his fingers into it to get a better fit.

    ¡°Headache. Sore throat. Tired.¡± Josef¡¯s voice cracked and sounded incredibly dry, typical of a strain of flu that swept across the continent in the springtime, but considering the child''s homelessness, Vincent wondered if Josef had drunk from a contaminated water source and now hosted a vile parasite.

    Vincent gently pressed his fingers against Josef¡¯s neck, noting the swollen glands. Upon further inspection, he saw the fading coloration of a hickey hidden by the man¡¯s collarbone. Vincent¡¯s brow furrowed in contemplation. He reached under Josef¡¯s shirt, finding the area around the teen¡¯s armpits were swollen as well. Perhaps he wasn''t sick with the flu.

    ¡°Got yourself a girlfriend, have you?¡± He smiled, though when Josef didn¡¯t answer and dropped his head in shame, Vincent arched an eyebrow, then shrugged his shoulders. He wondered if Sheeva knew or even if Josef trusted her enough to tell her.

    ¡°Boyfriend, then? That is no matter.¡± Vincent pressed. Josef muttered something Vincent was sure was something along the lines of ¡°not exactly.¡± At this, Vincent sat back and gave him a stern look, thin lips pressed together to form a disapproving line that spanned his face.

    ¡°You¡¯re not...working the sinner¡¯s corridor, are you?¡± Vincent asked, prying open Josef¡¯s mouth to peer towards the back of his throat. It was red, puffy, and swollen.

    It was slight, but Josef nodded. Vincent took a clearing breath as he felt his skin flare, unable to fight the disapproving frown on his face. In this case, he would judge slightly. Definitely not the flu. He hoped whatever plagued the child wasn¡¯t the result of a sexual disease.

    ¡°How many people?¡± He asked, helping Josef to sit up.

    ¡°Depends on the night,¡± Josef mumbled.

    ¡°I see.¡± Vincent continued as evenly as he could, not eager to shatter what little rapport he''d gained. He warmed the stethoscope¡¯s metal cup in his palm before snaking it beneath Josef''s shirt, and as the fabric lifted, Vincent saw the unmistakable bruise of a handprint near Josef¡¯s waist. Sheeva would be furious. It made him mad.

    ¡°Money or food?¡± He sighed.

    ¡°Whatever they need,¡± Josef answered, tilting his head towards the others.

    Vincent pursed his lips, feeling a spot of rage on Sheeva¡¯s behalf. Though the child¡¯s intentions were good, it made him scowl with unease.

    ¡°I hope to the gods you only have Mono. Sheeva wants an update, and I¡¯m going to have to tell her.¡± He cleared his throat and glanced at the group of kids behind them. He silenced himself, unwilling to worry them.

    ¡°The potatoes, jerky, and carrots I brought should get you a couple of day¡¯s meals. You need to sleep and drink plenty of water. In the meantime, avoid contact with others, especially those children. You¡¯ll risk getting them sick. When you are able, come to the clinic in Southgate. I¡¯ll check to make sure there¡¯s...nothing else wrong with you.¡± He ordered, grabbing a scalpel and shaving off a chunk of a medicine block.

    ¡°Sophia?¡± Vincent called, forcing a smile to his face. He closed the shavings in a tin container and handed them to her.

    ¡°Give him a pinch of this at every meal and make sure he drinks plenty of water. Unfortunately, you¡¯ll have to make sure the others stay away from him as well as they can for a little while; he could make you all sick, too. Can you do that for me?¡± He asked. Sophia nodded and took it.

    He shed his gloves, returned them to their slot, splashed some more alcohol on the thermometer, and slipped it back into its leather casing. He rolled it up, stood, and slung it over his shoulder, thinking. As Vincent stepped away to leave, Josef caught his pant leg in a weak grasp.

    ¡°Tell Sheeva I¡¯m sorry.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Don¡¯t worry. Sheeva will...understand, I think. If not, I¡¯ll at least talk her down.¡± Vincent assured him, fearing Sheeva¡¯s fury.

    He hopped across the hole in the floor and headed out into the rain. His stomach twisted at him as he contemplated what to do. Who could he possibly go to that would foster them and wouldn¡¯t ask any questions? He supposed Tyler could, but the man had enough on his plate, still in mourning, and he hadn¡¯t yet told him Tazaro was still alive, wanting to wait until Tazaro was ready to face his stepfather to say anything at all. The orphanage was still underway, and there was no way in hell he was about to direct them to Northside.

    He looked up as the streetlamp flicked on and stared at it for a moment, still pondering.

    If he took them to the clinic, Maya and Fritz would take care of them for the first couple of days, but they would not be able to care for them in the long term. Not to mention, he had already requested a lot of them recently with the agreement that they would not ask questions, and if he were to dump a lot of children on them, they would definitely start to ask questions.

    He looked in the direction of the recruitment barracks near the western gate, a crazy thought occurring to him. There were beds. There was food. Most of all, there was safety, and Micah was there more often than not, and he could likely keep a close eye on the group.

    But what would he even begin to say? Hey, our friends are back from the dead, and we¡¯ve been lying to you this whole time¨COh, and by the way, could you be a dear and take care of a few kids? Vincent snorted to himself and shook his head, then sighed heavily and shoved his hands in his pockets. The thought of allowing Josef to slip even further than he had into the high-risk lifestyle of prostitution made Vincent sick. The kid would end up tortured or dead, and then where would the poor kids be? No...Micah would be their best shot at getting out of the slums.

    Vincent¡¯s mind was made up; he bolted for the recruitment barracks on Roussell¡¯s western side, walking so briskly he panted. His leg muscles felt rubbery by the time he reached the training grounds. The grounds were old, bearing almost no grass between the endless paths of mud streaming across the lawn from constant drills. He stepped toward the buildings covered with canopies to keep the rain out of the passageways from door to door.

    The hallways were still lit by torches; the recent, modernized, oil-lamp lighting hadn''t reached this area yet.  Some walls were worn out and uncared for, crumbling as the frequent springtime rains beat them down. Regardless, the base served its purpose as well as it could: straw or wooden mannequins littered the training grounds, and a line of bulls-eye posts lined the far wall.

    Only one young man with what looked like red hair was practicing archery in this horrid rain, and as Vincent paused to watch for a moment, he found the man was a pretty decent shot. He muttered an impressed ¡°neat¡± and continued toward Micah¡¯s office. Pausing at the door, Vincent read a sign that said ¡°emergency medical bay¡± and squinted his eyes at it. He opened the door and peered inside.

    Dozens of cots were strewn out along the floor, occupied by sweating, vomiting, and shivering soldiers, and Vincent arched an eyebrow. He flagged down one of the medics, who held up a finger as they stooped to drape a cool towel over a patient¡¯s forehead.

    ¡°I was looking for Micah Yates? This, uh, used to be his office.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right; it was. It got moved to the tool shed on the opposite side of the grounds. We needed this extra space. Springtime flu outbreak.¡±

    Vincent clicked his tongue in mild distaste, nodded his thanks, stepped out, and promptly closed the door. He looked out at the mentioned tool shed, upset that it was all the way across the muddy field.

    ¡°Course, it would be a mess.¡± He muttered, trying to ignore the squelch of his boots as they suctioned to the mud on his way to the old stone building. A temporary sign denoting Micah¡¯s office rested on the door, illuminated by a glass lantern that Micah must have hung there himself.

    A grumpy voice barked out permission for entry as Vincent knocked on the creaky wooden door. When he stepped inside, he felt the welcoming heat of the space immediately, warmed by a fire in a washbasin rigged to a window to direct the smoke outside. Vincent kicked off and scraped the mud from his boots before stepping further in.

    ¡°Micah, I need your help with something.¡±

    Micah looked up from a logbook, dressed in his field uniform, a surprised look on his face as Vincent spoke up. Vincent did not come to visit at work often, but it was generally work-related if he did.

    ¡°Help? With what?¡± Micah asked cautiously; the last time Vincent had needed his help, he''d had to intimidate someone into seeking medical help "by any means necessary" and had almost been demerited because of it.

    Vincent eyed the other man in the room, who was busy filing something. He couldn¡¯t speak freely and squinted his eyes as he chose his words carefully.

    ¡°Running errands. Do you have any openings? There¡¯s someone I want you to take in. Ah, well, a group of ¡®em, really. Consider it a personal favor. For their protection.¡± Vincent insisted. Micah blinked, closed his open mouth, and raised his eyebrows.

    Vincent sighed and slouched. ¡°Look, I¡­I don¡¯t know what else to do.¡±

    Micah let go of a small sigh, previously wondering if perhaps Vincent was going to ask him to check the records for any mention of Tazaro, Mildred, or Sheeva. He often wondered if either of the other two had been having as difficult a time as he had in accepting the firemen''s theory that, by some stroke of terrible luck, the three had simply perished in a fire so destructive it erased their bodies from the face of Sferra. He had been hoping for some reason to keep looking other than the blind, dumb faith he''d sheltered for the last couple of weeks, and it didn''t seem like the two were connected.

    "I can try to work something out, I suppose." He agreed, packing away his thoughts for another time. He stared miserably at the jumbled stack of papers in his hands.

    So much for burying myself in work, he thought before lifting his head to look Vincent in the eye.

    "I can¡¯t make any guarantees, though. Who¡¯re we, uh, hiring?¡± He questioned, absent-mindedly shuffling the stack before putting it down.

    He didn''t miss the hesitant nature of his childhood friend''s demeanor.

    ¡°A...teenager and his...younger siblings.¡±

    Micah''s brow furrowed, and he pursed his lips, stunned.

    ¡°A teenager? And younger? Uh, that¡¯s a little young to be teaching them to swing around swords, don¡¯t you think?¡± He countered, wondering what was so significant about this request to warrant bringing in children to be trained as soldiers.

    Vincent huffed and directed his sheepish look at the furnace in the corner of the room.

    How insane he must have looked just now!

    ¡°No, of course, it is." Vincent agreed. "You know, I didn''t mean as a soldier, but as a janitor, or a cook, or something. Anything other than what the older one has been doing to provide for them.¡± Vincent murmured, allowing his personal disappointment in Josef''s decisions to finally shine through.

    Micah¡¯s face fell, and his brow showed his concern.

    ¡°And...what has he been doing? Stealing? Pandering? I would have a difficult time trying to convince¨C

    ¨CProstitution.¡± Vincent muttered, keeping his voice down.

    Micah¡¯s eyebrows raised to the roof, and his face fell into a frown as his gut twisted. He tapped the edge of his pencil on the stack of papers.

    ¡°Oh. I see,¡± He muttered, then winced, having raided and seen some of the horrible situations young adults found themselves in in the Sinner¡¯s Corridor.

    ¡°Poor kid,¡± He mumbled, straightening himself in hopes of deterring darkening thoughts. ¡°Patient of yours?¡± He asked, wishing to veer the topic.

    "Soon, likely," Vincent answered.

    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­I will see what I can do¨CChef Nelson in the Mess Hall might need a couple extra hands,¡± he mused, trying to think of where else to put a group of kids. ¡°Dunno how she¡¯ll feel about kids in the kitchen, but, uh¡­¡± He trailed off, unable to think of the woman¡¯s reaction.

    Vincent glanced at the other man sitting at the desk, wondering if he was paying attention. As he continued shuffling papers with a frustrated, tired look on his face, Vincent decided he wasn¡¯t. That aside, Vincent feared Sheeva was likely to find some way to hurt him despite her weakened state. Vincent pinched the bridge of his nose. He had no choice.

    ¡°Look, this favor, it¡¯s¨CHe began, louder than he should have, and stopped as he glanced at Wedge again.

    Micah leaned back as Vincent mysteriously leaned forward, a guilty look on his face.

    ¡°It¡¯s for Her Highness, and by default, our favorite nerd.¡± Vincent murmured, propping himself over the desk.

    Micah almost lost his control, having teetered his chair on the back legs to give himself the most distance he could manage. He held fast to the edge of the desk and steadied himself as he almost tipped over backwards, then slapped his feet back to the floor. They ignored the glance of the other person in the room.

    ¡°Are you shitting me?¡± Micah barked, eyes wide. Vincent winced at Micah¡¯s booming voice.

    "What''s wrong, Captain?" Sergeant Wedge asked, an eyebrow curved in question at Micah''s outburst as he tried to smooth over the page he¡¯d nearly torn as he jumped from Micah¡¯s outburst.

    "Don''t worry about it¨CTazaro related, apparently." Micah grunted, giving Vincent a stern stare. ¡°Care to fucking explain?¡±

    Vincent took a deep breath to ready himself, wondering if he was going to go through with this. He shook his head at his apprehension; for the sake of the right thing to do, this had to be done. Hopefully, that would be enough to soothe Sheeva before she gave him an earful.

    ¡°I, I really can''t say. Look, just¡­come by the house when you¡¯re off work.¡±

    ¡°Off work? Hell no, I¡¯m coming with you right now!¡± Micah insisted, getting to his feet so quickly that the chair skidded across the floor. He turned around and grabbed his jacket to throw it over his shoulders. The black and green contrast with his dark blonde hair, and the Captain¡¯s bars gleamed with the light from the lantern. He strapped a blade across his chest and grabbed his cap off the hook on the wall.

    ¡°Cover for me, Wedge¨CI''ll owe you one!¡± Micah ordered over his shoulder as he hustled through the door, jerking Vincent along with him. They briefly heard Sergeant Wedge acknowledge the order with an amused: "Yup, sure thing, boss."

    ¡°How long has she been back? Did they find Tazaro? Was he with her? Please tell me Mom and Tazaro were with her.¡± Micah began in a hushed, hoarse whisper as they briskly made their way across the field. Vincent ineffectively slapped the burly man¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Shut up, Micah!¡± He hissed, looking around at other people that happened to be passing by, hoping they hadn¡¯t overheard. Mere glances were thrown, but everyone else seemed uninterested in the two.

    ¡°Just wait. Seriously. I can¡¯t tell you,¡± He urged. They hustled through the streets while Micah shoved past people and ignored the ¡°hey, asshole, what gives?¡± comments directed his way.

    They carried on through the main street sandwiched between the Southgate and Westside districts, Micah tripping over his feet somewhat as he tried to match Vincent¡¯s vehement pace. He could tell his friend was nervous by the way he kept constant watch over his collar. Micah followed as Vincent deliberately avoided a group of guards chatting among themselves around an open newspaper. Micah took a second to peek at the front cover as he passed; apparently, the press had moved on from the ¡°Westside Death Scandal¡± and onto the next fresh misfortune, though he didn''t catch what the new gossip was.

    ¡°Hey! Vincent! Why are you moving so fast? This isn¡¯t like you!¡± He called, breaking into a brief jog to catch up to Vincent, who had amazingly hustled down the street in his split-second distraction.

    Annoyed at Vincent¡¯s silence, Micah snatched Vincent¡¯s coat, pulled him into a nearby alleyway, and slammed his back against the wall. Vincent hit it with a surprised ¡°oof!¡± and stared at Micah in shock.

    ¡°Damn it, Vincent, you answer me, right now!¡± Micah ordered, huffing.

    Vincent remained stubbornly silent.

    ¡°Can you at least tell me something? Anything? Come on, man, it¡¯s been weeks!¡± Micah pleaded. Vincent opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, looking around, and then to Micah¡¯s confusion, up. Vincent scanned the skies for a moment, panting somewhat from fear, somewhat from physical exertion, not noticing that Micah was looking, too. A ripple of terror flew through Micah as his mind dredged up something terrifying.

    ¡°Hey! What the hell are you looking for?¡± Micah questioned. Vincent snapped his head back and shook it.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. As for what¡¯s going on: I swore on the dead man¡¯s grave that I wouldn¡¯t tell anyone, so I¡¯ll just have to show you when we get there..¡± He insisted once more, leaving Micah standing there with a perplexed look on his face.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Micah blurted as it dawned on him, then ran to catch up with Vincent.

    The walk took less time than Vincent thought it would, and as he paused at his apartment door, he stopped and turned, still panting. He swallowed back spit to wet his dry throat.

    ¡°You have to keep this a secret, alright?¡± Vincent ordered with a nervous look on his face.

    ¡°What, are you being watched?¡± Micah asked, looking over his shoulder, then rolled his eyes at himself. If Vincent was, he wouldn¡¯t have been able to say so out in the open.

    As Vincent fished for his keys, Micah waited, wondering what could possibly be behind the door. Maybe, Vincent had somehow found their bodies in the burned rubble, pulled some whackjob experiment on them, and reanimated their friend from the dead. It was a disturbing thought, and it made him cringe with worry.

    If they were zombies, would they hunger for brains?

    Vincent knocked a particular pattern before sliding his keys into the lock. Vincent opened the door, shuffled Micah inside, and swiftly shut and locked the door behind him. Micah turned to look at Vincent, fearful as he heard the tumble of the deadbolt.

    ¡°Hey, what the¨C

    He stopped when he heard something rustling in the dark bolt down the hallway. Micah whipped around, feeling the hairs on his arms flare and stick up as adrenaline pierced its way up his spine. He cried out in shock as Vincent¡¯s hand gripped his shoulder to move him aside as he stepped further into the room.

    ¡°Guys, it¡¯s alright. It¡¯s just Micah.¡± Vincent called out, flicking the light on. Choking silence lingered for a moment as whatever had dashed out of the living room hesitantly made their mind to step forth.

    Micah watched, stunned, as Tazaro walked out from the hallway with confusion in his eyes and shame on his face.

    ¡°H-hey, Micah, what¡¯s up?¡± Tazaro said, giving a nervous, guilty wave.

    When his brain caught up with him, Micah strode up to him in a few steps, reared back a fist, and punched Tazaro square on the nose. Tazaro cried out and stumbled back, but Micah reached out and snatched Tazaro¡¯s t-shirt to hold him upright. The fact that he was tangible aided in his understanding that Tazaro was alive.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    How, it mattered not at the current moment.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been alive this whole fucking time? You¡¯ve been alive, and you didn¡¯t say anything?¡±

    ¡°Argh! I was going to, but¨C

    ¨CI¡¯ve been mourning your death, you fuckin¡¯ bastard!¡± He barked, shaking the poor man with a tight, painful grip on Tazaro¡¯s arms.

    ¡°Dude, stop!¡± Tazaro barked.

    He attempted to steady himself when Micah obliged, wincing as Micah released the grip that pinched his shirt against his skin. Immediately, he took a step back in case Micah were to grapple him again.

    ¡°We couldn¡¯t.¡± Tazaro finished, managing to steady himself on the firepit. Micah stared at him as though Tazaro had slapped him.

    ¡°Whaddaya mean, you couldn¡¯t?¡± Micah yelled in anger, grasping at Tazaro again and shaking him as though answers would fall from his pockets like loosened coins.

    He stilled and froze as the cold steel of a knife pressed where his kidney rested just beneath. A strained voice demanded he let Tazaro go, and Micah immediately obliged. Wide, nervous, stone-blue eyes darted around the room to examine surroundings in an effort to determine whether or not Tazaro had been held captive, somehow, and he tried not to move his body for fear of piercing his kidney with the sharp blade. As he felt the grab of his shoulder by a hand in a brace, he realized that, if he moved quickly enough, he might be able to disarm the attacker.

    ¡°Sheeva, stop,¡± Tazaro called, worried. ¡°It¡¯s Micah. He¡¯s not a threat.¡±

    ¡°Then why¨CShe growled, grasping tighter on his shoulder and pressing the blade even more against his back. ¡°...is he here?¡±

    Micah swallowed past a dry throat, even more confused.

    ¡°Because, I needed to see¨C

    ¨CJust because he looks like Micah doesn¡¯t mean it is Micah. You forget what Llyud could do. Maybe Zakaraia can do the same,¡± She interrupted.

    While Micah could understand her point of needing to ensure that it was him, he couldn¡¯t understand what she meant by ¡°what Llyud could do.¡±

    ¡°But I am Micah! Micah Yates! Captain of Roussell¡¯s 23rd Battalion! I, I could give you my birthday, and my social, and my address if you¨C

    ¨CAny asshole can memorize that information,¡± She grunted.

    ¡°Sheeva, I brought him here!¡± Vincent barked, catching her attention.

    The blade at Micah¡¯s back shifted in surprise, and Micah stood up even more straightly and sucked in a nervous breath.

    Fingers shifted against the shirt held her grasp as she paused in surprise.

    ¡°What do you mean, ¡®you brought him here? What happened to not bringing people here?¡± She asked, and, by the sounds of it, she had been betrayed somehow. Micah caught a glance at Vincent, finally understanding his hesitance.

    Vincent¡¯s lips were pursed, and he propped himself up on the back of the couch with his arms, sighing heavily as he thought of what to say.

    Slowly, what Vincent had been trying to do dawned on Micah.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t give him a choice. I-I threatened him. I knew he was, uh, hiding something¨CI¡¯ve known him for years, and he always has a stick up his ass when he¡¯s trying to hide something,¡±

    Vincent looked up, offended.

    ¡°I do not!¡± He barked, then sighed and dropped his head.

    ¡°Look, let him go. It¡¯s really Micah,¡± He urged, pushing himself off the couch and walking around to step close to them.

    Micah let out a sigh of relief as the steel, now warm, left his backside. He took a wobbly couple of steps forward, breathing out his nerves, then chuckled.

    ¡°Xelha, warrior-princess, indeed!¡± He laughed, straightening himself out.

    Behind him, the hushed whispers of an argument could be heard. After glancing over his shoulder at Vincent, Micah crossed his arms and kept his back to them, pretending not to be interested, though eavesdropped anyway.

    ¨CDon¡¯t you dare speak to me. You have betrayed my trust!¡± Sheeva hissed, pointing a threatening finger in his face. ¡°On the dead man¡¯s grave, my ass!¡± She barked. Tazaro felt a spot of pride at the use of his ¡°colorful expressions,¡± but held back his laughter. Micah¡¯s eyebrows raised into the ceiling.

    Vincent recoiled sharply at the digit in his face, then, unnatural for the kind doctor, frowned sternly and stood tall.

    ¡°Uh, you know, I¡¯m sure there was a good¨CTazaro began, his protests unheard over Vincent¡¯s raised voice.

    ¡°You should know that I wouldn¡¯t bring him here if it wasn¡¯t absolutely necessary, Sheeva!¡± Vincent uncharacteristically barked, causing Micah to glance at him in surprise.

    The terseness of his furrowed brow ached, and the narrowness of his squinted eyes hurt, not used to harboring such an expression on his face. It wasn¡¯t often that a patient drove him to anger, much less accused him so easily of betraying their trust.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never broken that promise until now, but I had no other choice¨Cso don¡¯t think I break the oath so lightly!¡± He insisted.

    Shocked at his boldness, Sheeva gaped at him with her mouth hung open, blinking a couple of times as she gathered his demeanor. The humility reddened and warmed her cheeks as she considered his convictions. She softened, sighed, and meekly mumbled an apology as she believed Vincent¨Ceverything that he had done thus far and the lengths he had gone to was great proof that he was undoubtedly on their side.

    ¡°My apologies. It was wrong to assume. I¡­I thought¡­¡± She trailed off, unwilling to admit that she had lumped him in with less-honorable folk.

    ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± He drew in a breath through his nose, then sighed. ¡°I understand. You don¡¯t have to give me an explanation.¡± Vincent shrugged off his medical bag and sat down in his chair. He drew in another deep breath, weaved his fingers together, propped his chin upon them, and sighed again.

    ¡°If anything, Micah, you are owed an explanation, and I recommend you be sitting down for this,¡± Vincent suggested, catching Tazaro¡¯s eye and tipping his head towards the couch.

    Tazaro caught the obvious command, and urged Micah to sit on the couch, then sat himself down to lean on the arm of the couch, head propped in a hand as he tapped his foot in nerves.

    Micah finally looked at Sheeva, and his mouth dropped in shock

    The arm sealed in a cast and resting in a sling was unfortunate, but an arm in a cast was nothing he hadn¡¯t seen before. What was more shocking was the apparent wing she had strapped down against her back, complete with feathers that brushed against the ground.

    ¡°Is¨CIs that a wing?¡± Micah blurted in surprise.

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a wing, and it¡¯s not that outlandish; you¡¯re the one who assumed I was joking when I said my father was a Ta¡¯hal.¡±

    ¡°Actually, that was me,¡± Vincent pointed out with a chuckle, finally understanding why Tazaro had seemed so shocked at the time. Sheeva responded to that with a simple ¡°hm,¡± of understanding.

    ¡°Wait, wait,¡± Micah asked, raising a hand and shaking his head to clear his brain of the impossible jargon filtering in through his ears. ¡°Ta¡¯hal? As in ¡®The Mad God¡¯s Army,¡¯ Ta¡¯hal?¡±

    Sheeva sighed, irritated about having to belabor this secret once more.

    ¡°Yes, the very same, and yes, they exist, but there are more important things to worry about.¡± She dismissed, pausing as she thought of the easiest way to summarize. ¡°There¡¯s a man who was pulling the strings behind Llyud¡¯s manipulations. I led Tazaro to an abandoned fortress in the western woods where Mildred was held captive. Llyud and I fought, but the other man intervened and caused Llyud¡¯s head to explode. In my anger, I struck him down, and took him for dead. He¡­he was dead, though I suppose it was a fake¨Ca decoy.¡±

    ¡°After a short recovery, an ally of ours pointed out that the man I thought I had killed was ¡®not so easily killed.¡¯ Now that I think of it, perhaps he¡¯s¡­right.¡± She muttered, feeling a chill sweep over her. She shuddered from it, and shook her head.

    ¡°No. If he can bleed, then surely, he can die.¡± She insisted, scoffing at his presumed immortality.

    ¡°Considering he can just heal himself even with the wounds you gave him, would that work?¡± Tazaro asked in skepticism, crossing his arms to cover up the anger budding in his chest.

    ¡°If he comes back, I¡¯ll hack him to pieces if I have to.¡±

    The air was stagnant for a moment before Sheeva spoke up again, uncomfortable with the heavy pressure.

    ¡°Anyway, I fought Zakaraia so that Tazaro and Mildred could escape to Roussel. I failed to stop him.¡± She sighed again and glanced across the way at Tazaro, though he didn¡¯t look back, staring at the floor with his face scrunched in agony at the mention of his mother¡¯s name.

    ¡°He threatened to kill Mildred and Tazaro after he was done. I charged with everything I had to stop him. He broke my arm, broke my wing, and left me to die while he took off to carry through with his threat. Yes, it was reckless, and yes, it was a losing battle, but I, too, wish it had been worth it,¡± Sheeva stated.

    As frustration from feeling held responsible for things that were out of her hands or for things that happened despite her near-death efforts arose, Sheeva felt the flash of fire crawl up her neck and scowled in distaste.

    ¡°Hate me all you want, but you cannot continue to hold me responsible, Tazaro. I did not break your mother¡¯s neck¨CZakaraia is responsible for that, and I did not drag your mother out into those woods to begin with; Llyud is responsible for that.¡±

    Tazaro¡¯s face scrunched even more, and he dropped his head into his hands.

    ¡°Fuck you,¡± He hissed in a bare whisper, face burning from embarrassment.

    ¡°No, fuck you, Tazaro Chorea!¡± Sheeva snapped, striding over to him. She grabbed at the collar of his shirt and jerked him forward to shove her face in his. ¡°I¡¯m tired of being held responsible for other people¡¯s crimes, and I won¡¯t accept anymore from you! I¡¯m not responsible for your mother¡¯s death, especially considering I did everything I could to stop it!¡±

    Stunned, he stared at her, unable to speak.

    Disgusted with his lack of a response, Sheeva shoved him back into the couch and stepped away from him and towards the fireplace for distance. Unwilling to hear the hushed whispers behind her as Micah began to demand details of Mildred¡¯s death, she traced a sigil into the stone with her finger and cast a muffling spell. Exhausted, she held onto the mantle above the hearthstone for support, and pressed her warm forehead against the cool layer of bricks shielding the walls from fire¡¯s heat.

    The frown ached in her cheeks, and as hot tears pooled in her eyes, she squeezed them shut, though they were somehow cooler than her face as they trailed down her cheeks to plop onto the cotton-fabric of the sling.

    Sheeva wondered what she was doing¨Cwhat she was surely foolish for considering¨Cplanning to train with Tazaro to eventually pursue Zakaraia when he wasn¡¯t even willing to forgive and see that no blame should be placed on her shoulders. Sure, he had a point in stating that perhaps Mildred wouldn¡¯t have been in harm¡¯s way and that none of the events that had come to pass would have happened in the first place if she hadn¡¯t been in Roussel, but to say that she deserved to bear the cross of shame didn¡¯t feel right, nor fair¡­and the longer it dwelled in her aching, spiteful heart, the easier it became to assume the responsibility.

    It was an easy, slippery slope back into the dangerous niche she¡¯d placed herself in before meeting the Chorea family, and to let herself fall so far from progression would only be a slap in the face towards the deceased woman¡¯s memory¡­but as the nagging voice lingered, Sheeva felt her desperate resolve begin to crumble.

    The rationale that no further troubles would have graced the family had Sheeva not been around was a sheer drop into the assumption that she ought not to have existed at all, and that filled her with more fear and dread than facing her own near-death.

    As conversation tickled in her ears, Sheeva vaguely understood that her muffling spell had faltered.

    ¡°Sheeva?¡± Vincent called, bringing her to some semblance of reality.

    She grunted disinterestedly, pushing herself away from the wall to face Vincent. Like Rose would when Sheeva was being temperamental, so too, would Vincent, Sheeva assumed.

    ¡°What?¡± She asked glumly, though didn¡¯t look him in the eye, all too familiar with awaiting a scolding as her skin began to crawl.

    ¡°As promised, I checked on those kids you wanted me to.¡± He began.

    Sheeva blinked, surprised. That wasn¡¯t what she had been expecting of the confrontational man who¡¯d been helping to care for her over the last couple of weeks. His fulfillment of her request and the eagerness to hear that they were faring well in the hopes that there had been something positive had come of her abandoned vigilance served as a tether, and she took a deep, clearing breath.

    Sheeva nodded to show she was following the conversation once more.

    ¡°Thank you, Vincent. How¡­How are they?¡± She asked, clinging to the hope that they were well.

    ¡°I want Micah to take Josef into the barracks. Give him honest work. Help take care of him so that Josef can properly take care of the others.¡± Vincent insisted, glancing back at Micah to ensure he was paying attention, too.

    Micah looked up and over at Vincent, muttering an ¡°oh¡± of sad realization. He gave Sheeva a nervous glance, wondering how she¡¯d react. No doubt, Vincent was about to give her the ugly, but with the expression on his face, Vincent seemed reluctant to. It was an out-of-character thing for the matter-of-fact doctor, but he supposed it was because Sheeva wasn¡¯t just a patient, apparently fast on the way to becoming a friend.

    ¡°I see.¡± Sheeva muttered and sat down on the footrest upon hearing the offer, hissing at a twinge of pain. She grimaced and attempted to move into a comfortable position, settling with an exhausted ¡°pshew¡±

    At the least, she was relieved that they were still alive, and hadn¡¯t been tortured or killed in her absence. Perhaps, unlike Llyud, Zakaraia drew a line at putting children in harm¡¯s way. She frowned as she reminded herself that Llyud himself had been a pawn, and put the wishful thought out of her mind.

    ¡°Under what pretense? Has Josef¡­taken to picking pockets again?¡± She asked, worried that her stern instructions had been ignored once again, though gave an inch of forgiveness. Without her there to guide and teach them, maybe Josef was simply a frightened child trying his best to provide.

    Vincent¡¯s frown deepened, and he pursed his lips together in frustration before raising his head to look her in the eye.

    ¡°No. To provide support for that band of children, Josef has taken to prostitution. He is lucky to have only contracted Mono, but if he continues, he could end up getting something worse.¡±

    They watched a pained, shocked, furious expression mix on Sheeva¡¯s face.

    ¡°That FOOLISH child!¡± Sheeva bellowed as she stood sharply and began to pace, breathing heavily. She teetered, and as she grew dizzy, she took a knee, wincing from more pain and panting slightly, eyes closed to cope. She shifted to sit on the floor and leaned against the footrest, attempting to breathe through her pain and fury. Micah averted his gaze, still amazed by all of their circumstance.

    The room was silent for a few moments as they absorbed their various mind-blowing bits of information.

    Sheeva shifted to sit back on her feet once she caught her breath. Tazaro looked and wondered if she was alright as she stared at the floor in contemplation of something, a saddened look on her face.

    ¡°Micah.¡± She called to him, bringing him out of his thoughts. A shadow of determination and humility careened over her face. Red eyes burned with admonition and longing.

    ¡°Please, take Josef in. Teach him. Watch over him. He-he means well; he¡¯s just misguided. He may be sixteen, but he¡¯s still a child. They all are. They''ve¨Cthey don''t deserve to grow up like that.¡± She defended, a soft, sad glow in her eyes.

    Micah watched as she strained to do what he assumed was a type of bow-down, then looked at Tazaro and Vincent. They were just as perplexed as he was.

    ¡°I-I beg you this favor. Please. They''re only children.¡± She pleaded.

    ¡°Could you-could you get up? This is really kind of weird.¡± He asked, unnerved. Slowly she looked up from her bow, wincing again from the pain.

    ¡°It is weird?¡±

    ¡°Uh, yeah. Very.¡±

    She pushed herself up to sit on the ottoman again.

    "My apologies. I am¨Cach, damn!" She snapped at a wrong movement and grasped at the wound on the side of her chest. "I am quite serious.¡±

    She avoided his gaze again, a thoughtful look on her face as she contemplated the bizarre cultural differences between the temple and the ¡°outside world.¡±

    ¡°Um, as for the kid...sure. I can, uh, do that. ¡®Deserving¡¯ has nothing to do with it. The kid should be treated better.¡± Micah agreed. Sheeva nodded in appreciation.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± She whispered.

    ¡°I am going to rest. I got too riled up.¡± Sheeva muttered, struggling to stand.

    Tazaro stood and offered help with a humbled look on his face, surprised when she hesitantly took it. Micah followed the two with a watchful eye as they made their way to the hallway and disappeared into it.

    ¡°That guy really messed her up, didn¡¯t he?¡± Micah muttered, more to himself than Vincent. Vincent sighed and lay his head on the corner of the arm and the back of his chair.

    ¡°He practically tortured her. I believe he choked her out, but she refuses to talk about that. He damn near killed her.¡± Vincent muttered softly so that Tazaro couldn¡¯t hear him. He still had not disclosed these facts, encouraging that Sheeva would tell Tazaro about it. It would do her well to face her brush with death.

    ¡°Vilg sa,¡± Micah muttered, feeling his stomach churn.

    ¡°Josef and the other kids can be found in an old, abandoned fixer-upper off Dekkir Street. I¡¯ll give you the actual address later, when you¡¯re ready. The kid''s pretty sick right now and probably will be for a few days, but I suggest you get that done as soon as possible. Sheeva can give you more information. Oh, and they have a passphrase system set up. If they ask you where Tinker Owls roost, they roost in the belfry of the clock tower.¡±

    Micah blinked and looked over at him, half-listening, still reeling as he realized that his friends were keeping such a big secret from him.

    ¡°I need a minute. I¡¯m still, uh¡­¡± He paused, trying to gather his thoughts. ¡°You guys were really gonna not tell me¡­¡± He paused, then scoffed as he told himself that he might have done the same if he had been one of the two¨Ca warrior-girl with wings would have been quite a shocking reveal and not something he might have known how to handle.

    ¡°How long have those two been, uh, back here?¡± He asked, nodding his head in their assumed direction.

    Vincent thought for a moment, relieved that Micah wasn¡¯t about to open the ¡°no secrets between childhood friends¡± bombshell. They would address it later if need be, he told himself.

    ¡°About two weeks now. They coincidentally disappeared on the same day that there was an attack on civilians in the western quarter with ¡®unidentified weapons.¡¯ It wasn¡¯t her, and Tazaro can verify. Sheeva posits that Zakaraia or Llyud used a doppelganger that looked like her to pin the blame.¡±

    Micah stared in disbelief, wondering how whoever framed Sheeva found a Cruinian woman matching Sheeva¡¯s general description and who also knew how to wield a sword. It seemed as rare as a golden cluckatrice.

    ¡°Right.¡± He agreed sarcastically, then frowned. ¡°I remember hearing about that from one of the guards. Kagure told me it was a ¡®black-haired woman with wings,¡¯ and I kept telling myself it wasn¡¯t her¨CTazaro wouldn¡¯t have associated with her if so. At least¡­I think so.¡±

    Vincent sighed, thankful that Micah could still keep his mouth shut.

    ¡°The fewer people that know about this, the better. They¡¯re in hiding until Sheeva is better, then they¡¯ll be leaving. Sheeva intends to train him. You should see it; it¡¯s pretty intense and kind of inspiring. At least she knows how to channel hate and anger towards progress.¡±

    Micah looked up, surprised.

    ¡°What? Tazaro¡¯s in hiding too?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m technically dead, so, yes.¡± They jumped and looked over as Tazaro walked back into the living room, arms crossed with a sheepish look on his face.

    ¡°So, uh¡­¡± He cracked a smile and chuckled. ¡°How ya been, Micah?¡±

    Micah huffed and stood, grabbed Tazaro, and pulled him into a hug, shaking him.

    ¡°Vilg, terrible, ya bastard. I, I¡¯m sorry I punched you.¡± He laughed, releasing him and sitting back down on the couch. Tazaro gave an apologetic look and sat down on the footrest.

    ¡°Yeah. For what it¡¯s worth, I am sorry, too.¡± He voiced, then poked at his nose experimentally. It was still tender, though it had stopped bleeding long ago. ¡°You really got me; that hurt like a bitch!"

    Micah smiled, then hummed as he readied himself to ask about Mildred¡¯s death.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, about Mildred. How¡­did it happen?¡± He asked hesitantly.

    As expected, he watched Tazaro¡¯s demeanor crumble and the wince span his face as he shuddered.

    ¡°Llyud tricked Sheeva and kidnapped Mom. We gave chase. Found them in that abandoned fortress in the western forest. Zakaraia...¡± Tazaro grimaced at the visual. ¡°Killed Llyud right in front of her. Made his head explode. She¡¯s still pissed about not getting closure. Probably will be for a long time...¡± He trailed off, then shook his head, intending to get back on track.

    ¡°As she said, Sheeva fought him so Mom and I could get away.¡± Tazaro huffed as his cheeks burned and the pools of tears began. ¡°He, he caught up to us, and-and¨CTazaro stopped and leaned forward to hold his head in his hands, unable to look at either of his friends.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I can¡¯t.¡± He stopped, voice cracking.

    ¡°That¡¯s ok,¡± Micah assured him, doing his best to ignore the restrained weeps and sniffles.

    Sheeva had already bluntly stated how Mildred had died, Micah realized, when she¡¯d confronted Tazaro about whatever accusations Tazaro had made.

    Still, Micah swallowed in fear as his stomach plummeted into his feet. He¡¯d seen his fair share of battle, and no matter how often he witnessed it, the snapping of someone¡¯s neck always disheveled him. In an effort to self-soothe, he told himself that at least it had been quick and that Mildred had not suffered.

    After a respectful silence, Micah cleared his throat and changed the subject.

    ¡°So Sheeva¡¯s training you, huh? Gonna be able to shatter legs with a kick someday or stab someone¡¯s hand to a table?¡± Micah asked, hoping to lighten the gloom.

    Tazaro chuckled and wiped at his eyes.

    ¡°I, I don¡¯t know about that, but yeah. It¡¯s pretty rigorous, even with the limited space we have. Sheeva says we¡¯ll get to the basics of fighting when we get to the temple she was raised in.¡± He sat up and stretched, popping his back and groaning. He¡¯d been hunched over for too long.

    ¡°Ah, I didn¡¯t want to say it earlier, but they kind of have their own strange way of doing things, hence the way she bowed to you. I think.¡± Tazaro explained on Sheeva¡¯s behalf, hoping he was right.

    Micah chuckled, then began to laugh.

    ¡°So Warrior-girl is way cooler than we thought. And, uh...¡± He paused, not wanting to be disrespectful. ¡°Different. Yeah.¡± He nodded, satisfied with the word choice about her wings, not about to bring that up, considering he could barely wrap his mind around everything else they had thrown at him in the last hour.

    ¡°What happened between you two? I thought you were sweet on her.¡±

    Tazaro¡¯s mood soured even more, and he kicked at the carpet in guilt.

    ¡°I¡¯m an asshole,¡± He answered, heart heavy. ¡°I said some¡­pretty awful things that I¨Cwell, I shouldn¡¯t have said in the first place,¡± He reminded himself. There wouldn¡¯t be a need to take anything back, had it not been said at all, and working towards holding his tongue before speaking in anger was a daunting, difficult task.

    As for being sweet on her, that¡¯s another¡­incredibly confusing thing.

    ¡°Honestly, being romantically involved with anyone is the last thing on my mind right now,¡± He denied¡­mostly. ¡°I mean, think about it: I¡¯m-I¡¯m ¡®dead.¡¯ My mom is dead. I can¡¯t go back to work. I''m broke. I¡¯m also about to leave, train, and pursue a psychopath.¡± He rambled, listing off the things he had on his plate with his fingers.

    ¡°That last bit is fucking insane.¡± Tazaro mumbled. He ¡®tsked¡¯ at himself and shook his head, rubbing his temples as his frown deepened into a scowl, because¨Cafter his life had been completely upturned with his mother killed, his remaining family destroyed, not able to return to work and doing something he¡¯d still been able to enjoy, and being proclaimed dead¨Cwhat else could possibly happen to top all of that?

    As Tazaro moped with circumstance, he sighed again.

    ¡°Besides, things are really¡­estranged right now¨Cpart of which is my fault because of what I said, but¡­Sheeva is convinced that she ¡®failed¡¯ even though she was unconscious. And, and she¡¯s right¨Cshe didn¡¯t snap mom¡¯s neck; Zakaraia did.¡±

    They watched his eyes dart back and forth as he thought about something, becoming increasingly worked up and angry. He scoffed and shook his head in confusion.

    ¡°I mean, even if she wasn¡¯t unconscious, she had broken bones! Seriously, how far would she have to have pushed herself¨Cto death? It¡¯s-it¡¯s depressing.¡±

    ¡°You know, I hate to say this, but maybe she intended to fight to the death. She wouldn¡¯t be forced to live with the aftermath. Or, maybe, same as you, she thinks it should have been her. Considering what you two have just been through, I would not be surprised.¡±

    Tazaro blinked sluggishly. His eyes were puffy and swollen. He couldn¡¯t imagine broaching the grim subject to Sheeva, but perhaps it would be in their best interests to attempt to talk about it. At the very least, it might give way to her allowing him to finally apologize for his harsh, unfair criticism.

    ¡°You think so?¡±

    Micah crossed his arms as he thought about it more and nodded to himself.

    ¡°Yeah.¡± He reinforced.

    ¡°It¡¯ll take time, but you¡¯ll be fine. You have us. You and Sheeva have this, uh, ¡®shared trauma,¡¯ so to speak.¡± Vincent added. ¡°I think you guys need to sit and talk. Figure some things out, particularly the ''who''s'' and ''what''s'' to blame.¡±

    Tazaro accepted Micah''s words with a nod, a small, tired expression on his face. He still found himself doubtful that Sheeva would be willing to open up about everything that had transpired, but thanks to Vincent and Micah, he felt encouraged to try. It was a spark of hope he hadn¡¯t felt in far too long.

    A deep-chested yawn broke him out of thought, and Tazaro rubbed at his eyes.

    ¡°I think I should try to sleep. Micah, you¡¯re in my spot.¡± He muttered.

    Micah stood, surprised.

    ¡°You got kicked out of your own room?¡± He blurted. Tazaro shook his head as he lay down with his back to them.

    ¡°She needs the space for her wing.¡±

    Tazaro murmured a ¡°goodnight,¡± grabbed the blanket thrown around the back of the couch, and pulled it over himself. The room spun slightly, and their voices warbled in his brain as Tazaro let go and slipped into sleep.

    Vincent stood and meandered into the kitchen to pour himself the rare glass of wine, offering one to Micah when he pulled around the corner. After stepping onto the balcony, Vincent ensured the sliding glass door was secure before turning out to face the street with a long sigh.

    The dead-of-night silence lingered between the two for a moment as Micah collected his thoughts.

    ¡°So¨Cyou were just gonna leave me out of the loop, huh? Make me believe that Tazaro was dead? That everyone was dead?¡± Micah blurted, finally allowing himself to ask after a sip of the strong wine. The furtive look that flashed on Vincent¡¯s face before he gave a guilty sigh made Micah feel slightly worse.

    ¡°We didn¡¯t know what was right to do. We might have said something eventually, but neither Sheeva nor Tazaro can handle all the extra attention right now. Also, the man they¡¯re planning to pursue is extremely dangerous, and the ¡®fewer people that knew, the better,¡¯ we figured.¡± Vincent explained. "We are trying our best to keep everyone else safe."

    Micah, stunned, sat back against the folding chair he¡¯d sat down in and stared, wide-eyed, at the apartment building across from them.

    ¡°According to Sheeva, he read her mind and threatened people from the temple she grew up in. He manipulated Llyud into using Mildred as bait. He told her he was off to find Tazaro and his mother with the intent of killing them before leaving her behind, broken and unable to move. He¡¯s sadistic. He¡¯s¡­he¡¯s textbook psychopath, and I don¡¯t think we can accurately predict what he¡¯ll do next.¡± Vincent continued. He shivered from an eerie chill tingling up his spine as he recalled how paranoid they had been the first week after their arrival. Tazaro had only begun opening the window outside his bedroom to bring fresh air into the musty room, and it had taken days of persuasion.

    Micah¡¯s eyes widened, and he looked towards the inside of the apartment.

    ¡°He really could have just killed all of them, huh?¡± He muttered slowly, feeling a sudden chill of the night air. He crossed his arms to warm them. ¡°I, I¡¯m glad he didn¡¯t.¡±

    "Hopefully, he believes them to be dead, but considering how he left them behind to suffer, I''m doubtful, and so is Sheeva," Vincent muttered. He watched the red liquid swirl around in his glass as he swiveled it carefully, then sipped again. "She''s right to be, I think. I''ve heard of massacres with the caliber of a small army on the way to Cruinia, but just because he is heading there doesn''t necessarily mean he won''t double-back."

    Micah clicked his tongue, finally understanding what had gotten their armies riled up and anxious. It made him even more terrified, knowing that entire towns seemingly ripped from the ground or demolished by black fire was at the hands of one man rather than a mysterious army that Vivroa''s military had never seen before.

    "I see," He muttered, conflicted. While the information Vincent just told him would be extremely helpful to their plight, he couldn''t disclose the information to the board without sounding either insane or being booted from his post, and considering all that he''d just agreed to do, he couldn''t afford the demotion. Micah downed the glass in three hefty gulps, then sighed noisily.

    "So about those kids: you can bet your ass I''ll take them in. Consider it the least I can do. If someone comes knocking for ''em, I''ll give whoever it is a bowl full of hell."

    Vincent smiled.

    ¡°I believe it, man. But, uh¡­¡± He paused, wondering if he should remind Micah who he might be dealing with. He decided against it, considering that Micah probably already knew what Tazaro and Sheeva would be going against. "Just to be sure: you''re really gonna take some strangers in?"

    "Please. I''ve trained thirty-year-old soldiers who seemed less determined than that sixteen-year-old! How hard could that be?"

    Vincent chuckled, recalling some of the stories that Micah had regaled them with over the occasional dinner, then tipped his glass.

    ¡°Good luck, Micah. I¡¯ll help you as best I can.¡±

 Chapter 18: Tyler

    Tazaro waited on the couch, rapidly drumming his fingers and tapping his foot in nerves as he anxiously anticipated Tyler barging through the door like a madman out of jail. The letter he wrote Tyler explained most things, but in a pit of despair, he crumpled it up and clenched it with a nervous, sweaty fist. After draft "three-hundred-fifty," Vincent agreed to bring Tyler to the apartment instead for the both of them to talk things out¨Cwith the promise that he would retreat to Tazaro¡¯s bedroom to look after Sheeva or to his own room to bury himself in whatever book struck his fancy at the time.

    Tazaro uncrumpled the latest draft and smoothed it out, reminding himself of everything he wanted to say. Most of all, Tazaro wanted to tell Tyler he was sorry, though Vincent insisted he was not at fault; things happened the way they did, and while Tazaro couldn¡¯t change them during the moment, he still fought to change them afterward.

    He sighed as he saw the blue ink had smudged all over the page and onto his now sweaty, sticky, blue-tinted palm. Even when not working with bastard printing presses, he still managed to get ink all over his hands. He began to chuckle at the fact, then relished in the curl of his face as the chuckle bubbled over into laughter.

    He froze and made to bolt for the hallway as a knock sounded on the door, but as "shave-and-a-haircut" rapped out, Tazaro settled. He felt his eyes droop from the rush of adrenaline as he let out his shaky breath and lay against the back of the couch. When the door opened, he peered over the edge of it in nerves, still not quite ready to face the look of disappointment Tyler would hold after being led to believe Tazaro to be dead for two weeks.

    Tazaro¡¯s face brightened as he heard Jax¡¯s bark coupled with the jingle of the nametag on the dog¡¯s green collar and the multitude of thumps as his three tails thwacked against the furniture. The overjoyed creature whimpered with thrill and hopped up on hind legs to barrel into Tazaro and lick furiously at his face.

    ¡°Wow, Jax, I missed you, too!¡±

    ¡°I thought yeh hated ¡®im.¡± Tyler¡¯s gruff voice stated behind him. Tazaro turned around in his seat, a pained, apologetic look on his face. He pushed Jax off gently and stood to walk around the couch to face him, wearing an ashamed scowl and droop of his shoulders.

    ¡°Tyler, I¡­¡± He began, then pursed his mouth shut as he witnessed all the things he wanted to say go up in smoke. His head dropped further as he wrenched his eyes closed and forced a strained, painful ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± as he began to sob.

    "No, don''t you dare!" Tyler grabbed Tazaro¡¯s shoulders and pulled him into a chest-crushing hug. Tazaro couldn¡¯t see over Tyler¡¯s shoulders, but he was sure he heard Vincent call to Jax, who¡¯d been running in ecstatic circles around the furniture and beckon him down the hallway.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to tend to Sheeva,¡± Vincent announced as he disappeared down the hall.

    ¡°How long have yeh been¨C

    ¨Ctwo weeks, maybe three, now. I¡¯m so sorry.¡± He apologized again. Tyler squeezed Tazaro even more.

    ¡°Why din¡¯t yeh say anything?¡±

    Tazaro expected to hear bitter anger in Tyler¡¯s voice and had fully prepared himself for the chiding bitterness, but, when he noticed what seemed to be understanding, he scowled at himself.

    Shane on him for even thinking such things!

    As reality crashed, Tazaro slowly realized that Tyler had always fought to understand why they were at odds¨Ceven when they argued about the lamest things.

    ¡°We needed to be safe,¡± Tazaro answered. He felt Tyler nodding on the top of his head.

    ¡°Safe?" He asked, surprised and recalling the instance when Sheeva had not returned for the need to make sure everyone was "safe." He had a feeling the two instances were related to one another.

    "Heh, ok," he chuckled, then cleared his throat.

    "Okay, so: safe.¡± Tyler grabbed Tazaro¡¯s shoulders and pushed him back to look him in the face. ¡°Are yeh safe now?¡± He asked, concerned. Tazaro felt the screwy smile on his face at the relief he felt that Tyler cared so much. He nodded as well as he could manage, his brain still struggling to keep up with him.

    ¡°I think so. I hope so. I mean¨Cwe haven''t heard or been shown otherwise.¡±

    Tyler nodded and huffed in relief, pulled Tazaro back in for another tight hug, and began to cry. Tazaro braced himself in a small stance as he tried to support Tyler as he crumbled and buried his face in Tazaro¡¯s shoulder.

    ¡°Thank the gods, thank the Lady¨Cwhatever god or goddess helped spare yeh, thank ¡®em!¡±

    Tazaro hid his skeptic scowl from his stepfather''s eyes, certain it would cause an issue regarding Tazaro''s lack of faith.

    Tyler composed himself and broke away to cup Tazaro¡¯s face.

    ¡°Look at yeh: alive n¡¯ well! I kin¡¯t believe it!¡± He set his hands on Tazaro¡¯s shirt and shook him, and Tazaro had to brace himself for the ruggedness of this, too. Tyler straightened out and looked towards the back rooms, likely for Mildred.

    ¡°Where¡¯s-where''s yer Mom, T?¡± He asked, face curling and lifting with hope, eyes downcast with fear. "Where''s Millie?"

    Tazaro barked out a strained "wait!" as Tyler went to hurry towards the back of the apartment. He grabbed Tyler¡¯s wrists but didn¡¯t move the man¡¯s hands off his shoulders. He¡¯d need the support in a few seconds.

    ¡°She¡­¡± His voice caught in his throat as he decided last-minute he didn¡¯t want to tell him. At least, not that she was just dead. ¡°She gave her life for us, Tyler. For-for Sheeva and I.¡±

    Tazaro hissed as Tyler¡¯s hands gripped his shoulders so tightly his skin pinched beneath the man¡¯s paws. Tyler shook him again with the fabric of his shirt roughly enough that he heard a tear form in it somewhere, and Tazaro gulped, fearful that Tyler would do something psychotic, like throw him against the wall in a rage. Instead, the man gave a deep-chested bellowing wail.

    ¡°Yer lying!¡± He seethed as he trembled with rage. ¡°Yer lyin¡¯ to me!¡± Tyler pleaded.

    ¡°I¡¯m¨CI¡¯m not,¡± Tazaro stated as adamantly as he could with a frog croaking in his throat. He and Sheeva lacked proof, and the speculation of Mildred having made a deal was still up for debate. For now, it seemed that, yes, Mildred had given her life for the both of them since Zakaraia had failed to kill Sheeva and had not harmed Tazaro, though he certainly could have.

    ¡°Oh, my sweet Millie! My Millie,¡± he wept, crumbling to his knees at Tazaro¡¯s feet. His hands dropped from Tazaro¡¯s shoulders, but Tazaro caught them and held fast.

    Tyler silenced mid-sob and shook with rage, clenching Tazaro¡¯s hands in large fists that made Tazaro wince from pain.

    ¡°What happened? Who did it?¡± Tyler growled threateningly. ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°I, I¡¯m not sure you want to¨C

    ¨Cdamnit, boy! Yeh kin¡¯t tell me anything I haven¡¯t seen before! Yeh know what happened to Gus, and I¡¯ve seen men killed, torn to pieces on the battlefield! Good friends, dismembered! Good soldiers, holding their entrails and¨CVilg, just tell me!¡± He barked, then softened at Tazaro¡¯s terrified, saddened gaze. Greying amber eyes looked between orange, and when Tyler calmed his frantic panting and hung his head, he sighed and sniffled.

    ¡°Just tell me, please,¡± Tyler begged.

    ¡°Sheeva fought a man to buy Mom and me time to run. She fell unconscious, and he caught up to us. Zakaraia snapped her neck.¡±

    Somehow, and to Tazaro¡¯s surprise, this calmed Tyler more, though the older man still seemed in shock.

    Tazaro guided him to the couch and helped him sit down on it. Tyler lay back and appeared as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

    ¡°It was quick, then. She didn¡¯t suffer.¡± He sighed, though more so to himself, it seemed.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± He began, then huffed in relief. ¡°I¡¯m so glad she didn¡¯t suffer,¡± He sighed, smiling. ¡°I¡¯d been thinking this whole time she suffered in her final moments. Screamin¡¯, callin¡¯ fer help. Fer yeh, fer me. Hell, even fer Sheeva. But knowin¡¯...¡± He paused, and looked Tazaro from head to toe, seeming further relieved that Tazaro was safe and well. ¡°Knowin¡¯ it was to protect you, an¡¯ that it was quick, that helps. She would¡¯ve, too¨Coffered her life for those she loved.¡±

    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    Tazaro looked down at his feet, unsure of what to say.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¨C

    ¨CNo, don¡¯t. Don¡¯t think for one minute I blame yeh. Don¡¯t blame yeh fer nothin¡¯.¡± Tyler interrupted, pointing his finger at Tazaro¡¯s face. Tazaro flinched briefly, surprised. ¡°An¡¯ on that note, yeh kin tell Sheeva I don¡¯t blame her, neither.¡± He added.

    Tazaro frowned and looked at his hands, folded in his lap as he sat on the footrest of the matching yellow chair. He looked up as a glint flashed in his eye, finding Tyler turning about a coin in his fingers. Considering how big Tyler¡¯s paws were, Tazaro was impressed with the dexterity he showed off as the coin fell and rolled over his knuckles.

    ¡°Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference,¡± Tyler stated, sighing heavily and closing his eyes as he lay his head back.

    ¡°Three weeks ago, I came close to flushing...¡± He paused, working through the math in his head. ¡°Sixteen years down the drain. I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t. Mildred wouldn¡¯t want that."

    Tyler hummed his thanks and shoveled the coin back into his pocket then stood. Tazaro stood too, feeling odd and out of place.

    ¡°So¡­the only thing I can do now is be here for yeh. Millie would want me to do that¨Cand I want to do that. Yer a damn good son, and I¡¯m so proud of yeh,¡± Tyler praised, pulling Tazaro into a tight hug. "I love yeh, and I''m so grateful you are alive, Tazaro."

    Tazaro broke and trembled as he squeezed his teary eyes shut. His arms ached with the effort poured into his big around Tyler''s torso, and as he wept into Tyler''s shoulder, Tyler soothed the mourning man with soft hushes and a hand ruffling Tazaro''s chestnut hair.

    After a while, Tyler spoke.

    "Yeh said Sheeva fought the man. Is she here?" He asked. Tazaro slowly nodded, wondering how to gently tell Tyler that Sheeva likely wouldn''t want to be seen at the moment.

    "She''s resting. She was¨Cis in pretty bad shape." Tazaro answered in a hushed voice, hoping Tyler would leave it at that.

    ¡°If it¡¯s alright, I¡¯d like to see her anyway. She saved yer life. She fought for yer mother¡¯s. I¡¯d like to thank her for that.¡± Tyler insisted. Tazaro had a worried look on his face.

    ¡°Um¡­¡± He struggled to find something else to say that would veer Tyler from wanting to see Sheeva, but he was too stunned by everything else.

    ¡°If yer worried about battle-wounds, I¡¯ve seen more than my fair share, and yeh kin just¨C

    ¨CNo, no, that¡¯s not it!¡± Tazaro insisted, glancing towards his room with a guilty face. ¡°Look, let me ask her first. She¡¯s¡­¡± He trailed off again. How could he possibly say Sheeva had wings? "She''s probably really embarrassed. I¡­know I would be," he admitted, feeling oddly extrospective.

    Tazaro budged as soon as Tyler nodded in agreement, a humbled look on his face as he thought about something. Maybe, he was putting himself in her shoes and recalling what it was like to be lying around in oversized clothes, enduring itchy bandages, and having to deal with getting sponge baths.

    ¡°Wait here for a moment.¡± He muttered before heading towards his room. He rapped his knuckles on the door in the same fashion Vincent would when entering the house, pausing before turning the handle.

    ¡°You decent?¡± He asked, just to be sure. He had almost walked in while Vincent was changing the bandages on her chest yesterday morning.

    Instead of answering outright, Sheeva opened the door from the other side, peering out at him through the crack in the door. When she saw he was alone, she ushered him in.

    Vincent looked up from giving Jax all the petting the dog begged for. The three-tailed dog had a giant smile on its face.

    ¡°How did it go?¡± He asked. Tazaro smiled and nodded, but as he reminded himself of Tyler¡¯s request, his face fell.

    ¡°So far, good," Tazaro answered, though unable to meet Sheeva''s eyes. The fact that he hadn''t yet apologized had begun to form a substantial block in his guts.

    Rather than engage eye contact and endure a piercing gaze, he crossed his arms and stared at the shutters still closed over the window. He wondered if he would ever be able to sleep with the windows open again, fearing that the hot summer months would be absolute murder.

    "Tyler wants to see you, Sheeva. He¡¯s pretty adamant about it. I, uh, tried to tell him you were resting. It didn¡¯t sway him in the slightest.¡±

    Sheeva sighed, then attempted to cross her arms. Unable to, she reached up and began to fidget with a lock of her hair. A bittersweet smile broke through her usual frown.

    ¡°Do you think he would accept¡­¡± She gestured to her wing with a hand.

    Tazaro glanced, frowned, and took a deep breath.

    ¡°Honestly? I don¡¯t know. I can only hope so.¡± He answered, feeling his shoulders droop as the uncertainty welled in his gut.

    ¡°I can be ready with some diazepam if you like. Put Tyler to sleep if he takes it badly.¡± Vincent offered. Tazaro snorted.

    ¡°You¡¯d probably need a lot of it. He¡¯s a bulky guy.¡± He gave a small chuckle, then waved it off. ¡°No. No, I leave the decision up to you, Sheeva.¡±

    Sheeva took as deep of a breath as she could, tutted at something, and turned to grab the patchwork quilt Mildred had requested for Tazaro for a birthday, attempting to wrap it around herself. She barely had the mobility to get it around the unbound shoulder.

    By way of silent apology, Tazaro stepped forward, reached for the quilt, and draped the blanket around her shoulders, covering the wing as well as he could. He deliberately ignored the sidelong glance Vincent threw his way. She paused at the door and took another deep breath to psyche herself up.

    ¡°Best to face our demons, isn¡¯t it?¡± Sheeva muttered.

    He followed her, stopping to trap Jax in his room. The last thing they needed was the big, fluffy thing toppling Sheeva and causing more recovery time.

    Tyler stood as they stepped out, a surprised look on his face at Sheeva¡¯s state.

    ¡°Damn, kid! I knew yeh were tough, but this guy did a number on yeh!¡± He blurted. Sheeva avoided his gaze, pouting so hard her lips pressed into a thin, almost invisible line.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Tyler. I could not keep¨C

    ¨CNah. Nah, don¡¯t start with that. C¡¯mere. I know yer not one fer hugs, but¡­¡± Tyler hurried to capture her in a big-armed, gentle bearog-hug. ¡°Take a moment and appreciate yer alive, Sheeva. Yeh saved my son. Thank you fer that. Yeh fought like hell for Mildred. That¡¯s honorable.¡±

    ¡°But, Mildred¨CSheeva stopped and coughed a little as Tyler squeezed a little tighter, as though to make a point.

    ¨CYeh fought like hell for my family,¡± He stated, determined. ¡°What happened after yeh fell¡­happened, and there¡¯s nothin¡¯ yeh kin do to change that. Millie went quick, and that¡¯s comforting to me. And, whatever this is,¡± He gestured to Sheeva¡¯s wing. ¡°If it helped yeh fight like hell, then good. Considering things I¡¯ve done, who am I to pass judgment on others? Nah. I¡¯d be a hypocrite.¡±

    Sheeva settled and returned his hug as well as she could.

    ¡°I believe you. Thank you.¡± She whispered, voice soft and tender. Tyler nodded in return and patted the back of her head.

    As Tazaro seemed to relax and let go of a tense, worried breath, Tyler released Sheeva from his held-back hug, and she sighed, relief shining on her face.

    ¡°So. Yeh kids are in hiding, huh? From who? Or...what, I suppose, given all the things I¡¯ve heard and now, this.¡±

    Sheeva moved around to sit on the couch, clutching to the arm of the thing to ease herself down.

    ¡°For now, Zakaraia. As soon as I am able, Tazaro and I will head to Malfa Temple and train there. Tazaro has been assumed dead.¡± She answered. Tyler sat in Vincent¡¯s chair, and Tazaro sat on the footrest, a sheepish look on his face.

    ¡°What about Llyud?¡± Tyler asked, surprised that Sheeva would give up on her search so readily, though, as he considered the state that Zakaraia left her in, he decided her priorities had changed. Sheeva sighed and leaned her head on her palm.

    ¡°Llyud is dead. Zakaraia killed him.¡±

    ¡°Mm. I see.¡±

    Tyler, Tazaro, and Sheeva fell silent, each thinking to themselves.

    Sheeva still seemed to seethe with animosity, though Tazaro felt it was a little less vibrant than it had been a couple of weeks ago. Perhaps she had taken his advice and found solitude in the fact that Llyud was dead, and that whether it was by her hand or Zakaraia¡¯s did not matter.

    Tyler huffed and smiled tearfully, a relieved expression on his face.

    ¡°I really am glad yeh two are still alive. Kin¡¯t tell yeh how happy that makes me. Does Rin know?¡± He asked. Tazaro shook his head.

    ¡°No. No, and I think it''s best not to tell him. The fewer people that know, the better. Perhaps we can bluff and have Zakaraia think we both, uh, died in the forest.¡± He explained. The more he said it, the more comfortable the idea became.

    Tyler nodded and frowned.

    ¡°He must be dangerous, then, for yeh to consider playing dead.¡±

    ¡°He can do things no other Sferran can do. Not even myself.¡± Sheeva put in.

    Another silence fell before Tyler spoke up.

    ¡°When yeh¡¯ve healed, Sheeva, I¡¯ll help smuggle yeh both outta here.¡± He offered. They looked at him, surprised.

    ¡°What? I know a thing or two about breakin¡¯ the law,¡± He grunted. ¡°Besides, don¡¯t yeh dare think yeh two are headin¡¯ out without sayin¡¯ goodbye!¡± He argued, pointing at both of them. Sheeva chewed on her lip, as that was what she planned to do. A quiet, unnoticeable slip-away.

    ¡°Risking your reputation to smuggle us out is not necessary.¡± She decided.

    Tyler took a deep breath and softened.

    ¡°At least say goodbye before yeh leave. I assume I won¡¯t be seeing either of yeh ever again?¡±

    Sheeva chuckled wistfully and shook her head slowly.

    ¡°I cannot say how long we will be gone. It could take a long time to train¨Cand, longer still¨Cto be ready to set out and pursue Zakaraia. Of course, Tazaro, you are free to do as you choose. I am not forcing you to do anything. All I can do is show you¡­ a way.¡± She stated, as though giving him a chance to back out. Tazaro frowned.

    He hadn¡¯t quite grasped how he felt about having new abilities. Sure, the idea was ¡°cool,¡± but the thought of trying to learn about them alone put a brick of unease in his gut. What if he screwed up a spell and blew himself up?

    ¡°I have¨CHe stopped himself. He wasn¡¯t forced; he was willing, and his word choice needed to reflect the idea, especially since Sheeva took things so seriously. ¡°I want to.¡± He finished, determined. ¡°Besides, I wouldn¡¯t have taken your advice and started training like I am if I wasn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, yeh kin be stubborn like that.¡± Tyler pointed out with a huff. Tazaro opened his mouth to protest, but he scoffed and felt his lips curl in a smile.

    ¡°Gee, thanks.¡± He chuckled.

    ¡°I¡¯m serious. It¡¯s a good thing. Yeah, we fought a lot growin¡¯ up, but I¡¯m proud of the man yeh¡¯ve become. Yer a damn good kid, and I mean that.¡±

    Tazaro felt the overwhelming humility and dropped his head.

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    When Tyler began to question Sheeva about what type of things she had Tazaro doing, Tazaro stood and released Jax from his room, guiding him by the collar to the living room so that he didn¡¯t immediately pounce on Sheeva. Jax kept his head propped in Tazaro¡¯s lap as he scratched behind his ears, tails thumping on the floor as the three of them talked well into the small hours of the night.

 Chapter 19: Of Thunderstorms and Philosophies

    Spring¡¯s weather barreled into summer in a fury over the following week. Lightning flashed and illuminated the town as it struck the lightning rods on the clocktower, and Sheeva smiled as the sight invigorated her senses. As the rolling thunder followed and shook the windows, she let go of a chuckle and squeezed her hand around the chemical flask that she used to make some tea.

    She would get a much better vantage point from the hillside beyond the town and be able to revel in the feel of the winds as they tore through her hair and pierced the buffer of her clothes, but she was unable to walk that far. Yet, She fought to remind herself.

    Walking distance aside, she would risk getting either her cast wet or her bandages. The latter might set her back if wet; her wounds risked getting infected since they were still healing.

    Sheeva missed taking an actual bath and longed to soak for as long as she liked in hot water, scrub her own skin with a loofah and soap, and wash her own hair. Vincent had been assisting her with sponge baths, and while it was necessary, she could not wait to regain her independence. He assured her that she was free to do it herself as soon as she had the strength.

    She held the flask under her nose and took a nice whiff of the dark green tea to replace the stuffy dust from the light rain that fell over Roussell¡¯s rooftops when the storm started. She wrinkled her nose in distaste at the smell of rain on cobblestone streets.

    Instead, Sheeva preferred the scent of rain on grass or in the forest. It did not cause her eyes to itch and her nose to run. She took another sniff of the tea and sipped at it. When it passed her lips, the copious amount of honey and lavender that she added to it hit her taste buds, eliciting a small smile as the flavor tingled her nose. She hummed in contentedness and played with a flower between her teeth.

    The rain fell hard enough that deep puddles formed in the street, and she watched the passersby try desperately to evade them. She cracked a smile as a child jumped into one, ignoring his parent¡¯s groans and immediate scolding as he continued to stamp and splash with tiny feet.

    She was thankful to savor the moment: the thrilling stimulation of nature¡¯s rage and the contradiction of a cold night with warm tea and a blanket around her shoulders. Her stomach flipped as her brain reminded her that she was almost unable to.

    Her gaze fell to a random rooftop, no longer fixed on the lightning, and the thunder faded as the shaking thought shattered her peace. She coughed as her throat tightened, and her jaw clenched as she saw Zakaraia¡¯s face in her mind¡¯s eye. Her grasp on the flask hardened, and she scowled as a pit of hate welled in her gut, unaware of tears that trickled down her cheeks.

    As the blanket became too hot for her to handle, she shrugged it off and unbuttoned the buttons of her shirt as well as she could, and fanned herself with the loose fabric of the shirt. Sheeva forced a breath, sucking in the air and feeling it expand her lungs. It served as a tether, and she slowly let it out again as she searched the rooftops to count something.

    A chimneystack became the first thing she latched onto, and she began the process Vincent had suggested for her to use, counting five similar things and taking a deep breath with each discovery. She could not believe how well it worked...when it worked.

    A few times, it failed, and she paced the room as much as she could stand to alleviate her panic. Plus, there were few things in Tazaro¡¯s room that varied, as he seemed to hide his accomplishments or ideas as opposed to flaunting them freely, as his mother had. He seemed ashamed and unsure of himself, whereas Mildred had been incredibly supportive and proud. Sheeva often found herself wondering why he shied up as he did.

    Another lightning strike flashed. Sheeva blinked, staring at the blue glow of the lightning rod as it absorbed the energy. As she slowly returned to reality, she found her grip on the flask had faded, and it dangled in her lap, threatening to fall. She returned her hold on it and sipped, taking another inhale to imbed the scent in her brain.

    Sheeva set the flask down on the floor and stood to lean over the balcony rail, sticking her head out into the rain beyond the shelter of the balcony roof. The raindrops were cool, then warm as they carried away the intense hot flash that had flooded her head. She let out a sigh of relief and looked up to the sky to feel it cry with her.

    Thick, dark, billowy clouds that mourned with her and sympathized with her obscured the starry night sky and its two brimming moons. Still, she smiled at them as a bright, purple lightning strike illuminated the rough, drab, and grey clouds.

    Resolve replenished, she formed some seals and rested her hand on her thigh to test her wound healing ability. The green light that usually shined brightly was a dull glimmer. Still, she told herself it was better than nothing. Hopefully, it would work well enough that she could at least walk to the hillside on the outskirts of town within a couple of weeks, still eager to see the purple lightning and hear the thunderstorms from a better vantage point.

    If she could fly, she would have preferred to watch the storm from the top of the clock tower. That would have been a hell of a rush. The prospect made the hair on her arms stand as excitement coursed through her. If she ever had the opportunity, she told herself she would.

    She turned her head as the balcony door slid open. Tazaro stepped out, carrying a chair under his arm, announcing his presence with a soft "Hey."

    His chestnut hair draped around his head, weighted from its natural wave by dampness. She found herself mildly envious of his privilege to bathe in solitude, but it was short-lived, quickly replaced by pity; he had bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, and Sheeva often heard him pacing in the middle of the night after waking from a nightmare. She had her nightmares, too, though apparitions of Zakaraia plagued hers, not a dead mother. Recounts of Rose¡¯s death had not played in her mind for a while, and somehow, she felt a twisted sense of relief from the fact.

    ¡°May I sit with you?¡± He asked. Sheeva nodded in response. She looked back as a couple hurried across the street and into their home to escape the rain.

    ¡°How long have you been out here?¡± Tazaro asked. She heard the clink of a glass beaker as Tazaro set his tea on the floor next to hers.

    Sheeva settled, sat back down in her chair, grabbed the flask, and rested it in her lap. Surprisingly, the tea was still warm, and it soothed her cold, numb fingers.

    ¡°Since it began.¡± She answered, struggling to get the blanket back over her shoulders.

    ¡°Want help with that?¡± Tazaro offered. She fought with it some more, then gave in with a nod of her head.

    ¡°Please. I think it has twisted upon itself.¡±

    He stood and took it from her. Indeed, it had twisted on itself. Tazaro shook it straight and wrapped it around her shoulders. When his hand brushed her hair on accident, he found it was wet.

    ¡°You¡¯re soaked.¡± He pointed out.

    ¡°I am aware.¡± She snapped. Sheeva took a calming breath, realizing that she had sounded unnecessarily rude, though it was merely fallout. ¡°My apologies for my shortness. I...needed to cool down. I was having a moment.¡± She admitted, forcing a sip of tea.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry. Did I interrupt?¡± His apology was sincere, and she heard it in his voice.

    She shook her head and leaned forward, then winced. The action still hurt her chest. She leaned back and lay her head on the back of the chair.

    ¡°No. It is better that you did.¡±

    ¡°Mm.¡±

    They stared at the scene beyond the frame of the balcony. Another bolt of lightning struck the tower, and Sheeva listened to him count aloud to himself. He got to ¡°eleven¡± when the rumble of thunder hit and smiled, his face alight with fascination.

    ¡°Heh. I always thought we were farther away from the clock tower than that. We¡¯re only a couple of miles away.¡± He stated, watching for the next lightning strike.

    Sheeva turned and looked at him in wonder.

    ¡°You know that just by counting seconds between lightning and thunder?¡± She asked. A sheepish grin formed on his face as he chuckled at himself.

    ¡°Ah, yeah. You can use it to figure out distance. I, uh, enjoy knowing weird things like that. I guess.¡± He answered. His stomach tied itself in knots as he wondered if he was coming off as really strange after she remained silent for a while. When he looked at her in nerves, she held a contemplative look on her face that surprised him.

    ¡°How do you do that?" She asked. He blinked, not expecting her to ask.

    ¡°There¡¯s...a discrepancy between light and sound. You can use it to determine distance. Whether it¡¯s totally accurate or not, I¡¯m not sure, but it seems to work well if you¡¯ve got nothing else.¡± He responded, apprehensively waiting for derisive laughter to follow.

    ¡°Is it an easy formula, or is it more of that bizarre math?¡± She pressed. It seemed like something she could use in the future.

    He tilted his head in curiosity. No laughter? No...disinterested, judgemental scowl?

    ¡°No. It¡¯s pretty simple. Divide the seconds between sight and sound by five, but again, it¡¯s an approx¨CYou really want to know?¡± He blurted, double-checking. She shot him an annoyed look.

    ¡°If I did not want to know, I would not ask.¡± She insisted.

    Taken-aback, Tazaro silenced and leaned in his chair, arms crossed.

    ¡°Right, you¡¯d said that before. I still can¡¯t believe how blunt you are sometimes.¡± He stated, mildly impressed.

    ¡°You would prefer I waste time with idle prattle?¡± Sheeva huffed, crossing one leg over the other. She regretted the action, hissed from the pain, and dropped her leg.

    ¡°With ¡®idle prattle,¡¯ huh?¡± Tazaro asked, eyebrows raised at her choice of words. He let out a small chuckle, an amused smile on his face.

    She shifted around on the chair for a moment, huffed in discomfort and annoyance, then settled on a sprawled position that Tazaro had to admit was not something women did. At all. Granted, most women wore skirts or dresses, not shorts or pants, so they lacked the liberty to copy this similar stance. He looked away as he realized her shirt was unbuttoned and found himself thinking that Sheeva did not give half a damn.

    Another flash of light hit, and Sheeva began to count. She did the math in her head and voiced her answer. He confirmed it.

    ¡°Good. Seems easy enough. Arithmetic is...not a strong point for me. I prefer reading and learning about plants and animals.¡± She confided with a small gentle look on her face.

    Tazaro hummed in response. Math was something he was decent with, though differentials and calculus had damn near rendered him insane.

    He laughed as the words ¡°idle prattle¡± resounded in his head. He felt his skin crawl with the icy, threatening What she sent his way.

    ¡°That was-that was just my horrible timing. Sorry¨Cthe idle prattle bit is still amusing.¡±

    She tutted and tried to cross her arms again, forgetting that one was still bound to a sling underneath the unbuttoned shirt she wore. She subtly buttoned it back up.

    ¡°Why is that so amusing?¡±

    Tazaro chewed on his lip as he thought of how to dictate his thoughts. They were not degrading in any way but could easily be construed as such. Mostly, they were just observations.

    He reminded himself that she was unlike most other women and could not begin to compare the two or liken her to other men, either. What little he learned of her personality was so far out of the paradigm, it may as well have been an archetype of its own. Za paradigm vo Sheeva.

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯s embarrassing.¡± He tried to dismiss.

    She shot him another look.

    ¡°Embarrassing to me, or to you? Embarrassment can be overcome. Do not be so quick to dismiss things without saying them. So, out with it.¡± She demanded, voice stern and still dripping with annoyance.

    He stared at her for a moment, baffled. It was oddly groundbreaking and impressive. He blinked a couple of times, took a deep breath, and braced himself.

    ¡°You¡¯re not like other Sferrans. You address things pretty harshly. You, uh, kind of don¡¯t...behave with the same modesty of others. You carry around a sword and can kick ass, and even, uh, take a beating. It¡¯s just...mind-blowing, really.¡± He answered. She took a sip of her tea.

    ¡°Other Sferrans do not speak their minds? Or act in ways comfortable to them?¡± She summed.

    Tazaro nodded, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair.

    ¡°Most don¡¯t, no.¡± He muttered, taking a sip of tea. He held it in his mouth in awkward thought.

    ¡°They would rather suffer in menial continuance?¡±

    ¡°Mm. Yeah. Maybe.¡± He took another sip, feeling somewhat called out.

    ¡°Pfft. Then that is their loss.¡±

    He snapped his head back to look at her again, choking on the drink he¡¯d taken. She was dead serious.

    ¡°Tok za vilg? Wow!¡±

    ¡°What do you mean, what the fuck? You are...genuinely surprised?¡±

    ¡°Well, yeah!¡±

    Sheeva stared at the flask still in her hand and forced another sip. Maybe, she really didn''t belong in such a world outside of the temple.

    ¡°That is a shame. I imagine the world would be better if everyone gave basic respect to be themselves, no matter how hard or¡­odd it may be. You have a multitude of accomplishments, I gather. You should flaunt them more.¡± Sheeva found herself admitting. She looked at her tea again. Perhaps she added too much lavender. She chugged the rest of it, telling herself she would keep her mouth shut.

    ¡°I used to, I guess,¡± Tazaro mumbled. Sheeva snorted, annoyed with his humility.

    ¡°Just because you no longer entertain your accomplishments doesn¡¯t mean they no longer exist. You still created things, created ideas. That¡¯s something. A start of a legacy of sorts. That¡¯s far more than I have done for me.¡±

    Tazaro frowned, even more disturbed by her bleak outlook on life.

    ¡°I had been meaning to ask you: do you know what those symbols were on the banners in that clearing we stopped in? I have seen some of those sigils before, but I cannot...remember where.¡± She asked, breaking the cold silence between them, despite the warmth of the air.

    ¡°The clearing¡­¡± Tazaro mumbled, thinking back to what she was referring to. He tipped his head as it came to him. ¡°Those are the symbols of the gods. Icons to resemble them and generally what they stand for...but it¡¯s all just¨Cjust bullshit conjecture.¡±

    ¡°Conjecture? You don¡¯t believe in them?¡±

    Tazaro snorted derisively and waved a dismissive hand.

    ¡°Not anymore. They gotta be a bunch of hokey bullshit¨CI mean, Mom and Tyler worshipped them, every day¨Cand they would just repay us by just¨C¡± He stopped here, teeth clenched together and an ache in his chest. ¡°Why would I believe in them after everything that happened? After I prayed¨Cand I don¡¯t pray¨CMom still died!¡±

    Sheeva pursed her lips; whatever presence or part the gods actually had to play in things, the fact of the matter was that Zakaraia had ultimately ended Mildred¡¯s life. While she had struggled to accept the seemingly unfair matter, it would be a while until Tazaro could, it seemed.

    ¡°They can go fuck themselves! They¡¯re just a-a bunch of made-up things to make people feel better about their shitty selves or about unfair outcomes!¡± He growled, instantly irritated by the idea. He didn¡¯t want to admit it, but he had struggled with the idea for the last three weeks, and while he¡¯d slowly realized that it was a way for him to cope pointlessly, he pushed the understanding away in stubborn anger. ¡°As if celestial beings would trifle in such...petty matters as us, anyway!¡±

    Sheeva ¡°tsked¡± in mild impatience, especially considering he seemed to deem the ¡°made-up things¡± responsible for poor outcomes while simultaneously trying to renounce their existence.

    ¡°After all I¡¯ve learned, I can¡¯t say they don¡¯t exist¨CI mean, I exist, do I not? I am tangible and have some intelligence¨Cenough to learn about lightning strikes and...phonographs.¡± She answered with a small smile at her mild self-deprecation. It faded quickly, just in time for him to look up at her with his surprise showing at his slack-jawed expression.

    ¡°Okay, but you¡¯re diff¨C

    ¨CI can fight...and almost die,¡± She continued, wanting to test out laughing at her trauma. The laugh it wrought from her chest was far too close to a weeping chuckle, and she awkwardly hummed at herself.

    ¡°Cut me, and I bleed.¡±

    Her next phrase sent an encouraging rush through her bones and struck a well of appreciation for herself.

    ¡°I¡­still exist, and I am still alive,¡± She stated, serious. ¡°Ta¡¯hal-Sferran state and all.¡±

    She cleared her throat, remiss of her original intent.

    ¡°Because I...am, perhaps there is truth hidden in the legend of the gods, though I¡¯m still unsure what that truth is. We do not follow the Vivroan religion at Malfa Temple.¡± She explained. ¡°Anyway¡­¡± She turned to face him, still taken aback by the mournful sadness now in his citrine eyes. ¡°Need you more, if that is not proof enough? Suppose you could ask Bartholomew. I¡¯m sure he could have a lot to say about this.¡±

    Tazaro narrowed his eyes at the thought and curled his lip in distrust.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want to ask that bastard anything,¡± He growled, still bitter.

    Sheeva fought a tut at his statement, finding irony in the fact that he reminded her much of herself shortly after Rose¡¯s death. Short-tempered. Moody. Though, she hadn¡¯t wasted energy looking for someone or something to blame, having turned all of her focus towards training and holding Llyud wholly responsible.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    She thought of what Cassie and Kyle had done for her and genuinely smiled with a small huff, recalling an old winter day when they¡¯d bribed her out of her room and into the snow. Cassie had been unusually adamant that day¨Cperhaps, Sheeva had said something to her in a funk that rubbed her the wrong way, but as Cassie and Kyle pelted her with snowballs, the childish connection they shared helped snap her out of it. It reminded her of the support system that she still had.

    Intent to show Tazaro that he had her inexperienced support now, Sheeva extended her hand for Tazaro to take with a small ¡°hey.¡± While it wasn¡¯t being pelted with ice-cold snowballs and laughing her guts sore at the way the snow stuck to Kyle¡¯s bushy eyebrows, she hoped it was still something.

    He stared at her hand for a moment in confusion, then hesitantly reached out to take it, finding comfort in the gesture. Her hand was warmed by her cup and small in his, and as his grip came to life, so did hers. It brought a funny, forgotten smile to his face.

    ¡°I think you should take Tyler¡¯s advice to me and appreciate that you are alive. I¡¯ve had much time to think about it, and I realize that¡­Rose would have wanted me to do the same, so I imagine Mildred would want that for you.¡±

    The storm died down, and as the rain stopped its relentless assault on the rooftops, Sheeva calmed even more, no longer fueled by the rage of nature, though her hand remained in his while he held it tenderly.

    It drove a deep urge to pull him into a hug, eager to wish his ache and sorrow away.

    As she felt the phantom softness of his lips from her delusional peck, she cleared her throat, and made to leave.

    ¡°I am going to retire for the night. I should be sleeping, anyway.¡± She dismissed, using the rail to assist herself as she stood.

    He stood, too, hand still intertwined in hers.

    "Sheeva, wait," he asked.

    She paused, met his eyes, then looked away shyly as the butterflies flitted in her stomach.

    "What?" She asked, fully aware of the squiggly fluster of her face as her lips curled in a twisted sense of anticipation.

    "I''m sorry. For everything I said. For accusing you of being the reason¡­" He faltered here, then literally swallowed his shame and forced the words to his mouth. "For accusing you of being the reason that Mom died. I know that''s not true, and I wish I could take it back," He finished.

    "Oh," Sheeva blinked, then avoided eye contact even more.

    How naive and foolish of her to suggest he overcome his embarrassments when she could hardly master her own!

    Sheeva pursed her lips as her face burned, still easily pissed about the fact. She sighed, and swallowed as her throat tightened with a lump. It did nothing to alleviate the rock of pain.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± She grunted, brow tightening as her stare hardened. ¡°Me, too,¡± She mumbled, taking a step back and retrieving her hand from his.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to bed,¡± She insisted.

    Ignoring the flask and the chair she had set up on the balcony porch, Sheeva stepped to the sliding glass door, opened it, and slid through before hastily shutting the door. The door halted on a sticky spot in the frame and stuck open, covering Tazaro in a warm draft from the apartment.

    Disappointed with himself once more, Tazaro sighed, then sat in the basket-weave chair to stare at the cloudy sky while he sipped his tea.

    He wondered if things would ever come to a resolution between the both of them.

    <hr>

    As Sheeva checked off the eighth day of the third week, she sighed. She had three weeks to go until the braces could be removed, or five, if Vincent deemed it necessary. Between her mass amounts of sleep, drinking far more milk than she was used to, and attempting to heal her injuries with magic, she hoped it would only be three. She could at least get up to walk around without too much trouble, and continuously reminded herself that it was progress¨CA small step, but still progress.

    Her sigils still flashed and bugged her. Because she had not reinforced it for some time, the blue one corresponding to the workshop had begun to fade, though it still tingled at her once a day. The yellow one for Tazaro¡¯s apartment flashed whenever Vincent would leave in the evening and return in the early morning, though also not as strong as it used to. She tried to refortify it but did not have sufficient energy.

    The more that the green sigil flashed and tingled as the week went by, the more she itched¨Cliterally and figuratively¨Cto get out and make sure that Josef and the others were doing alright. After promising that any time spent inside the house would be minimal, Micah had assured Sheeva that he was working toward getting the children settled into one of the barrack¡¯s spare sheds. He felt it would be easier to keep an eye on them than dropping them off at an orphanage, and Sheeva gratefully agreed.

    She picked at the scar of the pale red rose in misery, wishing she could scour it off somehow. While the unsightly mark had mostly healed now, it itched something fierce. When she caught herself scratching at it with a glance to the mirror, she curled her lip in distaste at herself, all too easily reminded of a Midna''s Overlook captive suffering a hellacious addiction to Iphsium.

    Bartholomew popped up occasionally, but only when Vincent was not home and just for a short while, wary of being caught somehow by ¡°their friend.¡± They weren¡¯t sure what constituted Bartholomew¡¯s visibility by others, but from what he had learned in his travels, only a select few could. Typically, those of Pacemian descent, though, occasionally, Bartholomew noticed a couple of rare finds looking his way¨Cthen screaming as they ran to the hills.

    He had been searching for Zakaraia, bringing the news of ¡°ritualistic massacres¡± leading towards Cruinia¨Cin which townhouses or, in some cases, entire farming communities¨Cwere laid to waste and ignited in a crude, black-flame funeral pyre. It seemed Zakaraia was indiscriminate of the poor souls he encountered, offing defenseless women and children in addition to the brave soldiers, fathers, and husbands that valiantly defended their families until their final breaths.

    Bartholomew wouldn¡¯t admit it, but he had taken to charter a course for the lost souls towards the funnel at the mouth of Fidelia¡¯s river, holding faith that they were well received. His assurance that the ¡°souls were being put to good use,¡± referring to a deduction of Sheeva¡¯s repayment, did not seem to lighten her spirits as he thought it would have.

    Sheeva and Tazaro decided to use the information that Zakaraia was a serial killer they were trying to apprehend as a cover if anyone ever questioned them, as Sheeva had done for Llyud. Once Sheeva was well enough and could retract her wing, she decided to ask the painter in the plaza to craft a fake ¡°wanted¡± poster of the man, despite how little she knew of Zakaraia other than the marred scar across his alabaster face.

    After testing her energy with a ball of light, Sheeva found she could keep it lit for a decent amount of time. She nodded as she closed her hand to dispel the orb and decided that she would at least be well enough to heal the wounds Tazaro would get from his winging. But, recalling her initial winging, Sheeva wondered how he would fare, and let her eyes drop from the newly added poster of a cathedral he¡¯d sketched in college for ¡°a thesis project¡± to him, currently driven and knocking out the daily regimen she¡¯d assigned him.

    As Tazaro did his daily set of push-ups, she found that his form had gotten much better than it had been, even though he continued to gripe about a couple of things¨Cnamely, the soreness of his muscles and the unrelenting knots he¡¯d get from ignoring her instruction and pushing himself too hard. Still, as week three came to a close, he ended up doing them well and did not seem to complain about them. Perhaps he was now used to them, and she would not have to listen to his regrets.

    ¡°I think it is time for you to bare your wings.¡± She announced, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

    ¡°What? You think so?¡± Tazaro asked as he stopped and rested on his knees, not breathing as hard as he had when he first began. He grabbed a nearby towel and dabbed at his face, then chugged at a glass of water.

    His efforts instilled a shred of pride, and she hoped it did not show, despite the curl of a smirk on her face.

    ¡°Tam. Go. Bring Vincent. I will need his help. Bring buckets of water and plenty of rags.¡± She ordered, slipping her arm out of its sling and grabbing the glass of water he¡¯d brought for her, drinking deeply. She had become more used to drinking water on a timely basis, rather than only drinking when she felt thirst.

    His eyes widened with thrill as he grinned and stood, bolting with a bit of pep in his stride. Sheeva caught herself smiling at his excitement, shook it off of her face, and stepped out of bed, wincing slightly at a twinge in her thigh muscle.

    Figuring she would start by showing Tazaro how to unfurl a wing, she unbuttoned the navy-blue shirt Vincent purchased for her and slipped it off of her shoulders, keeping her back to the door.

    ¡°Hey! Hi! Whoa! I didn¡¯t realize¨CUh, Should I go?¡± Tazaro¡¯s asked as he averted his gaze to one of his childhood sketches taped to the wall, something he only recently pinned up. The blueprint for the drawbridge that netted him first place in the contest he submitted it to was one of his first notable achievements.

    Sheeva clutched the shirt up to keep her chest covered as she turned her head to look at him. Tazaro¡¯s face was red from ear to ear, and the broad, shit-eating grin Vincent gave Tazaro did not go unnoticed, either.

    ¡°No. I am going to show you how to bare your wings.¡±

    She turned her head back and focused, feeling a tingle in her shoulder blade as the second joint poked out from under the skin. The metacarpals followed and seemed to fall out as the limb reached. They watched the wing stretch out to its capacity and almost touched the wall, altogether something amazingly graceful. She bent it back and showed how it looked held correctly against her torso instead of strapped down like her other wing, then stretched it out again as she tucked the metacarpals in to fold it back into her body. They disappeared from view with a flash, and a small opening sat before it slowly shriveled shut.

    ¡°That was fucking cool,¡± Vincent muttered, full of scientific curiosity. It hadn¡¯t seemed like any organs or bones had shifted around in her torso to make room, and it made even less sense than the shred he¡¯d managed to scrounge together in thought.

    ¡°Thank you, Vincent.¡± Sheeva slipped her shirt back up around her bound wing and shoulders and buttoned it up. Tazaro shuddered in nerves. The idea that there would be a foreign slot forming on his body gave him the heebie-jeebies.

    ¡°Alright. Take off your shirt. You may want to bite down on it.¡± Sheeva stated as she grabbed a knife and blew a breath of fire on the blade to sanitize it. He gave her a confused look, and she rolled her eyes.

    ¡°Don''t give me that. You do not want to tear your shirt, do you?¡± She explained, pointing the knife to the floor as she beckoned him to kneel at her feet once more. Tazaro knelt and took off his shirt, rolled it up, and stuck it in his mouth. She walked around to his backside.

    ¡°It may come naturally; I do not know. You should feel a pool of energy right about...here, yes?¡± Sheeva stated, circling an area on his shoulder blade with her finger. He nodded and focused as well as he could, what with the zing of excitement and fright coursing through his veins.

    ¡°Relax.¡± She ordered, and Tazaro drew in a shaky breath, held it, and just as shakily let it out. It did little to ease his nerves.

    ¡°Like a ketze bares its claws, wings are the same.¡± She continued. As he felt a pull and stretch of his skin, he squeaked, unnerved, and reached back. Sure enough, he felt a creepy foreign body protruding from his back beneath his skin.

    ¡°Brace yourself. Expel all the air in your lungs so that you take in a full breath.¡± She stated, holding the cold blade against the skin. He huffed everything he had out his nose, wondering why she suggested such a thing.

    "Why?" He tried to ask behind the cloth stuffed in his mouth.

    When she sliced his skin open, Tazaro immediately understood "why" as he inhaled through his nose so quickly it stung, then screamed into the shirt as his brain fully registered the pain.

    Like an unloaded spring, the wing shot out of the wound, splitting it even more and eliciting a sob from the man. Sheeva stepped forward and grabbed the wing, giving it a gentle pull as she helped it unfurl. She held up the wing, stretching it out to its full potential.

    ¡°Vincent, hold this up. I will get the other.¡± She ordered. He did so in shock, grasping the bloody wing in his hands. The bone was sturdier than he expected, and the bloody limb was warm in his hands. He watched as she formed some seals and placed her palm against the wound around the bone, and with a flash of light, healed the wound. It scarred almost instantly. He was slightly jealous of the power, wanting to be able to do the same. He could save so many people.

    ¡°Ok, now the other side¨Cquickly.¡± She continued.

    Vincent watched as she did the same thing with the other one and held it out for her as she healed the other wound. Tazaro clung to the back of his wooden chair with a death grip, breathing raggedly. She gently set the wing down towards the ground, then stood back to check their work. His wingspan was about as long as his entire body, and when she reached out a hand and gripped the humerus, she found it would be sturdy enough.

    ¡°The hardest part is over now.¡± She assessed. Tazaro took the soggy shirt out of his mouth and panted for air, dizzied, wiping at the tears that had fallen from his eyes.

    He looked to his side, and his mouth dropped open as his breath caught in his chest. There they were. Wings. Covered in blood and the tiny feathers matted, but they were there.

    ¡°Holy shit. Holy shit!¡± He swore, then cried out in pain as he turned to look at Vincent. Sheeva patted his shoulder.

    ¡°You should not move too much. You are still adjusting to the changes in your body. Here. Sit. We will need to clean off the wings before the blood dries. Vincent, let me show you how to clean them.¡± She offered, trying to support Tazaro as he stood shakily. He squeezed the cast on her arm in pain, and as she helped him sit backward on his chair, he leaned on it, exhausted.

    He gave something between a whimper and a yell as she rolled the chair back against the desk. She grabbed his pillow and set it under his head, allowing him to rest his head on that instead.

    She started with the joint connecting to his shoulders, ignoring his hiss of pain.

    ¡°Go with the direction of feathers. Most of them are down feathers. The adult feathers will grow over time. They are like scales on a drake, though, modified.¡± She explained. Vincent nodded and began to wash the other, wincing in apology as Tazaro groaned in pain again.

    ¡°Hey. Breathe, Tazaro. It¡¯ll help.¡± Vincent reminded him, guiding him in the process as he would with a birthing mother, stopping to dip the bloody rag in water to rinse it out.

    It took almost an hour, but after what had to be twenty buckets of water and a mountain of bloodied rags, Tazaro¡¯s wings were finally clean. Any feathers lingering about were brown towards the center, turning a cream-white color as they neared the wings¡¯ edges. They were smaller than Vincent thought they would be, but as he remembered that Sheeva said feathers grew, he waved the matter off.

    ¡°I-have...a-killer...headache,¡± Tazaro said weakly. Sheeva huffed softly with a look of pity on her face, but the expression disappeared when Tazaro turned to look at her.

    ¡°What now?¡± He asked, a pain-drunk look on his face. She stared at him for a minute, formed some seals, and pressed her fingers to his temple. He sighed in relief, and again, Vincent was envious of her power.

    ¡°Sleep. We will discuss that later.¡± She decided, grabbing his wings and some bandages. She restrained them, much like her injured one currently was. Sheeva and Vincent helped him stand, lay him face-down on his bed, grabbed the blanket, and pulled it over him.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± He said tiredly, closing his eyes.

    ¡°Mm.¡± She sounded, giving a slight nod, then crossed her arms in thought as she studied his face.

    Despite all the pain, he managed to push through and do it. It was more than she expected, and she had to admit, she was impressed with his perseverance.

    ¡°Was that all there was to it?¡± Vincent asked.

    ¡°No, he will have to learn how to retract them as well. Again, painful, but it shouldn¡¯t be as bad as baring them for the first time. Eventually, his body will adapt, and it will not hurt at all.¡± Spotting a bit of blood on his forehead, she grabbed a rag and wiped it off. She grabbed a fresh towel and dunked it, squeezed it with her free hand, then folded it carefully and rested it on his forehead.

    Vincent noticed her calm, something out-of-place for the callous woman. He tapped his chin in thought as he watched her face fall slightly, thinking about something dark. No doubt, probably replaying their circumstances in her head again and the events leading to it. When she chuckled softly in amusement at something and moved a stray hair off of his cheek, it threw Vincent for a loop. Curious to know what it had been, he called her out on it.

    She flinched subtly, and calmly directed her hand to straighten out a matted clump of growing feathers.

    ¡°I just watched the man go through something insanely painful. I...expected him to faint from it. I almost did when I first bared my wings, and I was much more accustomed to pain.¡±

    ¡°Uh-huh. Right.¡± He said flatly in his hunch that there was more to it left unsaid. ¡°I have to admit; it looks painful. Now that you say so, I¡¯m a little surprised too.¡±

    Sheeva frowned and turned to look at him.

    ¡°I thought you were supposed to support your friends.¡± She scolded. Vincent shook his head.

    ¡°On the contrary, I support him a lot. I am truthful. Even when I probably shouldn¡¯t be.¡± He mumbled as an afterthought.

    ¡°You¡¯ve, uh...been good for him, you know, especially after, well, everything. You encourage him to push himself. Respect himself.¡± Vincent pointed out, enjoying the glimmer of the haughty stare she sent his way, learning that it was a tell of hers whenever he¡¯d succeeded in getting under her skin. ¡°Ha, don¡¯t think I didn¡¯t pick up on your disappointment during your little ¡®double standard¡¯ rant,¡± He stated with a knowing smirk. ¡°One might even go as far as to think you have taken a liking to him,¡± Vincent teased.

    The scowl turned and deepened into something unpleasant, and he knew that he¡¯d pushed too far.

    Sheeva scoffed at her thoughts. They too easily slipped towards the almost-kiss they could have shared. With a cleared throat to put such ludicrous fantasies aside, she sat back, attempting to cross her arms and legs, forgetting she could not quite do that yet.

    ¡°That disappointment was on his mother¡¯s behalf.¡± She insisted.

    ¡°Oh, please. You can¡¯t honestly say you don¡¯t understand what I mean.¡± He prodded, though as he thought about it, she might. She silenced, and her mouth pursed in annoyance.

    ¡°I do understand. And no, I do not. Not in the way you propose. I don¡¯t¡­see myself courting him.¡± She insisted, helping Vincent clean up the mess in the room to keep him from seeing her face.

    Vincent paused, holding back a laugh. Maybe, she honestly did not understand.

    ¡°That¡¯s not what I,¡± He snorted anyway. ¡°I wasn¡¯t talking about sex.¡± He pointed out, taking a bucket and filling it with bloody rags. Sheeva took a deep breath and sighed.

    ¡°I know.¡±

    She stood, carrying a bucket of bloody water. Vincent traded it for the lighter bucket he held.

    ¡°There¡¯s more to life than revenge, you know,¡± Vincent stated. Her expression softened slightly.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think we have that liberty,¡± She attempted to dismiss. After all, she was, inadvertently, the reason why they were in this mess to begin with.

    ¡°Don¡¯t have the liberty, huh? That¡¯s surprising, coming from a warrior-girl like you. One would think you have all the liberty in the world to do as you please. Who¡¯s stopping you?¡± He countered.

    He caught a glimpse of her irritated blaze as she pushed past him and out of the room.

    Unrelenting, Vincent followed her out into the living room, then to the kitchen as she grabbed herself some water.

    ¡°Everyone has the liberty to do whatever they want, so long as it doesn''t infringe on the freedoms of others. So, you know, I think it¡¯s you who¡¯s stopping you.¡± Vincent countered. She hesitated briefly, then filled a kettle and set it on the stove to busy herself. She lit it with a breath of fire, then sighed impatiently.

    ¡°Then what would you prefer I do?¡± She snapped, aggressively turning over the beaker she used to steep tea. It thudded hard against the counter, and Vincent winced for his lab equipment. Acknowledging her temper, Sheeva stared at the beaker in her hands and sighed, taking a moment to calm herself down.

    ¡°Please¨Chonestly¨Cenlighten me," She asked, hesitating as she drummed her fingernails on the glass. "What would you rather I do, other than the right thing to do? Turn my back on the dangers we face and look the other way while behaving as carelessly as a, a gossip-girl? Risk hurting someone else because I haven¡¯t upheld my vigilance? Risk Zakaraia hurting someone else because I¡¯ve ignored the bigger threat?¡± She asked, giving that same, stern, yet pleading stare. At Vincent¡¯s silence, she gave an exasperated sigh and turned back to the counter.

    Hastily, she poured the bubbling water into the beaker over a packed tea infuser. The infuser bled a gentle blue as she poked at it with the edge of a spoon. The spoon clattered on the counter as she set it down.

    ¡°I no longer have just myself to worry about. Tazaro is in this, too, for better or for worse, and if I¡¯m to be his guide, then I need to keep my head clear. I can¡¯t¡­I won¡¯t ail him any more than I have already.¡±

    Eyebrow curled at Sheeva¡¯s ranting, Vincent fought to find a good question to ask; one that might entice her to think about it a little more positively.

    ¡°Is opening up to someone really that detrimental of a thing? Just, a-a cut-and-dry factor between life-and-death?¡±

    Although the tea was nowhere ready, Sheeva picked up the light blue-tinted water and sipped at it through pursed lips. Deciding that Vincent simply didn¡¯t understand due to not sharing the same harrowing difficulties, she held her silence as she doctored up the tea with a sugar cube and a splash of cream.

    As the beaker warmed her cold, numb fingers, she headed toward the table and opened up the window. This was the closest she could get to fresh air besides sitting on the balcony in the dead of the night since the balcony was far too public in broad daylight. Fingertips played with the condensation on the glass as she stared into the world below in speculation.

    No matter the excuse she dredged to wedge between defenses and ideas, the fact remained that they were about to become training partners and that their inevitable reliance on the other was unavoidable, but still, she scoffed at Vincent¡¯s suggestions.

    Would ¡°having the liberty to do as she pleased¡± truly mean that she could abandon her reserved, stoic front and give Tazaro warm praise of his dedication to his new role, as she had recently wanted to?

    Say it fostered something that made her stomach ruffle with butterflies and her heart perform those ridiculous acrobatics in her ribcage. Would ¡°liberty¡± also apply to her yearning desire to take Tazaro¡¯s face in her hands and fulfill that curiosity of a kiss? Would she be able to handle feeling uncharacteristically...safe?

    Sheeva looked up and across the table as Vincent sat down with a sigh, cradling his own cup of tea in hand.

    Putting aside the fact that she hadn¡¯t given him an answer, Vincent decided it may be too early to broach the subject.

    ¡°What do you think the meaning of life is?¡± Vincent asked out of curiosity to give her something else to think about. He often asked his long-term patients the same thing, finding each had a different idea, some incredibly optimistic and others extremely pessimistic. He was certain hers would be dark and dreary, but even if so, perhaps he could culture it towards something better.

    Her eyes widened with surprise at the question, and she stared at her glass with a perplexed, nonplussed gaze. She settled back in her chair as she honored the question, disappointed with what she found herself immediately thinking.

    ¡°I¨C¡± She stopped herself, hesitant. Would Vincent understand her point of view if she told him that ¡°life was meaningless, and there was no hope?¡±

    She refreshed her tongue with a sip.

    ¡°I do not know if there is a correct way to answer that. No one has ever asked me," She refused.

    ¡°Ah." Vincent hummed, forcing a sip of his own tea. He "tsked" at it disapprovingly, then looked her in the eyes again. "Well, there¡¯s not really a right or wrong. There just is. Think about it some.¡± He suggested.

    Sheeva felt the chill of pessimism grapple down her back and shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

    ¡°Frankly, I don¡¯t want to. It¡¯s pointless to think about, and sad.¡± She voiced, squinting.

    Vincent frowned.

    It¡¯s only so because you think it¡¯s so, Sheeva.

    ¡°It''s not pointless. What about a life with a friend or two in it? You and Tazaro are friends at least, right? Think about it. It¡¯s ok to have people you can count on in this world.¡± Vincent stated, interrupting her thoughts.

    There he went again, suggesting something she simply couldn¡¯t risk doing. Sheeva allowed the ¡°feh!¡± of disapproval. Apparently, being direct was the best way to go about the broached subject this time.

    ¡°That is generally how they end up dead, or I end up disappointing someone or hurt. I put Tazaro and his mother in danger and look at everything that happened.¡± She growled, standing and roughly shoving the chair back beneath the table while trying to quell her terrifying thoughts.

    ¡°I¡¯m done with this conversation. Do not ask me again.¡± She demanded, heading into the living room to claim a space on the couch. Carefully, she lay herself down on it and stewed in frustration and embarrassment as she cocooned herself with the blanket draped over the arm of the couch. It did little to soothe her disruptive thoughts, and she eventually resorted to the cast of a spell to help her sleep, preferring the sweet caress of slumber to morbid, darkening epiphanies.

 Chapter 20: Of Pancakes and Bocce Ball

    Sheeva jerked awake from her nightmare with an estranged cry, feeling the stab of Zakaraia¡¯s silver-crested bastard sword embedded in her chest. Huffs of air wheezed past her throat as she struggled against the roots binding her in place, and her brain screamed in its panic as she choked on stagnant air.

    Her ability to breathe finally kicked in, and the first full breath was a godsend, and after gulping like a fish out of water, her body finally had the strength to push itself up as her stinging, teary eyes registered the wall next to her face. Numb fingers pawed at and felt the pressure of the pillow previously lumped beneath her neck, and she slowly realized what had driven her brain to mimic Zakaraia¡¯s hand around her throat as he ran her through.

    Exhausted, Sheeva rolled onto her side and looked the rest of her body over in the dim light. It was bound by twisted, white sheets that coiled around her legs. She coughed away the lump in her throat and sat up to weakly shuffle herself back to lay against the headboard, eyes threatening to close from interrupted sleep.

    She felt her head loll to the side as her body quickly slipped towards sleep, feeling the weight in her bones and muscles, but as the nightmare flashed itself in her mind¡¯s eye, Sheeva shivered and whimpered and forced her eyes open again. Desperately, she wriggled herself free of the sheets, wincing and hissing from the pain in her wounds and hoping she had not added another week of recovery time.

    Her legs draped over the side of the bed as she sat on the edge of it, panting and still feeling the sting of exhaustion in her eyeballs. She rubbed them, her temples, and her face with her cold hands. The chill helped soothe her feverish face. The clock ticked above the door, but as she looked at it to decipher the time, she found she couldn¡¯t see straight, stricken by blurry double-vision.

    Wiping at the tiredness of her eyes, she pulled at the collar of her shirt and plucked buttons to air the sweat off her chest. Attempting to ground herself further, she looked around the room in the dim light shining in from the window. The ragora seemed to peer at her in alarm, mouth slightly agape with confusion as it sat in its place on the corner of Tazaro¡¯s desk. It cooed and reached for her with its vibrant, purple leaves, but Sheeva didn¡¯t notice.

    When her eyes threatened to close yet again, she forced herself to stand and look out the window at the moons¨Cmore correctly, moon, as Kursu shone brightly amid the starry sky, brightening from the opposite side of the horizon as the sun began to rise. Celeste was nowhere to be seen, either freshly into or working its way out of its new moon phase. Still feeling feverish and clammy, she opened the window for fresh air. The crisp, summer night air wicked the excessive heat from her face. As Sheeva leaned to poke her head out, the ragora chittered in worry and pushed at her hand for pets. She jumped and gasped, chuckled at her nerves and easy startle, and with a shaking hand, obliged its request.

    The waxy, smooth shell rippled beneath her fingertips, and as she etched her nails gently to clear away the cuticle buildup, ¡°Burke¡± ruffled its leaves with glee at the scratchings between where, if it had eyes, Sheeva imagined they would be. The xylem and phloem, synonymous with the Sferran vascular system, charted nutrients, water, and by-products around the ragora¡¯s body and pulsed as she rested her finger on it. A solid and steady beat showed the sign of a happy, healthy plant, compared to the weak, aberrant one it had been when Sheeva first began to tend to the poor thing.

    Fighting to gulp past a dry throat, Sheeva grabbed her water pouch to drink, and as she tilted it back, she found it was dry. She wondered when she had finished it, closed it up, and plopped it down with an exasperated sigh next to the open book she was reading before falling asleep. She considered picking it up to read, but when she considered how groggy she was, decided it would only put her to sleep at this point.

    With Tazaro¡¯s permission, of course, the book she chose to read was another item she wanted to take back to the temple, feeling that Cassie would like to dive into the shocking idea of farm animals overthrowing their keeper and running the land on their own. She found herself hoping that it worked out for them, amused with the fact that they had even laid out rules to follow rather than entertaining blind anarchy.

    She rubbed at her puffy, swollen, tired eyes while she headed toward the kitchen for water, somehow remembering to button her shirt back up. She had a difficult time with it, more confused at why the light was on in the kitchen and at such an ungodly hour of the morning.

    Rounding the corner, Sheeva saw Tazaro, wearing only sweatpants and sitting on the counter, arms crossed and a frustrated look on his face as he stared down at a half-eaten stack of pancakes. He looked up at her, mildly embarrassed at his half-naked state as she walked in, but she didn¡¯t seem to pay it any mind whatsoever, heading toward the sink for water.

    A look of pity flashed across his face at her exhausted state; hair tousled, button-up shirt askew, appearing to have missed a button in the darkness, shorts barely visible underneath the long hem of the shirt. She looked more tired than she had been before dinner, and as she grabbed a glass that they left down for her on the counter and filled it, he looked away, thinking that his gaze had lingered for too long.

    She chugged the first glass, shuddering at the feeling of cold water filling an empty belly, then filled the glass again. Needing distraction from the shadow of cold steel against her neck, Sheeva pressed her warm hand against the nape of her neck and glanced at Tazaro¡¯s reflection in the window across from the sink. She wondered why he was up so late. Or, perhaps he was up early; she still was unsure of the time.

    ¡°It is¡­¡± She paused to look at the clock. Her vision was still too blurry to see it clearly, but it was about two or three. ¡°Late.¡± She decided, turning around to face him.

    ¡°Have you not slept?¡± She asked, concerned. By the sunken puffiness of his eyes, he had not. Tazaro shook his head and forced another bite of pancakes.

    ¡°I tried. Couldn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°So...pancakes help with that?¡± She asked, blinking sluggishly. She reached for the slider on the switch panel connected to the lanterns on the wall and shifted it to dim the room, not wanting to put up with the piercing, blinding lights.

    ¡°Heh. Sure. Breakfast at midnight. Or, uh, four in the morning.¡± He shrugged lazily, a minor, tired smile curling in the corner of his lips. ¡°Why not?¡± He asked.

    "Oh. Four." She mumbled to herself. "I see."

    Sheeva chugged half of the second glass of water and looked at the chairs and table nearby, her body desperately crying to sit and sleep, much as she didn¡¯t want to. She forced herself to lean against the uncomfortable, unforgiving, rigid counter. At least if she were to fall asleep standing up, perhaps Tazaro could catch her in time before she collided with the floor.

    ¡°It is just surprising, that is all.¡± She muttered.

    Tazaro took a deep breath and sighed with a discontented ¡°hm.¡± Sheeva looked over at him. A frown stuck on his face as he pushed a bite around on the plate with the fork tongs, and he almost seemed to pout about something.

    ¡°Mom would make pancakes for me whenever I was feeling down. I tried to recreate them. They didn¡¯t really turn out like I remember them tasting.¡±

    He forced it in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully, the disappointed look not changing in the slightest.

    ¡°Yeah. I definitely messed this up.¡±

    Sheeva set her glass down and reached for the fork.

    ¡°May I?¡±

    He let her, waiting nervously while she speared a bite and tasted it. She fought a face and swallowed the bite.

    ¡°That bad, huh?¡± He asked apologetically. She allowed the pucker face to break out and slowly nodded, taking a sip of water to wash away the harsh assault on her taste buds.

    ¡°They¡¯re, uh, tart?¡± She answered. ¡°Too much baking powder. Use less and try, uh, cream. It will counter the tartness and even it out. The fats in cream help keep the pancakes moist, too¨CIf you don¡¯t mind my advice.¡± She added quickly, realizing she overstepped by not asking if he wanted guidance in the first place. It was a rookie cooking mistake not worth a scolding. Tazaro shook his head, spirits lifted.

    ¡°No, not at all. Thank you. I¡¯ll remember that for next time¨Cmaybe they¡¯ll turn out better.¡± He hoped.

    ¡°If you like, lemon and blueberry go well together. Apples and cinnamon, too.¡± She offered with a smile, now craving a bite of decadent, buttery, fluffy pancakes. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you don¡¯t already know her recipe, considering you helped her with cooking more often than not.¡±

    He chuckled and cleared his throat.

    "Mom never showed me how to make her pancakes¨Cpromised she would when I ¡®grew up, got married, and gave her grandkids." He beamed, the smile turning bittersweet.

    "Anyway, I¡¯m sorry they''re terrible. It was a lot of guesswork." He explained, motioning to the lineup of ingredients he used still piled on the counter. Sheeva scanned them. Sugar. Flour. Eggs. Baking powder. A simple recipe, but it seemed something was missing.

    ¡°Did you use bananas?¡± She asked.

    ¡°What?" He asked, baffled. "No. I don¡¯t like bananas.¡±

    Sheeva stared at him for a moment, confused and amused with the curl of disgust on his lips.

    ¡°Oh? No? You don¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°No. The seeds are annoying, and it leaves this¨Cblech¨Ca gritty, slimy film on your teeth. Bananas are gross!¡± He frowned in extreme distaste.

    Sheeva chuckled and hid her smile, feeling her eyes lift.

    ¡°That is funny; Mildred used bananas¨Cshe probably had been the whole time.¡±

    Tazaro looked over at her, somewhat hurt at the indignance, choosing to ignore the fact that his mom would use nasty-ass bananas.

    ¡°What, she told you how to make them?¡± He asked, mildly jealous. She shook her head.

    ¡°Not exactly. A, uh, little bird told me. After the first time Mildred made them for me, I, uh, had to know.¡±

    ¡°Ah. Do you think Mom knew you were spying on her?"

    Sheeva''s mischievous grin broke on her face, and she snorted as she turned her head away to gain her composure.

    "Feh! Oh, she knew. She had to! You really couldn''t get anything past her." She chuckled. Tazaro smirked and nodded in agreement.

    ¡°With as much bullshit as I tried to get away with as a teenager, you¡¯re right about that.¡±

    As Sheeva¡¯s vision cleared and the sun began to peek up over the horizon, she looked at the clock again. It was closer to four than she had thought. She rubbed at her eyes again, still trying to shake the desperate need for sleep, and covered her mouth as she yawned. Tazaro watched her step toward the window and open the shutters, spilling the morning sun across the floor. He let out a gravelly sigh, annoyed with the lack of sleep he had gotten.

    ¡°What are you doing awake, anyway? You look rough.¡± He asked, feeling more remorseful when her passive calm turned sour.

    ¡°Nightmare. I do not want to go back to sleep for the moment. One of those where...¡±

    Her hand touched her neck lightly as she swallowed again, feeling a knot form in her throat, and turned back to look out the window.

    "Nevermind. It''s not important. It is just a dream." She deflected.

    Tazaro set his pancakes down, uninterested in finishing them as he took a deep breath; he¡¯d woken from a nightmare, too, about three hours into finally getting to sleep, and he could probably empathize.

    ¡°One where you¡¯re trapped in sleep? Think you¡¯ve woken up, but really, you¡¯re still asleep?¡± He finished her sentence, wondering if he wasn¡¯t the only one. It would be an incredibly comforting fact if he wasn¡¯t the only person rueing any kind of sleep lately.

    Sheeva¡¯s eyes widened, and she looked back at him, worried. Her nightmares had never been that vivid, but the prospect was chilling.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± She asked timidly. Tazaro frowned. Maybe he was the only one.

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to describe. You are lucid enough to know you¡¯re dreaming¨Cat least, you think so. You can see your room or objects in your room, but you can''t grab anything. You can''t breathe, and when you feel the weight of your blanket, you become certain it''s what''s suffocating you. After moving around a bit, you think you¡¯re awake. You can even get up and walk around. Then, suddenly, poof! You¡¯re back in the same position you were and realize you¡¯re still suffocating.¡±

    Sheeva slowly shook her head and wrapped her arms around her middle as well as she could for comfort.

    ¡°No, nothing like that.¡±

    Tazaro cleared his throat, self-conscious and disturbingly vulnerable. He leaned back a little and averted his eyes to the design on the lampshade in the ceiling as if the little brown mushrooms would harbor some consolations.

    ¡°Just me, then? Good to know. Don¡¯t mind me; I''m just going nuts, apparently.¡± He grumbled to himself.

    Sheeva stared at him sadly for a moment, empathizing with his discomfort even though she had never experienced a nightmare like that. She found herself wondering what she would do if she couldn¡¯t wake up. Would she scream for help? Would her voice even carry in real life if she was asleep? She shivered again and scratched at her neck behind her ear.

    "I''m sorry, Tazaro. That is something...quite terrifying." She offered, unsure if it was a decent response. "And, they are all this way?"

    Tazaro pushed himself off the counter and stood by the window next to her.

    ¡°Thankfully, no. I¡¯ve been stuck watching Mom die. Over and over again.¡± He admitted, remembering Micah¡¯s suggestion that he actually talk about it. "It''s sad that those ones are more preferable." He added in honesty.

    Sheeva pursed her lips together, feeling a flash of guilt. She nodded from personal experience.

    ¡°I was the same way after Rose.¡±

    He raised his eyes to look at hers, finding the slightly beveled pupils a little more noticeable in the gleam of the morning sun. The red mixed with yellow sun rays caused a fiery glimmer he found pacifying, and his apprehension subsided. Suddenly, knowing that even ass-kicking warrior-girls suffered nightmares of their deceased mothers made him not feel so alone, and it dawned on him that she might know exactly what he was going through.

    ¡°What was yours about?¡± He asked, wanting to console her as he knew he would appreciate, if in her situation, and simultaneously wondering if she still had nightmares about Rose¡¯s death. If she were to say yes, he feared he would still be plagued with replays years from now.

    She scowled and began to twirl a lock of hair in her fingers to fidget, a habit she picked up in place of crossing her arms. Her hair shimmered with an almost indigo tint to it.

    ¡°Zakaraia.¡± A frightened frown stuck on her face, and she shifted around uncomfortably.

    ¡°I have never been arrogant in my skill nor flaunted my ability unnecessarily. Yes, I can hold myself against the general populace. But Zakaraia? He is on a different plane, and that is¡­" She paused, unwilling to put her feelings into words. "Terrifying." She forced, her voice quavering and small. It held no volume, and in her disgust with her timidness, anger took hold.

    ¡°You have to understand that I-I gave it my all. Everything I could. Even at the risk of death, because I¨C¡± She blurted, looking at him with tears in her eyes and a pleading look on her face.  Feeling sheepish, she dropped it to his chest, but her self-disgust festered. ¡°Part of me didn¡¯t want to face the consequences of my failure. Part of me wanted to give you and Mildred a chance to survive.¡±

    ¡°You know that, don¡¯t you?¡± She whispered in desperate agony, eyes darting to and fro as she looked back and forth at his, searching for truth. Her heart ached as it threatened to drive her back into her self-destructive, comfortable zone of despair, and she winced at it, dropping her gaze again. ¡°Please know that.¡± She whispered.

    How could she look at someone that placed her on such an undeserving pedestal?

    ¡°You and Micah believe I am capable of great things, but I-I¡¯m not. All I have found of myself is absolute selfishness.¡± She admitted with a furious expression on her face, struggling not to give in to her mind¡¯s willingness to crawl back into its self-realized niche. She''d come so far, and to take a step back now would only accelerate her regression.

    Tazaro¡¯s eyes flashed reproachfully, and his eyebrows furrowed, instantly irate. He wasn¡¯t about to mention her statement about not wanting to face her failure, coming to terms recently with the fact that he had wished he was the one who died and not his mother.

    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, you really don¡¯t give yourself enough credit, do you?¡± He growled. She looked up in shock, and he pressed his hands to her cheeks.

    ¡°Of course, I know, and you''re far from selfish. You-you¨C¡± He caught himself, realizing how harshly he still spoke. ¡°You¡¯re amazing, you know.¡± He assured softly, with an incredible tenderness that Sheeva latched onto, even in her frustrated state. She let her head rest in his strong hands, eyes closing with her tired, defeated sigh.

    How foolish she¡¯d been to allow him to get this close, as her chest began to ache with emotional pain and her stomach fluttered, and surely, her cheeks reddened in his palms. He gave a soft chuckle and an embarrassed smile as he moved a lock of hair out of her face to tuck it behind her ear. Stupefied, Sheeva could only stare before he pulled her into a loose hug, adding to her dumbed confusion.

    ¡°I know you gave it all you had, Sheeva.¡± He murmured, urging her to rest her head on his shoulder. ¡°I dressed your wounds, and I carried you back here.¡± He began, tracing his fingers over the splint on her wing. ¡°You are capable of great things, regardless of whether you¡¯re comparing yourself to a, uh, crazy psycho or not. I mean, you¡¯re alive, despite everything. You have wings and can fly. You can do fucking magic. That¡¯s pretty great, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Better than that¨Cand though you try to hide it¨Cyou genuinely care about people. You inspire people, and they care about you, too. That¡¯s something, isn¡¯t it? Besides, I¡¯m sure that with all that you¡¯ve done, for every person who thinks that you suck, there¡¯s another person whose world you¡­rock.¡±

    When Sheeva buried her scrunched, mournful face against his chest and looped her arm around the middle of his back, Tazaro settled into the hug, resting one hand awkwardly on her hip and the other on the back of her head. He felt the heat of her face on his skin, and after she didn¡¯t immediately push him away, he relaxed even more.

    She dropped her head, began to tremble, and took a shaky deep breath to try to calm herself. As the vividness of the nightmare she woke from returned to her, she pushed herself further into his space.

    In wanting to hold her tighter, his hand slipped underneath her wing and between her shoulder blades to press Sheeva intently against his chest. The other wrapped around her waist and gripped it gently. He felt her tense and almost let go, but as she clung tighter, he felt her body relax and sink against him. It helped him to let go of his own tense breath and further succumb to the embrace.

    ¡°You are enough, so...stop trying to take on the world.¡±

    She wrapped her uninjured arm around his torso and onto his shoulder and squeezed as though for dear life, and it somehow made his heart leap into his throat as he felt the powerful, slender fingers pressed into his back. It wasn¡¯t until he felt wetness on his chest that he realized she began to weep, shaking while trying not to cry.

    He glanced down, then stroked her hair as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

    ¡°Let it out, Sheeva. You¡¯ll feel better. I got you.¡± He encouraged her. A dam of emotion broke, and he held her delicately as she leaned against him for support.

    ¡°I am so sorry. You deserved better. To not have known me at all. Forgive me. Please, forgive me.¡± Sheeva pleaded desperately amid sobs.

    Tazaro waited it out as he thought of a meaningful answer, thankful that Vincent was not home tonight. He did not want him walking in on this bare, painful moment.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to forgive, Sheeva. If anything, I think you need to forgive yourself. I don¡¯t blame you for Mom¡¯s death. I know you can hold your own. This guy...this guy might be a, uh, Sferran-Ta¡¯hal like you. Maybe he had more training somewhere or something. Maybe he¡¯s some crazy fucking demigod. Regardless, you didn¡¯t kill my mother. He did. We can¡¯t forget that. I¡¯m not going to, at least.¡± He began when she had calmed down. He tried not to think about how awkwardly he was covered in sweat; she was like a furnace against him. One hand moved to massage her back gently.

    ¡°I¡¯m-I am grateful to have known you at all.¡± He murmured, smiling softly.

    He felt her nose dip against his skin as she nodded against his chest, apparently taking comfort in their closeness. How her eyelashes, despite being wet, brushed against his skin, and her reddened cheeks heated against his shoulder as she rested her head against it. How she sighed and hummed contentedly, almost as though swooning over his caress.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± She whispered. Her hushed voice tickled his chest and tingled in his ears and made his entire being swell with joy, glad to be the one she opened up to and allowed to witness her breakdown and hopefully shed a little light on her gloomy, must-bear-the-shame-of-the-world view in return. He pressed his cheek on the top of her head and held her a little tighter to himself.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Sheeva."

    Sheeva basked in his warmth, losing herself in his embrace as she sighed deeply, allowing his words to etch themselves into her muddled, foggy brain. She gave a small chuckle and soaked in as much of the serenity she felt as possible, pressed herself further into his form, thankful that he had not pushed her away, but rather, solidified his hug. The small peck he placed on the top of her head made her heart flip in her chest, but, determined to play it off as nothing, Sheeva began to voice her gratitude.

    "I appreciate your hospitality and for allowing me to mourn, and,¡± Sheeva paused, trying to collect her thoughts. ¡°For your adamance regarding my innocence and forgiveness of myself." Her voice was incredibly docile, full of peace and sincerity, and almost happiness. Tazaro didn''t look down at her but still felt her cheek pressed against his shoulder.  "I want to work on that. I owe it to myself, I believe."

    Tazaro felt a wave of relief wash over him, and he smiled.

    "Good. I''m glad. You deserve that. Everyone does." He whispered, running his fingers along the outside of the bit of wing that poked out from her shirt while contemplating going through with giving her a tender kiss, as he almost had when he¡¯d first held her face in his hands.

    However, as he played with the vane of a feather, it pulled out of its spot. His face paled, and his breath caught as he stared at it in horror.

    ¡°Shit! Fuck! I¡¯m so sorry! I didn¡¯t mean to do that! It just fell out¨CI didn¡¯t even pull on it that hard, I swear!¡± He babbled, voice an octave higher in his panicked alarm. She laughed and pulled away, wiping at her eyes with her hand, then dried off Tazaro¡¯s chest with the sleeve of her shirt. He didn¡¯t look at her, still mortified at the feather in his hand.

    Way to fucking go, you imbecile! He thought to himself, turning the mood-shattering thing over in his hand.

    ¡°It is alright. It did not hurt. Because it fell out so easily, it is expected¨Cpart of the molting process.¡± She explained, waving the matter off and taking a step back.

    ¡°Molting?¡± He asked, finally looking at her. Whatever molting was, it sounded disturbing.

    ¡°Mm-hmm. Feathers are like scales. Reptiles shed. Bugs shed. Birds shed. It¡¯s all the same.¡± She explained. She stepped back to the sink, grabbed her half-finished glass of water, downed it, filled it again, and headed for the hallway.

    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    She halted and looked back at him in the doorway, taking an interest in the way the morning sun illuminated natural spots of light hair amid his chestnut brown locks as they framed his face. She scoffed at herself and shook her head.

    ¡°Keep it if you want. Just don¡¯t use it as a quill; my feathers are not pretty enough.¡± She paused, thinking about something. ¡°And, don¡¯t powder and snort it or eat it, either.¡± She chuckled and walked away, muttering something about ¡°inbred backwoods bastards.¡±

    Tazaro chuckled at Sheeva¡¯s insult and smiled, noting how much better he felt. He turned the feather over in his fingers, admiring the sheen it reflected. Blinking with a thought, Tazaro made a sour face as he realized that he, too, would eventually molt and scrunched his nose at the idea of feathers all over the place. He huffed and snorted; between the two of them, perhaps they would shed enough to make a decent set of pillows.

    He bared his own wings, gritting his teeth at the sting, still getting used to the stretch and pull as they slid out of his shoulders, and angled it to examine the thing. The pattern of feathers was much more noticeable now as they grew into place, beginning to hide the unappealing, leathery, pinkish-grey skin that reminded him of a naked cat.

    Tazaro pulled out a chair from the dining table, turned it around, and sat, laying his head on the polished oakwood slab as he basked in the morning sun, the warmth lulling him back into a much-needed snooze.

    <hr>

    After spending a couple of days perfecting the cast of the illumination spell Sheeva taught him, Tazaro sat at his desk as he tested different ways to manipulate the light. So far, he could shrink and dim it or enlarge and brighten it by simply opening and closing his fist and bringing his hand close to the center of his body or moving it away. With the shutters closed and further covered with a sheet, Sheeva and Tazaro felt confident that outsiders would be unable to see weird, flashing lights from Tazaro¡¯s bedroom window, allowing him to test out as many different things as he wanted to. Try as he might, Tazaro could not force the light through the wall or solid objects but could materialize the light inside an empty space, such as a lantern or a drawer, highly amused and eagerly beginning to plan ways he could prank someone.

    However, his entertainment was cut short each time as he realized the number of people he could prank and later confide in was incredibly small, limited to Vincent, Micah, and Tyler, leading Tazaro to the decision that his newfound talents were best kept as secret as possible.

    Sheeva occupied herself with the book she had started a week ago. Roughly halfway through, she felt disappointed at the turn of events and deceptions and betrayals between the two main characters, and if any of her favorites were to die, Sheeva told herself she would put the book down for good. It was a moot point since she was already well invested in the story and needed to see it through to its end, however bitter it might be.

    Tazaro maneuvered the ball of light to rest in a beaker he¡¯d been drinking water from, dimmed it, then brightened it, wondering if it would meet the limitations of the glass. Slowly opening his hand, he found that it did indeed swell to fill the container.

    He felt her eyes on him, and in nerves, a burst of energy shot through to the ball of light. The container burst, spilling water all over his desk and into his lap. Too late, he groaned and shoved himself back, the wheels he attached to the legs of the chair squeaking as they did. They needed to be oiled again.

    He grabbed a nearby towel and dabbed at his soaked pants, flashing her a sheepish warning frown as she giggled at his unintended antics.

    Putting her book aside, Sheeva formed some loopy sigils, then one that looked like a flame, and waved her hand. The water on the table dissipated into steam, leaving the table perfectly dry, and as she tapped him, he felt the fabric of his pants and the towel he used become instantly dry and weightless.

    ¡°Now that one, I really want to know!¡± He commented, checking to see for sure if he was actually dry or if it was simply his imagination. If he could use it on himself, there would be no need for towels ever again!

    ¡°Perhaps when you get better with controlling your energies. Manipulating water is pretty difficult, though I will say you¡¯ve done remarkably well. Bringing water to a new plane of existence? So few in training learn so much, so soon!¡± She teased with a hissing snicker at her own joke. He gave her a skeptical look, though his lip still curled, amused and impressed with her jab.

    ¡°Ha, ha.¡± He deadpanned, draping the now dry towel over the foot of his bed.

    ¡°Manipulating water is difficult, huh? As opposed to, what, making lights appear out of thin air?¡± He questioned. ¡°Because¨Chonestly¨Cthat one makes no sense, considering all the physics I¡¯ve had to endure.¡±

    Sheeva shrugged, taking ¡°physics¡± to be some more of the crazy math she found in a textbook of his that she had opened out of curiosity. She¡¯d closed it almost immediately, highly intimidated and perplexed, because why the hell would someone integrate the alphabet, and worse, symbols, with something that was already hard to do?

    ¡°I do not know everything, Tazaro, but it seems more difficult to work with water because of everything that can be done to water. You can freeze it into ice, you can melt it into a liquid, and you can boil it into steam.¡± She answered, demonstrating with her flask of water. She trailed a multiple-pointed sigil in the air and touched the water with the tip of her finger, and it froze solid in seconds, crackling and crisping as the familiar fogginess of ice crept down the side of the glass.

    Just the tiny presentation drained her, and she supported herself on the dresser as she pushed herself back to lean against the mountain of pillows once more, settling into the fluffy things with an exhausted pshew!

    ¡°Oh. That took a lot out of you. Are you alright?¡± He voiced, concerned. She shrugged and waved it off, but he noticed her slow blinking and the flush of exertion on her face. With his beaker shattered and her glass of water frozen, Tazaro searched for her water pouch and handed it to her.

    She chugged deeply, relieved at the feeling of cool water.

    Musing on her sapped state, Tazaro frowned, fully realizing the stark difference between playing with light and playing with water. Sure, when he started practicing the illumination spell, it left him woozy or dizzy, but only if he had not eaten well or was dehydrated. Considering Sheeva likely had much more practice, had actually eaten well today, and had drunk plenty of water beforehand, he worried that this type of manipulation spell would probably leave him out-of-sorts for a while longer than ten seconds of dizziness.

    ¡°Do you have any fire spells that I could learn? I don¡¯t know if I am ready for anything water-related.¡± He asked, unsure of himself.

    The surprised look on her face took him for a turn.

    ¡°Oh? You do not believe so? I think you might be. Though I was teasing you, I, ah, was serious when I said you¡¯d been doing remarkably well.¡±

    His blush splayed on his cheeks in an instant, and he grinned broadly, beaming from ear to ear.

    ¡°Did I...say something funny?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine! Great! Heh, uh, you know what they say¨Cpay a man a compliment, and he¡¯ll remember it for the rest of his life!¡± Tazaro sputtered, turning towards his desk to look for a reasonable excuse for a subject change.

    Sheeva hummed to herself thoughtfully, intrigued at the new phrase. Of all the ¡°-isms¡± she had heard in her travels, this was a new one, but it seemed there was something sad about it.

    Tazaro heard her give a disapproving hum and nibbled at his lip.

    ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m more comfortable with something fire-related because I know I¡¯ve already done it before if that makes sense.¡± He briefly heard her hum in agreement before continuing on. ¡°I want to start with what I know before moving on, you know?¡± He explained.

    Sheeva nodded, accepting his request.

    ¡°If that is what you want to do, we can work on fire breathing next week, though it might be something that needs to wait until we reach the temple. The last thing we need to add to Vincent¡¯s plate is a burned-down home.¡± She agreed.

    He nodded, grateful for her willingness to go along with the simple request.

    ¡°So, is it ever possible for a spell to, uh, kill you¨Clike, if you used too much energy or something?¡± He asked, now even more concerned and wary, though he trusted she would not teach him any life-threatening spells unless they were in an emergency situation, and even then, she probably still wouldn¡¯t. Sheeva thought for a moment, a dour, eerie aura looming about her.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure there are. Dr. Marx might know more about that. I¡¯d be willing to bet that most spells like that are forbidden and with obvious reason.¡± She admitted, squinting her eyes at the thought of a healing spell powerful enough to bring back the dead that would leave its caster as a pile of decaying rubble.

    ¡°What were you trying to do?¡± Sheeva asked, eager to change the subject.

    Tazaro cleared his throat and straightened up to lean back in his chair, unaware of how tensely he awaited her response.

    ¡°Just playing around with the light. It seems you can change the brightness. Here. Let me show you.¡± He offered. With an amused grin, he scooted to the switch by his door, turned off the gas supply to the lantern, and rolled back over to her, an action that Sheeva huffed at since Ivan Marx enjoyed wheeling around on a spinning chair, as well. Tazaro focused, and with a wave of his hand, a new ball of light rose from his palm to illuminate their faces.

    He closed his fingers together, and the ball shrunk, then became large as he opened them like he discovered. As he pushed his hand away from the center of his chest, the light brightened until it was almost blinding. Reigning it back, the light dimmed as he brought his hand close toward his chest.

    ¡°See? Isn¡¯t that neat? I think it¡¯s fun.¡± He asked, an excited grin on his face. She smirked at his childish fascination, even though she held the same curiosity.

    Tazaro had thought of something she had never considered, and if she were honest, it embarrassed her. She began to wonder how many times she could have prevented blinding herself in the darkness with a misplaced spawn point that happened to be directly in front of her face.

    ¡°Yeah. It is.¡± She answered shortly, biting back the screwy, self-conscious smile that threatened her face. She found herself studying his face in the dim light, inspired by the unabashed joy on it. His citrine eyes glimmered with passion, eyes curved in a smile, no longer plagued by puffiness and a tired gaze. She felt her own eyes curl in turn, satisfied to note he found some level of peace, enough to sleep decently over the last week.

    ¡°Hm. I wonder¡­¡± Tazaro¡¯s eyebrows furrowed in thought, and Sheeva watched the hue of light on his cheeks turn from white to red. Surprised, she looked down at the floating light, now glowing a bright, gentle red.

    ¡°How did you do that?¡± She asked. He directed the light to rest in the lantern that hung from the ceiling, and it splashed a gentle, rose-colored hue along the less-blank white walls. Tazaro had taken it upon himself to pin up more of his sketches and accomplishments over the last week, to which Sheeva enjoyed. Though she knew it wasn¡¯t exclusive and that she repeatedly reminded herself that her feelings were likely some silly, delusional fantasy, she felt as though she were privy to a side of him that no one else had the benefit of seeing.

    ¡°Watch. Twist your hand like this.¡± He said, turning his hand like he was turning a dial. The ball of light flicked to orange, faded through to yellow, then filled with green and darkened to blue as he continued to turn. He sat back in his chair, mesmerized with how the light reflected off the mirror and filled the room with a warm, purple hue.

    ¡°It¡¯s so freaking cool.¡± He muttered.

    Sheeva waved her hand, casting a ball of light of her own. Testing out what he showed her, she found herself able to change the color as well. She almost squealed with excitement¨Chow long it had been since she¡¯d discovered something new! She directed it to sit beside Tazaro¡¯s light and turned her hand until the shade was a serene shade of goldenrod. She gave a rare chuckle at herself and took a deep breath, enjoying the calm that washed over her.

    Doubting her ability to say what she wanted to loudly enough, she leaned forward and rested her arms on her knees. She fixed her gaze on the floor and braced herself.

    ¡°You are a clever man, Tazaro. Thank you. Ah, I am sorry if I am out of place.¡± She murmured, trying to still her heartbeat as her worrisome thoughts began to race. Would he accept her compliment? Would it estrange them even further?

    He seemed to avoid her whenever they occupied the kitchen simultaneously. It sent her into an overthinking mess, unable to determine whether or not she was rude, considering she did not ask to invade his space like she should have. In my defense, she consoled herself, I was pretty distraught, but he also did not push me away.

    Tazaro swiveled around in his chair to look at her and leaned an arm on the bed, heavily confused. Her mouth was pressed in an adorable pout, and she brought her knees up toward her chest to hold them with her cast arm while twirling her hair in nerves with the other. He could not imagine the temple having anything to do with a reluctance to dish out compliments, even if unasked for or possibly unwarranted. Still, he had learned stranger things within the last couple of weeks.

    ¡°No, thank you. What would you possibly be out of place for?¡± He asked, hoping she would clarify.

    Sheeva, feeling a spot of embarrassment upon realizing that he hadn¡¯t even considered her compliments offensive or unwarranted, paused to collect herself. With a clearing breath and her bout of courage, she gathered the words to the tip of her tongue before she could swallow them back.

    ¡°Hm. Complimenting you in that way. It is not something I am used to. I was not sure if it would be unwelcome, or...¡± She paused to find a better way to explain. ¡°Rude.¡± She decided.

    He gave a soft chuckle.

    ¡°You¡¯re silly sometimes, you know that? Sheeva,¡± He braced himself. ¡°Friends compliment each other all the time.¡± He assured her. She stopped and let go of the lock of hair mingled between her fingers. It fell around the side of her face as pink tinted her cheeks, and he thought he saw the flash of surprise shadow her face before the corner of her mouth curled in a warm, gentle, out-of-character smile.

    His heart jumped into his throat, and he immediately smiled back, put at ease to witness the sensitivity behind the stoic front she fought to keep up.

    ¡°Friends, huh?¡± She asked, giddy.

    ¡°Uh, well, yeah? I mean, we-we are friends, right?¡± He answered. Fidgeting to alleviate the awkwardness he was beginning to feel, he focused on the purple ball of light and began to trace patterns with his finger, amused when the light bounced back and forth with the directions he outlined in the air.

    It wasn¡¯t so much the fact that he considered her as a friend that had Sheeva on guard, but the reminder it gave toward the awkward conversation Sheeva had shared with Vincent following Tazaro¡¯s winging three weeks ago. Eager to push her boundaries as he had suggested, Sheeva rationalized that, after everything that had happened, she and Tazaro could have ended up spiteful enemies instead of amicable friends.

    ¡°Hm. I suppose I could add you to my list.¡± She stated.

    ¡°Awesome. Am I the first one on that list?¡± Tazaro shot back with a joke, then shut his mouth, bracing for the biting retort.

    Silence followed, and he turned his head to look at her. He must have struck a nerve; she was back in her fierce, stern, cold stare.

    ¡°Sorry, I was just teasing you. That was automatic.¡±

    With the way she blinked and looked at him in confusion, Tazaro wondered if perhaps she had been reminded about something else, entirely.

    ¡°What? No, it is fine. I was¡­¡± She sighed deeply and pursed her lips with an annoyed expression as she chose her next words. ¡°I am still getting used to, ah, showing this side of myself. Being this, ah, vulnerable.¡± She mused.

    Still, she huffed at her hesitance, finding more and more that she was oddly confident in baring pieces of herself she¡¯d kept hidden for years. It was something she¡¯d realized in the middle of a sleepless night that left her feeling unnaturally cheerful, overwhelmingly grateful, and, when she managed to accept such a thing, pleased with herself and her growth.

    Tazaro hummed in relation, all too familiar with the nerves she was likely experiencing. Every teasing jab he directed toward her seemed to make him put himself on thin ice, and every moment of silence after showing her something he was passionate about made his gut twist and turn in anticipation. Upon a deep moment of introspection on a sleepless night, he understood that Kirin had impacted him much more than he realized.

    However, with how crestfallen or angry Sheeva seemed to get over something about herself, he had an inkling that personal experience took a major role in things.

    ¡°I¨C¡± He began, then hesitated, and when she looked at him expectantly, Tazaro found a spot of courage. ¡°I know you told me about the Iphsium den, but are there other instances where you were¡­¡± He trailed off in thought of an accurate word. ¡°Uh, judged?¡±

    Her face fell, and she dropped her head, ashamed.

    ¡°There was a family I was staying with for a short time while recovering from a sprained ankle. I had a nasty brush with a Snow Sahagin along the northwest tundra.¡±

    Her lip curled into a disgusted sneer, and Tazaro wondered what for but held his tongue, not wanting to receive another side-glance for interrupting.

    ¡°Their child, Johannes, had climbed himself into a tree and was terrified of climbing down, as, well, children seem to do.¡± She chuckled softly, recalling a moment where she had been stuck up in a tree and Rose had to rescue her.

    ¡°Anyway, this was when I was still naive and thought that people on the outside world would accept my winged state, as the people in Malfa Temple had. Johannes slipped and began to fall, so I bared my wings, flew up, and caught him. At the time, I didn¡¯t care what the others thought. I only cared for Johannes¡¯s safety. When it became apparent that I was not appreciated, I cast a befuddling spell on his parents and fled.¡± She explained, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on them.

    Tazaro sighed. He wished there was something that he could say. To be honest, if he and Sheeva hadn¡¯t already been cordial or if he hadn¡¯t been harboring a crush, Tazaro thought he might have been scared out of his wits, too, if she¡¯d suddenly grown a giant pair of wings and taken flight.

    ¡°I have...had to accept that it is¨Cah, no¡­was,¡± She corrected herself, intent on remembering her important, late-night realizations. ¡°Was impossible for someone to accept me as I am. Though people often don¡¯t see my ta¡¯hal side, I am still Cruinian, and it seems that even that is cause for prejudice. I feel that most people do not understand that I can be just as good as any other, and...well, I am Sferran, too.¡± She answered. It was her turn to fidget with her ball of light. Her red eyes held sadness in them, and he found himself frowning.

    ¡°Impossible, huh? You¡¯re a very black-and-white person, aren¡¯t you?¡±

    She did not like the rabbit hole of thought the statement sent her down and struggled to crawl out of it before falling too deeply into it.

    ¡°I wish I could say it is not fair, but there are many things in life that are not fair, nor can I demand them to be.¡± She announced with a resigned sigh and tut of disapproval.

    He remained silent for a few moments, angered on her behalf.

    ¡°But you¡¯re right; it¡¯s not fair!¡± He argued, finally finding his voice.

    She scoffed away her speck of appreciation, knowing that there was a bigger matter at hand.

    ¡°What I determine as right or wrong and fair or unfair for myself may be different to another. Who am I to be selfish and force my opinions on others?¡± She countered.

    ¡°So, you¡¯re just going to let yourself be looked down upon like that?¡± He countered, frustrated.

    Sheeva grunted, and scowled at the thought. She¡¯d already been looked down upon enough, and wasn¡¯t about to take any more.

    ¡°To hell with that!¡± She snarled. ¡°No. Others will think what they think. I don¡¯t need to appease anyone.¡±

    Inspired but wanting clarification, Tazaro cleared his throat, stood, sat next to her on the bed, then leaned back against the wall.

    ¡°I¡¯m impressed. You¡¯re not worried about what other people think?¡± He asked, amazed.

    Sheeva froze slightly, realizing that, yes, she was still concerned with what some people thought¨Cnamely, the few friends she had made, and definitely, the man now sitting quite close. She gave a soft ¡°feh!¡± at her nerves to ease the butterflies riled up in her stomach.

    ¡°...No.¡± She stated as evenly as she could. ¡°Nothing to worry about if you don¡¯t let it get to you. Sure, I hide my Ta¡¯hal side and sometimes my Cruinian side, but only out of necessity. Better to hide than be run out of every town I come to and labeled as a monster.¡±

    Tazaro¡¯s head rested against the wall as he mulled her statement over. He noticed that she hadn¡¯t personally labeled herself as a monster again, and it made him relieved.

    ¡°Hm. So is that why you play the good samaritan?¡± He asked with a mildly teasing grin. ¡°Make a better name for Cruinians?¡±

    ¡°I do not play¨CShe began quickly, defensive and self-conscious.

    ¨CYeah, no, Sheeva, you kind of do.¡± He cut off, shaking his head at her.

    Sheeva silenced as she thought about it in earnest, then smiled softly to herself. When she considered the children, the painter, and even her willingness to fight to the death for Tazaro and his mother, she realized she had turned into something of a ¡°good samaritan.¡±

    ¡°Feh!¡± She huffed mockingly. ¡°I, I suppose you¡¯re right.¡±

    ¡°Of course I am!¡± He replied with a cocky grin that flashed on his face in an instant.

    He glanced back at his light, finding it had faded without a sufficient focus, and directed a burst of energy to it. It was an odd feeling of tingling warmth flowing from his chest and down his arm, and finally, into his fingers, as though the ball were a yarn spool and he was the feed of thread.

    Like a game of bocce ball, Tazaro bid his light to knock hers around the room to break her out of her thoughts. He chuckled at the well of cheer budding in his chest. She gave a huff of air at the childishness of it all, secretly amused with the way the lights bounced off themselves, the wall, ceiling, and furniture. When their lights collided with the dresser and caused the mirror sitting on top to wobble, they dismissed their spells immediately in caution, leaving them both shrouded in pure darkness.

    ¡°We should, um, be more careful.¡± She insisted as though to quell her sense of fun. Tazaro gave an eye roll, thankful they were still in darkness.

    ¡°Yeah. You were having fun, though. I saw that smile on your face.¡± He teased, reaching for the still frozen glass in the darkness, eager to use it to cool his blushing cheeks. He found it by the dim light that shined in through the cracks in the doorframe and beyond the blanket.

    ¡°You saw nothing.¡± She replied, a softened undertone hiding behind her snip.

    Sheeva cast her light first, then dimmed it and bid it to hover over her head. He summoned his light, too, finding it was a little more complicated, beginning to feel the tire of it weigh on his body as it sapped from a wider area of his torso.

    ¡°You know, other than the stick up your ass, you¡¯re pretty cool,¡± Tazaro announced. He grinned as he heard her chuckle, greatly surprised when she shoved him playfully with her foot.

    ¡°I do not have a stick up my ass, boy.¡± She grunted. ¡°I like to think I use it to beat people up.¡± She corrected with a small laugh. His astonished, amused-with-the-image laughter rumbled from his chest, and it felt good. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, wanting to hold onto his joy for a later time when he needed it.

    Calmed, he looked for his light. It disappeared, no longer having the focus of its owner. Hers was still shining brightly, and he watched as it faded in and out of a color cycle while she circled her finger. He recast his and launched it up at the ceiling, watching it bounce softly like a ball dropped on the floor. He held his breath as it narrowly missed the glass lampshade, then sighed as it rolled toward the mirror set up on his dresser.

    Movement beside him snared his attention, and he turned to look at her. Tazaro watched Sheeva shift to sit on her heels, then blinked as a warm, soft hand took his and squeezed. It made the butterflies in his stomach go haywire as his heart kicked into overdrive, especially with the serene, natural smile that spread into her rosy cheeks.

    Curious, he glanced at their reflection in the mirror, wondering if such a thing was really happening or if he had fallen asleep and this was some vivid, tangible dream. It was not, and his orb of light made a fizzling sound followed by a small ¡°pop¡± as it lost the energy feed from its caster.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Sheeva whispered, eyes soft and captivating as she gazed back at him. Tazaro¡¯s skin flared with thrill as he watched her peaceful rubies glance towards his lips before she looked away, the tiny curl of her smile tucked in the corner of her mouth.

    ¡°Any time, Sheeva.¡± He murmured, much more excited as he witnessed the unabashed joy in her beaming smile as he squeezed her hand in return and inched closer. He picked up on how sensitive his lips were by the vibration of his earnest words, and a ripple of goosebumps broke onto his arms as she shifted closer, too, eyes gently shut and lips mere inches from his. His heart swelled as he caressed the back of her knuckles with his thumb.

    A knock sounded on the door that caused both of them to jump, gasping in surprise, then pull away, Sheeva swearing with a ¡°damn it!¡± and Tazaro letting out a groan of frustration. As Sheeva¡¯s fluttering heart regulated itself again, she directed a furious glare at whoever was behind the door.

    Vincent¡¯s voice sounded from behind it.

    ¡°Hey, just wanted to let you know, people outside can see your little, uh, light show, or whatever?¡±

    The confusion shadowed their annoyance, and both heads turned to look at the window. The sheet that they had covered the thing with had fallen, a couple of tacks still holding strong as they fastened the fabric to the ledge. Tazaro had to admit, he was surprised, considering how many tacks he had used.

    Sheeva, however, dropped her gaze to look as she saw the sheet shake in no wind, and glared at the ragora, caught red-handed with a corner of the sheet in its mouth. The damn cabbage had snatched the sheet and yanked it free and was currently nomming on the thing like it was a delicious steak.

    She pointed her finger at it and threatened to ¡°chop it up and cook it in a stew,¡± ignoring Tazaro¡¯s blatant protest and blocking her advance towards it with a hand. Even though the ¡°sentient cabbage¡± had no eyes, Tazaro swore it gave them a cheeky grin before sticking out a long purple, thorny tongue.

    Vincent finally entered, amused, having heard Sheeva¡¯s interesting threat of cooking the ragora into a stew.

    ¡°How will you manage that?¡± He asked with a smirk.

    ¡°I think julienned and sauteed with some red onion and sausage will do nicely,¡± Sheeva grumbled. Though she glanced at Tazaro, she felt her face redden as she caught him glancing back before he, too, looked away in sheepishness. She shuffled towards the head of the bed and pulled herself under the covers.

    ¡°Goodnight; I¡¯m going to bed!¡± She announced, turning her back on them, despite what had to be an uncomfortable position.

    ¡°Yeah, me too,¡± Tazaro announced, too quickly to pass it off as casual.

    He stepped past Vincent as calmly as he possibly could, not wanting to snare the man¡¯s outrageously high perception, though as he felt eyes follow him, he knew it was pointless to hide. Vincent¡¯s gaze followed, as did the snickers that trailed down the hallway as Vincent paused to shut the door, then pursued. Still attempting to continue the ¡°I¡¯m fine¡± facade, Tazaro reached for the throw blanket on the back of the couch. With an irritated huff, he plopped down onto it with his back to the room before Vincent had the chance to ask questions.

    Still, ask questions Vincent did, and of course, it began with an accusatory: ¡°What were you two doing?¡±

    His stomach fluttered and his heart almost plopped out of his mouth.

    ¡°Nothing¨CTalking.¡± Tazaro forced, making a face at himself for his slip-up.

    ¡°Kissing is definitely a form of talk¨C

    ¨Cwe weren¡¯t kissing.¡± Tazaro corrected, then huffed.

    ¡°Right. I wasn¡¯t even gone that long, and you¡¯re already¨C

    ¨CKnock it off, Vincent,¡± Tazaro snapped, sitting up to shoot Vincent a glare, though even he could tell it was a mussed-up, embarrassed smile.

    Vincent simply gave a deadpan stare, and arched an eyebrow.

    ¡°I¡¯m so convinced, Tazaro,¡± He stated sarcastically. ¡°Not that it¡¯s any of my business what you two were doing,¡± He added.

    ¡°You¡¯re right¨Cit¡¯s not,¡± Tazaro fired back, apparently surprising Vincent with the retort.

    Still Vincent chuckled, and sat down in his chair.

    ¡°Alright¡­so why the ¡®bat-out-of-hell¡¯ escape? A really, really awkward conversation?¡±

    ¡°No, no, we were¡­¡± He couldn¡¯t dredge up an excuse, too disappointed and distracted with the rapidly beating thing in his chest. ¡°We were pretty close to kissing.¡± He grumbled, trying to downplay his hopes as the shadow of excitement buzzed on his lips.

    ¡°Heh, called it.¡± Vincent agreed.

    Tazaro frowned.

    ¡°You have terrible fucking timing, you know,¡± Tazaro grumbled, then glanced over his shoulder at Vincent, who was beginning his wind-down routine from a brisk walk: off with the glasses, chug a glass of water, cool down in his chair before gathering the energy to take a shower.

    ¡°If you weren¡¯t smooching,¡± Vincent started, smirking as he watched Tazaro flip him a rude gesture. ¡°What were you doing? What was with the flickering lights?¡±

    Gathering up the rest of his haywire energy, Tazaro collected it into one last orb, waved his hand, and hovered the weak light over his hand, then showed Vincent everything that he had learned thanks to the old, reliable tactic of ¡°fuck around and find out.¡±

    ¡°Wow! Now that¡¯s cool!¡± He blurted, mesmerized by the tiny thing that now rested in the palm of his hand. He pushed it around with a finger, then bounced it in his hand.

    ¡°Yeah, it is. I¡¯m gonna dispel it, though. Feeling pretty drained.¡± Tazaro muttered, raising his hand to dismiss it.

    ¡°No, wait, wait! I want to try something!¡± Vincent pleaded. Tazaro paused with an eyebrow curled, then nodded, curious.

    Vincent rolled the thing into the middle of his palm, tucked a finger behind his thumb, and flicked at the ball of light, grinning like a fool as it sailed through the air and bounced a couple of times along the carpet before rolling underneath the ottoman.

    ¡°Ow! Tok za vilg, Vincent?¡± Tazaro barked out.

    Vincent jerked in his chair, instantly remorseful.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, that actually hurt you? I had no idea! I¡¯m sorry¨C

    ¨CIt didn¡¯t, no. I¡¯m just fucking with you!¡± Tazaro laughed, waving his hand to dismiss the spell. The pool of light from beneath the ottoman faded.

    As Tazaro settled onto the couch and tucked the pillow beneath his head, he found his antics had not fully alleviated the awkwardness he still felt and wondered how much more they could take before one or both of them caved...or ran.

    ¡°I need to sleep. Have a good shift.¡± He grunted before closing his eyes and allowing the weight of tiredness to carry him off into a thankful slumber.

 Chapter 21: The Meaning of Lifeâ€¦

    As Tazaro sat at his desk to practice breathing fire to light the wick of a portable lantern, Sheeva skimmed through one of his sketchbooks she found buried in his desk. She happened upon it when they looked for a better place for the ragora since it would chitter in fear whenever Tazaro would practice with the fire spell.

    While Tazaro disappeared for a few seconds to place the frightened plant in the kitchen on the windowsill, Sheeva stuck the tattered, brown-leather book beneath her pillow.

    Hopefully, Burke would be happier in the kitchen, finally receiving all the scraps and sunlight it could want.

    She paused on the page of a prankful spyglass that would give someone a black eye upon use, suddenly remembering that he had completed the Stargazer and had asked her if she wanted to be there for its ¡°maiden voyage,¡± so-to-speak.

    Rather, she was certain he was going to ask her if it could be a ¡°date,¡± but she fought to still the butterflies in her stomach at the reminder and forced the words to her mouth before she could digest them back.

    ¡°Do you still want to see if your Stargazer works?¡±

    Tazaro stopped and turned to look at her, somehow having forgotten about the Stargazer, and upon seeing the notebook, his face paled. He reached for it, and she handed it to him.

    ¡°Where did you find this?¡± He asked, embarrassed that she saw all the silly prankster things he wanted to make. Even worse, the ridiculous names he tried to coin for them.

    ¡°Your desk.¡± She answered, unconcerned. ¡°About the Stargazer, did you still want to test it out?¡± She asked again, genuinely curious. He blinked and nodded slowly, a nervous smile on his face as he recalled that he had been planning to use it as a possible date. He wondered if the bottle of wine he had even bought in anticipation was still there.

    ¡°Um, sure? Didn¡¯t get a chance to because¡­it was raining the night before we left.¡± He admitted, not about to ¡°rehash the coroner¡¯s report.¡± He shoved the book deep into the desk drawer, still embarrassed.

    ¡°How about now?¡± She asked. He jerked his head back to her.

    Sheeva almost laughed at the look on his face coupled with how forcefully he turned his head. The uncertainty grew in his now worried citrine eyes. She nodded at him and gave what she hoped was an encouraging smile for reassurance.

    ¡°I am serious, you know. I would not ask such a thing so lightly.¡± She stated, more sternly than she intended.

    Tazaro¡¯s eyes widened at her adamance, and he felt an awkward smirk stretch the corner of his mouth.

    ¡°We¡¯d have to cover your wing somehow,¡± He countered. He leaned back in his chair and propped his foot upon the edge of his desk. Since their conversation during the thunderstorm, he began to embrace comfortable positions such as this. Sheeva paid it no mind, and the only harm it did was give him a dead leg if he did it for too long.

    Sheeva slipped off of the bed, stepped next to him, and leaned up over his desk to peer at the sky through the open window. Oblivious to his looking her over in interest, she was thankful to see the clear skies littered with stars. Sheeva backed off, rapidly trailed a sigil in the air, and closed her eyes in focus for something.

    Tazaro, wondering what kind of spell she was trying to cast, waited.

    And waited.

    And waited some more.

    When whatever was supposed to happen didn''t, Sheeva grumbled about it and grabbed the small, green blanket off of his bed to wrap around her head and shoulders.

    ¡°Let us go now. The sky is clear. If it truly does work, we should be able to see many things.¡± She suggested with a cheerful glint in her eye and a slight smile on her lips.

    "What spell was that supposed to be?" He asked. Sheeva waved it off.

    "Disguising spell. I apparently don''t have the energy for it." She pouted, then seemed to perk up again.

    "But, come on, let¡¯s go see! Don''t you want to know if it works? You worked so hard on it!" She goaded.

    He felt his lips curl at her contagious excitement, and he dropped his leg from the desk. He turned to her and leaned his head on his arm. Maybe, he could elicit more of this...adorableness, if he dared to describe it that way.

    ¡°The workshop''s likely locked.¡± He reminded her, though as he thumbed through his keyring, found the key for the workshop. Hopefully, Rin had not had a mind to change the locks, and the key would still work. Maybe, he could joke with her, somehow, or convince her to show him how to pick a lock.

    She fought a roll of her eyes and thought of a retort, wondering if he was embarrassed or frightened about showing her what he had worked so hard on. As she studied the playful smile on his face and the amusement in his eyes, she slowly understood that he was messing with her, as he had been doing often lately.

    ¡°I can pick the lock.¡± She replied, giving him a mischievous smirk. That expression was a first, and it sent a thrill through his veins as he wondered if she had a playful side he was unaware of. His eyes widened, and a smile cracked on his face at the thought of it.

    He told himself that if Rin caught him in the workshop, he would be happier to see him alive than mad, showing a similar reaction to their situation as Tyler had.

    "And if that fails, I''ll break down the door, and I just might be inclined to use your head to do so."

    Tazaro frowned and scoffed indignantly.

    ¡°That¡¯s not¨C¡± He began, about to say necessary, but as he realized he was almost out of protests and that she was insistent due to what appeared to be genuine curiosity, he relented quickly.

    ¡°Alright.¡± He agreed. Sheeva seemed to skip to and knelt by her bag to grab her lockpicking tools, then walked through the bedroom door with an unnatural pep in her step. Tazaro paused to shut his bedroom door, chuckling to himself as she continued down the hall.

    Vincent was sitting in his usual chair, nose stuffed in a book, though watching the two, as always, over the cracked spine of what Tazaro figured to be a science-fiction novel, given by the grotesque, slimy alien creature on the book cover.

    ¡°You two are the bravest zombies I¡¯ve ever met. Heading out?¡± Vincent asked, shooting a knowing look after the two of them.

    ¡°Uh, yeah. I guess. It¡¯s the dead of night. Should be fine.¡± Tazaro answered. Sheeva did not wait around, and briefly paused to utter a hasty ¡°see you later,¡± then stepped out into the cool night air. ¡°We¡¯ll, uh, stick to the back-roads,¡± He assured.

    ¡°Right. Make good choices!¡± Vincent said with a wave and a smile.

    Tazaro ignored the comment and rushed out the door, looking for Sheeva. She had already made it down the steps and appeared to be waiting for him in a nonchalant lean against the stairway rail. With how eager she seemed to get outside, it surprised him a little that she would be waiting, and he turned to lock the door before following her down the rickety old steps.

    He stopped her as she started to take the main roads, redirecting them to wander the backstreets towards the workshop. Sure, it would take longer, but considering most people would be asleep at this time of night, taking the sideway lowered the risk of discovery.

    As he watched her meander a few steps ahead of him, Tazaro got the impression that Sheeva was more calm than usual, as she would take her time when looking at things, eyes fixed instead of darting around. When she stopped to stare at someone''s windowsill garden plot and plucked a few cherry tomatoes from a plant, he smiled, relieved that she could be at peace for a change.

    ¡°I think this is the first time we¡¯ve walked somewhere, and you haven¡¯t been overly cautious.¡± Tazaro pointed out. Sheeva paused, and swallowed the sweet tomato and nodded.

    ¡°Mysterious and sinister as Bartholomew may seem sometimes, I trust his information that Zakaraia is no longer on Vivroa.¡± She explained, pausing to examine the only lit doorway on their current street. The red-tinted, stained-glass oil-lantern gave the door an even creepier hue, and as she squinted her eyes to see the etchings of some indiscernible mark, she huffed at herself. With a wave of her hand, she summoned her light orb and guided it above the door frame.

    A square with a detailed carving of a leaf inside it sat amid a prism. Sheeva dismissed it as a hobo mark or denotation of a secret club. Or maybe, it was the location of an underground market. Either way, she hoped it wasn''t another branch of the lucrative and scandalous sex-club she had been duped into entering when searching for Llyud. She cringed at the thought and turned away to follow Tazaro further down the back alley street.

    Once they reached Alkurik¡¯s Plaza, Sheeva stared at the Farmer God¡¯s statue for a moment in contemplation, then stared at her reflection in the water. Her scowl was no longer befitting, and only seemed to foster a feeling of hideousness.

    ¡°You know¡­¡± She began, then stopped, crossing her arms as well as she could to self-soothe. ¡°I could have died, and¨Cand I realized that I¡¯ve¡­I feel I¡¯ve wasted so much of my life in pursuit, and have missed¡­so much.¡± She admitted, then tsked scornfully at her mushiness.

    ¡°It won¡¯t do well to be so pitiful, and sitting around is driving me nuts. I want to¡­accomplish things, to appreciate the small things, to allow myself to¡­simply be. A ¡®change of pace,¡¯ as it were. It¡¯ll be-it will be a journey of discovery.¡± She stated, then smiled, pleased with herself.

    Tazaro¡¯s solemn gaze locked onto the bale of hay on Alkurik¡¯s shoulders as it spit out a stream of water from the fountain.

    ¡°So you¡­want a change of pace with a little slice-of-life?¡± He offered, dropping his gaze to look at her for confirmation.

    Her smile only grew until it beamed, radiantly.

    ¡°Yes!¡± She affirmed, highly pleased. Feeling abnormally vulnerable and suddenly shy about it, she collected herself, and withdrew. With a chuckle, she offered a small example of one of the first things she sought to do.

    ¡°And I believe I shall start with a little stargazing with a friend,¡± she chuckled softly, and continued.

    ¡°You realize that¨Cif it works¨Cyou¡¯ve built something that can scour the heavens, and have probably unlocked vast details that we wouldn¡¯t have otherwise, right? If you wanted to, you could record everything you find and publish it!¡±

    Tazaro felt sheepish, mildly telling himself that she seemed to expect far more than he was capable of.

    ¡°Ah, well¨Cthat¡¯s if it works,¡± He downplayed, trying to remain steadfast as he shoved his hands in his pockets, fidgeting with his keys as he mused on the situation. This leisurely ¡°stroll¡± had him in a tizzy, pink on his cheeks and the cheerful nervous knot in his chest at the prospect of himself publishing a book, let alone something that could potentially revolutionize Astronomy.

    ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s keep going,¡± he urged, pressing past the statue and towards the workshop at the edge of the plaza. When they reached the door, Sheeva crouched down and fiddled with the lock before Tazaro could stop her. Instead, he looked around, hoping no one was watching as he remembered what happened in the clock tower. She stood back up, unsuccessful.

    ¡°It¡¯s much more difficult to do with this damn cast,¡± Sheeva whispered.

    "Here, let me." Tazaro fought to keep a straight face, fished his keys from his pocket, muttered a bullshit word to appear casting a spell, and opened the door.

    Sheeva copied his head-tilt of curiosity, then gave a complimentary eye-roll as he held up his keys along with a cheeky grin. She hurried past him to hide her look of amusement.

    Tazaro slipped in too, shut the door, and locked it.

    The inside was quite dark, even with the limited moonlight streaming in through the windows, and with the help of a carefully-cast illumination spell, Tazaro searched for the lantern. It was still hanging by the door, appearing untouched for a while judging by the fine layer of sawdust. The hinges to its tiny, glass-paned door squeaked as he opened it up, and, as he had spent all evening practicing, trailed the wavy fire sigil in the air and blew a breath of fire into it.

    He had to give himself credit where credit was due; he felt he had improved greatly, considering he lacked enough room to practice and worried he would accidentally burn his house down. He had already scorched his beloved oak heartwood desk, not to mention that the ragora was now terrified of his fire spell.

    Sheeva gave a ¡°hm¡± in a gentle tone, something Tazaro began to think was her way of giving him praise, but, in case he was reading too much into it, asked her nervously: what?

    "It just...pisses me off, how easy you make that look." She grunted, crossing her arms and heading towards the window display to view the furniture there.

    "Oh? Do my ears deceive me? Is that a compliment, Sheeva?" He called after her. He heard her sigh in defeat, and smirked.

    "Tam¡­It''s a compliment." She admitted, keeping her back turned to hide her smile.

    Giddy and riding high, Tazaro stared at the firelight burning away in the lantern. It spread a warm glow over him, and he shook his head as his brain threw the idea about it being romantic at him. A flicker of hope ignited itself, and he felt his pulse quicken and bring out the light, carefree cheer bubbling within. However, as he registered his cold feet, Tazaro looked around for Bartholomew, wondering if the bastard was going to interrupt them this time. He hoped not, considering that they now had complete privacy.

    His lips and fingers tingled as he began to imagine finally kissing her here, curious to know if maybe Sheeva was planning such a thing, what with all the ¡°journey of discovery¡± talk they had shared moments ago. As bemusing as his thought process was, such boldness was likely inaccurate and totally unlike Sheeva. She would have probably been unromantically upfront about her intent¡­or maybe not, as he recalled her gentle grasp of his hand the week before and the lean into his space.

    Still, he glanced at her across the way as she ogled some of the decorative pieces of furniture, some old projects of his, some old projects of Rin''s, and some entirely new, crafted after Tazaro''s untimely "death." Her straight black hair had grown quite a bit, and now billowed over her shoulders and moved like silk strands as she turned her head to look around the shop, red eyes alight with admiration and that passive smile on her face. Her behavior further disproved his thoughts as she paused to examine his ornate tinderbox, gently opening the cedarwood chest. She seemed far too calm.

    Yup. Completely unlike Sheeva. Tazaro confirmed and shook his head slowly at himself.

    ¡°You know, I would have thought you would have looked around enough with Pteryx.¡± He commented, surprised to find her so curiously alight with enthrallment.

    ¡°Birds don¡¯t see things the same way we do, but they can hear better, at least.¡± Sheeva pointed out, feeling the thrill of excitement stab through her spine at the sound of his voice, momentarily forgetting he was there. Of course, the sudden dawning that she definitely might have been the "cute girl" he''d wanted to deliver a message to with the small yellow bird didn''t help keep her calm.

    ¡°Oh. Great. What else did you learn?¡± He asked, wondering if she had overheard his terrible singing voice as he sang along to some of Rin¡¯s old records to force himself to stay awake to finish the project.

    She offered up a silent thanks to whatever god or goddess was embodied by the set of scales for tipping the conversation in her favor, figuring he or she was in charge of evening odds.

    ¡°You have a nice array of insults for machines that don¡¯t listen to you.¡± Sheeva smiled. ¡°I think my favorite is still ¡®lump of fuck.¡¯ It¡¯s fun to say.¡± She admitted. Tazaro smirked and covered his bashful look with a hand, cleared his throat, then motioned for her to follow him.

    He led her up into the loft, walking up to an object covered in a giant blanket. With a hook on a long stick, Tazaro pulled the blanket off, revealing the thing. It was massive and made of wood, seeking to take up as much of the height of the room as possible. A clear glass orb set in place at the aperture reflected the lantern''s light as Tazaro hung the lantern from a support beam. He pulled a chain and opened up the hatch in the roof, brushing off the leaves that slid into the building and onto the machine¡¯s frame.

    Sheeva stood by as she watched Tazaro fold the blanket he covered the machine with to drape it over the floor, grab the pillow from his bed, and sit down to adjust the aperture of the Stargazer, peering through via a small scope. She followed the giant crystal with her eyes as it moved up, down, and sideways.

    ¡°Ok.¡± Tazaro exhaled sharply, fighting the tremble of nerves and thrill. ¡°I¡¯ve got it pointing towards Celeste since Kursu is in its ¡®new¡¯ phase.¡± He stated, simultaneously grinning with excitement and appearing hesitant, unsure of what he would find. Tazaro took a deep nervous breath and leaned down to peer through the eyepiece.

    His mouth dropped after an astonished "by the gods!" It snared Sheeva''s curiosity, and she smiled with the contagious rush of excitement.

    "What? What is it?"

    Tazaro sat back to gather himself, then leaned over to look through it again. He looked up at Sheeva again, starstruck, and gawked for words.

    "It''s, it''s incredible." He managed before leaning over once more, fidgeting with the gears and moving it while peering through the eyepiece.

    ¡°It really works! You can even see the tiniest things! And, the detail, it''s just¨Cit''s fantastic! I can¡¯t believe it!¡± Tazaro stood sharply and let out a stifled, excited scream, then paced the room, a wide-spread grin on his face at his success. "Holy shit!" He barked, returning to the machine to peer through it again in astonishment.

    Sheeva covered her mouth with a hand to hide her smile. She did not want him to believe in the slightest that she was laughing at him, but the genuine reaction was contagious in its joy.

    She jumped when he rushed to her and took her hand, begging her to sit with him and look through it.

    ¡°Take a look! Ah, wait, let me¨Csorry, I, uh, gotta move it back.¡± He interrupted, hunching back over and realigning it. He tilted his head and leveled his eyes with the cursor propped on the edge of the aperture. It was tiny and gold, and she only noticed it after him dragging her to his side and plopping her down next to him.

    Sheeva leaned and held her eye to the eyepiece. Her eyes widened, and she jerked back her head to look at the view beyond the hatch, then peered back through the eyepiece. There was Celeste, stark-purple in its waxing-gibbous state amid the darkness of the sky. Tiny craters littered the surface, and they seemed to vary in size.

    ¡°I never imagined such a thing. It¡¯s like a wheel of cheese.¡± She muttered, stunned. As she realized how silly that had sounded, she glanced at him in nerves, hoping he missed it. It appeared so; Tazaro¡¯s attention was on the night sky, a broad, teary smile on his face.

    He was searching frantically for some of their planets, wondering if he would be able to get a close-up of something that was even further than Kursu. Finding a red sphere, he decided to try to look at it.

    ¡°Here. Let me try to focus in on Isthgar.¡± He asked, adjusting it some more. He peered through it, staying quiet for a few minutes, save for a muttered ¡°wow¡± every once in a while. He finally sat back, a pleased smile on his face.

    Sheeva leaned over and looked into the eyepiece. A red planet sat under scrutiny unawares, dotted with wisps of white that she thought might be clouds and spots of blue that she figured were oceans canvassing the planet. She wondered what kind of animals or plants were on it if it could sustain life.

    ¡°This is incredible.¡± She whispered, looking back at him, joy coursing through her veins. She blinked as she saw him holding his head in his hands.

    ¡°Are you feeling alright?¡± She called out, wondering if he was overwhelmed by success and excitement. He sniffled and wiped at his eyes, then chuckled.

    ¡°Yeah. I was, um, about to say: I wish Mom were here to see this. But, even if she were here, she-she wouldn¡¯t be able to see it anyway!¡± He laughed, not caring how foolish he felt. At the realization that he could laugh so freely, he laughed even harder. ¡°That¡¯s so ridiculous of me!¡±

    Sheeva gave a small laugh of her own.

    ¡°Still, I...I think she would be proud of you.¡± Sheeva whispered. She watched him calm and his face fall. It bothered her; she had meant the statement to be encouraging.

    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I¡¯m proud of you.¡± She admitted, averting her gaze back towards the sky beyond the hatch, sheepish with her admittance. Words were immeasurable to the amount of pride for the man beside her. How much she owed him for igniting a spark of life. How happy she was to have met him, too, and how lucky she was to witness such clarity of the heavens.

    The warmth engulfed her chest and rose into her face, and as her eyes settled on his lips as he grinned at the stars, Sheeva fought to keep her gasp of realization as silent as possible.

    Here they were, alone and unknown to the world, basking in a new, expansive universe to learn about, and her level of comfort seeped into every bone of her body. It was incredibly foreign, but she wasn¡¯t at all frightened. Instead, the allure of a kiss tugged and strummed at her heartstrings, realizing after last week¡¯s instance that she would much prefer to share such an experience with Tazaro.

    In an attempt to anticipate what to expect, Sheeva pressed her fingers to her lips in gentle exploration, examining how they felt. They were small, thin, and dry, but as she dragged the tip of her finger along her bottom lip, it tickled, further driving her curiosity as she mused about how they would feel on his.

    ¡°Tazaro?¡± She asked, trying to break his attention away from wherever it was. He dropped his gaze from the skies and looked, then blinked in surprise with how close her face was to his.

    Thin lips melded awkwardly against soft ones, and the surprised, muffled ¡°mmph!¡± Tazaro gave tickled and vibrated Sheeva¡¯s lips, causing her to give a small, muffled chuckle in return. Sheeva held contact for a second to take in the feeling, unsure what to do or how to do it.

    Physically, his cheeks were warm, and as his lips puckered gently against hers, there was a tenderness that made her heart pitter-patter in her chest. Wondering if this was supposed to guide her somehow, she reciprocated the small action, thrilled to find how good it felt. How...natural.

    It was difficult to place how she felt emotionally amid vast giddiness that was in turn overshadowed by curiosity¡­curiosity that had been so undeniably strong, she hadn¡¯t asked Tazaro to invade his space in such a manner. The crushing guilt struck her to her core and eliminated the cheer, and she pulled back with a gasp at her disreputable self. When his confused citrine globes stared back at hers, Sheeva recoiled even more. When she registered how tightly his shirt was bound in her grasp, she felt worse, fearing she forced him into such a thing. Her eyes widened, and she let him go, almost shoving him away with disgust at herself.

    ¡°I, I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m sorry¨CI shouldn¡¯t have¨CI, I apologize.¡± She babbled, trying to ignore the insulting thoughts she was beginning to have.

    ¡°It¡¯s-it¡¯s late. We should go,¡± She huffed, cleared her throat, stood sharply, and began to pace in search for the blanket. Tazaro stared at her with an enamored, shy smile, trying to gather his thoughts. What a crazy last couple of minutes it had been. There never seemed to be a dull moment where Sheeva was involved.

    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

    ¡°Apologize? For what?¡± He asked, slowly getting to his feet.

    ¡°That was rude of me,¡± She whispered harshly, trying to discreetly dab at her eyes with the collar of her shirt. His confusion only grew, and he leaned against the support beam in the middle of the attic.

    ¡°I, I¡¯m ok; it just, uh, took me by surprise.¡± He admitted, feeling the burn of his face as it turned deep-red. ¡°Do you-d¡¯you regret it?¡± He asked, stomach sinking with the thought.

    She blushed and managed to squeak out an embarrassed ¡°no.¡±

    ¡°But I should have asked.¡±

    Tazaro held his tongue for a moment, fighting hard the hum of dismissal.

    I¡¯m just glad it happened at all.

    ¡°If you¡¯re mad at yourself, um, don¡¯t be.¡± He assured her.

    "I am a hypocrite.¡± She babbled.

    ¡°You¡¯re calling yourself a hypocrite? Because of a kiss?¡± He countered.

    Tazaro heard her say something, but couldn¡¯t discern what it was, momentarily deafened by the pounding of blood in his ears.

    "Sheeva¡­" He began, wondering if this tied into her adamant nature toward respecting boundaries. "It''s ok. Really. We all..." He paused, insisting on being delicate; bluntness might not help for this situation. "Start somewhere. You just took me by surprise. But, I¡¯m ok. Really, I¡¯m great!" He chuckled, aware of how his face burned with cheer.

    It didn¡¯t seem to console, and she picked furiously at her cast in nerves.

    ¡°We, uh¨C¡± He cleared his throat and rubbed at his chin. ¡°We¡­probably should go, though, just in case someone shows up,¡± Tazaro decided, busying himself by shutting the hatch to the roof. As he lifted the blanket from the floor and shook it, he felt his face tense from disappointment; this was not at all how he wanted the evening to go. He sighed and continued to drape the blanket over the machine, pausing to stare at it as he wrestled his emotions.

    Maybe small talk could alleviate both their bizarre states.

    ¡°I wish I could take this with me¨COf course, I¡¯d have to be able to get it out the door first, so...¡± He rolled his eyes at himself. ¡°Never mind that.¡± He admitted sadly. He tutted at himself, out-of-sorts from the whirlwind of events.

    Sheeva clicked her tongue and put down the blanket she finished wrapping around herself, irritated that she would have to struggle with it again before they finally left. She took a calming breath, stepped forth, formed some seals, and hovered her hand over the Stargazer. Blue light glowed, and he watched it shrink, becoming something small enough that he could put it in a gift box and wrap it if he wanted to. She dropped her hand and took a knee, drained. She had never used the particular spell on something that large.

    ¡°Until you have better control with this spell, I will shrink and expand it for you when you want to use it.¡± She offered, standing back up after breathing through her dizziness. He gently picked up the machine and held it. Such a giant machine, shrunken to fit in the palm of his hand. He could hardly believe it.

    ¡°Rin¡¯s going to lose his mind when he sees my machine is gone.¡± He chuckled, staring at the now empty loft.

    Sheeva didn¡¯t respond and instead wrapped the blanket around herself again and stepped out of the workshop. Looking up at the sky, she took a deep breath. Thankfully, only the moon had bared witness to her ridiculousness.

    They walked about a block away from the workshop before Sheeva spoke to bust the unbearable silence.

    ¡°What did you want to call that thing again?¡± She asked. Tazaro was still muddling over his thoughts, now with a bemused smirk on his face.

    ¡°The machine? A, uh, Stargazer.¡± He mumbled. He snorted, as now saying it aloud sounded even more ridiculous than it had when he drafted the idea.

    ¡°It''s a stupid name, huh?¡± He asked, expecting her to nod. He felt the hairs on his arms stand up in a conditioned response as he imagined her telling him how idiotic it was. Instead of criticizing him, she shook her head.

    ¡°No. Why would it be?¡± She asked.

    He slowed to a halt, stunned. The revelation sent a chill through his body.

    ¡°You really think so?¡± Tazaro called out. His voice echoed on the emptiness of the street.

    ¡°I do. I think it¨CSheeva stopped when she realized she was talking to air, and looked back over her shoulder. She sighed at herself for not noticing she was leaving him behind and headed back to where he stood, then cleared her throat.

    ¡°I think it is practical. That is what the machine does, right? Allows you to view the stars?¡± She questioned. ¡°And in incredible detail, I might add!¡±

    ¡°Um, well...yeah?¡± He admitted.

    ¡°Then call it what you want. Besides, it is your machine. You have the right to call it whatever you want.¡±

    Tazaro inhaled sharply, brought to life by the freedom. He smiled warmly at her, and as he felt his body relax and his fears dissipate, he grinned.

    ¡°Wow. Thank you. I-I don¡¯t know what to...I needed to hear that.¡± He babbled sheepishly.

    Sheeva stared at him for a minute. She took in the way he smiled at her as she imagined him feeling great relief, and squinted her eyes at him.

    ¡°Did someone ridicule you for the names you give your machines?¡± She demanded to know. As Tazaro¡¯s face fell and his orange eyes dropped toward the corner in shame, it confirmed her thoughts. She scowled in distaste.

    ¡°Hmph. Sorry to piss on your bonfire, but you should not hang yourself for something like that.¡± She grunted before turning and walking away. He blinked, wondering if she was saying an idiom wrong like she tended to do sometimes, but the idiom itself was unfamiliar.

    ¡°What does that mean?¡± He asked, running to catch up to her. She glanced at him as he appeared at her side.

    ¡°What does what mean?¡± She asked, slowing down as she thought about it for a quick second. ¡°Piss on your bonfire?¡¯ It means to upset or disappoint someone.¡±

    She stopped entirely, surprised, and crossed her arms as she gave him a look.

    ¡°I thought you would know that one, considering your colorful language.¡±

    Tazaro shook his head, snorting. Of course, he knew the phrase: piss on someone¡¯s bonfire; he¡¯d grown up hearing it from Tyler.

    ¡°No. The other one.¡± He corrected her.

    ¡°Hang yourself for it? ¡®Cage yourself for it¡¯? Have you never heard of this phrase?¡±

    He shook his head, and followed her as she began to walk on. They walked in step for a moment as she thought of a way to explain it.

    ¡°Define yourself based on what others think, or act according to what they expect. The only person to decide what is right or wrong for you should be you. Not others. That includes ridicule for something that you¡¯re passionate abo¨Cno, especially things that you¡¯re passionate about.¡±

    He gave her a sideways glance, finding it ironic that she would not take her own advice and apply it to certain things about herself. He pushed the thought from his mind. She had heavier demons than he did by far, and he had no right to judge.

    ¡°Haven¡¯t you ever been ridiculed, though? It¡¯s destructive. It stays with you.¡±

    She stopped, gave an indignant ¡°huh!¡±, and set her hands on her hips. She beckoned for Tazaro to sit on a bench. Amazed again with her adamance, he did.

    ¡°Ta¡¯hal portion aside, I am still a Cruinian. I may as well be the person to bring about the end of times. They ridicule me for my eyes and judge me simply for the circumstance of my birth. But people do not take the time to know that I like plants and reading, and learning about nature, among many other things. And, I guess I do play the part of ¡®good samaritan¡¯ from time to time,¡± She reluctantly admitted.

    Though, as I say this, I realize Vincent¡¯s right; I have never taken the time to know anyone else well enough, either, she added silently.

    ¡°Heh, right. Behold! Sheeva Jules: the Deathbringer! All you need is horns and a tail. Maybe an army of the undead,¡± He poked, leaning back and giving her a cheeky grin.

    She sent him an unamused look, though he still noted the smirk on her face even as she sighed in her displeasure.

    ¡°Be serious, Tazaro!¡± She scolded, then softened. ¡°Do you think I would be here if I listened to all the people that ridiculed me or spurned me?¡±

    That I would¡­have accomplished even this much? She added silently.

    Tazaro contemplated the question honestly, and slowly shook his head.

    Convinced that she had him listening intently, Sheeva took a deep breath in through her nose, and let it slowly pass her lips with a pshew.

    ¡°Listen to me. Others do not define your worth¨Conly you can do that. And, only you should.¡± She said as calmly as she could, hoping it would sink in.

    He stared at the miniature Stargazer in his hand, feeling humbled as he mulled the words over and over in his head. He picked it up off his palm by its aperture and set it gently beside him on the bench, clasped his hands together, and leaned forward to prop himself up over his knees. He sighed heavily and hid his face as his eyes heated and welled with tears, embarrassed.

    ¡°Are you cry¨C

    ¨CNO. Just-just sweating from my eyeballs, ok?¡± He forced through clenched teeth with a mild chuckle. He dabbed at his eyes with the back of his hand.

    Sheeva looked up the street, then down the other way. There were no people. She shed the blanket she covered her wing with and draped it over his shoulders. Tazaro looked up in surprise and watched her hurry to an alleyway a couple of houses down to hide her wing.

    He saw the flash of a ball of light and the spin of colors and caught himself smiling. The sentiment of space and time alone was nice, but unneeded. Still, he wrapped the blanket around himself, feeling the warmth of it on his back. He leaned against the wall and stared across the way as he tapped his fingers in contemplation on his knee.

    Tazaro let out a ¡°heh¡± as he realized how much he really ¡°hung himself up¡± over things that now seemed silly¨Cat least in comparison to Sheeva¡¯s issues and even the future goals they had. Tazaro felt guilty as it dawned on him how unfair he acted toward previous women he had taken out on the rare date. Some dates had been agreed to after relentless pestering from the girl, despite his automatic disinterest. If not disinterested thanks to persistent pestering, they would ramble about things he could care less for. So, even if he were not quick to dismiss, he likely would have refused an offer for a second outing. And, if either of those two roadblocks failed, he simply turned them down thanks to expecting similar treatment from them that he had gotten from Kirin.

    He shuddered a little as the pet name Kirin had given him ran through his head. Five years had passed, and it still terrorized him. He scowled at himself.

    Only I can define my worth, hm? And, only I should?

    He struggled with the unsettling shame that seeped into every fiber of his being as he tumbled her words in his head and applied them to his current musings. Tazaro had allowed Kirin to chop him into a fraction of a man¨Cmore sickeningly so, molded and shaped into whatever was fitting to her. He became nothing more than a thing, whittled away into someone that gave her everything that she wanted and got next to nothing in return.

    And worse, he did all that for her? A selfish woman who cared little to nothing for others less fortunate, much less the man she was supposed to be living with and faithfully dating? The sudden epiphany simultaneously disgusted and amazed him.

    As her blue, sappy, puppy-eyed look flashed in his mind, he blurted out a nasty, curt¡°Vilg oui!¡±

    He looked over at the alleyway where Sheeva hid, wondering if she heard it. As the flashing of lights continued, it did not appear so.

    With Vincent¡¯s guidance five years ago, he managed to shape himself into an outwardly functional Tazaro. But, internally? Barely.

    All he wanted to do was hide.

    Hide in his secret, safe world of machines and woodworking. Create gadgets he would never share and build furniture that he could pour his heart and soul into on the off chance he wanted to be recognized. His crafts became something that he was proud of and that he could use to validate a sense of worth.

    A sense of worth? He chuckled at himself and toward his folly for feeling the ¡°ridiculous names¡± he came up with was something he should be ashamed of. Sheeva was right. They were practical. There were much sillier things he could have come up with.

    He hummed in joy at himself as his spirit lifted. Hell yeah, he had worth and value! And, just because some shallow, conniving, twisted, cheating woman drilled it into his head that everything he knew and did was somehow wrong, it did not mean that she was right.

    He looked back at the miniature Stargazer and smiled at it and himself, taking even more pride in it. He made the blueprints, carried them out, and had been able to look at one of their moons and one of their planets. Not to mention, the simple fact that the Stargazer worked was one hell of an accomplishment! It was an accomplishment he might have missed if Sheeva had not insisted they check it out, even though the machine had contributed to what might have been the second most awkward kiss of his life, and made Celeste ¡°look like a wheel of cheese.¡±

    Tazaro laughed wholly as he thought that maybe Sheeva was just as weird as he was to compare a moon to something edible. It fell into a chuckle as he felt the bashfulness spread on his face. Her estranged state after she kissed him seemed like an air of disappointment, and he winced. With the stern admittance that she was not ok, he felt even worse on her behalf. He wondered if he would have the opportunity to show her how fun and exciting kisses could be.

    Probably not, He told himself. Perhaps, tonight had completely estranged them all-together into strictly ¡°partners in search of a mass-murderer.¡±

    He glanced down the street toward the alleyway Sheeva hid in, peeled himself off of the bench, tucked the blanket under his arm, and picked up the Stargazer.

    Sheeva looked up at Tazaro as he stood in the entryway and dismissed her ball of light with a wave of her hand.

    ¡°Heard you laughing. Better?¡± She asked. Tazaro gave a self-conscious smile and nodded.

    ¡°Ah, yeah. Much better. Thank you.¡± He answered. Sheeva stood and reached for the blanket. He unraveled it and draped it around her shoulders in return.

    ¡°What...were you laughing about?¡±

    ¡°You called Celeste a ¡®wheel of cheese.¡¯ I think you might be just as strange as I am.¡± He answered.

    Her eyes widened, and she hurried past him into the street. She walked in front of him, bringing a hand to her forehead in humiliation.

    ¡°I did not think you heard that. I hoped you had not.¡±

    ¡°Heh, you bet I did.¡± He teased warmly, happy he could still find her flustered state amusing.

    ¡°But if it makes you feel better, that moon does look like a wheel of cheese,¡± Tazaro added to alleviate the air of wrecked, scrambled nerves and hurried to catch up to her once more.

    ¡°Maybe, a nice gouda.¡± He joked with a playful smile and a glint in his eye.

    Sheeva snorted and shook her head.

    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous!¡± She blurted as they continued down the street. Tazaro¡¯s face fell slightly, mildly confused, mostly dismayed. The self-consciousness hit him like a sledgehammer.

    Maybe the kiss really had estranged them.

    ¡°It is definitely a type of swiss. Probably good with a rogue tomato, vinegar, and a slice of bread.¡± She chuckled instead of berating him, covering her mouth with her hand to hide her smile.

    He paused for a moment, an impressed look on his face. Not only had Sheeva pulled a fast one on him, but she had also made quite the quick, witty quip. He subtly reminded himself to stop worrying so much.

    As she looked around and saw the last of the shops, Sheeva was sure they missed the turn they were supposed to take a while ago between the baker¡¯s shop and the produce stand. She stopped and looked around, wondering if she should point it out. If she were honest with herself, she was unwilling to; cooped up for far too long.

    ¡°Huh. Alright. So...speaking of being silly, have you ever given an object a name?¡± He asked.

    Sheeva crossed her arms and took a deep breath, deciding not to say anything at all about their location. She sat down on the porch of someone¡¯s house. He sat down next to her and waited. A different ketze than the one they passed a few minutes ago strolled up to them and sniffed at them. Sheeva reached out to pet it.

    ¡°When Rose gave me my sword, she insisted I give it a name. I call ¡®him¡¯ Abraxas.¡±

    Tazaro raised his eyebrows in interest at the name of choice.

    ¡°Abraxas? As in the God of Magic and Trickery? In which context did you mean that?¡±

    Sheeva looked up from the ketze that had now crawled its way into her lap and curled up, now purring loudly as she scratched it behind its ear.

    ¡°Is that what the name came from? Hm, I suppose I should not be surprised that you know that.¡± She admitted. Tazaro feigned hurt feelings.

    ¡°Of course I would know that. There¡¯s a constellation for that. The, uh, broken spear. Because why wouldn¡¯t Abraxas give someone something that ¡®leaves one headless in battle¡¯ and have the spearhead fall off when you try to use it?¡± He laughed.

    Sheeva clicked her tongue at the irony. It was an excellent ironic weapon on the god¡¯s part and not one she had heard of before.

    ¡°Dozens of weapons to choose from, and that is what they went with?¡± She asked, picking the ketze up and staring at it. It turned into a long, lanky, black void as its body hung from her hands, though a diamond-shaped patch of white stretched along its belly and helped it stand out. It growled at her, annoyed, ears flattened back against its head.

    ¡°What others do you know of?¡± He asked. She set the ketze back in her lap and began to pet it again as she thought.

    ¡°There is supposedly a staff, Wittgeir, that will do either the opposite of what you want it to or carry out commands literally. Or, the Lingua Blade, that instead of cleaving an opponent in two, it licks the opponent.¡± He watched her face scrunch in distaste and pick at her ear. Her previously cheerful demeanor fell as she stared into space, ceasing in petting the cat. It writhed in her lap to demand more pets, but she didn¡¯t respond.

    ¡°Hey, Sheeva,¡± Tazaro began, wanting to ask her where she¡¯d gone, but changed his mind. ¡°I think there¡¯s a bow that, instead of shooting the arrow, it shoots you. Flings you hundreds of feet through the air. Hah, like a clay discus.¡¯¡± Tazaro offered. There wasn¡¯t any such weapon, but the suggestion worked as intended as she broke into a smile and laughed.

    Sheeva chuckled softly at the image of a weapon launching a person through the air.

    ¡°Hm,¡± he pondered, then smirked. ¡°Plate Armor that does nothing for defense, but instead, acts as a floatation device? Oh, or better yet¨CA flail that gets motion sickness!¡± He added with a wide grin. She giggled, then sat back.

    ¡°You know, I am sure there is a long list of bizarre concoctions and deceitful weapons that have been lost to history because their unwitting users have not survived.¡±

    Tazaro¡¯s face fell as he saw the unsettling truth in the statement.

    ¡°Oh? Oh. That¡¯s a disturbing thought.¡±

    He watched her mouth form a pout attractively as the ketze leaped off of her lap and sauntered away with its tail in the air, pleased with the attention it received. She childishly blew it a raspberry, then cleared her throat to continue her interrupted explanation.

    ¡°God of magic and trickery aside, Abraxas has no magical properties. At first, I tried to be funny, but then I realized I could psyche people out with the misleading title. Gives a nice edge in battle.¡± She explained.

    ¡°Psyche people out, huh?¡± He asked, an amused smile on his face. As though warning him against skepticism, she shook her head and wagged a finger at him.

    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised at how much it works. I was, uh, pursuing a bounty in Raynak a couple of years ago for some spending money. Cornered the guy and his crew, drew Abraxas, discreetly slathered some lantern oil on it, and used my fire-breathing spell to ignite it. Half of them ran, and I¡¯m sure the other half wet themselves.¡± She gave an out-of-character laugh. Tazaro laughed too, grinning madly at the image.

    ¡°Bounty folded like a sheet of paper. Got a nice hefty sum of cash for his head, too.¡±

    Tazaro slowly stopped laughing and looked at her, unnerved as he imagined her killing someone for cash.

    ¡°His head? But, you-you took him alive though, right?¡± He asked. Sheeva silenced.

    ¡°Him?¡± She thought for a moment. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°You, um, don¡¯t sometimes?¡± He asked. Sheeva hesitated.

    ¡°I do not kill unnecessarily. I try to keep my targets alive, but some contracts end in ¡®suicide-by-bounty-hunter.¡¯ Suppose death is better than rotting in jail for some people.¡± She answered honestly.

    When Tazaro crossed his arms and stared at the cobblestone in thought with a mildly frightened look on his face, Sheeva sighed to herself and turned away. Damn her and her mouth sometimes.

    ¡°We should head back.¡± She suggested. She stood and brushed off the remnants of fur left on her clothing.

    ¡°Oh. Yeah, sure. Ok.¡± He mumbled unenthusiastically.

    Tazaro took his time leading the way back to the apartment, tripping over his shuffled, tired feet as he wrestled with his guilt. He had gone and made things weird with the question. As they neared the steps, he heaved a sigh, annoyed with himself.

    ¡°Hey, wait a minute.¡± He called to her. She stopped halfway up the steps. He watched her fight with an annoyed expression and eventually settle into a pout, avoiding eye contact. If not due to his idiocy, it would be cute.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to be rude, or-or judge you or anything. I¡¯m just new to the idea of ¡®suicide-by-bounty-hunter.¡¯ Bit of a¡­culture shock moment, I guess.¡± He announced, hoping to clear the air. She blinked, confused, and shook her head at herself.

    ¡°You, you needn¡¯t worry, I wasn¡¯t¡­truly, you are not disgusted?¡± She asked, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. Tazaro nodded for reassurance.

    ¡°Huh, funny, I¡­thought I was being too blunt. Sometimes I take it too far.¡± She replied, a small smile on her face as she recalled the awkward kiss she gave him. She snorted at herself and turned.

    Sheeva finished climbing the steps and leaned against the rail as she waited for him to follow, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. As a gentle breeze swept across the hallway, it carried away the warmth of embarrassment and brought with it a spot of courage. Maybe, if she asked this time, things might go better.

    ¡°Tazaro,¡± She began, stopping to clear her throat and choose her following words carefully, thinking that bluntness was not the best way to go about certain things. ¡°I have much to learn, but perhaps, you could show me, instead?¡± A blush formed on her cheeks as she picked at the bindings of the cast in wait, her other hand raised to her mouth as she tenderly touched her lips. Her voice fell into a whisper, and she doubted he heard it.

    Shit. Kiss me, instead, I meant to say.

    She pursed her lips, annoyed with her meekness.

    Damn it, Sheeva, what the hell was that?

    ¡°Wait, Tazaro, I meant that you could kiss¨CShe tried, attempting to stop him at the top of the steps.

    ¨CYou really think I can teach you stuff? Honestly, I think I can learn a lot from you, instead,¡± Tazaro answered, gently pushing past her to the door as he fished his keys from his pocket. He jammed his keys in the lock, opened the door, and stepped inside, then turned to face her as he held the door open.

    When he saw the perplexed look on Sheeva¡¯s face as she pressed her fingertips to her lips, lost in her own thoughts, it dawned on him. However, before he could save face, she moved. She shuffled past him and grabbed the device off his palm, heading for the balcony. Tazaro stepped closer indoors, then leaned against the wall, sighed, and dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

    ¡°Gods be damned, you blew it.¡±

    ¡°Have a nice outing?¡± Vincent asked, still awake, still sitting in his chair. Tazaro jumped as he felt his skin crawl and jerked his head in the direction, distracted and unaware of his real-time surroundings.

    ¡°Fuck, shouldn¡¯t you be asleep by now?¡± Tazaro barked, further frustrated. ¡°It¡¯s the middle of the night!¡±

    Vincent chuckled and shrugged.

    ¡°This is the middle of my day. You should be asleep.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well¨CHe stopped and looked over as the balcony door slid open, then redirected his gaze to the floor as she walked back in and past him without a word. Whatever retort Tazaro had come up with was long gone, replaced by derisive thoughts.

    Sheeva paused in the hallway and turned to look at him, opening her mouth to say something, anything, that might restore peace. Tazaro sternly avoided her gaze. Maybe if she pretended nothing happened, they would eventually get over it. She sighed and forced the spot of hope away; they seemed to hold a habit of talking about and coming to terms with things. She would have to wait.

    ¡°I am going to bed. Hopefully, these last two weeks will pass quickly. Be sure to do your nightly wing-stretches.¡± She stated.

    ¡°Mm,¡± Tazaro hummed, unenthusiastically. She took a deep breath and buried her emotions, continuing to Tazaro¡¯s room and crawling into the bed, fully embarrassed with herself.

    In his chair, Vincent examined the two¡¯s interaction at the entrance to the hallway, and as Tazaro crossed his arms and let out a tense breath that carried his shoulders with it, Vincent marked the page he was on and set his book down.

    ¡°Well, something happened,¡± He pointed out.

    Tazaro glanced at him briefly before looking away, then chewed on his lip for a moment, finding humor in the inconveniences and misunderstandings of the evening. Now that the airs began to settle, he chuckled at some of it with a half-cocked grin. He shook his head at himself and sighed again, then sat down on the couch with an exaggerated wave of his hands.

    ¡°Did you know your roommate¡¯s an idiot?¡± Tazaro joked to aid in the dissipation of his worries.

    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t go that far, but you certainly have your moments. What did you do this time?¡± Vincent snickered, amused with his reply.

    ¡°Sheeva...kissed me,¡± Tazaro murmured, a smirk growing on his face. "And she thinks she went too far. And I completely missed the opportunity to¨Cpfft, ¡®show her otherwise,¡¯ as she suggested. But, there¡¯ll be another opportunity. Maybe." He added, trying to level with himself and his budding hopes.

    ¡°Oh?¡± Vincent¡¯s eyebrow rose in curiosity. ¡°It¡¯s about time. How¡¯d it go?¡±

    ¡°Awkward?¡± That had to be the right word for it, though a massive understatement. ¡°Yeah.¡± He decided.

    ¡°Are you that bad of a kisser?¡± Vincent teased. Tazaro snorted and gave Vincent a rude gesture.

    ¡°Vilg oui, man.¡± He laughed, shaking his head. ¡°It was just...surprising. But, uh, other than that, I had a good time. I needed it. Plus, the Stargazer works!¡± He announced, hoping to steer Vincent off-topic.

    ¡°Well, holy shit! Congratulations! Can you show me?¡± Vincent asked. Not giving Tazaro the chance to dismiss him, Vincent stood, headed for the balcony, and slid it open. Here the thing was, standing about as tall as himself, on a set of wheels and complex dials and levers and tiny gears that only Tazaro, despite all his energies and rapid-tracks of thought, could possibly put together and manipulate. He expected it to be larger, considering Tazaro talked about how he needed all the space in the loft.

    ¡°I guess she didn¡¯t have enough space to expand it,¡± Tazaro stated, sliding the door shut behind him. He stooped and rolled it around, checking through the eyepiece to see what they would be looking at.

    ¡°Is that what that blue light was?¡± Vincent asked. Tazaro nodded shortly, sitting back as he paused to take the situation in. It still felt incredibly surreal, as though this were all a vivid dream and he¡¯d simply fallen asleep on his desk.

    ¡°She shrunk this thing down from the workshop, and I carried it in my hands. It¡¯s, it¡¯s pretty unreal¨Cbut incredible! I mean, something like that has to be super useful.¡± He craned his head and squinted to look through the cursor. Finding what he was hoping to see, he muttered a ¡°wow¡± of awe.

    ¡°What?¡± Vincent asked, eager to know.

    Tazaro looked up, then stood to get out of the way.

    ¡°Take a look.¡± He offered.

    Vincent knelt, brushed his bangs out of his eyes, and peered. Through the glass, he could see a green sphere that took up almost all of the scope. His mouth popped open, and he followed the cursor.

    ¡°Is that Edriss?¡±

    Tazaro nodded proudly, highly pleased with himself.

    ¡°Damn. I¡¯m impressed.¡±

    Vincent sat and leaned against the rail of the balcony, overwhelmed. A grin cracked on his face, and he looked up at the vast expanse of things Tazaro would be able to unlock, possibly classify, and eventually categorize, maybe to share with the world.

    ¡°You¡¯re gonna do great things, Tazaro. Absolutely.¡±

 Chapter 22: ...Is to Give Life Meaning

    On what seemed to be the hottest evening of the summer, Sheeva fanned herself with the ¡°worst waste of paper she had ever seen¡± as she chugged glass after glass of water. She had her shirt unbuttoned as far as she would allow, wanting to be considerate of the men in the room. Still, it was as close to being naked as she could be while being decent.

    All the windows and the balcony doors were open, and Sheeva was waving her hand in circles, trying to create an airflow. She could freeze the air but feared accidentally freezing them all instantly, her focus going haywire, on edge from being in the same room as Tazaro.

    ¡°This heat is ridiculous. What a day to try to hold a festival.¡± Vincent groaned, sprawled on his comfortable green chair. Both the men had no shirts on and only wore shorts, but they still looked like they could melt into the floor.

    ¡°Festival? For what? If you city-dwellers hold festivals for this kind of heat, you are all crazier than I anticipated.¡± Sheeva grumbled.

    Tazaro snorted and peeled himself off of the couch, leaning forward to rest his sweaty head in his palms. He grabbed his glass of water and chugged, parched.

    ¡°Gods, no, we¡¯re not that nuts. You¡¯re confusing us with Pyuritans. Those gluttonous lushes would celebrate anything. Probably even celebrate a sneeze.¡± Tazaro defended. Sheeva gave a little chuckle.

    "That is too true. I couldn''t get much more out of them when asking about Llyud at one of their fall festivals. They were too drunk and kept begging me to ''chugalug up an¡¯ fuggedaboutit!" She grunted, never wanting to deal with such mockery again.

    Vincent held back a snicker, such behavior typical of the farmers with nary a care for much else than week-long festivals, wine, and sex. He sighed in relief as a gust of wind swept over him. Sheeva took turns giving them each air, having to stop to rest every couple of minutes. During that time, Tazaro would take over, though he was not very good at it. Yet, Sheeva assured him.

    ¡°Anyway, it¡¯s the Festival of Lovers. People gather in the streets and try to woo one another. It¡¯s pretty entertaining to watch people be turned down. The four of us¡­" Vincent gave a pause, glancing between the two romantically frustrated people in the room. "Usually just take bets, but if we don¡¯t go for at least that, then we would just go for the fireworks show.¡± He explained.

    ¡°You bet on people? Aren¡¯t doctors supposed to be nice?¡± Sheeva asked.

    Vincent snickered at the comment.

    ¡°We don¡¯t bet on our friends, does that count?¡±

    Sheeva shook her head and rolled her eyes.

    ¡°By the way, I¡¯m taking Maya to the festival, and Micah will be joining us later. Assuming that¡¯s fine with you?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re doing what?¡± Tazaro snapped his head to Vincent, a worried look on his face.

    ¡°You-you¡¯re not bringing her back here, are you?¡±

    ¡°No, no. We¡¯re just going as friends. And, even if something did happen, I¡¯ve got a backup plan. But I don¡¯t think anything will happen. She only had eyes for yo-aah, someone else.¡± He changed his statement as Tazaro sent him a glare that rivaled Sheeva¡¯s. She seemed to be rubbing off on him.

    Tazaro glanced at Sheeva out of the corner of his eye, worried. He wondered if she picked up on Vincent¡¯s slip, and admittedly, he was curious to know if she had a jealous streak. He doubted so, but he could not help the speck of hope that grew when he saw the blush on her cheeks and the frustration in her eyes.

    ¡°What are fireworks?¡± Sheeva asked, waving her hand around herself to give herself a cool wisp of air. Her spell died down as she felt their eyes on her, and she looked at them.

    ¡°You¡¯ve never seen fireworks?¡± Tazaro asked, simultaneously amazed and relieved that her frustration was due to that and not Maya. Sheeva scoffed at him and crossed her arms defensively.

    ¡°I would not stay in a place for nearly as long as I have been here.¡± She answered.

    Vincent¡¯s lips curled, and he fought to keep a straight face.

    ¡°Well if that''s the case, Tazaro can take you to see them.¡± Vincent decided. Tazaro looked back over at Vincent with a wide-eyed, skeptical look, but it faded into a sly smile as realization clicked when he understood the set-up attempt.

    ¡°Sure, I can do that.¡± He agreed with a smile.

    ¡°I told Maya we¡¯d pick out a good spot to laugh at the suckers. We¡¯re heading to the Eastern Quarter Plaza¨Cgetting to enjoy watching snobs be turned down by posh blowhards is always a blast." He announced with a derisive giggle that caused Tazaro to chuckle in return.

    He felt a small spot of shame that he would be missing out on the hilarities, but it was hard to pass up the opportunity to, maybe, spend a little more quality time with Sheeva.

    "You two should stick to the south end,¡± Vincent stated, standing up and stretching. He reached into his pocket and flicked a ten-Inue at both of them. They caught them surprisingly well, given that Tazaro was still stunned and Sheeva was right-handed.

    Heh. Thanks, Vincent. You¡¯re a hell of a wingman. Tazaro thought as he turned the coin over in his fingers and appreciated the generosity.

    Tazaro looked at Sheeva. Her wing stuck out like a sore thumb, and with how hot it was, she probably would not want to cover it with anything.

    ¡°Not to be a buzzkill, but what are we going to do about that wing?¡± Tazaro asked.

    ¡°I should be able to hide it for a while. Let me see.¡± Sheeva formed a few signs and closed her eyes in focus. He watched, amazed, as the thing dissipated slowly. When she opened her eyes again, he saw they were purple instead of their usual red.

    "Whoa. How did you do that?" He asked. She formed the seals again slowly and focused. As she shook her head, her hair changed from its deep black to a dark brunette.

    "A spell I created about half a year ago. It¡¯s still in the making. You should change, too. You are supposed to be dead. Follow. You should feel the energy collected around what you mean to change. The irises of your eyes. The roots of your hair. Perhaps¡­you should try blue, for your eyes." She explained. He followed her instruction and felt a great burn in his eyes as he visualized them being a gentle sapphire. He squeezed his eyes shut even further at the discomfort.

    Worried that he might have blinded himself, Tazaro was relieved to find that he could still see when he opened his eyes.

    "Oh. Did it work?" He asked. She nodded and reached for her small mirror to hold it up to him. Sure enough, his eyes were blue, with specks of orange that still lingered in places. To say he was fascinated was an understatement; this spell was something else he could experiment with until either he''d found out everything he could do to make it better and Sheeva hated him for it, or he couldn''t possibly learn anything new.

    Wondering if he could have his hair a lighter color, he formed the signs again and thought about having blonde hair. Sure enough, when he held out his ever-growing hair in front of his face to look, his chestnut hair was now a dirty blonde.

    ¡°That¡¯s really cool!¡± He grinned, then cast the spell again. Wondering if he could have any shade of color, Tazaro decided on green for the hell of it. He watched the blonde fade away and turn a deep, dark green.

    He watched her cross her arms and heard her sigh, an apologetic look on her face.

    "Something wrong?" He asked in hopes that she would answer.

    "It is my fault you need to change your appearance."

    He waited for a moment, thinking of what to say. He''d had more than enough time to ¡°mourn his death,¡± and realized that there was vastly more to the world than crafting gadgets and furniture. He eventually came to terms with his new reality, and even though he would miss his friends, he did not feel like he could be normal around them anymore, save for Micah, Vincent, and Tyler.

    Tazaro shook his head, determined to say something.

    "Why did you suggest blue eyes?" He asked, hoping to change the subject, which seemed to be a better idea for the moment. She paused and stared at him, a mild show of surprise bleeding through her stoic expression. That was not the first thing she expected him to say.

    "Tarrakkians generally have blue eyes. When casting this spell, I have found it is easiest to reflect something that fits your personality." She answered, drumming up an excuse other than "I thought it might look good," because in all honesty, giving such a compliment might go straight to her head.

    Tazaro wondered if the suggestion was a kind of hidden compliment, as Tarrakkians were the ringleaders in advancing technology and exploratory pioneers. He told himself it was, even if she meant it more in a matter-of-fact way, and was thankful that it wasn''t a backhanded compliment.

    Still, he wished she would be a little more forward about her compliments; the guesswork was maddening.

    ¡°Thank you. I¡¯m going to change.¡± He hurried off of the couch, trying to keep as steady a gait as possible, but couldn''t help feel the peppiness of high anticipations.

    Tazaro took his time in rummaging through his closet for things he had not worn in ages. He finally settled on a pair of black slacks that were breathable and a white, button-up silk shirt with long sleeves that he rolled up to frame his forearms, amazed to notice the shirt fit him more snugly in the arms and shoulders than it had; his efforts toward training beginning to take shape and pay off. He smiled at himself, pleased with the minor detail.

    Wanting to match his still-green hair, Tazaro settled with donning an emerald vest that he had only worn once to a silly, formal school occasion that he only went to because Vincent didn''t want to go alone.

    He stared at his hair, wondering what to do with it. It had grown out to frame his head and just barely touched along his shoulders. Wondering if it were possible, he attempted to pull back his hair into a ponytail. It wasn''t quite long enough for that yet as he managed a piddly pinch and looked like a pissed-off cluckatrice with angrily ruffled feathers.

    He immediately ran his fingers through his hair to straighten it out.

    As he glanced at his eyes while testing different parting lines for his hair, they surprised him, momentarily forgetting that they were not currently his normal citrine. Should he decide to change his physical characteristics, he wondered if it would ever become possible to forget his initial appearance. He shrugged it off. He would probably have to change his looks daily for such an unlikely thing to happen.

    Deciding to keep his hair green to be less likely recognized off the bat by someone even though it would no longer match the vest, he brushed his hair out, fixed it with a part to the left, and then fussed over it in nerves as it didn''t look as dashing as he thought. He snorted at himself; he was only obsessed about it now because he worried Sheeva would care. Tazaro sighed and dropped his hands, figuring she would be the least likely to care about such things, considering she suggested ways to change his looks based on his ¡°personality¡± and not what looked good. It was an emboldening thought, encouraging him to dismiss the tousled state of his hair and head to his door.

    He still stuck his head back in front of the mirror and pulled back a lock of hair that dangled in his face. It only fell back in place, and he scowled at it.

    Vincent still had not emerged from his room, apparently really taking his time in getting ready, but that didn''t surprise Tazaro one bit, considering Vincent liked to look good for everyone, and anything "less than his best was an insult." Tazaro took his spot by Sheeva, pleased to find the slight curl of her lips as she saw him, masked by a scoff as she turned her head to look out of the balcony window.

    ¡°What?¡± He pried, though if he was reading her correctly, he knew very well what.

    ¡°You look...nice. If-if that¡¯s ok to say so.¡± She admitted, still not meeting his gaze, though the sentiment had now crept into her eyes. Tazaro smiled; though it was small, it was still a step.

    ¡°Thank you. I appreciate it¨Cit''s welcome. How long will this last?¡± Tazaro asked, gesturing to his face to refer to the spell.

    ¡°Well, you¡¯ve been stuck with that mug since birth, so I can¡¯t believe you have to ask.¡± Vincent quipped as he walked back into the room. He snickered at the rude gesture that Tazaro made and sat down in his chair. Sheeva hid a smile with the back of her hand at Vincent¡¯s tease.

    ¡°I¡¯m still developing the spell, but hopefully, a couple hours. I did not start experimenting with this spell until after I was turned away in Anidelle for my eye color.¡± She answered.

    ¡°Mm. Does it work on clothes, too? Or just the body?¡±

    Sheeva glanced at him, then squinted her eyes in thought, the head-tilt-of-curiosity now something automatic, considering how many "out-of-the-box" questions he seemed to ask in a day. Casting the spell on her clothes had never been something she considered, being too comfortable in her own incredibly limited wardrobe. She huffed, formed the seals, and touched her shirt, turning it from navy blue to a gentle lavender hue. She smiled at it.

    ¡°Apparently so. If there is nothing else, I am going to change too, I suppose.¡±

    They watched her walk away, also with an unnatural pep in her step.

    ¡°She¡¯s cheerful today,¡± Vincent commented, wondering if something had transpired overnight while he was away at work.

    Tazaro gave a simple ¡°hm, yeah.¡± He managed decent sleep last night. Perhaps Sheeva had, too; the squeak of the wheels in the balcony door never roused him from sleep once in the night.

    Vincent grabbed his thin jacket and tucked it under his arm, checked the clock, and sat back down in his chair. He still had time to kill.

    ¡°Did you choose that combo?¡±

    ¡°I chose the hair color. Sheeva suggested the eyes.¡± Tazaro admitted, still staring at the hallway where she disappeared.

    ¡°You can choose any color for your hair, and you go with green?¡± Vincent teased. He watched Tazaro scowl.

    ¡°I was just messing around with it. Besides, as long as people don''t recognize me, whatever¡¯s fine.¡±

    Vincent laughed, raised his eyebrows in acceptance and understanding, and then sat back in his chair, hands up in surrender.

    ¡°Not that they would, I think. Your hair¡¯s gotten pretty long. Sure you don¡¯t want me to cut it? I¡¯ve gotten better at it thanks to Sheeva.¡± Vincent offered for the second time in the last month. Tazaro shook his head.

    In growing self-consciousness, Tazaro began to mess around with the spell, turning his hair in different colors and looking at himself in the small mirror Sheeva had left. He finally settled with jet-black and tinted his eyes an even lighter shade of blue. If he were supposed to be dead, he might as well play the part of a dhampir. Curious, he even added a pair of fangs.

    ¡°Hey. Got any blood bags on hand? I could use a drink.¡± Tazaro cracked with a wide grin to show off what he could do.

    ¡°Ugh. Now that¡¯s just creepy.¡± Vincent pointed out, unnerved. Tazaro sneered and cast the spell again, returning his teeth to their normal state.

    ¡°So. Have you thought about what you are going to do?¡± Vincent asked. Tazaro stared at the floor. He didn''t need to ask what Vincent meant but briefly considered playing dumb, in case he was wrong.

    ¡°Not...really. I wasn¡¯t even planning to go. Uh, thank you, by the way.¡±

    ¡°Welcome. It¡¯s better than staying cooped up in here, isn¡¯t it? Though, I suppose you guys could watch the fireworks from the balcony if you wanted to have some privacy.¡±

    Tazaro nodded in agreement, though he felt like Vincent had more to say. He took a deep breath. Apparently, Vincent was making him ask.

    ¡°You got something else you want to say?¡±

    ¡°You, uh, really like her.¡±

    It was Tazaro¡¯s turn to utter a shy pfft and shake his head.

    ¡°Yeah. I noticed.¡±

    ¡°Noticed? Oh, no. No, no, no!¡± Vincent argued, sitting forward and pointing a finger at Tazaro. ¡°Don''t you dare downplay this, Tazaro! It''s definitely more than ''noticed.'' You like learning just as much as I do, but since she¡¯s started showing you these cool spells and stuff, you¡¯ve been hyper-fixated on experimenting with everything. You push yourself more. You¡¯re much more¡­ weirdly comfortable in your own skin¨Cwhich I don¡¯t mind, but if you were to start walking around naked, I would have something to say about it. And, uh, ever since you two went on your midnight adventure, you seem different. Haven¡¯t seen you this happy since Kir- ah, well, a while. It¡¯s a different kind of cheerful, and it¡¯s beyond just being happy about your success with the Stargazer. Or even awkward kisses, for that matter.¡±

    Tazaro turned away to keep his face hidden, a screwy smile on his face. All this was true, but there was much more than Vincent knew.

    ¡°I¡¯m worth more than what Kirin led me to believe¨Cwhich, I know that. Of course, I know that, but¡­Sheeva kind of drove the point home. She¨Cheh,¡± He broke his thoughts to chuckle, amused. ¡°She doesn¡¯t talk much, but when she does, she can be oddly inspiring.¡±

    "She did, huh?" Vincent turned to look at the hallway where Sheeva had disappeared to. "Good."

    Vincent''s curiosity got the better of him, recalling her statement about not "building progress on a foundation of lies."

    ¡°She seems to do that¨Cpull really excellent advice out of nowhere for random things. What did she say?¡±

    ¡°In a nutshell? Other people don¡¯t define my worth; only I do.¡±

    Vincent sat back, contemplating the statement. It was powerful. Effective. Enough to get through Tazaro''s stubborn head.

    ¡°Well! I''m going to have to use that! It fucking worked!¡±

    ¡°Mm-hmm.¡± Tazaro agreed, finding a hot-air balloon in the distance suddenly interesting.

    ¡°Good luck.¡± Vincent cheered, trying to figure out what Tazaro was staring at to hide his bashful state.

    ¡°Good luck with what?¡± Sheeva¡¯s voice called out, startling them both into jerking their heads in the direction. Vincent¡¯s gut dropped as he wondered how long she stood there, hoping she had not overheard their conversation.

    Tazaro blinked and shuffled himself around to thoroughly look at her, mouth ajar as he gazed. Her usual black hair was now a light brown, held back in a simple, albeit messy braid with her favored red ribbon. It was probably as well as she could do with a cast limiting the mobility of one hand. And, of all things, she was wearing a yellow dress that stopped over her brown leather boots, with a white cloth jacket on her shoulders. Her eyes were a serene, tourmaline green. Her bound wing was nowhere in sight, and he noticed a small satchel tied to her left hip, no doubt carrying a couple of knives for quick retrieval. She began to fidget with the hem of the jacket in nerves.

    ¡°Wow. I, uh¡­you look great.¡± Tazaro blurbed, inwardly cursing himself. Gods be damned, Tazaro. Could you sound any dumber?

    ¡°Thank you. I, um, took an idea from Cassie¡¯s book.¡± She offered a small smile, fighting the blush that spread on her cheeks. She could feel the burn of it on her chest. ¡°Though I-I feel naked without Abraxas.¡± She admitted, a slightly worried glint in her eyes.

    Tazaro tried to cover his mouth with his hand as subtly as possible as he felt his cheeks heat.

    ¡°You know, you don¡¯t have to go so out of your way to¨C

    ¨CI wanted to. It¡¯s-it is a festival, right?¡± She interrupted, shooting him a stern glare to mask her shyness, though he thought he could see a light blush on her cheeks. Tazaro had to admit, he was impressed with how much she was trying to break out of her comfort zone.

    ¡°I could carry it for you.¡± He offered.

    She squinted her eyes in thought for a moment, then walked away. Tazaro let out a nervous breath, and Vincent began to laugh, managing to get a ¡°man, your face!¡± out between it.

    ¡°Oh, shut up!¡± Tazaro snapped, smirking at himself and beginning to laugh as well. "I wasn''t expecting¨C"

    He stopped when Sheeva returned, carrying Abraxas in her hands, and stood from his spot on the couch as she motioned for him to level with her. She looped the scabbard around his shoulders, stepping back to take a look. Sheeva found it becoming of him but forced the thought aside, needing to focus on the practicality of where her sword was placed for quick retrieval in case she needed it.

    She tightened the band around his chest with a jerk of the strap and reached up for the handle with her right hand, forgetting it was still in a cast. She could not get a good grip; the metal piece that supported her brace jutted out and interrupted her grasp.

    ¡°No. That will not work.¡± She muttered, reaching up with her left instead. As she tried to yank it out of its scabbard, she growled, frustrated that it was at such an awkward height above her head. She lacked the leverage she needed.

    ¡°Fine. We will try around your waist, then.¡±

    Tazaro sucked in a nervous breath as she pushed him around, and as he felt the strap tighten around his right hip, he looked down to see how it looked on him. She was close enough that he could smell the shampoo she favored. He fought to ignore Vincent¡¯s snickers and sent him a glare.

    ¡°Are you done?¡± Tazaro asked her, uncomfortable with Vincent''s look of amusement. She grasped the handle of the sword with her left hand and ripped it out, slashing at the air behind her and then driving the blade forward, bracing it with her casted hand. The strikes were still incredibly fluid, impressing both Tazaro and Vincent.

    Tazaro gave a surprised yelp as she turned and stepped towards him once more, spearing the air next to his head. He was sure that if he turned his head, he could press his face against the blade.

    Sheeva laughed at his frightened expression.

    ¡°Relax. I will not kill you. I just needed to test my mobility.¡± She assured, closing the distance and sliding her sword back into its place. Tazaro stumbled back a few steps and buckled onto the couch, hand to his throat as he willed away his nerves.

    ¡°Well, I enjoyed watching you scare him. Are you ready to go?¡± Vincent asked, slipping past them and heading for the door. They followed him out and waited while he locked it. The setting sun spread an ethereal glow across the city. Tazaro paid more attention to how it lit up Sheeva, giving her green eyes a clear sparkle and her hair a reflective sheen.

    He collected himself, hurried down the steps and towards the central plaza of the southern end of town, Sheeva and Vincent in tow. He was sure he could feel Vincent smirking at the back of his head the whole time.

    As they neared the plaza, Sheeva was not surprised to see a caravan from Pacem lined along the side of the streets. As they called out to passersby, she averted her gaze to the other side of the road. Tazaro noticed she moved to his left, and he looked over his shoulder to the right.

    ¡°Something wrong?¡± He asked. Sheeva shrugged.

    ¡°I just wonder if people from Pacem can see my true form. A lot of them are seers, psychics. They can move objects with their minds or even read thoughts. My friend Cassie is one of those that can read thoughts, but she never did it to me unless she had to.¡± She muttered.

    ¡°Is that why you¡¯re so blunt?¡± He wondered aloud. She smiled meekly.

    ¡°I suppose so. No use trying to tiptoe around the pond when your thoughts are being read anyway.¡± She gave a soft chuckle. At this moment, she was glad Tazaro could not read minds, nor that Cassie had been present over their embarrassing circumstances over the past couple of weeks. Cassie would love the opportunity to tease her to high skies, as Vincent seemed to enjoy doing to Tazaro.

    Vincent tapped them both on the shoulder, spooking Sheeva and mildly scaring Tazaro. Sheeva whirled around, snatched the fabric of Vincent¡¯s sleeve, locked his arm in such a way that he could not escape, and grasped the back of his head by his cloth-bound ponytail. When she recognized him, she growled and shook his arm in annoyance, released him, then checked over her shoulder to ensure her disguising spell was still in place.

    ¡°If you value your life, you will not do that again, is that clear?¡± She hissed. She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, something Tazaro would do when he was frustrated with an experiment gone wrong. A gaggle of spectators began to laugh as they tittered behind their hands, likely thinking that the attempt to woo Sheeva had miserably failed.

    Vincent stood in place for a moment, amazed, and as he felt the twinge of pain from where she twisted his arm, he realized that she could have broken his arm, much like hers had been. He reached for his ponytail and ruffled it, massaging the tender spot to distract himself from the ripple of instant goosebumps.

    ¡°You know, if you keep showing off like that, I might come to find you attractive and develop a crush on you, too,¡± Vincent muttered to brush it off, rubbing his wrist. Tazaro noticed a brief hesitance in Sheeva¡¯s demeanor as what Vincent said sunk in and caught himself in a smile.

    ¡°Pfft. Your affections would be poorly placed.¡±

    ¡°Whose would you accept, then?¡± Vincent pried, wondering if she would let it slip.

    ¡°That¡¯s a silly thing for you to want to know.¡± She deflected carefully.

    ¡°It¡¯s just a question.¡±

    ¡°There are better people out there than myself.¡± She dismissed sternly, heading towards the giant fountain in the middle of the southern plaza.

    Sheeva sat, mulling the question over, and crossed her arms as she pondered it. There had not been anyone...else she had been attracted to, not that she let anyone get close enough to her. She thought about the kiss she gave Tazaro a little too often, upset that she seemed to do it completely wrong. Not only that, but it had only estranged them further. It was maddening.

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    Catching sight of her reflection in the water, she had forgotten how surprising it was to not instantly recognize her own face. She splashed at the water to muddle the mirrored, unfamiliar face.

    Other than her ridiculous affections, Sheeva''s unfamiliarity with her meek behavior slowly became the new target of self-destructive obsession over the last week. She replayed the situation repeatedly in her head, wondering what might have happened if she had been blunt and straightforward instead of tiptoeing around the pond while waiting for him on his front porch.

    Down the way, Tazaro and Vincent watched her sit on the edge and muse on something for a moment, then lean over to play with the water with her uncast hand. Tazaro found himself wishing that he could see how the true colors of her eyes and hair contrasted with the jade fountain and not the disguise she held, cute as it was. When she crossed her arms and legs and pouted about something, he found that adorable.

    Tazaro took a deep breath as a thought occurred to him. If she honestly did not understand, perhaps he could help her. He hurried over to a nearby flower stand, browsing the unfamiliar flowers. He kept trying to decide what would look good on her, and all he could think about when trying to decide what to get was what would go with her black hair and red eyes, not her current appearance. It made the process even more complicated, and he absent-mindedly twirled a yellow dahlia in his fingers that he picked up because it seemed to match her outfit.

    ¡°Need help?¡± A voice asked, making him jump. The dahlia slipped from his hand, and he managed to snatch it from its fall, amazed with himself. The reaction-time training Sheeva had made him do catching pencils must have paid off. He shuffled the flower back in the bucket and turned to the old woman that had startled him.

    ¡°Um, yeah. Wanted to see about getting, uh, someone a flower, but I¡¯m no good with plants.¡± He began.

    Never had the patience for them. She does, though. She¡¯s so patient toward plants and...teaching my clumsy ass. He gave a soft huff and a small smile as he thought of his ragora that she brought back from the brink of death.

    ¡°Red roses represent love. Tulips, too.¡± The old lady asked.

    ¡°Oh! Uh, sorry, but no. Not something for love. Not even anything close. She would probably clock me into next week. Or kill me.¡± He admitted, feeling a chill run up his spine as he imagined the beating he might receive.

    ¡°A fighter, hm?¡± She asked. He nodded.

    ¡°Yeah. Strong. Stubborn to high skies. Doesn¡¯t¡­like people. We have...something of a friendship, but even that was a stretch. She can be, uh...¡± He looked back at Sheeva as he tried to decide what to say. ¡°Cute. In a really bizarre way.¡± He finished with a smile.

    He braced himself and crossed his arms as his stomach fell to the floor. He took a deep breath and forced his thoughts from his mouth.

    ¡°She doesn¡¯t seem to think she can be attractive, and I wanted to show her other¨CHe stopped when he saw the attendant was no longer at his side, now perusing a display of daffodils. ¨Cwise?¡± He muttered the end of his sentence and walked up to her.

    ¡°Daffodils represent new beginnings. Perhaps you should start there.¡± She suggested. Tazaro¡¯s eyes darted around on the display of daffodils. Most of the daffodils had yellow or white petals with variants of colors in their middles.

    ¡°What color is her hair, and what color are her eyes?¡± She asked.

    ¡°Black hair, red eyes.¡± He blurted with a small smile, but it faded quickly as he remembered that she did not look like that currently. He screwed his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose, and muttered an ¡°Oh, Vilg sa.¡±

    ¡°I see. Here. Ring of Fire Daffodil. It should look nice in her hair.¡± She answered, handing him a white-petaled daffodil with a red center. He reached into his pocket and handed her the coin Vincent had given him, waiting while she counted out change.

    ¡°It¡¯s a tough thing to do, exercise patience with a Cruinian. Took me years to drill it into my husband¡¯s head that I wanted to marry the fickle bastard. We were together for forty-eight years.¡± She smiled in fond memory and clutched a ring strung to a necklace, then gave Tazaro a gentle shove towards the door. He looked back to say ¡°thank you,¡± but she had already turned around and was helping another customer.

    Sheeva was still by the fountain, now watching others with a fascinated expression on her face, one that she would get whenever she watched him test some new idea with a spell of hers.

    He walked up to her and sat down on her left, trying not to squish the stem of the flower in his hand, though he could already feel the sticky sap from it mix with the sweat on his palm. He set the flower on the side of the fountain and wiped his palm on his pants. Bad idea; it left a noticeable streak. Tazaro quickly gathered himself before he could crumble from clumsiness.

    ¡°Hey. Would you dispel your disguise?¡± He asked carefully. She looked up at him, surprised.

    ¡°We are supposed to be hidden.¡± She reminded him. He gave a soft chuckle. He looked around and leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

    ¡°I am. I¡¯m dead. But you, you¡¯re not.¡±

    He watched her eyes dart back and forth with confusion and worry.

    ¡°Please? I, uh...want to see you.¡± He asked. Gods be damned, that was smooth. He thought.

    She looked around in nerves, and he offered for her to hug him so that others would not just happen to notice a random color change of hair. She took a deep breath and nodded, tucking her head in his hold, closed her eyes, and focused. As she felt a chill amid her eyes and hair, she pulled away and opened them, looking at her reflection in the water.

    Back to that terrible shade of red, Sheeva thought. Her face fell as she stared at the beveled irises amid the crimson, downcast globes.

    He lifted the flower he held, saddened and muttering an apology for his quick movement when he felt her flinch and noticed her eyes widened in worry, relieved when she relaxed. He tucked the daffodil in her hair, resting the stem on her ear.

    ¡°There. Better? I like it. Looks cute on you.¡± He complimented her with an earnest grin.

    With a blooming blush, Sheeva looked at her reflection in the fountain. As Tazaro said, the daffodil did look good on her, with its white petals popping out amid the black of her hair and the crimson core resonating with her eyes and rosy cheeks. The action reminded her of how Rose would weave a crown of flowers and put them around her head when she was younger. It sent a wave of calm over her, and she smiled.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± She whispered. "You''re right; it does look good on me."

    Across the way, Vincent observed the scene, his trademark smirk on his face, then looked up as someone cheerfully called his name.

    It took him a minute to recognize the blonde, shoulder-length, bob-cut of his assistant, Maya. Maya approached him and he gave a small wave, held his finger to his lips, then pointed at Tazaro and Sheeva. Maya turned to look.

    ¡°Aw, you started without me? Rude. I was looking forward to getting a head start this year!" Maya whined, pouting her lip at Vincent.

    Vincent smirked as he started in Sheeva and Tazaro''s direction.

    "Considering who I was with, I couldn''t resist."

    She looked and instantly smiled, fawning over the two.

    "Wow, they''re adorable together." She commented, continuing to scan them over. "If they make it, she''s a lucky girl; he looks like a hunk!" Maya continued. ¡°Who are they?¡± She asked, seeming none the wiser that it was indeed Tazaro a mere twenty feet away.

    Vincent had to admit, he was impressed that Maya had not recognized Tazaro off the bat, but he had to remind himself that not only was Tazaro''s hair and eyes a different color, his hair had also grown to an almost unrecognizable length.

    Vincent and Maya shuffled over in their spot as Micah arrived, dressed in loose-fitting, comfortable clothing, and they wondered if he wasn¡¯t in the spirits to entertain any ladies for the evening. Micah waved the matter off as they continued to stare, giving the excuse that ¡°the kids had me running late.¡±

    Maya beamed at him, then offered a flirtatious tease about his sudden fatherly attitude.

    ¡°Did we already start? Who are we¨C

    ¨Cthose two, apparently. They¡¯re cute together, aren¡¯t they?¡± Maya cut off, pointing at the two subjects under scrutiny. "Oo! Hey, check it out! He''s got a nice-looking sword! Ugh, scary-looking handle, though.¡± She peered her eyes at it, and her lip curled in disgust. ¡°Are those monster teeth? Looks like it could spring to life and eat you."

    At the mention of the familiarly frightening handle, Micah took a second look, recognizing the black hair of Sheeva¡¯s head and the drake-toothed handle of Sheeva¡¯s sword. As she glanced their way, muttered something to the person sitting next to her, he saw a brief flash of worry, and an instant back-turn on the three of them.

    His eyes shot open in surprise, and he grinned before looking to Vincent for answers.

    ¡°Holy shit! Is that¨C

    ¨CHer Highness and our favorite nerd? Oh, yeah!¡± Vincent cut off with a serious grin. Micah covered his mouth with a hand.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think she had the capacity for cuteness.¡± He admitted with a blush.

    ¡°Who are they?¡± Maya asked, giving them both a look. They stared back at her, thinking of what to say without giving away Tazaro¡¯s identity.

    ¡°Friends of ours. Smitten nerdy boy meets antisocial warrior girl.¡± Vincent answered carefully.

    ¡°Think he¡¯ll try to kiss her?¡± She asked, staring back at the man and woman seeming to be in strained, stagnant silence. It was almost a painful sight, and she wasn¡¯t sure who to be more embarrassed for.

    ¡°He damn well better! I might be inclined to punch him if he doesn¡¯t. Betcha five Inue he goes for it.¡± Micah barked.

    ¡°I thought you didn¡¯t bet on your friends?¡± Maya crossed her arms and looked skeptically between the two, now wondering how many times they had possibly bet on her.

    ¡°Normally, no! But, special circumstances. An¡­accumulation of missed moments and delightful misunderstandings, if you will, along with not-so-subtle nurturing by yours truly.¡± Vincent puffed, grinning and slapping Micah¡¯s hand to accept the bet.

    ¡°If neither of you two are going to grow a conscience, then I suppose I will. We should leave them alone.¡± Maya grunted, but remained rooted to her spot, unable to deny her curiosity of the outcome.

    They continued to watch, waiting.

    Sheeva felt eyes on her and looked back at Vincent, seeing another woman and Micah standing next to him as they talked excitedly¨Cand skeptically, as the woman cast a suspicious, indignant glance towards the other two. She brought the newcomers to Tazaro¡¯s attention, and he looked back at them, then away, nervous.

    ¡°Well, shit. Micah. And Maya.¡± He muttered, staring intently at his reflection in the rolling fountain waters.

    ¡°Do you not like her?¡± Sheeva asked.

    ¡°Not romantically.¡± He answered, uncomfortable. He turned his back as much as he could on his friends, annoyed. But, he reminded himself, he really should have expected them to show up and spectate. He gave a soft smile to himself.

    ¡°Hm. Is Maya someone who wastes time with idle prattle?¡± She asked with a genuine laugh at her quick wit. He snickered, feeling a little guilty for laughing because it wasn¡¯t true; he¡¯d just never been interested in the same things she had, but at least she¡¯d had interests.

    ¡°Huh. Humor does help. I can see why you try to be funny in uncomfortable situations.¡±

    ¡°Are you uncomf¨CNo, never mind. You probably are.¡±

    She hummed in contemplation, feeling his assumption was somewhat wrong and took a deep breath.

    ¡°Not quite. Nervous, yes. Uncomfortable, no. At least, not so much as I would be if you were not with me. Normally I would be fidgeting with the handle of Abraxas. If you¡¯ve noticed, the pommel-stone lacks luster.¡± She admitted, then turned to look at her reflection in the water, annoyed with herself as she put them back in an awkward space as Tazaro¡¯s lips curled in a small smile. Sheeva took a deep breath and looked away as she caught the red of her eyes again, then dropped her gaze as she saw a couple share a kiss across the way.

    ¡°I never apologized for my uncouthness the other night. I was, ah, curious and was comfortable doing that with you.¡± She apologized, a blush spreading on her face. Tazaro¡¯s eyes lifted in sheepishness.

    Tazaro smiled even more, immediately thinking of all the cheeky things he could say to that¡­ And all of them felt far too corny or not at all appropriate.

    ¡°Well, um...at least you didn¡¯t miss.¡± He grinned, hoping it would help.

    ¡°My aim is usually impeccable,¡± She smiled, but it fell quickly.

    ¡°I keep thinking that it was disrespectful of me to kiss you without asking, or that perhaps you didn''t appreciate me doing it at all, but you did not stop me, either. I don¡¯t know what to make of it.¡± She murmured.

    Her fingers fidgeted with the grooves of the fountain to calm her thoughts. This was not the right time for a lecture. Tazaro took a deep breath and sighed, shaking his head.

    ¡°You''re being silly again. That has nothing to do with it, Sheeva.¡±

    As she felt a warm hand rest on her cold one, she jumped slightly, then looked at the owner, her heart doing a silly flip as she saw how he looked at her. Warmly, openly...as though she were the cutest thing on the planet.

    ¡°Look. I wanted to kiss you. Just like I do now. So...can I kiss you? Properly, this time?¡± He chuckled, face red as he leaned closer, tucking his fingers under her chin to guide her closer to him. She gave a bashful smile and nodded.

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and brought his other hand to cradle her cheek, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

    Slowly she returned the gesture, taking her time in learning how her lips felt against his. It was infinitely better than the first one they shared, rushed and purely out of curiosity. Goosebumps broke out on her skin, and excitement and soothing peace, not fear, raced through her body. As the pad of his thumb stroked her cheek, she giggled from the tickle, her hand tightening on his.

    He scooted closer and kissed her more firmly, giving a gentle hum at their proximity as she set her free hand on his shoulder to feel the silkiness of his shirt beneath her fingers. Sure, she felt childish doing so, but it seemed to encourage him to kiss her more firmly and pull her closer to hold her to his chest. The guiding pressure of his lips on hers as they puckered and melded with such care was exhilarating, and the wrap of his arms around her frame shattered her chains of negativity as her heart sang in jubilation while she succumbed to the security of his embrace.

    The crowd around them disappeared, and the sound of rippling, bubbling water faded as she let herself bask in the sweet, gentle kiss and support of his hold, a hum of serenity and content flowing from her throat as they parted.

    So this was how exciting it was to trust in and kiss someone. How emancipating from constant vigilance, and how beautifully it assured her that she, too, could receive such affection!

    But¡­most of all, it was undoubtedly liberating, as if learning to fly all over again, only this time, Sheeva found herself unbound from mental anguish than the confines of the ground.

    It made Sheeva¡¯s heart flutter, skin buzz with thrill, and face heat with a rush of blood.

    ¡°Hm, better?¡± He asked, nudging her nose with his, his delight unmistakeable in his tender, husky voice that sent a shiver down her back.

    She could only giggle to appease the squeak of thrill that threatened to erupt from her chest, and shyly pulled away, directing her aching grin to the rippling waters. She dared not look at her face, certain it was as deep crimson as her eyes, and instead, focused on the specks of stars now dotting the darkening sky.

    A high-pitched whistle snared her attention, and she wheeled around to look for the source, on high alert from the unfamiliar noise. As an ear-shattering boom thundered through the plaza above them, a startled cry shot from her chest, and Sheeva broke away and sprang to action.

    She grabbed the handle of Abraxas and tore it out of its scabbard, holding it in front of her defensively and looking around. Everyone else¡¯s attention was on the sky, and as Tazaro walked in front of her with his hands raised to calm her down, she lowered her weapon, still breathing heavily and trembling with the adrenaline rush as she looked at the sky.

    The colorful flashes of light tingled into her spine, and she dropped her gaze in embarrassment.

    ¡°It¡¯s ok, Sheeva. It¡¯s fine. These are fireworks. I-I guess we should have told you they¡¯d be loud.¡± He assured her. He took her sword from her and sheathed it, then offered a hand for her to take. She did not receive it right away.

    ¡°I have seen those before. I just did not know what they were called. You can see them from the temple rooftops.¡± She explained. She looked at Tazaro again, feeling silly at her confession. His hair had changed back to its usual chestnut brown, and she cast her altering spell on him, turning it back to a shimmering black.

    He shivered as it went into effect, then looked over as Vincent, Micah, and Maya came into view, walking towards them, laughing. Tazaro¡¯s gut tightened in nerves, hoping Maya would not find something she recognized about him.

    ¡°Hey, you just earned me five Inue! A good start to the night!¡± Micah barked, grinning like a fool.

    ¡°Could you possibly find someone else to embarrass?¡± Tazaro asked, this time grateful that his voice was taut and an octave higher from embarrassment as he tried to avoid Maya¡¯s gaze. He turned his back on them.

    Sheeva felt herself becoming drained, blinking slowly, and as she took a knee, she wiped away the sweat on her forehead.

    ¡°You good, Sheeva?¡± Vincent asked, noticing her tired state.

    ¡°I...am running out of time. I need to leave.¡± She told him.

    ¡°Ah. Gotcha. If the fireworks are too loud, you can go to the outskirts of town. There¡¯s a hillside that will net you a nice view. Let¡¯s go find some other suckers to bet on, guys.¡± Vincent offered. He looped his arm with Maya¡¯s and headed in the opposite direction. Tazaro watched the two of them disappear into the crowd, relieved.

    Micah turned to leave, then looked back at them.

    ¡°You look adorable, Your Highness. Take care of the nerd, willya?¡± He teased with a smirk, turning to take off after his friends.

    ¡°Her name is Sheeva,¡± Tazaro muttered, giving a not-so-enthused wave. Sheeva frowned and looked at Tazaro curiously for his choosing to defend her and not himself, then shook the look off her face.

    Left alone, they headed for the southern gate, and as a group of people flocked into the street, Sheeva strolled around the crowd, Tazaro at her side.

    He pointed this curiosity out to her, and Sheeva thankfully answered, blinking tiredly at him.

    ¡°I avoid crowds because people are grabby, and some have sticky fingers.¡± She put it curtly, pressing on towards the gate.

    When they passed through the gates, Sheeva slowed, exhausted. After they slowly climbed the hillside, they turned around to survey the view, and Sheeva found herself smiling as she saw how they lit up the night sky. As a breeze swept across them, Sheeva took a deep breath, smelling the funny scent of sulfur in the air. It took her back to watching the bursts of colors in the distance from the top of the temple roof with Cassie and Kyle, snacks of grapes, tomatoes, cheese, and bread split between the three of them.

    ¡°Cassie, Kyle, and I grew up watching ¡®the colorful lights¡¯ from the temple rooftops. Before, we would climb, but after I bared my wings, I would fly us up there. We¡¯d sneak snacks and hot tea from the kitchens and watch them light up from dusk to dawn.¡± She admitted with a nostalgic smile.

    He gave a hum of curiosity.

    ¡°Oh, you can see them from that far?¡±

    She nodded, looking for the direction of the temple. Pointing it out, she gave a brief explanation of the towering watchtowers and ramparts. Tazaro squinted for it at the base of the mountains, but couldn¡¯t see anything in the darkness.

    ¡°What exactly are fireworks?¡± She asked, thinking that he would be able to tell her. He helped her sit, then sat next to her on the grassy knoll and leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees. He felt a chill as the spell she cast wore off, and as her wing and usual button-up shirt and shorts came into view, he figured she must have run out of energy. Either that, or she was confident they were entirely alone and had dismissed it. As she lay back and blinked sluggishly at the sky, he decided the dismissal of the spell was for the former and not the latter.

    ¡°Explosive powder jammed into canisters. They get their color from different chemicals mixed in.¡± He explained, laying back with her to look at the stars, more interested in those.

    ¡°They are even prettier up close. Although, not...too close.¡± She chuckled, finding the sudden laughability at her extreme vigilance something new.

    ¡°I suppose. I prefer admiring the constellations.¡±

    She turned to him, a little surprised since he liked to create, and thought he would appreciate such a thing.

    ¡°You do not think so? I thought you liked artful things.¡±

    ¡°Fireworks don¡¯t last very long. I think art is something that should be everlasting or at least long-lasting. Like statues, paintings, architecture. Not something that lasts for a few seconds and then disappears. Plus, they¡¯re loud.¡±

    ¡°Mm. It would be nice if fireworks were not so loud.¡±

    ¡°But, art is subjective. It¡¯s different for everyone.¡± He added as an afterthought.

    ¡°There are rumors of waves of light in the night sky in the middle of summer in the northern reaches of Pacem. While they are not constant, they are considered a sight to behold. I¡¯d like to see them someday. It was something I wanted to pursue after killing Llyud.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± He asked, sounding more surprised than he meant to. She scoffed, sat up, and picked at a blade of grass as though she could pluck words from the ground.

    ¡°I had some goals beyond revenge.¡±

    ¡°Had? What about have?¡±

    She stopped fidgeting with the grass at her feet and turned to look at him, mildly confused.

    ¡°What?¡±

    Tazaro froze. Her stern tone shook him a little, but he held fast, determined.

    ¡°You can still go after those things, you know. After Zakaraia. Or even during. You have already been doing that, I think.¡± He pointed out with a winning smile and a blush on his cheeks.

    Sheeva scoffed to cover up her returning smile. While Tazaro was right, overcoming some of her physical discomforts was not her primary concern. Her face deepened into a scowl, and she crossed her arms, not looking at him, but not paying much attention to the flashing lights she stared through, either.

    I could, assuming Zakaraia does not kill me first. Sheeva thought, no longer interested in the fireworks. Tazaro felt the shift in ambiance, and thought for a moment, hoping that she wasn¡¯t regretting opening up to him as she had. After stealing a glance at her face, the frightened glint in her steely eyes could only mean she was drowning about Zakaraia again.

    Hoping to nip this one in the bud once and for all, Tazaro braced himself for his next question.

    ¡°Thinking about Zakaraia, again?¡± He called, impressed that she didn¡¯t even seem to hide the sigh and frown of defeat. Perhaps, she was too tired to.

    ¡°Yes.¡± She admitted.

    He nodded to himself and focused on the stars that made up Coeurlregina¡¯s pointy ears and ketze face.

    ¡°Why would Zakaraia choose to go to Cruinia? Is there something there that you are avoiding?¡± Tazaro wondered aloud. Maybe, there was some connection somewhere that Sheeva, despite all of her drowning pools of thought, had not anticipated.

    Sheeva stared into the ground, contemplating his question. Given how little she seemed to want to pack up the topic and shove it away, she supposed now was a good time to think and talk about it. She found herself suddenly wishing they had a bottle of wine to share since the occasional drunken ramble seemed to do wonders for the psyche.

    ¡°I have not been back to my birthplace in about eighteen years. As much as I hate to admit, I am terrified of going back. The woman that birthed me is still there. So is the orphanage. I might be inclined to exact unnecessary revenge.¡± She admitted. She brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them.

    Although she had clued him in on a couple of things, and that he¡¯d formed his own unverified opinions, it made his stomach churn as he imagined even darker things that she may have gone through to warrant her stifling the desire to kill. He didn¡¯t dare open that can of worms¨Cat least, not yet.

    ¡°Aside from the obvious, why do you say ¡®woman that birthed me?¡¯ Isn¡¯t that a bit of a mouthful? Couldn¡¯t you just say ¡®biological mother¡¯? Uh¨Cnot that I''m saying you can''t. I''m just curious.¡± Tazaro asked.

    She huffed and focused on picking dirt out of her fingernails. It had been so long since she had thought of the woman¡¯s face, but the hazy visage of auburn hair and red eyes, complete with a thin smile like a serpent¡¯s, began to come to view. A twinge of pain stabbed in her chest as she realized that she couldn¡¯t recall seeing the sparkle of life or happiness, as she had in Rose¡¯s and Mildred¡¯s, only disdain and seething hatred. Because, what else had Sheeva ever been at that point other than an ¡°evil, twisted waste of life?¡±

    Tazaro waited out her deafening silence, wondering if she was going to answer.

    ¡°That woman abandoned me on the steps of an orphanage in Torde. I was...still in the habit of calling her mother after arriving at the temple, though I didn¡¯t know what else to call her. She still gave birth to me, much as I sometimes...wished she hadn¡¯t.¡± She admitted, a sour look on her face. She clung to the speck of hope she felt upon realizing that, somewhere along the line, she had developed a dislike of the idea that she wished she¡¯d never been born at all.

    What had Tazaro asked, that threw her down this rabbit hole? Why say ¡°woman that birthed me?¡±

    ¡°Woman that birthed me was something Rose said. She wanted to make it funny, somehow. For a while, it-it was. It...stopped after Rose was killed.¡± She replied, resting her head on her arm as she thought about it. Her chest felt heavy, weighted by guilt, as she briefly realized that Rose would have wanted her to focus on a happy life. Sheeva sighed, upset. How could she have forgotten such a thing?

    As she felt fear with the idea that she disrespected Rose¡¯s memory, she remembered Vincent¡¯s profound question that seemed to turn her upside down. She gave a soft hmph. She couldn¡¯t be the only one regretting their life¡¯s circumstances tonight.

    ¡°What is your meaning of life, Tazaro? Do you have one?¡± She asked, wondering if he could shed some light on the ideas she had running through her head whenever she thought about it. Ever since Vincent had asked her, she often returned to the question while sitting in contemplation on the balcony.

    In those moments of calm beneath the opalescent night sky, her thoughts were light. She felt maybe the meaning of life was to do whatever she wanted without caring what others thought. But, for the most part, she was already doing that, and when she took a good hard look at what she¡¯d accomplished in doing so, it only left her in embittering solitude.

    Other times the theological suffocation would hit when she was trying to get to sleep or after waking in the middle of the night from a nightmare. In those times, she felt life was horribly botched¨Ca rigged game of giving until she died with nothing in return and never having really accomplished anything. These moments drowned her in fear and misery, and she pleaded with the unknown gods that there had to be something beyond what she discovered or ultimately decided. Something better, somehow.

    Feeling philosophical today, are we? Tazaro thought to himself, though she seemed deeply worried by whatever his answer might be. In light of recent events, he could understand how grave one¡¯s musings could easily become in relation to the open-ended, familiar question.

    He smiled, remembering one of the nights Vincent, Micah, Perron, and he had all stayed up into the wee hours of morning drafting their own ideas as they sat around the amphitheater and drank from a bottle of Pyuritan Riesling. Vincent must have asked her the same question.

    ¡°The meaning of life is to give life meaning.¡± He answered with a smile as he watched her expression carefully, eager to see the glow of a pleasant, motivating epiphany. Just as he¡¯d wished, the hopeful light shined in her eyes, and the starstruck smile curled on the edge of her lips as his words sunk in.

    Sheeva pressed a cool hand to her face, embarrassed, feeling that she had been overthinking the simple phrase. Could it really have been so straightforward? The wise words smacked her upside the head, much like a witty ¡°-ism¡± from Malfa Temple¡¯s Master, and the power of the statement alone made her skin tingle...or it could have just been because there was now a slight chill in the breeze that blew over them.

    ¡°To give life meaning, huh?¡± She mumbled, finding she liked the way they felt on her tongue.

    ¡°Yeah. Life is what you make of it, no matter what crappy hand it deals you from the start.¡± He rephrased.

    ¡°Aside from enjoying taking things apart and seeing how they work, I suppose that that¡¯s been another big reason why I like to create things. I make things that can help others, or fix them, and that makes life meaningful¨Cat least, to me.¡± He explained with a smile.

    ¡°Even if I¡¯m just fixing bastard printing presses.¡± He added with a complimentary eye-roll.

    Sheeva gave a small chuckle, then shuddered, still feeling the growing, crushing weight of guilt in her chest.

    And what have I done with my life? I spent it training for an act of revenge that I had taken away from me, and now, I will be training even more for the same reason. If we kill Zakaraia, what then? What would I...What would I have left? Would my reason for existence die with him?

    As she felt the anger swelling within, she scowled even more. There. The fear and anger I felt before. Are they only here because I cannot let go? If I let go, what do I have left? This revenge was...It was the only thing I had known for the last ten years.

    Sheeva wrapped her arms around herself, determined and desperately reaching for something else, something more, because, of all the things she had done, it couldn¡¯t have just been for naught, nor simply boiled down into wasted youth.

    No. No, that is not true! I have Cassie. She helped me much, and I¡¯m sure she will continue to help me when we get to the temple. Tazaro and Vincent helped to nurse me back to health. Micah took in those children I cared for. They all push me to question my stoic ways.

    Her hands tightened on her arms, and she felt herself swoon, recalling the many different hugs she had received from Tazaro. She hid the bemused smile as the shadow of his lips mingled with hers. Tazaro is here even now. I...have friends that are willing to help me.

    Her hopeful thoughts were futile, and her face fell.

    ¡°But who have I helped?¡± She muttered aloud. Tazaro turned to her.

    ¡°What?¡± He blurted, sitting up to face her a little better.

    She looked at him, then looked at her hands. They did not create anything, despite her literacy. Cooking did not count, being necessary for survival. If anything, they became harbingers of death, trained in ways to maim and kill. And soon, she would be introducing the same disastrous ways to Tazaro.

    ¡°I have only ever helped myself.¡± She admitted.

    If you seriously believe that, then you¡¯re more stubborn than I gave you credit for, Sheeva. Tazaro held his hand to his mouth to keep from saying the idea out loud and kept it there for a few minutes before speaking up, wanting to gather his thoughts. He hoped she listened to what he was about to say.

    ¡°That¡¯s not true. You¡¯re helping me. You could have just left me behind instead of agreeing to take me with you to the temple or just been dragging me along while you chase after Zakaraia. Yet, you agreed to train my clumsy butt.¡± He stated, giving a little chuckle, wanting to keep the conversation light. Though as he began to list examples in his head, Tazaro realized it would not be possible.

    ¡°You took care of some homeless, orphaned kids and donated money to a stranger so he could get a prosthetic leg. Whatever that bow-down was that you did to Micah for him to take care of those kids, I don¡¯t imagine you do that freely. You cut a deal with a ta¡¯hal for my freedom, as much as you probably don¡¯t want to admit that.¡±

    He swallowed the lump in his throat.

    "Your words last week were¡­incredible. I feel like I have a weight lifted off my shoulders. Like I''m closer to becoming my own person again. It''s very¡­inspiring. Believe me when I say that I¡¯m eternally grateful. Especially to have my ability to laugh freely back. Having that taken from you is...like being trapped in a room."

    He took a deep breath, preparing himself. Sheeva might not accept his next point.

    ¡°Sheeva, look at me.¡± He asked. Surprised with his command, she did, emotional pain plain on her face.

    ¡°You fought Zakaraia until your bones were literally broken and your body cut to shreds. You almost died trying to protect my mother and me, and that? That speaks volumes, Sheeva.¡± He said as fiercely as he could without letting on that he was angry that she thought so harshly of herself. Sheeva glared at him for bringing up the painful topic and turned her head away as he thought she would. He took a deep breath, held it, and sighed, feeling himself relax.

    ¡°So...your methods are very unorthodox, but you¡¯ve done a lot, and you¡¯re still trying. I believe s¨CMm, no, I know so.¡± He turned back to watch the fireworks, much as he did not care for them. Interest lost quickly, he lay back on the grass to stare at the skies.

    ¡°You...truly believe such a thing?¡± She asked. Her voice was small, gravelly, and full of pain.

    ¡°Yes. I do. I absolutely mean that. You¡¯re so much more than just your revenge.¡±

    He looked over at her when he heard a whimper. She had her head resting on her knees, shaking from what he assumed was her trying to hold back tears. She bared her uninjured wing and wrapped it around herself.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He apologized, reaching to set a comforting hand on her shoulder. She brushed his hand off with her wing and returned it around herself.

    ¡°Leave.¡± She hissed. ¡°Please.¡± She added, softer still.

    He nodded, got to his feet, and walked away, hands in his pockets while trying to ignore the nabbing fact that he seemed to make Sheeva cry far too often. Sheeva¡¯s wails echoed amid the pops of fireworks, eventually drowning out as he wandered further away along the hillside. The bobbling gem of the Moogle constellation shined bright, which he recently thought to be Silka, a blue planet that might just be a giant chunk of ice; there did not seem to be any discernible evidence to suggest otherwise. He wondered if he could get a better view if the Stargazer was bigger.

    He kept his distance for a good while, waiting until the moons had risen well above the western plains of Vivroa to show his face. She looked exhausted, the whites of her eyes red and puffy, the flower dangling from her hair. She undid her braid, ruffled her hair, and held the daffodil fondly, smiling at it.

    ¡°Thank you.¡± She whispered, voice still taut from her intense cry. Tazaro fought a chuckle and shrugged his shoulders.

    ¡°You''re welcome, Sheeva. Let¡¯s just enjoy the rest of these fireworks, hm?¡± He suggested with a chuckle, taking his seat next to her again. This time, she scooted closer and leaned into him, letting go of a tense breath as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

    They did not return to the apartment until well after midnight.

 Chapter 23: The Dekkir Street Kids

    As the final week of recovery came to a close, Sheeva had to shrink the Stargazer and hide it for both him and herself to get decent rest before they set off for the temple. It would be a long trip, and considering they would be traveling on foot, they would have to allow time for increased breaks and sleep. Tazaro had buried himself in exploring the skies, sometimes in solitude, other times, with her at his side, gazing up at the stars along with him.

    Occasionally, she sat off to the side reading the book she borrowed, and Tazaro even gave her a sympathetic look when she snapped the book shut in a fury after learning one of the hard-working characters was simply tossed aside after a severe injury. He agreed with her frustrations and urged her to at least finish it...and then she could hurl it off the balcony if she still wanted to. He was confident she would not want to and would end up being as pleasantly disappointed as he had been, but perhaps he was being foolishly hopeful.

    Vincent had agreed to remove the cast from her arm and the splint from her wing with the promise that she would allow him to make sure she was healthy enough to leave first. Sheeva felt sure that she was okay since she treated her wounds with magic every chance she could spare.

    Sitting around a large scrap of cloth on the floor of Tazaro¡¯s bedroom, Tazaro chipped away at the plaster, being careful not to drive the chisel into Sheeva¡¯s arm. The stone-like material cracked and flaked, and Sheeva resisted the urge to wriggle her arm at the decompression. When a chasm had been fully carved, Vincent stepped in, taking a pair of scissors and cutting away the bandages and cloth underneath.

    ¡°Okay. Moment of truth.¡± Vincent muttered, removing the cast from Sheeva¡¯s arm. She looked, eager to see the progress. Other than indent lines from the fabric, there was no swelling or discoloration. Vincent pressed his fingers to the bones, feeling around for anything that was out of place. There was nothing save for a buildup of bone from where the fracture had healed over itself. She grabbed her arm and squeezed, turning it over and rolling her wrist around, finally able to stretch it.

    ¡°That is a good sign. Seems it¡¯s healed nicely.¡± He stated, ushering Tazaro out of the room. ¡°Now for the splint on your wing. Hopefully, that healed well, too.¡±

    Sheeva turned her back to Vincent, shirt already shed, eager to remove the restraining thing binding her wing in place. Unable to hold still, she helped him unravel the medical tape around the metacarpals that strapped them down.

    He reached above Sheeva¡¯s head to remove the splint around her wing¡¯s humerus. As Vincent unbound it, he prodded at the limb as he had with her arm, happy to find it healed well, too. After he finished, Sheeva spread the wing out, stretching to her full potential, mindful of the furniture. The wing trembled a little, its muscles atrophied, and Vincent helped to hold it up while he further examined it. It seemed to set straight, as well. Sheeva hoped the muscle weakness was something she would be able to fix with physical therapy.

    ¡°I¡¯m really grateful; I think you¡¯ll be alright to fly.¡± He commented, wrapping up the scraps of cloth in the tarp on the floor and bunching the bundle under his arm, ignoring the half-naked woman in the room as she moved and tested out the wing¡¯s mobility. "Of course, what do I know? Never dealt with wings before," Vincent dismissed himself.

    Sheeva shook her head, feeling he had little reason to discount his medical knowledge.

    ¡°I am relieved, though I was not too worried.¡± She puffed, stretching again and popping her back. Vincent cringed at its sound; its depth seemed to be something she had suffered with for a while.

    ¡°When will you two leave? I think you should stay a couple more days.¡± Vincent asked, somewhat reluctant to see them go. He still had a couple of ideas that he wanted to stick into Sheeva¡¯s brain, hopefully helping her get out of her pessimistic mindset, though she seemed to be incredibly pacified over the last week and in a slight, cheerful haze. He dared not ask what had happened after she and Tazaro had left their motley crew but decided his guess that they had relieved some of their sexual tension was more than likely wrong anyway.

    ¡°We will be. We need to prepare for the journey ahead. It will take us a week to get to the temple.¡± Sheeva answered, struggling to shuffle her wing back into wherever the things disappeared to. She grabbed a shirt and threw it on, buttoning it up. Now that there was no wing in the way, the overly large shirt felt more like a dress, hanging far beyond the bottom edge of her shorts.

    ¡°You¡¯re not just going to chase after the man you¡¯re looking for?¡± He asked, wondering if he was able to talk some sense into her after all. By the expression reflected in the mirror, it did not seem so. She shook her head at him and sat down in Tazaro¡¯s chair.

    ¡°No. Tazaro needs to be further trained. Plus, I don¡¯t imagine city-dwellers would take too kindly to people flying around in the sky. I need to rehabilitate and strengthen myself as well.¡± She stated, crossing her arms and legs and leaning back in the chair she was in. She stared out of the window. Vincent figured that was good enough.

    He reached for the package on the desk and handed it to Sheeva.

    ¡°Here. Some medical supplies, in case you guys need them.¡±

    Sheeva inspected the supplies, laying them out on the desk to take an inventory of them: two splints, rolls of bandages, and a block of pain medicine. She hummed in appreciation and began to shuffle the items into her medical kit.

    Vincent figured he would leave her be, headed for the door, opened it, and caught Tazaro¡¯s eye. He silently tipped his head toward the living room, indicating that he needed to talk to him about something. Bracing himself for whatever it could be, Tazaro nodded and walked out, muttering that he would be back.

    ¡°Take your time. Once we leave Roussell, you likely won¡¯t be returning home for a while.¡± Sheeva called out.

    They paused and looked back. Sheeva sighed and shook her head.

    "I figure you have a lot to talk about. And, I imagine you¡¯ll be wanting to lecture me about something else to make me question my bizarre ways, Vincent.¡± She said with a small smile. ¡°So, we will take a couple of days and do that. We should spare the time. I wanted to say goodbye to Josef and the other kids before we left, anyway.¡± Sheeva explained.

    ¡°Well, I had a couple of things I wanted to say and get through that head of yours, but that just depends on how stubborn you are,¡± Vincent said with a smirk. Sheeva turned and gave him a tired smile, then waved him off.

    ¡°Heh. Go.¡± She chuckled, turning back to her things.

    Tazaro followed Vincent out into the living room, and as Vincent sat down in his big green chair, Tazaro sat in his usual spot: the left side of the couch.

    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Tazaro began, sure Vincent wanted to point something romantic about the two of them embarking on such an adventure. He leaned his head on his arm, drumming his fingers on his knee with the other hand in wait.

    ¡°I just want to make sure you¡¯re really up for this. Taking off to train, possibly kill the guy that killed your Mom. It, uh, seems a little...¡± He paused, unable to find a word for it.

    ¡°Nuts?¡± Tazaro offered with a small smile, relieved that this was Vincent¡¯s concern. If he were honest, it did seem crazy.

    ¡°Uh, excessive, maybe. I mean, I know you¡¯re dead and all, but are you sure? I mean, you could start over in some other town. Forget about this Zakaraia.¡± Vincent suggested. Tazaro shook his head slowly.

    ¡°One: Mom¡¯s death aside, he¡¯s been killing people all over the place. It hasn¡¯t just been Mom.¡± Tazaro began, holding up a finger as he began to list his reasons. Vincent blinked and raised his eyebrows as this was news to him, though unsurprising.

    ¡°Two: I¡¯d really like to keep learning all this new stuff. The only way I can see that happening is if I go with her. Plus, she¡¯ll likely need help with Zakaraia.¡± Tazaro added, holding up another finger.

    ¡°Three¡­¡± He sighed and dropped his hand, then stared at the bookshelf. ¡°I¡¯m...kind of not normal anymore. Being in this town¨Cespecially when I¡¯m supposed to be dead¨Cis¡­weird to me. I can¡¯t go see some of my friends, and when I do, I¡¯d probably have to be disguised. I¨CI have wings, and I probably couldn¡¯t show them any of the cool spells I¡¯ve learned without freaking them out. I¡¯m not the same. It¡¯s really, uh...¡± He began to fidget with his fingers.

    ¡°You and Micah have been supportive, but if I were around anyone else, I would feel like an outcast. So, I should leave, I think. At least for now. Maybe I¡¯ll come back and visit when I¡¯m less eager to show off.¡± He gave a smile. ¡°Also, that way, if I am discovered to be alive, it¡¯s less awkward. I can say I¡¯ve been...traveling, or something, I don¡¯t know. But anyway, after a few years, no one will actually be waiting for me.¡±

    Tazaro turned and looked in the direction of his bedroom.

    ¡°Lady¡¯s teat. I guess this is how Sheeva feels daily,¡± He blurted, the chilling thought slipping from his mouth before he could stop it.

    Vincent could only stare, mind grasping at thoughts that wisped away before he could form anything coherent.

    ¡°I...I have nothing to say. Huh. Don¡¯t know what I expected, really.¡±

    Tazaro shook his head, feeling relieved to drop this final bombshell.

    ¡°There¡¯s...nothing you really can say. I¡¯ve made up my mind and have already dedicated this much of my time. Good luck would be nice, though.¡± He cracked, chuckling at his wit and leaning back on the couch to drop his gaze to the floor, unable to thoroughly shake the troublesome feelings.

    Vincent raised his eyebrows, then nodded in acceptance, his lips pursed. Tazaro was right, and he seemed to have made up his mind and thought about it extensively.

    ¡°Well. There it is. I wish you terrible luck, Tazaro.¡± He smiled.

    Tazaro scoffed and rolled his eyes, the curl of a humorous smile creeping to his face.

    As though he were leaving at any minute to embark on his journey, Tazaro stared around at the room, sighing in bittersweet reluctance. He would miss the grandfather clock ticking away in the corner, with its swinging tongue as it barked at them to get to sleep at a decent hour, and the stone fireplace, which, between both himself and Vincent, had always been providing heat over the five long winters they had suffered in the stuffy apartment. He hoped that the temple Sheeva spoke so nostalgically of harbored a hot-water system of some kind, or at least one better than this shoddy complex, tired of needing to boil water whenever he wanted a scalding, hot-as-hellfire bath.

    ¡°So, what happened between you two after you two left the festival? Did you bring her back here to, uh,¡± Vincent paused to snicker, ¡°Make your own fireworks?¡±

    Tazaro shot him an unamused look.

    ¡°Really, Vincent? Is that what you honestly think we did?¡± He asked, glancing down the hallway. It seemed Sheeva was still in his room, hopefully with the door shut.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think so, but you never know. Tell me you guys at least had a good time the rest of the night.¡± Vincent seemed to plead, appearing incredibly hopeful. Tazaro stared at him for a second, briefly contemplating telling him the truth: that he¡¯d shattered some evil, malignant paradigm that Sheeva had enclosed herself in and¨Cwell, perhaps it would be best to not admit that he had made her cry.

    ¡°Yeah. Talked about a few things.¡± He summed. The ambiguous answer seemed to satisfy Vincent, who nodded approvingly and sat back.

    Tazaro continued to eye the room, although less attentive to the yellow, corduroy ottoman he liked to lean on, or the couch that likely had his six-foot, four-inch bodily imprint on it from tossing and turning overnight for the last two months, and more concerned with how Sheeva was actually doing, considering she¡¯d been quaintly reserved and passively withdrawn, but seeming at peace whenever they shared the balcony.

    ¡°Can I say something else?¡± Vincent asked, crossing one leg over the other and leaning on his arm. Tazaro looked up from the green rug in the middle of the floor, trying to remember where they¡¯d gotten it from, unable to fully recall.

    ¡°Hm?¡±

    ¡°You can¡¯t compare Sheeva to Kirin. She¡¯s anything but, I think. Sure, she¡¯s assertive, but likely because she¡¯s had to be to survive.¡±

    ¡°Mm. Yeah,¡± Tazaro muttered, trying to suggest dismissal of the topic, certain he knew where Vincent was leading with this.

    ¡°Seriously. Kirin broke you down. Disrespected you, berated your ideas, ignored your boundaries. Sheeva...builds you up. Respects you. Listens to your ideas. Has¡­ a very odd sense of boundaries. Have you, uh, considered that maybe you two could¨C

    ¨CShe¡¯s about to be my teacher. That¡¯s a bit messed up, isn¡¯t it?¡± Tazaro countered.

    Vincent scowled and rolled his eyes so hard that they physically hurt.

    ¡°Oh, for fuck¡¯s sake! It¡¯s not like you¡¯re a horny teenager hot for your thirty-year-old teacher! She¡¯s your age, isn¡¯t she?¡± Vincent barked, raising his shoulders in question. ¡°Besides, you were going to ask the woman on a date about two months ago, Tazaro. It¡¯s not that messed up.¡±

    Tazaro snapped his mouth shut and chewed on his lip. He had forgotten he told Vincent about his silly idea. He furrowed his brow and dropped his head.

    ¡°Yeah, but that was before...everything.¡± He countered, then heaved a heavy sigh. ¡°Look. I¡¯m not going to push it. I can¡¯t risk it. She, uh, likely understands the things I am going through or about to go through that others wouldn¡¯t. I kind of need that more than¨Cmore than anything else. If anything, maybe letting things slowly unfold themselves for now. Work on becoming better¡­partners? I¡¯m not sure, but until then, no.¡± Tazaro insisted.

    Vincent sat back again, humbled, as he hadn¡¯t considered such a lonely outcome if things went south.

    ¡°Fortune favors the bold, you know.¡±

    ¡°And risk ending up like that guy with the ruptured testicles? No thanks. I¡¯d like to have kids someday.¡±

    Vincent clicked his tongue and scrunched his face.

    ¡°Good luck.¡±

    Sheeva announced her presence loudly with a clearing of her throat.

    ¡°You seem to wish him more luck than he needs, Vincent.¡± She snickered, tightening the holster for Abraxas to her hip on her way out of the door. ¡°I¡¯ll be back later. I¡¯m going to see Josef and the others.¡± She announced, stepping through the threshold and into the warm, summer sun.

    Tazaro and Vincent stared for a moment, and Tazaro couldn¡¯t help the glimmer of hope ignite its way through his chest.

    More than I need, huh?

    ¡°We might need to start passing notes like we used to in class. I don¡¯t know how much Sheeva heard.¡± Vincent stated, giving an apologetic look to Tazaro. He shrugged and waved it off, heading to his room to begin packing.

    Sheeva basked in the soothing warmth of the sun¡¯s rays on her skin as she hurried her way through town, not caring who she bumped into as she briskly headed to the run-down house on Dekkir Street. She hoped it still stood and had been at least repaired in some way.

    Panting slightly from her rushed walk, Sheeva stared down the old, run-down house, relieved to see that none of the children she cared for were still living in it. She crossed the threshold and stepped toward the picture on the wall, lifted it, and set it aside carefully, clapping the dust off her hands. The sigil still sat there, etched and carved into the wood.

    She retrieved a knife and held it at the bottom of the sigil, hesitating briefly, wondering if, should she slice through the sigil, a large gash would appear on her arm. She poked at a corner of the sigil to test it, and when nothing happened, she scratched at the spot a little deeper. A shattering sound reached her ears as the sigil broke, the flow of energy disrupted.

    Her arm itched like an irritating mosquito bite, and as she scratched at it, she hissed at the mild burn that spread as the sigil glowed, though it was nothing compared to the searing sizzle of the destructive fire that burned Mildred¡¯s house down. She blew on the now stinging wound to soothe it, dousing a handkerchief in water and freezing it. Dabbing at the damage to her forearm, she checked around the empty house for any belongings to distract her from her burning discomfort.

    It seemed the place was picked clean, and assuring herself it was by the previous occupants, she made a mental note to thank Micah for his efforts.

    She crossed back onto the leaky porch and paused to take one last look, surprised that she would be so attached to a building, of all things. Sheeva chuckled to herself and scrunched her nose, amused with her silly self, and shook it off to continue down the street. Her gait had slowed considerably, thanks to the injury to her leg, and, unwilling to set herself back, she languidly paced herself toward the barracks. Still, it helped alleviate her downed spirits to thumb the silver watch in her pocket with one hand and the pommel-stone of Abraxas with the other.

    Ah, familiarity. Sheeva smiled to herself.

    Upon reaching the spacious compound for the military barracks and training grounds, she retrieved the small, poorly sketched map Vincent drew for her to find Micah¡¯s office and followed it as well as she could, needing to squint at the illegibly scribbled calligraphy that only a doctor would have. Pausing at the door labeled ¡°Captain¡¯s Quarters,¡± she rapped her knuckles in the pattern Vincent would upon returning home from work. Inside, she heard Micah say something along the lines of ¡°well, that¡¯s someone I know.¡±

    She heard him call to Sophia to ¡°get the door¡± but reached out and snatched the door before it could open, holding it with all her might, a playful smile on her face. She heard Sophia calling out the fact that someone was keeping the door shut.

    ¡°Speak the passphrase, and I will let go,¡± Sheeva called. The force on the other side of the door stopped abruptly, and silence ensued for a moment before Sophia spoke.

    ¡°Where do the Tinker Owls roost?¡±

    Sheeva felt her eyes lift in pride and cheer, and she let go of the handle.

    ¡°The belfry of the clocktower¡­dear," she finished hesitantly, a twinge of longing for Mildred''s calming company.

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    The door flew open, revealing the shocked bunch, all clambering near the entrance to welcome her. Their hands grasped at her clothes and arms to wrestle her in, surrounding her and clamoring in joy. She turned her back on Micah as well as she could, not wanting him to witness the bittersweet tears she felt welling in the corners of her eyes.

    They had all witnessed her cry once, and that was far more times than she¡¯d cared for. Sheeva returned their hugs, looking between them all to see how much they changed in the last couple of months under Micah¡¯s care. Their faces had filled out, color returning to their cheeks, and their hair seemed less wispy and wiry, no longer needing to fend for themselves, able to get decent meals and sleep. Everyone appeared to have even grown a couple inches; Yelena reached Sheeva¡¯s waist, and Nook stood at Sheeva¡¯s elbow, while Sophia stood halfway up her upper arm and Arc was almost to her shoulders.

    Realizing Josef was not there, she turned and looked to Micah for an explanation.

    ¡°Where is Josef?¡± She asked, trying to still her worry.

    ¡°He¡¯s working in the kitchens. I can take you to him.¡±

    ¡°He is?¡± She asked, surprised.

    ¡°Yeah! Arc and I work there, too! Everyone¡¯s nice to us!¡± Sophia interjected, grinning. Sheeva smiled; even their teeth were whiter, finally having the things needed to care for them.

    ¡°They are? Good.¡± She asked, further relieved.

    ¡°They better be. Anyone that gives these kids a hard time will be running laps until they sweat blood and hate living.¡± Micah threatened, shuffling on his coat and donning his cap while trying to get to the door. ¡°I think I¡¯ll see if Josef can leave early. Give you some time to catch up.¡±

    Sheeva nodded in thanks and directed her full attention to the four still crowding around her.

    ¡°Micah said you were healing. What happened?¡± Yelena asked, looking up at her with a worried look. Sheeva took a deep breath, held it, and sighed, sitting cross-legged on the floor, wincing as her thigh stung. In her eagerness to see the children, get some fresh air, and stretch her legs, she feared she had pushed herself too far.

    She ushered Yelena into her lap, with a soft beckon followed by ¡°gently, please.¡± Yelena¡¯s growth-spurt became more apparent as Sheeva learned she could rest her chin on the top of the child¡¯s head. Sheeva chuckled at the fact, then felt her face terse in seriousness.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to wait until Josef is here to explain. Would that be alright?¡±

    They all nodded and settled, Nook on her left, Sophia on the right, and Arc in front of her. Sheeva took another deep breath, wondering where to begin. She retrieved a brush from the pouch at her side and started detangling Yelena¡¯s impossible¨Cless so, now that the child received proper care¨Ctangled mess.

    ¡°How have you been doing with your reading, Yelena?¡±

    Yelena turned in Sheeva¡¯s lap and beamed at her proudly.

    ¡°Really good! Micah¡¯s been helping me with big words.¡±

    ¡°Oh? Like what?¡±

    ¡°Mm¡­ masticate. Belligerent. Contemptuous. Pulchritudinous.¡±

    Sheeva¡¯s eyebrows raised in question. Those were undoubtedly big words for a six-year-old, and Sheeva wondered if they were just words Micah used to describe people, and Yelena simply overheard and absorbed them.

    ¡°I was not aware Micah could read,¡± Sheeva muttered.

    ¡°Gee, thanks. I don¡¯t spend all my time in the gym or the training fields.¡± Micah announced as he walked back in with Josef in tow. Sheeva looked up at the young man from her cross-legged spot on the floor, urged Yelena out of her lap, and stood to level with him. He was now as tall as she was and had filled out, no longer the scrawny kid that tried to spook her every chance he got. Hopefully, he no longer picked pockets, and she would not need to chide him for it. She took in his uniform, the grey chef coat clean behind a dirty black apron, a bright, shimmering nametag over the breast pocket, and a red bandana holding his dusty blonde hair back. She smiled at him, thankful he seemed to have an actual job compared to what Vincent told her he had been doing two months ago.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¨CHe began, cut off abruptly when Sheeva shook her head and pulled him into a comforting hug, assuring him that they would talk later.

    Micah slipped by them and sat down at his desk, trying to distance himself from their reunion. He handed a folder to Wedge and requested him to ¡°drop it off at storage, and have a good night.¡± Wedge took the hint and left, tipping his hat at Sheeva on his way out.

    Sheeva watched him leave, then turned back to Josef and straightened out some flyaway hair.

    ¡°I owe you all an apology. I could not leave my hiding place to care for you, so I asked Micah to take you all in. I hope you have been good for him and haven¡¯t given him too much trouble.¡± She said with a grateful smile.

    ¡°What happened to you, Sheeva? Where did you go?¡± Arc questioned. Sheeva frowned and dropped her hand, then crossed her arms as she thought of a way to put it delicately as to not disturb the youngest two in the room.

    ¡°I fought a man to protect some people, as well as all of you.¡± She answered, looking between the room¡¯s patrons, including Micah, which surprised him a little. ¡°He hurt me badly, and I¨C¡± She stopped herself, mindful of Yelena and Nook¡¯s innocent ears. ¡°I needed time to recover and heal.¡±

    The children swarmed her with hugs again, and she gave them a soft chuckle and loving pats on their heads.

    ¡°Is he going to come back?¡± Nook asked. Sheeva cupped his dark brown cheeks in her hands and stooped to his level, as the master of the temple would when bestowing her with excellent advice.

    ¡°If he comes back, though the outcome may be unfavorable, I would fight him again to keep you all safe.¡± She assured with a forced smile and a hug to hide the frightened glimmer in her eye at the mere thought of Zakaraia¡¯s return.

    Micah had to admit that he was impressed and amazed with her ability to behave warmly towards the children he fostered. It was a complete one-eighty compared to her treatment of other adults, and he told himself he would ask about it, given a chance, but not in front of the kids in the room. He diverted his attention to the papers on his desk.

    Sheeva listened, thankful and proud as they filled her in on their accomplishments since Micah took them in, surprised to hear that Micah refused to let the children go to the orphanage. She caught glances with him when Arc and Sophia admitted the fact, giving him a questioning look that could only mean that they were to talk this over at a later time.

    Yelena was already reading well beyond the other children her age. Nook was the best at hide-and-seek and enjoyed putting other soldiers in training to shame with his prowess on the obstacle course¨Cthe admittance of which earned another questioning look. Arc, Sophia, and Josef enjoyed their jobs in the kitchen. When Arc and Sophia were old enough, ¡°Chef Nelson¡± ensured she would train them to start with preparing raw fruits, vegetables and completing other simple tasks. Josef had made a name for himself but had not yet gained his ¡°rite of passage,¡± in which the head chef would threaten to cook or prepare him in some clever way and serve him to guests.

    The look of concern mixed with horrified amusement grew with each threat: their bones boiled in water to create a broth from their marrow, or their livers seared and roasted with sauteed onions and a butter-rosemary baste, or to be ¡°plucked, trussed, dressed, and roasted like a cluckatrice and served with their own eyeball jelly.¡±

    The best of the threats arose from a staff member pissing off the head chef so terribly, his brains were to be ¡°simmered in his ¡®already empty skull¡¯ and served on a plate with his genitalia sticking out of his ear for garnish because they would be ¡®too small and unfit for eating.¡¯¡± Sheeva tsked in disapproval but secretly filed away the insults for later should the occasion arise, feigning disgust at the idea of cooking the kitchen staff.

    By the time the kids wound down, it was well after ten, and when Josef ushered them to the spare shed that Micah turned into living quarters for the lot of them, Sheeva walked with them, eager to make sure the place was fit.

    ¡°Micah doesn¡¯t want me to tell you this, but he wanted to make sure we were better off than some ¡®sketchy orphanage.¡¯ It¡¯s not much, and we¡¯re constantly adding to it. Still, it¡¯s working much better than the house we used to squat in,¡± Josef explained.

    Sheeva nodded as she looked around the place. It was larger than she expected when she first heard the term ¡°shed,¡± reminding her more of a cabin for one out in a backwoods area. Still, the inside was warm, dry, and could accommodate the five of them.

    She stood by the door as she watched how Josef made sure the others brushed their teeth and hair, further pleased with his assumption of responsibility as he tucked them into their sleeping bags laid out on cots. Yelena cradled a purple sea-creature under her arm, out in minutes.

    Noticing an extra cot fit for an adult, she pointed it out. Josef looked and gave a sheepish smile.

    ¡°Micah crashes here most nights. He really cares about us, I think.¡± He paused to tuck in Nook. ¡°Either that, or he¡¯s scared shitless of you.¡±

    ¡°I do not suppose I can tell you to watch your language, Josef?¡± She chided with a small smile. Josef shrugged it off; he heard worse in the kitchens, particularly with a last-minute, ridiculous change to an order, because such frustrations could not be more beautifully put than ¡°What kind of hork-swill chugging bastard wants medium-rare cluckatrice? Vilgek eteud!¡±

    Arc and Sophia bid their goodnights to Sheeva with one last hug and crawled into their respective cots. Josef paused to brush his own teeth, picking at a finicky bit of food hiding between two of them. He turned back to Sheeva and motioned for them to stand outside to talk without waking the others.

    ¡°So. You have really taken to caring for the younger kids. I am pleased.¡± Sheeva began, crossing her arms, leaning against the stone shed¡¯s wall, and staring up at the stars. The moons had risen well above the horizon, beginning to become shrouded by dark rain clouds. She chuckled to herself, imagining Tazaro going nuts with no Stargazer to examine the skies through before they were covered.

    Even if he managed to find the machine tucked away beneath Burke¡¯s thick bushel of leaves, there would be no way for him to use the shrunken thing. Besides, he was supposed to be visiting Tyler tonight, anyway.

    ¡°Of course. They¡¯re my family. Not by blood, but, uh...¡± He smiled at himself. ¡°I made the cheese rolls you showed us for Chef. She wanted a dozen to take home to her family. That¡¯s a hell of an accomplishment, you know.¡± He redirected, grinning from ear to ear. Sheeva smirked. It seemed the recipe was a winner wherever it was presented.

    She looked over as the pop and sizzle of a match sounded out, and her mouth dropped open as Josef drew in the flame over a chunk of something in a pipe and puffed. She frowned and held her tongue but gave him a stern look anyway, hoping it was not tobacco turning cherry-red in his pipe. As the smell of it wafted to her nose, she calmed, finding it was only Cannabis. If the master of Malfa Temple could smoke the stuff and live to be...however old he was, then Sheeva figured it would be fine for Josef.

    She waved her hand when he offered it to her.

    As she recalled the specifics of how he had tried to care for them on his own and how she had begged Micah for his help, her lips pursed, and she gave him a stern look, unable to fight her disappointment in his choices. Josef¡¯s calm faded, and he dropped his head in shame, a billow of smoke flowing from his heavy sigh. His shoulders slouched.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, ma¡¯am. You were gone for so long, and I, well, I¨C

    ¨CYou can call me Sheeva, you know.¡±

    She shook her head at herself, intending to get to the point before they were interrupted.

    ¡°Do not be sorry, Josef. You did what you felt you had to. While I am not fond of your choices, I understand why you did it. I am at least proud of that. Now¡­¡± She gave a pause so that he could digest her words and understand her sincerity. ¡°That is all in the past, right?¡± She asked. Slowly, Josef nodded, sniffling and wiping at his eyes.

    ¡°Good. Forgive yourself, Josef. I forgave you long ago, though I wasn¡¯t able to tell you.¡± She assured. Josef took a moment to appreciate her stance, nibbling on the button of the pipe with his lips. He chuckled at something and struck another match to relight his bud. He shook it out and flicked the snuffed stick into a nearby pot.

    ¡°Micah told me you said something like that, but I thought it was just his guesswork.¡± Josef¡¯s demeanor changed again, growing tense with serious thought. ¡°He wouldn¡¯t tell me how bad it really was¨Cyour injury. Just that it was ¡®bad.¡¯ Yelena and Nook could accept that. They¡¯re young. But Arc, Sophia, and I had a hard time believing it. So, really¨Cwhat happened?¡±

    Sheeva sighed, dropped her arms, and pushed herself off the wall.

    ¡°Even after my bones were broken, I fought a man to give some people a fleeting chance. In the end, it did not matter. Tazaro and I will be leaving soon to train and pursue him. Whether for vengeance or closure, I am still unsure.¡± She stated bluntly, relieved that she did not have to sugarcoat it around Josef. It helped the words to roll off her tongue and make them real. The more real they were, the more her resolve strengthened itself.

    Josef took another long drag of his pipe, held his breath, and sighed, tapping the ashes out onto the ground with the heel of his shoe.

    ¡°Okay.¡± He decided. ¡°I hope you find what you¡¯re looking for, Sheeva.¡± He stated earnestly. Sheeva looked up at him, further impressed with his newfound maturity.

    She was even more thankful that he hadn¡¯t tried to talk her out of it.

    ¡°Thank you, Josef. Take care of yourself.¡± She insisted. He snickered to alleviate the nerves at her demand and shoveled the pipe deep into his pocket.

    ¡°Might be a little old for this, but, uh, can I have a hug?¡± Josef asked, motioning for one. Sheeva nodded and stepped forward to fulfill his request. He held her tightly and gave her an exaggerated squeeze in gratitude.

    ¡°Thank you for loving us, Sheeva. You saved our lives.¡±

    Hearing this filled Sheeva¡¯s soul with immeasurable and uncontainable joy. With a broad, thankful smile, Sheeva returned his hug, eager to memorize the serenity she felt in case she would need it.

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Josef. I¡¯m glad you and the others are doing better than you were and am glad that you can all accept me as I am.¡± She choked, highly pleased with herself.

    Before she could lose her composure, Sheeva urged him toward the door to the meager shed and muttered a caring: ¡°off to bed with you.¡±

    Josef turned back to look at her and waved before sliding the door shut.

    Immediately, Sheeva turned around to face the empty compound and dabbed at her eyes as she made her way back to Micah¡¯s office, determined to share a few grateful words. The awning shielded the moon¡¯s lights from the compound¡¯s walkways, giving Sheeva a nostalgic longing for the stone hallways in the temple courtyard.

    ¡°They¡¯ve really missed you, you know.¡± A voice called out to her in the darkness as Sheeva stepped underneath the canopy to the barracks. She jumped, startled, and instinctively reached for Abraxas but settled as Micah¡¯s shape poked through the darkness.

    Micah chuckled a little bit to himself, not expecting to catch her so off-guard. Perhaps she let her guard down around the kids, intent on being so shockingly motherly.

    ¡°You should know better than to spook me. Especially in the darkness.¡± She scolded, not dignifying his comment with an answer. Micah laughed harder and crossed his arms as he stepped further into the light given off by an old stub of a torch. The firelight glimmered off his Captain¡¯s bars, and he held an umbrella beneath his arm.

    ¡°Ha, maybe you make it too easy, Warrior-girl.¡± He grinned, revealing pearly whites behind curled lips. She huffed at the nickname a little less firmly than she used to, hoping he did not pick up on the softened reaction. She watched his blue, grey-speckled eyes look behind her at the stone shed and turned to view it in the distance, too. It would be her last opportunity to see them for a while.

    ¡°Thank you for not disclosing the true nature of my injuries to the others. I fear it would have only terrified them.¡± She began, fidgeting with the drake¡¯s teeth braided into the handle with frayed, black-leather strips.

    Micah hummed in response and gave a slight nod. The kids had already grown up on the streets¨Cwho knew what other horrors they had witnessed?

    ¡°They¡¯re sturdier than other kids their ages, but I think that¡¯s thanks to their upbringing.¡±

    ¡°Hm. Have you talked to Tazaro yet?¡± She asked, veering the subject off of the children.

    Micah shook his head in response. Tazaro had asked to reach out to Tyler first, which was understandable since the man was practically his father. He and Vincent could not hog the nerdy boy to themselves all the time.

    ¡°He¡¯s visiting Tyler.¡± Micah voiced, walking past her and toward a bench on the edge of the compound. He sat, hiked a foot upon his knee, and leaned back. His broad stature took up half of the bench, and she watched the starched shoulders of his jacket bounce and shift as Micah retrieved a flask from his inner pocket, unscrewed the cap, and took a swig of whatever was inside. He turned and offered it to her with an outstretched arm.

    Sheeva hesitated briefly for a second, then internally tutted at herself. She accepted his offer, finding the flask was lighter than she expected it to be. She sat next to him, held the spout to her lips, and tilted it back for a sip. Whatever alcohol inside was sweeter than she expected and easier to stomach, not offering such a sting on the tip of her tongue.

    ¡°Hm. Thank you.¡± She returned it to him, and he held it loosely between his fingers, elbows propped on the back of the bench as he turned his gaze back to the stone shed. They watched the lamp inside the window snuff out as Josef blew it out to retire for the night.

    Clicks of boots echoed along the cobblestone hallway as some soldiers exited the showers, fluffy white towels tucked under their arms. Micah looked over his shoulder at the noise and called after them: ¡°Oi! Caps!¡±

    Sheeva looked in their direction and watched them scramble to don their caps, straightening them as well as they could manage without a mirror.

    ¡°Newbies. They¡¯ll learn.¡± Micah commented when they were out of earshot, and Sheeva noted a slight smile on the corner of his face. If she did not know better, he was fond of teaching people.

    Micah inhaled the crisp night air deeply through his nose, then lifted his flask, looked at it, and took another sip. The adam¡¯s apple on his shaven neck bobbed with the action, and he made a scrunched face at the burn. Micah shuddered and offered the flask to Sheeva again, who took and sipped. He gave an exaggerated ¡°argh¡± of a sigh, motioning back towards the stone shed.

    ¡°They¡¯re strong kids. Think I can see why you took to them so well. Mebbie, they remind you of you when you were younger. They certainly remind me of me when I was younger.¡± He began, a serious look on his face. He uttered a light ¡°tch¡± and shook his head at himself, but his overall demeanor eased as he sunk into the bench.

    ¡°Yelena fuckin¡¯ loves to read¨Cand write. I can¡¯t supply her with books or paper fast enough. The kid would probably read a boring-ass battlefield manual if I gave her one.¡± He paused, blinking at a thought. ¡°She might be a good decoder or interpreter someday.¡± He smiled and shook his head. They might take the time to figure that out later.

    ¡°Nook watches out for her on the playground, even takes on kids twice his size. Moves and strikes like a snake. He¡¯d be a right-proper assassin someday¨Cbut I won¡¯t train him in that.¡± Micah assured Sheeva, pointing and shaking a finger at the fact for emphasis. She nodded slowly, hands folded politely in her lap while she listened to his findings.

    ¡°I had the same idea. Nook could definitely excel that way.¡± Sheeva agreed, copying his stance, happy to be able to dangle her elbows across the back of whatever she sat and leaned on. She fought the wince on her face at the pinch that still presented itself in her thigh whenever she attempted to cross the left leg over her right and subtly switched the two.

    ¡°Arc and Sophia like what they¡¯re doing now. Arc likes chess and strategy games like I did. Sophia likes building stuff and figuring out how things work, much like Tazaro did growing up. Josef...is kind of the odd-ball. If he¡¯s not cooking, he¡¯s training with a sword with his new friend Zarkas in his spare time, against my advice. I, uh, figured you wouldn¡¯t appreciate it, or something.¡± He admitted, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye to gauge her reaction. When she gave a contemplative ¡°hm,¡± it threw him off, and he turned to look at her.

    ¡°No. I want you to train them. I believe everyone should know how to defend themselves and others. But¡­¡± Sheeva paused to gather her thoughts and sighed, feeling the sadness break on her face. ¡°If becoming soldiers were to be their passion, I would ask you to object.¡± She requested.

    ¡°Pfft! They still might do it anyway. Who are we to stop them?¡± She pointed out, silently appreciating his attempt to steer them in a particular direction. Her eyes drooped, and her face warmed as the effects of alcohol swayed in.

    ¡°Oh. Huh. Sorry. I, I thought I was doing what you would want.¡± Micah muttered, fighting the sheepish smile on his face. It broke, and he covered it by stroking his chin and tsking at himself.

    ¡°Don¡¯t assume so. You never asked. No matter; I appreciate the attempt.¡±

    Her curt response made him bark out a nervous laugh, and he took another drink, a little heavier this time. He sucked in a breath as the stuff really burned.

    ¡°They¡¯ve been, uh, good for me. Hope you know that. Want you to know that.¡±

    Sheeva took the flask as he offered it to her once more, taking a deeper drink than she had previously. She handed it back to him and looked up to the sky, the moons hanging halfway overhead. Her eyes closed, and she felt herself melt into the bench, swimming in lax.

    ¡°That so?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Generally, I¡¯d be in a bar, flirting with a barmaid. But since I took them in...realized I had some growin¡¯ up to do. It¡¯s been a helluva challenge, but I think I¡¯m doing alright. So...¡± He felt his voice quaver with gratitude and held his breath to stabilize himself. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Micah.¡±

    Sheeva and Micah listened to the clinking of chains as they waved in the night. The ruffling whip of the yellow and green flag strung up on the pole further drove the security point the kids would grow up with. In yet another way, the barracks reminded her of home, and she smiled at the fact.

    ¡°Take care of Tazaro, willya? He can be thick-headed sometimes, but that¡¯s just because he¡¯s shy and stubborn.¡± Micah requested. She noted a gloomy tone in his usually jovial voice. Sheeva tore her gaze away from the entertaining obstacle course Nook must have enjoyed crushing others on and looked at Micah as he sat forward, propping his elbows on his knees to stare at his feet. She blinked as she remembered Tazaro would be saying his goodbyes to the people and places he grew up with and nodded to herself as she reminded herself to be compassionate.

    ¡°Ah. That¡¯s right. You all grew up together, didn¡¯t you?¡±

    Micah snorted and chuckled, torso shaking from the act. He waved his hand at something and grinned at her.

    ¡°Feh! Only because Vincent and I wouldn¡¯t let Tazaro spend all of his time by himself after what happened to his sister and his dad. Eventually, we grew on him.¡± He took another swig from his flask and traded it back to her. ¡°You know, we all ended up in jail once. Once. Mildred was...displeased, to say the least. We got caught throwing cluckatrice through people¡¯s open windows.¡±

    Sheeva smirked, recalling a few of her own pranks and how Cassie and Kyle pestered her to crawl out of her fortress following Rose¡¯s death.

    ¡°Sounds familiar, though I never ended up in jail. Just walking the temple¡¯s grand staircase. Five hundred and forty steps. One for every damn day of the year.¡±

    She tipped the flask in a toast to memory and took another swig.

    ¡°Tazaro is lucky to have friends like you.¡± She encouraged.

    ¡°Yeah? So are you, you know¨Cto have friends like us.¡±

    Sheeva¡¯s shocked smile turned genuine, and she nodded in acceptance.

    ¡°Thank you, Micah.¡±

    She watched a lone archer with red hair practice in the dim light, impressed with his skill as he struck a mannequin from afar with a precise shot.

    ¡°Tazaro is, uh...¡± Sheeva looked at Micah when he spoke up, then waited Micah¡¯s silence out as the burly man tapped his chin in thought. ¡°You¡¯re probably the only person in the world right now that honestly understands what he is going through right now. With the¨C¡± He stopped, looked around, and tucked his head. ¡°With the wings, and magic, and all that.¡±

    ¡°Please don¡¯t...betray or abandon him, basically, is what I¡¯m asking.¡± Micah pleaded. Sheeva nodded her promise.

    ¡°I do not plan to. I shall bother him to the fog and back.¡± She muttered with an encouraging smile.

    ¡°Good! Bug the fuck outta him for me!¡± He barked with a cheeky grin.

    They finished the liquid in the flask, and as Sheeva took her time meandering back to Tazaro¡¯s apartment, she grinned, wholeheartedly confident and believing that everyone would be well in their absence.

 Chapter 24: Homeward Bound

    Chapter 24¨CHomeward Bound

    After realizing they could simply change their appearance at will and walk past the guards without trouble, Sheeva, Tazaro, Tyler, and Vincent stood at the Eastern Gates. The well-kept gates and cobblestone road were a stark contrast from the rusty, squeaking metal of the Western Gates and the dusty, dirt road of the Southern Gates.

    The homes and shops along the way were well-lit and cared for, their limestone bricks seeming to glisten like diamonds caught in fabulous light. Sheeva was thankful she had never encountered much trouble here during her search for Llyud but frowned as she recalled how turned-up their noses could be at her outlandish appearance. She would have preferred skeptic or bewildered looks over sneers of superiority, and it was no wonder Vincent and Tazaro never moved to the Eastern Quarters, with a community entirely different from their welcoming personalities.

    Tyler reached around his shoulder to retrieve a sword in a green, leatherbound scabbard and handed it tenderly to Tazaro, smiling in fondness at it. He helped Tazaro strap it across his chest and grunted in approval¨Csurely, the ladies would be all over the handsome appearance.

    ¡°That was mine when I was yer age. I was just starting out as a footsoldier. It should serve yeh well. But, uh, don¡¯t go swinging it around until yeh¡¯ve learned to handle one, huh? No need to chop off yer head.¡± He warned with a smirk. He pulled Tazaro into a crushing hug, ruffling his hair, fighting the urge to tsk at it in distaste, always preferring to keep his own hair short-cut. It was currently platinum silver, for shits and giggles. He held Tazaro out at arm¡¯s length, wanting to look him in the eye as he imparted more words of wisdom, then curled his lip and made a face. As bright teal eyes looked back at him, Tyler shook his head.

    ¡°Geeze, I forget that¡¯s still Tazaro under all that. Yeh couldn¡¯t¡¯ve gone with black hair and amber eyes or somethin¡¯?¡± Tyler mumbled. Tazaro shrugged, a mildly apologetic face shining through.

    ¡°So long as people don¡¯t recognize me, whatever¡¯s fine.¡±

    He would not admit it, but learning what he could and could not do with his looks had become a great source of amusement. Even Sheeva seemed to appreciate his shenanigans as he successfully weirded out Vincent by donning a lab coat and copying the doctor''s looks down to the scar barely noticeable in Vincent¡¯s hairline from a head-cracking accident when they were preteens. He even went as far as to sit in Vincent''s favorite chair and pretend to read the science-fiction novel on the side table.

    Sheeva stood off to the side with Vincent, waiting as patiently as she could, eager to get their traveling underway. They had already spent three days longer than initially intended to say their goodbyes to everyone, though well worth it. Still, she had never reserved or entertained such hesitance in previous towns and cities, always searching and driving herself to death in pursuit. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard everyone else say it, so I¡¯ll spare you...all of it, but be safe out there, and write, if you can?¡± Vincent asked though he doubted somewhere so secluded that it did not even show on a map had a mailing system.

    Sheeva felt her impatience lessen, and she slowly nodded to him to show she heard, thinking to herself about how they would possibly mail a letter. She brushed the idea off, deciding she would look into it later when they had arrived. Maybe, in her absence, the temple had opened up to ¡°outsiders¡± and set up such a system. She huffed; it was unlikely.

    ¡°It is only a week¡¯s travel,¡± She silenced and glanced over her shoulder at the guards standing at the base of the gates. They were far enough away, but she lowered her voice anyway. ¡°By foot. If we were to fly, it might only take a couple of days. I am sure that we could come back to visit. But that would be a while out. We have a lot of work to do.¡± She half-promised. It would take Tazaro¡¯s wings a good couple of months to build their strength, and depending on how well he took to his training, a couple of months to get the basics of flight. Sheeva had never trained someone before, so she anticipated an even longer process.

    ¡°That would be nice. Just, uh, don¡¯t forget to take some time to yourself, too.¡± Vincent suggested. Sheeva allowed a slight smile.

    ¡°I will. With the protective veil surrounding the mountain, we will be safe enough there that I will be able to. It will be nice to see the greenhouse again, as well.¡± She assured.

    ¡°A veil? More of your temple¡¯s magic, I assume?¡± Vincent asked, hoping that it was actually some form of Tarrakkian technology that she could pass out to other towns. He mentally corrected himself; if there was such technology, it might have already been put into effect in most places.

    ¡°I...I do not know. It was there when I arrived, and I assumed that it had always been there. I do know that the leader of the temple has a similar power. He banished Llyud with a spell that sent him rolling down the front steps.¡± She mused briefly, not wanting to imagine what might happen if the veil broke while they were under attack.

    She followed the dirt road with her eyes as it cut through plains and between fields to eventually disappear into the treeline of the dense forest, slowly illuminated by the morning sun into a blend of light green oaks and dark green firs. Half-moon Kursu had already disappeared beyond the horizon, whereas Celeste hovered above the crest of mountaintops, a thin sliver of a croissant-shaped golden moon. Her lips curled slightly as she thought the artist she''d donated to might like to paint a reflection of such a view.

    Sheeva looked back at Tyler and Tazaro, who were still talking to each other, Tyler with a tired expression, since he had woken up much earlier than usual to see them off. She sympathized with his exhaustion, waking well before the crack of dawn to make sure, for the third time, that all their supplies were together, organizing, packing, and shrinking things down to cram into their backpacks.

    She had not wasted space on meat, figuring she would pick off a couple of critters that dwelled in the denser part of the forest, untouched and infringed from Sferran¡¯s presence. They were generally larger and would feed them well. Plus, with summer well in progress, any offspring they had would be able to fend for themselves, and she would feel less remorseful if she accidentally claimed a mother¡¯s life.

    ¡°Such a serious face. Second thoughts?¡± Bartholomew cackled, causing Sheeva to look up and Tazaro to look over in the direction. Bartholomew rose from the ground halfway between the two, arms crossed and tail curled around his feet. Sheeva and Tazaro fought to keep straight faces, and Sheeva forced an excuse.

    ¡°It will be sweltering hot soon. We should hurry. The shade of the forest will help keep us cool.¡± She suggested.

    ¡°I can help keep you guys cool.¡± Bartholomew cackled with a sly grin. Sheeva bit her tongue and pursed her lips, then turned her back sharply and crossed her arms as she felt the scowl break on her face. Don¡¯t you dare! She pleaded.

    Sheeva tensed, swallowing back the shocked whimper in her throat, and fought to stay standing as she felt a piercing chill span through her chest. She watched as Bartholomew¡¯s apparition flowed past, giggling with childish glee as he waved at her with a claw. She forced a few wobbly steps forward as she attempted to keep from buckling to the ground.

    ¡°Uh, Vincent, could you come here for a second? Wanted to say something.¡± Tazaro called out. As soon as Vincent left Sheeva¡¯s side, she crumbled and took a knee, clutching her thin shirt to her chest to warm herself and letting out a shaky breath as she shivered fiercely, meanwhile glaring daggers at Bartholomew¡¯s back.

    Tazaro flashed an apologetic look even though Sheeva¡¯s back was turned to them.

    ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Vincent asked.

    ¡°Um¡­¡± Tazaro paused, searching for an excuse. He feigned a tired look and rubbed at his eyes, cracking a smile as he blurted the first thing that came to mind. ¡°Take care of yourself.¡±

    When he noticed Sheeva regained her composure, Tazaro relaxed, relieved for her sake.

    ¡°Of course. Always do.¡± Vincent grinned. ¡°Make sure she is careful. I didn¡¯t stitch her up just to have you both be mauled by a bearog or something.¡±

    They watched as Sheeva drew Abraxas and looked at it, a furious scowl on her face. Vincent decided she was impatient, though he supposed he could understand, considering she did not stay in a place for long and had admitted to staying in Roussell far longer than she meant to. Tazaro had a feeling she was wondering if she could stab Bartholomew, and as she looked in Bartholomew¡¯s direction, he nodded to himself. Maybe, they would need a blade of silver or some other supernatural solution, assuming it would even work in the first place.

    Tazaro took a sharp breath and cleared his throat.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯m going.¡± He announced, forcing his feet to move away before they loitered any longer. He scowled to mask the bittersweet sadness and blinked away the tiny tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes.

    When he was far enough into the fields and confident they would not notice, he stopped and turned to wave at them. The smaller visage of Vincent and the bulkier blob of Tyler waved back and turned away to head towards their homes. Tazaro hurried to catch up to Sheeva, who had already begun to walk on.

    Feeling they were far enough away from the gates, he dispelled his disguise and shook at the tingling effect in the roots of his hair as it wore off.

    ¡°You good? I wanted to warn you, but I couldn¡¯t think of anything subtle fast enough, so I decided to distract Vincent instead.¡± He asked, giving her another apologetic look that she could actually see. She snarled and shook her head.

    ¡°No. I am going to kill Bartholomew.¡± She grumbled, picking up her pace in frustration as she mulled it over in her head. Calming herself with a sigh, she slowed and slouched her shoulders in defeat.

    ¡°Suppose I won¡¯t kill him, but still, we might need to come up with something if he tries to pull that stunt again.¡± She suggested. Tazaro nodded in agreement, staring at a growing cornstalk as he thought about what they could do. As he looked at a scarecrow in the middle of the field, he grimaced at the ugly thing. Forget crows. The Sferran-sized ragdoll could scare people.

    At the base of the treeline, Sheeva paused and turned back to look at Roussell from a distance, shielding her eyes from the rising sun. The clocktower pierced the sky amid the mass of houses, and from this vantage point, Sheeva finally realized Roussell lay in the middle of a bowl-shaped crater, surrounded by mountains on all sides. Interesting, considering the temple rested at the beginning of a pass. She briefly wondered if the landscape had been formed from the impact of something crashing down from the skies and turned to ask Tazaro if he knew anything about it but stopped at the crestfallen look on his face.

    She closed her mouth, nodded in understanding, and took a seat on a nearby boulder to wait it out.

    ¡°Take your time. It will be a while until we can return. Perhaps once you¡¯ve gotten the hang of flying and have some skill with a weapon or your fists under your belt, we can make the journey back for a couple of days.¡± She assured him with a small smile.

    Tazaro stuck his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath, calmed by fond memories. Micah, Vincent, Perron, and him sneaking out and wandering around the streets until the wee hours of the morning when he was thirteen, although his mother certainly knew what he was up to. Being so nervous about kissing his crush during a game of truth or dare that he missed and kissed her cheek instead. Betting on ridiculous things and playing escalating jokes that only once reached breaking the law. Pacing around with unbridled joy in his mother¡¯s living room upon receiving his acceptance letter to Raynak¡¯s prestigious college.

    His smile grew into a grin at the more recent memories, self-conscious about how silly he must have looked while waving his arms in excitement from the Stargazer¡¯s success and the awkward kiss that followed. How fulfilling it had been to comfort Sheeva with a tender, sweet kiss before being so rudely interrupted by fireworks. How nice it was to sit around a table and enjoy a meal with family again, like they used to, and even though his mother was no longer there, it felt like she was among them in spirit. Tyler even began ¡°high-point, low-point,¡± where they discussed what rocked about the day versus what sucked about the day.

    He felt the frown in the corners of his mouth and sighed, wiping at the tears falling down his cheeks as he realized how much he would miss that.

    ¡°Hey, do you think¨CHe began, then cleared the knot from his throat. ¡°Could we keep doing a, uh, makeshift family dinner? I know it wouldn¡¯t be the same, it¡¯d be just us, but, uh¡­¡± He trailed off, reluctant to admit how much he would miss it and feeling suddenly far too vulnerable for comfort. Sheeva offered him a warm smile and solidified her ¡°yes¡± with a head nod.

    ¡°We all eat together at the temple anyway. Not all of us are antisocial outcasts.¡±

    He beamed at her, spirits lifted, then turned back to take one last look.

    ¡°I wish I could paint pictures. Decorating furniture with etching and carving is one thing, but painting? You¡¯d think it would be easy, considering it¡¯s just a different tool, but, nah¨CI suck at it. Shame, I like this view.¡± He rambled, aware that it was just a coping method for his addled brain as he fought to compile the mess of bittersweet, angst, and homesickness Tazaro felt for the place he was leaving.

    He snickered and waved his hand at the thought that maybe he could create something that would make an instant painting, then turned away and picked up his bag to sling it back over his shoulder.

    ¡°Alright. Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Slowly, they made their way, Tazaro listening eagerly to Sheeva as she explained the expansive layout of the Malfa Temple they were heading toward, occasionally pausing to point out a particular plant or animal. She had even managed to find a berry bush they picked from to add a sweet treat to the lunches she had made for them.

    As midday faded into dusk and gave way to the darkness of night, the midsummer night air almost broke through their coats. The light from the moons was blocked by thick, verdant tree branches as Sheeva led them further into the enclosing, dense forest. Tazaro¡¯s orb of light shimmered a pale green, and Sheeva¡¯s, a light yellow as they used them to light their way instead.

    Sheeva listened to the Tinker Owls hooting at each other, not feeling the need to keep her hand on Abraxas.

    ¡°Listen. The forest is safe.¡± She pointed out, looking up toward the canopy of the trees.

    ¡°How can you tell?¡± He asked. She glanced at him, then turned to look back at the trees, hoping to find an owl. She found a white-chested one, peering down at them with a cold stare in its bulbous, stern, golden eyes.

    ¡°Creatures are calling to each other. Aside from us, nothing is disturbing them. Dim your light; let¡¯s not disturb them further.¡± She insisted, beckoning her light to her palm and closing her fingers. The light grew small, and she directed it to circle around her feet, showing the decay on the forest floor.

    He followed her example, twisting his hand to turn it a soft golden color against the green of leaves and grass. Tazaro moved his foot at the last minute as he realized he was about to step on a wide-capped mushroom that blended amid the green hue of his light and ended up snapping a branch underneath his boot. He looked up, overhearing the alarmed squawks of the owls up above along with a softly muttered: ¡°ah, vilg.¡±

    Sheeva stopped, sighed, then looked back at him, a slight scowl on her face. It softened as she sighed again and rested her hand on her sword.

    ¡°Watch your step. Tread lightly. The owls will resume when they calm down.¡± She murmured.

    She bared her wings and told Tazaro to do the same, explaining that he would need to acclimate himself to balancing with more limbs, even though she had him walking around the apartment with his wings bared.

    Trying to keep a good posture, he had difficulty stepping over rocks and branches as the unstable ground and the additional weight threw him around. It was nothing like walking back and forth down the hallway of his home.

    ¡°This feels weird.¡± He admitted, trying to jump over a ditch. He stumbled forward as his feet met the ground and fell to his knees.

    ¡°How the hell do you get used to this?¡± He asked, getting a little frustrated as he picked himself up and carried on.

    ¡°Practice. Like I have told you, these are new limbs, new ligaments. You will need time to adjust.¡± She reminded him, turning away and continuing down the path. He stood and brushed off his hands onto his pants and tried to keep up with her.

    ¡°Could you slow down?¡± He asked. She stopped and nodded, slowing her pace. She decided to work on her wing stretches while they made their way, reminding herself that she needed to strengthen them after injury. Extending her left wing as far out as she could, she held it for a few seconds, then raised it, lowered it, and began to rotate it, as a person would do with their arms. She did the same with her right, then brought it forward, reaching the tips as far as they would go, copied the action with her left, then angled them both back and stretched them.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe you can do all that while walking,¡± Tazaro said in awe. She clicked her tongue at him.

    ¡°I first bared my wings when I was thirteen. I have had years of practice. You must exercise patience with yourself because it is not something that happens overnight.¡± She reminded him, thinking he was insulting himself about it.

    ¡°I wasn¡¯t upset. I¡¯m just...I think it¡¯s cool.¡± He corrected her.

    She gave a ¡°hmm,¡± and kept going.

    They did not say anything for a while, only stopping after Sheeva yawned for the third time. She looked up at the sky, then took out her watch. It was nearing midnight.

    ¡°I will find us a clearing, and then we will stop for the day. I am tired.¡± She announced.

    ¡°Something particular about clearings?¡± He asked. She shook her head and smirked at him.

    ¡°Cannot see the sky through a canopy of trees, can you?¡±

    ¡°Ah, no, guess not. Um, thank you.¡± He said, slightly sheepish, slightly surprised. She waved it off, something she picked up from Vincent. He would do it when he heard something and did not feel like responding but wanted to notify that all was well.

    After a while, they reached a small clearing, and Sheeva stopped, retracted her wings, and slung her bag off her shoulders. She grabbed her sleeping bag and rolled it out, then took out the Stargazer from a protective container they put it in and expanded it for Tazaro, figuring he was not tired yet. Also, it was a new area for him to explore. She wondered if it would show different clusters of stars and decided to ask him in the morning.

    "Correct me if I am wrong, but one of the constellations on the horizon appears to be a bow with an arrow. It matches one of those sigils we saw on those banners in that clearing with the altar. Did that clearing have something to do with your gods?" Sheeva asked, startling Tazaro a little, having taken her for being sound asleep by the time he''d finished settling down with a sketchbook and orb of light.

    "My gods?¡± Tazaro scoffed, turning up his nose. ¡°As if I¡¯d consider them mine. As far as I care, they can go suck an egg.¡± He considered pointing out that Sheeva had been the one to primarily suggest that they truly existed, thanks to her¨Cand his¨Cstate of existence, but knowing that she would only counter with that tidbit, he decided against it.

    She gave a soft ¡°hm,¡± signaling that she had more to say, but as he began to imagine what it might be, he felt he¡¯d painted a target on his back.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    ¡°I feel I do not understand anything about these gods¨Ctheir sigils, and what they stand for, and why they hold so much power over you. I¡¯d at least like for you to explain them to me.¡± She asked.

    ¡°What? They don¡¯t hold power over¨C

    He stopped as she directed an icy glare at him, lips pursed in disapproval.

    ¡°They don¡¯t, do they? Tazaro, you still blame them for...what? Not intervening? Not, ah, ¡®trifling in our petty matters?¡± She argued, then sighed. ¡°Still, I...I don¡¯t know anything about them, and I¡¯d rather it be you to explain them to me than some pigheaded priest who belittles me for what I do not know.¡±

    Tazaro¡¯s eyebrows raised, impressed, and he couldn¡¯t blame her for asking after that.

    ¡°Alright. Sure. Come here, and I¡¯ll show you.¡± He relented, and with a heavy sigh, grabbed his grid-line sketchbook.

    She crawled out of her sleeping bag, stood, and headed to where he sat, pausing to grab her blanket. As she sat down at his side beneath the base of the tree he¡¯d leaned himself against, she draped the blanket over the both of them.

    "Alright. Normally, the twelve gods are arranged in a circle, with the god-king, Hyles, set up towards the north, with his wife Hyperia, Goddess of Fertility, to his right, and Abraxas at his left.¡± He began, labeling the squares he traced with respective numbers, one through three, with a roughly sketched crown, a bow with arrows, and a broken spear.

    "Then, you have Valrigard the Warrior-God, Lucassen the Entertainer, Alkurik the Farmer, and Vokken the Wise to the left." He continued as he numbered them as five, seven, nine, and eleven.

    He paused after sketching their symbols and hoped she would forgive his poor description of a stick-figure broadsword, something that resembled a lute, a wimpy flower, and a scroll with a cup for the other gods in the court''s idols, too bitter to put much detail into the works.

    "To the right, the goddesses: Alena the Healer, Fidelia the Just, Zira the Familial, Tovah, goddess of the skies, and Giovina, goddess of the waters."

    Numbers four, six, eight, ten, and twelve followed in a clockwise circle, and he attempted to make the designs a little nicer, self-conscious about his previously half-assed, horrid scribbles. Alena¡¯s spiral of stars still ended up being a swirl of asterisks, Tovah¡¯s thunderbolt was a sore scar on the page, and Zira¡¯s trilithon seemed like something unstable that would likely topple over in real life, but at least Fidelia¡¯s scales were decent. He caught himself doodling designs on Giovina¡¯s two koi swimming ad infinitum to nip at each other¡¯s tails, collected himself, and put his pencil down.

    ¡°That clearing that we stopped in was arranged differently, and whether it was for ¡®artistic vision¡¯ or to make a statement, I¡¯m not sure, but whoever built it had the gods facing their significant other,¡± Tazaro explained. A wave of inspiration flowed over him as he thought that, perhaps, the grounds had been situated for some type of marriage ritual or something¨Cmaybe, for a couple otherwise turned away by the priests.

    Or maybe they wanted to keep it a secret for some other, darker reason.

    He shook his head, realizing he¡¯d left Sheeva on hold, cleared his throat, and brought her attention back to his sheet of paper.

    He flipped it over, drew a line down the middle of the page, and scribbled down three names.

    ¡°In the beginning, the cosmos conceived three brothers: Abraxas the ravager, Hyles the strategist, and Vokken the equalizer. Hyles was given the gift of creating order and making sense of the cosmos, Abraxas was to reign in the disorder and chaos left behind in structure¡¯s wake, and Vokken was to ensure the two could reconcile with one another as they began to give structure and order to the universe.¡±

    On the other side of the line, Tazaro scribbled down three more names.

    ¡°Once enough order and chaos had been reigned in to form the stars, moons, suns, and planets, the cosmos gave birth to three sisters: Giovina the synergist, goddess of the waters; Hyperia, the sentinel, the goddess of the earth¨Cand later, goddess of the hunt¨Cand Tovah, the saboteur, goddess of the winds. The three sisters worked together to further stablize a planet, and though it held a single mass amid a vast sea and rich airs, was as balanced a planet as it could be¨Cand better yet, appeared to be able to sustain life,¡± He continued.

    He sketched out a planet with a single chunk of land amid squiggly lines for air and shoddy-drawn waves surrounding the mass, and beneath the doodled planet, wrote the planet¡¯s name, ¡°Sferra.¡±

    ¡°So moved by the sister¡¯s works spearheaded by Hyperia were Abraxas and Hyles, each became enamored with and wished to woo the sister. When their arguments threatened to unravel the foundations of all they had built, Vokken suggested that both brothers would be given nine days to convince Hyperia to marry them¨Cwhich is why we have nine days in our week,¡± Tazaro noted as a tangent, marking the information in the corner.

    ¡°Hm. A week doesn¡¯t seem very long,¡± Sheeva hummed.

    ¡°I would think time doesn¡¯t matter much if you¡¯re a god.¡± He countered, then shook his head free of the tangent and continued explaining.

    ¡°Hyles approached conversations alight with plans and ambition, which swayed Hyperia, while Abraxas approached conversations darkened with excuses and disillusions, which deterred Hyperia. In the end, Hyperia chose the cheery, goal-driven Hyles over the spiteful Abraxas. Within five weeks, or one month,¡± He paused to make note of the fact beneath his note for days in a week.

    ¡°They conceived, and after twelve months,¡± He paused again to note the number of months in a year, ¡°They gave birth to the first of the five races of Sferra: Vivroans.¡± He explained, writing down the name on the singular continent in the sketch.

    ¡°Although, some people think that was their first mistake¨Cconceiving,¡± Tazaro joked with a snicker. Sheeva scoffed her own short laugh, then returned her attention to the sketch.

    ¡°Anyway,¡± He mumbled, trying to reign his comedic side back. ¡°After the coronation of Hyles as ¡®God-King,¡¯ Abraxas was festering about his lot in life, believing his status as ¡®godfather¡¯ to Vivroans an act of pity and Tovah¡¯s affections also an act of pity on him. Full of pride, rage, and uncontested hate, Abraxas sought to ruin the planet his brother and the other gods had built together.¡±

    He then returned the pencil to the paper and began to sketch another planet opposite the one already there, though this one with one large landmass and four other, similarly-sized chunks.

    ¡°Fires, earthquakes, and tornados destroyed the lands and wrecked the people, breaking the continent into five masses: Vivroa, Pacem, Pyurita, Tarrakk, and Cruinia. Once the calamities on Sferra were resolved, Abraxas was banned from the god-king¡¯s court, but with Vokken¡¯s recommendation that Abraxas reconcile with the others and Tovah¡¯s plea that he could turn over a new leaf, Hyles allowed him to still reside within the halls of the gods. When he did not better his ways, he was excommunicated from the court.¡± He continued, crossing out Abraxas¡¯s name from the list and adding three more to each column: Alkurik, Lucassen, and Valrigard on the left, and Zira, Fidelia, and Alena on the right.

    ¡°In the midst of all the natural disasters, Vivroans prevailed, and several stood out to the gods with their accomplishments. The remaining gods picked them from the world as champions, and as they rose to join the court of the gods, each had their own boons to bestow upon the ever-changing, growing world as they saw fit. In short, you have: Alkurik, the god of the harvest; Lucassen, the god of entertainment; Valrigard, the god of strength; Zira, the goddess of the home and family; Fidelia, the goddess of justice, and Alena, the goddess of healing,¡± He summed, drawing each of the sigils next to their names again, though much less detailed than before.

    ¡°Eventually, the remaining gods and champions began to partner, marry, and conceive, thus bearing the rest of the five races of Sferra: Valrigard and Alena placed their children on Cruinia, Vokken and Giovina on Tarrakk, Lucassen and Fidelia on Pacem, and Alkurik and Zira on Pyurita.¡± He pointed out, labeling each island and connecting the names to the respective islands.

    She seemed to be hanging on every word, and it calmed Tazaro¡¯s worries that he was boring her. Encouraged, he continued.

    ¡°According to legend, Abraxas began to operate in the shadows and leftover chaos he¡¯d sown. He approached Sferrans and made deals. Immortality, power. Magic. Which, I¨CI¡¯m still trying to come to terms with that, the fact that¡­It¡¯s true. I mean, you¡¯re right¨Cit¡¯s, uh, gotta be true, somewhere.¡± He muttered, forming his orb of light and toying with it, as though the magical thing would convince his hard-wired brain that it wasn¡¯t a bunch of wacky conjecture.

    ¡°And from there, he amassed an army to take over?¡± Sheeva murmured, offering a place for Tazaro to continue. He nodded and dispelled his light.

    ¡°Lucassen, with words of inspiration, rallied an army that Valrigard led against Ta¡¯hal, and both became great in their roles, hence the lute sigil and broadsword sigil. Alena became a healer to treat the injured. Hyperia crafted specialized, hollow arrows made of holly to protect her husband if other gods tried to betray Hyles again. Alkurik and Zira worked to supply the armies and Sferrans with food when their crops were burned or livestock slaughtered by the Ta¡¯hal. Vokken worked in the background as a strategist.¡±

    He took a moment to collect his thoughts, trying to figure out if there was anything he had missed.

    ¡°Some of the Ta¡¯hal created by Abraxas were far too great to vanquish, and so the gods banished them, either into the deep seas or the skies, or, in the case of the ¡®oh-so-Great-Basiliska,¡± He announced sarcastically with a derisive snicker, ¡°With the help of a god-blessed Sferran, Hassogtha, they launched him into the stars.¡±

    ¡°Hm. Do you think¨Cah, never mind¨Cmy apologies! Go on.¡± She interrupted, then held her tongue between her teeth to keep back the question burning at the tip of it.

    Tazaro sat back, pleased in her interest.

    ¡°No, don¡¯t apologize. What¡¯s your question?¡±

    ¡°I wondered if¨Csince Ta¡¯hal were created from Sferrans¨Cif those beasts the gods saw the need to banish are only as powerful as they are because they were once great Sferrans.¡±

    The question hit him like the full stop of a steam-powered machine, and as the gears ground with a violent, hideous screech in his head, Tazaro was barely aware of his spaced-out stare towards the fire.

    ¡°Oh. Geeze. That¡¯s a hell of an idea.¡± He murmured while trying to gather his thoughts, now wondering how powerful a man or woman had to be to have been turned into such a terrifying legendary creature.

    ¡°You¡¯re too good at that, you know¨Casking questions that make you stop and think.¡± He complimented, happy to have something else to muse about on the long journey ahead, even if it did frighten him a little.

    The cracks and pops of sap pockets in the logs accompanied Tazaro¡¯s thoughts, imagining the Ice Basiliska, Leviathan, that dwelled in the seas to have been a successful, dressed-to-the-nines seafaring captain, or perhaps, the opposite: a notorious, scraggly pirate with a big bushy beard and only one leg. He had a hard time wondering what would have been a qualifying characteristic for the mysterious flying serpent bred of Tovah¡¯s jealousy for Hyperia, said to have eight wings that spanned the length of its long, legless, drake-like body. Was it feathered like a bird, too, or scaly, like a reptile?

    ¡°Are there any other creatures that exist thanks to the gods?¡± She asked, reaching for her rations bag and retrieving a slab of jerky. Splitting it in half with a knife, she stuck one piece in her mouth and handed the other to him. If it weren¡¯t for the fact that she had asked another question, Tazaro might have thought it a subtle clue for him to shut up.

    This jerky was mesquite, earthy, with a nice touch of salt, pepper, and sweet chilis, and it caused him to scrunch his face in shock as the flavors danced on his tastebuds.

    ¡°Well,¡± He swallowed his bite and hastily took another as he realized how hungry he was. ¡°Behemoths were, supposedly, created by Hyles upon request for a stronger foe. Guess Valrigard got bored. Though he had Hyperia¡¯s archery skills on his side, the beast overpowered the both of them and escaped into Sferra.¡± He answered.

    Sheeva gave a haughty Feh!

    ¡°That foul beast was brought into the world because some god was bored?¡±

    Tazaro gave her another sidelong glance.

    ¡°You¡­really hate them, huh?¡±

    She remained silent for a moment.

    ¡°I came across one in the crags in the southeast of Vivroa. Barely made it out alive. Between the jowls, the horns, the claws, the tail, and the fact that they¡¯re smart enough to do some magic, I was almost too pissed to bother harvesting it.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve fought one?¡±

    She nodded and began to sprinkle a salt and pepper mixture on the meat, patting it in.

    ¡°Not before it almost mauled me to death. I only managed to kill it because I tricked it into running past a crag urchin that I pissed off along the way. They really will shoot their spines at anything that moves.¡±

    Tazaro redirected his gaze to the fire with an impressed, mouthed wow.

    "You said the clearing we stopped in had a different arrangement. Other than Hyles and Hyperia, what were the pairings?" Sheeva asked, bringing them back on track with their original topic. He picked up his pencil and drew a rough sketch of the clearing''s lineup.

    "Alena and Valrigard are married; apparently, they fell in love as she healed his wounds throughout the war and after the behemoth. Fidelia and Lucassen are married and apparently welcome the souls of the dead at the mouth of the river that supposedly flows back into the earth, waiting to weigh their accomplishments against Fidelia''s scale."

    Sheeva gave a soft hum of comfort at something.

    "Suppose it''s nice to have a warm welcome after death." She chuckled. He fought to not succumb to his own darkening, morose thoughts, finding it funny that she would find comfort in such a silly, non-existent thing.

    "I dunno. Being ultimately judged after being watched your whole life seems a little unfair." He countered, remembering that Sheeva didn''t know that, ideologically, the two watchers spent their time drinking Alkurik''s wine and spectating on Sferran''s pathetic lives, occasionally tipping the odds as they saw fit.

    "Zira is the midwife to the gods, is married to Alkurik, and helps him tend to his crops and flock. She''s the goddess of the home, and because her sigil is the trilithon, we fashion our door frames and entryways after them to represent the whole idea that ¡®home is where you¡¯re welcome¡¯¡­ Supposedly. Really, I think it was purely because they''re more structurally stable."

    Another soft hum reached his ears, and as Sheeva sleepily mumbled something about him being welcome to consider the temple as home, Tazaro took a deep breath and heavily sighed. He wasn¡¯t sure if it would become true, considering he didn¡¯t know what to expect and figured they would be there for a short time.

    "Tovah¡­was facing Abraxas. People pay tithes to her for good weather or for storms to pass quickly¨Csome poppycock about her controlling the skies and throwing fits of rage for her unrequited love. Her sister, Giovina, goddess of the seas and waters, is married to Vokken, and when she''s not taking care of her sobbing sister, she''s pissing away her own troubles with Vokken. Sailors pray to her for good weather while out at sea. I guess farmers might pray to her for the opposite."

    The silence drove him to instantly overthink, and he opened his mouth to reiterate the fact that he found it all to be conjectured bullshit but stopped as he felt her head press against his shoulder.

    Tearing his gaze from the fire, he chuckled with himself and his folly.

    Here she was, simply asleep, curled beneath the blanket and a passive, peaceful expression on her face.

    ¡°Fan of bedtime stories, are you?¡± He cracked, wriggling himself out of the shelter of the blanket as carefully as he could, then stooping to lay her down in a comfortable pose.

    Adding another log to the dwindling fire, Tazaro poked at it to scatter its heat and light, then wandered over to the Stargazer and plopped himself down on his pillow.

    He opened his sketchbook again, ignoring the sketches he had just drawn in the back of it, and searched for the particular cluster of stars he decided to map. They were the group of six brightly twinkling stars that formed the left horn of Behemoth Major, the constellation depicting, as the name implied, a Behemoth. As he mused on the gigantic beast said to have fur, claws, and a long tail that it would use to sweep enemies¡¯ feet out from underneath them, he wondered what kind of crazy acrobatics Sheeva would have had to implement on such quick notice to have survived. He immediately wondered if he would ever be able to do the same and manage to survive but snorted at his worries¨Cthe creature only lived in caves and rocky areas. He would not have to worry about finding any in a forest.

    ¡°Oh? What is this?¡± Bartholomew¡¯s voice called out, making Tazaro jump and almost smash his eye on the Stargazer¡¯s eyepiece. He straightened himself out to steady the machine as it wobbled and threatened to fall over.

    ¡°Could you not scare me like that?¡± Tazaro hissed, rubbing at his sore eye socket. He did not need to worry about waking Sheeva; he had her muffling spell cast over her and had already set up alarms.

    ¡°Would you prefer I float through you?¡± Bartholomew shot back with a cheeky, toothy grin. Tazaro almost began to mock him but stopped himself. The damn ta¡¯hal would likely do it out of spite. He rubbed at his face to resist the urge to throw a punch at the creature.

    ¡°It¡¯s my machine. I made it to look at the stars.¡± Tazaro answered after he stilled his rapidly beating heart. Bartholomew gave him an impressed eyebrow-raise and nodded, then looked up at the sky. From Tazaro¡¯s position, Bartholomew towered over him, standing like a tree amid the clearing.

    ¡°Oh, so it¡¯s a prototype of a telescope.¡± Bartholomew smiled, stooping down to peer through the eyepiece, though frowned as his head fell through and into the body of the machine.

    ¡°A-a what?¡±

    ¡°Mm, don¡¯t worry about it. Have you learned a lot?¡± The ta¡¯hal asked, looking back down at him. The teal eyes glimmered a deep, threatening teal and reflected Tazaro¡¯s orb back at him, adding further intimidation. Tazaro collected himself and nodded. He held out his sketchbook for Bartholomew to flip through but then set it down, remembering Bartholomew could not grab solid objects. He ignored Bartholomew¡¯s brooding and returned to peering at the twinkling stars.

    ¡°So far¡­not really, but it¡¯s only been a couple of weeks. Silka¡¯s just a chunk of ice. You can even see through it to the other side at some points.¡± He admitted. ¡°Oh, but I think it has its fair share of moons. It¡¯s hard to tell, sometimes.¡±

    At Bartholomew¡¯s sated ¡°hm,¡± Tazaro poured focus into jotting down a rough map on his page, brightening his light to see his makeshift grid better. If he had thought about it at the time, he would have added a scaling factor on the machine to help him better record the locations of things. He scribbled down a note to craft and affix one later if he ever had the time.

    ¡°When I was alive, I¡¯d look at the scenery a lot when I wasn¡¯t looking at pretty girls.¡± Tazaro heard after a while of silence. It jarred Tazaro¡¯s thoughts, and he stopped and stared up at Bartholomew, who was now perched in a tree as well as a transparent being could be, what with the tail blade flicking through the branch and trunk of the tree as it swished back and forth in what Tazaro assumed was cheer.

    ¡°What?¡± He asked, frightened to the core as his brain began to throw out questions at a million miles a minute.

    Was Bartholomew¡¯s transparent state because he was actually dead? Was he some sort of ghost? Was he some sort of poor soul struck with immortality and forced to wander the universe, as Abraxas had been?

    ¡°What? Women are pretty¨Cmost of them, anyway. Some men, too.¡± He paused to give Tazaro a lookover, a teasing glint in his teal eyes. ¡°Not you, though. You¡¯re not my type.¡±

    Tazaro scrunched his face at the jab that had nothing to do with what he¡¯d originally meant. Still confused, he shook his head.

    ¡°No, no. You said you were alive? How does that¨Care you¡­are Ta¡¯hal cursed, somehow?¡± He asked.

    He did not miss the terse frown that stretched across Bartholomew¡¯s jowls, and this snared his attentions for the worse.

    ¡°Depends. Some say cursed, some say a blessing¡­but, anyway, I was Sferran at one point in time. Hundreds of years ago.¡± He redirected, waving a claw at the topic he obviously didn¡¯t want to entertain. Tazaro didn¡¯t push, much as he wanted to, figuring they¡¯d revisit the subject at a later time.

    Tazaro sat back, dumbfounded, and wrapped his blanket tighter around himself as an eerie chill swept over him.

    ¡°I...I kinda thought ta¡¯hal were, uh, born?¡± Tazaro questioned, the blush of embarrassment creeping over his cheeks. Bartholomew cackled hard, doubling over in laughter, and Tazaro wondered if he would have fallen out of the tree. The ta¡¯hal still hung upside-down from his current branch like a bat, and Tazaro found it strange that the being¡¯s hair and tail yielded to commands of gravity.

    ¡°What, you thought we had moms and dads that fornicate and make little ta¡¯hal babies?¡± Bartholomew smirked, breaking Tazaro out of his observations.

    ¡°Fine. How do you come into existence, then?¡± Tazaro sassed. Bartholomew¡¯s demeanor grew serious. He spread his wings to push off and floated toward the ground. He sat down on his haunches, spiraling his tail and sitting on it as he had before, a grim expression on his face.

    It was a while before he spoke, breaking the tension.

    ¡°It¡¯s not just Abraxas that can make a deal, you know. All Ta¡¯hal can, and I¡¯ll tell you that some forms of magic shouldn¡¯t be touched.¡± He fell eerily silent, and Tazaro wondered what hellish magic the Ta¡¯hal had stumbled on in his apparent ¡°life.¡±

    ¡°The loss of a child is something no father should bear, yet desperation can drive a man to do unspeakable things, not giving a damn of the trade-offs. Sign your life away, become a cosmically bound being. Watch it all be for naught.¡± He stated, picking at his claws with the blade sticking out of his tail and a deep, seething hatred in his eyes. He grunted at something and sighed.

    ¡°I don''t want to get into it right now. It¡¯s pathetic¡­but not as pathetic as that first kiss you guys shared! Your second one was much better. You¡¯re quite the charmer, aren¡¯t you?¡± Bartholomew veered, giving a snicker.

    ¡°You saw all that?¡± Tazaro stated, embarrassed on Sheeva¡¯s behalf for the first and for both of them for the second.

    ¡°I gotta keep an eye on my bounty hunter. We have a deal.¡±

    ¡°What about Zakaraia?¡± Tazaro asked, an indignant scowl on his face. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to be watching him.¡± He reminded the beast.

    Bartholomew shook his head and stood.

    ¡°No, I''ve been keeping an eye on him, too! Lately, he¡¯s been terrorizing that messed-up jail in Cruinia¨Clike picking off fish in a barrel. It''s unbecoming of a ta¡¯hal, really.¡± He admitted. Tazaro shuddered at the imagery, imagining hundreds of mistreated prisoners screaming in terror in their cells.

    ¡°Can¡¯t believe I am saying this, but hopefully, they¡¯re better off dead. I¡¯ve heard horror stories about that place. Heard they cannibalize their prisoners.¡± Tazaro muttered to console himself.

    ¡°Hm, can¡¯t say.¡± Bartholomew shrugged.

    A nasty smirk cracked on his face, and Tazaro dreaded whatever he was about to say.

    ¡°Hey, do you think butts are soft and tender or tough and gamey?¡±

    Tazaro¡¯s lip curled, and he felt nauseous at the thought and squinted his eyes in disgust, mostly with himself for answering the question in his head with ¡°probably tough and gamey.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s terrible, Bartholomew.¡± He grunted, brushing off the cackle the Ta¡¯hal gave before curling up beneath a tree opposite the two of them, wrapping his wings around himself for warmth.

    To distract himself from tortured prisoners, Tazaro dove back into searching the areas around the main stars for Behemoth Major¡¯s right horn and transcribing until the tire of his eyes caused him to see fuzzy doubles. He sat back, yawned, resigned to his sleepiness, then closed his sketchbook.

    After dwindling the fire down with a sprinkle of dirt, Tazaro crawled into his sleeping bag and settled for the night. With budding courage, hope, and excitement in his chest, he wished himself luck for whatever trials lay in wait for him on the journey ahead.