Dark Origins: Act Two

by SilyaBeeodess

Summary:

"Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: Humans and Monsters." One race feared for their strong souls, the other for their magic, and the mages caught between them feared for both. All silently knew that war would be inevitable. The only thing that mattered was surviving it. One crimson mage understands that well, and is determined to keep herself and those she cares for alive.

Act Two sees Ferris as a young woman coming into her own as a mage. Overall, she's grown content with her life; however, when the Guildmaster orders her to work with the person she despises most for the betterment of the organization, she must leave the comforts of her new home and enter a wider field of conflict.

Chapter 1

It'd been a long time since Ferris had been stalked through the Boroughs. She was such a reckless kid back then, never completely trusting anyone and unable to be trusted in-turn. There were a number of times Ferris had tried running away with her sister only to get caught within a few, short hours. She'd grown since. Now, she was much more subtle with her tricks and schemes.

"Honestly, they're not even trying," Ciara murmured next to her as they walked through the market. She turned her head to watch the edge of a street corner three buildings behind them.

"Oh, hush. Not everyone can be as good as yours truly," Ferris replied, "Now don't look at them. You'll scare them off."

"I will not!"

"You're making that evil face."

"Remind me again: Who taught me how to make it?"

Ferris chuckled, stopping in front of an apple cart. Over five years had passed since she’d been brought to the Arnaud Mages' Guild, set within the heart of the Boroughs. She was a young woman now. In all that time, for all her stubbornness, she’d admittedly grown fond of this place and its people.

The Guildmaster, Tobius, was good to his word. While he gave her no choice but to stay, he also never forced her jump across time. His only real demand was that she keep up with her studies under Madame Valda, the head of all of the crimson mages within the guild and the seers among them. There were times when he still frightened her, if she or any of the other apprentices ever stepped too far out of line; however, she found him to be a fair leader—and even fairly relaxed overall.

Most of her other teachers were similar. Avalbanshee, who led the cyan mages, still came across like a princess in a fairytale, constant in both grace and beauty… at least until she snapped. Nevertheless, she had countless admirers and was beloved by the community. Lamont—or Monty, as Ferris inevitably gave in to calling him—led the yellow mages and acted like a loud, gruff uncle toward the students under him. Those he cared for were always met with a wide smile. Those who went against his strong sense of morality were met with his ire. The leader of the orange mages had a flair for the dramatic. The leader of the violet mages was well-intentioned, if hard to get along with. The leader of the green mages was overly fascinated with poisons and all things macabre. Each of them was wonderful and remarkable in their own right—with Madame Valda, her master, being the most remarkable of them all in her eyes.

Ferris examined the bright, crisp fruits before plucking one to test its firm shape. Ebott was in the middle of her favorite season, autumn. Now was the time for cider to be made with the last harvest as those apples still on their branches grew tart from the approaching cold months.

“Do you think we should get some for Snickerdoodle?”

Ciara set her hands on her hips, “Bribing her with fruit isn’t going to make her make save you any extra sweets…"

Ferris loved the local bakery’s offerings. Doggie biscuits, woofers, pupkin pies, fidoughnuts… Sadly, most of the Boroughs loved them too and the place was often sold out before she ever finished her work for the day. Snickerdoodle also had a strict first-come, first-served policy that she didn’t stray from: She rarely set any of her goods aside for anyone.

“I don’t understand why you visit that bakery so often,” her sister continued, “She sheds!”

“You barely tried her desserts.”

“I barely missed swallowing a clump of fur.”

It really was an exaggeration on Ciara’s part—all caused by one, unfortunate accident that happened after they’d already visited the bakery on a handful of occasions. Sadly, it was just the sort of event that children didn’t easily get over. Ferris never tried all that hard to get her to change her mind. If anything, she was glad Ciara acted picky sometimes. It was a clear sign of her growing up well.

Ciara was shorter than Ferris was at her age, dressed in a long, dark purple tunic with a brass trim. Good food had filled out her scrawny frame. Plenty of rest in a warm bed had cleared the dark shadows under her eyes, which were still as large and as round as they were when she was little. She was a tiny, but healthy young lady. Moreover, Ciara was starting to find her voice again after the many tragedies that kept her silent to all except her older sister.

If that wasn’t worth staying in the Boroughs, then Ferris didn’t know what was.

She bought some apples anyway. Their guild membership came with room and board and Valda took guardianship of them both, but it was always nice to buy something for themselves once in a while. There was always a constant dread of losing this peace they’d obtained, along with a need for independence to avoid just that. Today was one of those days where the pair took a break from guild and enjoyed what the town had to offer.

The young woman reached over to pat the other’s head, the latter then brushing her hand away with a look of embarrassment.  Even her little sister was busy studying as a mage now. Madame Valda once explained that Ciara had the potential to become a seer as well; however, rather than focus on many spells, Ciara stuck to the guild’s laboratory to work on potions instead. Maybe she was following a similar path to their parents’. Ferris was proud of her either way.

At last, it happened. There was a faint tug at Ferris’ belt. The instant she felt it, she spun around and latched onto the small arm returning for her purse. A surprised yelp leapt out of quivering lips.

She’d caught a young thief; a lapine boy that couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old. He had aqua fur and wore a loose shirt with the customary stripe typical for children in the Boroughs as well as the Monster Kingdom. Unable to break away—both from her grip and the intense stare behind her crimson gaze—he started sniveling. She could feel him tremble.   

Another small bunny with fur as pale a yellow as a spring chick’s, carrying a toddler on her back, rushed toward them from where they’d been hiding. She looked up and begged the young woman desperately, “Please, Miss Mage! I-it was just a mistake! My brother didn’t mean it!”

“Didn’t mean it…?” she asked the children in a calm, dangerously low tone with a tilt of her head. She regarded the trio like a lioness might her choice of wounded prey. Ciara stepped closer to her side in support, her eyes equally as piercing. “You ‘didn’t mean’ to follow us through the streets, sneak behind me, and try to take what’s mine?”

The pressure was suffocating. Frightened tears of despair filled their eyes and even the toddler—much too young to even understand the situation—began to wimper. With no excuse, the girl bowed her head. Her crying turned to hysterics, “He didn’t mean it! He didn’t mean it!”

She’d done enough. Ferris let the boy go so suddenly that he fell back on his rear. She continued to glare at their trembling forms, dismissing the children as though they were vermin, “Go, before you can ruin my day any further and I actually give you something to cry about. Lucky for you, I don’t enjoy cleaning up dust-bunnies.”

They couldn’t have scrambled to their feet to get away fast enough. She knew the type. Amateurs. They wouldn’t try pickpocketing anyone else for a while.

“I don’t think I know their names,” she said.

“They’re Barley and Moppet’s kids,” Ciara replied, “That family that moved here last spring.”

“Ah,” Ferris crossed her arms, “I remember. I heard the harvest wasn’t kind to them.”

“Their parents won’t ask for help. I think they’re too proud for it.”

“Proud or not, that’s going to cost them. Tell—”

“The Guildmaster, I know. I’ll see him for you.”

A steady tenor interrupted their conversation, “You’re too cruel, Ferris.”

An azure fire-monster then approached them with a knowing smirk. His name was Blaze; partner to the fox familiar, stablemaster for the guild, and one of four wild mages that saw over most of the ceremonies within the Boroughs. Out of the group, he was the most rational, able to keep the others grounded when the needed arose.

“You should be kinder to kids. Everyone needs a little mercy sometimes.”

“It’s not a mercy to anyone to let them get away with a crime just because life gets difficult,” Ferris answered, never losing her steely expression, “Not for the people they’d steal from, not for them if someone chops off their hands for it one day.”    

“Right. You, of all people, know best…” Blaze raised his hands in mock surrender, his grin only widening, “And I caught your plot to get them some real help from the sidelines, so there’s no need to play the devil for me too.”

She refused to respond to that, changing the subject. She had a bad feeling about why he wanted to talk to her. “I’m not going to play the Scorched Magician either, Blaze. Find someone else.”

It was a vital role for the Boroughs’ annual Wildfire Festival, which rapidly approached. The festival was made after a legend about a massive wildfire that devastated the area over the course of several days. No one knew who the Scorched Magician was other than that they were human, because they wielded a magical staff. Bravely charging into the flames and casting a wide spell over the land, they had gained control of the wildfire and prevented it from destroying the Boroughs and its neighbors.

Each autumn, an intentional wildfire was set to burn away the build-up of fallen leaves and dry underbrush. With this, the Boroughs reenacted that fateful event as a final farefell to the season, at the end of their harvest celebrations. There were other mages that played a part in said reenactment, but whoever played the Scorched Magician naturally had the biggest responsibility. It was a part only meant for an adept magic-user.

Ferris was pushed into the role the previous year.  The town was eager to get someone new to do it and Madame Valda wanted to test how far she’d come in her apprenticeship. It was the most stressful challenge she’d been given yet. Besides that, she didn’t enjoy being the center of attention.

Although Ciara’s fear of fire was getting better, Ferris was also upset that she never got to share in the festivities. So far, it’d just been too much for her—and much too similar to the reality that they had gone through. If Ciara had any intention of joining the festivities this year, then Ferris wanted to be by her side.

“Just get Sil to do it!” she told Blaze when he tried to convince her.

“She’s done it six times already and told me we needed someone else!” He waved his hands outward, tiny sparks flickering with exasperation. “She did it the last two years before you too…”

Ferris wasn’t having it. “Then Iva. She has more experience with fire magic than I do anyway.”

“Yes, and there’s a good chance she’d end up igniting half the Boroughs in her enthusiasm.”

He actually had a point there…

She groaned, “Then you do it—I don’t care. I’m sure you all can figure something out, but Ciara and I will be late to supper if we don’t go soon.”

Clutching her own purse in her hands, her sister suddenly made an awkward expression. She looked away apologetically, “I can’t today. Since I’m still working on my lessons, I just tagged along to pick up ingredients. I was going to tell you: I just thought we’d be walking around for a while longer.”

Now that was a surprise. No matter how busy her apprenticeship became or how many lessons were added to Ciara’s own schedule, they strived to make time for each other. This was still the same girl who crawled into her big sister's bed despite having one of her own, but…

Ferris felt a pang of both cheer and sadness. Ciara was really growing up.

“It’s fine,” she shrugged. There was no reason for Ciara to feel guilty. “I know how it is—and I can still go for a few drinks on my own. I’ll see you later tonight.”

Ferris kissed her forehead and her sister offered to take the apples back herself. After a bit more arguing, the young woman was able to tear herself away from Blaze and continue her walk further into town.

---

The sun had dipped halfway below the horizon when she arrived at the local tavern. Blue Moon’s Chalice, or just Blue Moon’s, was a special place. The usual patrons were as rowdy as they could come. Eventually, someone would be dancing on the tables. It didn’t matter who you were, because everybody needed a warm meal and strong booze once in a while. It didn’t matter how much money you had, because someone would offer to buy you a drink if only so you wouldn’t spoil the mood.

In other words, it was a kind of oasis for many and a vignette on life in the Boroughs as a whole for newcomers. Here, people took care of their own. So long as strangers didn’t make trouble or run their mouths more than necessary, they were welcome.

Normally, Ferris and Ciara would indulge in a visit at least once a month. The food was good and the matron had taken a fast liking to them—granted, she loved the company of anyone that could clean their plate. As she walked in, Ferris was instantly greeted by a full-bodied smell and a few cheers from those at the bar.

The tavernkeeper, Gourdita, was a vegetoid-type monster with a squash-like form. It was impossible for Ferris to guess how old she was and she didn’t want to ask, but she always assumed the matron to be in her middle years. A dark mouth split with glee to reveal a set of long fangs, “Welcome back, child! Don’t stand there in the doorway—get yourself a seat. Where’s your sister?”

Ferris slid into her usual chair in one corner of the room, “Not coming.”

“Not coming?! Well, she’ll miss out on a new dish I’ve just practiced. You like crayfish, don’t you? There’s no way I could get my vines on any lobster, but I wanted to try something a bit fancy and had to make do.”

The young woman hid a trickle of concern with a polite nod. Gourdita really was a good cook, but she kept to a very strict rule. Like most taverns, she never cooked more than a dish of the day. Unlike others, however, she never stuck to a common menu. Usually, you could expect sausages or a basic stew, but there were days like this one where she wanted to get a little more… creative. Those were hit or miss—and if you ordered it, Gourdita would make sure that you ate it.

If this was why her little sister hadn’t joined her, then Ferris would have to play some mischief back later.

“What are you drinking?”

“Mulled wine, if you have it.”

In only a couple minutes, her meal was brought out. Thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as she feared. Large, boiled crayfish sliced open; the meat cut into cubes and lightly sprinkled with some kind of garnish; paired with a bed of greens, pine nuts, and a small cup of melted butter.

She had only just started to relax when a tall figure plopped into the seat across from her. Ferris scowled, her pretty nice day sharply gone sour. Although she’d learned to get along with most of the people in the Boroughs, there was one individual she could never like.

Castellar had also grown up well, despite betraying Arnaud’s mages and effectively being kept as a hostage since. For the first few weeks after Ferris and Ciara were brought to the Boroughs, she’d hadn’t seen him. Just when she’d started to think he might’ve been secretly executed, Tobius brought him to the guild and pretended as though nothing had happened.

“I just finished writing to his father to inform him that Castellar would be extending his apprenticeship with us,” the Guildmaster had explained with a firm grip on the skeleton’s shoulder. “Isn’t it good to already know someone so close to your age? You can help with each other’s studies.”

They never helped each other, not without being forced to. For all these years, the pair had strived to live as though the other was dead. She had no idea what Castellar was thinking by breaking that cycle now.

She hated him so much. She hated his arrogance and lying tongue. She hated his condescending voice. She hated that he shot up a head taller than her without so much as a warning.

“What will you be having, Castellar?” the tavernkeeper asked when she noticed him sit down.

He waved his hand, "No food for me, Gourdita, but if you would, fetch me a cup of mulled wine as well."

"By all means, just invite yourself," Ferris sighed loudly, leaning forward to take a bite, "Heaven knows hardly anyone in the Boroughs will go out of their way to ask for your company."

She averted his gaze as Castellar gave her a long look. Several seconds passed before anything more was said between them. He glanced sideways to call back to Gourdita as she returned to the bar, "On second thought, fetch me your strongest wine. I fear I have a headache coming on."

A few patrons snickered. For however much they loathed each other, the townsfolk loved the entertainment Ferris and Castellar’s rivalry brought them.  

He gave her a harsh look, “Believe me, I don’t want to waste a second with you either, but I can at least show the decency to wait for you to finish your meal.”

Ferris pointed her fork at him, “Then if you have anything important to say, say it now rather than waste both our times."

"Tobius called for us.”

She paused, the slightly bitter leaves turned bland on her tongue. That would explain it: He was playing the messenger. As she got older and could afford to take on more work, the Guildmaster would personally send tasks her way every now and then. However, likely because of their shared low ranking and that he knew she wouldn’t agree to it, he’d never paired her with Castellar on a job before.

“That doesn’t keep you from sitting somewhere else,” she reminded Castellar, even as Gourdita returned with his own drink.

Though he usually kept an air of dignity about him, hearing that, he sank deeper into his chair.

Tch! The young woman tried to focus on the food, “He must have insisted you fetch me, considering how you’re digging your heels in. Does this whole thing make you nervous?”

He raised a brow as well as a cup, “No. Why?”

“Because that's not wine you're drinking; that's my butter."

Given the flustered face he made next, he must’ve already swallowed some. He glared at her, unable to react in a way that wouldn’t cause a bigger scene. A small feeling of victory relieved some of her annoyance.

The summons actually worried her too. If Tobius simply needed the young mages for a job, he would’ve mentioned it to their teachers or made an announcement. What could he want? she wondered. Their feud hadn’t caused any messes either—not lately—so to call just the two of them out of the blue… She didn’t like it. Not one bit.

Chapter 2

The end of the meal and escort back to the guild were unpleasant. Running out of words to hurl each other's way, the two fell into a deep silence of contempt. They kept a few paces apart as they walked—close enough for others to recognize that they were together, but not close enough for either of them to risk being in arm’s length of the other.

The guild’s thick, ‘W’ frame was well-lit and crowded with mages returning from their work or studies. To the left of the foyer was the commons, followed by a stretch of quarters for on-site magic-users and their guests—as well as a set of stairs that led to the second floor with additional quarters and storage. To the right was the dining hall and kitchens, where most of the evening uproar could still be heard as people relaxed after finishing their own supper. The center hall split off the laboratory and infirmary, cutting into a second passage that led to the study, archives, Guildmaster’s office, and a spare room. Each of the three sections were separated by small, shaded gardens to grow common herbs and allow light into the inward-facing rooms.

Ferris and Castellar cut through the crowds on a direct path for the Guildmaster’s office. There, the noise dwindled into a dim roar. Though neither knocked when they entered, they knew better than to leave the door open behind them. Tobius sat at his desk, grumbling over a stack of papers, while his familiar—which took the form of a fluffy, white dog—napped in one corner of the chamber. The leader brightened at their arrival, glad to set his work aside.

“Well, you both certainly took your time,” he said, although he didn’t really seem angry. The difference between how he treated them now compared to Ferris’ terrifying first encounter with Tobius was jarring.

Both stepped further in and gave him a small, solemn bow.

“Guildmaster,” Castellar greeted simply.

Being the blunter of the two, Ferris asked, “Why did you call us?”

Lacing his hands together, Tobius leaned forward and rested his chin on top of them. No, in no way was their guildmaster a vision of professionalism or strict control. His lax attitude often infuriated nobles and the leaders of other mage guilds whenever they visited. Moreover, if confronted on it, he was just the sort of person to double-down on his behavior.

“Other mages may submit to lords,” he would say, “but not us. The Boroughs is the only neutral territory sanctified by both the Human and Monster Kingdoms. As such, we are largely independent of their authority. Never forget that—and do not let them forget it either.”

“I’ll cut straight to the point. By next summer, I will be making an announcement,” Tobius began. He looked to the young woman first, “Ferris, you’re aware that Madame Valda isn’t getting any younger. Though we have other experienced mages, you are her sole apprentice—and you have excelled in your studies. When the time comes, I want you to take her position as Master Seer. Should you prove yourself from there, you will then take leadership over the crimson mages as a whole.”

As the Arnaud Mages’ Guild specialized in all types of magic, it was structured as followed:

The Guildmaster oversaw all mages, with seven Heads under him dealing in each unique magical attribute. Leadership was then split further between specialties under each type. For example, those with green magic were divided between healers and shield warriors, masters of defensive spells. The Guild had multiple heads that saw over those sharing their specialties as well. Tobius was the Guildmaster, but also the Head of the Blue Mages. Likewise, while Valda oversaw the Guild’s seers, she also oversaw the crimson mages as a whole. Beneath that were individual mages, apprentices, and a handful of general students too young to fit anywhere.

Ferris didn’t know what to make of the promotion. There were plenty of benefits, but she didn’t like being tied down with even more responsibility. Moreover, she never felt she was the ‘leader’ type, preferring to tend to her personal duties. Still, she had half a year to change her mind, so it was better to accept the offer now.

“Understood,” was all she said.

Tobius switched his gaze over to the skeleton next, “As for you, Castellar… You have done wonders filling in for me since your apprenticeship ended.”

Ferris held back a snort. It was no secret that by ‘filling-in,’ Tobius meant that he’d been dumping at least half of his workload onto Castellar. Although the latter sometimes substituted as the leader of the blue mages, he was never taken seriously. Everyone knew burdening him with the job was just a means of keeping him stuck in-check in the Boroughs.

“I’m interested in seeing how far you’ll go from here. Castellar, I’m going to train you to one day take over the guild in my stead.”

One could’ve heard a pin drop. It was as though neither of the two young mages could fully process their senior’s words. A clear tension soon after filled the room. Ferris’ shock turned to indignation. Castellar faced Tobius with a confused, uncomfortable look.   

The Guildmaster merely responded to it with a shrug, “It’s not a bad proposition. You are the third in line to succeed your father.”

Although the two youths were each biting their tongues, there was still no immediate answer.

He prodded them further, “You both look like you have objections.”

That was putting it lightly. When he’d forced Castellar to stay at the guild, few spoke against the decision because it also kept his father—Fraktur, a marquis and near-legendary warrior—from retaliating. In a situation where few would even know what the fight was really about, it maintained an illusion of peace. Meanwhile, those who desired for Castellar to face greater punishment could see it through in whatever small, petty ways they pleased. To hand him any kind of real control… It was unthinkable.

Ferris tried arguing practically, “Castellar is a noble. People will think you’re giving authority of the guild over to his family—along with the Monster Kingdom as a whole!”

“I imagine there will be protest, yes, but if he left his house, they’ll have nothing to stand on. It’s what I did.”

Ferris scowled. It was a valid response… if Castellar would actually do it. He’d already betrayed the guild once; he’d proven where his true loyalties lied. How many people would risk relying on him again?

It was something that the skeleton had to be very much aware of, but he argued from another point.  “I don’t see the news being well-received either,” Castellar added in a much softer voice, his brows furrowed. “I’m a monster. One of the Guild’s primary missions is to produce excellent human mages.”

“Says who? Monsters have led this guild in the past. You’re not special,” Tobius cut him off, chuffing, “We are the best—I take no shame in that—but our mission has always been ensuring harmony between the Two Kingdoms. To learn with one another and thereby develop our magic to its finest.”

And a whole lot of fluff that is, Ferris thought. After all, a mission and a realty—an attempt and a result—were far from the same things. A mission that will never see an end.

“I should force you both to revisit your history lessons, but I’ll need you to prepare yourselves to act as representatives of the guild going forward.” Tobius stood up and crossed over to Castellar’s side, patting him on the shoulder. “Take your time to think it over.”

It was still difficult for Ferris to accept what had happened. It was as if she were watching one of the unwelcomed visions she’d had as a girl—a vision of some nonsensical timeline far away from the one she lived in.  She glared daggers at Castellar’s back as they were dismissed only to be stopped by Tobius’ voice before she could walk out.

“Do you have more on your mind, Ferris?”

When prompted in that knowing tone, she couldn’t control herself. She spun back around, “You’re rewarding him?”

“For years of progress under my instruction, yes. Not for what he did to you.”

Ferris only felt her outrage grow, “Don’t you dare act like I’m the only one he stabbed in the back. He’s his father’s dog, Tobius—nothing more. No one will agree to this!”

“Valda agrees.”

It was hard to say whether that rebuttal made her more astonished or angry. Why? She didn’t think he was lying, but as far as Ferris knew, her master had very little to do with Castellar. If it was for the good of the guild, Ferris couldn’t imagine a future with him as their leader that ended well. Why would she support him? What did Madame Valda know, what did Valda see, that she couldn’t?

It didn’t matter.    

“The only reason I’ve stuck around, even after you all stopped keeping track of me, is because I thought it was best for me and my sister,” Ferris glowered, “If you make Castellar your successor, that’s another story. I’d never take orders from him!”

To her surprise, Tobius replied, “I’d be disappointed if you did.”

He walked back over to his desk, sitting down once more. No matter how much she raised her voice, he didn’t seem bothered—which was rare whenever a student pushed him too far. His collected demeaner in moments of friction never failed to jar those around him, but even he had his limits. Today, it was particularly disconcerting.

Had he finally gone mad?     

“I’ve done all I could for this guild and the Boroughs. It’s not up to me what you do when I’m gone. Leave, if you must, or you could challenge Castellar for the position, but I’m still going to do what I think is best.”

Hearing that, Ferris sighed and rubbed her head. It was a while before she asked him, “Why did you really accept him back?”

“Why did you never seek revenge? You never even protested, until now, even though you were the main victim.”

It was clear he wasn’t going to answer her question until she answered his first. Unfortunately, none of the answers Ferris had could satisfy her enough to admit aloud.

As if in consolation, he continued, “I have a theory on the nature of unique types of magic. We’ve differentiated them by color for years, but no one entirely understands them. I have, however, noticed certain qualities about people who possess certain attributes. Those with orange magic are remarkably brave. Those with yellow magic have a strong sense of justice.”

He picked up his quill to return to his grueling paperwork.

“And those with green magic are often the kindest souls you will ever meet. For Castellar to be well-practiced in both defensive and healing magic, don’t you think there’s more to him than just a number ‘5’ attached to his head?”

Ferris scoffed. ‘Kind’ was the furthest word she’d use to describe Castellar. If his level and actions didn’t negate such a ridiculous idea, then the wounds she’d endured when she’d fought him did. Again though, she couldn’t find her words.  

Chapter 3

Ferris wasn’t about to stake her future on the Guildmaster’s intuitions or theories. If she couldn’t get a proper explanation from him, then she would get one from Madame Valda. Usually, her master could be found in the Guild’s study, meditating over old texts. However, it was so late into the evening that the young woman marched straight to the only other place she could’ve been at that hour.

The building’s second floor was much quieter than the first.  Almost half of it was devoted to storage and another section was quartered off for the heads’ private rooms.  Bunking in one of the communal rooms downstairs, Ferris had very little reason to ever come up here. Still, she knew the halls well. She walked down a long passage lit only by a single window at the far end, stopping about midways, and knocked.

Valda hadn’t yet prepared for bed. Dark robes with a burgundy trim were fastened to her frame with a loose belt. Her grey hair—which Ferris always thought to be abnormally long—was twisted in its usual style, tied back with a metal pin. Many thin wrinkles detailed the contours of her narrow face, and though her eyes bore the weight of many years, they still burned with the same crimson resolve that Ferris’ did.

She hadn’t liked the elderly woman one bit when they first met. For all of Castellar’s lies, she thought he’d been right to called her an old hag. Like Tobius, the perfect calm she maintained when facing the rebellious adolescents was jarring. Her lessons were though, sometimes painful, and she had a gaze that claimed to know everything. It all infuriated Ferris.

Nevertheless, the harsh teachings pushed her to master her abilities at a rapid rate. She’d caught up with her peers in a short time, making it so that no one could contest her position: Not the guild’s handful of other crimson mages, envious of her status as Valda’s one and only apprentice, nor those sent from other towns to lure her to their side.

Between short words and curt insults, both student and teacher had an odd sense of respect for each other. No one knew the world in the way they did.  Even now, Madame Valda seemed to have anticipated her arrival, for she greeted her by saying, “I see Tobius has given you the good news.”

Ferris’ expression only soured further at the almost jovial tone, “And I see you didn’t think to warn me.”

“It wouldn’t matter if someone didn’t neglect their meditation. Something this predictable should’ve been easy for you to see coming.”

For once, she didn’t take the bait. “Making Castellar the next guildmaster is a big mistake. He’ll never switch loyalties. He doesn’t care about the Boroughs or us!”   

Madame Valda briefly shot a glance two doors down. The young woman stopped herself from raising her voice any louder. She’d nearly forgotten, but it hadn’t been all that long since Castellar had changed rooms as the acting Head of the Blue Mages. Immediately after though, she felt embarrassed for going quiet. It was the truth. Why did it matter if he heard her or not?

Valda held out her hand. Ferris glanced at it for a moment before looking back up at her mentor’s face with disgust. The former insisted, “Try taking a look.”

She rolled her eyes, but inevitably gave in, taking Valda’s hand into her own. Contact wasn’t necessary; it just aided their focus. By concentrating on a person, a seer could examine the potential futures that stood before that individual. Ferris closed her eyes, embracing an eternal void she’d already visited a thousand times over.

In her mind, she searched that wide stretch of darkness for a familiar red thread. These threads had bothered her practically ever since the first day her magic awakened. Sometimes, they served as random warnings in moments of danger, harmlessly cutting through her from the same directions an enemy’s attack would then come from. One of her first lessons was observing them and learning their full purpose: They were strings of fate, connecting her with other people across time and space.

A fledgling crimson mage would only really ever see them on instinct, just as she did, as a means of self-defense. A practiced seer, however, could follow these threads to check whatever futures they led to. The further you peered across time, the more confusing and tangled they became as potential realities overlapped or diverged toward different endings. Even the course of a single day could split into a hundred separate paths—nevermind peering several months ahead.

The bundle of strings Ferris managed to snag was an absolute mess, and the fragmented visions tied to them even more-so:

Nearly all of them pointed to a future in which she became the guild’s leading seer, but overall, the similarities stopped there. In some futures, Castellar wasn’t anywhere to be seen; in others, she saw him far more often than she liked. The guild’s mages rejected him, supported him, or didn’t particularly care either way. Monty would try to chase Castellar out or would smack him hard on the back and let him off with a warning.

She and Castellar fought and yelled. They worked in-synch. Somone let the fighting boil to its climax. Someone got between them. They went for each other’s throats. They went separate ways. They stood calm, preparing to welcome another generation of students. They turned to each other, smiling—

She’d seen enough, not welcoming any of the things she’d witnessed. 

Madam Valda’s voice broke her the rest of the way out of her trance, “Is it that you can’t see it or that you don’t want to see it?”

Ferris frowned bitterly at the implication, “Just because there’s a small chance of everything turning out fine, doesn’t mean it will.” She would place her faith in the most realistic course of events.

Since there was clearly no means of changing her master’s mind, she turned to leave. However, Valda caught her. “Ferris, it may be our job to look to the future, but before that, you must understand the past, see it with clear eyes, and know when to let it go,” she said, “I don’t blame you for being angry with the boy, but for the good of this guild—and for yourself—I’m asking you to let go of that anger.”

It wasn’t so easily done…

There was one other thing in the futures she saw that brought the reality of what was coming into sharp focus. A part of her knew it already, even without the visions or the Guildmaster’s heads up. Madame Valda was nowhere to be seen beyond the span of a year in any future.

“You’re dying.” Spoken in a low, even tone, it wasn’t a question.

In any case, her master neither confirmed nor denied it. She just grinned, “You still have so much to learn… Honestly, it may be a mistake for Tobius and I to give you my position rather than Castellar his. All the more reason for you to work all the harder. You better meet me on time in the morning!”    

“At the tourney grounds, I know,” Ferris sighed. She guessed it was to be expected that Valda would steer the conversation away from herself. While the young woman had vented plenty about the number of times she'd died, her own deathers weren’t something the other ever shared—past or future.

Valda chuckled, “Goodnight, my willful student.”

“Goodnight, you old bat.”

Ferris headed back down the stairs just as unhappy as when she’d gone up, only now dreading the morning to come. The guild had its own training area at the back of the building, but it wasn’t always large enough for mages to try their magic against each other at full strength. A trip to the tournament grounds meant her next lesson would be severe. If she was really nearing the end of her apprenticeship though, she really would need to do her best. 

Chapter 4

Ferris awoke late the next morning, punished for her tardiness by a pillow sent soaring at her face from across the room. The loud chatter of other mages swam into her muddled consciousness as she sat up and wiped her eyes. She grumbled to herself before facing her attacker, How does she still have that kind of strength...? 

Another young woman with dark-skin, fiery eyes, and a loose ponytail stood at the foot of her bed with her hands on her hips. Iva was one of the mages that had traveled with Tobius to find her and Ciara five years ago. Four years older and nine years Ferris' senior, she was an adept magic user—one of the best orange mages in the guild. Despite her tomboyish and often reckless personality, she was something of a sisterly figure to many young students.

She was also heavily pregnant. She and the potions master, Percy, married the previous year and were expecting their first child to enter the world soon. As they both insisted on working and no one wanted to leave Iva alone at home at a time like this, she'd temporarily moved back into the guild's quarters—which meant that she was back to her daily mischief as well.

"Up and at 'em, Ferris! Don't you have a lesson to get to this morning?" Iva smirked.

Ferris grumbled back in a sarcastic tone, "With that personality of yours, I can already tell you're going to be a wonderful mother."

"At least my child will be on time."

She sighed, tugging an arm behind her head in a long stretch. Ferris then looked around to find that the bed next to her was empty. "Ciara already went out?" 

"She said she wanted to get an early start on her chores," Iva nodded, turning away to finish her own morning preparations.

One of the sourest notes to their days at the guild was that the two sisters didn't have as much time for each other as before. They used to be practically glued at the hip. Here, from Day One, Ferris went through a strict training regimen. She'd had a lot to do to not only catch up to others her age, but prove she was worthy of standing above them. Valda settled for nothing less. Now it was Ciara's turn to hit the grindstone. 

"If you want, I could hound Percy a bit. Tell him to go easy on her," Iva continued.

However, Ferris waved the offer aside, "No, if this is what she wants, I'm not going to stop her."

She climbed out of bed, throwing on a simple shirt and tunic in her usual, dark colors. She could now afford something in a brighter, richer fabric and was encouraged to present herself well as a mage; however, she was much more comfortable dressing as she always did. Neither flowing robes nor elaborate accessories suited her, they just got in the way. At most, she allowed herself to wear a nice pair of boots and a strong, wide belt at any given time.

Ferris had grown her hair out a bit over the past few years as well. The unkempt locks that once framed her face were replaced by a side ponytail somehow almost as wild. Most days, she didn't bother even trying to tend to it. Even if she did manage to smooth it down, her hair would just spring out again after that morning's exercises.

"Do you think you could give us a premonition when the baby gets here?"

Ferris looked over her shoulder to see Iva gently rubbing her womb with a hopeful expression. In places where mages were welcomed, it was common for people to receive premonitions from seers at new stages to their lives. Marriages, long journeys, the births of children... As weak as such visions were when peering that far ahead, it was a way of blessing others or helping them avoid potential troubles. Ferris had already given a number of them during her apprenticeship. Nevertheless...

"I thought you already got a premonition. Are you that worried about the birth?"

"No, Valda said he should be a healthy boy," Iva stepped over to her side, "I want one from you though. We're friends."

She'd been worried. Since there was never a guarantee of anything, Ferris had been peering into the other woman's future off and on to make sure both she and her son would be safe. It wasn't that she had any problem sharing her visions with Iva, but at the same time, they weren't anything she felt she had the right to give right now—not when her master's life could be ending right when the child's began. Old bat that she was, she was still loved by all in the guild. If Iva didn't receive a final blessing from her, there was a chance she'd regret it.   

Ferris brushed off the orange mage, "Then just ask Madame Valda again. Her predictions are still more accurate than mine anyway."

Iva pursed her lips at the younger woman's retreating form, "Would it kill you to wish my baby good luck?"

"I do wish him good luck," she said, pausing briefly at the door, "He'll need it since he's your and Percy's child."

Deftly avoiding another pillow thrown at her head, Ferris raced out to grab a quick breakfast before carrying on with her day.

---

The tournament grounds weren't terribly far from the guild, but it was still at least a fifteen minute trip on-foot. Although Ferris had become a decent rider as part of her training—and she'd grown fond of her reliable, buckskin rouncey—she decided to enjoy the morning walk alone. The town stood in the opposite direction, so she was surrounded by nothing but forest and farmland as far as the eye could see.

While the Borough's tourney grounds hosted much of the traditional games commonly seen at festivals, the most popular by far were its magical duels. There were exceptions, but they mostly followed monsterkind's martial code of honor: The contestants would take turns casting spells, gradually weakening their opponents or throwing them out of the arena in order to claim victory. Another factor almost equally as important, however, was audience appeal. Often, local favorites were determined by how impressive a contestant's spells were instead of how regularly they won their matches. 

As such, it wasn't unheard of for the duels to get out of hand. One could also name any number of accidents that occurred from some of the overwhelmingly powerful spells that consumed the grounds, which was why they were set so far away from everything else as a safety measure. Ferris had only been allowed to participate herself two years ago, as contestants were required to have a minimum amount of HP to sign-up. 

The sun was already high in the sky, but the she had made it just in time, as promised. Two horses were tied to separate posts just outside of the arena. Although she recognized them, neither steed was Valda's. 

A loud clack pierced the air before she had the chance to worry. Peering around the entrance, Ferris spotted Castellar and the Guildmaster dueling in the center of the arena while Valda watched them from the lower benches. From the look of the weary pair, they must've been here since before dawn. They were engaging in some kind of swordplay with their magic, Castellar wielding one of his usual bone staffs and Tobius a blade with a jagged, oddly-shaped hilt.   

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, Of course... As two of the guild's leaders, little passed between Tobius or Valda without the other knowing. Her master had just neglected to tell her that they'd show up.

Unwilling to make herself known just yet, Ferris walked back over to the horses. The pure white mare was the Guildmaster's, as marvelous a beast as could be found in any story. The black stallion with white spots on its face was Castellar's. While an imposing creature at a glance, it was actually docile by nature.

Much more agreeable than its skeletal rider, anyway. Apparently, Castellar had raised the horse since his early days at the Guild, and he'd left it behind when he'd travelled across Ebott to come after her.

Ferris reached up to stroke its nose, Your master's very cruel, isn't he? Did he even have a plan to get it back? She felt he must've left it behind to throw off anyone who searched for him, but whether or not Castellar succeeded in dragging her to his father, after anyone here realized the truth of what happened, there shouldn't have been any chance for him to return. And yet, the unwitting animal was loyal all the same.

"I have half a mind to set you loose," she whispered, "You'd be better off without him."

Soon enough, Ferris really had to reveal herself. If she didn't, Madame Valda would only intensify the day's lessons. She walked back toward the arena with a sigh, pulling her face into a hard expression.

Her teacher was the first to notice her, smirking, "There you are! I was beginning to think we'd have to send out the dogs for you."

Her greeting drew over Tobius' and Castellar's attention. The pair stopped and turned to face Ferris, the Guildmaster straightening his stance as he waved at her. Castellar just stared, only a slight annoyance flickering in his otherwise unmoved gaze. 

"I decided I'd take a morning stroll while I still could enjoy one," she replied, "I wasn't aware this would be a group lesson."

Valda grinned, but admitted to nothing, "I was planning to make my way here alone, but then we crossed paths."

"So they're leaving then?"

No such luck. "Since we're all here, Tobius and I were thinking of having a two-on-two match—the students vs. their teachers." 

Wiping his brow, the Guildmaster added with a nod, "Neither of you are exactly known for your cooperation. It should be a good test."

Of my patience, the young woman grumbled in her mind. It was clear that the two masters were trying to force them to get along. To them, it was a matter of securing the guild's future. Emotions or old grievances were irrelevant.

Ferris remembered her threat to leave if the Guildmaster went through on his promise to name Castellar his successor, but the more time passed and the more her initial outrage ebbed, the less appealing that option was. With her current abilities, nothing could stop her and she'd likely be a welcomed hire most anywhere; however, no one would truly offer her or any other mage the same freedom as they had in the Boroughs. In five years, she already had a life here. Ciara had a life here and uprooting her yet again—this time from her own chance to study and grow—for the sake of her own anger would be an unnecessary and thoughtless cruelty. Tobius probably understood that, which was why he wasn't bothered much by her rash claim.

For now, Ferris would endure. Still, if she and Ciara were given a better opportunity or if any trouble came up, they would flee from the territory in an instant.

Another minute passed as they waited for the two men to catch their breath before their teamed spar began. Ferris aligned herself on Castellar's side of the arena, keeping a noticeable distance from her forced partner, while Valda did the same by Tobius. With no one to start the match, the Guildmaster offered the two young mages the first move. 

There was a moment of silence as all four of them took a read of one another. Then, Ferris lunged forward with the opening attack.

Chapter 5

The young woman kicked off the ground in a parade of orange sparks. Gone was her worn dagger, which for years now had been tucked away in her storage chest as a reassuring relic of hard days long past. Instead, a blade drawn from her own magic—her Astral Dagger, as she fondly named it for its star-like shape at the top of its hilt—was summoned into her hand. She struck fast, all of this in a single action as the skeleton yelled her name to try and stop her impatient maneuver.

It was blocked easily with a swipe of Madame Valda's hand, a flash of golden-green emitting from her fingertips. She gave her student a small, provoking grin, "It's good to see that you'll listen to some of your teachers, even if you won't always listen to me." 

Feeling the shift of energy around her, Ferris leapt away. Valda summoned her own weapon: A long, decorative lance that reminded Ferris of a clock's hand. Not holding back, her master swung for her stomach; however, already too late, the elder missed by a significant gap.   

When Ferris began her training, that gap was not so wide. She remembered countless sessions ending with her battered and bruised, any attack she miraculously dodged followed by another that flung her into the dirt. Over time, she knew it was not just skill alone that saved her from further beatings, but Valda's declining health. The Head Seer clearly had years of combat experience under her belt, which was only recently hindered by her great age. It added some unwanted truth to her absence in their shared visions...

If the two were to have dueled alone, Ferris might've won easily for a rare change. Tobius, however, was quick to add to Valda's counterattack with a stream of bullets that circled the young woman. Castellar partially blocked them by raising a large shield to Ferris' right while she once more jumped to safety. A single bullet nicked her in the arm, but it wasn't enough to do any damage—just serve as a warning.

"Teamwork, Ferris!" he admonished her, batting away a second bullet that flew too close to himself.

"Yes! Teamwork, you two!" Tobius echoed in an irritatingly jovial voice. He held out his arms, goading them, "Or do you plan to keep lagging behind your masters?"

Ferris gritted her teeth. It took some control not to simply lash out a second time. Castellar made the next move, dispersing the shield to instead create a wide barricade behind Tobius and Valda. "Now!" he barked, charging ahead with his staff raised. 

Still annoyed, Ferris complied and raced behind him. The order alerted the two guild leaders. The Guildmaster took Valda's hand and launched them both above the barricade just as their students reached them, a deep blue color radiating from their souls. Valda fired off another basic spell.

Castellar grabbed Ferris by the waist and pulled her close to himself, raising his arm to create another, much smaller shield than the first. Defensive magic almost always took more concentration than other forms, and it took precious seconds to break down a spell as large as the barricade's without wasting energy. Ferris pushed herself away from the skeleton once it was clear and hurled a lunar disc through the air.

It was one of two very similar attacks she'd created for her arsenal. A solar disc utilized yellow magic and had a long range. A lunar disc couldn't match the same distance, but often sailed at an arc or flied back around to startle her opponents. While that trick wouldn't catch their teachers by surprise, in that moment, they wouldn't be able to get out of its way easily. Now, Madame Valda tried raising a shield. It failed to cover them in time; Tobius twisted his body around to take the brunt of the hit before they landed. 

Ferris didn't get the chance to bask in the satisfaction of making the first real strike. An arrow shot past her head from behind—so close that the vibrating air surrounding it tickled her ear as it zipped by. She looked back over her shoulder to find that Castellar had switched to his long bow. She flared, "Watch it!"

"I could say the same to you!" he shot back, launching another arrow. She reared her head further out of the way. It collided with a second spell, exploding in a mass of glowing, white fragments. The Guildmaster took advantage of the momentary blind spot, closing in with a swing of his sword.

Astral Dagger still in-hand, Ferris surged more of her magic into it. The blade extended and she quickly lifted it to block the incoming attack. Her heels skid in the earth as she was forced back a few steps when the weapons clashed. A flurry of spells soared over them as Valda and Castellar tried to assist their partners.

The back-and-forth continued for a while; ultimately though, Tobius and Madame Valda won the match. They'd succeeded in placing their students in their weakest roles as a pair—Ferris was not a heavy tank of a fighter nor was Castellar capable of resigning himself to a support role—and, as was to be expected, their ability to cooperate with one another was subpar at best. Individually, they were still two of the best mages in their generation, but at this stage, it meant nothing for the long-term goals their masters had in-mind. The four went another few rounds, stopping only once to rest, before calling the lesson to an end.

“Now that we’ve proven that you both are entirely hopeless,” the Guildmaster’s usually self-assured and playful demeanor was lost in his scolding, “I think one of my points from yesterday has been well-proven. Castellar, Ferris, you are the future of the guild. You need to act like it. And your petty arguing won’t just reflect badly on the rest of us; at the wrong time, it could get the two of you killed.”   

Leaning against the arena’s inner wall, Madame Valda nodded behind him, “I agree. Neither of you are children anymore. Even if you are unsuccessful in burying the hatchet between you, you should at least put up a unified front at times like this.”

The pair of masters looked to one another in mute conversation. The longer it wore on, the more frustrated Ferris felt. She glanced over at Castellar, whose face was no less bitter than hers.

Finally, Tobius spoke up once again, “Let’s set a goal. In light of his upcoming marriage, King Dreamurr has considered arranging a tour across the Two Kingdoms. I suspect it will begin as early as spring. Following that is the Meeting of Olives. You’ll step in as our proxies for both events.”

Ferris’ eyes widened. Neither were easy jobs. She had Castellar had attended to nobles, even royalty, as their masters’ closest subordinates, but really only for menial tasks. Personally, this would be her first time meeting the King of Monsters and she had no idea what to expect of that. Meanwhile, the Meeting of Olives could be considered one of the most important diplomatic events on the continent.

It was named such for its origins relating to trade between nations and the concept of extending an olive branch to their neighbors. Held for a few weeks every two years, ambassadors from many kingdoms would come to Ebott to reinforce their relationships and create new deals. Ebott always had a minimum of three representatives and their attendants at the Meeting: One from the Human Kingdom, one from the Monster Kingdom, and a mage from Arnauds to help mediate things between them.

Castellar’s brow furrowed and he lowered his head, “Tobius, that honor isn’t ours to take.” Although he briefly forgot to use titles, he tried to keep his words tactful. “It should be yours, or else go to someone with more experience.”

“You’ll manage,” he said. There was no use arguing against the decision.

A part of Ferris couldn’t help but blame the skeleton for the task being forced onto her as well. It made more sense for Castellar to play diplomat than for her to, given his background and if the Guildmaster really did insist on making him his successor. She didn’t like the possibility of getting dragged around for his sake.

As if peering into her thoughts, Valda added, “It’s for your good too, Ferris. While it was always to protect you, you haven’t been exposed to much outside of the Boroughs. It’s better if you see that part of the world for yourself, and with someone you can rely on.”

Ferris almost spat.

The group left the tournament grounds and collected the horses. It wasn’t until then that Ferris realized Madame Valda also came without her steed. The Guildmaster lifted her onto his own and suggested that their students take their time getting back.  It was yet another plot of theirs, no doubt…

As they went ahead, Castellar approached her on horseback and held out his hand. She turned her gaze away and started walking. Ferris wouldn't ride with him if her life depended on it. Even if he went so far as to offer to lead on-foot so that she might ride alone, she would be too proud to accept it. Much to her chagrin, he nevertheless rode alongside her.  

"I'm trying to make an effort, Ferris," she heard him mutter after a long silence, "I was hoping you could manage the same."

"Don't bother," she snapped.

The skeleton still had a way of touching nerves she didn't know she had. This was one of them. The moment he uttered those words, it was as though something erupted inside of her—a fire unleashing that she could barely cover up before it fumed outward. This sudden effort was no different from what he put toward all of the lies he’d used on her before. It was the same command to follow: To obtain her submission by any means necessary.

The pair crossed paths with a handful of children. The group paid them no mind, completely lost in their own world as they played. They ran toward the woods, with large sticks in their hands acting as imaginary staffs. The young monsters fired off simple spells while the humans tried to mimic magic with whatever was available to them—a fistful of dirt or just the air itself. In their minds, the techniques were much grander, rivaling the best of mages.

Ferris could’ve imagined getting spanked for that kind of play had she grown up in any other household in her hometown. A bittersweet grin played on her lips.

Castellar noticed, “So, the witch still can muster a smile.”

Not after that. “When I’m not forced to see your hideous face,” she threw back at him.

“Which brings us back to this: Do you enjoy cutting your nose to spite yours?” He made a pointed wave of his hand between her and his horse.

“Well, if you’re that scared to be up there alone, I’m sure one of the children would be happy to join you,” Ferris mocked, “Though I find it pathetic for such a fine stallion to have such a poor rider.”

Castellar didn’t react at first. Soon though, he nudged the horse’s side with his foot to spur it ahead, cutting off her path. He brought the creature to a full gallop, dust from the path almost flying in her face. She scowled at his back, half-tempted to hurl a spell at him, but caught herself.

If she did plan to pay him back, she would have to make it look like an accident.

Chapter 6

A heavy pile of texts was waiting for Ferris when she got back. In preparation for her change in the guild's ranks and the work it entailed, she was told to review the names of the Two Kingdoms' noble houses and their history. It was such a tedious chore that she wasn't sure if she preferred it to getting thrashed around the tourney grounds or not. Although she had learned a lot in a short time, she was painfully aware that academics weren't her strong suit...

She practically made her little sister look like a scholar by comparison. The young woman glanced across the table they shared in the study. Ciara's handwriting was clear and simple, yet elegant: Ferris' was sharp, a few of her letters somewhat erratic. Ciara picked up the verse and prose from books as easily as breathing: Ferris had struggled to read for a long time. Ciara understood various subjects: Ferris didn't take quickly to much beyond magic and plants.  Madame Valda blamed it largely on her late start, but Ferris just found most of her studies to be long and unbearably dull. She greatly preferred to do things then read about them.

For example, she'd have a much easier time of remembering the list of names in front of her if she actually had faces to put them to. The majority of nobles she'd met—what few of them there were—were either the neighboring barons or a couple of fallen houses with only their titles to their names. It's not as if they'll make a strong point to remember me either, she huffed to herself, running her thumb across the edges of several pages. In the jumble of names, only a few stood out in her memory. 

Castellar's family came to her mind the easiest, if only for all of the bad blood associated with it. His father, Fraktur, was a marquis and a famous warrior in the Monster Kingdom. The family had only obtained their high status within the past generation. There was no record of a clan name. They were in-charge of watching over a large section of the border that split the Two Kingdoms—somewhere to the east. Castellar had four siblings, two older and two younger, who Ferris knew nothing about. 

Although he rarely talked about it, the Guildmaster came from the Human Kingdom's lower nobility: A family without much to their name outside of their natural talent for magic. Many of its members served higher nobles or worked for the three famous mage guilds in the capitol, so it made sense that Tobius couldn't keep strong ties with them when he chose to lead Arnaud's.

Then there were the royal families, whose legacies needed little explanation. The Dreemurrs had ruled since before written history, and it was believed that their genealogy was sprinkled throughout most of the Monster Kingdom's nobility, given how many of them were classified as Boss Monsters and possessed a goat-like appearance. Asgore Dreemurr took the throne about eight years ago. From what Ferris heard, he was well-loved by his people, but often judged hard for his naivety.

Meanwhile, the Fanya royal family's reign began around five centuries back. The current king, Gerard Fanya, had two living offspring: Crown Prince Denver and Princess Mordera. Unlike King Dreemurr, Ferris had actually met the Fanyas three times. Once, early on in her training, she and her master were directly summoned by King Fanya as a means of sussing her out. The Fanyas had visited the Boroughs twice since then, as part of the same sort of tour they expected the Dreemurrs to make in the spring. 

"It's been so long since Asgore last came here," said Avalbanshee, sitting draped across the table like a melted puddle. She and her most recent student, Gwendolyn, had joined the two sisters in their studies for the afternoon. "I think you'll be impressed with him."

"From the rumors, he sounds almost childish," Ciara muttered with her nose in a book.

"It's just that sometimes his heart can be a bit larger than his brain." 

Gwen gave her teacher an awkward smile, summoning a cold wind from the palm of her hand to cool off the Head of the Cyan Mages. The woman gave her an appreciative grin in-turn, though she still continued to fan herself also.

Gwen was a small, charming child with hair as dark as the night and eyes as clear as a blue sky. Although she wasn't any older than Ciara, she'd apparently been a rare talent from birth. She'd been raised at the guild ever since she was an infant—her parents unknown, likely scared or uncertain of how to care for a child with one arm and a powerful gift for magic. To Ferris' gratitude, the young girls became fast friends when the two sisters first arrived at Arnaud's, giving Ciara a much-needed anchor during that tumultuous new beginning. 

"Emotional to a fault then," Ferris concluded.

Avalbanshee thought about it for a moment before giving her a small nod, "It's only my opinion, but I'm not sure if he was really ready to become king yet."

It was said that Asgore's parents had worked tirelessly to strengthen the Monster Kingdom during their reign. However, they were also known for being rather aloof, to say the very least, when it came to engaging with humans or anyone beyond Ebott. When the Conflagration, an extremist band of criminals primarily consisting of fire monsters, appeared, they didn't interfere until the group had grown so large in power and numbers that their inferno spread to the Dreemurr's own doorstep. That wasn't to say that the Fanyas were any quicker to send aid to the numerous towns destroyed by the Conflagration, but the Dreemurrs had long ignored the damage that their own people were responsible for. 

There was still some debate over how the late king and queen had passed. All that was known was that they eventually left their palace to deal with the Conflagration themselves and were struck down in the heat of battle. Whether they were killed by a human or monster's hand was a mystery. In any case, Asgore and his supporters had to clean up the mess his parents left behind. The boy-king handled the confusion well, and had salvaged what few good relations still existed between the Two Kingdoms, but he was young and inexperienced nevertheless.

Gwen looked of the nearby window, reminiscing aloud, "I remember when he last came to visit. He played with all of us kids; I wouldn't have guessed he was a prince at all."   

Ciara frowned, "But that was a long time ago, right? Why bother coming here now?"

"You might be surprised to hear it, but Asgore once loved to travel," Avalbanshee explained, "In his teens, even when he wasn't on-tour, he might surprise the Boroughs with a visit. Then, when he became king, life got busy and... Well, he's trying to be more mindful."

Ferris noticed the subtle look the ice woman gave her, but didn't respond. Even if only four people at the guild knew about her hidden abilities—Castellar, the Guildmaster, Valda, and herself—others had to guess that something was strange for so many powerful figures to aim for her. Over time, Ferris was able to mitigate many of those suspicions; however, those who been called to find her all those years ago never truly looked the other way.

She knew what that look was about. King Asgore may have been too busy dealing with the remains of the Conflagration and the power vacuum his parents left him with at one point in time, but there were other matters that had likely kept him from returning to the Boroughs in recent years. Her attempted capture by Castellar, his father, and their allies, and Castellar's position as a hostage following that, affected the guild's relationship with the Monster Kingdom as a whole. 

Since then, Asgore had only sent a proxy—typically a warrior turtle named Gerson, who Ferris actually respected a great deal—to visit in his place.

Thinking about it now, Ferris was upset that she might not get to see the famous Hammer of Justice that year...

Avalbanshee continued, smiling now as she began to revive thanks to the cooling spell, "Speaking of travelling, I heard you finally get to take on some real work. Are you looking forward to it?" 

Seeing the mischief in her stare, Ferris debated whether or not to respond. Of course she was glad to take on jobs fitting of a true mage—not just friendly jousts, entertaining at festivals, or assisting in local affairs. Keeping her largely constrained to the Boroughs and its immediate neighbors might've been for her safety, but she felt her magic would now be put to a true test. Moreover, she was curious of Ebott's many natural wonders like those she'd seen on her journey through the wilderness. 

The issue was that Castellar would be joining her, so she and the skeleton might 'unite under pressure,' as Tobius had put it. Their first assignment was to investigate the endless trafficking of young magic users. They were set to head out within the next few days.

Her sister pouted at her from behind her book, "I wish I could go with you..."

Not knowing the full context, Gwen tried to reassure her, "We'll get our chance, although I'm thinking I might like to own my own food stall these days."

"Food stall? What would you even sell?"

"Cold treats. I heard that crushed ice with berry juice has been popular lately."

"You won't find much business from that now."

"I'd happily stop by your stall every day," her master offered, then brought the conversation back to the earlier topic, "Be careful, Ferris. It's a dangerous world out there."

Given all that she'd already endured, the young woman couldn't help finding the warning a little absurd. She shrugged, "I'm aware, but when are you going to pick up missions again, Avalbanshee? Summer is over."

"Ah, but the heat has yet to pass."

Their group study ended about an hour later. Gwen left to work on her daily chores while Ciara entered the guild's laboratory. As always, Percy was hard at work inside. His usually sleek, drawn back hair was frazzled and there were dark bags under his violet eyes—no doubt thanks to the encroaching due date of his and Iva's first child.

"We might want to give him something to calm his nerves a bit," Ferris mumbled to her sister in the doorway, "I could help you make it later if you'd like."

"It's a good idea, but I can manage it myself. I know you're busy," she replied, giving her a stern, parting glance, "Avalbanshee is right though. Be careful. I don't like you being alone with him."

Ferris blinked at her before ruffling her hair. She should've guessed Ciara would be worried over that. "Your big sister is at least as strong as a head mage now. I can handle him."

The latter said nothing to that, the two bidding each other one more goodbye before they'd meet back up in the evening. All of the guild's apprentices had a fairly heavy routine of work crossed with their usual studies that wasn't too different from the everyday tasks a squire preformed under a knight. Some young mages attended to their masters regularly while others did simple errands for the guild as a whole—it depended on who one trained under. 

Valda didn't leave the guild often, so the young woman found herself doing several chores on the grounds or helping out around the town. She approached the guild's majordomo at his desk in the entrance hall—a hulking, boar-like monster named Dom—who greeted her with his typical grunt before handing off a list of items for her to pick up at the smith's shop. Thankfully, it wasn't much; mostly just replacement parts needed for everyday tools.

He then handed her a second sheet of paper. "Some information for your mission coming up," he chuffed, "Castellar wanted me to pass it along to you."

"Did he now...?" she murmured, trying not to let her displeasure show on her face. Dom came across as bitter and harsh, but he was as attentive as anyone in his job could be. She didn't want him thinking she was upset with him.

Thankfully, like many, he knew better than to take it personally. "Be careful," he told her to her back as she pocketed the parchment and began to leave.  

How many times was she going to hear that in one day? She gave him a polite grin before stepping out the front doors. One of the golden stars—which she'd learned from her training were referred to as 'save points'—flickered at her from a mere step away.

It took a long time for Ferris to use them again, thanks to her initial attempts to run from the guild, but she'd gone back to her habit of doing so daily—often using this one in-particular. She felt it was too early now though: If she could help it, she liked to time her saves right before bed, when she felt the most certain that she'd done everything right and no harm would come of it.

As tough as Madame Valda could be on her, Ferris was grateful for one thing she hadn't pushed. Even though she could see the stars too, the old woman never forced her to save and reset, to relive her own deaths. She hadn't died once since her poisoning to evade Castellar.

Would that change now, since she was taking on real assignments? Admittedly, the thought of it had her worried. Ferris laughed silently at herself, mocking her own pathetic ideas. In some ways, maybe being here in the Boroughs had made her soft. 

Chapter 7

They hadn't had to pack much. Between Castellar and Ferris both, there were only a couple of blankets and two small bags. They were to stay at the local lord's estate once they'd reached their destination and had more than enough funds to pay for a room at an inn if they really needed to. This would be a far-cry from the long and hard journey they'd taken together as children. 

If only the air around the two was so comfortable... The friction was almost palpable, neither of them so much as greeting each other as they each brought their horses out from the stables and around the front of the guild. Although it was barely daybreak, both of their masters and Ciara were waiting to see them off. Ferris gave the older mages a stern, curious look as they stepped over to talk to Castellar while she approached her sister.

"I won't be long," she said, stroking the young adolescent's hair away from her face, "Promise on a golden flower.” 

While there was no set timeframe for the investigation, they were only headed a couple towns over, not terribly far from their immediate neighbors. Unless something grievous happened, they would only be gone for a little over a week at most.  Still, it would be a lie to say that Ferris herself wasn't somewhat bothered. Other than when Valda had taken her to the human capitol, this would be the first time since their parents had died that she and Ciara would be separated by such a long distance.   

A couple of vials and an equally small pouch were pressed into her hands: Two basic remedies to combat poison and a few, crudely-made pieces of Monster Candy. Ferris blinked at the surprise gift, her mouth drawing in a slight smile a moment after. In contrast, Ciara gave her a serious look, "These are just in case! Don't put yourself in any situation where you have to use them."

"Alright, just in case," Ferris chuffed, giving her a soft pat on the head. Pulling her closer for a hug, she added, "I'll try to bring back a present for you and Gwen."

"I don't need it! You're leaving for a mission, not going on holiday, remember?" 

"When have I not found room for some play?" 

She finished tucking the items away in her bag just as Madame Valda stepped over to join them. The veteran mage repeated what Ferris had already heard countless times preparing for her departure, "Be careful. I'm old: I won't be able to train another apprentice if I lose you now." 

The soft, fond expression she'd given to her sister morphed into a smirk of grim humor, "You know I won't die so easily. Worry over your own health first, you old bat."

Ferris shuffled close to where the save point was. Just subtly brushing it with her hand activated it. As the determination to prove herself swelled in her heart, a familiar grid materialized before her: 

FERRIS LV2
The Boroughs — Arnaud's Guild
Save Return 

While her little sister never looked away from her embrace or showed any other sign of registering the unique magic being used only an arm's length away, her teacher's gaze was not so ignorant. Apparently, those who previously possessed the ability to go back in time were not only fully aware of any changes made to the past, but they could still see the stars even if they could no longer use them. 

As she pulled herself up onto her steed, Ferris felt a pinprick of pain at the base of her neck; an almost electric zap of magic. She looked back over her shoulder to see Valda mocking her with a raised finger, "If you can't defend yourself against that much, I say you still have a thing or two to learn." 

Castellar rode up alongside her next just as Tobius asked the two unwilling partners, "And you have your directions?" It was a worthy concern. Ferris had only read maps in the study while the skeleton was out-of-practice with them. 

The latter's confidence remained unshaken, "I know the way well-enough: Past Warbler's Creek, west of Falchon's station." 

While they were technically headed into the Monster Kingdom, their destination was still practically right next door to neutral ground. Falchon came from a long line of sentries, but was a decent fellow and regularly visited the Boroughs to meet with relatives. It was unlikely that he was a part of the same faction of monsters who had plotted to steal Ferris and her abilities for themselves five years prior. There should be no trouble crossing his territory.

"That's right. You can follow the water for the shortest route."

Saying the last of their goodbyes, the two young mages soon rode off into the dawn. It was a quiet morning, with the rest of the Boroughs only just then waking up. Ferris watched as subtle, grey streams of smoke melted into the parade of soft pinks and violets that rolled across the sky. It would've been a lie to say that every morning for the past five years was this peaceful, but it certainly felt like heaven compared to the nightmare she and Ciara had been living in before. 

Ferris was unprepared for the sudden butterflies that fluttered within her chest. Was she really feeling nervous to leave for only a short while when she'd made so many attempts to escape the Boroughs in the past? When she was arguably one of the strongest mages in the Two Kingdoms? No one could threaten her now. With her power and prophetic talent, she was sure to do well no matter what challenge came her way. 

She peered over at Castellar, who rode only a few steps ahead. Maybe it was his company keeping her on-edge. Yes, she was confident that she could escape him if she had to—even without her ability to go back in time, the gap in their overall strength was almost nonexistent—but she was still surprised that their masters were fine sending them out alone together. 

I suppose it is better to keep up appearances... Ferris pursed her lips. If the members of Arnaud's Guild couldn't keep the peace between each other, then what hope was there for the rest of Ebott? 

A flock of ducks ran past the horses as they neared Warbler's Creek. The Two Kingdoms didn't have many rivers, or at least not many that ran aboveground. However, there were several streams that flowed from them. Warbler's Creek ran directly through the Boroughs from the West before splitting off further in the East. The pair changed course, taking the Guildmaster's advice to follow the water. 

"We should be fine travelling like this for now, but there will be a steep incline ahead," Castellar explained, his gaze never leaving the trail.  

Ferris didn't answer him. 

A part of her wondered if he was in any position to give directions. She didn't know how much he'd travelled in the past, but there was no telling what had changed or what he'd forgotten since his confinement to the Boroughs. Having him lead also left a sour taste in her mouth. 

Encouraging her rouncey forward with a light kick, she cantered past the skeleton. A satisfied grin tugged at her lips when she noticed a thin splatter of mud rise from the ground at the sudden change of pace. It painted across Castellar's lower leg.   

"...No need to illustrate how well you can hold a grudge."

For hours, the pair continued their trek in silence. If they kept their current speed without any stops, they would reach their destination late into the night. If they had to stop, there were plenty of places near the water to do so.

However, trouble came, as was expected. Ferris was the first to sense the danger as they walked by an old bridge. In her mind's eye, she could see red threads completely blocking the way across. Castellar stopped before she could even alert him. He nodded to the clear trail of boots in the soft earth by the water's edge, leading directly under the stone structure. 

Well, they didn't need to cross, but it would only be a moment's delay. No sooner did they begin to move over the bridge, their path was abruptly cut by a trio of rough-looking men who were lurking nearby. Three more appeared from behind soon after. 

"Lookie here, boys! Did we catch a couple of cast-offs or runaway lovers?" one of the bulkier marauders sauntered forward and whistled. "Let's make this nice and easy now, yeah? Get down from the horses, slowly."

Ferris and Castellar gave one another a sidelong glance. Both wore plain cloaks and neither openly carried the tools distinguishable to mages. All things considered, they probably did look rather normal. 

"And, little lady," he continued with a wave of his hand, "why don't you grab those bags for us?"

The young woman sighed through her nose and mutely did as was told. She pulled off the saddle bags and walked carefully toward the first group of marauders. No sooner were the bags in their hands did they begin to tear through them. The leader's hand quickly caught her wrist. 

Just as quickly, it was sliced off.

Ferris' Astral Dagger seemed to sear with an even more furious glow as it cut through flesh and bone in a crimson arc. With the others' hands full, there was no time for them to reach for their weapons: In the same instant that their leader released a bloodcurdling scream, Ferris spun on her heel—firing bullets into one underling and slicing her blade through the throat of the other. She repeated the motion again, a third body falling at her feet. 

It was over in seconds. From the other end of the bridge, Castellar also handled his half of the marauders neatly. The well-trained steeds barely reacted in the face of the carnage. 

There was no place for filth so close to their home.

Chapter 8

Even after the incident with the marauders, the journey was a relatively peaceful one. Ferris and Castellar made it to their destination as expected: Deep into the night, with hardly a soul awake to notice their arrival. Honestly, the two mages preferred it this way. It wouldn't be long before the news spread and every curious eye was drawn toward them.

Hunters Hollow was a far less imposing community than its name suggested. It was only a little larger than the villages that neighbored it, set within a rare piece of grassland. Its architecture consisted mostly of a range of small, scattered cottages built both above and below the earth, the latter of the homes designed to better suit the monsters that inhabited the town. Humans and beastmen—canines, lupines, featherfolk, and arachnes—made up its population, and they seemed make their living through a variety of livestock.

"Do you notice anything odd?" Castellar asked in a low voice, breaking several hours of comfortable silence. 

Too curious of the new environment to remember her anger, Ferris answered, "There isn't much in the way of security."

Nevermind the lack of sentries, traps and puzzles were an inseparable means of defense for the Monster Kingdom. Even the Boroughs had a few of them, granted, they were more often used for training or simple entertainment. For a town like Hunters Hollow, one that was so out in the open, it was strange not to stumble upon any puzzles. 

The skeleton nodded, "Even if Falchon's soldiers do watch the roads in and out of the area, the fact that we were sent here at all means there's trouble. It's concerning that things are so lax."

In the distance, the pair could make out a small castle coming into view—although, calling it that might've been a bit of an exaggeration. While the fortified, stone structure was much more impressive than the cottages that encompassed it, it had been hard to see at first due to how low it was to the ground. Ferris imagined that, if she stood on Castellar's shoulders, she could easily drag herself over the castle's outer wall. Following a cobblestone street, the pair approached the gates and, at last, met the first guard they had seen all night.

"Let me do the talking," Castellar mumbled after they showed off their talismans as proof of identification and were allowed inside. 

Ferris had no intention of listening. She may have lacked experience; however, she had been sent on this mission with equal authority. The skeleton had his means of investigation: She had her own. She would do things her way.

Even for the hour, the castle's interior was eerily dark. Empty sconces lined the halls and the windows were narrow. They were guided by a young arachne by the light of a magic orb. Their own shadows and that of a myriad of fine drapery stretched and morphed around them as they walked.

They passed a stairwell heading down, and Ferris guessed that the castle might be bigger than she initially thought. It was possible that it followed the design of the town's other, den-like homes. Rather than just a cellar or dungeon, the lower levels could possess any number of curious chambers. 

Another thing Ferris noticed were hair-thin wisps of thread that occasionally brushed her side or floated through the air. When she squinted at the ceiling, she found that the supposed drapery was actually a mass of intricate spider webs. Some were as fine as silk and others as thick as wool. All of them were woven in a fascinating network more complicated than any that she had ever seen in nature. 

They soon entered a wide solar room that was somehow even drearier than the passages they came from. On the farthest side stood a fireplace that was as impressive as it was pitiful, left in desperate want of use. In place of tapestries, even more heavy webs decorated the walls. Only a chest, a rectangular table, and four chairs furnished the space.

One of these chairs was occupied. Most arachne had an overall humanoid appearance. The differences between them and humans were limited, but very distinct: A lack of ears or a nose, additional eyes and limbs, and a clear set of fangs. The thin nobleman that sat across from them, fiddling with a bag of marbles, had more spider-like traits. His entire head was that of an arachnid's, his body on the hairier side.  He had three pairs of arms, each ending in a sharp point with long claws in the place of fingers. He stood up as the two mages entered the room, and each of them gave him a small bow in-turn.

"Lord Weaver," Castellar greeted, his tone polite, although not particularly warm, "Thank you for receiving us this late."

"No trouble. I wasn't yet ready to turn in for the night," the arachne answered in a somewhat raspy voice. His mandibles clicked together whenever he spoke, "And... this lady here, is she...?"      

"Another member of Arnaud's Guild, yes," he waved a hand in her direction, "This is Ferris of Mollendale, the crimson mage in-line to be our next Head Seer."

Ferris took another step forward upon her introduction, "It's a pleasure."

"A crimson mage..." Lord Weaver maneuvered around the table, pausing only once at the sound of a marble rolling and hitting the floor before walking up to the young woman. 

While she kept her expression passive, Ferris inwardly bristled at the sudden breach of her space. In that moment, she couldn't help thinking back on what the Guildmaster had told her about Castellar's betrayal: That his attempt to abduct her wasn't just his and his father's scheme, but that of a small faction of monsters who weren't happy that a human had the kind of elusive magic that she did. Very few people knew about it, and even less about her identity, but there were still plenty of influential enemies after her power. Was Lord Weaver one of them? He and Castellar already seemed to know each other, and having an ally so close to the Boroughs would've been helpful.   

However, from what Ferris could tell, Lord Weaver only seemed to have a mere fascination in her. He was so close that she could almost pick up a musty scent off from him. His beady, bespeckled gaze was locked steadily on her own. 

"So those are crimson eyes," he hummed approvingly, "Yours are beautiful, young Ferris. Yes, like twin rubies."  

Again, Ferris didn't allow her calm expression to break, "You've never met a seer before?'

"I'm afraid not.  Only a few humans can use magic in Hunters Hollow." 

Castellar moved closer to Ferris' side in a subtle attempt to brush the other monster back a step. "That may have changed recently, if the reports are anything to go by. As you know, we've received news of mage hunters travelling near this territory. We'd appreciate any information you might share with us."  

In either of the Two Kingdoms, the trafficking of mages was illegal only on paper. In reality, more than half of Ebott's mages existed through this practice. Many of them were humans whose powers had awakened during their childhood, since they were less able to control their sudden abilities. Families either too poor to care for another mouth to feed or too scared to raise a mage might sell their young relatives into indentured servitude. Those souls then typically found themselves either working for a guild or directly under lord—often staying in that service in exchange for the security that was provided. 

Mage hunters, however, were more likely to practice blatant slavery. Their targets extended to monsters or hybrids, and there were little to no ethics regarding their clientele. Guilds still bought fledgling mages from them, but so did some of the vilest creatures under the mountain—demons in human and monster skin alike.

People in the Boroughs took this practice more seriously than others. It wasn't uncommon for Arnaud's members to travel to other regions to take such criminals down, particularly when it involved shipping victims across the borders. Beyond it being a simple matter of duty, it was a matter of pride for a sect of mages who valued their autonomy above all else. 

"You'll want to speak with Falchon on the matter, not me," Lord Weaver explained, "His soldiers were the ones who spotted the traffickers in the area."

"He's here?"

"He's staying at the farm furthest east of here. I imagine he'll come by again tomorrow."

"Then we should find a place to retire ourselves and regroup first thing in the morning."

"No, if you please; I already had rooms prepared for you both. I wouldn't be able to properly show my face to your father otherwise, Castellar. My niece can show you the way."

He motioned to the arachne that had guided them in. Still standing behind them, the girl was so silent that Ferris had forgotten that she was even there. While almost as tall as herself, her plain, gentle features made Ferris believe that she was closer to Ciara’s age. She looked more like the typical arachne the young woman had previously encountered, with deep blue skin and shimmering black eyes and hair.  The girl gave them a meek nod.

Castellar eyed her for a moment, then answered, “Then we welcome your hospitality.”

Before parting ways, Ferris caught herself at the door. She looked over her shoulder in time to see Lord Weaver lean down to pick up the runaway marble, holding himself up against the table.

“Even if you haven’t had trouble with mage hunters before, you should consider organizing a watch,” she said, “at least until we clear the matter on our end.”

She could feel Castellar scowl at her audacity, fighting the urge to smile. If Lord Weaver was offended by her remark, however, he didn’t show it. With a slight tilt of his head, he clicked his mandibles together thoughtfully, “Yes, I’ll see what I can do.”

They never ventured down into the lower levels. The halls they walked through were much the same as the ones they’d entered from. After spending so much time with the skeleton, even though their rooms were right next to each other, Ferris felt at greater ease once she was able to close the door behind her.

Other than the fact that the window was wider, allowing more moonlight to enter from the outside, the room was almost the same as every other in the castle. There were webs everywhere in-place of fabrics. Even the bedsheets appeared to be made of a kind of spider’s silk.  

Some people actually favored the material. Ferris tried not to think about how it might’ve been made.

Left to her own thoughts, the young woman reflected on what she had experienced so far. She wasn’t afraid of spiders. Some were excellent spies or watched over the guild at night. Before that, she’d already gotten used to sleeping outside with all sorts of creepies and crawlies. The only thing that bothered her was that she couldn’t always tell which ones were monsters and which ones were genuine arachnids.

Yet there was something about the castle that did unnerve her—something she hadn’t noticed at first. It seemed to be filled with whispers. The tiny voices of such miniscule monsters were something she had gotten used to, but these seemed to echo through every dark crevice of this place. She took a careful look around the room, checking for red threads as well, and gratefully found herself alone.

She looked out the window. The stables weren’t far off, and as Ferris peered at the small building, she briefly wondered how the horses were doing. Were they resting well after the day-long trek? Should she have tended to her steed personally rather than have entrusted her to the stableboy? Maybe she’d feel more comfortable staying with her tonight.

Only two things kept her from wandering outside: She didn’t want to make too bad of an impression on their host and there was something even more important with her in the room.

FERRIS LV2
Hunters Hollow — Weaver Castle
Save Return   

She still didn’t understand why the save points appeared where they did. Some were more convenient than others. When she had asked Madame Valda about it, her teacher hadn’t really known either. All she could say was that a few of them, like the one by the guild’s entrance, appeared for her as well. Their predecessors had tried to dedicate the save points to a map, but the placement of the stars was often unique to each generation.

“They appear where you need them,” was Valda’s final stance on the matter, “at least, that’s what I‘d like to believe. Be it fate, or fortune, or providence, or if they are somehow summoned by us unconsciously, I can’t think of one time where they felt out-of-place.”  

After hearing that, Ferris discovered that she felt much the same. Over time, she stopped wondering where the next save point would manifest and instead came to trust that she would stumble across one eventually. 

The save point’s bright glow offered her no warmth. Still, it was nevertheless welcomed. Reaching into a pouch at her waist, Ferris pulled out a dry ration to munch on as she wriggled out of her boots and crawled beneath the bedsheets.

Chapter 9

The dreams still came to her.

 According to Madame Valda, dream prophecies were one of the talents any crimson mage could possess. It was a subconscious use of their already innate abilities, without control or direction. No one ever chose what they saw or when said events had or would take place, or if they even did at all. Some seers could only hear voices or brief glimpses into time.

Ferris' might've felt less random, but they remained as vivid as ever. She stood in a silent, dimly-lit forest blanketed by a layer of freshly fallen snow. Barren, monolithic trees stood on either side of a long path before eventually giving way to a landscape of rich evergreens. Despite the cold and the quiet, there was a part of her that found the location to be undeniably beautiful. 

Whatever tranquility she felt was overcast by a strange sense of foreboding. A familiar child approached her from a distance, crossing a deep gap in the earth through a wooden gate. Ferris assumed it was a gate anyway, although the beams were too wide to stop anyone. Bundled against the chilly air, the child approached it from the other side with a nervous look

A heavy-set figure followed after them, a skeleton Ferris also recognized from previous visions. He appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Initially moving with a stride as mute as the snowfall itself, as the child froze in place near the gate, each step of his that followed grew loud and purposeful.

"Human," his voice rumbled, "Don't you know how to greet a new pal? Turn around and shake my hand."

While she didn't appreciate the obvious scare tactic, she couldn't exactly feel much sympathy for the child either—even if they did remind her so much of Ciara. There were too many conflicting timelines, each one portraying them in an entirely different light. In some, the child seemed as innocent as a dove; in others, as vicious as a demon; and in more, almost empty, devoid of any nature. It was difficult to get a read on them. 

Seeing the skeleton, however, the young woman felt little beyond unease and disgust—even now, when he treated their whole interaction like some kind of jest. It wasn't that Ferris had witnessed him do anything nefarious, or at least she thought not: It was the look in his eyes that repulsed her, the way they constantly gauged for some kind of reaction or another. They were eyes that claimed to know everything, yet said nothing. They were self-assured in a pretentious way, ever waiting to be proven right about another person's supposed wrongs. 

Whatever these dreams meant to show her, she couldn't afford to care about them. She already had her own numbskull to deal with.

---

Bang, bang, bang!

A harsh rapping on the door woke her up. The young woman rubbed her face and stared at the unfamiliar ceiling, waiting a minute for her mind to catch up to reality. 

"Come on, Ferris! There's work to be done!" 

The young woman took an exasperated breath. It didn't surprise her that Castellar came to give her a wake-up call. If it weren't for the matter being so urgent, she might've ignored him. That, and she'd promised their masters that she would try to be professional...

It didn't take her long to get ready. She'd slept with her hair tied and threw on the same tunic that she'd worn the day before. Nevertheless, the skeleton gave her a disapproving look at the sight of her bedhead. For both of their sakes, he said nothing.

Even during the day, much of the castle was covered in shadows. Thin shafts of sunlight guided their path to the front entrance, which opened out into a blinding morning. Ferris noticed even more livestock than when they'd first arrived: Not only sheep, goats, chickens, and horses, but snails, spiders, and grasshoppers as well.

The bug variety didn't surprise her. There were plenty of dishes from the Monster Kingdom that used them, which had naturally made their way to the Boroughs as well. It was just that not everyone shared the same taste for them, so they were usually kept off of Arnaud's menu. The arachne that kept watch over the guild seemed to love such snacks, and Ferris had learned over time that they weren't against the occasional bribe.  

Sometimes, she wondered if they were too content to eat real spiders... 

Because of the many underground homes, Hunters Hollow looked scarcely populated; however, this only gave the town more room for farming and pasture. Nearly path they walked was lined with stone fences. It was a strange, yet idyllic scene.  

Perhaps the grim news of mage hunters in the area was being kept under wraps, because the townsfolk went on about their day without a care. The preparations for a harvest celebration were in full-swing, which made the young woman reflect on all of the work being carried out in the Boroughs right then for their own festivities. What stalls would there be this year? What performers, what food? Would anything tempt Ciara to join her this time? 

As Ferris continued to gaze at the scenery, she felt another set of eyes on herself. She looked to her right and found Castellar also concentrating on their surroundings. Other than sheep, there was no one else. Since the eyes on her neither felt dangerous or prodding, she shrugged the feeling off.

Falchon and his men stood at a crossroads at the end of the town, where the pastures abruptly met with a thick woodland. Despite his middling years, his feathers were still vibrant and he had a strong, proud figure. A leather chest plate—bearing the emblem of the Monster Kngdom—was strapped across his torso, with thicker armor protecting his lower-half. Twin falchion blades, suited to his name, were hidden under the shade of his large wings.

“Good to see you two, though I wish it were under better circumstances,” he chirped, his voice then turning a little playful, “Castellar, the Royal Guard’s missed opportunity, and Ferris, no longer a child, but a fine lady. How could you both grow so much in just a year?”     

The young woman brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face, “Hello to you too, Falchon. How is Parakite doing?”

“Very well! She’s got another egg on the way. And, uh… Halbird isn’t still causing trouble, is he?”

“He still refuses to retire. Will you have another talk with him?”

“Don’t blame me. He’s a stubborn, old fool, that one.”

The light banter helped to put the more nervous members of Falchon’s team at ease. For monsters—who magic came to as naturally as breathing—the life of a mage was just a curious, intellectual path. It was human mages which seemed unnatural, and those from guild’s as reputable as Arnaud’s were regularly treated with a level of caution. Even as close as the nearby towns were to the Boroughs, it was possible that a few of the sentries had met an Arnaud mage only in passing.  

Better strange looks than stones thrown your way, she thought with a tiny smile. This was nothing compared to the life she lived before her magic manifested.

“Tell us again what happened here,” Castellar instructed, “I take it this is where the hunters were caught?”

At once, the playfulness in Falchon’s tone faded, “Yes, it was a small group: Four mage hunters—three humans, one cyclops monster—but only one mage, a boy. He’s safe.”

“And the criminals?”

“Dead. Two fell in-battle. We think the other two poisoned themselves after capture.”

“You think?”

The sentry shrugged, “None of us know how to check the bodies.”

Ferris was already tallying the list of chores ahead of her. Briefly examining the area, she noticed clear signs of a struggle. The grass was singed in places and there were broken plants. If her powers of psychometry were stronger, it’d be easy to get a full picture of the scene. However, for whatever reason, she had always been better at drawing visions from people rather than places or objects and of the future rather than the past.

She turned back to Falchon, “Where’s the kid now?”

“We sent him home. The Clary Guild was already asked to find him.”

While that didn’t do their investigation any favors, at least the boy was safe. He had a place to return to, and from what Ferris knew of them, the members of Clary were trustworthy. They were a much smaller guild than Arnaud, known for being deeply devote to both their faith and their studies. She’d never heard of them having bad blood with anyone anyway.

“Did you preserve the hunters’ bodies?”

The soldiers blinked in shock at her macabre question. Right, they probably didn’t think to, even if there had been any ice elementals among them.

“I was hoping to check them for signs of poisoning,” she explained, “but I guess not.”

Castellar gave her an even more critical stare than he had earlier. Friction passed between them, but not the words to match. He sighed deeply, “Ferris, you should stay here and see if there’s anything more you can learn. I’ll check around. Falchon, if you and your team would—”

“Say no more,” the avian lifted a wing to stop him, “Bullista, stay here and protect Ferris. The rest of you, follow Castellar’s orders as closely as you would mine.”  

The group split up, leaving Ferris with a female canine in a thick coat of armor. The pair exchanged simple greetings before getting to work. Bullista stood underneath the shade of a nearby tree while Ferris sat on the ground and tried to meditate. She closed her eyes.

Follow the red thread.

Unlike with the winding, untold paths of the future, deciphering the past was, in a sense, much easier. Without an outside influence, it was singular, clear, unchanged. Again though, this kind of psychometry was never Ferris’ expertise. Madame Valda described it to her as a form of appraisal magic exclusive to crimson mages—it allowed them to ‘check’ history.  For Ferris though, it always seemed to require an immense degree of concentration.   

It's because you hardly ever stop to look back, her mentor had once teased her, You don’t feel sentiment or regret. You love to linger in the here and now and only concern yourself with what threatens your present.  Oh, what to do with you, my carefree, willful student?

The more she struggled, the more she could feel her cheeks burn. It was as though Madame Valda was right there, mocking her with those same words…

Eventually, Ferris was able to see something: A group of mage hunters and their young victim arriving at the crossroads in the dead of night. The vision matched what Falchon had told them. Aside from the child, who couldn’t have been older than four, there were three humans and one monster. The latter looked like a member of the noble Eyewalker family, but she doubted there was any relation.

“Are we almost there?” asked one of the hunters.

“Yes,” another answered bitterly, scooping their surroundings, “Now hush! We can’t get caught after coming all this way.”

“The brat bit me! I want this over with as much as you!”

“As long as the pay’s good…”

“It’s better than good,” answered the cyclops, flashing his sharp teeth, “Just remember that there’s more in it for us so long as we keep quiet—and don’t forget my cut. Trust me, I’ve done five jobs through here already.”

A wave of hesitation momentarily passed over the others.

“Ours might not be polite work, but no honest person says it ain’t popular. Why all the secrecy?”

“If that was my job to know, I would, but who cares. A mage is a mage. What happens to the little abomination is none of my business.”

“Who’s there?!”

What happened next also matched Falchon’s story. A sentry patrolling the adjacent road spotted them. Panicking, one of the hunters attacked him almost instantly. The sentry was able to defend himself for a while, long enough for others to see the magic bullets he fired into the air and rush to the scene. Two of the kidnappers, including the cyclops, were killed in the fight, and the other pair was subdued soon after.

Ferris wished that the conversation had gone on for a little longer, but there were still a few clues to glean from what she did hear. The vision itself couldn’t have last for more than a few minutes, yet when she looked up at the sky, she found that the sun nearly reached its center. A couple hours had passed. She called Bullista over and the two ventured off to join their companions with the rest of the investigation.   

Chapter 10

The group spent the entire day scouring Hunters Hollow for information; however, aside from a couple of townspeople saying that they'd seen a cyclops similar to the one in Ferris' vision passing through a few times before, they didn't dig up much more than what Falchon already reported. They didn't know where he came or went, and they certainly hadn't seen him with any mages. 

That didn't really surprise Castellar or Ferris. He'd seemed to be the sort to broker deals between kidnappers and their clients rather than one to do any of the kidnapping himself. The band he'd been working with this last time was so cautious, maybe he'd been forced to play a more active role than usual. The sentries that patrolled nearby were too few and far between. Maybe he hadn't known when to expect them to appear.

In any case, the fates had been kind enough to let him and his ilk finally be caught. Now, if only they could track down who hired them...

In the end, Falchon and his team had to leave to resume their usual duties and the two mages had to return to Castle Weaver before sundown. A rich spread was waiting for them in the dining hall, along with their hosts. Sitting under the soft glow of candlelight were fruits, fritters, and stuffed game; a warm cider and vegetable pottage; olives, cheeses and jams for bread—a small feast most welcome after a long day's work with hardly anything on their stomachs. Given the chance to indulge, Ferris could barely contain herself. She doubted every job would be like this.

She focused on her plate, giving Castellar nearly full rein of their report. Her biggest contribution to the discussion was describing the vision she'd seen. As the recited the words that had passed between the group of hunters, the noble shook his head. 

"I never would've thought this would happen," he lamented in his raspy voice, "not in my hometown..."

Castellar allowed him only a second to mourn over the bleak circumstances, "Lord Weaver, as we discussed yesterday, it couldn't hurt to mobilize an active watch. Even if other hunters fail to appear, the citizens will start to get restless."

"My people are farmers," he shook his head, "not fighters." 

"It's just a precaution. We'll remain in town for another day or so to finish our investigation. Ferris and I can take turns keeping watch during the night. In the meantime, please consider who should bear the task after us. Ask for volunteers if you need to, or send a letter to the Royal Guard requesting for an increase in sentries. They'll help." 

Again, Lord Weaver was reluctant, “I have no doubts in the Guard, but why would they send anyone to a small town like this? So close to the Kingdom of Humans, no less… What if it seems that we’re gathering our forces against them—what if we’re taken as a threat?”

“Then you’ll have the Arnaud Guild to speak on your behalf.”

Given that argument, no matter how uncertain he still felt, the noble had to give in with a slow nod. 

As a brief moment's silence passed between them, Ferris glanced over the rim of her cup at the arachne girl—who had yet to say a single word for the entire meal. While Ferris didn't fully understand the customs of every breed of monster, she'd heard whispers in Blue Moon's that arachne females were a terrifying sort. They could be charmingly aloof, but also incredibly viscous, much like the behaviors of true spiders. This one was the farthest thing from that. Rather than aloof, she seemed almost shy or detached.  

There was some other, bothersome thing about her that the crimson mage couldn't put her finger on. Something that reminded her too much of herself... However, without anything to base her suspicions on, Ferris had to let the matter go. She helped herself to a fritter next.

Lord Weaver tilted his head, clicking at her, “I'm glad you seem to enjoy the food, young Ferris. Not many humans appreciate arachne cuisine.”

"It's wonderful," Ferris replied, all while trying not to give him a strange look. She took a second glance down at the fritter in her hand, not noticing anything particularly off about it. It tasted of honey and almonds, with a bit of a meatier flavor she couldn't quite place. None of the other dishes seemed out of the ordinary either, no more than usual anyway. 

Castellar took an uncharacteristically loud sip of cider. Glancing over, she noticed him tapping the side of his cup with his pinky. She peered into her own drink. She hadn't paid much attention to the black specs floating in it at first, believing them to be just ordinary sediments from the apples it was made from. Now, she noticed that they were larger than she initially thought. She tilted the drink toward the light to see them in greater detail, only then understanding what the meal’s main ingredient was.

Spiders, of course.

She kept eating.  Food was still food, after all, and she wasn't one to complain.

The noble continued to try to shift the conversation onto a lighter topic, “Speaking of the Royal Guard, have you truly no plans to return home, Castellar? Your family has long protected the borders.”

The young woman swallowed hard, giving the skeleton another sidelong glance. As far as she knew, the only people aware that Tobius intended to pass the title of Guildmaster over to him were their masters and themselves. There was no knowing how heavy the backlash would be if that was revealed too early. To Lord Weaver, it must’ve appeared that Castellar had overstayed for his studies. Now that Castellar was a full-fledged mage, however, it wouldn’t be long before he and others grew suspicious.

Castellar answered in a calm, unflinching tone, “I have always been more interested in scholarly pursuits, and my father has not yet called for me. I trust that my siblings can protect our territory.”

“But what of your future? You are not a boy any longer, but a man and a nobleman at that. I trust your fascination in books and grimoires hasn’t caused you to overlook your duties.”

The arachne gave Ferris a pleading look, as if asking her to be a voice of reason and take his side.

The young woman hid her annoyance with a pleasant smile, “You’re right, Lord Weaver. He is a man, meaning he can decide for himself. As taken as our teachers are with him, who would we be if we were to keep such a talent chained?”

She felt a large boot crudely step on her own beneath the table.

“My duty,” the skeleton cleared his throat, “is to preserve the peace between the Two Kingdoms. Whether I serve with my family at the borders or continue to stay in the Boroughs, I can still give my all to that purpose.”

Another fifteen minutes would pass before supper ended. Lord Weaver suggested that they all give their food time to digest by playing a few rounds of marbles, but the two young mages politely refused. Instead, the pair made their way back toward the front gates to decide who would watch the streets first. Castellar called for his horse, then pulled Ferris aside—away from any webs and their curious dwellers—to speak with her in private.       

“Where’s your head at?” he demanded, “Picking fights in front of Lord Weaver and his niece? Asking monsters if you can examine week-old remains?”

“I would’ve said you picked the fight,” she fussed back, tapping her now scuffed boot, “And you and I have both seen our share of horrors, Cas. One or two bodies is nothing.”

 He visibly bristled, “Maybe, but you shouldn’t flaunt it. There’s such a thing as decorum.”

“Who cares for your prim and proper nonsense!”

 “You represent the guild! You need be wiser with your words!”

“And what about you, Future Guildmaster?” she placed her hands on her hips, “Who do you represent?! Because maybe you should decide on that before you go scolding me!”

They reached a stalemate: They stared each other down, fuming at one another in silence. It went on for so long that the servant had almost returned with Castellar’s horse before the skeleton halfway relented.

“We’ve both seen much,” he sighed, “but others haven’t. That’s a good thing. And there are many sights just as awful as hanged men and a burned town, Ferris. You shouldn’t act so haughty if you aren’t braced to witness them.”

She felt her cheeks turn red. It wasn’t his questioning her experience that offended her so much as the particular examples he’d given. She didn’t get the chance to bark another protest as he jumped onto his steed and prepared to go.

“I’ll return at midnight and we can switch off. Rest well.”

He left her with those parting words. Even more angered that he had left before she could get out another sentence, she kicked the dirt and prepared to return to her home. She’d only just stepped back inside the castle when she spotted the arachne girl waiting for her. The adolescent curtsied.

Once again, an uncomfortable feeling tickled at Ferris. She wasn’t used to this kind of exchange, and while it was hard to get an Arnaud mage to answer to anyone, it seemed wrong for the child to treat her this way. Even if most of the monster nobility had a lax sense of formalities compared to human nobles, they still had some sense of hierarchy. This degree of respect was beyond unnecessary.

“What’s your name?” the young woman asked.

The girl flinched, as if she hadn’t actually expected the other to talk to her, then answered, “Meadow Weaver, miss… I’m here to help you back to your room.”

“Meadow Weaver,” Ferris echoed. She took a step forward and crossed her arms over her chest, “Straighten that back. You were given that name for a reason. I don’t care to know about your family troubles, but you are a mistress here, not a servant. And do not think I’m so incapable that I can’t remember how to walk through a few hallways.”

She moved past the arachne, not sparing her a second glance. The last thing Ferris saw was the girl’s double sets of eyes widen into a blank expression. To herself, it appeared that a rope had been cut; a mental image that pleased the young woman greatly. What the child would do with that rope was up to her and her alone.

Ferris heard footsteps shuffle a few paces behind her, but paid them no mind. Aside from the typical whispers that were heard throughout the castle, everything was quiet.

Back in her room, Ferris wearily plopped onto the bed. She didn’t bother to lie down or take off her shoes just yet, too wound up from the day’s events to get any sleep. She took a moment to reflect once more on the scant bits of information they had gathered, trying to think of anything they might have missed.

The hunters had emphasized secrecy. That went without question for anyone conducting nefarious dealings, but for it to be such an issue that their client was willing to pay extra just to ensure their silence… It had to be someone with power. Plenty of nobles made the list. Wealthy merchants were a possibility too; maybe someone who wanted to buy mages for their entertainment or someone from one of their rival nations who had a sick fanaticism toward anyone with magic. There were other waterways besides Warbler’s Creek, and it wasn’t a long journey to Ebott’s western shores from here—maybe another few days, following the main roads.

Ferris meditated over it for so long that her head began to throb. Giving up, she considered lighting a clock candle to time Castellar’s return, but just as quickly thought against it. The slight tap of a nail hitting a tray as the wax melted probably wouldn’t wake her. The skeleton could do it instead.

Just as she had made up her mind to retire, there was a knock at her door.

Chapter 11

Ferris peered outside of the room. A small arachne hung from a thread before her. They pointed at the floor before climbing up toward the ceiling and disappearing back into the shadows. When she looked down, there was a steaming cup of cider sitting near her feet.

One of the two Weavers must’ve ordered this. Was it a genuine show of goodwill though or were they only teasing her? A corner of Ferris’ mouth tugged softly upward. It really didn’t matter. She would accept it nonetheless.

The heat from the cup was soothing in itself, fighting off the autumn chill that had begun to seep into the room after dark. Ferris brought the drink to her lips, but just as quickly pulled them away from the scalding liquid.

I don’t think Ciara would consider spider cider much of a gift… she thought to herself, reflecting on the promise she’d made to her sister. For a moment, Ferris thought of purchasing some to bring back to the Boroughs anyway. In the very least, it’d be funny to see Ciara’s reaction before giving her a real present.

Another minute passed before she tried to take another sip.

One sip was all it took. Her lips had already begun to tingle from the first time they’d touched the drink—not from the heat, but distinctly from something within the mixture itself. Panic overwhelming her, Ferris threw the cup across the room and jumped up from her seat.

It had been a long time since she’d last been poisoned. Madame Valda encouraged her to continue to learn how to identify dangerous plants and other substances, but actually trying to build any kind of immunity was out of the question. Since her experience with dephnell, Ferris had only been poisoned once; by the members of a rival guild that had tried to take her away. While they had attacked her with a spell, this was a similar, paralyzing feeling. Her throat and tongue also began to sting.

Reaching for her bag, she tore through its contents. Her fingers latched around the various vials her little sister had given her. Much to her relief, one of them was an emetic. No matter how small of an amount of poison she’d ingested, it wasn’t worth the risk.

Bless Ciara! Whatever she’d swallowed came up almost as quickly as it went down. Kneeling on the floor, Ferris jerked a nearby urine pot in front of her and heaved. Already, her mind was leaping to what her next course of action needed to be.

The save point! It was a phenomenon not one of her or Valda’s predecessors had ever been able to explain, but other than the power to hold their place in time, the stars also had some healing affect. The young woman practically tripped across room, landing in front of the star in a crouch. The same, familiar letters danced across her vision as she wiped the barf from her mouth.

FERRIS LV2
Hunters Hollow — Weaver Castle
Save Return 

She gasped for breath. Her HP hadn’t been affected to begin with. Parts of her body still tingled, but she blamed the worst of her physical symptoms on her efforts to stop the poison. Whether the star relieved any of them or not, the act of saving in itself made her feel better. As she took stock of herself and calmed down, a depressing thought occurred to her.

What a waste of perfectly good food…

Ferris knew this was no time to mourn over her ruined supper. Whoever sent the poison meant to incapacitate her, not kill her, meaning that they likely would come for her soon enough. She slumped the rest of the way onto the floor, going perfectly still with the eyes sealed shut.

Let them come, she resolutely decided, already having some idea of who her attacker could be. She would get the jump on them and uncover the reason behind this treachery.

She only worried about the strong scent of vomit that now pervaded the air. There was no way to open the window to try to clear the stench. They would notice it. Since it was coming from the urine pot, however, maybe they wouldn’t give it any thought. Because of their typical diets, the idea of passing much of anything was a foreign, if not outright disgusting, concept to plenty of monsters. Maybe they wouldn’t think to check.

Five minutes, ten minutes, twenty minutes passed before she heard footsteps approaching. They stopped in front of her room. There was a pause, a whisper, and then the door creaked open. The footsteps resumed and then stopped by her side.

Another anxious minute passed before she was lifted over someone’s shoulder—a man’s, from what she could tell. She was carried out, through the halls and then, to her intrigue, down the stairs to the castle’s lower, underground levels.

Ferris’ unwitting captor handled her with a surprising amount of care. Another stairwell and two doors later, she was carefully placed flat on her back on some cold, metal surface. There was no telltale clank of cuffs or chains—which would’ve instantly forced her into action—but the feeling of tight cords holding her in-place. Her head, in-particular, was given special attention.

“Did you know, young Ferris,” Lord Weaver’s distinct voice broke the silence, “there’s a rumor that Fraktur was once after a seer from Arnaud’s? I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to ask him, but if it’s true, I wonder what price he’d pay after I’ve taken what I want from you.”

Something sharp lightly poked her in the forehead and stroked down to the bridge of her nose. The young woman fought to keep still.

“A seer is only as useful as their visions, after all.”

There was a shuffling sound next and she risked partially opening her eyes. Except for a lantern, which the noble carried with him, the room was pitch black. She couldn’t make out much of anything except the reflection of metal and glass and his own, lanky shape. Ferris resisted the urge to attack him there and then as the arachne crossed the cramped space and peered cautiously out the door.

“I will only be a moment,” he said, before disappearing into the unknown passage.

No sooner had his footsteps vanished, she summoned a cascade of orange magic to wash over her. The temperature of her body dramatically rose, yet she remained unharmed as the fiery blitz ate at the bonds. Once loosened, Ferris snapped them the rest of the way and flung herself off the metal table she’d been stretched upon. The magic that had blossomed out of her was drawn back into the palm of her hand as a source of light.

At first glance, the room she now found herself in could’ve been called either a laboratory or a torture chamber. Cruel tools glistened from their positions on the walls. On the side across from where she’d been laying, there was a long counter with several shelves stacked above it. Along these shelves were countless glass containers whose contents she couldn’t make out without stepping closer.

Some of the contents looked similar to the ingredients the guild used in their own laboratory. Others looked straight back at her. There were several small jars filled with carefully preserved eyes. They were organized by color, every set one of the seven vivid hues that only those with the potential for magic possessed.

As sickened as Ferris was by the discovery, there was another haunting question that needed an answer: Where were the bodies? There was no way that Lord Weaver could’ve hidden a crime of this scale so well for so long, even if he managed to get all of Hunters Hollow to somehow go along with it. After the awful procedure was done, did he just sell the blind mages as he mentioned considering to do with her, or were they—?

She heard a whisper. Spinning around on her heel, she squinted in the dark and noticed the common, tiny arachne watching her from the ground. As they caught one another’s’ gazes, the spiders attempted to flee through the bottom of the door, likely with the intention of alerting their master.

Ferris crushed them without a second thought, racing out into the hall herself without any sense of direction. It didn’t occur to her to remember which way she’d been carried from. She wasn’t even sure if her goal should’ve been to escape. All she knew was that she needed to leave that room.

She ran down one hall and turned into the next, the whispers that had always echoed throughout the castle turning into viscous screeches all around her. A wave of black and purple dots scuttled down the walls to block her path. She changed the shape of her fiery spell once more and threw it straight at them, left to charge steadfast into the shadows.

The lack of clarity was dizzying. She braced herself as she ran into a wall, slid her fingers across its surface to collect her bearings, and then changed direction. This action repeated over and over, only broken by the occasional blast of another spell as she fought through thick webs and attempted to keep more of the arachne at bay.

And then she fell. The floor suddenly vanished from beneath her. Ferris cried out before she hit the level below, landing on something soft that burst beneath her foot with a nasty squelch. The unknown material caused her to stumble. She gagged at the thick smell of rot that flooded her senses.

She didn’t have long to adjust. She was not alone.

She could hear it. Something large moved in the dark. As it did, the ground too shifted underneath her. Above, the scurrying of her pursuers had stopped. It was as though the arachne themselves were too terrified of whatever lurked down there with her to attempt to give further chase.

Whatever it was merely circled her. Ferris sensed it move from one side of the undefined space to the next, then it stopped. It seemed curious to find that another living creature had invaded its domain.

Ferris didn’t want to give it the chance to act first. She wasn’t afraid to give away her position, as it seemed to already know where she was. She summoned another bright bolt of magic into her hands, ready and waiting to see if the figure would strike. Seeing this though, it retreated further into the darkness—the only sight of it she caught being a massive, arachnoid leg.

Safe for now, Ferris looked down. A heavy layer of webs surrounded her, but half-buried within them were countless bodies to match the jars of eyes she’d seen earlier. They were all of different cloths, different ages, and different stages of decay. The only things they shared were their vacant sockets and half-devoured remains.

It was one of the few, rare times in her life that Ferris could not contain a scream.

Chapter 12

It was like ringing the dinner bell. Her horror seemed to shed the creature of its own. In an instant, the goliath lunged across the chamber and dove straight for her.

Spitting a curse through her teeth, Ferris shot at the creature, but not before catching it in all of its terrifying glory. It was not a true arachne, or any other breed of monster from what she could tell.  Its eyes were empty and it didn’t even have the correct number of legs.  It looked to be some kind of automaton, a mesh of earth and rock and fungi. What created it?! Was it animated through magic or possessed by someone else?

How anyone could’ve fabricated it was beyond the mage. Why was clear: Disposal.

Since it wasn’t a living being, there was no telling if it would stay down if she continued to try to fight it. Even if there was still a horde of spiders waiting for her, she had to find a way back up! Ferris summoned a few bullets in a protective arch around herself and leapt across the mess. In the almost nonexistent light, she could just barely make out the sight of protrusions jutting out of the wall.

She fought to envision that her body was far lighter than it actually was, scrambling to focus on both the magic that partially shielded her and the blue spell she tried to envelop around her own soul. Castellar could do it, the Guildmaster could do it—even one of the blasted minstrels that treated a mage’s life as some kind of great game did it! She could do it, climbing over roofs and treetops, but this was not just a simple exercise.

One of the bullets erupted as a leg shot toward her, catching it in her place. Bits of stone hit her body and the heat of the detonation singed her jaw. She pulled herself up, trying to ignore the rust-colored prints of hands that had tried to do the very same long before her.

It was nearly impossible to keep her focus. All she could think of was the automaton at her back.

It hesitated to attack her a third time. At least it apparently had some sense of self-preservation. She would already have died if it didn’t. A deranged giggle left her. How dare she think of that now?! Now that she knew how to expose Lord Weaver’s crimes, the simple and smart choice was to let this thing kill her and catch the noble the moment he entered her room.

However, she couldn’t will herself to do it. Just as she thought, clearly, she’d gotten too comfortable in recent years. She thought she was experienced enough that the idea of dying no longer concerned her, but the idea of being caught in that abomination’s maw and ending up like the bodies below terrified her too much.

Another strained laugh rippled out. How unfair was that, when her pain would only last a moment? Ferris offered a mute apology to the deceased and kept climbing.

She pulled herself level to where she’d fallen. There was no easy way across. She had to jump. Her right arm felt like it would pop out of its socket as she landed harshly against the edge of the drop. She clawed at the floor, not quite able to lift her torso past the threshold. Something sharp snagged her leg.

Something else snagged her arm. Fine, violet threads laced around the lower half of the limb and dragged her to safety, but her relief barely lasted a second. The next thing Ferris knew, those same cords flung her into one wall and then the next—like a child haphazardly playing with a yo-yo. Ferris was able to burn through them similarly to the bonds that had held her in the laboratory, but collapsed to the ground as the world raced to catch up with her. She could barely see straight.

“I didn’t think you’d pretend to be caught. That was a bold move.”

Familiar footsteps moved toward her in the dark. A thousand tiny legs scuttled to either side of the hall as Lord Weaver stepped forward.

“But you should’ve known better than to walk directly into a spider’s web, young Ferris. And since you have come this far, I will be taking my prize.”

Ferris opened her mouth to hurl the first of many obscenities at the noble when two, pin-prick lights caught her attention. Noticing that her gaze had shifted past him, the arachne looked over his shoulder.

Another light appeared, this time in the shape of a splintered bone. Castellar appeared from the shadows, holding the weapon firmly by his side. His hardened stare lingered on Ferris for only a moment before landing on the other noble, who he commanded in a steady, yet menacing tone, “Lord Weaver, step away from my colleague right now.”

Given the chance, Ferris pushed herself back onto her feet. She checked her HP, which had dropped close to half. She couldn’t bring herself to care to wonder why Castellar was there—when he should’ve still been out on patrol. For the moment, she was just glad to catch her breath.

The arachne glanced between the pair, taking stock of his own bad luck. He was trapped. Slowly, he lifted his arms as he turned around to face the skeleton completely, “We can speak with reason, can’t we, Castellar?”

The latter took another few steps toward him, “I do not barter with sinners.”

“Is it true that your father wants the girl?”

While the arachne asked his question in an unfazed tone, the air grew tense. The young woman scoffed, hardly believing that this is what the situation had come to: She and the guild’s traitor forced to unite to snag a criminal only for the latter to offer her capture in exchange for his own. Oh, how everything had come back full circle!

Tobius and Madame Valda both promised her that Castellar would never betray them again. Even if he tried to, there was no way he would get away with it. Too many powerful people knew about his and his father’s deceit. She herself had grown too strong to be brought down easily. He wouldn’t dare make the same mistake twice.

Right?

“Don’t deny it. We spiders hide within all corners of Ebott. Few secrets are safe from us,” Lord Weaver clicked when Castellar waited too long to give him an answer, “Which is why I presume you don’t really stay in the Boroughs out of your own desire, do you?”

Again, there was only silence.

What times that Ferris had sparred with Castellar, the two were never permitted to fight at full force. It was always under observation, always with someone to call them down before either student could greatly hurt the other. It wasn't that their teachers didn't want them to fight rough: Their history warranted that precaution, lest they took things that one step too far. 

Even if she was confident in her own abilities, escaping from Castellar's grasp and trying to beat him outright were two separate matters. In a true, drawn-out battle, she wasn't certain if she could win against him. And if the two monsters teamed up... 

Castellar closed what little distance between them remained. He pointed the bone at the arachne as a sign of warning. “Lord Weaver, you are under arrest for crimes against the Two Kingdoms: For the trafficking of mages, and for the murder of countless innocents—” 

The other interrupted him with a harsh laugh, “Innocents? Humans that possess magic are not merely a threat to monsters; they are an insult to the natural order! Their own kind thinks so! I have been cleansing a scourge.”

The quiet that followed this time was different. It felt like the tension in the air became mixed with a kind of... buzz, the sensation of whirring insects disturbed from their nest. Ferris could feel it emanating from her very being. 

“Don’t be their dog, Castellar. You’re meant for so much more than this.”

A strange look crossed over the skeleton’s face. He shifted his stance. Suddenly, the bone in his hand was flung in Ferris’ direction. She threw her body out of the way and it spun past her.

There was a fierce shriek. She glanced behind her to find the weapon drilled into one of the automaton’s eyes. While it was much too large to crawl over the threshold and squeeze into the passage, it had tried to make a swipe for her with its limited reach. Chunks of the floor were ripped apart as it scrambled for purchase. It fell backward, dropping into the pit.

Castellar practically growled, “I won’t ask you to surrender a second time—!”

The smaller, watchful arachne swarmed over him. He was forced to retreat, manifesting his shield to push back against the hoard. Ferris spotted a purple light coming from Lord Weaver’s claws, extending into cords. She lunged at him from behind. Quickly, he caught one of the nearby fragments of rock with the thread and slung it at her skull. She nearly lost her footing from the impact, catching herself and summoning her Astral Dagger into her hand. Keeping low, she managed to land a cut at her opponent’s waist.

“Switch off!” her colleague barked.

Ferris kicked off the floor and she and Castellar traded places. There was no choice. The skeleton didn’t have any kind of sweeping spell that could handle enemies like this. Admittedly, Lord Weaver had her outclassed. Sliding into his former place, the young woman summoned a maelstrom of bright orange flames—taking out any arachne too stunned to face them.

There was a loud racket behind her as Castellar clashed with the other noble head on. She continued to act as support, clearing the cramped battlefield of anyone who might intervene.  At one point, she risked a glance to check how the two fared against each other.

Lord Weaver clearly knew how to fight and his stats were impressive, but he was not really the close-combat type. His only advantage there were the additional limbs that he forced Castellar to keep up with. His attacks came from varying directions. Despite their ferocity, they were all countered by the brunt of the skeleton’s shield. As the two locked themselves into a brief stalemate, Castellar slammed the floor with his heel. A large bone rammed upward, straight into Lord Weaver’s chest and almost knocking him into the pit with his deadly pet.

The latter caught himself by flinging several violet webs back into the tunnel. Some stuck to the walls to brace his body. One latched around Castellar’s leg and threw him off-balance. As the skeleton tripped backward and dragged his feet to keep from being pulled into the pit with Lord Weaver, it actually gave the other monster the momentum he needed to vault himself through the air and back into hall.

He landed on top of the the mage, all six arms braced to strike. Castellar didn’t allow him to keep that advantage for long. Mandibles clattered as he slammed his fist into the arachne’s face, whirling his body around to get back onto his feet.

Then Lord Weaver’s arms spread wide with another web-based attack. Before she knew it, Ferris was yanked backward. The two mages collided into one another. Castellar caught them both before they could tumble to the ground.

The magical spider threads encircled them completely. Before Lord Weaver could ensnare them, Ferris’ dagger changed from its usual red and white glow to a yellow one. She adjusted her grip and threw it. It pierced the arachne in the shoulder, causing little damage, but distracting him enough to keep him from completing his spell.

Another Astral Dagger was summoned, extending into a longer blade. Lord Weaver had left himself open. She moved forward to deal the final blow and saw a fearful realization flood his eyes.

Ah… Was it fair for him to show fear now, after how brazenly he’d threatened her?

Before she could strike, a bone shard pierced Lord Weaver right through the head. He gasped, his eyes going wide and his limbs slack. Seconds later, his body began to crumple into dust.

There was a loud clatter behind Ferris. She jumped at the noise, turning her head just in time to see purple threads evaporate from around a mass of rock hovering in the air before harmlessly hitting the ground. The lingering magic slowly vanished, tracing back to where the fallen noble once lay.

Too flustered to muster any gratitude, the young woman fumed at the skeleton instead, "Cas!"

"Next time, don't hesitate." He didn't bother looking her way as he scolded her, instead casting a fierce glance at few the remaining arachne. Some had fled mid-battle, others as soon as their leader had fallen. He waited for the last of them to fully dissipate before continuing in a surprisingly softer tone, "You should check your LV." 

Ferris bristled. Reluctantly, she did as Castellar said.  

The number next to her name had shifted from a 2 to a 3. 

She sighed. It was... to be expected. She had only thought of survival from the moment she escaped the laboratory, but the fact remained that she'd killed a number of arachne.

The number mocked her, just as it had when she’d gone from a LV. 1 to a LV. 2. She’d accepted that change when she’d had to fight for her and her sister’s lives on the streets. She’d been preparing for this change throughout her training as a mage. It was likely to change again one day in the future.

If she entertained the idea of going back in time to spare the spiders, it was short-lived. Despite the heavy shedding of dust and that there never even was a single victim left to save, she and Castellar had completed their mission. Maybe she could try again. Maybe she could take down only Lord Weaver, all by herself, but who said the result would be any better than this? And what for? To save a villain and his underlings, or in some poor attempt to spare her own… 

No. Ferris walked away, returning to the edge of the drop. All of the rest of the world lived on with their decisions, never given the gift or curse of correcting the past. Yet Lord Weaver and his ilk had made the same poor choices over and over again, never choosing to learn from their mistakes. What made her responsible for them? She would not force herself to suffer for their sake.

"Mine went up as well," the skeleton muttered behind her—not that she cared.

Castellar soon stood by her side. Morphing the shield’s shape, he raised up the mass of magic to shine its light down into the pit below. All too acquainted with the scene, Ferris averted her eyes. Castellar hissed through his teeth. 

"If we had thought to check his LV, we may have caught on sooner," he said, "Lord Weaver served in many battles in his younger years. I would've suspected a high number nevertheless, but... It would not have been to this extreme." 

She merely nodded. Truthfully, as much as people emphasized the importance of one's LV in relation to their innocence, it was an overly simplistic system. A knight that fought to defend king and country could carry a number that matched a serial killer's. An abusive family member—who beat and kicked and starved their young relatives daily, but never spilled enough blood to call for attention—could carry a number that matched a saint's. A parent who protected their offspring from an amateur criminal would forever carry a mark higher than their attacker's. In this case though, yes; knowing would have helped.   

The young woman soon noticed that something was missing: The strange automaton was nowhere to be seen. When she brought it up, Castellar raised a brow at her, but soon explained, "That was a living spell—an advanced technique, to be sure, but nothing more than an extension of Lord Weaver himself. It perished the moment he did." 

"That thing was a spell?!”

His expression abruptly sharpened, "Don't try it. I shudder to think of the beast you'd make."

Ferris gave him an awful scowl of her own before her eyes once more fell to the deceased. For whatever justice had finally been offered to them, she knew that they would never leave this castle. It was too risky to move the bodies, both due to the potential for disease and the uproar the sight of them would cause. They and their secret would need to be burned.  

Steeling her resolve, the only things left Ferris had to give the fallen were a prayer and a spark.

Chapter 13

Somewhere within a vast, dark space that felt both familiar and foreboding, a child was crying. 

Ferris didn't have to go far to trace the source of the sound. It was as if her body knew exactly in what direction to go; a life force attracting another life force.  It was the same child in the odd blue and pink tunic she'd seen countless times before, sitting on their knees within the shadowy landscape, their face coated with tears.

Coming from them, it was a rare moment of intense emotion. For Ferris, the cause was not hard to identify. The child's arms were wrapped tightly across their abdomen, as if they were in great pain. Their pallor was off as though they were sick or gripped with overwhelming fear. Likely both. Not too far off, a golden star glimmered with brilliant indifference.  

"Our fate rests upon you..." a mournful voice called through the darkness, "Stay determined..." 

The voice hadn't even finished speaking, however, when the child let out a tortured scream in reply. It seemed to be a line that they had heard plenty before. No matter how caring the speaker, they were not words that could offer any comfort in a moment like this. 

As rare as the sight was to see, rarer still was the young woman's empathy. She knew it would be a futile attempt, but Ferris nearly broke her personal rule against trying to interact with her visions anyway. As little as she understood of the scene, she just couldn't bear to see someone so young burdened with the same weight she carried.  

Approaching them from behind, she reached out to touch the child's shoulder only to draw herself back when she noticed that they weren't actually alone. A familiar was there, the same female, two-tailed fox that she'd met in her own childhood and that often followed Blaze back home. It wasn't that the odd creature never interacted with others. It was just strange to see the fox in one of her visions. Familiars were generally impossible to understand, from their behaviors to the confusing bits of information that could be gleaned about them through appraisal spells. They were often, quite literally, otherworldly.    

In this case, however, the look on the familiar's face was simple to understand: It was one of pity. The fox sat near the child with her ears dipped back, a paw tentatively raised in the same, outstretched pose that Ferris made. When the familiar attempted to pat the child on the knee, she was knocked back with a firm shove. The fox didn't particularly seem to mind. She barely had the chance to process what had even happened. Soon enough, she was yanked up into the child's arms with a tight squeeze—the youth sobbing into her fur.

A creature said to toy with the lives of others being treated like a child’s plaything…  Ferris might've chuckled if the circumstances weren't so awful. Contrary to what could be expected, the fox remained still and let the child have their cry.

---

The young woman was jarred back into consciousness by the clanking of armor as one of Falchon’s soldiers walked past her from where she learned near the castle’s front doors. As she and Castellar interrogated Meadow Weaver and the rest of the castle’s residents, the skeleton had sent off one of the townspeople to fetch the soldiers. Now, the area was bustling with them.

Of course, the two mages were careful with whatever evidence they shared. It wasn’t that they fancied hiding Lord Weaver’s crimes, but the sheer brutality of them—from a member of the Monster Kingdom’s nobility no less—was destined to send waves of devastation across Ebott. Tensions had always been high between the two races. Years had passed, but many hadn’t forgotten the Conflagration. The last thing anyone needed was an excuse for further violence.     

As far as the wider public would know, Lord Weaver had been involved in the trafficking of mages, but for nothing too different from the underground brawls that were known to take place. A proper report would be given to the Guildmaster, as well as to Ebott’s royal families. They would negotiate what further justice was to be carried out.

“I can’t spare anyone to escort Lady Meadow all the way to the capitol,” Ferris overheard Falchon explain to Castellar, “but we’ll take her as far as we can. You’ve both worked hard. Don’t worry and get yourselves home.”

When the avian glanced her way, she avoided his gaze. First mission or no, she didn’t need anyone checking up on her.

Still… for her to have nodded off while she was on her feet, she must’ve been more exhausted than she thought. Had it really only been a few days since they’d arrived to Hunters Hollow? They’d rushed to get here and had worked through the night without a moment’s rest. Looking outside, the young woman stared at a bright, open sky. It was already late into another morning.

Not too long after their horses were returned to them, Meadow Weaver was brought out in cuffs. She didn’t struggle, meekly following after the soldiers with a passive expression. From what Castellar told Ferris, Meadow was the reason he’d returned to the castle early. Knowing what her uncle had planned, she’d rushed to fetch the skeleton before it was presumably too late.

Which also meant confessing that she’d long been aware of Lord Weaver’s crimes. For something of this scale, whole households could be subject to punishment. If young King Asgore was anything like what others described him as, then maybe she would only receive a light sentence. If not…

Ferris focused on strapping her belongings to her saddle. She’d considered thanking the girl earlier, but it was possible that it would only come across as empty praise.

Castellar eventually joined her. Before the pair could say their goodbyes to Falchon and ride off, Meadow startled the guards as she hurriedly brushed past them to reach the two mages. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it again, then curtsied as best as she could.

“Master Castellar! Ferris! Thank you for your mercy!” was all she could ramble out.

Ferris was baffled. Mercy…? To her, it still seemed far too early to call her arrest anything close to mercy just yet. And how could she say that with her uncle dead by their hands? The young woman already half-suspected that the girl didn’t have the best relationship with her family, but when so many other arachne had fallen…

She didn’t know how to respond.  

Meanwhile, Castellar regarded the girl with his usual sternness. "Mercy doesn't come cheap just because you aren’t made to pay the debt," he warned her, "Lucky for you, yours is but a drop in the sea compared to your uncle's. Nevertheless, be ready, Lady Meadow. There will be many trials ahead of you."

He was right. Even if Meadow did survive, the Weaver name would be no more.  That was the bare minimum that Ebott’s ruling houses would demand. Stripped of her noble class, still a child in an unforgiving world, it was difficult to say how she’d fare.

However, as Ferris and Castellar left Castle Weaver to their backs, the skeleton told her, “Do not pity that one. She was clever enough to come find me when she did and the spider clans look after their own. I assure you; she knows how to handle herself.”

Ferris fought back an involuntary shudder. She didn’t fully understand what he meant by that, nor did she want to hazard a guess.

Nothing else was said between the pair until they reached the outskirts of town, when Castellar prompted, “Did you really not think to wait for me?”

It took Ferris a second to realize he was talking about the previous night. He looked just as irritated as he did when she’d reported the attempted poisoning to him and Falchon. She shrugged, “He forced my hand.”

“You feigned paralysis and allowed yourself to be carried into an underground labyrinth behind a locked door.”

“I tricked a criminal into revealing his intentions.”

“You were nearly eaten. Twice,” he spat, moving his glare from her to the road ahead of them, “Stupid girl…”

She clicked her tongue at that last comment, unwilling to dignify it with any other kind of response.

The conversation forced her to play back the night’s events in her head for a third time. Even now, it was hard for her to gauge what she’d done right or wrong, or what all she could’ve done better. Was there any clue they’d missed? Was it ok to leave things as is, or did she need to undue it all?

As she began to relax in her saddle, her hands trembled. Ferris tried to stop them by tightening her grip on the reins. However, sensing that something was off, her horse stopped mid-gait. Ferris gave the mare a light tap with her boot to nudge it forward without success.

Suddenly, her vision went dark as a bundle of fabric was thrown in her face. It was Castellar’s cloak.

“The air is chill,” he said, turning his own stallion along a nearby road, “Put that on. As a skeleton, I can brace against it better than you can.”

Ferris had already wadded the cloak into a ball to hurl it back at him when she realized he was headed in the wrong direction, “Uh, numbskull… We need to go east.”

He didn’t stop, “I’m making a short detour.”

As he moved further onward, Ferris drew the cloak around herself and she weighed her options. A part of her was tempted to leave him. She knew the way back to the Boroughs well enough. However, on the slight chance that something happened to him, Madame Valda would never let her hear the end of it. Not even leaping into the past to correct the error would save her.

Although she relented, she wasn’t at all thrilled to learn that the ‘short detour’ was in-fact a nearly one-hour ride along the complete opposite path of where they needed to go.  

They travelled all the way to the mouth of Warbler’s Creek, which widened to a deep pool encircled by a natural stone wall. The formation of the rock was similar to that of a bird with its beak open. Water poured out of this opening, joining the current with a playful sound.

Ferris braced herself for the worst, but there was nothing to fear. Castellar never explained why he wanted to come out all this way, no matter how much she prodded. He just gave his horse a moment to drink and encouraged her to do the same.  

Chapter 14

Back at the Boroughs, life mostly returned to its usual pace. Both the guild and the townsfolk were so busy assisting with the harvest and preparing for the Wildfire Festival that there was little room for other work. Ferris and Castellar were assigned to separate groups of mages, giving them an excuse to return to their usual distance. 

The very day of the festival was no less chaotic. More merchants had arrived than in previous years, each fighting over space to sell their wares. A larger crowd than usual followed them, as if no one in the neighboring territories had anything better to do. More room was needed around the main stage, someone had to review the Borough’s security, and people had to be reorganized. 

The Guildmaster was beside himself with frustration, already having enough on his plate. It was unlikely that Ferris would see either him or Castellar for the entirety of the day. While she was glad that the skeleton wouldn’t have the chance to spoil her fun, another annoyance pestered her as early as that morning as she was getting ready. Brushing her hair, she tried to ignore the finger poking at her cheek. 

“Ferris… Ferris, look at me!” Iva’s sing-song voice teased her. The orange mage was grinning from ear-to-ear, sitting beside her on the bed. “Madame Valda said that you've been using the fire spells I taught you. Aren’t you going to thank me?”  

The younger woman pursed her lips in embarrassment, turning away, “Drop it, Iva.”  

“Everyone, including you, said my spells were reckless! They're useful though, aren't they?” 

“What do you want? A cookie?” 

“If you’re offering!” she laughed, then her expression soured a bit, “But is that what you’re wearing? It’s a holiday. Surely, you want to look nice.”

“Nothing is wrong with my clothes.” Ferris was unmoved by the other mage’s fussing. She was dressed in her usual attire. Honestly, she didn’t see the need to trim and prune herself the way her roommates did. They were going to play through the streets, not sit at some royal table. Besides, she would have to take a turn monitoring the Boroughs late in the evening. She didn’t want to have to change a second time. 

“At least wear a ribbon!” Cradling her womb, Iva pushed herself up from the bed and began rummaging through Ferris’ dresser before the latter could stop her. She pulled out a wide, red band and placed in firmly in Ferris’ hands. “There! It matches your eyes.”  

Ferris sighed before giving in. She pulled her hair to one side in its regular style, tying it off with the bright strip of fabric. The pair smiled at each other and exited the room.

Iva’s husband was already waiting for her in the common room. Percy's purple eyes softened as he took her by the hand and escorted her out. Once more, Ferris was amazed by how such a strict character could act so gentle. In the first year of Ferris’ apprenticeship, Iva had confessed that the two had known each other since they were children. She explained that Percy’s caution came from an incident where she’d been attacked and his magic manifested as he was trying to defend her—so began a striking fear for his own abilities and her unflinching affection for him. It took years for him to openly return Iva’s love. Aside from family, Ferris couldn’t imagine that kind of devotion.

She stayed in the common room a while longer. After several minutes, she heard her master’s slow gait and looked up the stairs. Ciara was helping her down. Ferris held her breath. Her little sister was wearing a plain, but nice dress as opposed to the dull tunic she’d gotten a habit of wearing while working on potions, and a violet ribbon was laced through her own hair.

The siblings exchanged glances as Ciara and Madame Valda reached the lower level, some quiet dialogue passing between them. This year, Ciara would also attend the festival.  

Even if her little sister wasn’t training to become a seer, she possessed the crimson eyes of one nevertheless. It wasn’t impossible for her to have some of their abilities. Then again, maybe the inevitable truth was becoming too obvious. As she guided Madame Valda over and the elder broke free from her hold, Ciara’s gaze was bittersweet.

“A full day with my favorite girls…” the Head of the Crimson Mages straightened her back and took the lead, “Come! Let’s not waste it!” 

 It was a bit of a walk from the guild compound to the main part of town. Nevertheless, a parade of merchants and entertainers lined the path from the heart of the square to the tourney grounds in the opposite direction. Already, the way was crowded with humans, monsters, and mages of all sorts. Empty plots were turned into complex paths of puzzles and games. Various warm scents tickled the air from vendors selling street foods. The bright tents and caravans added splashes of color to the ever-greying background of an approaching winter.

They held off on checking many of the wares for sale. There was nothing in-particular that the sisters and their guardian had their eye out for, and the merchants would stick around for days after the festival officially ended. They could barter at their leisure some other time. The girls would’ve been content merely to stuff their faces between shows if it weren’t for Valda encouraging them to play.

“This game has prizes.” Ferris pointed at a sign displayed in front of a millet maze. 

“And traps…” added Ciara with noticeably less enthusiasm. She read, “Greed makes one blind. Mind what you find.”

The trio looked at some of the people stepping out of the maze. Some were laughing while others were wiping some pinkish-red liquid off their faces. It was likely some kind of thinned berry juice, the way they licked it off their lips.

It didn’t deter the older sister, already reaching for her purse, “Shall we give it a try?” 

Madame Valda placed a hand on Ciara’s shoulder, “We can go in together. And if Ferris goes in first, she can activate some of the traps before we even get to them.” 

Ferris shook her head at the subtle teasing before paying their way and taking her first steps within the maze. Large stalks immediately surrounded her, breaking into two opposing paths. She picked one at random, unwilling to spoil the fun for herself by using her abilities. 

“Don’t you cheat either,” she called over her shoulder. 

She didn’t worry about walking too far ahead of her companions. The millet wasn’t tall enough to completely block her view of them or the other participants. Every now and then, a familiar face would pass her just above the stalks. Both the prizes and traps, however, were well-hidden and there were bales of grain that made for extra obstacles. 

At the center of the maze was Starecrow, the Boroughs’ most notorious sentry. From what Ferris had been told, he was a ghost that possessed a scarecrow’s body—not that she’d ever confirmed the story from the supposed specter himself. He never said a word, to the point where, for the longest time, she’d wondered if the other mages were playing a joke on her. 

They were not. He was just an eerily silent person. Even Castellar was apparently unnerved by him, quick to hurry on his way anytime they crossed paths. Ferris never felt that same degree of unease: She was just annoyed that she could never get away with anything with him around. 

Don’t look at me. I’m playing nice today… Stumbling upon a dead end, she began to move backward toward the last break in the path.

She backed into someone. Ferris turned around to face a goliath of a hybrid. His humanoid form had a stony quality to it, as if he were a living statue, and gold dust sprinkled across his cheeks reminiscent of freckles. Gem-like eyes glance down at her with a soft, apologetic look. 

“Excuse me, miss, I—” the stranger cut himself short, blinking at her, “Are you… Ferris?”

Ferris didn’t immediately respond, struggling to place a name to this face. If he were from the Boroughs, she felt confident that she would’ve recognized him. She felt herself bashfully squirm when his eyes lit up as if he were seeing an old friend. 

“You really are her, aren’t you? And you really did become a mage!” he leaned closer, beaming, “I’m Kobalt! Don’t you remember me? From the caverns!” 

He was so vague that, for a moment, Ferris still didn’t have the slightest clue where they’d met. Was he a childhood friend, a former fellow street urchin... did she ever steal anything from him? There were so few places she'd explored in her past though that she eventually came to the right answer. As her own eyes widened with recognition, Kobalt laughed. 

Somehow, he was even taller than the last time they'd met. While still on the skinnier side, he had to rival some of the largest monsters. More of his golem traits had begun to show, his features sharper and more geometric and hairline cracks etching along his body.   

"I'm glad to see to again. How have you been?" 

"I've... been fine. Small world..." Ferris tried not to show how awkward she felt about the encounter. When they'd first met, she'd tried to gain his sympathy to save her own neck. She knew he'd developed a quick soft spot for her and used it to get any advantage. She didn't think they would meet again, nevermind that he'd remember her. 

Kobalt looked at her with such a puppy-like affection that it was hard not to feel at least somewhat guilty. 

"What about you?" she asked, "What have you been up to?" 

"I'm actually working to become a merchant," he answered before lowering his voice, "Not bad for someone from a den of runaways and thieves, am I right?" 

Hearing this, it was impossible for Ferris to hold back a laugh. She thought back on what small semblance of a plan she'd made for herself those five years ago. She remembered how tempted she'd been by the other's company to ask to stay with him and his family of runaways. To think that things could fall so perfectly into place all too late...

Kobalt responded to her sudden fit of giggles with a confused smile, "What's so funny?" 

"It's nothing," she replied once she could catch her breath, "I'm just glad you're doing well." 

She really meant it. Lovers across borders, humans with magic, monsters with human traits... The world could be unforgiving toward anyone, but those who dared cross between its firmly-kept lines always had it hard in their own way. She was happy that, like her, he was making a good life for himself despite the world's burdens.

"And how has your mother been? Is she alright?" 

Ferris regretted asking almost immediately. Kobalt's expression became sheepish and strained as he struggled to find the words. She placed a gentle, if uncertain hand on his arm to let him know he didn't have to say anything. It had gone on for a long time, but these stories never ended happily. Whether or not Durga was dead or dying or otherwise was irrelevant. She'd done what was forbidden and now, however it happened, he was bound to lose at least one parent if he hadn't already. 

Kobalt captured her fingers in his own and gave her an appreciative nod. He pulled her along after him, recovering some of his earlier energy, "Since we're here, why don't we search the maze together? I have some time before I have to get back to work." 

"I'd like that."

Chapter 15

Kobalt was as good a companion as any Ferris might've wished for. The two worked together through the maze, rummaging through its piles of grains for treasures. They found small, often plain chests and keys to match them. The largest or most decorated of these boxes contained some kind of trap or another—a realization Kobalt learned late when a pouch of juice exploded in his face upon unlocking one. It was all a bit complicated for a simple festival game, but still great fun. In the end, they found some candies and a set of clay figures. The young merchant took only one of the toys as a charm, insisting that Ferris divide the rest between herself and her sister.

Walking with him, talking with him, reminded Ferris of much simpler times. She felt she could speak as comfortably with Kobalt as she could her old friends back in Mollendale, especially now, without the pressure of survival looming over either of them.

She could tell that he still fancied her a little. She blamed it on inexperience and how short-lived their time together was when they'd first met. He kept to only boyish flirtations though, which suited her just fine. 

"Will you be at the bonfire dance tonight?" he asked as they walked outside of the maze. 

Ferris shook her head, "I'm afraid I have my duties." 

Truth be told, she didn't mind missing the dance. She'd still get to see the festival's main show before going on patrol and there was no one she was particularly interested in as a partner. There would still be plenty of drinking and merriment, but the festival would be winding down around then anyway.       

The young merchant’s disappoint was obvious, “As do I… I have to return to work soon enough. Could you spare a bit more time for me until then?”

Her gaze passed over his shoulder. Madame Valda and Ciara were waiting for her not too far away, clutching their own prizes—a bouquet of dried flowers and a squirrel-shaped nutcracker—as they watched her. Valda gave her a teasing wave, but Ciara was visibly sulking.

“That might be difficult,” the young woman replied, trying to hide her humor. Pocketing the figurines and her share of the sweets, Ferris took his hands in her own. “Maybe later, if you’ll still be around town for a while. In case I don’t see you though, let me give you a premonition now.”

She felt Kobalt’s thumbs graze across her skin as he gave her a toothy smile. His touch was rough, yet careful, as if he were treating her fragilely. “Miss Mage, I’d be honored!”

Goofball, Ferris chuckled from her throat and closed her eyes. She tried to follow the splitting threads of his future across several days from now, to when he and the merchant he was apprenticed under would well be on the road. She saw them charming their way into deals while on the go. She saw them taking the usual precautions or Kobalt using his past experience as a fugitive to avoid robbers.

There was one bundle of threads though that just… stopped, and that worried her deeply. She hadn’t actually expected to see any grave danger. It didn’t help that she couldn’t identity the exact cause. Along one cord, she saw him eating a freshly cooked meal by a campfire and, hours later, falling dead. Along another, she saw him crumpled at the base of a cliffside, left alone to gradually succumb to the elements. Following a third, all she could hear was a struggle.

Ferris didn’t allow her concern to show. The risk that anyone could harm Kobalt—barring him letting his guard totally down—was minimal. He was larger than most people, his golem half made him naturally strong, and surely he had magic. That small bundle of threads was insignificant compared to all other odds.

But it was there and she couldn’t simply ignore it.

“Avoid following the roads from here to Elmspyre,” she said, “I see nothing but trouble that way.”

He gave her a confused look, “Bandits?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, surely, we can handle it. We’ve run into groups of them already.”

She squeezed his hands. “Please.”

Kobalt paused in thought, then the corners of his mouth lifted in a reassuring grin. Suddenly, he bowed at the waist and lightly kissed her knuckles. His lips weren’t soft, but there was a tickle of a spark as they brushed against her flesh. The coy show of affection froze the young woman in place.               

He laughed at her stunned expression. “I’ll talk to my master about it. Just promise to spare another moment for me when you can.”

He didn’t give her the chance to reply, jogging away and vanishing into the crowded streets. Ferris wasn’t certain she could’ve replied, as dumbfounded as she was. She was neither giddy nor upset. She really just couldn’t make sense of what happened or how to feel about it.

Ciara stomped over with some very strong feelings. “Who was that? Who does he think he is?!” she fumed.

Moving along behind her, Valda playfully ruffled her hair. “Now, now. Your sister’s all grown up. A suitor or two shouldn’t be that surprising.”

“He was a shameless flirt!”

At last, a bit of bashfulness came over Ferris. She rubbed the back of her hand as she felt her cheeks warm ever so slightly. It was the first time anyone had shown her that sort of affection. She couldn’t say whether she liked it or not.

After enduring some more of her master’s teasing, Ferris pushed her embarrassment aside and suggested that they continue on their way. While neither of the two sisters condoned it, Madame Valda was able to drag them into a few rounds of petty gambling—just simple games of dice, cards, and snail racing. Ferris wanted to try walking on stilts like a few of the street performers. They watched a puppet show Ciara could barely hide her curiosity toward, and they humored a Temmie offering free pets at a ramshackle booth.

Something called a ‘carousel’ intrigued the trio the most, along with every other festival-goer. Ferris had heard of it as an exercise that knights sometimes practiced, but this was a peculiar, wooden contraption built like a massive barrel on top of a thick post. Small groups were ushered inside, the barrel steadily rose as burly men rotated it with heavy cords, and then it spun like a top back into place for the next group to climb aboard. 

And the food! Ferris could’ve been offered a seat at the finest table in all of Ebott and still preferred the Borough’s myriad of street fare. Hucksters sold pastries; miniature pies were baked straight out of homes; there were buttered pea pods, dried fruits, and roasted poultry. Even Snickerdoodle had worked doubly hard to prepare a wide range of sweets for sale.

Despite the countless outsiders that had appeared that year, everything was peaceful. Ferris did see Castellar once from afar, over by a small archery range that Lamont had mainly set up for children; however, for a rare change, his presence failed to ruin her mood. Maybe it was because Monty was giving him such a hard time, trying to pressure the skeleton into showing off for the little ones. Or maybe it was because of the three familiar bunnies waiting in line for their turn, looking much healthier than when she’d seen them last.           

She ended up crossing paths with Kobalt once again around that same time. He was with a small bunch of other merchants trading in leather, furs, and other materials. Seeing her as well, he darted to the front of their stall and heartily waved. She waved back.

Thwomp!

There was a loud sound of split wood. Valda and the two sisters, along with several other pairs of eyes, looked back at the archery range. It seemed that Lamont had successfully pestered Castellar into firing off a single shot. Not only had the arrow landed perfectly in the center, the target had collapsed. Its back leg was broken off and a long crack was splintered across its surface.

Lamont clapped Castellar hard enough on the back to make him falter a step. Several people cheered at the display of skill.

Before dusk arrived, Ferris, Ciara, and Madame Valda made their way to the edge of town. While the Boroughs had a permanent stage not far from the square for most celebrations and general affairs, this performance required a much larger one. Each year, an entire field was carefully selected and cleared well in-advance, giving its audience a good view of the surrounding woodlands. A number of talented magic users were hidden somewhere across that landscape, ready to guide the grand inferno that was the festival’s main event.

Some volunteers and the usual group of minstrels—Blaze, Sil, a feline named Fiddly, and a tall gorgon named Kanes—climbed atop a modest podium. The Tale of the Scorched Magician began.

“From the borders to the East,
To the height of Ebott’s peak,
Hill and valley bathed in red
Starved of air as fire fed.
Smoke and soot did pierce the sky,
Making dawn as dark as night.
Choking shadows! Hellish light!”

The heavy, steadfast beat of a drum cut off the verse. In the distance, the first pillars of smoke began to rise. In the legend, the wildfires that had consumed the land so long ago appeared without warning. Any attempt to perfectly copy that disaster was out of the question. The performers always made it a slow build-up with music and spells woven throughout.

Almost centered within the crowd, the three mages sat together in the grass with Ciara in the middle. Ferris scooted closed to her little sister’s side, prepared for the worst. If the show became too much for her, then Ferris was ready to lead her away immediately. As of then though, much to the elder sibling’s pride, Ciara kept her eyes bravely pinned on the unfolding play.

“Flap of bird and stamp of deer,
Through burning brush, the path unclear,
Fearful creatures lost astray
In luscious green turned ashen grey.
Ebott’s woodland, endless pyre,
Where are the seers? Where is the crier?
All were blind before the fire!

“It is here!”  

The build-up of smoke only grew. The rattle of a tambourine joined the drums as Sil stepped into the performance. She was a young human woman with pale skin and brown hair. Usually, she carried herself with a carefree attitude that went against the mysterious air that hung about her. Friendly yet distant, open yet secretive, she was kind to everyone while never getting close to anyone outside of Blaze’s group.

There were only a few things about her that anyone was certain of: She was friends with Blaze the longest, she didn’t take her job as a mage very seriously, and—for reasons unknown—she held herself back more than anyone dared to wonder.  

That was why Sil could play the Scorched Magician so often: She had an untold amount of magic. Although it didn’t seem like she would this year... For a moment, Ferris felt sorry that she’d refused the role so harshly. Blaze must’ve been desperate to find anyone that would take the part, and his band of minstrels always performed the play with the same high energy every time.

More fires bloomed, these closer than before. The mages working in the background had no easy task either. While the one playing the Scorched Magician had to use a lot of their magic in one spell, the others would take shifts all through the night—possibly even days—conducting the controlled burns. Ferris pondered so much over who they could’ve found for the lead that she didn’t pay deep attention to the story at all.

And when she finally had her answer, she slumped back in the grass in disbelief. They didn’t…

With a magic staff in its mouth and a crooked, pointed head on its head, a blue cotton ball of a creature made its way up the podium on all fours: A bundle of fur that Sil lovingly called ‘Fluffleluv.’ With long eyelashes, the body and tail of a small dog, yet the wooly coat of a sheep, the peculiar canine had a disarming appearance. Even though Ferris has appraised his soul once before, he didn’t seem like monster: The way he sometimes followed at Sil’s heels and then would disappear for days on end, she almost expected him to be a familiar—but even that felt off. He simply lacked the same, supernatural feeling that familiars carried about them to some degree.

If there was any feeling hanging about him, Ferris dared to call it innocence, the kind felt from a playful pet or a child’s toy. He acted intelligent enough—others talked to him—but his own ability to communicate was… limited.

“Nii ni ni nii, ni ni ni ni nii,” Fluffleluv boldly proclaimed to the crowd after propping the staff against himself, “Nii ni ni nii, ni nii!”

Outsiders glanced at one another in bafflement. Somewhere in the back, someone choked out a knowing guffaw. On the sidelines, Sil looked like a proud mother while Blaze looked like he wanted to die on the spot from shame. He was used to absurdity, but even he must’ve thought this went a tad too far.

To their credit, the other performers took their lines as seriously as they had in past years. They could not, however, keep the legend they were telling from looking like a children’s animal fable. Between every well-spoken verse was a high-pitched cry of “Ni!”

Ferris glanced sideways at her companions. The more the fires had grown, the more difficult it was for Ciara to hide her nerves. Nevertheless, the performance’s ridiculous turn seemed to have shocked her into a calm state. All she could do was stare at the walking cotton ball. Madame Valda was trying hard to keep her laughter to herself.

Ferris drew her knees to her chest and looked at the pair with a fond grin. She supposed the performance was fine.

She’d never seen the creature actually cast a spell before. She wasn’t entirely sure that Fluffleluv did so now, recapturing the staff in his teeth and standing on his hindlegs to hold it up as best he could.

“Niiii!!”

In time with the cry, the field before them ignited into a sea of flames. A fiery wave came rushing at the audience before stopping short and careening toward the sky as though a barrier had been cast. Even at a safe distance, Ferris could feel a slight heat from it and had to blink against its harsh light. A soothing, cold wind from cyan mages hidden among the crowd fought this. Although her reaction wasn’t the worst, Ciara couldn’t help burying her face into her older sister’s shoulder. Ferris rubbed her on the back in small circles.

After a few more pyromantics, the show was over. Other mages easily gained control over the path of the flames and redirected them where they were needed. Ferris and Valda gave Ciara another few minutes to recover as the crowd dispersed. Following this, the trio slowly worked their way back to the guild, savoring what fun could still be had before work called Ferris away.

Chapter 16

The festival was only just winding down when Ferris finished her patrol. Other than needing to scare a few, particularly rowdy young mages into behaving, she didn’t stumble across any trouble. Perhaps it was still too early to say so, but it seemed like the Boroughs had yet another successful harvest celebration.

As many people as there were heading home or closing shop, there were still plenty of others trying to squeeze in whatever last bit of fun could be had. Ferris wished the best of luck to the night watch as they came to relieve her and headed straight back to the guild. Since she’d have to get back to her usual routine as early as the next morning, she intended to get a good night’s rest.       

The halls were mostly empty when she arrived, the earlier buzz of activity reduced to a soft murmur. She only meant to grab herself a quick drink. Peeking into the dining hall, she saw two familiar faces among the late-night stragglers. Before she could duck away, the Guildmaster’s voice called out to her, “Ferris! Why don’t you join us?”

She inwardly groaned. It wasn’t like she could pretend she didn’t hear him… Both Tobius and Castellar stared at her expectantly from a table nearest the kitchens, sharing a light meal. The large, white dog that was the Guildmaster’s familiar was sleeping fitfully on the bench at his side.

“There’s some Maestro Soup left over the hearth. Go and fetch yourself a bowl.”

While she was still rather full from snacking throughout the festival, she just couldn’t turn up her nose at a ready meal. Doing as told, she found a medium-sized cauldron suspended over a mess of dying embers. Neither Tobius nor Castellar could’ve made the soup recently: Someone must’ve gotten peckish and abandoned the rest.

Maestro Soup was something of a comfort food. It was easy to make, combining any of a certain variety of vegetables like trumpet mushrooms or melody potatoes. If a song was sung while making the dish, it could affect the entire taste. Ferris poured herself only a small amount at first to sample it: It has a strong, earthy flavor, but it wasn’t overpowering enough for her to try changing it. Pooling a bit more into the bowl and grabbing a glass of water, she returned to the dining hall.

“Any trouble on your rounds?” Tobius asked as she sat next to him.

“Nothing worthwhile to report,” she answered simply, hardly looking up from her food. 

“I noticed Ciara attended the festival this year. How was she?”

Ferris smirked at the not-so-sly way he tried to get her to talk. If the conversation involved her sister, she wouldn't be able to keep out of it for long. "Fine, if you can believe it. I think she may have even enjoyed herself." 

"Good! Percy praises her quite a bit too, you know. You've both come a long way." The Guildmaster continued to do the bulk of the talking—bouncing between Ferris and Castellar, who only added the light comment here or there in their efforts to avoid speaking directly to each other. 

Gradually, the trio shifted onto more serious matters. Although the festival was over, they would be busy for the next several days. The number of mages patrolling the Boroughs would need to stay up until the crowds left. There was talk that the roads had grown more perilous in recent months—a point that caught Ferris' interest quite a bit—and so people were likely to request escorts from the guild. Everyone's focus would shift to completing the harvest and checking the granaries one final time before the frost settled in.      

This time, Ferris and Castellar would be at the center of all administrative duties. The skeleton was already familiar with them from assisting Tobius for so many years. Ferris, on the other hand, would have her work cut out for her. She wouldn't have to concern herself so much with ledgers or memberships, but all activities relating to the guild's crimson mages would be her responsibility: Training newcomers, delegating jobs to the right people, assisting the community through weather predictions and the like. She could already feel the weight of the role soon to be on her shoulders.   

A reddish-orange blur darting by the windows caught her attention near the end of the conversation, reminding her of yet another duty she had to bear: Finding who would inherit the power to reverse time next.   

Losing that power someday without warning was always a possibility. No, an inevitability. Based on the private records Madame Valda shared with her, one of their predecessors gained and lost the ability within a single day. Another was forced to study on their own because they gained it only after the previous time-traveler passed away for good, and many more possessed it for any number of years in-between.   

Not one of them understood how it passed from one person to another: All they could do was ready themselves as best as they good by trying to prophesize who would become their successor. It was how Madame Valda found her. It was how Ferris was expected to find her own student. Truthfully, she'd never cared to dwell on it much. Forced to rush through her apprenticeship, she always thought that if anyone took her power within that time, it would ultimately fall Valda to teach them too. But now...

Ferris lightly tapped the surface of the table in thought. She couldn't stop thinking about that child that appeared so consistently in her visions. Were they her future student? It made too much sense, but their clothes and environment were unlike anything she'd seen elsewhere. Clues of some far-off country? Perhaps. There wasn't a guarantee that whoever inherited her power would come from Ebott. Still, she'd seen much of the same architecture, heard the same language, even if the words and phrasing were sometimes strange. 

It didn't explain why they reminded her so much of Ciara either...   

Brushing a lock of hair out of her eyes, the young woman excused herself from the table. She told Tobius that she wanted a bit of fresh air. She hoped to chase down a certain, odd fox. 

If anyone could tell her who the child was, it would have to be that familiar. Even if the two hadn't met yet, Ferris had a sneaking suspicion it wouldn't matter to the otherworldly being. They would meet, of that she was certain—and the fox likely knew that too. 

Excluding the first time they'd met, it was rare to spot the fox anywhere without Blaze. Ferris nearly lost sight of her by the edge of the woods. The twin-tailed creature sneezed, bristling from the cold. 

Ferris jogged over, but before she could say a word, she felt a shift of energy. Not a moment later, a dark rift cut through the air right in front of the fox. It tore open further, becoming a black shape of an undefined mass. The mage quickly tried to appraise it, but the spell didn't work. It was as though nothing was there.

The familiar jumped into it, disappearing without so much as a sound. 

Without much thought, unwilling to let the opportunity escape her, Ferris vaulted herself toward the rift and stuck her arm inside of it before it could close. She only realized after the fact how foolish and potentially dangerous the act was—she could very well have ended up repeating her first death—however, the rift did indeed stay open. It was as though it felt her presence, too scared of harming her to seal on its own. The young woman breathed a sigh of relief. 

Peering into the void beyond for very long strained her eyes. It was just... sheer emptiness; a nothingness far bleaker and lonelier than a night sky. The thought of getting lost in it sent a shiver down her spine. 

Occasionally, she thought she saw runes, or numbers, flicker in and out of the shadows in the form of dim lights. There were long, nonsensical strings of them: 

00101111 01110111 01100001 01110010 01110000 00100000 01110111 01100001 01110100 01100101 01110010 01100110 01100001 01101100 01101100. 

Ferris looked away as her temples started to ache. This wasn't at all like before, when she'd followed the fox to its little mill. That too felt unnatural, but more-so as though she'd stumbled upon a monk's garden in the middle of the wilderness or stepped into a painting. The path she'd walked then was too uniform, too still. This—

"Get away from that."

Castellar stood behind her, his tone annoyed as if he were scolding some unruly child. Ferris had no idea when he'd snuck up or her, or why he'd decided to follow her outside in the first place.

"I'm not doing anything. Blaze's familiar made it," she managed to say, recovering from her surprise. Truthfully though, a part of her was still tempted to go after the fox and see where the rift led.  

"I had the poor luck of falling into one of those once before." His eyes narrowed. He closed the gap between them and grabbed her by the wrist in a firm grip. "I was left stranded on some hellish cliff-face where the rocks bled a black slime and what I can only assume were plants fired upon me." 

Ferris pursed her lips in a sour expression. "Yet you lived." 

His grip tightened. He aimed to pull her toward him, but she kept her feet stubbornly rooted to the spot. "Ferris, I'm not joking! Wherever that leads, there's no promise you'd make it back.”

Before she could launch another retort, some force, something, grabbed her still extended arm and pulled her through the rift with a sharp jerk. Hanging onto her and standing too close to draw back in time, Castellar was yanked in right after her. Although she felt the tug of his magic around her soul, there was nothing either of them could do once they were past the threshold. Again, all Ferris could think of was how unbelievably dark it was.

How much time passed? Had she fainted? Died? She searched for a familiar, golden star and could not find one.

Not gold. Blue. In what could’ve been a blink of an eye, she found herself staring at a ceiling full of twinkling blue and violet stars. She landed on her back on a soft patch of earth and went still.

Chapter 17

Ferris needed a moment to collect bearings. She took slow, deliberate breaths, trying to process where she was and what just happened. The rift was gone. So was the autumn chill in the air, replaced by the feeling of damp soil seeping through a layer of grass and the thick fabric of her tunic. She squinted up at the supposed stars, discerning that they were instead countless gems embedded within a rocky ceiling. Light rippled off them. She could hear the faint sound of running water in the distance. Turning her head, she spotted a variety of blue, bioluminescent plants scattered about a large field.

It reminded her of the underground tunnels that led to Kobalt's home. Good. Maybe that meant that she was still somewhere within the Two Kingdoms after all. She could only imagine what Ciara, or Valda, or anyone else would think if she just vanished without a trace. Still, if the others in the guild found her once, they could find her again—

The young woman sat up with a startling realization, whipping her head back and forth as she scanned the area. 

"Cas...?" the nickname pulled itself from her lips, rising in a shout as she said it a second time, "Cas?!"

The hold he'd had on her soul disappeared the moment she felt her body hit the ground. If she really lost him or he ended up dusted, their masters might kill her, quite literally kill her. It wasn't just out of a misplaced fondness for the skeleton: If anything happened to him, it could potentially damage the guild's relationship with the Monster Kingdom as a whole.  His father would surely riot, and then— 

"I'm here," Castellar's bitter voice spat from some patch of grass a few meters away. Crawling over, she peered through the stiff blades to find him sprawled out with a smear of mud coating the right side of his face. Aside from the mess, he was otherwise fine. He furrowed his brows at the ceiling above, as though he was resisting the urge to glare at back her.    

Ferris sat down once more with a sigh. The false alarm passed, she resumed taking stock of their situation. There were signs of natural paths, but really, it was impossible to say how far the caverns went. Water flowed in and out of subtle rivets in the walls, carried on along shallow streams. The familiar was nowhere to be seen. 

She took off her outer tunic, tying its sleeves around her waist. She felt a little less cold without a wet splotch pressing against her back.

"This is your fault," the skeleton huffed, not budging from his indention in the grass.

"Oh, shut it."

"You're the worst."

"You didn't have to cling onto me."

At last, Castellar sprung into a sitting position and turned to her as if he was about to erupt. He stopped himself short, inhaling deeply. Once he recomposed himself, he followed her example by removing his own outer shirt, using it to wipe off the mud before standing up.

“I’m going to kill that fox,” he grumbled, “I’ll have her hide for a hat.”

“Could you?” Ferris smirked, knowing just how empty of a threat that was.

However, her expression faltered when Castellar summoned a bone staff into his hand. She had multiple reasons to doubt that he’d actually attempt to harm the familiar; from the simple fact that he likely couldn’t in the first place to how he always acted more cautious and annoyed rather than genuinely outraged by the creature’s antics. Ferris wasn’t quite sure that an incident like this would push him over the edge.

“She might be our only way back to the Boroughs,” she reminded him.

“I’m aware,” he said in an irked tone, only seeming to realize how he looked afterward. Castellar took another second to relax his shoulders. Nevertheless, his brow stayed furrowed, and his gaze flickered across the cavern. “I thought I saw someone else when we fell through.”

Ferris paused, unsure what to make of his claim, then rose to her feet as well. She certainly hadn’t seen anyone—she didn’t know how anyone could see anything at all in the rift’s sheer darkness. Even now, they could only see so far in any direction because of the unusual, subterranean flora. Still, it wasn’t like Castellar to jump at shadows.

“Who were they?” she asked, lowering her voice.

He hesitated, not meeting her gaze, “I don’t know, some sort of specter.”

Her skepticism turned to confusion, then exasperation. He’d used the word ‘specter,’ not ‘ghost.’ If he’d said the latter, she might’ve thought he was talking about someone from the monster subspecies, like Starecrow or Casmara—another guild member—back home. She would’ve dismissed this, assuming he misspoke, were it not for how embarrassed he looked about it.

“A specter…” she echoed, her flat tone causing him to wince.

He didn’t say anything. The fact that he didn’t retract his words was all the confirmation she needed.

“Specters aren’t real, Castellar.”

“I know what I saw, Ferris,” he shot back. Even so, it was as if he didn’t fully believe it himself. She could see him trying to make sense of whatever trick the shadows had played on him. “There was a face. Someone watching us. It looked humanoid, but I can’t say for certain when it was all so quick.”

Maybe it was partly thanks to the dim, unfamiliar atmosphere, but the more the skeleton kept insisting, the young woman ultimately felt herself grow uneasy. She’d never believed in specters, not even as a little girl. They were just exciting stories to tell around a warm fire. Given his rigid personality, she imagined that it was the same for Castellar. On the off chance that he did see someone, it was worth taking caution.

For the time being though, she would enjoy teasing him, “I never thought you were one to jump at phantoms, but then again, you’re always bothered when Starecrow’s around, aren’t you?”

“Forget it,” he cut her off, knowing he wouldn’t get through to her any further. He began to check the earth at their feet.

Ferris did as well. She didn't consider herself to be an experienced tracker, but the ground was good for prints and surely there weren't many other foxes gallivanting nearby. Sure enough, the two mages found a trail within ten minutes of searching.

The sound of rushing water grew louder as they travelled. One of the streams widened into a heavy waterfall that flowed off a cliffside and down into the cave’s depths—far beyond anything the two of them could see. Again, Ferris was reminded of the camp of runaways. Was it possibly down there someplace? Had she unknowingly looked up upon this same cliff when they were lost in the tunnels that ran by their hiding place? Considering that there was no safe or easy way to find out, she let the questions drop.  

The pair had to wade through the water at multiple points. It was either so slippery or the current so swift that Ferris had to reluctantly give Castellar her hand whenever they crossed. It made for slow progress. 

Over time, the grassy marsh would give way to solid rock before returning to wetland yet again. They were moving across one of the rare, relatively dry spots when they completely lost the trail. It was a wide area too: No low, branching tunnels to choose from, just an open chamber large enough to make for a small, sparse woodland.

Ferris peered up at a radiant tree growing atop a nearby overhang. It looked to be a type of slender pine, but with white bark and leaves that cast a cerulean shade. Its branches were slim and spread apart, but the young woman felt confident that she could still climb it. "I'll take a quick look."      

"There's no sense in risking it." Castellar folded his arms across his chest as she made her way over to the tree. "You won't see far in this gloom to begin with."

"We're already walking about blindly," she countered, "It couldn't hurt to try." 

Having no argument there, the skeleton waited as she scaled onto the overhang. Ferris stuck close to the trunk, hooking her feet within the crooks of each branch as though they were ladder rungs. With each swaying motion, she'd pause, readjust her weight, and give the tree a moment to straighten itself back out.  

She stopped just short of reaching the top. Ferris couldn't see the walls of their current chamber, but she could guess where they were from the way the plant life abruptly halted alongside glistening waterways or some otherwise invisible edge. There was no sense in backtracking. One direction likely only followed the falls they’d seen earlier. She tried meditating over it, but—while it was not entirely unexpected—she had difficulty pinpointing a specific route.

Just as Ferris started to make her way down to report her findings, she noticed one last thing: Castellar was gone.

It wasn’t like him to pull pranks. For him to vanish as quietly and suddenly as he did, there had to be a reason. The young woman was irritated by his disappearance all the same.

Here he makes a fuss over what I do, she fumed in her head, then he goes and takes off without a word!

If they were in any immediate danger, surely, she would’ve sensed it! Predicting that much was one of the best tricks she had under her belt. No, the luminous wetland was just as empty as when they arrived, with only the scurry of mice or insects to keep them company.

Ferris debated on staying put, but only for a moment. If Castellar thought it well and good to wander off on his own, then she didn’t see why she couldn’t do the same. If either of them found the familiar first, they could just use her to track the other down.

Following the path upstream led her to a spot overgrown with water sausages and another series of tunnels. She found a shallow place to cross and explored further. At first, there was nothing remarkably different from anything else she’d seen thus far, with only some mushrooms piquing her curiosity. Ferris pocketed a few to take back to the Boroughs with her and kept moving.

Following this, however, the seer entered a tunnel that distorted her senses. At its entrance, nothing stood out. It was short and narrow: She could easily see into the chamber on the other end and the tall weeds beyond that. The moment she set foot inside though, the tunnel seemed to double in length.

A door appeared that Ferris didn’t spot before. Oddly enough, it wasn’t its sudden manifestation that really concerned her—even when the fact that one would be there at all was already out-of-place. What bothered her was that the door was nothing like any other the young woman was familiar with.

The threshold was a perfect rectangle; no dent or groove from a craftsman’s touch or even any sign of weathering. She thought it might be made of wood, but there was only a single, heavy sheet of it, not planks. It had no reinforcements and seemed as though someone had coated it in a thick layer of paint. There was no sliding bolt; only a strange handle that didn’t give until she felt it twist with a slight spring fighting back against her grip.

For a moment, all she could do was keep tentatively toying with the handle. If she wanted to open the door, she felt she easily could, but the more sensible part of her voiced against it. She tried to get a read on whatever could possibly await her on the other side… and sensed nothing. Absolutely nothing.    

A glimmer of gold light broke Ferris out of her trance. She peered around the next corner to find a save point that had been hiding right past her immediate line of sight. Almost instantly, she pulled herself away from the door to turn her full attention to it.

FERRIS LV3
Mt. Ebott — Crystal Tunnel
Save Return 

She didn’t save, just in case she had to go to her last resort in order for them to escape the caves. Nevertheless, just knowing where they were and confirming that it was somewhere within the Two Kingdoms gave her some relief.

Ferris glanced back the way she came, ready to inspect the door once again, but it wasn’t there anymore. When she reentered the tunnel, it was just as short as it appeared on the outside. Trying to repeat her steps only ended in the same result.

The wonder and tranquility Ferris might’ve felt toward this place was slowly turning into dread. She marched back the way she came, suddenly eager to find Castellar and hurry out of there.

There was no telling where he went. Trained soldier that he was, he didn’t leave prints easily. She almost resorted to shouting his name when she heard him first—or at least, she thought she did.

“…face me!”

It was hardly more than an angry whisper. She followed the sound to a tall flower with velvety petals that radiated with the same blue glow as most of the other flora. Squatting down to marvel at it, it played back Castellar’s voice louder than the first time.

“Whatever game you think this is, I’m not amused. If you want something, come out and face me!”

Ferris grimaced. A part of her wanted to believe that the skeleton truly was only yelling at shadows, the isolated atmosphere starting to get to the both of them. Another part told her that that simply couldn’t be the case. She couldn’t keep herself from thinking of the supposed specter that Castellar thought he saw.

There were more of the same flowers, echoing fragments of a one-sided conversation from where Castellar had apparently stayed on the move, hunting who or whatever was playing tricks on him. Ferris sprinted from one bloom to the next until the wet woodland nearly gave way to a cliffside facing a deep pool of water. She called out to the skeleton, just in case he was still closeby, when something sliced into her waist from behind.   

Chapter 18

It wasn’t a deep cut. She’d managed to catch a warning flash of red at the last second, diving sideways and spinning around to face her attacker. Ferris gritted her teeth at the stinging tear in her flesh and subtle drop in HP. She raised a hand and swung a triage of bullets that forced her opponent back—

It was Castellar.

The young seer froze. For a moment, it was hard to discern the reality in front of her; the splintered staff in his hand or the bright red liquid that painted its edge. She briefly wondered if this was another one of the cavern’s tricks, or if her visions were starting to affect her even when she was awake. Avoiding her attack, he skid in the dirt, eyes flashing with a ferocity she wasn’t used to.

That moment’s hesitation was all he needed to launch himself forward—his staff aimed for her head next.  Ferris again dodged, manifesting her Astral Dagger and extending it in time to block a third swing. The blades locked.

“What is your problem?!” she yelled at him, but her words didn’t seem to reach him.

This sudden betrayal didn’t bother her. Even though it caught her off-guard, it was something she always told herself to brace for. Maybe he planned to complete the mission his father gave him all those years ago. They were alone now, and no one in the guild knew where they’d gone, so perhaps there wasn’t a better opportunity.

What bothered Ferris was the intent she felt behind each one of his attacks. Blood continued to ooze from her side. It was getting harder and harder to keep their weapons locked as Castellar’s strength gradually began to overwhelm hers.

This wasn’t the intensity she felt when they sparred or when they’d fought as children. This time, he meant to kill her. That wasn’t like him, if only because he knew better.

She looked again his face and realized he wasn’t looking at her. Not really. His gaze didn’t quite meet hers, as if he was looking through her or at someone of a different size. The lights of his eyes were oddly dilated, and while she might’ve expected to see them flare a familiar aqua… there was a very faint crimson rim that traced them now.

Crimson magic was the one type that monsters could not use. She’d never heard of a spell that transferred visions to someone else either. What was happening?

The skeleton at last broke their stalemate, forcing her to retreat. Each strike that followed pushed her further and further toward the cliff’s edge. Whatever Castellar thought he was seeing, she had to get him to snap out of it!

With a brutish cry, Ferris focused whatever strength was left in her arms to brush his staff away in a wide, clumsy strike. It wasn’t enough to make him drop it, but it did give her an opening. He raised his free hand, ready to blast her into the dark water below, when she threw herself at him—ensnaring one arm around his neck and holding the length of her blade to it with the other. She tugged him with her as she leaned back into a precarious pose.

She felt his own weapon aimed at her gut, but everything stilled. In this position, either he would come to his senses or, one way or another, they would die together. Even if she managed to miss his neck, she’d drag him into the depths with her.

“It’s me, you bonehead!” she roared.

When that didn’t immediately work, she grabbed him by the back of his skull and slammed it into her own. Both of them grunted from the collision.

However, finally, Castellar’s eyes began to clear. He grimaced at first, then his sockets widened when he found his face pressed so close to hers. His pupils returned to their normal, non-distinct state and he glanced around them as if not fully recognizing where they were.

“It’s me,” Ferris repeated, her voice still firm with upset, but softer this time.

His weapon evaporated and Ferris allowed hers to do the same. Noticing the ledge, Castellar’s hands slipped around the small of her back to move them both to a safer distance.

Ferris held back a wince as his gloves traced across the open wound, but it didn’t matter. When he noticed the wet, slippery texture, he stilled. Again, the cut wasn’t deep; however, it was long—curving around her waist to the side of her stomach.

“It’s fine,” she spat, pushing herself away from him. She reached for her outer tunic to pad it over the injury.

“It’s not,” came the equally harsh reply. Just as quickly, Castellar snatched her back. A cool sensation tickled across her skin and the glow of healing magic radiated from his hands.

The young woman knotted her brow. She wanted to be stubborn, but it wasn't as if she could really afford to be in their current situation. Whatever remained of the candy she found in the maze, she’d given to Ciara. She didn’t have any potions or other healing items with her. She couldn’t exactly leave herself to bleed out for however long they kept wandering the caves.

The spell accelerated the clot over her broken skin, drying the blood into an ugly scab. It wasn’t pretty and it continued to ache, but it was better than getting a stitching.

He’s improved a bit, she noted, glancing down at his handiwork. Still, she wasn’t thrilled that he’d ruined her shirt. She could hide the wound until it fully healed and wash out the blood, but her sister would notice the tear. That, and Ferris didn’t look forward to sewing it up…

Castellar didn’t let go after he was done. His fingers remained drifting over the scab and he wouldn’t look at her directly.

Ugh! Ferris sneered. This place was driving the both of them half-mad! “Who or what do you think you saw anyway? Was it the same person from before?”

The skeleton hesitated before muttering the most unsatisfying answer he could’ve given, “It’s nothing…” 

Whatever blood hadn’t seeped out began to boil beneath her skin. Nothing... Did he really expect her to accept that he'd tried to impale her over nothing? Surely not, for at least he knew enough shame to flinch as she snatched him by the collar of his shirt. 

"After everything you just did, I think I have a right to know, don't I?" she hollered, "And for all your badgering from before, you left me! I can come back from the dead: You can't! What would you have done if you trapped yourself in some pocket or the cave collapsed while you went chasing after shadows?!" 

Mid-rant, the hand hovering over her waist abruptly captured her in a tight hold. Ferris stumbled into Castellar's chest, finding herself pinned when she attempted to draw back. In an instant, his staff returned to his hold. 

It wasn't aimed toward her: It was aimed out, facing the darkness. She followed Castellar's stern gaze to a vacant patch of earth among the trees and, at last, she saw it—a pale face gazing back at them. 

At first, Ferris thought the tall man standing in the shadows might be another skeleton. Cloaked in a pitch-black robe, the only other feature of his that she could make out was his hands, which were segmented at the joints and had a large hole carved out of each palm. However, even for the painted skeleton variety—like Castellar was—she thought the details of his face were too smooth. His sockets were slanted in a calm grin, but were as dark as the cave itself. From them, two long, vertical cracks ran in opposite directions: One running along the curve of his head and the other across his cheek before splitting into the line of his mouth.      

He spoke, but not in any sort of tongue that Ferris could recognize. To her, it sounded echoed and garbled; more akin to a machine's voice than a man's. If Castellar understood him, he didn't bother translating. With an unflinching stare, all he did was press the young woman closer against himself. The stranger raised a hand, pointing at them. Her guildmate's hold tightened to the point of pain, and she worried that her wound might open back up. 

The stranger's body began to flicker. It made him pause, then he lowered his head in an almost disappointed expression. He uttered one last, indecipherable thing before vanishing from view in a blink of an eye.

Not knowing if he might reappear, the two mages stayed where they were for several minutes. They hastily positioned their backs against one another's, waiting for even the slightest change in the quiet atmosphere. Even when no change occurred, they still weren't fully at ease. 

"The next time I tell you there's a specter," Castellar exhaled, "there's a damn specter."    

---

The pair were too rattled to bicker as usual. Other than for the occasional comment on where to go, only the trickle of water and drone of the caves filled the silence.  

Ferris held back a yawn. Getting an early start to the morning, attending the festival, patrolling the Boroughs, and now this... She was beginning to grow tired. She didn't know how many hours had passed, but assumed it was at least sometime after dawn. 

Everyone at the guild would be wide awake by now: They had to know they were missing. Ciara had to be worried sick. Ferris wasn’t sure how their masters would react, whether they’d trust her and Castellar to take care of themselves or assume the worst. She really didn’t want to consider what sort of punishment awaited them upon their return…

Meanwhile, the paths ahead of them remained endless. If they found themselves in the worst scenario, if they couldn’t find the familiar or make it out from under Mt. Ebott on their own, Ferris was confident that they could survive until help came to them. Ferris recognized a few of the plants that grew in the area, like water sausages, so they wouldn’t go hungry. It troubled her more to think that their sanities might not last that long—not if they had a second run-in with that spirit.

Castellar refused to tell her anything no matter how much she prodded him for information. When she asked why he left her, he admitted he was lured away, but wouldn’t go into detail. When she once more pressed him to tell her about his vision, or illusion, or whatever he saw, he brushed her off. When she asked if he knew what the specter had been trying to say, he said no. Something in his expression told her that he was lying.

“Let’s simply agree never to speak of this ghost story again,” he eventually said to shut down her questions, rubbing his temple, “I can only imagine what everyone back home would think if we told them.”

True. The likes of Iva and Tobius would definitely laugh off the whole incident as a trick of the darkness; the isolation spooking them into seeing things that weren’t there. Ferris tried tracking the specter through her magic, but she couldn’t track where he had come from or gone to. He hadn’t left a trace of evidence that he’d ever existed.

She paused, catching the slip-up in Castellar's words. It was a habit she too often tried to avoid, or perhaps she wouldn’t have thought much of it at all. Home…

“Do you actually intend to become the next guildmaster?”

The change in her line of questions seemed to give the skeleton tonal whiplash. He opened his mouth to bark another dismissive retort, stopped, and turned to face her with an odd look. “Ferris, I don’t think now is the time or place for this.”

She didn’t budge. If he couldn’t answer her plainly on anything else, she wanted to hear this much—without their masters, or their guildmates, or anyone else having their own say.

The decision was for the guild’s future and, by extension, the Two Kingdoms as well: Fine, she could tolerate that. Young though they were, just based on talent and administrative skill, she could admit that Castellar was a fit choice to lead. However, was there really a future in which he would set aside all other duties for the sake of the Boroughs?

With their history, was there any kind of future in which she’d come to rely on him so deeply?

Seeing that she wouldn’t take another step if he failed to say anything, Castellar reluctantly gave in. He began by echoing much of the talk he’d had with Lord Weaver:

“I’ve four siblings. I don’t think anyone is expecting me to aim for my father’s title. Per se,” he motioned for her to keep moving, “My family has simply always defended the borders of the Monster Kingdom. As long as I fulfill that duty, how I go about it is… mostly, irrelevant.  

“I didn’t want to come to Arnaud’s at first. As you were likely told, it was my father’s idea, so we could observe Madame Valda and the rest of the guild’s mages. I think Tobius already knew that; however, he still gave me the liberty to study what I wished. There were so many books I’d never seen, magical theories I’d never read, perspectives I’d never heard of, and all of it was overwhelming. And addictive. I know what my role is. I’m just still trying to figure out to play it.”

The young woman pursed her lips. All in all, it was still a roundabout way of telling her nothing. Nevertheless, while she would’ve rather been given a straight answer… this was a rare side to him that she could empathize with. After all, Madame Valda had practically done the same for her.

The two of them were locked into roles they never asked for; given talents that were their blessing and their curse. They were traded and used, seen only for what they could do, yet somehow miraculously landed in the hands of people who gave them more opportunities than they’d ever thought were open to them—people who made the weight of their duties a little easier to bear.

The air gradually became muggy. For Ferris, it wasn’t intolerable, but far from enjoyable when her clothes were better suited for the cold. It got to the point where she couldn’t stand it, leaving only a thin, linen shirt to cover her chest. It was modest, but a far-cry from appropriate. Castellar balked at her.

Before he could say one word, she glared at him, “When you suddenly get flesh and it feels like it’s melting off of your bones, then you can have an opinion.”

Ferris wondered just how far underground they were. They followed pockets of steam that led them to a natural spring.

There, they found the fox. Reclined in the water. With a small towel folded atop her head.

For a second, Castellar looked like he was reconsidering not trying to kill the familiar. He marched over and grabbed her by the scruff of her neck. “Take us back to the Boroughs. Now.”

The fox whined indignantly, holding her legs up and enveloping her tails around herself.

“Do you have any idea what your portal jumping put us through? I’ve watched you—you don’t even need them!”

The exchange was getting them nowhere fast. While Ferris understood Castellar’s feelings, she also knew that the familiar wasn’t going to take them back until she was good and ready. She began to take off her boots.

The skeleton blinked at her, “What are you doing?”

“Trying to relax,” she replied, sitting atop of a nearby boulder and dipping her feet into the water. “You should probably do the same. I doubt she’d abandon us here, so let’s just wait.”

The skeleton frowned, side-eyed the fox, and then placed her back into the spring with a quiet sound of annoyance. He plopped down beside Ferris, but with his back to the water, folding his arms across his chest.

Happy to have her way, the fox swam over to rest on a rock near Ferris’ legs. Her tails swished contently.

Ferris gazed out at the stretch of wetland beyond their little nook. She could hear one of the rushing falls in the distance. The peculiar blue flowers swayed from an unknown breeze. Even through the steam, gemstones glistened lazily around them. Now that she had a moment to enjoy the scene, the young woman couldn’t help but find it mesmerizing.

The warm water eased her aching muscles. She closed her eyes.

Chapter 19

Ferris could only vaguely remember how they’d returned to the Boroughs. She recalled Castellar barking at her to throw her boots and tunic back on, then stepping into the guildmaster’s office in the same, abrupt way they’d landed in the caverns to begin with; however, she was in such a groggy state at the time that she didn’t know how she’d managed to get to and from those points. She’d only fully awoken after she felt the blast of mid-morning light coming through the window and saw Tobius’ stunned—but not altogether surprised—expression.

Thankfully, they hadn’t had to give more than a brief report. The fox’s presence and their disheveled appearances said enough. Afterwards, Tobius ordered them to make a quick stop to the infirmary, rest, and get ready to work like mad to make up for the scare.

Like always, Ferris and Castellar avoided crossing paths when they could, but something was different. Now, when they had to engage, they avoided speaking entirely.

It was Castellar who initiated the long silence. He didn’t respond to Ferris’ snark, saving whatever discussion that did pass between them for when they had an audience. It didn’t bother Ferris: There were no pointless pleasantries, no forced attempts to get along. Moreover, she was just too busy to worry over it. Her training had intensified and there were too many local affairs to deal with.

Sickness naturally increased as winter settled in, putting her medicinal skills to use. Every seer stayed alert for fear of a hailstorm or flooding—not to mention possible attacks as nature’s resources dwindled and stories of marauders grew. There was a newly adoptive family that needed instruction regarding monster children and how their magic could erupt in moments of intense emotion.  

Ferris had just returned from visiting said family on the outskirts of the Boroughs when she received word that the guild was about to get another young member. Iva’s water broke.

To call things chaotic was an understatement. Iva was moved to a private room away from much of the guild’s traffic. Even so, there were far too many busybodies lingering about. The healers and midwife had more volunteers than they needed to fetch hot water. Dom spent much of his time dragging away nosy students who wanted to see the birth. Ferris’ and Iva’s roommates were gathered together, wanting something to do, but only clucking at one another like a bunch of hens.  

Both Iva’s and Percy’s masters—Camlet and Crococus, the Heads of the Orange and Purple Mages respectively—waited out in the hall for moral support. Camlet, a fabric-like monster with a flair for the dramatic, had stretched himself into a tizzy across the narrow space. Crococus, the old reptile that he was, did nothing more than stand hunched over his cane with a sour look. Nevertheless, the way his eyes sharply darted to the door each time it opened revealed his anxiety.

They were both better off than Hystrangea. The Head of the Green Mages had boasted nonstop how prepared she was for this birth—that she had overseen the delivery of many monster children and the care of their parents. Now, the flustered mess of petals sat huddled in a ball in the corner. Given nothing to do except sit and wait herself, Ferris plopped down on the floor beside her.

“You humans sure are something else…” Hystrangea mumbled into her lap.

Ferris smirked, “Aren’t there plenty of monsters that have children the same way we do?”

The green mage groaned. Clearly, none of those monsters were among the ones she’d helped deliver.

The young woman patted her head. Although Hystrangea was at least twice her age, her small size, baby face, and expressive personality made Ferris feel older than her. Besides, she supposed that the process would scare anyone. Her own mother had two miscarriages before Ciara came into the world, and women sometimes died in childbirth.

Monsters didn’t have it easy either though, from what she understood. As beings made of magic, it was more a process of transferring their very lifeforce from parent to offspring. It was why Boss Monsters lost their immortality as their children grew, and why some species had no issues with the actual birth. Some monsters essentially took pieces of themselves to create offspring. Sometimes, there was only one parent involved—granted, Ferris heard that the toll was often far greater as a result.

“Iva and her son will be fine,” she said, not for the first time that day. Almost everyone who knew what was happening pressed her and the other seers for reassurance.

Another healer ran out of the room, clutching a bundle of scorched fabric with a trail of smoke following behind. Apparently, someone had said something to upset Iva and she torched a pillow by accident.  

Not long after that, Garrick—the guild’s Head Physician, only one position under Hystrangea—entered the hall. As all eyes turned to him, he gave the crowd a sheepish smile and waved his hand, echoing the same sentiments Ferris had just uttered.

Between his gentle disposition; vibrant, green eyes; and golden locks with a handsome stubble, Garrick had more than his share of admirers. Nevertheless, like most of Arnaud’s leaders, he favored a ‘tough love’ approach to getting things done. Seeing Hystrangea on the sidelines, he quickly ushered her to work.

“I’m not allowed in there,” he reminded her, shoving a cup into her leafy arms, “I’ve mixed up some herbs. See to it that she drinks this! Even Percy is in the laboratory right now, trying to help!”

Hearing this, Crococus took off. Ferris wondered if she should follow after him. It probably wasn’t a good idea to have two nervous men fiddling with lab equipment.

However, as Hystrangea was pushed inside the room with a half-terrified look, she decided to stay put. She couldn’t claim to have much experience with this sort of thing either, but would wait to see where she might be needed.

Hours passed and eventually, in the dead of night, Iva and Percy’s son finally arrived.

He was a cute boy, his skin only a shade lighter than his mother’s. He had dark eyes, which some were curious about until the older mages explained that it wasn’t really genetic. His eyes could change color as they got older, or if they didn’t, it wasn’t necessarily a sign that he wouldn’t manifest any magical talent. He was simply a new soul.

Aside from other women, Iva would have to remain isolated until the baptism. She found the whole thing annoying and no one pushed her to follow that tradition, but she insisted upon it anyway for her family’s sake. Ferris, Ciara, and the other girls offered to keep her company as much as possible.

---

About two weeks later, Ferris was practicing her spellcasting with Madame Valda in a field a short distance from the guild. They’d opted not to travel all the way to the tournament grounds, but needed to stay far enough from the compound so that a stray spell wouldn’t cause any damage. That day, her teacher didn’t offer to spar with her. Instead, Ferris was instructed to cast different spells from each category of magic.

Her Astral Dagger was basic, familiar. There were others with names that Ferris kept to herself, all that followed a celestial or temporal theme:

Starlight Dancer: Blue magic. A spell she could cast on herself or others to allow them to move swift distances in any direction with ease. It was essentially what she learned from watching Tobius and Castellar manipulate gravity.

Solar Strike: Yellow magic. It was a definite favorite of hers for its versatility. She hurled a solar disc through the air, able to change its direction or cause it to explode. Sometimes, it was a long-range attack; other times, it served as a shield by ricocheting other spells thrown her way.

Lunar Strike: Cyan magic. Typically, she used it as a quick attack against charging opponents, firing off a beam of light. With enough focus, she could channel the magic for them from any lunar discs she’d already cast.

Blazing Dawn: Orange magic. The sight alone of the massive fireball erupting from the ground was enough to stun some enemies—much to their misfortune.

Healer’s Aurora: Green magic. With a great deal of effort, she’d managed to craft her own healing spell, albeit a weak one. Surrounding her target with a soft, verdant glow, she could deal with everyday cuts and scrapes. She’d been so proud of herself when she’d first used it on Gwen and Ciara…

Turning the Hourglass: Purple magic. Ferris knew enough about poisons that making a spell that served as one never appealed to her. She focused on trap-based spells instead. She didn’t use it often, but it was funny to catch a troublemaker within its rotating pattern now and then.

Threads of Fate: Crimson magic. These were the strongest and surest of the red cords that instinctively appeared for her in times of danger. So long as she stayed conscious of them, she could evade most of whatever anyone threw at her.

Each and every spell had been crafted with care. They were the fruits of her training, her connections; echoes of herself and the people who helped her come this far.

However, as Ferris took a short break while nursing a cup of cold tea in her hands, Madame Valda revealed that she had one more thing to teach her.

They spent the rest of the lesson in a deep state of meditation. Sitting atop a thin blanket sprawled across the chilled soil, Valda held her student’s hands firmly in her own. Left mostly in the dark, it took Ferris a while to steady herself. She felt the energy around her shift at Valda aided her through her trance.

And then she felt nothing. Her soul seemed to be set adrift.

This wasn’t the emptiness that greeted her whenever she died, or the lost feeling she had when scrambling to see too far ahead into the future. This was something else entirely, like staring at a large text for too long. It was messy and overwhelming, powerful and horrifying. Runes and letters and numbers; lines packed into neat, little boxes that seemed to stretch on eternally; things she knew she wasn’t supposed to see and, thank God, were well beyond her reach—   

She didn’t know she was trembling until Madame Valda’s voice called her back to reality.

“I always meant to teach you this when you were ready,” the elder seer told her, her faint smile doing nothing to hide the concern in her gaze.

What this was… even when her wits came back to her, Ferris couldn’t make any sense of it. The young woman fought to calm her racing heart. She held her master’s hands in a vice-like grip, as if to anchor herself.

Were Madame Valda’s eyes always so dim?

“It’s the most powerful spell anyone with our ability can achieve. If you can master it,” she continued in a steady tone, making sure that Ferris took in her every word, “there is a way for you to leap forward and back across time without using the save points or dying. Although, the toll it may take on your soul is… immeasurable. I pray you never find cause to use it, and I kept this from you because you needed to learn something else first.”

Before she realized it, Ferris found herself pulled into Valda’s arms. For them, an embrace like this was not shared often. It wasn’t their way, and Ferris only remembered her teacher holding her in such a manner one other time—on an evening when she’d suffered a particularly grim and violent nightmare that nothing else would shake her from.

“When I peer into your future, I see a strong, resolute woman who would do anything for those she loves,” Valda’s cold fingers cupped her student’s cheek, “You love life very deeply, Ferris. You love good food, and nature, and laughter. You love discovery. You love your sister, and, in your time here, I’ve watched you fall in love with the Boroughs and its people.

“But I need you to love yourself too. You came to me a girl too comfortable with throwing her own life away. Our ability is not one that should be used by those who can’t cherish the time they are given, and so I watched and waited for you to fear death again.”

Ferris listened to her teacher carefully, but chuffed, “I think I might be too selfish for you to worry about that. If anything, maybe you should worry about my greed.”

“You’re not selfish enough. Not where it counts.”

The two seers rose to their feet and packed up what few items they’d brought with them. While the sun had yet to dip below the horizon, the guild was already lit with a warm glow that welcomed them back.

Some time after that, not long after the first snow had fallen, Madame Valda passed away.

Chapter 20

Madame Valda never made a point to discuss how she wanted her funeral to be done—maybe it was her way of trying not to trouble anyone. She only ever gave Ferris a single, clear instruction in private:

“After I am gone, do not go back for me. Trust that I have taught you all I could and let my soul move on.”

And so, she was cremated, following that it was more common practice in the Boroughs than it was in the Human Kingdom. Only a few personal items would be buried in a small grave by the church. The two sisters said nothing against it. Although Ciara wanted no direct part of it at first, in the end, she stood at Ferris’ back—eyes shut with one hand tightly clasped in her older sibling’s—as the pyre was lit.

It was announced that Ferris would inherit the role as Master Seer not long after. Some already anticipated it. The few who voiced against it due to her lack of experience quieted after the reminder that, out of what handful of crimson mages there were at Arnaud’s, she was the only student that Valda had taken as her own apprentice. The sheer strength of her magical abilities halted any further dissent.

People asked if she or Ciara needed anything. The girls declined these offers, preferring to handle their affairs alone. They moved upstairs almost immediately, unable to stand the questions and pitying glances of their roommates for long. The floor was silent as they dragged their belongings to the room that had once been Valda’s.

“It won’t be as large,” Ferris warned her sister in-advance.

Ciara shook her head and replied in a soft voice, “I don’t mind.”

Neither of them did. They were used to sharing a space. While the guild’s private quarters were only intended for one person each—reserved for its leaders, special guests, or those willing to pay an additional fee—they could easily board two anyway.     

The room’s furnishings were more on the plain side, not too dissimilar from what they’d used downstairs. The bed and trunk were larger. There was a chair, a desk, and a narrow armoire with extra blankets and other odds and ends tucked inside. A bundle of familiar, dried flowers hung from wall. Unsurprisingly, Madame Valda—who had always spent much of her free time in the study—had collected far too many books and candles. Ferris half-expected that some of the tomes were from the guild’s own shelves.

They almost didn’t want to touch anything. It took the sisters a moment before they dared entered the room.

Someone had brought up Valda’s urn. It was sitting atop the desk next to a mess of papers. Valda had no children, or any other family that she’d told anyone about. Whenever the matter was brought up, the old woman would grin and say that those things were long-forgotten desires.

That left the two sisters to help her on the final stretch of her journey. The only reason they’d hesitated this long after the funeral was because it took them a while to decide what to do with the ashes.

Best get it over with… Ferris told herself, resisting the lump in her throat, while there’s still daylight.

Dropping her things by the door, she picked up the urn, then paused. Some of the words on the topmost sheet of parchment in the stack caught her attention. She braced the urn against her chest, gingerly holding the paper between her fingers as she read it.

Something broke inside of her. With a deep breath, she leaned against the desk on the verge of tears.  

Ciara hurried over from the other side of the room. “What is it?”

Ferris handed her the paper in response. Her reaction, while more reserved, wasn’t much different.

Aside from a customary offering to the church and a few keepsakes to old friends, Madame Valda had requested that what she had to give be left to them. Their days could go on without the fear of living off the streets ever again.

Ferris and Ciara moved over to the bed. They laid back-to-back over the sheets, neither wanting to grieve by themselves, yet unwilling to show their faces to one another. The older sister continued to hold the urn to her chest, a hand clutched over its lid to keep it from spilling.

Daylight shined through the nearby window. Ferris stared at the shimmering particles dancing in the sun’s rays.

There was no warning the day their parents were killed. She’d had a few months to brace herself for her master’s death—which had been a peaceful one, by anyone’s definition. So why did she feel so underprepared?

“We’re alone again,” her sister whispered into the sheets.

Ferris felt a crushing pressure surround her heart when she heard this, but her own words carried an unflinching certainty. “No, we’re not.”   

Once they’d regained their composure, the girls stepped back out into the hall and took the urn with them. Their last goodbye would be a private ceremony. They were halfway down the stairs when they almost bumped into Castellar as he was climbing up them. Lost in thought, he startled to a stop and braced himself against the railing with one hand. His eyes flashed between the two sisters, then drifted to the container in Ferris' arms. 

Seconds passed and the trio stayed rooted in-place. Castellar's jaw was slack, as if he had something to say, but the words wouldn't quite form. The young woman waited curiously, unsure of what he wanted. Whatever condolences needed to be shared between them, they'd already exchanged during the funeral service.

In the end, he said nothing. Ciara tugged on her older sister's sleeve and the pair walked around him. Ferris felt his lingering gaze until they made their way down to the common area and out into foyer. 

Well, there went her peaceful mornings. Remembering that the skeleton's room was only a couple doors away from Valda's, she imagined that their best attempts to avoid each other would be for naught. Garrick and his former student, Fawna, took up the two rooms in-between theirs. Maybe their presence would deter them from butting heads so often. Camlet was just across the hall. Knowing him, he would try to goad them further...

She missed Iva already. As the guild's Potions Master, Percy had every opportunity to move his family into the compound, but the couple had instead found a home for themselves just down the road not long after they were wed. It made sense if they planned to have more children in the near future, but it also meant that there was one less person for Ferris to talk to. They'd returned to their love-nest shortly after their son's baptism, and it was unlikely that Iva would resume any of her regular visits to the guild at least until after winter's end. 

"Will you miss rooming with Gwen and the others?" she asked Ciara, only then realizing that her younger sibling was practically in the same boat.

"I can see Gwen all the time between chores and lessons," Ciara reassured her, "I'd rather stay with you."

Bundled close to one another, the duo stepped outside. The snow was piled past their ankles and a couple of apprentices were hard at work shoveling it away from the building. They followed the path through the Boroughs, the smell of the lush, rolling fields that covered its landscape in the autumn now replaced by the scents of freshly-chopped wood and roasting meat.

They passed the square and Blue Moon’s. The tavern’s door flew open and Gourdita peered out, stopping herself short of rushing after them.

“Do you girls have some time to spare this evening?”

Ferris and Ciara shared a glance with each other. “No, I’m afraid. Not really.”

“Well… I’m testing new spices in my drinks. Be sure to come over and try them soon.” The vegetoid flashed her fangs at them meekly. “Or, if you’d just like to keep a bunch of jabbering coots company, that’s fine too. First round will be on the house.”

The eldest sister returned the soft expression, “We might take you up on that offer. Some other day though.”

No one else interrupted their journey after that. They climbed onto a large hill overlooking the countryside. Fortunately, there was a decent enough wind, which the girls kept to their backs.   

For as long as anyone had known her, Madame Valda had devoted her life to the Boroughs and the Arnaud Guild. She had served as the Head of the Crimson Mages back when many of its current leaders were young children. Ferris liked to think that, wherever Madame Valda was, she was watching over them still. It was only fitting to scatter her ashes someplace that reflected as much.

It took Ferris a minute to steady her resolve. She wordlessly asked her sister if she too was ready. Ciara gave her a slow nod.

Goodbye, you old bat, the young woman told her departed master, convincing herself that she was fine with letting go.

They returned to their new room to finish their unpacking without further delay. They pulled out the extra blankets and piled them onto the bed. They debated getting a second one, but ultimately decided it wasn’t necessary—especially given how cold the nights would be. They set aside the candles that were beyond use to recycle the wax for new ones. The desk was reorganized and the books separated into two piles: Which ones could be kept and which ones needed to be returned to the study.

Ferris hid one of these books from Ciara’s view: The private journal that had been passed down from time-traveler to time-traveler. It contained notes dating back to practically the guild’s infancy. Perhaps, like others had before her, it was better to entrust it to the guildmaster for safekeeping.

She didn’t want to though, not yet. She didn’t like the idea of having to ask Tobius—and, eventually, Castellar—every time she wanted to read what was now her book anyway.

“Maybe we should get another trunk?” she suggested. Usually, what was hers was Ciara’s, and her sister knew that. However, perhaps the fact that they had so little privacy among their old roommates and so little that they could call their own for so long had taught Ciara to respect another’s personal belongings at a faster rate than most.

Ciara thought about it, trying to measure how much room they had to stack their belongings with Valda’s. They hadn’t discussed if they would sell or throw away anything yet. It would likely be a while before they reached that particular discussion.

“I think one of us could use the trunk and the other the armoire for now,” she finally answered.

Ferris took the armoire. She could hide the book under some of her clothes and place it out of Ciara’s reach.

They heard someone out in the hall announce that supper was ready. For once though, neither of them felt like eating. A while later, Avalbanshee knocked on the door to check on them. She’d brought some rolls from the kitchen, along with some candy that Monty wanted her to pass on to them. The girls thanked her and shut themselves back inside. They worked on the room until there was nothing left to sort through, and with that distraction gone, they forced themselves to sleep.

Chapter 21

During that winter, Ferris didn’t take on many jobs that called her farther away than the next town. There were too many new responsibilities she had to master at once and she didn’t feel like wandering out in the cold.

One afternoon, she took it open herself to teach some of the Borough’s history. The class was made of an odd group of students: Some of them were members of the guild and others were children that had wandered in in want of something to do, all huddled together in the common room. She did her best to tell them the story in the same, easy-to-digest way as her master taught it to her.

“In the beginning, the Boroughs was hardly more than a patch of land marking the divide between the Human and Monster Kingdoms,” she explained, “and like many other stretches of wilderness, it became a sanctuary for those who wanted to escape the feud between the two races. One of the members of this early community was the mage Arnaud, our guild’s founder.

“During his lifetime, the invading forces of our neighbors to the East had unified. This alliance allowed them to overwhelm Ebott’s own, scattered numbers. It wasn’t long before they took advantage of the divide between our people, snaking their way to the heart of Ebott in a series of small conquests. After a point, their forces had pushed so far inland that any communication between the Human and Monster Kingdom was severed. Even if our ancestors had wanted to fight on a united front, they couldn’t.”

A young, long-haired rabbit raised his hand, “How come they let it get that bad?”

“Territorial conflicts have marred out entire history,” she said, “Even back when we were just a vast number of clans separated by mountains and valleys alone, Ebott saw plenty of in-fighting. Compared to all of that, I guess you could say that our ancestors didn’t think those outside forces were a problem until they came knocking on their own doors.”

She then picked up where she left off, “However, from living in the wilds, people like Arnaud knew of hidden routes to and from the Two Kingdoms. The same paths that allowed them to avoid capture by the people they once fled from also allowed them to skirt around the invaders. They snuck messages between our armies and set ambushes in the cliffsides.

“During these missions, Arnaud was able to observe a wide range of spells and battle strategies from the people he met. He copied whatever he saw to increase his strength as a mage.”

“But people were still scared of mages,” interrupted someone from the back of the group.

Ferris nodded. “Just like today, there were some people who called him and other mages demons, or cursed beings, for possessing the combined power of magic with an already resilient physical body. Nevertheless, Arnaud put his life on the line in order to approach the Two Kings and make them see eye-to-eye; that only a unified Ebott would push our attackers back. Whether they came to accept him as a human with magical talent, a magical soul in a human body, or merely as a wise man, they inevitably agreed to use him and the early people of the Boroughs as their official mediators.

“Once the invaders were driven off, Arnaud was granted full permission to travel where he pleased in the Monster Kingdom and offered a title by the King of Humans as rewards for his efforts. Instead, he and his companions negotiated for the Boroughs to exist as an independent territory in exchange for their continued service. The tapestry you’ve seen hanging in the foyer illustrates the day that agreement was made—and those of us from the guild have worked to uphold it ever since.”

 As some of her audience left to take a closer at the tapestry, the young woman figured that that was as good a stopping point as any. She wrapped up the lesson in a few, brief sentences and dismissed those that still hung about. Maybe she wasn’t as skilled or as detailed a storyteller as Valda was, but she hoped it was a decent first try. 

"Ferris."

It was Dom. He peered inside the common room and waved her over with a letter in-hand. Seeing it alone gave the seer a bad feeling. She could count the number of times she’d received mail on her fingertips, and each one of those times had been nothing short of a chore.

Her eyes narrowed at the letter’s wax seal: A tree that’s branches sprawled out in the shape of Mt. Ebott, its roots knotted in a wide heart pattern. It was the emblem of the Human Kingdom. As ancient as the Monster Kingdom's Delta Rune, it symbolized how the people thrived upon and would one day return to Ebott's soil—distinguishing themselves as people of the earth. 

The majordomo waited for her to read it. In accordance with the Borough’s neutral position, transparency was a must. Anything that the Arnaud Guild received from either of the Two Kingdoms’ nobility was treated as an official document with very few exceptions.

‘To Ferris of the Arnaud Mages Guild, Crown Prince Denver Fanya,’ it began, ‘On behalf of my family, I wish to express congratulations toward your recent promotion. However, knowing that it comes with the burden of such great loss, I hope that you will also accept our deepest condolences. Your predecessor, Madame Valda, was truly a person of honor, and I am certain her absence shall be felt across the Two Kingdoms.

‘There is no need to respond to my message. I only hope that it finds you in good health, and I ask that you pass on my sympathies to Guildmaster Tobius and the other guild Heads as well.  

‘I have been informed that you shall be attending this summer’s Meeting of Olives, alongside one other proxy. I too shall be attending in my father’s, King Gerard Fanya’s, stead. Perhaps that shall be the earliest we see one another, for duty keeps me here in the capitol. I trust that you will be most prepared and represent our Land of Ebott well.

‘I shall patiently await our meeting. Until then, may your heart find peace just as your master does in our Lord’s embrace.’

The young woman placed a hand to her temple. There was nothing particularly wrong with the letter’s content. From an outsider’s perspective, it would seem warm, yet mostly formal. The trouble was that he shouldn’t have reached out to her at all: He should have written to the Guildmaster instead.

She had neither honor nor title. Before her apprenticeship, she had merely been another one of his subjects. Anyone would question why he’d write to her directly. They didn’t have the luxury of being young and foolish either, as they could somewhat excuse themselves as being with their first letters. It was a habit she’d come to expect from Prince Denver though, as much as she wished he’d grow out of it.

“My father has ordered me to befriend you,” he’d announced during their first meeting, back when she and Valda had been summoned to the capitol. “I think I’d like to, but not for quite the same reasons. You’ll help me put on a show for him, won’t you?”

His blunt honesty had taken her by surprise, especially since he was rather good with his words. At the time, she’d found it refreshing. Since then, however, his attempts to stay close had just been another sea of troubles for Ferris to navigate through. Any reply that she gave to his—thankfully sparse—letters had to be thoroughly reviewed and rewritten. She had to be friendly without forgetting her station or being too friendly or subservient that it appeared an Arnaud mage was cozying up to a Fanya.

Ferris wondered if the problem would get better or worse when Denver took the throne, which she supposed wouldn’t be too many years from now. King Gerard’s health was in decline and his only other heir was due to wed in a foreign land soon enough. She thought about what her guildmates had told her about King Asgore and wondered if he’d be just as troublesome.

At least the crown prince had given her an out for once. If he said she didn’t need to answer, making a point to even reference their next meeting, then she wouldn’t. She gave the letter back to Dom for filing.

“It’s all part of the job,” he told her, seeing her weary expression.

She clicked her tongue in agreement, then turned away to collect the materials she’d brought out for the day’s lesson.

Considering the letter a little more, Ferris thought it was a bit too soon for Prince Denver to have sent it. It hadn’t been that long since Madame Valda’s passing—not long enough anyway for the news to have travelled so far and for him respond to it.

Do the Fanyas have someone watching the Boroughs? If they did, it wouldn’t have shocked her: Although frowned upon, planting spies was a reasonable action for either of the Two Kingdoms. Unless Tobius and the others were still keeping a close eye on him, Castellar no doubt talked about the guild’s activities when he wrote to his family. And the mages that had tried to kidnap her early on in her apprenticeship had been from one of the three guilds that served the Fanyas:

The Ironheart Guild mostly acted as support for the army, applying their magical talents to the battlefield. The Morrigan Guild focused on research and development, particularly into crimson magic—although Valda had always described them as “a bunch of fools pretending to be geniuses and philosophers.” Lastly, the Evora Guild dominated the creation and distribution of potions across the Human Kingdom. Each one was backed by and under the direct command of the crown, and most mages likely thought it was a dream come true to work for any of them and be granted a station they could otherwise never hope for.

Still, the mages of Arnaud’s felt no shame in calling themselves the best. The only reason they hadn’t gone after any of the three in the same way they’d punished Castellar and his father was because they couldn’t prove which guild the attempted kidnappers came from or if the royal family was involved. The guildmaster only managed to discover that they were small fry from the capitol.

Unless they were given a strong reason to react, spies were something that the members of Arnaud’s ultimately had to tolerate. So long as they kept their guard up, it was a small price to pay for maintaining their autonomy. If they didn’t allow that much, their critics would just whine and bicker openly over their every action.

“Have any interesting jobs turned up?” she asked Dom as she followed him into the foyer.

“Not today,” the tough-looking boar planted himself behind his desk with a grunt. He tossed the letter onto its messy surface, then glared across the room to the mass of youngsters still hanging around the tapestry. “If you keep these up, do you mind holding you next lesson outside?”

Ferris made a pointed glance at the frost-covered window and smirked, “Not anytime soon, no.”

Dom prepared to fire some retort back at her only for one of the children to sneak around his desk and begin peeking at his paperwork. Ferris was certain the little one couldn’t read, but the fact alone that he was messing was messing with Dom’s organized chaos was enough to upset the majordomo. He began barking for anyone who wasn’t a guild member to leave, only for the children to giggle and scamper around him.

Honestly, they should’ve counted their lucky stars. Dom was far stricter on the guild’s students than he was anyone else. Knowing this, both they and Ferris slipped away while they had the chance.

As she walked by the laboratory, she looked inside to find Ciara studying hard in a group of four students split into pairs. They seemed to be experimenting different chemical reactions on rocks. The duo across from her sister though appeared more interested in mixing together whatever they could when Crococus’ back was turned.

It wasn’t long before their clumsy concoction started to hiss with an acidic burn. Bubbles spilled out from the flask, across the table, and onto the floor. The two clowns fumbled in place, panicked and with their arms stretched out toward the mess. Jaw-shaped patterns of bullets snagged them by their wrists and pinned them to the table to keep them from causing any more trouble. Crococus glowered at them dangerously. Ferris chuckled from her throat and kept moving.

More peaceful and entertainingly turbulent days would follow. The winter holidays came and went, and soon enough it was late January—when the guild would receive some unexpected, though not entirely unwelcome company.

Chapter 22

Ferris rubbed the sore muscles in her lower back. She'd spent a full day riding from homestead to homestead without pause and only returned to the guild right around sundown. Tobius had tasked her with checking the futures of the families who lived both in the Boroughs and its surrounding settlements to see if any mages could one day manifest among them. 

It was a taxing errand, which they conducted a couple times a year to hinder other guilds from poaching local talents—not that it always gave them the best of results. Beyond their seers' hazy premonitions, there was no telling how or when a human might manifest a sudden affinity for magic. Not all families agreed to getting a premonition for fear of their loved ones being recruited by force, or a wariness against them using magic at all.

The most bothersome part of it though was how few seers there were to spare for the task. Ferris was only able to send out two others to assist her and they still had a bit of ground to cover. Depending on how far the guildmaster wanted them to extend their search, it could last a few more days. 

She opted to finish her work in the study to avoid possibly waking Ciara. It was better to write down her findings now than later. She walked in to spot Camlet hunched over one of the desks, a sprawling mess of papers scattered around him. The Head of the Orange Mages fancied himself a playwright in his off-time: He was no doubt working on his next, self-proclaimed masterpiece. The young woman intended to leave him to it, sitting at an opposing table, when he perked up at the sight of her. 

"Ah! Ferris!" The permanent creases and wrinkles that made up his face shifted into a look of pleasant surprise. "Take a look at this, won't you? I could use the feedback. The Muses just aren't favoring me today as they usually do."

Several pages of parchment were shoved in front of her before she could refuse. Brushing her notes aside so they wouldn't get mixed together, she took his draft in her hands and gave him a willful, sidelong glance before squinting at the elegant handwriting. "You know I don't have an interest in these sorts of things..." she muttered.

"That's all for the better. It needs to be something even a plebian can enjoy." Realizing that he may have taken his teasing a bit too far, he wrapped himself across her shoulders to keep her from leaving. Ferris gave him another sour look, but ultimately gave the work a cursory reading:

"Sir Lambert doth protest too much. Look here—!
"See how he eyes our fairest Lady. 
"Though honest, ever sober he appears,
"Her countenance serves equal to malmsey.
"Where she may walk, he follows at her feet,
"More priest than knight, he kneels under her gaze,
"Her laugh, the sweetest hymn upon his ear,
“The radiance of heaven on his face. 
"A daubery he makes, both to himself
"And ev'ry fool lacking in sentiment.
"To deny the ardent tug of his heart,
"What could it be called but bereft of wit?
"Though friend am I, he shuts away his thoughts;
"But if such is not love, I know it not."  

Ferris held back a groan, "Not another one of your hokey love stories..."

It was a typical chivalric romance: A story of a knight in love with the lady he served, but the very oath that kept him at her side also forbade any kind of deep entanglement. She’d heard similar tales thousands of times and had grown bored with all of them.  

"But spring will be here soon, dear!" She felt Camlet loosely snake around her neck, rolling her eyes at his theatric tone. "The season of revelries and rejuvenation, the fires of passion rekindled by the warmth of the sun! It's what the people expect."

The young woman wondered what drove him to write so fervently. It wasn’t as if he had a strong backing or that his plays ever went much farther than the neighboring territories, yet the bolt of fabric always had something new to present every few months or so. She would’ve thought it was too much work, and almost told him as much when he leaned over the table to see what brought her to the study in the first place.

“It looks like I better prepare for some fresh faces,” he said, checking the number of orange mages she’d predicted would appear.

“I wish I could say the same.”

As always, they couldn’t expect many people with crimson magic. Moreover, Arnaud’s crimson mages could fall into two other roles beside her own: Historians, who often used their retrocognitive abilities to investigate ancient magic, and a nameless, jack-of-all-trades sort that could fit wherever the guild needed the most manpower.  It left Ferris with few seers to supervise, but also few people to handle whatever jobs came their way.

“It’s better than the opposite problem,” Camlet proposed, “having so many under your wings that you can’t fly away when you wish to. You’re still young. You need that freedom.”

There was a loud sound of rushing footsteps from outside the room. The two wouldn’t have noticed it at any busy hour; late as it was though, the commotion attracted their curiosity. With Camlet still hanging from her shoulders, Ferris peered into the hall.

A lapine monster banged on the door to the guildmaster’s office. Both Tobius and Castellar stepped out, some brief words were exchanged, and then the former spotted Ferris. Tobius motioned for her to follow them, “Good, you’re here. Some important guests just arrived; I want you to come with us.”

He didn’t explain anything further. They went ahead with Ferris marching a few steps behind them after shaking Camlet off. She was bewildered. What guest could possibly demand that the guildmaster drop everything he was doing in a hurry to meet them? Why drag her along?

They walked out of the building. A modest entourage turned in from the main road: A carriage guarded by three escorts on horseback. Although a sign of status, the carriage itself was rather humble, unassuming. It was large, but lacked much of any decoration. Ferris recognized Monster Kingdom armor beneath the escorts’ cloaks. What stood out to her the most though was the monster riding a draft horse at the front.

“Gerson!” Briefly forgetting her etiquette, she approached the hulking turtle only for an equally massive war hammer to block her path. The warrior gave her a subtle wink. This was standard action; nothing more, nothing less. She took the hint and stepped back.

Ferris hadn’t thought very highly of Gerson when she first met him. While he visited the Boroughs to represent the King of Monsters, the way he hovered around Castellar made her think he had other motives—that perhaps he had been sent to retrieve Castellar or finish what the traitor had started. Gradually, however, his fighting prowess, tales of heroism, and wisecracks won her over. Gerson and his shell were both rough-around-the-edges, but she had no trouble matching his energy. By now, she spent almost as much time around him as Castellar did when he came around.

Her gaze flickered over to the skeleton, wondering if he knew something about this surprise visit, but was soon distracted by the haggard look on his face. It wasn’t so simple to say that he looked tired: ‘Burdened’ and ‘distant’ might’ve been better words for it. For the life of her, she couldn’t guess why: It wasn’t as if the workload Tobius had stuck him with was any worse than previous years.

If it kept him from scolding her for acting out of turn as he usually might’ve, then she tried not to let it get to her.

Tobius greeted Gerson with a little less enthusiasm than Ferris, keeping an amiable, yet professional demeanor, “It’s been too long. You didn’t visit the Boroughs at all last year. I was beginning to wonder if you had quit the Guard.”

“Not anytime soon, no. Keep in mind that I’ll be in my prime a lot longer than you will,” Gerson chuffed, “Things have been busy in the capitol.”

“I see,” the guildmaster eyed the door of the carriage carefully, “Would it have anything to do with why you’ve come to us this late hour? You and your company are always welcome, of course. We only wished we’d received word of your arrival sooner.”

Why are you here in the middle of the night and what do you want? It was almost scary how eloquently he could cut to business.

Gerson was one thing, but the other soldiers had a tense aura about them. Perhaps they considered the Boroughs as enemy territory. A poor choice of words could unwittingly start a fight between their two groups right on the spot.

The carriage door opened before anything else was said. Ferris didn’t know what to make of the monster that stepped out. Like the others, he wore a heavy cloak, which covered everything except for a pair of sharp horns that curved out of his skull. He was tall—bigger than Gerson or Kobalt—with a stocky, powerful build that no disguise would hide. One of his escorts tried to urge him to stay put, but he raised a hand to stop the knight before he could even speak.

“I’m sorry to show up unannounced like this,” said a lighthearted, masculine voice as the stranger drew back his hood, “Old habits don’t go away easily.”

The instant she saw his face, Ferris knew immediately that he was a Boss Monster. He looked almost exactly like the one depicted in the foyer’s tapestry: An anthropomorphic goat dressed in noble trappings. While most of his fur was white, he had a blonde mane and facial hair. His brown eyes had a warm undertone to them and his gaze betrayed an innocence she didn’t expect to see. Although he couldn’t have been much older than Iva or Percy—at least, she thought not—there was something about him that seemed remarkably untouched by the corruption of the world.

There were only a handful of people who could make an Arnaud mage bow their head as Tobius did now. “Welcome, King Asgore,” he greeted, “It’s a true honor to see you again.”

The young woman barely choked back a sudden case of nerves. She hadn’t dreaded meeting anyone like this since the Fanyas summoned her and Madame Valda. No matter what anyone told her about the King of Monsters—how gentle and humble a person he was—he was still a royal. He was one of the highest authorities in the land and he knew her secret. As she mimicked the guildmaster’s welcome, she maintained an impassive expression that didn’t match her racing thoughts.

“You already know Castellar, I assume,” Tobius introduced them, “This is Ferris, Valda’s former apprentice. So far, these two have served the guild well as the Head of the Blue Mages and Master Seer. I can only hope they impress you just as much.”

“Of course I know Castellar! Except he’s grown a lot since I last saw him.”

Without warning, the Boss Monster crossed over to the skeleton and gave him a hearty pat on the back, an act that nearly sent the latter tumbling forward. He treated him as if he would an old friend, which her guildmate didn’t seem to know how to handle.

Ferris wasn’t any better off. She was so unsure that she felt like a coiling serpent, ready to move at a moment’s notice, as the king leveled his gaze her way next.

“Howdy!” he said, his diction throwing her further off-balance, “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Likewise… Your Majesty,” she found herself replying in a soft voice.

Asgore beamed at her gentle answer, almost like a young child glad to meet a new playmate. She was at a total loss. During the entire stretch of her training, she’d been prepared to handle all of the doublespeak, and hidden ambitions, and complicated dealings of the Two Kingdom’s nobility. Yet here was someone who, try as she might, she didn’t find a trace of deceit in. What she saw appeared to be what she got: A friendly, boyish king with no concept of status or desire to use anyone.

Could Gwen and Avalbanshee have been telling the truth when they described Asgore to her? Or did their words rely too much on memories of a period before he took the crown?

Now that the long silence between him and the Boroughs was broken at last, maybe he would be worse than Prince Fanya…

“I have someone I want you to meet too.”

As the king turned back to the carriage, his smile shifted into one of loving affection. Ferris didn’t have to guess what kind of relationship he had with the unknown figure that remained inside. Complete devotion seemed to radiate from his very being as he held out his hand.

“Come on, Tori.”

Camlet, I think I’ve found your inspiration…

However, despite her mute jab, the instant the other person joined Asgore’s side, Ferris’ stoic mask cracked. It was another tall Boss Monster, a somewhat plump young woman with smaller horns and round eyes. She carried herself far more regally than the king did, maintaining a calm, pleasant grin that Ferris thought was almost angelic.

And how could she call this noble lady anything else? She’d never forgotten it: It was that very smile that had encouraged her to stay strong when she and Ciara were at their lowest—when her hometown, Mollendale, had been attacked and the slightest show of grace was hard to come by.

Chapter 23

For a time, it felt like Ferris couldn’t do anything. It all felt so impossible—how, in a single day, they’d lost everything. Mollendale was in ruins. Their home, as far away as it was from the rest of town, was little more than cinders. There was no telling who, if any of her friends, survived the fires. She and Ciara hadn’t been able to tell their own parents’ remains from the countless charred bodies that were hauled away for burial.

Since Ferris hadn’t watched them die herself, she’d almost gone into denial. She almost dared to hope that, like some the other children waiting in the improvised shelter, maybe their parents were just missing. They weren’t strong and only knew a little magic, but maybe they’d been able to get away after safeguarding her and Ciara’s own escape. However, her sister’s empty stare by day and tormented wails by night quickly grounded her.

Maybe if she hadn’t gone for a walk, maybe if she hadn’t let her little sister come with her… Maybe if just one of them had stayed home, their parents wouldn’t have raced headfirst into danger to find them. Maybe she should’ve tried to fight by their side, or had their mom run away with Ciara instead.

There must’ve been something she could’ve done differently.   

They had other family, if any of them were still alive. Their dad never talked much about his own parents, but Ferris always had a guess as to why she’d never met them. There was an ugly brand mark on one of his forearms, and he’d always get tense whenever the local lord’s mages—bearing the same scar—paid them a visit. On their mom’s side, they had grandparents and an aunt who lived nearby.

So far, no one had come to collect them. The two sisters spent most of their time waiting huddled against a wall as other kids were either taken away by their own relatives or delivered the bad news.

There was a murmur of commotion just outside of the shelter. Carrying her half-asleep sister on her hip, Ferris shambled over to see what was going on. Her legs ached from sitting for so long and her body protested in exhaustion. Only a vague hope in this odd disturbance drove her forward.

“Is everything ok?” she asked a scruffy-looking boy who may have been eight years-old. For a moment, her mind drifted to the worst-case scenario: That the Conflagration had come back to pick them off while the town was still recovering.

The boy shuffled uneasily in-place. “A-a bunch of people just showed up…” he mumbled, “There’s a lot of wagons. They’re setting up tents a-and said they’re going to pass out food, but…”

The group turned their eyes in-unison toward the bustle of activity several meters away. Like he'd said, tent poles were being raised one by one on a singed patch of earth where a row of homes used to stand. There were wagons stacked with fresh lumber and other supplies, and armored soldiers moved crates or spoke with Mollendale's woodwards.  

Ferris had heard whispers that aid might come from the towns to the South, but she didn't know which ones. Those same voices reasoned that their neighbors had also been attacked. Now that support had arrived though, it brought with it a cloud of apprehension—specifically regarding who had come in with the relief efforts.

“More monsters…” an older girl snarled.

She wasn't the only one. Most all of the townsfolk gathered nearby gave the newcomers wary looks. Given the Conflagration's ethos, how little anyone had done to stop them from reaching their current level of influence, and how fresh the wounds still were, there was only so much gratitude the people of Mollendale could dredge up. 

"D-don't talk so loud. You're gonna make them mad!" 

"Who cares!"

As the other children began to argue with each other, Ferris debated whether or not to sneak over to the tents. The townsfolk were still taking stock of what little they had left. The only thing they'd eaten at the shelter was a daily ration of gruel. To be truthful, Ferris didn't want to eat, but she knew they needed to. In the very least, she hoped maybe finding something tastier would get Ciara to nibble on more than just a few bites at a time. If they really were giving out food...

She marched across the road. To her relief, no one paid much attention to her as she slipped by. Aside from the day of the attack, the girl had never seen so many monsters at once before: Humanoids and beastfolk, beings made of glass and slime and stone; some half her size and others that towered over her. Maybe they didn't care to pay attention because she and Ciara were just two odd faces out of a hundred, or maybe they didn't care because they knew she couldn't do anything even if she wanted to challenge them.

The girl caught of whiff of something cooking soon enough. She followed her nose all the way to the opposite side of the tents, where a stall had been hastily fashioned from the side of a partially destroyed warehouse. 

There were a few volunteers, but not many people would get close despite the temptation. As if the townsfolk didn't have enough reservations, the pair of soldiers watching from either end of the stall didn't exactly encourage anyone to come forward either...     

The girl flinched at the sound of footsteps behind her. A couple other kids had tagged along, but were noticeably keeping their distance. It was clear that they wanted to see what would happen to her first before daring to step up themselves.

Ciara fully awoke around that same moment. Realizing that they were no longer in the shelter and instead surrounded by monsters on all sides, she began to panic. She buried her face in her sister’s shirt, lacing her fingers into the fabric, and wailed.

Ferris dragged her behind the cover of one of the tents as she tried to get her to calm down, gently shushing her. It broke her heart to see her once brave sister reduced to this, but it terrified her more to think of how others might react to her cries. “It’s ok. You’re ok!”

However, hearing this, Ciara went from clinging onto her to trying to fight her in order to break free from her arms. Ferris grimaced, on the verge of tears herself. She couldn’t do this! She wished their mom was here. She’d know what to do—but it was just the two of them now!

“Please, Ciara! Stop!” She responded to the nails clawing at her skin by holding on even tighter. She wrapped her legs around her little sister’s waist and pinned her closer to her chest, attempting to soothe her with rocking motions. “Just stop…!”

Slowly, her breathing began to steady. Ferris still wouldn’t ease her hold, worried that Ciara might take off before she could explain.

“Excuse me…”

Both of the girls flinched at the unknown voice that called to them. Ferris looked over her shoulder to find a large goat woman peering down at them from about two meters away. Despite her size, she wasn’t a scary monster. She had a slightly plump figure, which was further exaggerated by her soft, thick coat of pure white fur. Unlike the soldiers, she wore flowing garments with the emblem of the Monster Kingdom embroidered into them. She had a young face and her eyes were a rich, warm color, like chestnuts or river stones glistening on a summer’s day.

They froze.

The goat woman knelt down to the sisters’ level. Only then was their attention drawn to the basket in her hands. It was filled to the brim with rolls that they’d never seen before. Aside from their golden-brown tops, the bread was such a light color that it looked as though it hadn’t been baked. Nevertheless, steam billowed from the rolls plush, swirling shapes.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, plucking two of the rolls in one hand and offering it out to them.

Neither of them could answer. At first, all Ferris could do was stare at the large, furry hand that easily dwarfed her own. The woman waited patiently for them to make up their minds, keeping perfectly still as the elder sister took both of the rolls and passed one to Ciara. They fidgeted with the bread a moment longer before they each tried a piece.

It was surprisingly warm and fluffy, with a sweet taste more like a confection. The tops of the rolls were on the crispier side, but it balanced out with the somewhat gooey center. Before either of the girls knew it, they had finished them off in just a few bites.

“My Lady!” An equally massive guardsman with a lion’s tail hanging out from his armor stormed over, “Please don’t wonder off like that! You know things are tense.”

Whether she was annoyed by the light scolding or the fact that the two sisters shrank in front of the newcomer, setting back her efforts, the goat woman pursed her lips. “Charlamane, if you don’t want me to act on my own, then help me. There’s a lot of mouths to feed.”

Ferris looked in the direction she pointed in. The other children had creeped so far out of their hiding places that they were practically standing in the open. A handful of adults were watching the scene as well.

The goat woman shooed her knight over to the stall, pushing at his back. She continued passing out rolls while the feline recruited another soldier with multiple pairs of arms to bring over trenchers filled with sliced sausages and peculiar-looking greens. It might’ve been mostly bread, but it was nevertheless the heartiest meal any of them had seen in a while.

Although Ferris managed to reign back her tears, she ended up hiccupping instead. It was almost strange to feel hunger again after feeling nothing for so long, going through the motions. She alternated between choking down a hiccup with one bite and feeding Ciara until her sister felt like doing it herself.

A large palm patted her head, nearly tipping her over the edge for a third time. “I know it may not look like it now, but things will get better again. You’ll see. Just have hope, child.”

---

Ferris never had gotten a name for whoever had led those relief efforts. Until now. The young seer could hardly believe this twist of fate, but she wasn’t at all displeased with it.

At the guildmaster’s suggestion, they went into the dining hall for some light refreshments. Even the latest of stragglers had finished supper over an hour earlier, so they had the entire chamber to themselves. They brewed a pot of golden flower tea, per His Majesty’s request.

King Asgore explained that, since he and Lady Toriel planned on getting married in the spring and the Meeting of Olives would keep them busy for most of the summer, they decided to tour their kingdom early. They wanted to inspect each town without causing too much of a stir and the Boroughs was a convenient stop.

“Fine, but you know we can’t leave this off-record,” said Tobius.

The young king nodded, “I know. I just ask that you wait until after we’ve left. We’ll only be here for a day or so, just for a quick inspection.”

“Naturally. I should warn you though that a few newborns arrived this winter. If anyone recognizes you, there’s bound to be a line of folks asking for your blessing.”

Noticing her bewilderment, Gerson leaned over to mutter in Ferris’ ear. Monsters had all sorts of naming traditions depending on their species. Apparently, it wasn’t uncommon for some parents to travel all the way to the Monster capitol to have the king name their babies, or to give them a second name. It was considered good luck.

Given the names of many of the monsters she knew, Ferris felt like Gerson had answered a question she hadn’t even asked…

“But to think you two are getting married so soon—” Tobius raised his cup, “Well, I guess it was always expected. Are you sure you don’t want something stronger to celebrate? I have some nice wine in my personal stock.”

King Asgore looked like he was about to refuse, but Lady Toriel brightened up at the offer. “That sounds lovely! I wouldn’t mind a glass.”

"But, Tori—”

“It’s just one glass,” she echoed, “Just to shake off the cold a little.”

Looping an arm around his, Lady Torial batted her lashes at her paramour in a flirtatious, pleading manner. It only took a few seconds for him to break. Tobius sent Castellar away to fetch a bottle from his room.

Ferris was a little jealous that he had a few minutes to escape the scene. She didn’t usually mind seeing public shows of affection—she was practically immune to it from watching Iva chase after Percy for years—but the two Boss Monsters were almost sickeningly sweet toward each other. They stayed glued at the hip and hardly more than a few seconds passed between affectionate glances. There was something in Gerson’s eyes that almost looked dead inside from having to watch their display for so long over the course of their travels.

As for Ferris herself, she supposed she didn’t have a right to criticize. She was caught between the professional courtesy she’d been taught to show the royals and her own desire to burst into childish fanfare.

Back in Mollendale, nothing had gotten better in the way Lady Toriel probably thought it would. Her hometown’s slow recovery had many of its people guessing that the local lord probably took the bulk of donations given during the relief efforts for himself. The other, only family she and Ciara were able to find had abused them. Now, if there were any memories to lure them back to Mollendale, they were tainted.    

It didn’t mean that the small hope she’d given them back then didn’t matter. At the time, it was all they had. A part of Ferris wanted to express how much that meant to her, but she didn’t know if she could.

For one thing, it meant revealing how much she favored—and owed—the queen-to-be. That could cause trouble for the guild. For another, maybe it was better not to bring it up in the first place. The noble had no reason to remember the face of one of the many dirty, random children she’d offered a bit of compassion to several years ago.

She hesitated to say anything, keeping quiet even after Castellar returned and they began enjoying a fresh round of drinks. For the most part, the conversation stayed casual.

“Actually Tobius, why don’t you come to our wedding?” Asgore requested with a small smile. He nodded to the skeleton, “I was already planning to give an invitation to Castellar, but I guess he’ll come with his family—isn’t that right, Castellar?”

There was a pause as he took a sip from his cup. He answered softly, “That’s right.”

Ferris hid her mouth behind her own drink. The normally sweet taste of the wine seemed bitter on her lips.

“There you have it!” Toriel beamed in approval, “If you don’t come, we won’t have anyone there representing the Boroughs. Just think of it as official business.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. After all, a royal wedding was far from a typical gathering: It was a political move as much as it was a promise of love. So long as there were also guests from the Human Kingdom, it wouldn’t seem odd for one of their mages to be there too. Maybe it was a good way to ensure the hatchet between the Boroughs and the Monster Kingdom stayed buried.

The guildmaster considered the invitation, then raised his forefinger in a thoughtful motion. “Alright, but… I’ll be down at least two Head Mages during then. I can’t leave the Boroughs easily. If you’re fine with it, let me send someone else in my place.”

“Anyone we know?”

As Tobius waved his hand over at Ferris, it was a miracle that she didn’t spit out her drink.     

Chapter 24

Ferris could hardly believe Tobius' suggestion. Why her, when there were so many others who could make the trip? Why not Avalbanshee or Monty? She may have taken up Madame Valda's position, but she didn't have her record. There were other guild leaders and more accomplished mages, ones more familiar with travelling through the Monster Kingdom, who could go instead. And she didn't buy for one second that he was that concerned with personally leaving the Boroughs for however long the celebrations lasted.  

The only reason she could come up with was the drama directly involving her. If she went, it would prove one of two things: Either that the guild trusted the Monster Kingdom enough to let her journey all the way to its capitol, proving without a doubt that all transgressions were forgiven, or that the guild wasn't afraid to send her because they knew no one could touch her. Whatever the case, Ferris didn't appreciate Tobius volunteering her to go.  

She tried to voice her rejection as delicately as possible, "I can think of others who deserve the honor, guildmaster. Your Majesty.  Promotion or no, I'm barely out of my apprenticeship." 

“I agree." Help came where she least expected it. Castellar leaned forward in seat, adding, "Ferris doesn't know the Monster Capitol either. You can't expect to send her there, least of all without some sort of chaperone—I certainly won't be able to watch her." 

However, counter to their protests, King Asgore was smiling, "I don't see how either of those are problems. If Tobius recommends you, then I trust him.  And I've heard a bit about you too! Don't be modest."

Right. What he'd heard about her and where, she didn't know, but in his eyes, this probably couldn't be a better outcome. 

For a while, Ferris had never been sure when the guildmaster told her that the King of Monsters had no interest in her abilities, that the attempt to steal her away was solely the plot of Fraktur and his allies. There had never been any evidence to the contrary and Valda assured her of the very same. The soft-hearted boy-king... Yes, she could see that now: Someone whose only ambitions thus far seemed to be restoring old connections and doting on his soon-to-be-wife. 

Someone had to be the voice of reason though.  Attending the Meeting of Olives would be daunting enough. There, she and Castellar would mostly be responsible for keeping the peace between the Two Kingdom’s representatives. Going to a royal wedding was too much too soon, especially for her.

A scaley hand fell on her shoulder before she could offer another excuse. Gerson looked at her with a calm grin, then turned to the others. “We could send a few guards to meet you at the border.”

Gerson, why?! That sounded worse!   

“No, I don’t think that will be necessarily,” Tobius shook his head, “They’ll be plenty of people travelling to and from the capitol then. I’m sure she could tag along with some party safely.”

Lady Toriel added her own piece, “We could still provide some escort once you arrive. It is a large city, and we wouldn’t want anyone to trouble you. We’ll send an official invitation as soon as possible.”

Just like that, the decision was made without Ferris’ consent. The only way she could back out at that point was by outright refusing to go—which she certainly would not do, if not out of polite obligation, then from the pressure of the smiles that surrounded her.

That, and she found it hard to argue against the future queen in-particular. It wasn’t simply due to their past meeting. The way she worded her offer made it seem like she knew more than she let on. Could Asgore have told her about what happened those five years ago? Possibly. There was a pointed gleam in Toriel’s gaze that made Ferris think she was trying to reassure her that Fraktur wouldn’t cause trouble. As long as she was their official guest, she would be safe.

The conversation that followed was generally lighthearted after that. King Asgore and Lady Toriel asked some broad questions on how the Boroughs was fairing and if its human-monster relations remained positive. They talked about how old friends were doing and shared memories of their youth. The only parts of the discussion that Ferris could really contribute to was anything involving Madame Valda, but she didn’t mind listening to the others talk.

Things only started to spiral after they’d indulged in too much of the wine.

To their credit, as rowdy as her guildmates could be, Ferris knew very few of them that made for poor drinking buddies. Most of them could either hold their liquor well or knew their limit. The young seer was proud to think that she could easily knock back a few rounds herself.

She did not expect someone as poised as Lady Toriel to sneak multiple glasses until she fell into a giggling fit. Gerson, King Asgore, and the guildmaster made a joint effort to get her cup away from her. When they managed that, she tried snatching Gerson’s bowl-shaped helmet to use it for a glass instead.

She then whispered some things into the king’s ear a bit too loudly—words that were never meant to leave the privacy of lovers, let alone be said at a crowded table.

They all agreed to put away what little of wine remained after that. Tobius and Castellar stayed with King Asgore so that they could wrap up their talk, while Gerson and Ferris carried Lady Toriel to one of the guest rooms that had been prepared upon their arrival. Because of their difference in size, Gerson did most of the heavy-lifting. It was up to Ferris to see that the future queen was comfortably tucked into bed.

It was almost comical to see her pout like a child about going to sleep. It made Ferris realize that, despite how regal Lady Toriel behaved at any other time, she too was just a young woman: Older than her, but—whatever the pace Boss Monsters aged at—not by too much. She must’ve only reached womanhood during the peak of the Conflagration’s campaign of terror.

There were plenty of doubts Ferris had about Asgore and how he might lead the Monster Kingdom, but if someone like this was by his side…

It was a good thing Lady Toriel fell asleep not long after Ferris helped her get under the sheets. She wouldn’t have been able to voice her true thoughts aloud otherwise.

“Thank you, Your Ladyship,” she said under her breath, “If things were different, in another life, I might have sworn my magic to you.”

Ferris also turned in not long after that. As expected, Ciara was already in a sound slumber when she entered their quarters. The elder sister shrugged off her robes, draped them over the chair, and carefully climbed into bed.

She briefly wondered if it would even be possible for the two Boss Monsters to hide their identities as they inspected the Boroughs. With their height and horns, they definitely stood out. Gerson was going to attract a lot of eyes on his own because so many of the townsfolk knew him. Nevertheless, the king assured Tobius that his group would be leaving by tomorrow in the early afternoon.

Maybe she could point out Lady Toriel to Ciara before then.

BANG-BANG-BANG!

It was completely dark outside. Not more than an hour or two could’ve passed. The young seer felt like she had barely drifted off when a loud, constant wrapping at the door jolted her awake. Urgent as it sounded, she rose with a bewildered grunt and answer the harsh knocking straight away.

No sooner had she opened the door, a steely grip yanked her out of the room and pinned her spine against the nearby wall. There was a faint click as the door closed shut once again, preventing her from ducking back inside. Gloved fingers dug into her arms and a pair of fierce eyes glowered down at her.

“What did you do?”  

Castellar kept his voice low, but vehement. Ferris only blinked at him, trying to catch up with the situation. It didn’t look as though he’d retired at all for the night. An uncommon murmur of activity for the hour echoed throughout the guild compound. She glanced sideways, over to the stairwell: One of the guards that arrived with the king was talking to Crococus, the old reptile furrowing his brows.

When she didn’t immediately respond, the skeleton pressed her again, bringing her focus back to him, “You were the last person with Lady Toriel. Where is she?”

Again, Ferris was baffled. It took a few more seconds to put together why he was interrogating her like this: Toriel was missing.

Several things raced through her head at once. What in the world had happened? Was she really gone and where could she possibly had run to in the middle of the night without anyone noticing?

Why was he looking at her with such an accusatory gaze? It reminded Ferris of when they were back in the caves under Mt. Ebott, or even back when they had barely known each other for more than a few days. That ugly, awful stare that regarded her like a walking calamity.

The pure outrage bubbling beneath her skin helped her find her voice. She pushed Castellar off of her and snarled, “How should I know? I helped her into bed and went straight to sleep myself!”

“Then where is she?!”

“I just told you I don’t know—I didn’t do anything!”

“You were casting odd glances at Her Ladyship all night.” He closed the gap between them once more, not budging. “I know there’s something you’re not telling me. Ferris, if anything happened, you better explain now before things get out of hand—”

The wooden boards above their heads groaned, cutting him off. All chatter on the floor went silent. They looked up, waiting for a second disturbance…

“Tori!”

After a long delay, King Asgore’s panicked shout broke the quiet. It came from outside. Ferris and Castellar rushed to the window, the young woman swinging open the glass panel and leaning her body against the frame to get a better look.

Asgore, Gerson, Dom, and the guildmaster all stood in front of the guild with varying expressions caught between terror and amusement as they stared back up in their direction. Ferris leaned out even further, twisting her body to check the rooftop. Someone was up there.

“Where did she get another bottle…?”

“Please don’t move—don’t do anything! You’re going to fine, ok?!”

“Don’ be sush a spoilsport, sweetie,” came the slurred reply, “Come on! The view up here is soooo beauuu~iful!”

“Tori, quit drinking that! Tobius, can you use your magic to get her down?!”

Ignoring him, they heard Lady Toriel break out into some kind of tavern song next:

“There ne’er was a brew so thick,
So dark and sweet in taste,
Fill yer mug right t’ the brim
And leave nothin’ t’ waste!
No fancy lager, no honeyed mead,
Could ever quite compare,
Drin’ your fill an’ then more still
We’ve plen’y here t’ share!

It was hard to say if it was a real song or if Toriel was making up lines. She kept stopping mid-verse, as if she couldn’t quite remember, only to pick up with the same energy she left off at. Oddly enough, her drunken night walk did nothing to diminish the respect Ferris felt toward her: If anything, she was kind of impressed.

All of that, however, was overshadowed by the disgust she felt toward the skeleton beside her. The moment’s fright ended, he’d calmed down considerably. He watched the scene for a bit longer before his eyes drifted over to Ferris only to flinch away when they met hers. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him make this face before: Shame.

The corner of her mouth curled bitterly. Too late.

She understood how little Castellar thought of her. Her lack of tact, her tendency to do what she pleased at any given moment, her sometimes morally questionable actions… He never failed to criticize her and she never failed to match his admonishments. But to go this far, as if she might’ve harmed an innocent person—a person she admired no less—!

She walked back toward her room.

“I’m sorry.”

The barely uttered words made her pause. That was another first, not that she really wanted to hear it.

Taking a breath, she looked back. “You know, a stupid part of me actually keeps wanting to trust you,” her own words tumbled out before she could stop them, “and then you do something like this.”

There was no excuse anyone could make for him right then. His father wasn’t there to force him into any kind of action. There was no specter manipulating him. This is what he honestly thought of her: He was always going to assume the worst of her.

Thank God the hallway had cleared as people returned to their rooms or ran downstairs to keep watching the show outside. Ferris couldn’t keep her voice very low. She blamed it on how much she drank earlier.

“You keep saying you want to patch things over, at least for work, but let’s be honest: We’re never going to trust each other,” she spat, “I can’t see you as anything other than a backstabbing bastard, and you won’t see me as anything other than some freak of nature that needs to be kept in check!”    

Castellar tensed and his painted lips twisted in a grim, hard-to-read expression, but he said nothing. He took everything she had to say without any sort of comeback. Ferris swallowed her rage. It was pointless to have this conversation.

“You want to make up? If we’re really ‘friends,’ you’ll stay away from me when you can help it.”   

Chapter 25

Despite the chaotic night and how many eyes were ultimately drawn to the two Boss Monsters as a result, King Asgore’s and Lady Toriel’s visit ended relatively peacefully. Their group got a late start the following morning, deciding not to stray far from the guild compound. As it was, many of the guild’s members—particularly those who only joined within the last five years—kept them busy. Plenty of people were curious about the royal couple. 

Although Ferris couldn’t find it in her to be surprised, it was strange to watch the pair interact with everyone. While Gerson, his men, and the guild’s leaders did what they could to control the crowd, Asgore and Toriel laughed away their efforts overall. They spoke to the likes of Hystrangea, Crococus, and Monty as though they were old friends, and welcomed any children brave enough to approach them. From a booming laugh to an awkward smile, they never tried hiding their emotions. If she herself had met them in any other circumstance, Ferris wouldn’t have thought of them any differently than any other person she’d meet on the town square. 

From what she heard, the king’s parents never acted this way. She continued to wonder what possessed them to be so open. Was it the ignorance of youth, inexperience in their stations, or simply knowing no fear due to their own, incredible power? 

Maybe it was a little bit of everything—not that she would complain. I only pray it doesn’t come to one day ruin them. 

She and the other seers gave the group the same warning they’d given other travelers since the Wildfire Festival: To avoid the main roads leading to Elmspyre. They took it gratefully and, with the promise to hear from them soon, left on good terms.

However, a new problem would arrive not long after their departure. Duty kept Ferris and Castellar gravitating around each other no matter how much she wanted otherwise. Two days following the impromptu visit, the guildmaster summoned the both of them into his office. He had a grim look on his face, not explaining much as he passed them a sheet of paper. There was some kind of song written on it:

‘Mage of verdant sight,
Have you seen my dearest child?
Does he walk among you?
Did you spirit him away?
Hear this mother’s cry,
Heal the wounds within my heart
With promise of his safe return,
I fear for his delay. 

‘I cannot bring such comfort.
There’s no peace I can offer.
There’s many of us here,
In this place dark and drear.
Pray he did not follow
To join us beneath the hollow,
Our spirits left to stir,
Our bones hidden under ley. 

‘Mage of crimson sight,
Have you seen my dearest child?
Can’t you peer beyond the veil?
Do tell me where he’s gone.
What clue could you find?
What truth plays b’fore your eyes?
Have the Fates taken their claim?
Might you bring back my son? 

‘There’s nothing I can see now,
My gift was robbed from me, how
Might I know of his fate?
Already, it’s too late
For me and all who followed,
Buried beneath the hollow,
Where only spiders lurk
And we shall never see the dawn. 

‘Mage of golden sight,
Have you seen my dearest child?
In my grief, I watch the streets
That he once playfully roamed.
Skulking in the night,
Beneath a cowl, a villain hides.
He is only just a boy,
I beg you, bring him home.  

‘Poor mother cloaked in sable,
I fear that I’m unable
To remedy your grief
Or grant just reckoning,
For I and all who followed,
Buried beneath the hollow,
Were left to fade away,
A sin to never be atoned.’

Ferris was already bristling after getting halfway through the piece, the parchment crumpling between her fingertips. It was a song detailing what had occurred in Hunters Hollow. But how could something like this have been written—and how far had it spread? Certain lines seemed to twist what happened and others seemed too specific.

It all seemed intentional… The ordinary listener wouldn’t think much of the song as anything other than a scary story at first; however, it wouldn’t take long for people to start asking questions and try dissecting its lyrics. It would still plant a seed in people’s minds that the deaths of innocent lives were covered up. 

She thought the same as she did when she burned the bodies: There wasn't much else they could’ve done other than keep the full truth of what happened hidden. The tension between humans and monsters had existed for as long as anyone could remember. Conflicts were inevitable, but too much had happened too recently in anyone's memory. It would be easy for anyone to use Lord Weaver's crimes as an excuse to further widen that rift, and while some people wouldn't care about the fate of a bunch of inexperienced mages, the sheer brutality with which they were killed would catch public attention. Not even other nobles involved in trafficking would be able to hold their tongues. 

Castellar’s brows furrowed deeply, the line of his mouth twisted into a fierce scowl. He bowed at Tobius, “This is our failure, guildmaster. We should’ve done more to ensure this stayed secret.” 

Ferris mimicked the gesture a beat after him, too swept up in her own thoughts. The taste of blood spilled across her tongue as she bit the inside of her lip. 

Tobius, meanwhile, showed remarkable calm over the whole situation. He took the paper back from them with a soft exhale, “I don’t blame either of you. It was arrogant of us to think we could hide something of this scale to begin with. Fetch one of the minstrels for me.” 

Ferris gave the skeleton a quizzical look as he took off to do as told. She wasn’t quite sure how anyone from that bunch was going to be of much help. The guildmaster stared back at her in the long silence that followed. She looked anywhere else around the room to avoid his intense gaze. 

“You’re thinking of going back in time to solve this, aren’t you?” 

She didn’t answer. It was something she considered. Now that she knew it was possible to go back further than her last save—and without ending herself no less—she didn’t dread using her ability as much. Still, she wouldn’t take her teacher’s final warning lightly. That, and she had no experience casting such an advanced spell: She’d only continued to meditate over it. 

“Don’t,” said Tobius, his stern gaze never leaving her, “We don't even know how this song spread, so what could you do? You can’t hope to use your power for every problem. I’m sure Valda told you as much.” 

The young seer winced, then gave him a single nod. In truth, she was actually relieved to have been given the order. 

A few minutes later, Castellar returned with two of the guild’s minstrels: Fiddly and Kanes. Fiddly was a pink feline with a short, stout body and who, matching her name, played the fiddle. Kanes was a towering dark green gorgon, only his ‘hair’ ended in rattling tails rather than the heads of snakes. They were the other two members of Blaze’s team and were often far rowdier than the unfortunate fire monster that had to keep them in line. Now though, brought in front of the guildmaster, the two minded themselves.

Tobius kept his explanation brief as he handed them the lyrics next. It wasn't long before the pair grimaced down at the piece in their hands, perhaps even quicker to pick up on the foul intensions behind it. 

“Could one of Arnaud’s rivals be involved in this?” Castellar suggested, "Since we were part of the investigation, someone could be trying to slander us by suggesting we let a murderer go free." 

Kanes read the piece over again before responding, “I don’t think this was really written with mages in mind.” He spread the paper across the desk, then pointed at one of the topmost lines. “This part here: ‘Did you spirit him away?’ It’s an accusation.” 

Fiddly crossed her arms in thought, “Right. You can pass it off as the cry of a grieving parent, but the fact that a line like this is there at all…” 

The feline avoided bringing it up directly, but everyone in the room understood what she meant. The line referred to the practice of trafficking mages, specifically by other mages. Considering how often that was a best-case scenario, and how many mages could be both the victims and perpetrators of that cycle, it wasn’t a matter taken lightly. It was unlikely that a mage would’ve added a line like that.  

“If you ask me, the whole thing is just plain disturbing…” Fiddly continued in a quiet mumble, her fur almost standing on end, “Do we have any idea who came up with this?”

“We’re looking into it,” Tobius dismissed, not going into detail, “It's clear that someone wants to stir trouble, but from the looks of things, there’s no clear source. The plan is to use that bit of confusion to our advantage. I want your troupe to come up with a similar piece. I don’t care how you change things, just get people singing it. If we get more people favor your version—better yet, if they start to regard it as the right one—we might be able to limit the damages.”

Although the number of people involved in bringing down Lord Weaver were few, there really was no good guess for who would want a piece like this spread around. Meadow Weaver wouldn't have done it unless she suddenly started feeling self-destructive. The victims' families might have wanted the news to travel in some vain reach for further justice, but they wouldn't have had knowledge to put certain clues into the song. It was possible that someone from the investigation, someone with more conscience than common sense, had done it, but no one specifically came to the young seer's mind. And while they chased after an unknown somebody, more people would carry the song across Ebott. The guildmaster was right: Finding out who wrote it was less important than putting a stop to it.

Nevertheless, after Fiddly and Kanes left, the skeleton looked at Tobius doubtfully, “Will that really work?”  

“I certainly hope it will,” he said, casting a glance toward his napping familiar, “The arts have a strange way of moving people, particularly music. In any case, it's our only way to fight back for the time being.”  

"And what do we do?" 

Tobius rested his chin against his hands, "Nothing. I have a separate mission for you both. I'm concerned that there's still talk of attacks on the road to Elmspyre. See what you can find out." 

Normally, this wasn't something the guild would bother with. It was a job for sentries and it was out of their territory. Ferris could only assume that the attacks had escalated to the point where it was starting to affect trade, or maybe their neighbors couldn't come up with a resolution their own.

To think that the guildmaster was sending them off on another mission together though... but neither of the young mages dared to refuse it. Chances were, he already knew that they'd recently fought. He'd only tell them to set their pettiness aside and get to work. Taking down a cluster of thieves wouldn't be difficult. With any luck, they could quickly finish this chore and return without so much as a word passed between them.

Chapter 26

As if teaming up for the job wasn’t uncomfortable enough, they left with one more person added to their team. Against Ferris’ reservations, Ciara decided to tag along. 

From the moment Ciara found out about the new mission the guildmaster had given them, she’d insisted on going. She finished whatever tasks her teachers assigned her. She found someone who would let her borrow a horse and hastily practiced riding. She pestered Tobius directly when talking her out of going didn’t work and Ferris tried leaving the decision to him. 

He probably allowed it for two reasons: Ciara was a fine student and, despite her age, others who’d only just entered their apprenticeships were brought along for similar assignments. If she was going to follow the same path of a mage, some true combat experience was necessary. Dealing with the common thug wasn’t a bad way for her to gain said experience, even if Ferris didn’t really like it. The only reason she allowed Ciara to come with them was that she preferred being able to watch over her little sister’s first real fight than not.        

“Do you have any attacks prepared?” she’d asked her.

Ciara showed her a few of the ones she’d been practicing: Typical bullet patterns; small, explosive vials with a poisoning effect; a dagger not unlike her own magical weapon. It was more than Ferris expected, actually. Still, Ferris told her not to jump in too quick, insisting that she take more of a supporting role. 

In the very least, it was nice to share some more time with her—or at least it would’ve been if they had any other travelling companion. Riding with Castellar was tense at best. It brought back memories of their first journey together. The two sisters ignored him when they could, chatting softly with each other.

What made things even more awkward was that Ciara knew about the fight they had the night King Asgore and Lady Toriel visited. 

After Ferris shut herself away in their quarters, her anger continued to threaten to spill over. She was indignant, both from the skeleton’s accusation and how much she allowed it to get to her. After all, that was who he always was—who they were—and nothing was going to change it.  She’d stood with her back to the door for the longest time, trying to reign her emotions in. It was then that she noticed Ciara peeking over the sheets, wide awake. Her little sister didn’t say much, but Ferris knew that she’d heard everything. 

Maybe that was the real reason why she insisted on going with them. If their roles were reversed, Ferris certainly wouldn’t have wanted to leave her alone with the skeleton either. Thankfully though, Ciara never brought the topic up. Any conversation remained either lighthearted or focused on the work at hand.

 It was difficult to pin the attacks to any one spot on their route. There were a handful of villages and sentry posts they needed to visit to collect information. Unsurprisingly, the local marauders were targeting lone or small groups of travelers. The trio spent a few days cooperating with the village leaders to hunt the bandits down, targeting their dens with swift efficiency. 

The trio collected the emblems of merchant guilds and markings on stolen goods to identity some of the victims, but that was the most they could do. Although it sat next to a great stretch of wilderness along the border, Elmspyre was located further into the Monster Kingdom than Hunters Hollow—and the subtly shifting demographics of each village they arrived at reflected that. Since monsters crumbled into dust upon dying, trying to find the victims’ remains would be a fool’s errand. They would just have to keep investigating along the route until something of note turned up.

 At one point, the road they were on led directly to a rock wall. The ruins of an ancient structure and nearby markings hinted that there was some kind of puzzle to it. There were steep, overgrown slopes on either side of the path, so the trio’s only options were to either solve the puzzle, make the arduous climb around it, or try doubling back in hopes of finding an easier trail.

Castellar jumped off his horse to examine the wall. “No one ever bothers to change or remove these old puzzles,” he mumbled, “There’s usually a simple trick to them. Just give me a moment.” 

Neither sister answered him. Ferris unstrapped her waterskin and offered it to Ciara first, who turned it down with a wave toward her own, full container. As Ferris took a long sip, she couldn’t resist sneaking a glance over Castellar’s shoulder. He twisted eroded, stone switches hidden in plain sight. Soon enough a deep rumble emitted from the rock. Fragments of ice shattered as a doorway revealed itself and opened to the path ahead. 

They rode through a short tunnel. The emblem of the Monster Kingdom was painted across one side of it, the mural partially worn away from the strain of many years. Ferris tried to imagine what purpose the structure originally served; if the gateway was a remnant of ancient borders or perhaps a grander relic of history. 

The tunnel shifted into steady incline that deposited them higher above the rocky terrain they currently traveled through. Not a terribly far distance from them to the East, Mr. Ebott stood proud. Ferris marveled at it. She’d never given much thought to the mountain before—to her, it had always been just a bigger hunk of rock in a land full of them—but her brief adventure beneath it had changed that. From the questions she’d never been able to ask the fox familiar to the paranormal experience she and Castellar had endured, too much had gone unresolved. Its caverns stretched on endlessly, and she wondered what other secrets were buried beneath the surface. 

Noticing her distracted gaze, Castellar slowed his steed to amble beside hers. Ferris gave him a sharp, curious look, but he didn’t say anything. Not at first, anyway. He continued at her pace, tilting his head to share the view of the mountain. Her little sister followed more closely behind her in a mute show of support. 

“You have a fondness for nature, don’t you?” his odd question interrupted the steady trod of hooves along the frozen earth.

Ferris didn’t answer him, inwardly recoiling. Was he really trying to strike up a casual conversation? On their best days, it wasn’t like him—and now he intended to act like nothing happened? She sneered. 

After waiting a minute longer, he tried again, “I think I told you once that there were many unique landscapes across Ebott. There is plenty you haven’t seen yet. Towering geodes, shark infested waterways, a cavern mouth that opens so high up and bathed in such a deep fog that it seems that you’ve stepped among the clouds.” 

“Your point?” She kept her eyes pinned on the road. She wouldn’t rise to his bait. 

“There’s one such place, on the way back to the Boroughs. It wouldn’t cost us to stop there before we return.” 

“For such a fusspot, you really enjoy your bad detours, don’t you?” Ferris gave the skeleton a nasty smirk before redirecting her stare back on the road, “Let’s just get this job over with.” 

However, Castellar wouldn’t back down. His tone grew impatient, “Listen now. There’s a lake—”

“I know the one,” she cut him off. There was one that rested in a wide dale a couple of hours away from the Boroughs on horseback. It was a beautiful spot, but not a view she wanted to experience with him. 

“No, it’s a small lake in one of the caves.” Becoming even more irritated, Castellar almost rushed through his words so she couldn’t easily dismiss him again. “Not a lot grows there, but there are crystalline stalagmites that rise from the water, like a half-submerged palace revealed by a parted sea.”

Admittedly, his descriptions had the young woman intrigued. Nevertheless, she refused to show it. She didn’t look his way a second time.

Castellar sighed deeply, “One day… I could take you there.”

She didn’t humor him with a response. Ferris’ hands tightened around her reins. What exactly was he hoping to gain out of this? No matter how much of an act they needed to put on for others, there was no reason for them to feign companionship in private. They were both full-fledged mages now. No matter who or how much anyone forced them to work together, they did not have to like each other.

“I think it might snow,” Ciara abruptly observed.

Ferris glanced at her, then toward the sky. There were some dark, low-hanging clouds in the distance, although it wasn’t enough to draw immediate concern. It might flurry, but not enough before they could find shelter.

Thanks to Ciara’s change in topic, Castellar didn’t say another unnecessary word. 

Later on, they passed a fallen village. While it was nowhere near as old as the gateway puzzle they’d reached earlier, there was nothing left standing in one piece. Once warm chimney hearths were left standing as cold, stone towers above the ruins of their households. Heavy, rotted planks of wood laid half-submerged under the snow. The area looked as though it had been completely abandoned for almost a decade.

What few people did live nearby resided in scattered homesteads tucked away in the wilderness: Loggers, trappers, and foragers—families whose work secluded them from whatever tragedy had struck their community.  They were a cautious bunch, both humans and monsters only giving vague answers to many of the mages' questions before politely shooing the trio off. Clearly, they sensed trouble and wanted no part of it.

Ferris kept an eye out for trouble during the entire stretch of their journey. Despite the persistent rumors, thus far, nothing stood out to her as particularly dangerous. There didn’t seem to be a surplus of bandits and those they did come across were average criminals. Unless the sentries were slacking, she couldn’t pinpoint what might’ve caused the increase in attacks.

It could’ve been any number of factors: Corruption with local authorities, a change in command, or the bandits feeling a little more emboldened. Thus far, interrogations had gone nowhere. Again, most of the crooks they caught had been cowards aiming for easy marks. If anything, the most dangerous thing they’d stumbled across so far was the rugged terrain.

“There.”

Ferris spotted wheel tracks. They looked about a day or two old, veering off the edge of a sharp drop to their left. The group peered down to find a destroyed wagon lying on a bed of rocks. Busted crates packing various fabrics were sprawled across the snow, along with a dead mule that’s neck appeared to have broken in the fall.

Ciara pointed to one corner, “I think there’s someone still alive.”

The older sister noticed it a second later: Boots and a reptilian tail poking out from under the wreckage. Ferris and Castellar acted in near unison, passing their reins to Ciara and leaping down the rockface. The horned, anthropomorphic lizard they dragged out of the wagon was in bad shape, covered in gashes and bruises with an odd bent in his tail that hinted at broken bone. Unconscious, he didn’t so much as groan as the two mages flipped him onto his back.

He didn’t react to any of their attempts to wake him, remaining disturbingly still.

“He’s fallen down,” Castellar grimaced.

“In more ways than one,” Ferris muttered, earning a fierce glare from the skeleton.

She couldn’t help herself, not knowing what to do or say in this situation. For monsters, ‘falling down’ was the natural state they entered right before death: A painless slumber and the point of no return. She’d knew a couple of monsters that had fallen down, but only from old age. She didn’t know if it was possible to bring a monster back from injuries this grave.

If there was so much as a fraction of a chance to save the reptile though, they needed to act fast. Ferris braced the wounded monster while Castellar did what he could to stabilize his HP.

“It’s a miracle the cold didn’t claim him,” she added.

“Let’s just get him somewhere safe before it can.”

Blue magic or no, Castellar wasn’t able to carry him by himself. Having Ciara toss down some rope, the pair bundled the reptile in one of the larger cuts of fabric and jointly lifted him up. They strapped him onto Ciara’s horse, the two sisters riding together as the group hurried onward.    

Chapter 27

Around an hour and a half of searching brought them to a woodcutter's cottage—located so deep within the forest that they never would have found it were it not for a well-trodden path hidden along the icy undergrowth. The home was in desperate want of repair. There were cracks along its walls and the roof bowed inward on one side. The only hint to anyone living there at all was a thin trail of smoke pouring out of its small chimney. 

Ciara knocked on the door, peering inside when there was no answer. She looked over her shoulder at her sister and shook her head: Aside from the startled cry of an unseen hen, no one was there.  

Unwilling to risk waiting a moment longer, they brought the stranger indoors, spread some blankets on the floor, and laid him down so that Ciara could begin tending to him. Propriety would have to wait: They could ask for forgiveness for breaking in later. 

As her sister began checking him over, Ferris took a studious glance around the interior. It was a humble layout: One large space that made up the kitchen and holding area for three chickens and a rooster, a loft to slept in, and a small pantry. An assortment of tools that had seen more than their share of use hung from the walls. Other than that, the home was something of a mess, with blankets, bits of hay, and other random objects scattered about with no sense of place. 

"What do you think? Does he have a chance?" she asked as Ciara finished looking at the reptilian.

The girl delayed answering by rummaging through her pack of medical supplies first. She took inventory, then sighed, "Maybe... It's not like we've ever tried healing anyone in this shape before. I won't make any promises." 

"If he can still swallow food down, that would be a good sign," Castellar recommended, "It would mean his reflexes are still working. Anything magic-based would be best.”

Ciara gave him a fiery look, not responding to him directly, but nevertheless continuing to fish through her bag until she pulled out some herbs along with a pestle and mortar. She ground them into a thick paste and scraped it past the other monster's teeth. Much to the trio's relief, they saw the reptilian's throat pulse slightly after a few seconds.  

It really was a good sign for multiple reasons. He wouldn't starve, he wouldn't choke since that kind of food could be immediately absorbed by the body, they could raise his HP without issue, and the fact that he was able to swallow at all meant that he was in a less severe state than expected.

Castellar knelt down and saw to the lizard's external injuries while Ciara prepared more herbs. "He'll need a splint," she said.

Ferris volunteered to fetch one and grab some their rations while she was at it. They'd already broke in: They didn't need to rob the home's owner as well if they didn't have to. Exploring the back of the building, she found an empty pig pen, a large stack of chopped wood, and another worn trail leading deeper into the forest.

Given the destruction they'd passed on their way over, it was hard to believe a normal homestead like this was still occupied. Thanks to the distance, it seemed as though the residents were spared from whatever chaos took out the nearest village, but it would've been smarter to move. Based on their maps, there wasn't another village within a suitable range. No people meant no commerce, and it was unlikely that the average traveler would have any need for a woodcutter's wares.  

She didn't have long to wonder what kind of person lived there. While Ferris searched for a decent stick to use for a splint, a middle-aged human woman stepped out from among the trees. Beneath the heavy layers of clothes and grime, she had a stout, rugged frame. An axe rested against her shoulder and a load of freshly-cut wood was strapped to her back. Ashen brown hair poked out from beneath a felt hat, doing nothing to hide the burn scars that ran along her left ear, cheek, and down her neck. 

Ferris hid her assumptions with a steady expression. She wouldn't voice anything aloud since it was only a guess, but she could imagine what had happened here. It was easy to envision a story she'd already lived through herself.

 It was better to navigate the situation carefully. If her guess was correct, then there was no telling how the local would react to a group of monsters and mages forcing their way inside of her home. Sticks bundled in her arms, Ferris bowed at the woman in greeting, "Hello, ma'am. I'm sorry for the sudden appearance, but I'm afraid my company and I need a bit of help." 

To be respectful, but not too stuffy; insistent, but not threatening or demanding... She tried her best to explain things in a way her teachers might have. Her presence itself seemed to make the woman nervous. It likely didn't help that she seemed to be alone. Ferris needed to do what she could to assure her and keep those nerves from escalating into hostility.

"We have supplies. All we need is a place to rest," she said, "And, of course, we'll do what we can to repay you for the trouble." 

For a few seconds, the woman said nothing. She wore an almost deer-like stare, a gaze akin prey that had never before had an adversary facing a hunter for the first time. Ferris hugged the sticks even tighter, aiming to look harmless. If it were Castellar, she'd understand, but she thought she looked the part well enough. Maybe it was her eye color that seemed too intimidating... 

Thankfully, the woman soon relaxed her shoulders and answered Ferris with a resigned sigh, "I don't need payment. If you need to rest a while though, I'd ask you to help around a bit."

The crimson mage gave her an appreciative nod, "We're much obliged." 

Ferris asked to carry the logs, but her offer was refused. She followed a step behind the woman as they walked back to the cottage. In that short period of silence—her careful nature getting the better of her and still finding it a bit odd that the other would live in such an isolated place—she cast a quick appraisal spell: 

ELUWEDD — LV 1 ATK 14(8) DEF 2(3)
"Is wary of you.”

She supposed the results weren't surprising. The woman's attack strength was higher than expected, being nearly that of a soldier's, but it was likely thanks to years of hard labor. Overall, compared to anyone in their group, her stats weren't anything to be concerned about.  

It was too much to expect her to be completely at ease just from a brief explanation. The woodcutter immediately tensed upon entering her home and seeing the trio on the floor. A fierce flash of recognition ignited in her gaze.  

"I know this lizard. He passed through here only a couple days ago."  

Ferris raised a brow, "Was he alright when you saw him last? Was he with anyone else?"

"No, he was travelling by himself. He traded me a few ells of cloth. He was fine when he left." 

Introductions were brief. Castellar stood up and bowed, thanking Eluwedd for her hospitality despite the sudden imposition. As he lifted his head, however, his eyes briefly sparked with magic—likely appraising her the same way Ferris did only moments earlier. Satisfied, he took the bundle of sticks from Ferris' arms and began to measure them against the reptile's broken bones.

Meanwhile, Eluwedd did her own cursory scan of the trio. She stared at Ciara, then took a second look at Ferris and Castellar and seemed to relax a bit more. Ferris could only assume that she was trying to guess their age. Maybe their being so young put her at ease. 

Granted, age and experience couldn't be measured equally, but they didn't have to share that tidbit about themselves.

Ciara only needed an extra set of hands to keep the splint in place. While Castellar stepped back outside to find better cover for their horses, Ferris assisted the woodcutter with supper. As planned, a lighter, separate meal with only magic-based ingredients had to be made for their patient: For themselves, they made a soup of hard-boiled eggs stuffed with herbs with a side of hard bread and dried fruits.  

Unusual as the atmosphere was, the first bite rekindled a feeling of homesickness that Ferris hadn't felt in a long time. She was so used to a hearty diet of river fish, freshly baked treats, subtle spices, and a wide range of crops rarely grown beyond the Monster Kingdom that she'd almost forgotten the simpler fare from her childhood. The soup was something straight out of her memory, of winters huddled at the hearth by her mother's side as their family's own tiny flock of hens clucked behind them. It wasn't a bad feeling anymore.

Again, the crimson mage thought her assumptions regarding the woman’s past were correct. When she asked how much food they should make, Eluwedd only recommended enough for the four of them. She looked around the home once more. There were two beds in the loft, but only one of them looked slept-in. There had only been one set of footprints outside the cottage. Rather than ask that they wait for an unseen someone to hurry home, Eluwedd dipped out the soup without a word as soon as it was ready.

The skeleton wasn’t so delicate, directly asking her the same questions that Ferris had only allowed to echo inside of her head. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but where is your family? I can’t imagine they’re comfortable leaving you here alone while they’re away. We’ve heard the roads have grown more treacherous in these areas.”

The woodcutter halted mid-spoonful, then swallowed down a cut of egg to give herself a moment to recover. “I am widowed,” she said flatly, “My husband and sons passed almost nine years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” There was a pause.  “However… wouldn’t it be better to move closer to some other village then? It would be more convenient at least. Do you fear there will be trouble if you go?”

Eluwedd shook her head, “I do have to go a long way to sell my wares, but I manage. It’s just that I can’t bear to leave my home. Not yet.”

Ferris made a point of brushing back the hair near her left ear, pretending to scratch her neck and tapping her skin with her forefinger so that only Castellar could see it. As he glanced her way, she shot him a glare and repeated the action. Stop talking.

The lights of his sockets flickered over to Eluwedd, paying more attention to her scars. He changed the subject.

“We were sent here because the rumors of attacks on the roads,” he explained, “If you must travel and often, I only hope we can give you a little more peace of mind. We’ve dealt with bandits before, ma’am. Rest assured, they will be dealt with.”

Eluwedd looked at him for a long moment with wide eyes, then just as abruptly pulled her gaze away, clearing her throat. “I wish you luck then. I would rest easier.”

Little conversation followed after that. The air was heavy with discomfort. Inside, Ferris groaned over her thwarted efforts, praying that the awkward evening wouldn’t get any worse.

Although she didn’t speak much, Eluwedd was a decent hostess. She fetched some more blankets for their patient and offered to let them use one of the beds. The trio of mages agreed to sleep in shifts, with one tending to the reptile and another keeping watch. It would be a long night.

Chapter 28

“Keep an eye on him until your sister wakes up. I’m going to shovel the snow out front.”

Hours of solid quiet were broken by Castellar’s order. Sitting near the wall in a meditative pose, Ferris opened one eye to peek at the skeleton as he stepped out into the morning light without waiting for a response. They’d both been awake on the last shift, so frankly, she was glad to have the brief reprieve from him.

The lizard’s condition hadn’t changed much. He was stable, but remained comatose. As she checked his breathing and appraised his HP, she wondered if monsters really didn’t feel any pain after falling down. She hoped not. If he ended up dying on them, against all of their efforts, then at least they could let him die comfortably.

“Hang on if you can,” she whispered, not sure if he could hear anything either, “We’ve put a lot of work in trying to save your scales. It’d be rude of you not to thank us.”

The reptilian didn’t so much as twitch. He released the same, steady breaths he’d taken during the entire night.

The faint sound of crunching snow rustled through the walls. It half-amazed the young mage that Castellar was interested in handling such a chore without anyone prodding him to do it. True, he served at the Tobius’ side, so it might’ve been habit, but those were administrative tasks. Much of the mundane work that needed to be done at the guild—cooking, cleaning, and so forth—was mainly handled by students and the majordomo. If anything, she imagined that Castellar would be glad to shrug off whatever chores he could, given his background and how much of a workload he had to endure during the latter half of his apprenticeship.

She distinctly remembered Lamont running him ragged. The Head of the Yellow Mages never did accept the skeleton back into their ranks the way that the guildmaster, Madame Valda, and others did. Eventually, fiery glares and overt bullying turned to teasing words and roughhousing, but there was always a tension to their interactions. If Castellar ever did betray the Arnaud Guild again, nothing would keep the veteran from reaping justice just as he’d planned to the first time.

That’s why it was so surprising to see them together at the Wildfire Festival. Ferris doubted that the hatchet between them was fully buried, so she suspected it had more to do with the fact that they were both talented archers. It was probably that Monty just wanted to use him to show off. If Monty ever learned that Tobius planned to pass on leadership of the guild to Castellar, he’d most likely stand against it.

Noticing the fire was a little low, she added another log to the hearth before returning to the reptile’s side. Both Ciara and Eluwedd woke up about ten minutes later. They threw together a simple frumenty for breakfast—Ferris fought to keep a straight face when Castellar returned and tried to hide his reluctance toward the gruel—then decided on what their next move would be.

“We didn’t have time before, so we should properly investigate the wreckage,” Castellar suggested.

Although Ferris agreed, one thing bothered her, “Last night’s snowfall won’t make it easy.”

“Yes, and even if there were any tracks, our criminals may be long gone by now. Even so, it’s the only clue we have.”

“At least one of us would need to stay here.”

They already knew which of them was best left behind. Castellar was the most experienced among them in the field. If they couldn’t find any solid, physical evidence to track down the bandits, Ferris’ talent as a seer would be needed. Meanwhile, Ciara was the better healer between them, and Eluwedd seemed most comfortable around her.

The two older mages looked to the girl. Disbelieving, her shoulders fell, “You can’t be serious. I don’t want to stay behind!”

Ferris placed a hand on her little sister’s shoulder, nodding to the fallen monster. “Right now, he needs you. You’re the best chance he has.”

“You’re the one who knows about herbs and remedies!” 

She gave Ciara a sad, yet confident smile. By now, the youngest of the two Mollendale girls had learned just as much as whatever their parents knew as modest apothecaries. There was no telling how much more she’d learned from studying under Percy, Garrick, and Hystrangea. It wasn’t a matter of skill.

The real issues she had weren’t ones that could be brought up openly. Not here. Ciara gazed pleadingly at her older sibling, her eyes darting over to Castellar only once. Ferris squeezed her shoulder.

“You’ll be fine,” she said, “So will we. We’ll be back before the sun sets.”

Having said that, Ferris still wanted to take precautions. When no one was looking, she slipped her old dagger into Ciara’s hands and mutely ordered her to hide it somewhere under her clothes. Even if Eluwedd didn’t have any EXP and the chances of the reptile waking up were slim, even if Ciara knew a few defensive spells, nothing would ever be enough for her gamble with her sister’s life.

The two older mages set out immediately. Before they jumped back into their investigation, the first thing Ferris wanted to do was locate a save point. Sadly, there wasn’t one to be seen and she wasn’t comfortable asking Castellar to stop just so she could hunt one down. They rode on without a word.

As they neared the stretch of road where they’d found the lizard, they saw a thin pillar of smoke in the far distance. Neither of them thought much of it though: They remembered that there were a few, scattered people left from the village. The distance from Eluwedd’s home to the other locals’ was still too far to be very convenient, and they likely had little to no need for a woodcutter, but it was nice to think the woman had some company around.

Discovering that she was somehow riding alone, Ferris tore herself out of her thoughts and turned her head around searchingly. Castellar lagged several paces behind her, eying a torn-down fence with a pile of rubble beyond it. It was hard to read his face and she called out to him. He startled, tapped his horse with his foot, and picked up the pace once more.

After a minute, he mused aloud, “Before I came to the guild, I joined my father and older sisters on missions along the border. The outposts we guarded were like the one you and I crossed as children. Occasionally, we were called to deal with invaders on other fronts.”

Ferris clicked her tongue in annoyance. If this was his new attempt at ‘making up,’ she wasn’t interested.

“I’ve seen plenty of dead and dying men—humans and monsters, villains and innocents alike. I’ve come across a hundred terrible scenes painted by marauders and murderers. I played a part in some of them,” he continued, “However, this particular kind of destruction… is new to me. I’ve never seen scars last this long.”

The young seer’s brows furrowed. She wasn’t sure what to make of the confession. Castellar didn’t elaborate any further, as if he were just talking for talking’s sake.

It didn’t really surprise her though, that this was new to him. Fraktur’s legacy was a fearsome one, but it was also said that the region under his authority was secure and prosperous. Any threat to his domain was swiftly dealt with. The guild handled whatever threats faced the Boroughs in much the same way. Beyond that, growing up travelling from one battlefield to the next without once glancing back, of course he wouldn’t know just how much was left to rot; the long-term damages that made it almost impossible for the common man to climb out of the pit they’d been thrust in.

“How did Mollendale fare, after the attack?”

Ferris blinked at him, then stared at the path ahead. A warm fog drifted from her lips and into the cold air as she took a deep breath. “Not much better. That first winter was the hardest.” she finally answered, “Although, I imagine it’s recovered somewhat by now. Greedy ass that our lord was, at least he wasn’t stupid enough to let the town completely die.”

If he had done that, there would’ve been no one left for him to profit from. Perhaps even his own soldiers would’ve turned their swords on his fat neck.

 “I can’t understand it,” Castellar shook his head in distaste, “On one side, you have a leader willing to see everything they were entrusted with fall to ruin. On the other, a group so consumed by ideology that they cannot see nor care for the chaos left in their wake. Destruction, theft, and murder, I know; not the sheer idiocy that makes a person call it virtuous.”

“If you can’t understand it, that’s a good thing,” she said, catching herself at the unintended compliment, “The way I see it, typically, the only difference between a warmonger and a revolutionary is that at least the warmonger is being honest with himself when the bodies start piling up.”

The skeleton chuffed, “A bit of an overstatement, perhaps, though I can’t say you’re wrong.”

The snow did cause them some trouble, however, not enough had fallen to bury the merchant wagon. Castellar checked it over for clues while Ferris poked through the wreckage for any kind of identification. Both of their searches turned up empty.

“The more I look at it, the more it seems like he just ran off the road. It doesn’t look like anything’s stolen,” Ferris placed her hands at her waist, stretching her back after spending the last half-hour hunched over.

Castellar’s mouth twisted in a sour line, “The damage is too extensive for me to make any other kind of judgement either. All of this could’ve been caused by the fall.”

They split up: Ferris sat down on the side of the road and tried to peer into the past while Castellar scouted around for any signs that someone else had been there other than themselves.

The vision that she eventually received was a lot harder to decipher than the one that played before her in Hunter’s Hollow. A quiet night was interrupted by a loud rumble and the distant baying of the mule. The wagon turned a hard corner seconds later, causing Ferris to instinctively leap out of the way in response, breaking her concentration before she could take in many details.

She tried once more further up the path. All that stood out to her were the mule’s and lizard’s terrified faces. It appeared as though something had spooked the animal and the merchant had failed to control it. Their jarring speed combined with the cliff’s height and the slippery ice on the already rugged terrain… Again, it looked like an accident.

Castellar waved at her to get back on her horse as soon as he walked back into her line of sight. His own efforts had been fruitless.

“Not a single scuff or print to be found,” he murmured, “A few broken twigs, but nothing that a small animal couldn’t have done.”

Ferris shrugged, “It could be for the best. Wouldn’t it be better if it was an accident this time and we’re only overthinking it?”

He shot her a frustrated look as he hopped into his own saddle. They both knew there was only so much that could be pinned on spooked animals and iced-over roads.

As if in answer to their discontent, they ran into some trouble on the way back. Catching sight of a mess of red threads hanging above them, Ferris glanced up a tall ledge where she noticed a dark purple flame billowing. It was a humanoid fire monster next to another, shorter one that looked like a living candle cap.

The young seer glowered. Was one of the scattered remnants of the Conflagration lurking nearby? If so, it would make sense why she had such an ill omen about Kobalt coming this way. If monsters who merely associated with humans weren’t safe from them, then they would definitely target a hybrid.

The two mages made short work of the fiery pair. Ferris had made a promise to Ciara that she would be back before sunset and she intended to keep it.  

Chapter 29

Two more days passed without much progress in any regard. At dawn, they’d search the wilderness or question the few other forest denizens. By late afternoon, they assisted Eluwedd with her woodcutting and housework. The lizard still wouldn’t wake up and, although Ferris and Castellar succeeded in hunting down a handful of marauders, they couldn’t figure out the exact reason for the sharp increase in attacks.

With a bit of interrogating, the pair of fire monsters that Ferris and Castellar handled did confess to being a part of a larger group of bandits, but not the Conflagration. Unless they had a resilience of steel, the mages had no reason to doubt them.

“We should still be vigilant,” Castellar had said, “Their movement originated in Elmspyre. It wouldn’t be shocking to learn that someone was attempting to rekindle it.”

"It's a possibility..." the young seer murmured. However, the more time passed, the less sure she was of that being the case here. Before reaching the height of their influence, the Conflagration was already loud and shameless in strategy. They didn't just openly commit crimes; they were proud of them. And they would've been more likely to pick off the last of the locals than to target random travelers.  

She glanced down at the reptile. While the Conflagration did attack other monsters, every bit the thieves they were, they wouldn't have left so much as a scrap of his merchandise behind. If the wagon's slip down the cliff wasn't an accident, then the attack had to have been personal. 

Every clue they thought they had was too disconnected to form a complete picture. For all they knew, maybe none of the attacks were related. Maybe there was a territory clash between criminals, or maybe they'd figured out that few sentries patrolled this far out from their own towns. At this point, it'd probably be easier to try to purge the bandits completely than look for the root of the problem.

She and Castellar had already stopped at every homestead that'd caught their eye to ask around. The responses were all the same: Either they didn't know about the bandits advancing or they didn't want to talk to a pair of outsiders. Like Eluwedd, they only wanted to protect what little they had left.

Ferris' brows creased. Unless they could find help, the investigation was left at a standstill. They couldn't travel very far in this weather without risking the merchant's health, or without risking their own safety by protecting him during a possible attack. They must've covered every inch of ground within the area by now, and had paced up and down the road more times than she could count.

After listening to them debate over their next course of action, the widow offered, "There are a few sink holes where someone could easily hide, although I don’t know where they lead. I could show you them."

Castellar briefly considered it, then stood up with a stretch, “We would appreciate that. If you’re truly alright with it, then let’s be off.”

As he walked toward the door of the cottage, Ferris peered outside. They’d only just gotten back from their last search and the sun had begun to dip below the horizon. They hadn’t eaten yet either. “You want to check it out this late?”

“Only to confirm if it’s worth looking into. I don’t plan to engage yet,” he explained, his face growing stern, “Some delay might be expected, but we can’t keep wasting time. We have the entire road to Elmspyre to cross and back. Tobius will expect us to send word to the guild soon.”

The skeleton stared at Eluwedd, as if quietly reaffirming that she was fine with playing guide. She tensed, then slowly nodded. Grabbing her coat and axe, she followed him out.

Ferris debated whether or not she should go with them, if only for the woman’s sake; however, the woodcutter seemed to have grown more accustomed to their presence. Castellar was minding himself and if she was willing to take this step forward, then Ferris had no reason to watch over her as if she were some nervous child.

The two claimed that they wouldn’t be gone terribly long. Left by themselves, Ferris and Ciara tended to the chores and prepared supper—enjoying their share and leaving the rest to stew for Castellar and Eluwedd’s return.

Ferris winced a bit as she noticed the tired circles under her sister’s eyes. Her and Castellar’s constant hunt was a grind; however, taking care of a patient in such bad shape at nearly all hours of the day wasn’t a picnic either. The hours that Ciara spent in the cottage alone with no one except the half-dead monster had to feel long.

Catching Ferris’ condoling gaze, she admitted aloud, “I still don’t feel like I know what I’m doing—or if it’s even possible to save him. Maybe we’re just delaying the inevitable.”

“Think about who we take after,” the elder daughter of Mollendale weakly smiled, “Who’s got a better shot at saving him than us?”

Ciara returned the expression, albeit a bit more strained.

“Why don’t you take a quick nap? I can watch over him for a while.”

“You’re one to talk,” Ciara snorted in reply, “I’ve been stuck sitting here while you’ve been running around in the snow.”

They were all going on fumes. None of their trio rested much during the day and their rotating shifts in the night didn’t do them any favors. After some back-and-forth, Ferris agreed to rest first—but not before completing a few more tasks.

That night was particularly cold. She climbed into the loft and grabbed one of the better blankets for Ciara. As she folded it across one arm, her eyes roamed across the simple furnishings positioned around her. The bed nearest the ladder had a large depression in it from its many years of use. Until they’d arrived, the bed closest to the wall looked as though is hadn’t been touched in a long time. The sheets were kept clean and the bedding of dry grass replaced, but she didn’t think anyone else had actually used it since Eluwedd’s family had passed.

The items strewn about near the bed were similarly preserved: Children’s shoes tucked beneath the bedframe and a small box of toys nestled in the corner. Most of them were crudely-fashioned out of wood, yet lovingly roughed up from countless days of play.

At the top of the pile was a sling. One of its cords was a slightly different color, as if it had been recently replaced. Curious, Ferris picked it up. It was slick to the touch and she caught a faint, oily scent of medicinal herbs.

She saw Eluwedd standing in a high place late afternoon, her face as aged and scarred as it was in present-day. Scooping a few heavy stones off of the ground, the widow loaded them into the sling. The nervous gleam in her eyes was replaced by something far colder and more calculated.

Ferris practically lunged down from the loft. Boots hitting the earth with a solid thud, a nearby hen flew to the other side of the cottage in a panic. She skid across the ground to where the merchant was laying and began to check him over for small, specifically-sized bruises.

“What are you doing?” Ciara stared at her, bewildered.

It was a pointless search. Whatever markings she thought she might find would’ve been hidden by the much larger injuries he sustained in the crash—if he had the marks she was looking for at all.

A child’s sling wasn’t a particularly dangerous weapon and certainly not at a very long range. It would hurt to be struck by one; however, with the exception a particularly unlucky shot, it could only kill smaller prey.

But a mule wouldn’t know that. A mule was easily spooked.

The young seer bolted out the door, hoping that the sinking feeling in her gut was wrong.

There were clear footprints for her to follow through the snow. Cluttered as the way was with twigs and brambles, she was still faster on horseback. She threw herself onto her steed and raced into the shadows.

It had already been over two hours since they’d left. It was difficult to say if that was enough for Castellar and Eluwedd to have gone very far. Ferris tried to concentrate her magic on the way ahead for further guidance. In her mind’s eye, a shimmering, red thread seemed to weave its way through the trees—a promise of a path already walked.

Numerous, fast-paced visions flashed through her head: She saw spectral images of them traveling before her like living hieroglyphs telling a tale. Some almost made her fall off her horse from how they played with her true vision. Each was shattered one right after the other as she raced through them.

They didn’t talk much. Eluwedd took the lead while Castellar watched their backs. What words did pass between them seemed pleasant enough, if awkwardly spoken. A right turn. Move straight. A left turn. Move straight. Mind the pit. Might the briars. Turn right. Move straight.

Her horse listened to her less as the path narrowed and the terrain worsened. She jerked on the reins with a curse. She had to be getting close! The thread was beginning to taper as she drew near a history not yet fully woven.

They reached a spot where the ground moved in a sloping crater and then suddenly dipped down a high precipice. Using the trees for balance, they carefully made their descent. They circled the area and found a safe ledge to observe the dim light of a low fire hidden within a pocket in the earth. Squinting against the shadows, Castellar stepped forward for a closer look.

Behind him, Eluwedd raised her axe—

A white light fired through wilderness somewhere up ahead. Nearing the slope, Ferris jumped off her horse. Brambles and icicles snagged at her clothes as she tore through them. She spotted Eluwedd climbing back up. The woodcutter froze.

The glow of the crimson mage’s eyes burned like hellfire in the dark.

There was some commotion further down. The fact that she didn’t see the skeleton anywhere bothered her, but she knew that Castellar wasn’t the sort to go down easily. Eluwedd was now sporting a searing gash on her arm. She must’ve struck first and then fled.

For a moment, the two humans were left at a standstill. Ferris braced herself for action, but delayed summoning any more spells for the time being. Eluwedd brandished her axe at her side, but made no move to threaten the seer with it.

If the lizard’s condition was anything to go by, the woman was too hesitant to do any heavy damage—at least personally. She could’ve done more to ensure that he died. For however many times she’d put on this act, she must’ve been relying on the bandits, or the elements, or whatever to finish off her dirty work. Their group just happened to find him before something else could.

But whether or not she was truly responsible for crashing the wagon, what could she have been thinking, turning on them now? Trying to pick them off one-by-one wouldn’t work. So long as she had her guard up, even Ciara could likely best her in a fight. She would’ve been better off simply waiting for them to leave. Perhaps the sight of the lizard and the possibility of his recovery—small as it was—scared her into revealing herself.

The silence between them went on for too long. If Eluwedd was going to make excuses or attempt to cover up what she’d done by placing the blame on the bandits hiding below, she missed her chance. 

“You don’t have a drop of EXP. My guess is you wanted to keep it that way so you wouldn’t get caught,” Ferris growled. “You got creative. But it’s a lot harder to fix a situation or beat someone within an inch of their life than it is to kill them outright, so why do it? Why put in all that effort?”

There would always be groups who used a mask of innocence to hide their intent: Parents or older siblings who used little ones as a distraction while they did their crimes behind-the-scenes, people who played the victim or used a friendly guise while luring their witless targets into ambushes. In this case...

The woodcutter's expression shifted into one of dark resolve. Her eyes were shaking. There was a fire there, but a desperate one: Flickering erratically, eating away at anything it was given and releasing a blinding cloud of poisonous smog. A confused and festering sort of hatred, the kind a person didn't let die because it meant facing the dark.

“Do you know what it’s like to lose everything?” asked Eluwedd.

“I do,” Ferried replied cooly, unmoved.

She huffed in disbelief, countering the young seer’s impassive expression with a manic and indignant grin. “And yet look at you. Practically one of them in all but skin!”

“I think I could say the same about you.”

The threads warned Ferris right before Eluwedd lunged at her. She dove under the swing of the woodcutter’s axe, swiveling at the waist as she called her Astral Dagger to her hand. With one, piercing motion, she cut her opponent’s throat.

She really should have tried coming up with a decent excuse.

Ferris jogged down the slope, eying the shadows to see if any of them moved. The marauders had spread out now: She could tell that much from the indistinguishable shouts between them. They were combing the area for whatever had disturbed their rest.

Ferris debated whether or not she should start picking them off herself when a gloved hand captured her wrist and pulled her behind a limestone outcrop.

Chapter 30

It was Castellar. Ferris nearly tripped over a body—one of the bandits he'd managed to take out on his own—as he dragged her into his hiding place. He was in a lot worse shape than she'd expected; his features scrunched in pain, a sizable chunk of his HP gone, and his tunic shredded in the back. Breathing somewhat laboriously, he leaned against the rock. He hissed through his teeth as Ferris grabbed him by his shoulder to turn him and inspect the wound. Particles of dust broke off the long carving etched into his lower ribs. 

She was more angry than concerned. "And here you're the one always demanding that I be careful," she grimaced, "How did you let her do this?"

"All caught up, aren't you?" he scowled, not answering her. 

"Lucky for you, yes." She peered around the outcrop. “How many are we dealing with?”

He nudged the fallen bandit with the tip of his boot, “Besides this one, I counted eight—humans and monsters both.  Eluwedd ran off—”

“She’s dead.” 

The news stopped Castellar for a moment, catching him off-guard. Then he nodded, quickly accepting it. Ferris narrowed her gaze at him. Stalwart fighter that he was, this wasn't anything she'd come to except from him. He'd been acting odd anyway, ever since their tumble through time-space to the unknown landscapes under Mt. Ebott. What exactly did that specter say to rattle him so much? Why would it matter enough to mess with his head for so long, or was he just letting one thing after another muddy his thinking? 

For a monster as strong as he was, there was only one way someone like the woodcutter could've injured him this badly: He'd had to have lowered his defenses. The ever vigilant, ever strict, unflinching warrior following his father's footsteps struck down by a magicless, middle-aged woman with a sob story! The very idea of it made her want to snatch him up by the front of his tunic and jar some sense back into him! 

Now wasn't the time for that though. They needed to take down the criminals that surrounded them and hurry back to the cottage so he could receive proper treatment. Ferris used her limited healing magic to get the skeleton back on his feet.  

They would need to be careful with any spell they cast. As most of them would emit some light, they risked giving away their positions. Ferris leapt into the trees, landing on a thick branch and waiting to make sure no one heard its heavy sway. She and Castellar stared at one another in mute conversation. She would strike from above; he would do what he could from below.

She could only see three of the bandits anywhere close-by. Two of them were smart enough to move as a pair. In peak form, Castellar could take out a small army if he wished, but she wasn’t about to bet on that now. Bounding from treetop to treetop, she suspended herself over the duo, their silhouettes sharpening: One human, one feline.

Considering her opponents, she wouldn’t be able to deal with them in one move with speed alone. She picked the latter as her first target. Yellow eyes lifted in shock as Ferris pounced, driving her foot between the cat’s shoulder blades and knocking him to the ground before he could properly react. The human tried to shout, but was cut off when Ferris extended her Astral Dagger through his heart. She followed by piercing the blade through the feline’s skull—dissipating the magical weapon as she felt the weight beneath her crumble to dust.

She returned to her place among the branches above and waited to see if anyone had noticed. She noticed Castellar sneaking up behind his own target. He grabbed the bandit by the head and gave it a clean twist. It was a relief to see that he still had the energy to put up a fight. With one less thing to worry about, she continued the hunt.

There was a crablike monster several meters away, along with a behemoth wearing mix-matched armor that was impossible to ignore. Ferris opted to hold off dealing with either of them: Breaking through the crustacean’s hard shell or battling the titan would require a much more drawn-out match than either she or Castellar could immediately deal with. If the skeleton’s numbers were right, that left three other bandits unaccounted for.

Ferris leapt within the cradle of a thick oak, spotting her next quarry not long after: An insectoid. He continuously flexed his wing muscles to shake off the cold, the soft vibrations doing little to keep himself hidden. She used the same strategy as before, moving directly above her target and taking him out with a decisive strike.

Before she could leap back into the treetops once again, there was a shout. Someone had found Eluwedd’s body. The seer gritted her teeth. She hoped they wouldn’t find her horse next.

The short distraction cost her. A mace—its head nearly as big as her own—swung out from the darkness. She was struck in the side and went flying, crashing through the limbs of young trees until she managed to catch herself against a wide trunk. Blood seeping from cut lips, she looked up.

The behemoth towered over her, slowly navigating his way around the dense foliage. Ferris breathed in a large gulp of cold air, listening to the alert calls that surrounded her: Someone was approaching from behind, one—likely the crab—from the front, and another from where she’d initially made her way down into the crater.      

It hurt to move. Holding back a wince, Ferris rolled behind the tree she clung to and tried to put as many obstacles between herself and the large monster as possible. Except for their overall humanoid form and bulging muscles, their features were almost indistinguishable beneath the armor. Only one other thing stood out: An extremely thick neck with what seemed to be a second mouth with rows of jagged teeth carved above their collarbone.

She couldn’t assume that their anatomy was the same as the typical humanoids. Figuring out where to land her attacks would take some trial and error.       

That was a luxury she didn’t really have at the moment. The behemoth stomped after her. They swung their mace out as if to hurl it through the air. Ferris braced herself to dodge—

A flash of red shot at her from the left. There was a metallic click and the rattling of chains as the weapon’s blunt tip suddenly fired and circled toward her from the same direction. She ducked, narrowly avoiding the blow.

The scuttle of legs alerted Ferris to the crab rushing her from behind. She swiveled at the waist and cast her trap spell, sweeping her target around in a purple hourglass. Focus split, she couldn’t keep him in one place, but she did knock the struggling crustacean onto his back.

When the behemoth swung at her again, the chain caught on a low-hanging branch in her place. Ferris severed it with a solar disc and returned fire, the spell orbiting around her opponent. They raised the shaft of their mace in defense, successfully knocking it off-course. Concentrating their magic, a new head manifested from the end of their weapon in an instant.

A wall of bones suddenly erupted at her side, protecting her from a mass of bullets launched by unseen assailant. Castellar appeared not a moment after, his body coated in a fine layer of dust and red droplets. He propelled himself into the air from a tree growing at a fierce angle against the slope. As he knocked back the titan’s helmeted head with a rounded swing of his staff, the crimson mage sent a lunar disc flying right into their target’s chest. The behemoth took a couple steps back and dropped to one knee.

Castellar wouldn’t be able to make keep making those kinds of attacks. He tried to hide it, but a strained grimace tore across his face when he landed. Even so, he ignored his wounds. With a wave of his hand, the bones standing guard next to Ferris pointed out and rocketed from the ground. There was a strangled cry from afar as one of the bones found its mark.

Miraculously, the skeleton was still quick enough to summon his shield before the titan could lash out at him with their mace. Nevertheless, the force behind the hit made him recoil back—almost toppling him. Ferris closed in. As the two pushed back against one another, she noticed a break in the behemoth’s armor: A chink in their gauntlets where only thin leather covered the bend of their wrist.

If they were anywhere close to a reasonable size, it would’ve been a near impossible mark. However, their wrist was almost as wide as an iron skillet. The young woman flung a solar disc at the opening.

The behemoth dropped their weapon out of reflex as the disc carved into them.  The two mages attacked in unison—one aiming for the neck and the other the chest—and with their combined strength finally downed the massive monster.

The crablike bandit had the hardest way to go out of any of his gang. Even with his belly exposed, it took some time to crack through his tough exoskeleton.

Finishing him off sapped the last bit of energy Castellar had. Weakened, he had no choice but to lean against Ferris’ shoulder. She braced him as they made their way out of the crater.

“Their camp…” he grunted.

“Tomorrow,” she said. For now, they had to make a tactical retreat. If there were any stragglers, they’d missed and they erased their tracks, then so be it. 

Ferris brought her hand to her lips and whistled. A moment later, her reliable mare trotted out of the shadows.

---

It took a lot longer to return to the cottage than it did for Ferris to make the trip into the forest by herself. Ciara was anxiously waiting at the door. When she saw the state they were in, she rushed out and snatched the reins from her older sister's hands. She gave Ferris a questioning glance: What had happened? Where was Eluwedd?

A firm shake of the head told her enough. 

Ferris brought Castellar inside and made him rest on some of the spare blankets while Ciara hitched the horse. The cut on his back hadn't gotten any worse and he didn't have any other visible injuries. Rest would serve as a better remedy than anything, but it would be better to give him something for the pain.  

Ciara placed a hand on her arm, "You're hurt too. Let me see." 

Ferris tried to shake her off, to tell her that her injuries were minor and that they had to prepare more potions since they were running out of other ingredients for their usual remedies, but Ciara wasn't having it. As she pulled up Ferris' undershirt, the younger of the two Mollendale daughters frowned at the ripe bruise forming over her sister's skin. She forced Ferris to apply a hyssop salve over the injury before allowing her to tackle anything else.

Ciara took another look at their inventory while Ferris bandaged Castellar's ribs. Although they had stopped dusting, leaving behind a clean line, the seer didn't want to risk the fracture growing any wider.

The skeleton tried to pull himself away from her, "My bones aren't as fragile as a human's. They'll heal soon enough." 

She held him in place, countering sourly, "Not if you don't give them a chance to." 

"I didn't realize you cared so much." 

"I don't. You know better than anyone that Tobius will never let me hear the end of it if you die."

Ferris made short work of the task, then hastened to the unexplored pantry to search for anything useful. There wasn’t much to pick from; just ordinary foodstuffs and some dried, wild herbs. It would have to do. If Castellar didn’t recover quickly, then they would need to find someone willing to trade them supplies.

The young woman placed her forehead against the doorframe in frustration. Would they have such luck? The few people here didn’t think much of strangers, to say the least, and they had so little themselves. How less likely were they to cooperate once they learned of the woodcutter’s death?

While she gathered what she could, Ciara gave Castellar a bowl from their leftover supper. The skeleton ate without comment as the two sisters worked. Soon, he fell asleep and all that could be heard was the soft crackle of the hearth and the fervid grinding and mixing of herbs.

There was too much on Ferris’ mind. What were they to do now? There were no local authorities to report to. How would they go about explaining Eluwedd’s death or was it something they should tell anyone about in the first place? There wasn’t much they could do but carry on their way—abandon both Eluwedd’s body and this house just like any other criminal and their camp that they’d found. All the same, the idea of it made Ferris feel sick to her stomach.

It wasn’t that she clung to any misplaced sympathy for the widow. Bleak as her situation was, Eluwedd hadn’t been completely without choices. She could’ve gone to another town. She could’ve shut out anyone and anything that reminded her of what she’d lost. She could’ve lied or begged for mercy when Ferris confronted her. Maybe her grief was so deep that she thought that anger was all she had to keep her going.

Ferris was well-acquainted with that kind of self-deceptive anger. It was neither comforting nor righteous. All it did was seek to blame and burn. However, it had been Eluwedd’s decision to hold onto it, and Ferris’ understanding of where it came from did not absolve her of her sins. All it did was elicit the seer’s pity. She could have made any other choice.

Her sister called out to her—more than once, apparently. Ciara stood next to her, giving her a worried look.

“It’s been a long night,” was all she explained. They had enough to focus on without her burdening Ciara with her ideas or problems that they hadn’t reached yet.

Ciara stared at her a moment longer, then nodded, “Yeah, I thought it might be when you took off like you did.”

She felt a pang of guilt. “I didn’t mean to run without saying anything.”

“You had to hurry. I get it,” Ciara shrugged, only the twitch of her brow revealing her dissatisfaction, “You could talk to me though, after you’re done saving everybody else. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

Ferris gave her a lopsided grin, pulling one hand away from her work to ruffle the other girl’s hair, “But you’ll always be my little sister.”

Ciara swiped her arm away with a pout, about to retort when a fierce cough sounded behind them.

Castellar was gripping his chest in his sleep. His breath was short and heavy; his brows knotted from whatever ailment had suddenly fallen over him. Getting over her initial shock, Ferris darted to his side. She placed a hand to his skull and noticed it was slick with sweat.

Chapter 31

She couldn’t tell what was wrong with him. It didn’t make any sense—they didn’t give him anything that would’ve caused this type of reaction! What had she overlooked? Was his wound somehow deeper than she thought or was he hiding some other injury?

Ferris rolled him onto his side and examined him again. Nothing. From the outside, everything looked normal. It wasn't like he could choke, so she didn't know where his cough came from. An irritation of some kind? Maybe, but that wouldn't explain the sweating.   

Was his body rejecting the painkiller they'd given him? Monster anatomy was extremely complicated, so it was hard to guess. Skeletons were humanoids, and humanoids and beastmen were more likely to suffer from intolerances or the effects of poison than other species. However, she'd always heard that skeletons were fairly resilient since their bodies didn't react to foreign substances the same way as creatures of meat and flesh.  

Skeletons also tended to absorb whatever they ingested quicker than some other monsters. Ferris wasn't sure if he even had a gag reflex, so trying to make him vomit was doubly pointless. Bloodletting was, of course, impossible, and Ferris didn't know of any equivalent for monsters. That meant that either he would simply have to endure the symptoms or they would need to sort out a cure fast.  

Although Castellar didn't seem to have a fever, she didn't want to chance it. Grabbing the empty bowl beside him and a bundle of scrapped fabric from his ruined tunic, she stood up to fetch some water. "See if we have any dried mandrake, but only give him a little," she told Ciara, "He's already taken one anodyne. We shouldn't give him too strong a dose of another."

However, when she glanced over, her little sister hadn’t moved. Ciara bit her bottom lip and had an almost guilty look in her eyes. Almost. As if nothing was happening, she continued their conversation from just minutes ago.

“I don’t… like that you always keep things from me,” she said with clear effort, clenching and unclenching the front of her skirt, “I know you’re not happy. We tried to escape the guild so many times at first—and then one day, you just decided it was all for the best. But there’s nothing keeping us there now. We’ve both gotten a lot stronger and Madame Valda’s not around anymore.

“Ferris… Let’s just leave.”

“W-what…?”

The young woman’s voice was faint with disbelief. Ciara may not have outright admitted to poisoning Castellar, but she may as well have. It showed in her preparedness and in her body language. Even so, no matter how much she knew Ciara disliked Castellar or how talented of an apothecary she was, the idea that her little sister was capable of scheming and hurting someone like this— 

"I didn't give him enough to kill him," Ciara abruptly explained.

What did you give him though?! And what brought about her suddenly wanting to leave the Arnaud Guild? Ferris swallowed her words before she could utter them. Yes, they'd tried escaping when they were children, and yes, she'd leveraged her loyalty when she'd argued with Tobius about Castellar replacing him one day. She didn't have a way to argue there. Despite that though, whatever brought them to the guild and however hard they needed to work, the people there had given them every comfort they'd dreamed of since their parents had died: Good food, good company, and a warm bed.

After everything they’d been through in the past, their futures were now secure. Ferris wasn’t about to let Ciara toss all of that away, especially if she was only doing it because she thought it was for her sake. First, she had to clear up one misunderstanding. Setting the bowl back down, Ferris stepped carefully over to her sister as if she were trying to soothe a frightened animal.

“I’m not unhappy,” she said, and she meant it. “We’ve gotten everything we’ve wanted, haven’t we? All I wanted in the first place was for you to grow up safe.” 

Ferris placed her hands on the other girl’s shoulders. While Ciara didn’t brush off her touch this time, her features twisted into a strangled expression.

Ferris tried to remind her of all the things they’d be giving up if they left. “You like studying as a mage, don’t you? Even if we joined another guild, I doubt many others will have the same kind of laboratory and resources that Arnaud’s has. What about our friends? Percy, Iva, Gwen, Gourdita. You’d miss them and the rest of the Boroughs, right? If we took off, you couldn’t grow the herbs you like in the garden, or eat at Blue Moon’s, or play cards with Gwen anymore.”

There was one other horrible thought that bothered her. While they ran to who knows where, Castellar would be trapped in the cottage with no one to tend to him or the lizard. It was unlikely that anyone else would visit the house if help came at all. The fire in the hearth would go out. Any bandits that they failed to stop might break in, or the neighbors might attack the pair after finding out what happened to Eluwedd. It was as good as leaving them for dead.

She allowed Ciara to tag along on their mission knowing she might have to gain real combat experience. If push came to shove, Ferris wanted her to be able to defend herself. She did not want this for her little sister. This was too inexcusable an act and too dreadful a burden to carry for the rest of her life.

“Look, I’m not mad. Just tell me what you gave him, ok? We can fix this.”

Ferris wasn’t prepared for the outburst that followed. “What does any of that matter if you’re always the one sacrificing yourself?!” Ciara snapped. Fury growing, she harshly pointed in the skeleton’s direction. “And the only reason anyone from the guild found out about us in the first place was because of him!”

Because of the nature of her ability, Ferris had no choice but to keep her silence over the years. She could never tell Ciara that she’d died. Even now, if she tried to explain the full, unedited truth to her sister, it would only feed the girl’s outrage.

Thanks to that, it seemed that Ciara had drawn some of her own conclusions about what Ferris was going through. What she didn’t understand—what she could never understand—was that while Castellar may have been guilty of trying to steal them away at his father’s command, someone from Arnaud’s would’ve come for them nonetheless. Ferris couldn’t tell her just how many mages and other high-ranked figures would’ve hunted them down to the ends of the earth for her power to turn back time, or the terrifying lengths they would go to in order to get it.    

“You think I don’t pay attention?” Ciara seethed as Ferris struggled to answer her, “You two fight all the time! When Castellar tried to kidnap us, he barely got a slap on the wrist; he constantly talks down to you; Tobius puts you two together like it’s a punishment; and you go with him somewhere and then come back bleeding! Why would you want to heal him?!”

Again, Ferris couldn’t come up with any kind of answer that her sister would accept. Instead, she shifted her grip around the other’s forearms and squeezed, her voice softening further, repeating, “Please, Ciara. Please tell me.”

The girl held her tongue for a long while, caught between Ferris’ insistence and her own stubborn resentment. Only once it was clear that Ferris would not give in to her half-thought up plan did she relent.

She hadn’t used an ordinary poison. Among the wide variety of magical flora that grew within Ebott’s lands, there were a few that were parasitic—leeching magic not just from their surroundings, but also from other lifeforms. When a human mage ingested these, they might have difficulty casting spells for a short period, but rarely suffered physical symptoms. For a monster, it could feel like drinking a barrel of ocean water and the effects could be fatal.

Ciara had given the skeleton so tiny a dose that his situation was far from grave. Ferris slipped a piece of monster candy past his teeth and waited for his body’s magic reserves to balance themselves out on their own. Needing a moment to herself, her little sister walked outside of the cottage. Watching her lean against the building from the window, making sure that she didn’t wander far, Ferris didn’t stop her.

The seer felt as if the argument had aged her by ten years. When was the last time they’d fought so seriously?

She wasn’t spared a single moment to relax. Castellar’s eyes were open, and he seemed to have been awake for a while. He looked at Ferris with a weary, yet alert and expectant gaze.

How much had he heard? What were they supposed to do now? Even if they could play it off as an accident, there was no way Ciara would get off lightly for poisoning the son of a noble. Ferris couldn’t simply take the blame herself either.

No, she could fix this! She’d failed to find a save point anywhere close-by and she hadn’t tried the spell that Valda taught her, but this was too important to worry about where or when she’d end up. If she could just go only a few moments back in time, she could prevent this mess from ever happening. Ciara’s hands would remain unstained and Castellar would never know.

The skeleton captured her wrist, yanking her out of her panicked stream of thought. He barely lifted his head with a grunt and then settled back down, “I won’t say anything.”

Ferris’ eyes narrowed. There was too much animosity between them for her to believe a thing he said. She tried to tear herself free only for Castellar’s grip to tighten. His hardened stare wasn’t the look of a man desperate to save his own life or seek revenge. It didn’t beg for her trust: It demanded it.

“No one needs to know.”

Strangely though, his words did calm her down and allow her to examine their situation again. It would be at least several more days before they made their way back to the guild. By then, the poison would’ve left his system. There would be no evidence to what happened except his word against theirs. Unless Ciara planned to make another attempt on his life, Castellar also didn’t have a reason to snitch. There was nothing for him to gain out of it other than punishing the two sisters—instead, his silence would be a favor that Ferris owed him.

She turned her head and scowled, bristling at the idea.

“Even if I did tell anyone, this isn’t something that Tobius would punish Ciara harshly for,” he continued, “If anything, he’d likely view it as no real harm, no foul.”

“Tobius can’t afford to anger your father and his allies,” the young woman spat.

“He can’t afford to upset you either. You’re too important to lose for petty reasons.”

Petty reasons… To think both of their lives could be traded so cheaply.

Castellar didn’t let go of her wrist for a long while. They stopped talking and Ferris went back to stewing in her own thoughts. Having been confronted over it, she tried to sort out her how she felt about her own future: What it truly meant for her to take Valda’s place and spend the rest of her life in the Boroughs.

The Boroughs and Arnaud’s had become her new home. That confession was simple enough. The small community felt like a haven against the turmoil that shook the rest of Ebott. It was a place she wanted to protect. To do that though, she had to be a mediator. Her every action would be judged, her every choice would matter, because she would have to serve as a leading example to the peace the Boroughs fought to maintain. As the one who inherited the power to change fate, she was responsible for those caught in its hold. Because she always had the opportunity to erase her mistakes, they could not be forgiven. Those daunting roles were ones she’d never wanted.

And what if Castellar did take over as guildmaster? Would she be happy then? Was she content with a future full of arguments and worries, forever balancing her neutrality as an Arnaud mage against her personal grievances with him?

Did she hate Castellar as much as she thought? Thinking about it, she didn’t have to give him the candy. He was strong enough that he could’ve toughed out the pain until the poison left his system—and it would have served him right too, after blaming her the way he did for Toriel’s drunken disappearance. Ciara was right to ask: Why did she want to heal him?

Occasionally, in the strange visions that meshed with her dreams, she saw their doppelgangers. What an odd pair they were… Half the time, it was as if the concept of betrayal had never entered their minds. Sometimes, she saw a free-spirit in her other self, with Castellar’s chasing her as she ran down hillsides and climbed trees. Sometimes, she saw their roles reversed, with her doppelganger dressed in the finery of a lady and Castellar’s smiling on bended knee. Whatever their circumstance, they were always together. Almost always, they were satisfied in one another’s company: For that, they disgusted and troubled her.

Ferris knew that the true future that awaited her was not a sunny one paved with flowers. It was work, and struggle, and constant doubt. What she didn’t know was if it would all be worth it.  

Chapter 32

Eventually, their luck did turn around. A couple days after Eluwedd’s death, another band of travelers passed through who were also on their way to Elmspyre. The three mages joined them, offering protection in exchange for taking the lizard—who had, at last, showed signs of improvement even though he never regained full consciousness while he was with them—in their wagon. Arriving at the city, they sent him off to recent proper treatment and submitted their overdue report for delivery.

Elmspyre was a town of steam and stone. Nestled in one of, if not the lowest area across the Two Kingdoms, it sat over a geothermal channel lined with numerous underground vents. While plant-life flourished just beyond its borders in the summer, only a handful of magical plants were capable of growing within the town limits. Much of the earth was hard and dry, and the air was thick with the smell of sulfur.  Nevertheless, the monsters there had turned the otherwise inhospitable terrain into a dense community.  

The trio’s time in Elmspyre was short. Ciara was fiercely uncomfortable being someplace with so many fire monsters, and Castellar wanted to limit the chance of a run-in with any anti-human agitators. The sisters wore jester masks the entire time they were there.

Other than that, the rest of their mission was generally uneventful. They learned that Elmspyre was still suffering from the Conflagration’s actions, but there was no evidence of a strong resurgence. Despite the town’s placement along a main road, the Conflagration had scared away trade, which led to deeper poverty and resentment cycling back to even more attacks and theft. The local authorities were trying to crack down on these incidents as much as they could, but they were fairly new to power and few in number compared to the ever-rising gangs. Truly, it was a case of crime breeding crime.

Given how much of the town’s reputation had collapsed since the Conflagration’s period of influence, it was little wonder why they didn’t receive more outside help. After some negotiating, it was agreed that the Arnaud Guild would petition the Royal Guard for assistance and encourage Elmspyre’s neighbors to increase their own efforts against the bandits. It was the best they could do this far into the Monster Kingdom.       

A rather lackluster end to such a chaotic job... Ferris thought. Eluwedd’s crime was likely just coincidence, or perhaps she’d only been taking advantage of an already poor situation. It didn’t feel like they’d done much of anything to stop the core problem. Still, they did get to try one of the local specialties before they left, so the trip wasn't completely wasted. 

They arrived back in the Boroughs around sunset. Needing to return the horse she'd borrowed, Ciara was the first to excuse herself. She did so without a word, not so much as glancing back over her shoulder to in a silent goodbye. It wasn't that she was angry; things were just awkward, and Ferris was certain that things would go back to normal between them if they just out this storm. After all, the concept of easily forgiven offenses was a luxury between family.

The same could not be said for Castellar and herself. Any true anger between them had burned out since the incident, but there was still tension. Ferris couldn't help but wonder if the skeleton might go back on his word, and what it would mean for Ciara even if she wasn't exactly punished—because surely poisoning both a noble and a leader of the guild couldn't go ignored. 

The pair marched to the stables to put away their own horses, one in front of the other. The young woman was treating her steed to some oats when Castellar called out to her from behind, "Might we talk?" 

Did she have a choice? If he planned on using what happened to demand a favor, then she hoped that he didn't have the audacity to ask that they 'let one mishap go in exchange for another' or anything of the like. She turned around to show that she was listening. 

Castellar had made a full recovery since the poisoning. Ferris knew that he would, but it was a testament to his talent that he was able to rebound so quickly after swallowing a dangerous plant and taking an axe to the back. One would've at least expected several days of nonstop work and travel to have worn him out. If he was the least bit tired, he didn't show it. 

What he did struggle with was finding his words. He took a breath and his jaw went slack, as if to begin, then closed his mouth and flickered his gaze away from her seconds before staring again. His hesitance annoyed her, but not any more than it would've had he given her some eloquent speech. It wasn't like him—somehow, she was irritated with everything about this distant, hesitant version of him—but the fact that he wasn't prepared for whatever would slip from his lips made him seem a bit more honest.

"There’s no use being delicate about the facts, so I won’t be," he began, “I tricked you, and for that, I will never have your complete trust—just as your impulsive nature and absurd power means that you will never have mine. However, that doesn’t mean I think of you as some kind of villain or demon. To me, you’re just a fool of a girl.”

“Do you see now? What you’re capable of—it’s like playing God.”

“Of course, there’s no way that’s actually true. Who would refer to anyone so stupid and childish as a god? The more time I’m forced to spend with you, the more I see that you’re only a plain and extremely vexing girl.” 

Why did he have to remind her of that? It wasn’t even a real memory, not in their current history. Ferris’ mouth drew into a bitter grin, “Is this really your way of smoothing things over?”

Castellar visibly bristled, then persisted, “What I mean is that it’s senseless that we need to work together one moment and then ignore each other in the next.”

“I agree. So, return to your family or tell the guildmaster that there’s no reason to keep teaming us up.”

“Damn it! I’m not trying to talk to you as Tobius’ successor!” She tried to leave, but the skeleton blocked her path. He swallowed his own irritation. “I'm trying to talk to you as someone who respects you as an equal. A companion." 

"And I already told you that the only thing I want from your companionship is for you to stay good and well away from me when we're not on the job."

"Then excuse my shamelessness." 

He closed the gap between them. Soon, the two were barely a little over a breath's width apart. Ferris crossed her arms together and her eyes narrowed: Castellar stared down at her, his gaze having steeled. 

"Even if we can't trust each other, we both know we can rely on each other when trouble appears. I'm certain Tobius put us together not just because of our separate roles in the guild, but because he saw how well we worked in tandem even as children," he continued, "As for me... I admit, I'm glad to have you at my side. You're stubborn and reckless, but you're a good person, Ferris. You always cherish the simplest pleasures the world has to offer —and, shameless though it may be, I want you in mine.”

There was no hollow apology; no flattery, promises, or bribes spoken to win her pardon and restore a false sense of peace. There were only blunt facts and a confession that left the seer dumbfounded.    

“I miss talking with you, so don’t snub me at every opportunity. I won’t ask for more than that.”

Their relationship had never been anything outside of what others demanded: A hunter and his failed mark, according to Castellar’s father; two students who had to get along, according to their masters, a human and a monster from the unified Boroughs, according to the Two Kingdoms.  If there was ever a time where they had merely been a boy and a girl—arguing their way across the vast wilderness beneath Ebott, secretly taking comfort in their quieter moments—then those days no different from her most ridiculous of visions.

So, perhaps it was a flawed dependency that kept the two them orbiting around each other against their better judgements. Maybe Ferris was the only source of normalcy Castellar had, just as she once imagined he’d been for her those five years ago.

Ferris sighed through her nose.

“Fight me.”

Her abrupt request stunned him. “What?”

“Fight me,” she repeated in an unwavering tone, “No tricks, no spells, just fists. I won’t have anything to do with you if you can’t manage that much.”

“I’m not fighting you.”

“I won’t be satisfied if I can’t punch you just once.”

Castellar looked at Ferris as if he believed she’d half lost her mind. Seeing how adamant she was, however, he placed a hand to his skull and muttered an insult under his breath. After a moment of inner debate, he gave in.

The pair left the stables and headed to the back of the guild compound, where the archery range stood. It was a little away from the building and partially hidden by a grove of trees. If someone were to gaze out into the night through the windows, the two wouldn’t be seen.

“Let’s not drag this out,” Castellar grumbled, “And I hope you don’t expect me to stand still. I was trained for combat. Favoring magic doesn’t mean I’m incapable of fighting without it—”

Unfortunately, Ferris complied with his wishes. He’d barely finished his last sentence when she threw a sharp jab aimed for his head. He bobbed to avoid it, raising his arms to defend himself against the next swing. Astonished by the immediate start, he didn’t consider Ferris’ own experience fighting for her and Ciara’s lives on the streets.

Nor her willingness to fight dirty. She swung her foot in a low kick, striking Castellar in the shin. From there, what might’ve been a swift exchange of a few blows turned into an all-out brawl. The skeleton retaliated by grappling Ferris at the waist to hurl her backwards.

She jabbed her elbow into his face at the last second, causing them both to go toppling. Neither let up as they picked themselves off of the icy earth, each ready with another attack. Ferris’ knuckles grazed Castellar’s cheek while his embedded themselves into her lower ribcage. Practically roaring through her teeth, she followed through with an uppercut that struck him under the chin. He counted by snatching her by the tunic and tossing her sideways.

Ferris’ momentary loss of balance gave him yet another opening. He attempted to hook her next only for her to snake her arm ahead of his, block the punch, and drive her own into the center of his chest. Castellar used the forward momentum to slam his skull into hears.

Every individual strike hurt, but resulted in little more than a fraction of a drop in their HP. Neither of them fought with everything they had—and only some minor scuffs and bruises were to be expected by the end of the match. Nevertheless, the fight dragged on for far longer than either of them meant for it to. The pair went from punching, to grappling, to wrestling each other on the ground. Only one thing ultimately stopped them:

“Bark!”

A chill deeper than the fallen snow coursed through them. They looked up and spotted two familiar figures at the edge of the grove. Tobius’ canine familiar blended in with the wintry landscape, watching them with content. Standing next to the dog, the guildmaster himself was seething behind a terrifyingly bright grin.

---

“Must I assign a watch to you both to keep you in line?!”

Castellar and Ferris now sat in the guildmaster’s office—not on any of the seats pressed against the wall, but on their knees with their arms held high. They were not to let them down unless told otherwise—a punishment that neither of them had suffered since the early days of Ferris’ apprenticeship. Tobius was not the only one present to scold them. Whether they’d already been in meeting or were called there, the guild’s remaining leaders—Lamont, Avalbanche, Crococus, Hystrangea, and Camlet—all looked on in a semi-circle as the berating continued.

“You’re not children anymore!” he shouted, “You’re both supposed to be an example to others. What were you thinking?!”

“We apologize, guildmaster,” said Castellar in a soft voice while giving Ferris a hard, sidelong glance. Ferris mumbled out the same words, but stared at the floor with puffed cheeks.

“Are you? Because despite my instructions, you two can’t seem to help yourselves. It’s like watching a pair of feral cats fight over scraps in an alley!”

Crococus wore a darker expression that the one Tobius did. Hystrangea looked concerned. Meanwhile, Avalbanche, Camlet, and Lamont seemed to be enjoying the show to varying degrees. Monty burst into a fit of full-bellied laughter.

“This has been a long time coming though, hasn’t it?” he chortled out when he could catch his breath, “Sometimes, a proper tussle can do a lot of good between kids!”

Crococus gave him a frown of disapproval, “Do not encourage them…”

“I’m only saying that it’s not like they did any real harm. Better they get it all out and brawl now than go for each other’s throats when the nobs are watching.”

The guildmaster seemed to consider this, looking between the two young mages a second time in quiet scrutiny. His face was unreadable for the most part, but the fire in his eyes did die down a bit—as though he picked up on a subtle change in the eternal tension that hung over the pair.

“I’ll have Dom work you both like mad starting first thing in the morning,” he told them, “So, get some rest while you can.”

He ordered Castellar to hang back to give a report on the mission as the group dispersed. A large hand thumped Ferris in the back as Monty walked past her with a smile. Avalbanshee waited for her at the door with a look that asked what on earth had happened this time.

All things considered though, they’d gotten off easy. Knowing Tobius meant his words, Ferris headed straight for bed.

Chapter 33

Months passed. The harshness of winter melted to spring and with it came all of the joys and troubles of the season. Repairs had to made, trees pruned, and fields plowed. The warmer weather tempted every kind of crook to stir chaos, who were then firmly reminded why the Boroughs was not a place to trifle with. There were the traditional rites and celebrations, with ribbons and garlands hanging from rooftops and the fields painted with brightly-colored wildflowers.

Camlet was able to finish his play, although he changed it to a more comedic story. It was performed on a holiday in front of half the Boroughs, its setting unchanged, yet the main character’s personalities rewritten to match the antics of two certain someones. Ferris and Castellar had sat the in the audience with calm faces, ignoring the humorous glances and stifled laughter directed their way.

No one saw Camlet anywhere for two weeks after that. All anyone could assume was that he had hidden himself in one of the neighboring villages.

Even when he returned, it wasn’t long before the fabric monster vanished again, along with his hired troupe. He intended to show off the play in some of the more populated regions along the Two Kingdoms’ borders, gauging its reception with the hopes of finding patrons. Secretly, he’d also been given the mission of checking public sentiment after the ‘Song Incident.’ Blaze’s group had done the best they could to counter the piece and spread their version of it far and wide; however, while their song was well-received, it had the disadvantage of playing catch-up. It was a subtle battle and it was hard to say who or what would turn the tide.

Meanwhile, Castellar had to leave to visit his family for the first time in years and prepare for the Monster King and Queen’s wedding. Tobius himself escorted him—likely with the intention of giving a final warning to Castellar’s father—and promised to return to the guild as swiftly as could.

That left Ferris to deal with her own preparations alone. Her route had been planned in-advance and she intended to wear one of Madame Valda’s nicer robes on the day of the ceremony. She was in-charge of the guild’s wedding gift, which needed to be covered in a strong, protective spell for the long trip to the Monster Capitol. One of the guild’s students let her know when it arrived. She stepped out of the front of the building, surprised by the crowd that awaited her.

Iva’s uncle was a travelling merchant with connections to Ebott’s ports in the West, including Percy’s family, so it wasn’t a shock to see that the couple had torn themselves away from their duties to greet him. The rest of the merchant’s small entourage was busy trying to pitch a quick sale to the handful of curious bystanders lingering about—which, again, wasn’t unusual. What was unusual was Gwen, Avalbanshee, Hystrangea, and Ciara seemingly waiting for the young seer in a cluster by the caravan.

Adjusting her hold on the baby in her arms, Iva waved her over, “Ferris, the gift’s here!”

“I can see that,” she answered hesitantly, pushing herself away from the guild’s doors, “What are the rest of you doing out here?”

“I ordered something else and they all wanted a look.”

There was a hint of mischief in her tone. Although their eyes sparkled with a similar gleam, the others were able to control their expressions. Only Ciara struggled, biting her lower lip to hide her excitement. They had definitely plotted something…

Checking the Dreemurrs’ gift took priority. Ferris was handed an ornate box containing multiple ceramic pieces. They were made of an unknown white material with foreign designs. Although, she didn’t know what it was made of, it looked expensive.

“It’s called porcelain,” explained the orange mage with a nod in her husband’s direction, “Tobius asked about dishes, so his mother suggested it.”

She thought she remembered something about Percy’s mother being from another land. Well, Ferris knew nothing about luxury goods, so she’d have to trust Iva’s family’s judgement. She only wished that the guildmaster had picked something a little less fragile. The idea of lugging it across the Monster Kingdom was nerve-wracking and she could only imagine how the dainty cups would look in King Asgore’s and Lady Toriel’s large hands.

Hystrangea carefully closed the lid and took the box from her, “I’ll handle the protection spell. I’ll show you how to reverse it before tonight.”

By then, both Ciara and Gwen were almost bouncing with anticipation. Giving their son—Vano—to Percy, Iva stepped disappeared inside of the caravan and returned a moment later with a dark turquoise dress. Its outer layer was fitted with vestments suited to a mage, and burgundy ribbons accented the sleeves where its inner layer of white fabric puffed out around the elbows. Ferris gaped, baffled, while the others waited for her reaction.

Touching as it was, the surprise felt like even more of a burden than caring for the wedding gift did. While she wasn’t sure how much the material might’ve cost, the dye couldn’t have been cheap. “Tell me you didn’t—”

“We all chipped in,” Avalbanshee stopped her before she could say the wrong thing, “It wasn’t much between the lot of us, and Tobius paid the bulk for it anyway once he found out. Valda’s old robes would be fine anywhere else, but not for a royal wedding. They’re dated, and you’re going to represent the guild. You need to make a good impression.”

“We picked the style, but the girls snuck around and got your measurements,” added Iva, pushing the dress into Ferris’ arms.

Between the ice elemental’s reasoning and the desperate looks that Gwen and Ciara were giving her, it was impossible to turn it down. The only choice Ferris had was to gratefully accept the present with a smile and a knotted stomach. Ciara grinned back with a kind of bittersweetness as Ferris held the dress tighter, seemingly glad to have done something helpful for her older sister after their disastrous confrontation on the way to Elmspyre.

"Are you going to put it on?" asked Gwen eagerly. 

Reluctantly, Ferris went back inside to do so. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd worn a dress. She'd cut her hair and started wearing boy's clothes as a way to rebel against her aunt before she and Ciara ran from her. She'd gotten used to breeches and tights thanks both to that awful period and to her apprenticeship. They were practical, easier to move around in. Since then, although she'd taken Madame Valda's place, Ferris never thought that the long, layered robes that matched her station really suited her. Until now, no one at Arnaud's pressured her much over what she wore anyway.

She slipped the dress over her shoulders and looked down: Ankle-high boots; long hair tied to one side; clothes meant for a nobler, gentler young lady. Ferris could hardly recognize herself. It would've been better if it was a simple design—like something she might've worn in another life, had her parents survived.   

The bold colors and soft finery really didn't suit her... 

If Auntie could see me now, she'd try to sell me off in a heartbeat, she thought wryly. Still, she did feel a little happy when she saw Ciara beaming at her return. A leader of Arnaud's or not, the dress was a thoughtful present that she would have to wear with pride.  

"I wish I could go to the either of the capitols someday," said Gwen. 

Avalbanshee ruffled her hair, "No, you don't. Cities that large are crowded and can have a bad smell. And I can only imagine how a meek girl like you could get lost." 

"You're only saying that because you've already been to the Monster Capitol. I think it sounds exciting!"

"Callumont isn't a place that's easy for a human to navigate," the ice elemental told her apprentice. At the same time, she glanced over to Ferris, "It's the most heavily fortified part of the Monster Kingdom. Puzzle masters change out their designs regularly and you won't be able to access certain places without some knowledge of magic. Not everyone's the friendly sort either."

Ferris had an idea of what to expect. The towns she'd visited so far had given her enough experience with puzzles, and the Human Capitol of Auread wasn't any better in terms of its human-monster relations. King Asgore gave his word that she'd be safe, but promises could only go so far. There were bound to be people unhappy to see a human—and a powerful mage at that—wandering around freely. She'd likely be confined to Dreemurr Castle in all but name until it was time to leave. Thankfully, she didn't care about exploring the city as much as she wanted this trial to be over with.

Avalbanshee concluded her cautionary advice more directly, “You really should be careful while you’re there, Ferris. You never know when someone might start a fight for the sake of one.”

The way she talked hinted to the seer that the Head of the Cyan Mages was speaking from experience. Before Ferris could question her about it though, Ciara was pushing her back toward the guild yet again to remove the dress so she wouldn’t dirty it before she had a chance to where it anywhere.

She took it off just as quickly as she’d put it on, arriving back outside for the third time, but hiding herself by the doors for a short while to watch the others from afar. Avalbanshee had excused herself to rest in the shade. Hystrangea looked at an assortment of colorful vials on display while Gwen and Ciara had moved to the front of the caravan to warn a group of younger children not to mess with the horses. Percy and Iva resumed showing off their baby to her uncle and his companions.

She had to preform well, for all of their sakes.

With everyone distracted, Ferris turned her focus to the save point hovering nearby. Oddly enough, her LV hadn’t changed since the mission to Hunter’s Hollow. Madame Valda had tried explaining the reason for those cursed letters and numbers a long time ago:

“Scholars from the Monster Kingdom were the first to attach names to these symbols. EXP, your Execution Points, serve as a permanent calculation of the lives you have taken. LV, your Level of Violence, indicates your ability to continue to harm others. I cannot say why they exist. Perhaps it’s so we can better judge those who may have ill-intent, or so we mortals don’t forget our own sins so easily. Do not ignore what your soul is trying to tell you should you see those numbers rise.”

Those were her words, but Ferris could never make full sense of them. Even Valda confessed that, to her, it too seemed to be too basic a metric for the complex manners in which it was tallied. Every battle Ferris faced only confirmed that. That didn’t mean it was completely without value, but it did make her wonder how or why each person came to reach those numbers.

When Ferris had reached LV. 2, she’d fought off a group of kidnappers she’d already failed to escape several rounds before. The only reason she was able to preserve her shaken sanity after coming to terms with what she’d done was because the alternative had been to endlessly suffer at their hands. She came to accept that there had been no choice. When she reached LV. 3, she’d plowed her away through Lord Weaver’s spider underlings without a second thought. Yet now, when she’d taken down a threat that rattled her almost as much as the first time she’d drawn blood, there was still that ‘3’ hovering by her name.

Who or what determined the amount of EXP obtained with each life slain? Was it an individual’s strength, their innocence, or maybe the numbers that haunted their own conscience? Did a person’s LV deserve to be a mark of judgement, or did it better serve as warning? How useful were those numbers when they and the world’s perception of them were so easy to manipulate?    

Chapter 34

If she felt even the slightest bit nervous about the trip to the Monster Capitol, Ferris didn't get much of a chance to think about it. The company that the guildmaster had sent her off with kept her plenty distracted.

First, there was a traveling merchant named Carter, the same vehicular monster she'd seen with Castellar back when they'd first met. Never would she have thought that the two had any kind of association beyond a momentary transaction, but Carter actually passed through the Boroughs quite often to bring supplies and transport mages across the Two Kingdoms when needed. The fact that he looked like a normal, wooden cart—aside from the large, if partially hidden moustache beneath the driver's seat—allowed him to go relatively unnoticed in areas that were hostile to monsters.  

Ferris had her suspicions about him at first, but eventually accepted that Carter knew nothing about the skeleton's true mission when they'd travelled to find her all those years ago. She once asked him where he'd taken the other young mages that had also been kidnapped only for him to answer that he'd carried them off to Lonkeld, as promised. Both Castellar and Tobius vouched for him, so she didn't press for further proof than that. What'd she'd come to realize was that the merchant had a 'no questions asked' approach to his business dealings. He knew the people of Arnaud's Guild wouldn't drag him into trouble and that was all he cared about: Whatever they did after he ferried them about wasn't his concern.  

They were joined by Casmara and Maskma, a ghost and tall, lava-like blob of a monster. Casmara instructed many of the guild's younger recruits in basic lessons on magic and monster culture. Her family also ran a large farm not far from the capitol, and had apparently taken a hefty order in preparation for the wedding celebrations. Maskma tagged along to help. Unlike Casmara, he wasn't a member of the guild and had a quiet personality, so Ferris didn't know him very well. 

The last two members of their travelling party were Blaze and Sil. The other half of their band of minstrels had already left for the Monster Capitol, including the fire monster's familiar. When Ferris questioned why they hadn't gone together, Blaze answered with a shrug, "We're making easy money. Carter pays us as guards and to help deliver some of his wares, my familiar teleports the bulk of the inventory, and we'll regroup later to take on another job."  

"It sounds more like they could run you out of the job," she nodded to the living vehicle, recalling her and Castellar's instantaneous journey beneath Mt. Ebott. 

"If they knew what they were doing, maybe," grunted Carter, "It really is a win-win though. There's only so much I can carry and so many places I can go in one trip. If we're headed the same way, it all works out."

Yes, the young woman could only imagine the pretty piece of coin he was making on this singular journey. A royal wedding was something the entire Monster Kingdom would be celebrating. The festivities would attract more commerce in turn. Ferris didn't know what Casmara and Maskma had paid him for a travelling fee, but even though she herself had chosen to take her horse, Tobius had likely paid Carter well for handling the Dreemurr's wedding gift. 

They'd been on the road for a few days now with little to no stops in-between. At their current pace, they would reach the capitol's outer walls within four hours. They'd run into several other travelers along the way, so many that it seemed like they were all on some great pilgrimage rather than a party. The crimson mage couldn't fully understand the draw, since it wasn't as if all of them could play a part in the main service. She vaguely remembered the wedding for the lord's eldest son back in Mollendale. There was music and a feast, and the entire town had acted as witnesses in front of the church; however, her family had stood so far back within the crowd that they'd barely heard the exchange of vows. It made the actual ceremony feel more like an obligation than something they were truly a part of. 

"A wedding this big is rare enough as is," Blaze explained, "nevermind a wedding between two Boss Monsters. What's a once in a generation event for most of us could be a once every-one-or-two-centuries event for them. The celebrations have to be massive, to say the least." 

Casmara leaned forward in her seat, staring hard at Ferris, "You do remember how to dance, don't you? If you embarrass yourself in front of Their Majesties, you'll be embarrassing me and the rest of the guild too, you know!" 

"I'm prepared." She fought the urge not to roll her eyes. 

The dance lessons had been one of the least enjoyable parts of her studies, particularly because of how redundant she thought they were and how she and Castellar had almost always been paired together for them.  If Madame Valda hadn't groomed her to take her place, Ferris doubted that their teachers would've pushed those lessons so strongly. If she was going to face nobles though, she needed to know how to act among them. 

The Human Kingdom shared many traditional dances with Ebott's neighbors. The Monster Kingdom's dances often took more liberties, allowing room for adjustments between the various species that participated in them. Ferris had danced plenty at the Borough's own festivals, but this would be the first time she'd have to do so at such a formal affair. She didn't know what enemies would possibly be eying her during the event. Admittedly, the risk of giving them any flaw to criticize did bother her a bit. 

A red and yellow shape sped past them along the road, alerting them with a honking sound. It took a moment for the group to process what they saw: Tobius' familiar riding in some kind of tiny, closed carriage made of a brightly-colored material that none of them recognized. He stopped for nothing, vanishing from view just as abruptly as he'd appeared.

"Was that dog driving or was that another monster?"

"Don't look at me," Carter huffed, "That wasn't any of my cousins..." 

The deeper they ventured through the Monster Kingdom, the more complex the puzzles that blocked their way became. Taking a short cut and travelling through a narrow strip with two rock walls on either side, they were forced to stop in front of a large pile of boulders. It would've looked like a natural landslide were it not for the high platform and connecting ladder to their right. Sil stood up, summoning her magic along her spine to sprout a pair of fiery blue wings and glide to the top. 

"Are the wings really necessary?" Ferris mumbled over to Blaze.

"No, but she likes the presentation. Let her feel special." 

"I heard that!" 

The seer looked up in the direction of the miffed shout, "Check for clues. There’s got to be some way around.”

The group watched the boulders rumble in-place for several minutes before Ferris climbed up to see what the delay was. From this position, she could just barely make out a set of overlapping trap doors beneath the boulders. There was a set of cranks that the other mage took turns adjusting, each click signaling the shift of the doors below. The issue was figuring out the order of the turns so that all of the doors would open.  

The pair made their separate observations and talked through how to solve the puzzle. Eventually, they managed to get the boulders to drop past the doors one or two at a time until the road was clear. The clicking noise intensified, a signal that they didn’t have long to wait before the puzzle reset itself. They hurried on their way.

It wasn’t the most dangerous or irritating puzzle they’d come across. There was one closer to the border that had been maze-like in structure, almost turning them completely around. Another had lined their path with loaded arrows, and a third was damaged before they reached it—a mess of ripped apart, toxic-smelling blooms scattered across the earth. With as many travelers as there were right now, Ferris wondered just how often the puzzles needed to be checked.

“You’re going straight to the castle, aren’t you?” Blaze asked as Ferris jumped back onto her horse, “We’ll have to split up before then. Will you be fine getting there?”

Ferris patted the side pouch where she kept her invitation, “Someone from the royal guard is supposed to take me through the city. I’ll be fine.”

“I could go with you,” Sil offered.

Blaze nudged her in the arm, “You don’t know the way either. You just want to play tourist.”

Ferris watched the pair bicker over their own plans, a bit disappointed that they would have to part ways. It wasn’t for a desire for company—the minstrels could be an exhausting bunch—but she’d hoped to once more have a chance to talk with the fox. The seer never did get to question the otherworldly creature about her visions and the possibility of her future student.

However, the more she thought about it, the less likely that possibility seemed. The clothes the child wore, the tools the child used, and the environments the child existed in were so vastly different than anything Ferris knew. Considering that, the only explanation that seemed reasonable was that her visions were of a distant future. She assumed that, by the time they came to be, she herself would have long perished.

That did raise another concern: Why was she seeing them? Ferris didn’t particularly care about what happened five hundred, one hundred, or even ten years after she was gone. There wasn’t anything she was consciously dreading, so what force summoned those visions in the first place? If there was a good answer for that, she didn’t think there was going to be an easy way to get it.

“Guys…”

Sometime later, Maskma’s soft voice caught their attention. Far ahead of them, they noticed a number of figures standing by the road.

“Masks on,” Carter ordered, although he didn’t have to. Both humans pulled up their cloaks and placed their jester masks over their faces.

It was a sentry station. No less than four soldiers guarded it. One of them—a mossy monster with thick tusks and a hunched back—motioned for the group to stop. There was a fierce intensity to the sentries’ gazes. The jester disguises were likely a familiar trick to them.

All of the guild’s mages showed off their talismans for identification, and Ferris was ready to show them her personal invitation as well if needed. The talismans were enough, however, the young woman didn’t fail to notice that the sentries’ stares were equally as ferocious when they landed on the two fire monsters. Blaze seemed to fall under the most scrutiny out of any of them. The soldiers said little to nothing, but their eyes remained on the travelling party for a long while as the latter of the two groups rode on.

It made sense if fire monsters in general were facing some hardships for what the Conflagration did. They succeeded in making human-monster relations worse—and relations with other monsters worse for themselves as well. Casmara and Maskma were headed for a village just outside of the capitol, so Ferris believed they would be fine. Meanwhile, she silently wished the band of minstrels luck. Surely people would be too swept up in the excitement of the festivities to cause trouble with them though, and they were more than capable of holding their own.

Another hour later, the Monster Capitol of Callumont appeared on the horizon. It was a magnificent city that wound up in a small mountain in an almost spiraling formation. Many of its walls were built into the mountain itself, its outermost barricade easily standing fifteen meters high. A light, midday fog hung over the city and the passing of a flock of doves added to the elegant view of the surrounding landscape. Facing them atop the mountain’s widest ridge was Dreemurr Castle, a marvel of architecture in itself.

The young woman took a deep breath, glad that no one could see her do so behind the mask. From this moment onward, she would need to act perfectly in a way befitting her role: Pacifistic, yet resolute in the face of provocation and fearless against those who once thought to make her their tool.

Chapter 35

The days leading up to the wedding were fairly uneventful. King Asgore and Lady Toriel were both so busy with the preparations that Ferris didn't see either of them aside from a brief greeting when she'd first arrived at the castle. She was told to make herself comfortable; however, with nothing to do and no one to talk to, that mostly meant aimlessly wandering the halls for something to cure her boredom while ignoring the odd stares fired her way. 

Few monsters actually knew who she was beyond the talisman she kept hung around her neck. A few of their gazes were foreboding, but most of those monsters were simply fascinated—as if she were some strange peacock strutting about. Ferris wasn't too sure how many of them had ever seen a human in their lives. In any case, just as she was promised, no one dared to bother her so long as she remained within the castle grounds. 

The royal guardsmen were among those who looked at her with the toughest scrutiny. Things might've stayed that way if it weren't for Gerson's hearty introduction. With him and a few rounds on the training field breaking the ice, the turtle and his fellow knights ended up being the main source of company she had. They often traded stories or played boardgames when there was time to spare amid all of the bustle.  

The nobles who regarded her with open suspicion weren't so easy to approach. Many of them were Boss Monsters themselves, so their imposing stature combined with their higher status kept her from walking up to them even if she wanted to. The most Ferris ever exchanged with them was a minute or two of small talk, be it out of duty or social politeness. It was every bit as stifling as she'd imagined it, even after other humans arrived. 

The castle had a large cathedral attached to it. It was a work of art, its tall ceiling held up by equally mountainous pillars, windows detailed in intricate stained-glass designs, and flowery trellises decorating the outdoor walkways. Much of its layout reminded her of the golden hall that sometimes appeared in her visions. As was typical for the nobility, the ceremony would be held outside, on the wide courtyard balcony for the all the people of the capitol to see. Several meters below, a massive crowd had already formed, with even more people pouring in from the surrounding streets or standing atop of nearby buildings for a decent view. The air roared with excited chatter.  

Ferris resisted the urge to tug at her dress. Most of the guests were aimlessly milling about, waiting for their cue to get into position before the royal couple arrived. She tried to find faces that she knew among them: 

She spotted Castellar almost immediately upon his arrival, but he'd vanished into the crowd just as quickly. He was with two other skeletons, who Ferris believed to be his older sisters. He usually dressed with some degree of refinement, but she was still surprised by the rich and formal attire he wore now. While she'd gotten accustomed to seeing him in subdued, yet tasteful blacks and blues over the past years, he'd gone back to wearing a deep burgundy. His doublet had an ornately patterned vest and wide sleeves with a feathered, felt hat to match it. For a rare change, he didn't wear gloves, but instead leather wrist guards, allowing her to see the skeletal details of his hands. His shoulder cape, pants and any other details to the ensemble were such a dark shade of forest green that she almost didn't notice the color at all.  

There were a few nobles that she didn't need to have met to recognize them. Lady Toriel's parents, Lord Dion and Lady Manuelle, both had the same elegant and gentle air as their daughter. She thought she saw some of Tobius' relatives, however, they seemed a bit less than eager to be in attendance. And then there was— 

"Ferris!" 

There was no time for her to remove herself before a pair of familiar figures walked up to her. Prince Denver Fanya was dressed in an indigo, knee-length surcoat with rich embroidery and golden accents. A heavy cloak hung across his shoulders from a decorative chain and a jewel-studded pendant with the emblem of the Human Kingdom dangling from his neck. His sister, Mordera, was dressed to match him in a flowing gown, her long hair woven back in a snood headdress. The siblings had the same dark hair, pale skin, and amber eyes, the prince three years older than Ferris and the princess younger than her by two years. Even so, Princess Mordera carried herself with more poise, calmly walking several paces behind the crown prince as he jogged over to the seer from across the courtyard. 

"Madame Ferris," he corrected himself as he slowed to a halt in front of her, a flicker of impish mirth in his eyes, "It's so good to see you again!"  

Ferris hid back her frustration with a polite grin, bowing at them. Of course she should've known that someone from the Fanya family would be here too. Prince Denver's loud voice had attracted an audience, pushing her to draw a clear line for all to see between the royal siblings and herself. She kept her greeting short, "Good day, Your Highnesses." 

Before she straightened herself back up, Ferris noticed that the prince wore two rings on one hand: A signet and—curiously enough—an opal. Some mages embedded them into tools and, every now and then, you'd hear of some people carrying them as a kind of healing charm, but many more held grim superstitions against the stone. She thought it was bold of him to wear it as a piece of jewelry without the excuse of being a mage himself, but it was also the kind of brazenness she'd come to expect from him.  

Again, his sister couldn't have been any more of the opposite. "Well met," was all the princess said, her lips barely turned up in a civil smile. Ferris had never been on bad terms with Princess Mordera, but she couldn't say they'd ever been on good terms either. They just never interacted very much. When they'd met as children, she'd always thought the other girl was a little sour and definitely on the spoiled side. Since then, she'd grown into a young lady who often carried herself with a stone-faced composure, ever reading the room. They had a respectable distance between them, which Ferris was grateful for. 

"How are you faring?" The crown prince wasn't going to let her walk away with a simple exchange of greetings. "I imagine it's been somewhat difficult adjusting to your new station, amongst everything else—not that I have anything less than the highest confidence in your talents, of course."      

"Thankfully, Madame Valda was a good teacher," she answered humbly, "I may be lacking compared to her, but she did all she could to prepare me for the role." 

"Yes, again, I'm so sorry for your loss. Madame Valda was..." he chuffed a bit, "a resolute woman. She certainly gave our father more than his share of witticisms and wise advice." 

At the mention of the king, Ferris couldn't keep herself from asking, "How is His Majesty?" 

It was all mostly rumors, but there was word that the ruler of the Human Kingdom had grown ill and he was in his twilight years. Ebott's Two Kingdoms were so intertwined that it was expected for members of both royal families to attend events of this scale. Although she didn't think the king would've had to have come himself, so long as someone else filled his spot, the guildmaster had also made a few comments during meetings that hinted to King Gerard's declining health. 

Not that it was anything his son or daughter would openly confess to. "As stern a man as always." Speaking a bit softer, Prince Denver took a step closer and leaned toward her, "I wanted to give you a gift, to congratulate you on your promotion, if you would receive it." 

"I'm afraid that it would be improper, Your Highness, for an Arnaud mage to receive personal gifts from someone of your status. Good as your intentions might be, some may still see it as favoritism or bribery. You should know that." 

Ferris meant to say something along those lines, but someone else stole them before she could. Feeling a sudden presence from behind, Ferris glanced over her shoulder to see Castellar walk up to them. He stopped at her side and bowed to the pair, though his mouth was drawn in an impassive line that was neither pleasant nor offensive.

Prince Denver smiled at him, “It’s a pleasure to see you as well, Castellar. I still haven’t forgotten our last match at the archery range. Perhaps we can find the time to go a few rounds before duty calls us our separate ways.”

“Perhaps.” Ferris felt a boney hand take her own. “However, I do believe the service with begin in a few moments. It may be best that we all move to our positions and return to this discussion later.”

The princess touched her brother on the arm, then looked between the two mages, “I agree. We shouldn’t dawdle. Madame Seer, Sir Castellar, we’ll see you this evening.”

The two pairs separated. The skeleton lifted Ferris’ hand in an escorting manner, guiding her through the interior of the cathedral and up a tall stairwell—to stand atop an external wall with the rest of Ebott’s leaders and a handful of other important guests. The prince and princess moved in the opposite direction to stand on the other side.

“How could you let him prattle on in public like that?” Castellar grumbled in a low voice.

“I would have stopped him if you hadn’t interrupted me,” she fired back under her own breath.

“You’re no simple commoner anymore. You need to be firm.”

“To do that, I need you to trust me instead of jumping straight in.” She flicked the tip of the feather on his cap.

She felt like a piece on display, especially since they were actually a bit early. While the main focus would be on the bride and groom, the reason for her current, elevated position was to signify that the royal union was watched over by and for the benefit of all of Ebott. The Boroughs had no such tradition, but it was the same in the Human Kingdom—only with the positions switched. Thankfully, there was nothing she had to do for the ceremony except stand as a witness.

Castellar didn’t move. At first, Ferris thought that he might have more to say to her; however, he just stood rigidly in place. She was supposed to be up here, not him. He should’ve been standing beside his family! “What are you doing?”

“I’m a member of the guild and a resident of the Boroughs.” He tapped his side, where she only now noticed the talisman hanging near a pouch at his belt. “I’m right where I’m meant to be.”

The young woman’s eyes widened a bit. After Tobius revealed to them that he was considering passing on the role of guildmaster to Castellar, this was the closest that the skeleton had ever come to saying he’d take it.

The cathedral’s bells rang loudly throughout the courtyard. The massive crowd went silent. A hymn slowly rose up from the choir below.

A priest came out first. He gave a small sermon before calling for the groom to join him. When King Asgore appeared, Ferris was surprised by how simply he dressed. From her lessons, she’d heard that most royal weddings were overly lavish, the couple donning any combination of jewels, precious metals, complicated patterns, and luxury fabrics. King Asgore’s robes were made of an expensive purple silk and an open mantle of gold racamas cloth hung from his shoulders. However, the only jewelry he wore was his crown and the only pattern on the fabric was the symbol of the Monster Kingdom.

When Lady Toriel arrived, she’d chosen a similarly plainer style. Nevertheless, Ferris thought she was as beautiful as any blushing bride could hope to be. She also wore purple robes and a cape of gold racamas cloth with a long train. The Monster Kingdom’s emblem was stitched into a periwinkle blue sash hanging from her waist. A circlet of lush blooms was balanced atop her head and she carried a large bouquet of rosemary, violets, primroses, and windflowers.

There were no teasing or dramatic shows of affection like how the pair had acted when they’d visited the Boroughs that winter. King Asgore and Lady Toriel were regal, composed, yet there was a warm vacantness in their eyes—as if they’d drifted off into a world all their own. They recited their vows flawlessly while barely acknowledging the priest, grounding each other with their joined hands. The smiles on their lips were gentle, innocent, and full of pure love.

They almost seemed hesitant to separate when Asgore needed to fetch the traditional present for his bride. Ferris leaned forward a bit for a better look as he took it from a young monster and unwrapped it from a shimmering cloth.

“A book?” she whispered, baffled. It was an ornate, one-of-a-kind book, but a book nonetheless.

“It does suit,” Castellar murmured back, “Lady Toriel has always had a fondness for learning. I imagine it’s a rare grimoire.”

That was fair. Ferris didn’t imagine Toriel had much use for something like a brooch or a ring. Besides, she looked happy with the text, so nothing else really mattered.

The pair became lost in one another’s gazes yet again when it was time to seal their union with a kiss. To Ferris, the moment seemed to go on for a bit too long; their lips touching and parting before finding each other again.

The crowd exploded into cheers. The young woman flinched at chorus of loud bangs filled the sky. She looked up, seeing thousands upon thousands of magical bullets launch upward and then erupt. It was as if every monster in the entire capitol had cast their magic at once. She watched the spells burst in spectacular fountains of colors, mesmerized.

Castellar wordlessly called her attention by summoning a blue bullet into his hand. There was a strange tenderness on his face as he nodded to silently tell her that it was fine for them to participate. She poured some of her magic into her own hand, making it a bright yellow. It took less energy to cast the naturally long-range spell and she didn’t want to cause any trouble by vaulting a lone, crimson bolt into the air.

They were both caught off-guard by a sudden tune blaring from inside the cathedral. It was a sound unlike either of them had ever heard—or anyone else for that matter, judging by their confused expressions. The music seemed to ring through the air itself, powerful, but not overwhelming. They looked down, but the minstrels were silent. Even Asgore, Toriel, and the priest seemed confused.

They and a few bystanders peered into the main hall. Sitting in front of the pipe organ, playing a different key instrument that no one recognized, was a white dog. Tobius’ familiar. The melody was soothing and warm, with a bounce between notes that gave a kind of lighthearted playfulness to the piece. No one seemed to mind his presence: If anything, they seemed to take his musical gift as a sign that the mysterious canine was also blessing the happy couple. The cheers resumed.

Castellar bent low to mutter into Ferris’ ear, “Tell no one we know him.”

Chapter 36

Immediately after the ceremony ended, King Asgore and Lady Toriel left to join the wedding procession. They and a parade of guardsman would circle through the capitol before making their way back to the castle for the celebratory feast. Lady Toriel’s official coronation would be held as early as tomorrow morning, which would then be followed by even more festivities.

Until the royal couple returned, however, Ferris and the other wedding quests were left to mingle while they waited once again. She spent much of that time exchanging basic greetings and small talk: How lovely the wedding was, how the weather couldn’t have been any more perfect for the day, how happy the bride and groom seemed to be—pointless chatter that she’d rather not have been a part of. She evaded any talks of politics, just as she was taught to do. She only allowed herself to say that the Arnaud’s Guild was hopeful toward whatever future relationship they might have with the Monster Kingdom under the new union.    

While she was certain the feast would be as grand as everything else, all the young woman wanted to do in that moment was escape to the busy streets below. Instead of navigating calculated conversations on an empty stomach, she could’ve been enjoying a frothy drink in a merry pub.

The bards were also hard at work, quickly tailoring and performing their pieces. Listening to them, knowing how carefully they needed to craft their own words, made her feel a little better about her situation.

“Blessed be His Majesty
Who rose to strength in diff’culty,
Defender of the olive tree
’Tween Ebott’s peak and deepest sea.
Bless he who ended the rancor,
Man and monsters’ ties restored.
Bless him in his simple wisdom,
Long live the peaceful sage, Asgore.

“Blessed be Her Majesty,
The purest maid made gracious queen.
When fire reigned, how bold was she
To fight the flames through charity.
With tender touch, resentment quelled,
A kindly heart bade wrath dispel,
Bless the saintess of the shelters,
Long live the gentle Toriel.  

“Blessed be their unity,
Passion woven since youthful spring.
May summer’s warmth be theirs to keep
To cherish through the winters deep.
Blessed be these lovers green,
May Ebott share their harmony.
Bless the Royal House of Dreemurr,
Long live our noble Queen and King.”

She certainly wouldn’t have wanted the job of quickly writing countless versions of the same thing: Best wishes for the newlyweds and endless praise to their glory. Perhaps within hours, that tune or one similar would spread throughout the capitol and then the greater monster population. Maybe there would even be plays or puppet shows in the streets reenacting King Asgore’s and Lady Toriel’s story.

It was a familiar publicity stunt. While most noble marriages required too much negotiation to come from pure love, tales of great romances were far more palatable. However, from everything Ferris had witnessed, there was some heavy measure of truth to this one love story. She genuinely wished them well.

She fetched some water to hold her over until the feast could start. As she took her time sipping it, giving herself a break from the chatter, Gerson approached her. He was dressed in his guard uniform, but with a thick, decorative cloak fastened across one shoulder.  

"Shouldn't you be in the parade?" High-ranking as he was, with equally as legendary a reputation as Castellar’s father, it didn't make sense for him not to be by the royal couple's side.

"I was asked to watch over the guests. Make sure that no fights break out," Gerson shrugged with his arms behind his back, then mumbled in the young woman's ear, "Besides, this gives me a break from those lovebirds."

She couldn't resist teasing him, "Are you really not in the romantic spirit or are you just upset with your own solitary life?"

"Ha! I’ll have you know that I am happily unmarried for the time being. There's been so much love in the air over the past several months that I could choke on it!" he guffawed, "And how is Arnaud's seer?"

"Gratefully bored." Ferris resisted the urge to look over her shoulder. "No one's tried to pick any fights with me, at least."

"Oh, I don't think you're one of the ones I have to worry about."

The turtle answered her curious look with an amused one of his own and a guiding wave of his hand. She followed him out along the outer wall that stood above the training yard. Below was Castellar and Prince Denver facing twin archery targets. They'd already fired multiple rounds and seemed to be evenly matched. Ferris' brow twitched. She wasn't sure whose idea it was to take up their bows, but she couldn't believe they were doing this right now! Luckily, there were a number of guards keeping watch and someone had to have fetched the targets for them in the first place, so the castle staff didn't appear to mind. It was a miracle they'd managed to keep their audacious, little competition in relative privacy.  

"Tell me: Who do you think is going to win?" asked Gerson, enjoying the spectacle more than he should have.

Ferris didn't dignify the question with a response. There were very few times that she, Castellar, and the prince had all three met together. During those times and whenever Denver's name had been brought up in discussions, she'd never gotten the sense that Castellar felt any ill will toward him: There was only a cautious neutrality, no different than how most nobles were regarded by the guild. Maybe he'd get slightly annoyed by the prince's immature antics, but no more than she herself did. The skeleton was acting particularly irritated today, although whether it was because Denver had actually done something prior to when she saw him or from the added stress of the day's events was merely a guess.

They spoke to one another between turns. About what, again, she didn’t know. From an outside perspective, the two looked like they were firing carelessly as they became more engrossed in their conversation than the match itself. Nevertheless, both of them still landed expert shot after expert shot.    

They were nearing their final round when something shattered through Castellar’s usual, stone-faced expression. It was only for a second, but it was long enough for Ferris to notice his gaze switch from annoyance to a raw, visceral anger. His aim slipped as he fought to hide the crack in his eternally steady facade, his next arrow plunging too far to the left. Prince Denver laughed, seeming to tease the skeleton over it.

Ferris couldn't say anything about the crown prince's talent with a bow. She'd never seen him use one before now. Meanwhile, despite the fact that Castellar didn't regularly use long range spells per se, he was still one of the guild’s best marksmen. She'd personally watched him shoot a spy's messenger bird out of the air from forty meters. He often tied with Monty when the yellow mage made a sport of their archery training, and she'd never seen him lose against anyone else.  

"Where's his head at?" she mumbled under her breath. 

Gerson also seemed surprised, "No idea. I’ve watched him shoot since he could barely pull back his bow and even I've rarely seen him miss his mark." 

A few short moments later, the pair of archers noticed their audience. Prince Denver beamed, waving his hand over his head. Ferris gave him a small, reluctant wave back before leveling a concerned gaze over at the skeleton. However, by then, Castellar had regained his composure. She wasn’t sure if he would tell her what they talked about if she asked, or if she’d even get the opportunity to.   

She didn’t get to spend as much time with Gerson as she would’ve liked. A helmeted guardsman jogged up to him from behind. Ferris watched as Gerson’s eyes darkened when the soldier pulled him aside to whisper something for his ears only. He put on a collected smile just as quickly as he turned to face the young woman once more. 

"Something's come up and I need to step out for a bit," was all he explained, keeping up his cheerful tone, "Save me a dance though, won't you? Your teacher was always so stuffy at these kinds of events. I want to see how you handle yourself." 

"Think you might need back-up?" She wasn't sure if it was her place to offer, but if it was an issue she could help with, she wanted to. In the very least, it was better than standing around and twiddling her thumbs.

"No, it's nothing we can't handle. Just enjoy yourself!"

Whether it was a problem that Gerson could handle or not, Ferris had a distinct impression it was a matter far larger than what the turtle was making it out to be. Again though, if he wouldn't open up about it, then it probably wasn't her place to pry. This was a case where snooping would only do her more harm than good.

Not quite finished with her water yet, she continued to watch the match. In contrast to the skeleton’s serious demeaner, the crown prince very obviously treated it as nothing more than lighthearted play. Not seeing the princess anywhere below, Ferris briefly wondered if Mordera had approved of the game or if he’d simply abandoned her side. 

Ebott may very well be doomed... It wasn't the right line of thought to be having on such a happy occasion, but the unrestrained personalities of both King Asgore and Prince Denver continued to worry her. All it would take was one charismatic and corrupt retainer to lead them down the wrong course of action. It didn't bode well for the upcoming summit either. She and Castellar would have their work cut out for them.

---

That evening’s festivities were a fitting reward for the long hours that had dragged on prior. Although the feast’s seating arrangement matched tradition, everyone was given a comfortable cushion to sit on. There was no end to the various dishes offered, the cooks having paid careful attention to the menu so that it would suit the tastes of both human and monster guests. There were several meats and exotic fare, and more fresh fruits and pastries than Ferris had ever seen at once in her life—and doubted that she ever would again. It greatly tempted her to sneak into the kitchens and see what she might take home later.

This time, Castellar sat with his family, so she was on her own. She was positioned across from Prince Denver and Princess Mordera as a guest of honor. It was hard for her to say which might’ve been worse: This or getting placed among people she didn’t know who would either snub or try to provoke something out of her. Fortunately, Denver behaved and Mordera was as civil as ever, although Ferris mostly pinned the good conversation on Asgore and Toriel’s efforts to keep it flowing as the perfect hosts.

Afterward, everyone was given a short break as the gifts were brought out. Handling the box of porcelain dishes herself, the seer quietly waited for her turn to approach the two Dreemurrs seated on their thrones. The box was passed from her hands, to a servant who double-checked its contents, to King Asgore, and back to the servant again as it was set aside with the rest of the wedding presents.  

“This is wonderful!” the King of Monsters complimented. He kept his response mannerly, but there was a genuine twinkle in his eye, “Thank you, and send our thanks to the rest of the Arnaud Guild as well.”  

Lady Toriel was a little less interested in the porcelain, but did seem to like the design. Anyone who stuck close to watch the exchange either showed curiosity toward the foreign good or looked away in disappointment over the seer not messing up. All around, the gift was a great success.

Ferris gave them a small bow, “Of course, Your Majesties. Congratulations on your happy day.”

Before, she could let the next guest come forward, the queen stopped her. “Madame Ferris, if you’ll allow it… Would you accept a shameless request of mine? I was wondering if you might give us one of your visions, just as a small blessing.”

Ferris hadn’t taken a step: She’d expected this, not because of her gift, but because it was just standard practice. It would’ve been too brazen of her to offer up a vision to the Dreemurrs herself, just as it would’ve seemed a little odd of them not to ask for one. If those standing nearby weren’t curious before, they were now.

Ferris grinned with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. “It would be an honor.”

Given their approval, she stepped forward and knelt down to take one of the king and queen’s hands in her own. The young seer took a deep, soft breath, trying to ignore the eyes drilling into her back. She had to focus. She had to get this right, and say the right words no matter what she saw in their futures.

“It will only take a moment,” she said, stalling for a few seconds, “Is there anything in particular you want me to look out for?”

Asgore and Toriel looked at each other. They hadn’t seemed to have thought it over. Soon enough, the king nodded to his wife to ask whatever she wished. Lady Toriel blushed a bit, looked away, and then smiled at the other young woman.

“Could you tell us… anything about our future family?”

It was a reasonable request to make, given how hard it was for Boss Monsters to have children. Depending on Ferris’ answer, this was also a chance to quiet anyone who might’ve been bothering the couple about succession. Even so, the pair really did look like the typical young newlyweds as those words were uttered. Toriel couldn’t shake the blush from her face and Asgore wouldn’t look at anyone directly in the eye, almost as if he wanted to melt into his throne and disappear from view.

Seeing them made Ferris relax a bit. She hid back a chuckle, “Of course, Your Majesties.”

Chapter 37

It took a while for Ferris to find a suitable thread among the countless cords stretched before her. She'd never seen such an infinitely frayed and tangled mess, but then again, she'd never tried reading the future of people so long-lived. The closest she'd ever come to this sort of trial was if Garrick or Hystrangea requested her aid with anyone who came to them suffering from some unknown, gradual ailment.  

Tell me what I want... It actually helped that she had two sets of threads to follow instead of one. It meant she only had to pay attention to those that ran parallel or were tightly intertwined with the those of the other half. Even then, however, the bundle that remained was immense.  

There would've been no other choice but to go through them one by one were it not for a particularly taut, vibrant cord that almost seemed to call out to her. It was rare for one to be so strong at such a length, because the stronger the thread, the more likely it was to lead to fates that were not easily altered. Again, her experience with patients was the best example. Just like how Madame Valda's passing was inevitable due to her age, certain illnesses could not be cured: The longer symptoms went ignored, the shorter and stronger the cords were.  

She didn’t think this one had anything to do with the Monster King and Queen’s joint health. It did make her curious over what was so resistant to change in their futures, but it wasn't something she could afford to investigate on short notice or without a clear reason. Ferris only examined the thread more closely because she thought it would give her the answers she was currently searching for the easiest. 

Her efforts brought her to a strange, windowless room drenched in a pale palette. She wasn't familiar with this sort of architecture—not that it seemed foreign, just... too polished. Not only was the floor made from wooden boards, there was a decorative trim around the base of the wall and some source of light fashioned into the ceiling that didn’t seem to be fire. Perhaps it was a magical instrument that hadn’t been invented yet. In any case, whoever lived here had to come from some wealth. Surely, this room belonged to a Dreemurr or some other noble.

There were many toys and on the walls were children’s drawings made with brightly-colored pigments. A large, detailed wool rug covered the floor and two beds were pushed to either side of the wide space. Before Ferris had the chance to explore it further, a figure half her size popped its head through the door.

Sure enough, it was a young boss monster. It was hard for her to guess the boy’s exact age, but he was still in stripes, wearing a yellow and green patterned tunic that was suspiciously similar to the pink and blue one she’d seen the child that frequented her visions wear. In fact, the yellow and green shirt was familiar to her also, although she couldn’t quiet remember where she’d seen it at the moment. There was no denying he was Asgore’s and Toriel’s child: He had his mother’s soft features and the friendly twinkle in his father’s eyes.

His mouth was curled upward in barely concealed mirth. Quietly shutting the door behind him, he ran over to one of the beds and fetched a cylinder of rolled paper and a tiny box out from under it. He put something inside before Ferris could see what it was and began wrapping it up using an odd pair of scissors and a kind of sticky material he pulled out next.

His work was cut short, however, by the sound of approaching footsteps. They were light and quick, likely from a person around his age. The boy sprung up and rushed to the door, holding it shut before the newcomer could enter.

“No, Chara! You can’t come in here right now!”

There a muffled response and an even more fervent jiggle of the handle from the other side.

“Because I’m making something. Just give me a few minutes, ok?”

That brought up the question of what he was making, which the boy tried to dodge in the bout of lighthearted arguing that followed.

“It’s a surprise! You have to wait!” It was clear he wasn’t used to holding his ground, but the young boss monster did not give up. He kept his hands firmly wrapped around the handle and leaned his body back as a counterweight to keep the door shut. After another minute, the person on the opposite side relented and went away. He sighed, risked peering out into the hall to make sure they’d gone, then returned to his task.

The whole interaction reminded Ferris of her own sibling spats. As a small girl, there was a point where she couldn’t take two steps back without bumping into Ciara after her little sister started walking. Ciara always stuck close to her side, a memory she could look fondly on now even if it hadn’t always been so adorable back then.

She opened her eyes. The chamber had grown quieter since the seer began glimpsing into the Dreemurrs’ futures, with a handful more curious guests waiting for her to explain what she saw.

“Although I can’t say for sure how soon they might arrive, I saw a young boy and heard a second child,” she said.  There was little in her vision worth withholding.  She wasn’t going to make the mistake of trying to guess the year they were born, both for accuracy’s sake and to avoid giving any of Asgore’s or Toriel’s potential enemies an opening to strike. “It sounded like they’re going to be close, and I could tell by the state of the bedroom that they will be loved very much.”

Although she hadn’t gone into much detail, both King Asgore and Lady Toriel seemed pleased with her response. They looked at her and one another with relief, intrigue, and anticipation. The queen might’ve prodded her for more information, but there were others still waiting to greet them. Ferris bowed once again and then tried to blend into the crowd.

She really didn’t care for the bystanders that hovered after her. Human or monster, the guests that had earlier kept their distance or otherwise only spoke to her out of obligation now approached her out of fascination—either trying to dig for more details themselves, request that she make another premonition, or test her as if she were some common con artist.

Thankfully, Gerson invited her to dance before they tried to turn her into part of the evening’s entertainment. She took his hand gratefully and joined him with two rows of other dancers in the center of the floor.

“Aren’t you a knight in turtle armor!”

“You looked like you could use the rescue.”

The first few dances were relatively basic, giving her a chance to find her rhythm. Even knowing the shocking speed that Gerson utilized in battle, she was still surprised by how well he picked up on the faster-paced steps despite his uniform and the bulky shell at his back. What was almost as surprising was that she found herself keeping up better than she had expected, especially since she was only really used to dancing with someone closer to her own size.

Gradually, other guests would join in on the dancing and partners changed. Most of the ones that Ferris was paired with were more than willing to stick to a comfortable silence. Only Prince Denver wanted to engage in any steady conversation, earning them both some disapproving glances by others in their row. Needless to say, Ferris was very happy when the time came to trade off again.

She adjusted to the dances so well that she eventually allowed her thoughts to drift. While had started to enjoy the party, the young woman also wondered how long she had to wait before she could politely retire for the night. It had been a long day and the next would be equally as daunting. She still wanted a frothy brew, and to climb into the nice bed she’d been offered during her stay for a well-earned rest.

Moreover, she wanted to investigate the cause of the odd string of visions that she kept getting. It was slim, but was there someway that they were all connected? They certainly seemed to at least occur at the same general point in the future. Her latest vision had reignited her interest. She brought along the book that Madame Valda had given her. Maybe there was a similar case in the records of their predecessors.

A hostile aura snapped her out of her musings. A skeletal hand had found her own. Ferris looked up at her new dance partner and met a harsh set of eye sockets. The skeleton was a much older man with faintly yellowing bones—perhaps in his forties or fifties, if she had to assume his age. He was a bit taller than Castellar, with sharp angles along his jawline and a ‘M’ shape to his nostrils. In contrast to her guildmate’s more painted-on features, his teeth were fairly pronounced. He wore a formal, dark aubergine tunic under a cape and pieces of light armor.

He needed no introduction. Even having never been given so much as a vague description of what he looked like, Ferris knew that this was Fraktur.

It was hard to pin exactly how she felt, facing the powerful marquis that had ordered her capture. Words like hatred or nervousness were too passionate and too specific. She didn’t know him enough to hate him. She had grown and endured too much to fear him. In fact, she felt a bit of secondhand triumph, given the extent of what the Guildmaster and King Asgore had gone through to ensure that Fraktur never pulled another stunt like that again.

He didn’t exactly hide what he felt toward her though: Unreasonable, unrelenting contempt. He didn’t say anything or show it on his face, but in the bitterness of his gaze and the way he let his strength slip—practically crushing her hand rather than holding it.

Ferris simply beamed at him, mimicking one of Asgore’s or Denver’s overly cheery expressions. Go ahead. Get mad. It wasn't as if she planned on breaking bread with him either.

She was pleased that her nonchalance seemed to frustrate him even more. 

The tense moment came and passed. After one more song, the seer figured that that was as good a moment as any to excuse herself for a bit. The evening was too young for her to leave the party just yet, but surely no one would say anything if she took a short walk.  

One lap to and from the cathedral: That's all she would take. The trip over was a lot more peaceful than earlier in the day. No one had stripped away the wedding decorations yet, and a rich perfume hung in the air from the many flowers set along her path. The balcony was empty. Below, the rest of Callumont also continued to celebrate, its citizens packing the streets in a vibrant bustle of activity and the twilight sky lit up with countless spells.  

She could still hear music. Ferris followed it into the main hall. Tobius' familiar was still there, playing a new piece that was just as lovely as the last. It was like something out of a pleasant, distant dream, or like the unravelling of some great tale—although Ferris picked up a note of sadness to it as well. The canine didn't react to her approach and the young woman didn't want to interrupt the beautiful sound. She didn't ask questions, leaning against one of the pews as she continued to listen.  

The peace did not last long. "He's still here?" 

Castellar's exasperated voice echoed through the chamber. He walked in the same way Ferris had entered, placing a hand on his hip as he stopped beside her. 

"Still here, still playing," she sighed through her nose, "Did you follow me?"

"I didn't know where you went. Things are going well—you shouldn't be wandering off now." 

"I wasn't 'wandering off.' I was going to come straight back." She pursed her lips. Straightening her stance, she looked him over. She found he couldn't get used to him wearing such fancy clothes any more than she could get used to wearing them herself. "You and that goofy hat..." 

As she reached to snatch it, the skeleton caught her by the wrist. He said nothing, merely giving her a disapproving frown. It didn't keep, however. His eyes briefly flickered to her hand before he pulled it away from himself without letting go. 

"A few of your steps were off." 

Ferris almost balked at the out-of-the-blue critique. "No, they weren't!" 

"They were." He closed what little gap there was between them. "I suppose a moment away won't hurt us. We can practice a bit before anyone catches on that we've left." 

Where was this 'we' coming from? He'd stood by her for the ceremony and then disappeared. And she thought she was carrying herself perfectly well on her own! Was he serious?    

Apparently so. His grip on her hand shifted so that the flat of her palm was pressed against his own. Beginning on his count, their feet moved to a steady rhythm in time with the familiar's music. Ferris went along with it, if only to prove Castellar wrong. She'd already lost count of how many partners she'd danced with: After all those grueling sessions during their apprenticeships, she could move with him flawlessly.

It didn't end with one song. A few steps became a few dozen. One dance flowed into another. They were late realizing when the dog finally stopped playing, jumping out of his seat and running out to the balcony as dusk turned to night. The eruptions of magic outside shimmered through the cathedral's stained-glass windows, sending vivid swaths of color rippling across the hall. There was silence, and then— 

"Castellar?"   

A distant, searching voice called for the skeleton. A kind of wince etched across his brow and he wore a somewhat troubled look as he pulled himself away, eying the entrance.

"I'll leave first," he offered, "Wait a minute before you return to the festivities. I’m not solely acting as one of the guild’s representatives tonight. It’s difficult to say what rumors might come if we’re seen alone here.”

He was right. The more complex nature of his situation wouldn’t matter. Things could get messy if someone went around saying that a noble of the Monster Kingdom and a mage of Arnaud’s were conspiring behind everyone’s backs. She watched him go, again wondering what the point was for him to follow her to begin with.

Ferris could now understand why her master chose not to travel far from the Boroughs very often—nevermind either of the Two Kingdoms’ capitols. Having to trapeze through every conversation or self-monitor every interaction was draining.

Chapter 38

Aside from a few minor skirmishes, the ceremonies concluded without trouble—or, at least, if there was trouble, Ferris didn’t run into any personally. Queen Toriel’s coronation went off without a hitch, followed by another night of feasting and dancing. To no surprise, the capital’s streets were just as packed and full of festive energy as when the seer first arrived and would likely stay so for the next two or three weeks at least.

Ferris stayed for only the first week of celebrations. That was plenty long enough for her to perform her role as the guild’s representative and being stuck in the castle for all that time with little to do was making her stir crazy. Besides, even if the Boroughs didn’t strictly fall under either of the Two Kingdom’s authorities, that didn’t mean its people wouldn’t share in the celebrations in their own way. Ferris was curious about what kind of merrymaking was going on without her back home.   

Gerson offered to escort her out of the capital safely. Although she didn’t have the chance to explore Callumont like she hoped, he made a point of keeping to a slow pace and explaining anything that caught her eye. They passed the outer walls and through the surrounding countryside with ease.

“It’s not too late to change your mind and stick around a while longer,” he offered as they neared the city borders.

“And lose face after I already said goodbye?” she countered with a small smirk, “Thank you, really, but I ought to head back.”

“Well, I can’t keep you here, but just keep your wits about you on your way.”

Here, his words were less jovial. He didn’t need to go into detail of what she should be wary of for her to sense the gravity of his warning. She’d had to wear her mask until they exited the city gates. She’d have to put it back on as soon as they parted ways. He’d advised her to take a less-traveled road, but that didn’t guarantee her safety—nor the Monster Kingdom’s freedom from blame on the off-chance that something did happen to her.

This time, the look she gave him was one of reassurance, “I’ll try to stick to your directions.” 

“You better stick to my directions!” He only looked half-relieved. 

The dangers of traveling alone weren't really the issue so much as the possibility of conflict itself. However, Ferris hoped that, by now, anyone dumb enough to try to start a fight with her would be took caught up in the kingdom-wide revelry to bother. She certainly didn't plan on stopping anywhere for long or making a nuisance of herself. The road she was taking was further toward the West than the one she’d travelled in from. It was also much narrower and crossed over rougher terrain. For a lone, skilled rider though, it was fine. She could make her way up to Warbler’s Creek and follow it home just as she and Castellar had done when they’d returned from Hunter’s Hollow. All things considered, she was confident that she could handle the short journey. 

"So, I suppose the next time we'll be seeing each other is at the Meeting of Olives." 

Ferris' eyes widened a bit at that. "Has the Monster Kingdom already picked its representatives?"

Gerson wagged a finger at her in a secretive gesture. "I can't say. I was just asked to tag along as a bit of extra muscle."

The young woman snorted. His reputation as the Hammer of Justice extended beyond the shadow of Mt. Ebott. There was no guessing how many battles he'd fought, protecting the Two Kingdoms from foreign armies and other invaders. Their neighbors were already wary enough of mages, monsters, and magic. She could only imagine how the ambassadors would react to meeting such a war titan face-to-face. 

Then again, that only went to show how important this summit was. If the likes of King Asgore was willing to send the other representatives a loud, clear message by including Gerson in the Monster Kingdom's party, and only as part of the guard at that... Perhaps this year's Meeting was bigger than the guildmaster had realized. 

The Two Kingdoms and the Boroughs would face the other nations on a united front, but that didn't mean they shared all of their information with one another and backroom deals were to be expected. In other words, the guild had no idea who else would be in attendance or what either kingdom's primary goal for the Meeting was just yet. Early discussions were almost all they could count on to prepare themselves. Surely though, both the Human and Monster Kingdom had sent out their own spies to get the upper hand in the negotiations. What did they know that the Arnaud Guild didn't? 

Gerson wasn't foolish enough to let such a tidbit slip out by mistake. Ferris wasn't foolish enough to ignore it, even if they couldn’t discuss matters openly. She pocketed the clue for later and replied, "I hope you'll give me some company off duty then. It will be a relief to know at least one other person there." 

"Is Castellar not enough company? I thought you'd prefer him over a hard-shell soldier like me."

"I'll pick your hard shell over his numb skull any day."

The last few minutes of their time together ended faster than Ferris would’ve liked. The feeling of absence wasn’t as familiar to her as it was in the past, so it caught her off guard how much she wanted to keep talking. Maybe it was partly because Gerson had acted as close to a chaperone as she might’ve had during her stay at the castle, or because the reality of the lonely road ahead dawned more heavily on her with each passing second. In any case, they parted ways with an amiable goodbye.

There were two guardsmen that Gerson entrusted with escorting her down the road for the next hour or so. Unfortunately, they were not among the knights that he had already introduced her to. The two were silent as stone—a poor trade-off—and Ferris was just as happy to be relieved of their awkward company as they were to leave hers.

After that, alone with her thoughts, Ferris came to reflect once more on her most recent prophecy. She'd spent several nights meditating over what familiar cord the future Prince of Monsters had struck with her and at last remembered another human child that haunted her dreams—if more rarely than the one she suspected might one day inherit her power. To think I’d feel so troubled over a shirt, she mocked herself. They’d worn the same sort of clothes right down to their perfectly matched colors. A coincidence to be sure, but not one she had much of a reason to be bothered by, especially compared to how much the young humans looked like her sister and each other.

No, not just Ciara. The seer grimaced. During her stay at Dreemurr Castle, by happenstance, she’d come across a mirror for the first time in her life. Oh, how it had terrified her, tricking her into thinking that her visions had somehow broken into the waking world. Prior to that, she’d only ever seen her own reflection in blurred images in the water. Seeing herself, there was no denying a connection. She still thought that the children shared her sister’s face, but she had to admit that their dark hair and the intensity behind their crimson eyes more closely resembled her own features.

To think that my burden might someday return to one of our blood.  While still an assumption, it would also partially explain why visions of those children came to her so easily: Ferris herself was an anchor to them. Maybe they weren’t her direct descendants, maybe they were Ciara’s; Given that she saw neither of themselves in those same visions though, it all but confirmed that Ferris was seeing a future beyond their own lifespans.

Since the children wore similar attire to a prince, Ferris had to assume they would fare well in their time. Still, the poisoned cup that was her ability was not one she wished for either of them to inherit. In her heart, she apologized for it.

At least one of you might hope to live a normal life. For all the seer’s talent, she saw rarely more than what were already scraps of that one’s future, as though something were blocking her from prying further. The painful fall that child had taken worried her, and Ferris sometimes saw visions of a household that resembled her and Ciara's days with their aunt, but she also saw warm and beautiful ones.

She was more relieved by that little uncertainty than she was of anything else. Like how a fish could live nowhere else but in the water, how the sun could rise only in the East, or how mortals were destined for inevitable partings, some fates could not be changed. Yet people, in all their bewildering choices, had ways of challenging that. Mankind itself was a force of nature, and the world endured its unpredictable whims like any other bout of fickle weather. Heroes and villains could be forged from the same disasters. New relationships blossomed from chance meetings. A simple misspoken word, moment's delay, or stroke of luck could unravel even the strongest threads. That was why, instead of seeing the same children and the same places over and over and over, trying to peer so far ahead should've given Ferris nothing more than a mess of scenes—both the probable and the improbable, and all irrelevant to each other.  

The hours of lonely travel were spent fast in busy thought. She was still searching for some precedent. There had to be at least one record she could turn to for an explanation. 

It was midmorning on the third day of her journey home when she noticed pillars of dark smoke in the distance. It was no small fire and it was not the dry season.

 I'm sorry, Gerson. It looks like I'll have to stray from the path a bit. 

With a snap of the reins, her steed turned and cantered toward the smoke. The land rolled in steady slopes with few trees dotted across them, granting them an almost straight course. The destination was too far to go at a quick pace for long, forcing the mare to shift to an amble after a few kilometers. It took just over an hour to reach the site of the destruction. 

To Ferris' relief, whatever fire there had been was largely doused. Besides the smoke, there were only a few smoldering remains left of it from a half-ruined barn and burnt patches in a nearby field where some fight had taken place—likely caused by stray blasts of magic. There was other evidence, from the static in the air to the miniscule craters from a spray of bullets that had pierced the walls and the earth.

The barn was just one building in a small village that couldn't have housed more than eighty residents, most of which seemed to be dealing with the damages. From what Ferris could tell at a glance, all of them were monsters of various kinds and all civilians. They darted about outside, rounding up livestock, tending to the wounded, and reassuring once another after what happened.

It must’ve been a raid—occurring mere hours ago, based on state of things. The villagers were left in such confusion after the attack that they didn’t notice Ferris’ presence at first. When they finally did notice her, however, that confusion swiftly turned to fear. A crowd formed around her, the more able-bodied among them taking the front with different spells readily formed.

The seer had already fetched her guild talisman no sooner had she arrived at the village outskirts. If she truly intended to help these people, then there was no use in keeping her identity hidden. The still features of her mask would be enough cause for suspicion to some, and with all eyes on her, sooner or later, they’d realize that she was no jester monster. She took it off with one hand while displaying her talisman in the other.

Their immediate reaction—to step back, their faces contorted in bafflement, distrust, and anger—was to be expected, but the young woman gave them no time to gather themselves into a frenzy. A mob was one of the most thoughtless and dangerous beasts there was. If she did not win them over fast, she could miss her chance entirely.

“Hear me!” she shouted, just as she had witnessed many of the Boroughs’ other leaders do in moments of crisis, “I am Ferris of the Arnaud Mages Guild. I mean you no harm. Pray tell what happened here, and I shall—”

A tiny swarm of bullets in the shape of insects flew at her from the left. She repelled them with a solar disc. While she tried to redirect them away from the villagers, they still ricocheted through the air before vanishing to find some distant mark.

Her eyes landed on a roach-like monster that couldn’t have been much older than herself. His attack having failed, he visibly flinched under her gaze. Childish… Ferris hadn’t needed to call on one of her stronger spells to defend herself, but a statement needed to be made: She didn’t want trouble, but if the villagers chose to fight her, she’d willingly oblige.

“I mean you no harm,” she repeated with an edge of warning in her tone. This time, she put a bit of magic into her talisman, causing it to glow. “Now explain.”

Reluctantly, they did. Marauders had struck right before dawn, when the villagers had barely risen from their slumbers. They hadn’t suffered any fatalities, which was nothing short of a miracle, although both livestock and a some of the children were missing. They were still waiting for their search party to return.

An echnida with light red scales pushed her way through the crowd, her long tail knocking away anyone who tried to hold her back. “They took my daughter! You need to find my daughter!” She was frantic, desperate to the point of not caring whether Ferris was a human, a mage, or possibly even a devil. “Please, just bring her back to me!”

After she’d slithered forward, other worried parents followed. There was no time to waste.

Chapter 39

Since every minute counted, Ferris asked for only two other people to join her: A pair of flying insectoids that could scout things from above while she followed the marauders' tracks below. With the village's best already out searching, anyone else would just slow her down. Besides, more than needing an extra pair of eyes, what she needed was someone to race back in case something went wrong. 

Ebott was still in the muddiest part of its spring season. The criminals' trail was easy to spot. Like her, they were travelling by horse. The earlier search party had also gone this same way, only with one individual—a canine—having split from the group. They were headed in the direction of one of the larger towns Ferris had passed by the previous night before making camp. Good: There was a sentry station even closer along that path that they could run to for support.

There was a second split in the trail further along. Ferris had a bad feeling about it as soon as she saw the tracks of various cattle separate from the mess of horse tracks. She took a brief glimpse into the past, watching the phantoms of marauder’s divide themselves into two groups. The smaller, faster of the two had taken the children.

Without knowing which path to prioritize, the search party had cut their own numbers into halves. The young woman hoped that the choice wouldn’t result in innocent casualties.

She leaned forward to stroke her mare on the neck as they slowed down. The poor girl hadn’t had the chance to rest long when they got to the village and there was no telling how far ahead the kidnappers were. They couldn’t afford to move at a casual pace, but pushing the steed to her limit wasn’t an option either. She was a good, strong horse though—better than most. Ferris had no doubt that they’d catch up to their quarry.

Another hour had gone by when the terrain shifted from muddy hills to a rocky valley, forcing the seer to rely more on her visions as the trail disappeared. A single wagon accompanied by three other riders made its way along a narrow road several meters below. Carefully following them along an adjacent slope, squinting in the sunlight, Ferris recognized at least one of them as one of the criminals.

Targets in sight, the insectoids nervously sank from the sky to join her side. “What’s the plan?” asked the older, gruffer of the pair, a distrustful gleam still in his eyes.

Ferris pretended to consider their options, knowing that they wouldn’t like her answer, “We keep following them.”

“What?!”

Their outrage was palpable. Anyone’s would be, with each passing second increasing the likelihood of their loved ones getting hurt or worse. However—for lack of a better way of putting it—this particular scum knew how to move merchandise. Even if it meant keeping on their tail for days, this wasn’t something that Ferris could overlook.

“If you want to fight them by yourselves or turn back, then do it,” her words were sharp, “but I’m betting that your people aren’t the only ones they’ve taken. If we strike now, we risk losing the chance to save them.”

She could try taking one of the kidnappers alive and interrogating them, but that didn’t guarantee anything. Worst case scenario, the one they let live could end up being a low-rank goon who was just following the others and had no idea where to go.

The same bug was about to shout back at her, but reined himself in at the last second. Whatever he thought of her, at least he couldn’t bring himself to say that he didn’t care about what other victims might be at risk. Hesitating, he instead asked, “And you can promise that the kids will be safe?”

“Do you think any of them would try to fight back?”

He grimaced, “Maybe, but none of them are older than eight. They can’t fight back.”

“Then they should be fine.”

From her own experiences, most kidnappers avoided going to the extreme of killing someone. To them, it was like throwing away money. They’d only make an example of one of their captives to the others if they were confident that they’d still make a solid profit; otherwise, fear tactics usually worked well enough.  

“That means there are more of them, right?” questioned the more anxious of the pair, a moth-like monster with long antenna. “Could we even stop them? Just us?”

“Just watch.”

In the end, it was decided that someone needed to return to the village to report on the situation. If possible, they’d try to regroup later. Being the faster flyer, the first of the insectoids took off.

The morning passed into the afternoon and afternoon into evening. The moth monster returned to the sky as it darkened, making sure that they didn’t lose the criminals in the shadows. Gradually, Ferris worked her way down into the valley.

She followed them to a pit several dozen meters wide. Jagged outcrops encircled its rim, as if it were the maw of some leviathan horror. Torches were lit inside, revealing a ramshackle base of operations. Leaving her mare a safe distance away, she and the moth climbed atop one of the outcrops for a better view.

Ferris counted anywhere between twenty or thirty marauders, although she assumed there were more lurking somewhere in the poor light. Other than the captives they’d just brought in, they didn’t see many others aside from a handful of adolescents being forced to help prepare a late supper. Most of the captives were either human or strongly humanoid in appearance.

Her nervous accomplice whispered, “I thought there’d have more monsters locked up.”

“That all depends on the clients.” By saying that, the young woman earned herself a scared look from the insectoid. Not wanting to worry him further, she didn’t elaborate.

The Two Kingdoms’ underworlds had their biases one way or another. Of course, hybrids and humans with magic were favored merchandise. Both were considered rare; could be sold off to a wide range of clientele; and, since neither society accepted them entirely, there was less risk of public outcry. Trafficking conducted with Ebott’s neighbors was slightly different. There were some opposing powers that desired the talent of mages, but any magic-wielding humans sent beyond Ebott often ended up hung or burned at the stake. Meanwhile, many types of monsters found themselves treated more like exotic animals. For all their infighting though, Ebottians would stand together against a shared enemy, so the laws against those practices were enforced more strictly on the outer borders.

The captives were taken elsewhere, possibly to a main holding area. Some of the crooks began to drink. Ferris stood up, observing the scene and deciding that they’d make their move after giving their quarry a little more time to let their guard down.

Her attacks were often limited in close quarters, like when she and Castellar had fought against Lord Weaver in the tunnels beneath his castle or when they’d fought off bandits amid a thick cluster of sloping trees. In such fights, she relied heavily on her Astral Dagger. In this particular situation, with few obstacles and any bystanders kept afar, Ferris could go wild.

Once the last of the children were sent off and the crooks had nearly settled themselves in for the night, she called a solar disc the size of a wagon wheel to her waiting hand. She sent it hurdling around the right side of the pit, guiding its flight into one of the larger outcrops. Stone and dust erupted on contact with a loud boom. Shouts followed.

“Take cover for now,” she ordered. The insectoid glided back to the tree line as if he'd been waiting for her to make that call. Ferris jumped down into the heart of the camp, knocking aside anyone that happened to be standing nearby with a few, precise strikes before taking another look at the chaos. Most of the marauders were still too stunned by the sudden attack to have gathered their wits. The first blast was meant to be a distraction, but it had done even more damage than she'd hoped—burying a couple of tents and taking out some of the filth with them. A few raced to inspect where they thought the source of the attack came from. Others tried to free their pinned comrades from the rubble. She cast a rush of fire magic to add to the confusion.

"Devil eyes...!" 

The seer glanced down. A sorry-looking human with tiny scars dotting the left side of his mouth gaped at her from where he sat in the dirt. Ferris dispatched of him swiftly before he could alert those nearby to her presence.

Most of this batch of criminals looked to be human themselves. Anyone else who took immediate notice her couldn’t react fast enough to counter her assault. When they reached for their weapons, Ferris had already summoned another spell: Small, twin crescent moons hovered above the battlefield, each twinkling with a soft light and then firing off a brilliant beam of energy.  

A crimson flash of warning: An arrow launched from a crossbow. Ferris weaved out of its path, retaliating with another moonbeam. She wouldn’t be able to shield herself as easily from non-magical weapons, but then, that only mattered if her enemies could touch her. Compared to many of the opponents she’d faced in her lifetime, in her mind’s eye, these crooks were almost comically slow. They could not counter her instantly, each reload and wind-up buying her split seconds to predict where their next attack would come from. Only minutes had passed into the fight before half the marauders were struck down by her hand.

She jumped behind a mess of crates as a barrage of needle-like attacks as long as her forearm dove at her from a monster built like a spurred seed. Her cover didn’t last long. Just as she meant to fire another ray of dangerous moonlight, a golden blast of magic struck one of the crescents—throwing it off its mark. The lunar spell nearly hit its own caster before shattering to pieces.

Ferris spun on her heel to face the newcomer: It was a yellow mage that looked to be in her early twenties, her blonde, wavy hair pulled into two pigtails and a deep scar marring her neck. The latter volleyed another powerful blast. Unable to swerve out of range, the seer grabbed an already half-dead straggler by the soul and jerked him in front of herself. The act wasn’t enough to fully shield her. She struggled to maintain her footing as she was thrust back by the force of the blow. A stray piece of debris hit her in the face and blood dripped from her nose.

Several thin needles fired at her at once. Ferris failed to contain a painful yelp as two scratched her torso and a third pierced through her thigh. Capturing the spurred monster in a purple glow, she trapped him in her hourglass spell to temporarily hold him off.

She had to keep one of her arms extended as she focused on its rotation. Another marauder charged at her from her now unprotected side, his sword raised. With gritted teeth, Ferris yanked the needle out from her flesh, ducked around him, and drove it into his throat. To keep more of her enemies from surrounding her, she hurled the second moon down to the earth where it crashed in a chaotic burst.

The flash from the rupture of magic gave Ferris enough cover to vault herself into the air and behind the other mage. A hastily prepared, miniature sun formed within her free hand, she manipulated it into a flatter, more saw-like shape and sent it spiraling into the woman’s back. She then released the spurred monster from his confinement only to turn him blue and pull him forward. Blood and barbs scattered as the two enemies were thrust into one another.

Ferris jogged deeper into the camp. Her enemies were spread out now. Some were less loyal than others, abandoning their partners in crime at the sight of a lone mage taking out so many of them. There was no point in giving chase, not when freeing the captives took priority.  Nevertheless, she intended to clear the area first.

A new crescent moon cut across the battlefield, mowing down those that attempted to run after her before coming to a stop and blasting what remained of them away. Somewhere on the opposite side of the pit, a few marauders were guarding a suspiciously dug hole. Upon seeing her approach, one of them attempted to dart inside of it only to find himself riddled with bullets. The second guard was likewise taken out.

She ignored the hole for now, although she already had an idea of where it led based on the tiny footprints going into it. There was a trio of attacks from above: An arrow and a doubled splatter of acidic sludge that hissed when it touched the ground. A second archer and a slimy pair of monsters fired at her from atop a wooden tower.

The archer was easy enough to counter, the young woman firing back an attack of her own. The slimes, however, either reflected or absorbed most of what she threw at them. They suddenly collided into one another, molding themselves into a larger mass.

Thinking fast, Ferris manifested a strong sun. Its flames licked her fingertips before she catapulted it at the joined duo. Their viscid shape hardened on contact with the burning orb, leaving a dry target for her to aim for. She launched another without hesitation, the scorched wound exploding into countless fragments that dissipated into dust moments later.

The fire she’d set off earlier was steadily growing. Ferris picked off what able-bodied enemies were left before trying to douse it. Another moon was summoned. She’d never taken to ice magic—she’d never really practiced with it, not like she’d been made to learn fire magic with Iva’s brash encouragement and for her brief performance as the Scorched Magician—but her lunar strike did have a distinctly cold feel to it. Rays of chilly moonlight basked over the area, slowly draining away the heat from her earlier spell until the last of the unnatural blaze was put out.

Ferris paused, giving herself a minute to rest. She gazed around at her handiwork, waiting to see if another challenger might crawl from the wreckage of the camp. If anyone was left alive, they were trapped in the rubble.

She turned back to the hole and made her way down. A distinct, fishy smell hit her nose before she arrived in front of a chained up wooden door akin to a cellar’s. She broke the lock and stepped inside.

Around twenty small, terrified faces stared up at her from the darkness. Ferris recognized an echidna girl with pink scales sitting among a couple other familiar young monsters. Half of the children were merrow hybrids, and at the far side of the underground prison was a freckled, orange-eyed human boy standing protectively in front of a skeleton girl.

Chapter 40

Whether it was assisting her parents with their apothecary work or raising her sister, Ferris had been used to acting as something of a caretaker throughout the whole of her youth. Whether or not she was truly good at it was up for debate. Only a few people would describe her as having a gentle manner. As such, when faced with the scared, huddled forms of the children around her, the young woman found herself at a bit of a loss. 

It would've been better if there was someone closer to her own age among them, a mature adolescent that could help calm the little ones down. They must've heard the chaos outside and saw the blood and dust on her clothes. She knew their position all too well to think it'd be easy to convince them that she was here to—

"See? See?! I knew it!" A ruddy-faced human boy with crimson eyes like her own and a bruise on his cheek suddenly jumped up from the ground. He couldn't have been older than four years old. "I knew somebody was gonna come help us! I...I-I...!"

He began to shake. A moment after, a quiet hiccup bubbled from his throat. The seer slowly made her way over to the boy and patted him on the head. He looked up at her, wide-eyed. His mouth quivered despite how hard he tried to keep it in a firm line.

Ferris peered down at him with a soft grin, "Thanks for waiting."  

Hearing this, fat tears began to roll down his cheeks and his hiccups turned into a relieved wail. A handful of other small children joined him. Giving them a minute to let their emotions out, Ferris stepped back toward the entrance of the holding area. She could see the moth-like monster she'd been traveling with tentatively hovering above the remains of the camp—likely curious about the long silence that followed the fighting. He jumped as she whistled for him and then flew over.

 Seeing someone they knew put the pink echidna and her friends at ease. The insectoid practically found himself buried in tears and snot as the village children swarmed him. He tried to comfort them as best as he was able. 

Ferris observed the group a second time. It was as she'd expected: More than one village had been hit. As rare as hybrids were, the number of merrow ones didn't exactly shock her. Compared to other human-monster relations, humans and merrows tended to have a particular fascination toward one another. The mysteries of the land and sea, and the stories of merfolk and wanderlust sailors, resulted in them sharing more romantic inclinations than was common. There were only so many waterside towns that would accept such unions though. If she had to guess, they were probably from the same, secluded community. For so many of them to have been taken from their home at once, she hoped that there was something left of it. 

The other children didn't stand out to her quite as much. Humans made up the second biggest majority. Ferris didn't think there were any villages nearby with a significant population of them, so it was hard to say where all they'd been dragged from. She noticed that three or four of them had old brands on their frail bodies similar to the one her father had. They'd likely been cast out by their lords, deemed too weak or untrainable to become full-fledged mages.  

Then there was the young skeleton girl, still sitting behind the orange-eyed boy. Her features were remarkably soft for her kind: A petite, painted mouth; a tiny nasal cavity shaped like an upside-down heart; a round face and big eye sockets. At a glance, it seemed like she was cowering, but there was little fear behind her stare. There was... resolve. A refusal to show the slightest weakness no matter what fate awaited her. Almost instantly, Ferris decided that she liked this child quite a bit.   

It was too late to try to return to the village. Ferris might've attempted the trip if she were alone and she certainly didn't like the idea of sticking around when reinforcements could arrive; however, the children needed sleep and a good meal, and they needed to figure out how to move such a large group. She took a brief glimpse into the future and decided that there wasn't any trouble they risked facing that she couldn't handle if they stayed the night. 

She instructed the oldest to help her search for supplies. If they were lucky, the marauders who ran off might've left a few horses behind. As for the bodies... Ferris hoped the children could overlook them.

---

They didn't have as much to worry about as Ferris feared. Sending the insectoid ahead of them early the next morning allowed him to return with a party of villagers and soldiers already hurrying their way. Not all of them were happy to greet the seer—and more than a few of them questioned her methods as well as where she'd come from—but none could deny that she had rescued the children without a single loss.   

In the very least, they had enough decency to keep their mouths shut when it came to the young mages and hybrids. Ferris noticed one or two of them give the group scoffing looks, but they were quickly shut down by a dangerous smile from her and a glare of warning from their commanding officer.

It didn't change the fact that none of them really knew what to do with those not from the village.

"You mentioned that not all of the criminals were felled. Some escaped and some are wounded back at their camp, correct?" the captain, a somewhat hulking rabbit, pulled Ferris aside to recap on the events that had transpired, "My soldiers can deal with them. It would be useful to have a seer on our side when we give chase... but I suppose you have your own mission to tackle.”

“Yes.” Ideally, she’d hear some news about missing kids by the time she reached the border and figure out her next step from there. If all else failed, she could bring them to the Boroughs with her. Tobius might jab at her a bit for ‘bringing home a bunch of strays’ and dumping the hard work onto someone else in the guild, but he wouldn’t turn them away.

The lapine monster scrunched up his nose in thought, “If I were you, I’d go to Solaris. It’s further to the West than you probably want to go, but I can’t think of anywhere closer where you could guarantee that these little ones get the help they need.”

She considered it, trying to remember all that she’d read about the town. It was centered around one of the most fortified outposts under Ebott, its landscape said to be filled with ruins dating back to their history’s earliest civilization. It had seen countless battles before becoming a key point along one of the major trade routes connecting the Two Kingdoms.

An unexpected voice rose behind them, “That’s my hometown!”

While the other children were stretching their legs in preparation for the long ride ahead, the little skeleton girl had snuck over to them with a mute step. She had a restless energy about her, eager to take control of her situation and be an active participant of her own rescue.

Ferris had trouble getting her to speak at all the night prior. Any questions about how she was feeling or offerings to check her wounds had fallen on deaf ears. Since the girl was suddenly feeling talkative, the crimson mage decided to play along.

“Oh?” she tried not to sound too playful, “In that case, we could use a navigator. Think you can help lead the way?”

The child hesitated a bit before Ferris offered her a half-unfurled map. Whether or not she could make sense of its markings, just having some visual of the path home gave her some confidence. She nodded enthusiastically, the corners of her mouth finally lifting in a toothy, lopsided grin.

“It should take about two days to get to Solaris,” Ferris alerted her, “What’s your name, kid?”

Without looking up from the map, she replied, “Zilla.”

The simple answer fit in the last piece of a puzzle that the young woman didn’t realize she needed to solve until that very moment. She knew that name, for it was one of many that had been drilled into her during her studies and that she’d heard in passing conversations whenever Gerson visited the guild. Zilla was the name of one of Castellar’s four siblings.

She would’ve chalked it up to coincidence were it not for the fact that Solaris was part of Fraktur’s territory. No, beyond that: While the child wore a striped dress made of a relatively cheap fabric, the way she carried herself was not that of a typical peasant girl—her back too straight and her gaze too proud. Now that she knew the truth, Zilla’s resemblance to her older brother was almost uncanny. How though? How did the daughter of one of the fiercest warriors in the Monster Kingdom’s army, from one of the most secure strongholds under the mountain, end up getting kidnapped?!

And why did it have to be my problem?! Ferris masked it well, but inside, she was screaming.

No one else reacted when Zilla introduced herself. To them, she was no different from the other children. It wasn’t their fault if they couldn’t recognize her name: Unless Fraktur was pushing her along the same path he’d made Castellar walk, she was too young to have made any kind of debut into society, much less garner any reputation of her own.

Ferris could only imagine how her family was reacting to her disappearance. Or did they even know about it? She hadn’t seen Zilla at the Dreemurr’s wedding, meaning that she must’ve been left behind in Solaris. Fraktur, Castellar, and at least one of his other sisters were still in Callumont when Ferris had left. There was no guessing if the news had reached them yet.

She didn’t fancy the idea of being anywhere near the veteran skeleton when it did. Even if she wasn’t afraid of Fraktur, that didn’t mean she wanted any more trouble with him. He hated her—that much was certain—and she didn’t think bringing Zilla home was going to change that. The deadlock between them be damned, no true parent could think rationally when it came to their children’s safety. If anything, she half-anticipated that he might strike first and ask questions later the instant she waltzed into his domain with the girl.

However, none of that was the child’s fault. Ferris had waited too long to respond. As she held back a groan, Zilla looked up at the seer with innocent curiosity.    

She allowed Ferris to pick her up and set her on her mare. As Ferris hopped into the saddle, bracing the girl from behind, she mentally prepared herself for whatever conflict was to come.   

Ferris had done nothing wrong. Her ability was nothing to be apologize for. She owed Castellar’s father nothing, and perhaps she wouldn’t cross paths with him in the first place. Perhaps he was still in the monster capitol and she could just drop Zilla off in Solaris before he returned.

The rabbit captain dipped his head at her, “I’ll send some of my men to go with you. That’s the least I can do.”

Oh, good. I might need witnesses.

She intended to play dumb. She didn’t have to go anywhere near the skeletons’ personal estate. Leaving Zilla with the local guard, just like the other kids, would be enough to consider her job done.

Chapter 41

The ancient walls of Solaris extended beyond the town limits and weaved through the nearby woodlands. Despite how trees and moss fought to overtake them, they stood firm against the many years of weathering. They guided Ferris and her young charges along winding trails, past the scattered homes of foresters and the echoes of unknown structures dating at least as far back as the Bronze Age.  

The soldiers that they traveled with advised caution. They weren’t familiar with the layout of the area, and so they didn’t know what sorts of puzzles or traps were hidden around. Zilla didn’t seem to know either, boasting about the town’s proficient puzzle makers and how often they improved or changed out their creations. It wasn’t long before they stumbled upon their first clue written on a wooden sign:  

“Some challenges require a new perspective.”

Other than the sign itself, nothing immediately stood out. The strip of road they currently moved along looked the same as the rest. Sliding off her horse and passing the reins to the rider next to her to keep her mare steady, Ferris took a second look around. Eventually, her gaze fell back on the adjacent wall. With nothing more than a hunch, she climbed atop it.

The scenery changed around her. The shapes of pressure plates protruded from otherwise flat ground. A wide, hidden pitfall further ahead now appeared glaringly obvious. She had a clear view of a distant watchtower through a hole in the branches above.

The young woman smirked, admiring the cleverness of it all. Most people would scale the wall to spy for traps, like she did. This not only slowed the incoming party, but tricked them into revealing themselves in-advance. Any nearby sentries would have a better chance of spotting newcomers walking along the elevated path—as well as a better chance of striking them down without the dense undergrowth to cover them. She also noticed that the lower branches of the trees were cut, discouraging anyone from attempting to climb them instead.

Ferris saw little reason not to play along. If anything, she hoped someone spotted her. It was possible that she wouldn’t have to set one foot in Solaris if a guard came to meet her first.

There was no such luck. The group steadily made their way to the town gates. Recognizing Zilla immediately, one of the guards took off inside. Ferris let the soldiers do most of the talking and kept behind them, only contributing to the dialogue when she had to.

Solaris was a place of living history, where the old fused with the new. New buildings connected to older ones. Streets were paved around statues and stone circles from a bygone time. Structured like a massive fortress, it seemed its walls were built to defend those remnants of antiquity just as dutifully as they were meant to defend the people residing within.     

As a town nestled so close to the border between the Two Kingdoms, there was a definite mix of humans and monsters among its population. Even so, Ferris received more than her share of looks from the locals. To be fair, her current company was an odd bunch, but her guild talisman did more than enough to draw attention. The guards who first saw her as an uncommon crimson mage with an inflated story of heroism soon looked at her more warily once they learned that she was with Arnaud’s. The guild’s reputation always preceded it, but she doubted that alone was the case here.

Especially when she spotted a pair of canines rush over to them once they were allowed inside: One grey, one gold. A long dormant anger ignited at the sight of them. Ferris was quick to stamp out the emotion before it showed on her face. They were part of a small squad that hurried to the scene upon their youngest lady’s return.     

“Zilla!”   

Two more figures raced behind them mere moments later: Two female skeletons wearing short-sleeved jupons and light armor. The one that Ferris recognized on-sight was Didone, who had also attended the wedding—granted, she’d only seen her from afar and when she’d been wearing a dress as well. She had a tall, willowy frame; a dark undershirt; and dual jawblade battleaxes strapped to her hips. The other must’ve been Rotunda, the eldest. While Rotunda was only a little taller than Ferris, she had a strong-looking body. Unlike Zilla and Didone, her nasal cavity was more diamond than heart-shaped and fissure scars splintered up from the temporal bone on the left side of her skull. 

"What happened?!" the former demanded. She pulled the girl out of the saddle and held her by the shoulders as she set her on her feet. "You were supposed to stay at home while we were away! Look what you're wearing! Did you sneak out again?”   

Zilla barely answered, staring at the ground with a shrug and only mumbling a few words at a time. Rotunda had the same look of mixed terror and relief when she'd appeared, but now composed herself. As Didone continued to scold their little sister, the eldest skeleton examined their company, quietly piecing together the string of events that had led them all here. For a brief minute, her and Ferris' eyes met. The seer felt the invasive energy of an appraisal spell wash over her. 

How much did they know? Tobius, Valda, and Castellar had all insisted that, out of all of the Monster Kingdom, only King Asgore, Fraktur, and a few confidantes were aware of her secret. Would Fraktur have told the rest of his offspring, or any of his subordinates, the full truth? She didn't sense the same hostility from Rotunda as she did from Fraktur, but that didn't mean there wasn't any. 

Fair was fair. She did an appraisal check of her own: 

ROTUNDA — LV 8 ATK 50(5) DEF 20(10)
"A heavy hitter, tough and practical to the marrow.

Rotunda visibly reacted, feeling the scrutinizing sensation of Ferris' magic, but no one else seemed to notice the exchange. A silent understanding passed between them that they wouldn't provoke each other any more than that.   

"We were so afraid!" Didone finished, "You're not a soldier, Zilla. Not yet. You can't just take off whenever you want!" 

Zilla wrung the skirt of her dress tightly between her fingers. As calm as she'd acted during the journey, she now shrank before her sister’s fierce reprimanding. Her jaw quivered and tears began to erupt from her eye sockets.

"I just wanted to help!" she sobbed, "I-I'm part of this family too!" 

She threw herself into Didone's embrace, all the fear she'd held back flooding out like water from a broken dam. Unable to keep scolding her in the state she was in, Didone winced. She gently stroked the child on the back of the head, sighing to release her own pent-up distress. Finally, the middle sister glanced over at the seer. 

"Thank you for bringing her back to us safely, Madame Mage. It really is a miracle you found her when you did."       

Ferris didn't expect to be offered a handshake, especially not upon a first greeting. From what she'd observed about Didone from afar, the tall woman was quite good at navigating the social scene despite only being a few years older than her. She had a way of maintaining a casual air without allowing anyone to think little of her for doing so. It took charisma and an incredibly shrewd perception to manage that, so Ferris knew that Didone wasn't someone to take lightly, but she gratefully returned the vigorous gesture nonetheless. In contrast, she and Rotunda merely exchanged a polite nod. 

"I might be the one thanking you after this," she replied, "As you can see, there were many children taken. I'd like to return them all to their homes, if possible. Any help would be appreciated."

Rotunda took a step closer, "Solaris is packed with guests right now, but we could ask the churches to house the little ones for a while. I'll send a messenger to our father and we can discuss matters later this evening." 

This was the part where Ferris had to brazenly decline. "I'm afraid I've been gone from the Boroughs for long enough, and I haven't had the chance to send word of my delay either. I'd hate to leave you with all the work, but I need to hurry back." 

The eldest sister's sockets narrowed, but she didn't say anything. Not until Didone countered, slightly miffed, "Awfully quick to turn tail, aren't you? You just got here. You could write a letter and have it sent off before sunset. Do you doubt our hospitality?"    

Rotunda placed a hand on her arm to stop her, "Didone... She's that crimson mage, the one who's been studying with Castellar." 

Although she kept her words vague and her voice low, there was a stark shift in the atmosphere. Whatever anyone there had heard, the poor relationship with Fraktur's house and the Arnaud Guild had to be well-known. After all, it wasn't like Castellar could stay so far away from home for so long without rumors spreading. To outsiders, his absence presumably all began the day that Ferris was brought to the Boroughs. Didone's sockets widened in understanding, staring at the seer in a new light. 

However, she then chirped, "So? If Castellar's with father, he'll be back soon as well. He could escort her to the guild himself." 

No one fully seemed to be able to wrap their minds around her suggestion. While Zilla gazed back and forth between the mage and her sisters, aware of, but confused by the unspoken tension, Rotunda gave the other older skeleton an admonishing look. The guards who happened to be listening in on the conversation awkwardly shuffled from foot to foot. 

Ferris tried again. "That wouldn't be necessary. I wouldn't want to interrupt Castellar's time with his family." 

"I'd welcome it if you did! You've probably got more than a few stories to share about our dear baby brother." 

She felt the corner of her mouth twitch, "If I had them, I'm not sure if they'd be mine to tell." 

"You could at least stay for supper. We're having honey cakes for dessert tonight," she insisted, her eyes flickering with playful cunning, "Solaris does see a lot of trade. You'd be impressed by all the different spices and sweets that come through here." 

The seer froze, unable to keep herself from giving Didone a quizzical stare. Nevermind what they knew about her ability: What exactly had Castellar told them about her? She didn't enjoy food so much that she was willing to risk her life over a plate of pastries!

Ferris considered her options, remembered a save point she'd spotted on the way into town… and figured she could make a quick escape if she really needed to. 

Castellar's older sisters were far more amiable than she might've imagined. Around three hours later, she found herself sitting in the dining hall of an old fort turned castle. They explained to her that a band of marauders—likely from the same bunch that Ferris had dealt with—had snuck into town by taking advantage of the celebrations’ massive crowds. The local guard succeeded in chasing them off, but hadn't realized that little Zilla had slipped away, intending to fight alongside them as her older siblings would only to end up captured herself. The guard sent word to Fraktur as soon as they realized she was missing, leading them all to where they were now. Rotunda and Didone made no guarantees, but assured Ferris that they would do what they could for the other children.  

The discussion switched to business from there: What kind of timeline they were looking at, who could they pull from their separate networks to locate the families, where should the children go if their families could not be found. In the meantime, Zilla and the last of the skeleton siblings—a slightly older boy named Galliard with a small jaw and low cheekbones—were oddly quiet. Zilla was clearly still upset over being scolded while Galliard merely seemed shy. More than that, the pair could barely hide their fascination toward the stranger in their home, this acquaintance of their distant brother. 

Castellar returned to Solaris before his father did. When he arrived at the dining hall, beads of sweat dripped from his forehead from the rough ride from the capitol followed by the hard search for Zilla. Seeing Ferris, his disappointment was palpable. He did not need to ask why she was there or if she'd been threatened. He just glared at her from across the room, walked around the table to sit at her side, and spat under his breath, "Glutton."

Didone teased him, “You came just in time, baby brother! Supper’s almost ready and we were about to trade stories with your guild chum.”

“Oh, spare me your obnoxious antics, sister,” he fired back, his arms crossed, “It’s been a long day for us all.”

“I wasn’t planning on asking her anything untoward. I’m just curious about what you’ve been doing all these years and what somebody not made of wood and straw has to say about you.”

Sipping mead from a pewter cup, Rotunda explained, “He spent so many days in the training yard as a kid, his might as well have been best friends with the dummies.”

“You could tolerate dummies?” Ferris turned to her guildmate, unable to resist the pile on, “Imagine that, given how much you avoid Starecrow.”

“Starecrow?” The two older sisters leaned forward in their seats with mischievous interest.

“Don’t start!”

Despite his protests, the duo continued to give Castellar a good ribbing. Seeing her older brother grow more and more frustrated, Zilla climbed out of her chair and into his lap. It was a silent show of support that he wasn’t braced for, almost startling back in his seat. He held the girl tentatively in his arms, both his face and his voice softening.

Ferris found it hard not to stare at the tender show of affection, but not just because it was Castellar making it. Zilla looked to be eight or nine at the oldest, meaning that she and Galliard had to have been toddlers when Castellar became Tobius’ apprentice. How many moments just like this one had he missed during his years as a hostage? It wasn’t just that he’d missed out on watching them grow up: He’d practically missed out on knowing them at all. Thinking of Ciara, her heart went out to him.

The feeling was short-lived. Catching Ferris’ eyes, he frowned at her, “What are you looking at?”

She didn’t get the chance to launch a retort. The doors to the dining hall opened once more and in walked Fraktur. The battle-worn veteran was just as imposing as when Ferris had initially met him. Armor glinted under a heavy traveling cloak, and every step he took carried the weight of authority. Even after having been informed of her arrival, when he noticed Ferris at the table, he still shot her a dark leer.

Like soldiers at-the-ready, his children stood up, backs straight, to greet him. Ferris also rose from her seat for politeness’ sake.

“Father,” Rotunda addressed, her voice noticeably rigid, “Welcome back.”

Chapter 42

It wasn’t very long into the dinner before Ferris began to curse her impulsiveness, swearing that this was the last time she’d allow herself to be bribed with food. The table’s atmosphere was so stifling that it was a wonder it didn’t give her indigestion. At least they still talked, albeit, if only to summarize the recent events for Fraktur and Castellar’s sake or, beyond that, of only the most mundane of topics. Nevertheless, the young woman could think of a hundred more pleasant meals she’d shared with total strangers at Blue Moon’s.

Nothing Fraktur said or did betrayed his inner thoughts, but it was clear to Ferris that her presence wasn’t wanted. He never bothered to reintroduce himself or say a word of welcome, instead quickly taking hold of the flow of the conversation. When possible, he didn’t speak to her so much as around her, directing his minimal questions about the kidnapping to his daughters. He kept a firm expression—even when scolding Zilla about running off into danger—as if he thought any display of emotion he might make in front of the seer was some kind of loss against her.   

The carrots are soft. The cakes are good. Focusing on the individual dishes prevented Ferris from showing just how bothered she was by the whole affair—not that she wanted to talk much with Fraktur either. In fact, she was thankful that no one tried to force any dialogue between them, content to let the moment pass.

At least, it should’ve passed. By the end of the meal, she had her goodbyes scripted in her head. Before she could utter them, however, Fraktur made a sudden request.

“Now that we’ve eaten… Madame Mage, I think it best if we continue any further discussion in private,” he said in an impassive tone, “My office isn’t far, if you’ll follow me.”

Castellar, who had stayed silent for most of the meal, voiced an objection, “Its’s gotten late. We all raced straight from Callumont and none of us have rested well. Would it not be best to wait until morning?”

“I only mean to discuss compensation, nothing more.”

He wanted to reward her? That was certainly an about face… Under the table, a gloved hand overlapped Ferris’ wrist. Castellar gave her a sidelong glance that said, I knew you shouldn’t have come here.

She’d already entered the lion’s den. If Fraktur was going to subdue her, he’d have already tried to do so—have put his blade to her throat on-sight or demanded her capture. The latter was still a possibility. If they were alone, as the local lord, he could make up any lie to have her imprisoned. At this point, however, would her capture really be worth the inevitable fight? What was he willing to risk?

“If you’re that tired, by all means, rest, but it shan’t take long.”

With that, he left the room. Ultimately, Ferris decided to hear him out. She’d be ready for the worst, but maybe this was a chance to settle matters once and for all. She brushed aside Castellar’s hand, giving him a determined look. After a moment’s pause, he offered her his left arm to escort her, since his father had already gone ahead.

Rotunda called the children to put them to bed while Didone nursed her drink at the table. As the two mages walked past where she sat, she commented indirectly, “Madame Ferris, don’t worry too much over the little ones. You’ll find that the people of Solaris aren’t as troubled by hybrids as others. Our father included, although he won’t show it. He’s familiar with the sort of words that can follow them. Rustdust, we’ve been called.”

“Didone!” Castellar barked his sister’s name in a fierce warning. She gave him a casual shrug and returned to her drink.

Rustdust. While it was a term that the seer didn’t really hear in the Boroughs, she did know of it. It was derogatory slang for a monster that strongly resembled a human—born from an old myth that their dust looked like dried blood, the color of rust, when they died. It was a word that occasionally followed Avalbanshee, and was supposedly one of the reasons she rarely visited her hometown of Icefield. It wasn’t used often these days.

Didone wasn’t trying to reassure Ferris. She was asking her, in a roundabout way, not to judge Fraktur too harshly.

Yes, for a man who devoted so much of himself to protecting the Monster Kingdom, Ferris could only imagine what a ding to his pride that was. It could’ve been what made him so driven in the first place—convinced him that he had something to prove. However, his hurt pride was not her problem.  

Ferris thought this when she’d first arrived, but it seemed that much of the fort castle’s original look and build were kept. Its halls were spartan, decorated with little other than marks in the stone from battles long past. Because of that, a single tapestry hanging on the wall easily caught her attention. The shapes of seven skeletons was woven into its design, who Ferris could only assume was Castellar’s family: His father; his siblings; and his lost mother, Littera.

The seer knew almost nothing about her. She didn’t have the same renown as her husband. Castellar never mentioned her, not that he’d made a point of talking about his relatives to begin with. All Ferris had heard was that Littera had grown weak and fallen down not long after her second son entered the world.

The tapestry was well-cared for, a representation of a cherished memory.

Castellar stayed outside while Ferris entered the office. Fratkur squinted at him, but rather than chasing him off, he compromised by leaving the door slightly ajar. In return, Ferris heard her guildmate shuffle back a few steps, just far enough away to let them talk without him listening in.

Almost instantly, a crushing pressure flooded the room. Blue magic. The powerful rush of energy made the young woman feel as if she were suspended on a high, blustery cliffside or thrust to the bottom of a deep lake. It wasn’t meant to make her physically buckle, only intimidate her.

“Alright, young Ferris. You saved my daughter and braved the dangers of coming here.” Fraktur took a seat as though he’d done nothing, getting straight to the point. “What do you want?”

She almost gave him a vexed smile. The bitterness in his tone made it all clear to her. He didn’t want to reward her out of genuine gratitude: He just didn’t want to owe her anything. In that case, she could ask him whatever she liked and he’d likely give it to her without complaint. Money, rare spices or ingredients for potions… She could possibly even negotiate a favor for any trade that passed through Solaris to the Boroughs.

Ferris felt plenty bitter herself. “In all truth, I didn’t know that Zilla was your daughter until she told me her name. I only did what I thought was right, Your Lordship.”

“Good deeds deserve equal compensation and I’m not so thankless. Come now. Whatever you desire within reason, say it and it’s yours.”

“Would it offend you if I said I wanted nothing?”

A faint, azure glow enveloped his irises. The pressure in the room sharply intensified, so much so that Ferris felt as if her heart had been seized. Now she smiled, feeling her own eyes burn a bright crimson. The pain subsided as Fraktur composed himself.

“I’ve already forgiven you,” she didn’t let up, “if only because of the guild, and because staying angry at someone I’d never even met until late was too much wasted energy. I learned to forgive Cas. Not that either of you were ever worth my grudge.”

There was a sound of fingers scraping against the surface of the desk as the warrior drew one hand into a fist. Other than for his continued glare, he didn’t respond.

“You want to give me something? Let me leave Solaris without trouble. That’s all I’ll ask for.”

Again, silence. Asking if he could simply let her go empty-handed—what he had to do anyway—was the one thing that was too much for him. What could he argue though, when she kept heaping burning coals on his head?

“Arrogant girl… I see you’ve adopted your guildmaster’s frustrating way with words,” he eventually muttered.

“I’m sure Master Tobius would take that as a compliment.”

“You’re a threat to all of Ebott. A single bad choice on your part could bring forth disaster.”

She couldn’t let him rattle her. She picked up her faltered smile. “Then allowing my freedom would be the greatest reward you could grant me.”

His brow furrowed. Signing deeply through his nose, Fraktur leaned back in his chair and considered her a moment longer. The weight over Ferris gradually lifted.

He called out, “Castellar, give her a room. I don’t want to hear a word that we treat our guests poorly.”

---

Another vision came to her that night. Ferris found herself in a dim, frozen landscape, her disembodied vision hovered over two male skeletons. She recognized them from some of the other prophetic dreams she’d had regarding the two human children.

It looked like they were playing in the snow. The tallest of the pair was molding it into an impressive sculpture of himself—granted, the muscles on it were more than a bit much. It had such a narrow base that the seer couldn’t fathom how it managed to stand on its own. Behind him, the shorter one pushed a mess of snow into a skeleton-sized lump… and left it at that.

The wind was too strong for Ferris to hear them. The tall skeleton looked once over his shoulder to check on the other’s progress, did a quick double-take, and then started berating him. The shorter skeleton held up his hands in a pacifying manner before digging something out of a pocket in his tunic and writing four, lazily-scribbled letters onto the lump: ‘s a n s.’

This did nothing to satisfy his companion. The tall skeleton glowered, waving at the mound and then placing his gloved hands on his hips. Ferris tried not to laugh, only able to imagine his scolding words and whatever the other said to parry them. She found that she liked seeing how this pair interacted than she did seeing how the short skeleton treated the blue-shirted child.

---

It was still dark out when she awoke. Nothing save for her own thoughts had shaken her from the dream. Ferris rubbed her eyes, disappointed by the break in her slumber. Do you plan on haunting my dreams too? Compared to the children she was beginning to think might be her descendants, she saw those two skeletons almost as regularly.

The bed she’d been lent was plenty comfortable, but she just couldn’t fall back asleep. After several minutes of tossing and turning, Ferris grabbed her cloak and opened the window. The cold night air felt good to her face.

It couldn’t have been too fast past the witching hour. While much of Solaris was cloaked in shadow, a few persistent lights shined on yet. The quiet chatter of the night watch passing by was drowned out by the chirrup of insects. Things were peaceful.

One of the lights came from a nearby balcony. Ferris had been given a room in a connected tower—situated on the third floor. The balcony was on the same level, but part of the main building. She knew it to be Castellar’s room from when she’d been escorted past its door.  

Since sleep wouldn’t return to her anytime soon and she couldn’t contain her curiosity, the young woman climbed onto the windowsill, enveloped herself in blue magic, and jumped. The flat stones of the castle’s outer wall chilled her bare feet as she ricocheted off of them and landed on the balcony without injury. A second later, a flying bone narrowly missed her head.

“Damn it, Ferris!” Castellar’s voice snapped at her, “What gave you the idea to barge in like an assassin? I could’ve killed you!”

“Tobius never would have promoted you if you were that jumpy.” She countered, watching the beam of the attack vanish in the distance. Her skin tickled where it had whizzed past.

She turned to face him. Castellar’s room here in Solaris looked like a fully-realized version of his quarters in the guild. An entire wall and half of the one next to the door was covered in shelves of books. A small table was positioned cozily next to an unused fireplace, a few candles lit instead. Papers and writing utensils were carefully organized. In the opposite corner nearest where she stood, there was a canopied nook that made for a rich-looking bed.

“Are you only wearing your shift under that?!”

“You’ve seen me in less.”

A blanket was hurled over her and a pair of boney hands forced her to sit on the mattress. Out of everything she’d done that day, this seemed to upset him the most. His fingers dug into her shoulders and she could practically see the fumes emitting from his sockets.

It wasn’t as if he was dressed at his finest either. She’d never seen him wear an open shirt before.

She expected him to keep yelling at her. Instead, he mumbled in a stilted way, “Your leg. Let me see it.”

“Now you don’t care for modesty?”

“You’ve been favoring one side.”

There was no lying to trying to dismiss his accusation. If Castellar knew she was injured, then he’d probably noticed it hours ago and just hadn’t said anything until now. Reluctantly, she showed him where the needle had gone through her thigh. It wasn’t a large wound nor was it infected. She’d left it alone knowing it would heal and that she needed to tend to the kids.

After that, she couldn’t afford to look weak.

There wasn’t much he could do. He cast a simple healing spell right away, leaning forward as he focused on his work. Ferris tried to look anywhere that wasn’t directly at him, her lips pursed.

Her eyes fell to a place on his exposed thorax with spidery markings. An old scar. It took her a while before she remembered where he’d got it. She’d died then. She’d reset, meaning she’d never giving him the potion.

Ferris reached out for him unconsciously, her fingertips tracing over the markings. Castellar stilled. He grabbed her hand. She didn’t have the nerve to ask him if it hurt.

“Scars are evidence of how far we’ve come,” his words were low, hesitant. “That’s what I’ve always heard from the guard.”  

“You don’t sound certain.”

“I am.”

The minutes continued to march on. Ferris realized that she was no longer interested in exploring his room. After the spell was done, she tried to leave only to find her soul caught by Castellar’s magic. Unlike his father’s, it was a gentle hold.

“Stay,” he ordered, walking back to the tomes waiting for him on the table, “You shouldn’t have come to Solaris. We can’t count on someone not attacking you in the night, so stay here. I doubt I’ll sleep as it is.”

Normally, she would’ve laughed at the risk of something like that happening, but somehow, she found herself nodding along. His bed was nicer anyway, its thick curtains providing a little extra shadow against the candles’ glow and striking moonlight He returned to his original seat. She pulled the blankets tighter around herself and laid down, watching his back until blissful slumber claimed her once more.

Chapter 43

She hadn’t truly expected Castellar to set out for the Boroughs with her the very next day.

Ferris felt more troubled leaving with him than she did when he’d realized she’d come to Solaris. There were more eyes on them as they rode through the streets, with the majority of the townspeople knowing who he was. They’d had to soothe a disappointed Zilla and Galliard for not staying longer. She’d never asked or pressured Castellar to cut his visit home short, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit responsible for him doing so anyway.

“You barely have an inkling of the workload ahead of us,” he bemoaned, “We’ve bought ourselves a few more days since we left the wedding celebrations early. I intend to use them. There’s too much to prepare for before summer’s arrival.”

And that was all he said on the matter. Ferris was more than fine riding back by herself. Moreover, there was no promise of when he’d see his siblings again. Leaving so soon didn’t sit right with her. However, she didn’t try talking him into staying. Even if she felt like giving him that kind of advice, family was a topic they rarely broached. In the very least, they didn’t talk about it unless it concerned their work in some fashion. So, Ferris kept silent, unwilling to cross that long-maintained boundary.

Besides, maybe there wasn’t a need for her to say anything. From what she understood, the guildmaster had never outright banned any of Castellar’s family from entering the Boroughs. Beyond that, Tobius had gradually been loosening the reins on his former apprentice, and allowing this visit may as well have signaled that Castellar’s days as a hostage were finally at an end. Since he was ‘behaving,’ and since they didn’t have to keep Fraktur in-check anymore, there was no reason that Castellar couldn’t travel home more often.

Their ride through Solaris and out its gates was calm. Not just quiet… Calm. It was a kind of silence that neither Castellar nor Ferris were used to in each other’s company. If they didn’t have to keep vigilant for potential threats or if they weren’t fuming over their last argument, then they were separately planning for their next spar of words. The road they currently traveled was safe, there was no mission to distract them, and there was no cause to argue. All that echoed between them was the soft trod of hooves as they rode side by side.

Ferris glanced at Castellar’s saddlebag. It bulged more than usual. She could make out the shape of some heavy text beneath the flap. Poor horse. Not that she hadn’t any right to talk. Her own pack was slightly heavier as well, stuffed with a few treats and new ingredients that she’d purchased that morning.

They left Solaris from the opposed end of town. On this side, its ancient, outer walls ran through more fields than forested terrain. Pink, white, and gold wildflowers sprinkled around the shells of buildings and grave markers. The two crossed paths with a sentry on patrol and a few children at play before finding themselves alone in the bright spring landscape.

“I wandered through these ruins often as a boy,” the skeleton mused aloud.

“Is that so?” Ferris could no longer bear the quiet herself, but she didn’t know what to say.

“I think I favored myself as something of an antiquarian. I’d find all sorts of rubbish, convinced that it was some old treasure, and take it home. Worn buckles, clay shards…” He shook his head at the memory. “The scoldings I got.”

Ferris struggled to keep the line of her mouth from turning upward. She believed his sisters when they’d told her how Castellar spent his youth training. It was harder to imagine a smaller version of him playing outside in a striped shirt, acting like a normal child.

"What were you like? Before your magic manifested." 

She straightened her back in a long stretch as she thought about it. The young woman supposed that she did her fair share of exploring as well, although she was far from alone back then. She couldn't remember a time when her eyes didn't burn crimson, so there were always concerns over her getting snatched away to serve Mollendale's lord as an apprentice mage. It wasn't until she was around seven or eight years old, when it seemed that any magical ability she possessed would be subpar at best, that she was allowed to roam outside with friends. After that, Ciara followed at her heels from the moment her little sister had started toddling. 

Looking back, she must've been a little hellion, never wanting to sit still for long—not when there were trees to climb and bugs to spy on and frogs to chase. If she told Castellar any that though, then she felt like she was only asking him to mock her. "I liked people watching," when the skeleton gave Ferris an unconvinced look, she elaborated, "I'd wander into shops to see how other people did their jobs. Sometimes, they'd chase me off; sometimes, they'd let me help."

Those memories were bittersweet ones now. Ferris couldn't claim that all of her neighbors had been friendly even before the fires that had devoured her hometown, but she'd known many of them by name. The baker, the blacksmith... There were many in Mollendale that grew familiar with her adventures into town or from running deliveries for her parents.

"So, you were always nosy." 

The seer fired back with a sharp look of her own. Had he prepared a taunting reply for any answer she might've given him? She quipped, "Yes, so there's not a chance you and I would've hung around the same, boring circles." 

There was a spiked trap ahead. Ferris brought her mare to a gallop to leap over it with Castellar running a few beats behind her. 

"My research wasn't boring." The skeleton wore a chafed expression that she didn't expect him to make at such a minor retort. 

"Your research?" she smirked, "That's a big way of talking about a child's game."

“I did more than just scavenge for scraps. I studied these ruins, tried to make sense of the pieces of our history.” 

“And did you ever manage it?”

Riding closer, Castellar reached into a pouch at his belt and passed her an embroidered handkerchief. In one corner, there was the letter ‘C’ with a leaf design sprawling from it. The border of the fabric was detailed with a repeated pattern of the Monster Kingdom’s emblem.

“I was fascinated with the Delta Rune the most, although I can’t say that I ever saw any real reward for my efforts,” he continued, “A part of me hoped that I might learn more with the people at Arnaud’s, but there’s not many records of it in the guild’s study either.”

Despite it being such a well-known symbol in the Monster Kingdom and Ebott as a whole, the Delta Rune was one of the land’s greatest mysteries, predating written history. There were all sorts of theories that floated around it, from it predicting the arrival of some otherworldly being to it serving as a warning of the end times. There were even some questions about its origins since, as heavily present as the emblem was throughout monster culture, the existence of a prophecy implied the involvement of a crimson mage.  

In short, any records about it that did exist covered far more speculations than actual facts. It didn’t help that its design was so vague: A circle with what seemed to be wings—some wondered if it symbolized an angel—hovering above three triangles. Priests had studied the emblem, mages had studied it, the greatest minds under the mountain had tried to decipher it only for their hard work to bear little fruit. 

Ferris handed the handkerchief back to him. "You couldn't have picked a harder subject." 

Castellar and his horse moved back to a comfortable distance. "Then even Madame Valda's one-and-only student doesn't know anything?" 

"Madame Valda trained me to become a seer, not a historian." 

There was only a grain of validity to that excuse, given all of the lessons her teacher had drilled into her, but it was there. They'd only had five years. Seeing to it that Ferris became well-rounded, and that she had all the wisdom needed to use her authority over time and face those who would seek to abuse it, was more important. Thus, Valda had never pushed her to grasp more than the basics of psychometry or showed much concern for her lack of bookish knowledge. 

"Valda may be gone, but that doesn't mean you couldn't afford to learn a thing or two more. The position for the Head of the Crimson Mages is still vacant. Someone could claim that role before you," Castellar chided, "Besides, reckless as you are, you might enjoy testing the puzzles in some of the ruins." 

Adventuring through the remnants of a forgotten civilization, braving through puzzles and traps left untouched for a millennium, uncovering whatever secrets were hidden beneath the shadows of Mt. Ebott... Ferris thought that there was more than enough excitement already in her life. Moreover, that sort of dream wasn't one that she could realistically pursue before discovering who might inherit her ability next; however, it wasn't a bad dream.  

"Actually, you might be right. I might like that." 

Her unabashed agreement gave him pause. Things were quiet again for a short while before the skeleton said anything else. 

"We might be of some use to each other then. If you would entertain me in my studies, I could assist you with yours."    

Ferris snorted. Since the both of them had completed their apprenticeships, she was certain that the days spent begrudgingly training or reviewing texts together were over as well. She was happy without Castellar judging her handwriting or correcting every little error she made on a page.

Even so, who else could she team up with? Iva fought to balance her job as a mage with her new role as a mother. Hystrangea may as well have laid roots in the guild’s herb garden. Ciara lacked practice with temporal magic. Anyone else stayed too busy, was outside of her circle of close peers, or just wouldn’t be interested.

“I’ll consider it.”

Any plans they intended to make would have to wait. No sooner had the pair returned to the guild, they were met with a plethora of tasks that needed their attention. Castellar needed to help Tobius oversee the latter half of spring planting. Ferris needed to prepare the residents of the Boroughs for potential floods. The warm weather invited more people to send in and take up jobs from the request board, giving the guild’s leaders more work in turn.

Before they knew it, the Meeting of Olives was upon them at last.       

Chapter 44

“According to our informants, the focus of this year’s meeting will largely be on increasing trade by securing new routes.”

Arnaud’s leaders joined one another in Tobius’ office to discuss their own approach to the upcoming event. They could only directly participate in negotiations if the Two Kingdoms’ representatives failed to act on a united front. However, that didn’t mean they could just sit back and wait for disagreements to happen. There was also no promise that whatever the Two Kingdoms intended to negotiate for themselves would necessarily be good for Boroughs.

“New routes?” Crococus echoed, raising a scaly brow, “Things have calmed down in the last few decades, sure, but there’s still skirmishes at the borders. Relations are too volatile to expand much.”

Monty leaned back in his seat, his arms folded across his chest, “I don’t know… It’s been years since I’ve last been on the front myself, but I hear our good ole’ neighbors aren’t aiming at us like they used to. There’s more battles on the high seas now. I’d bet that has something to do with it.”

For all of Ebott’s resources, if there was one thing the Two Kingdom’s lacked, it was a strong navy. Nearly the entire western border was set right by the sea, but they’d always had more ships coming in for business than going out. There was more and more talk lately though about a ‘new world.’ New lands, strange peoples… Ferris only had a passing interest in the stories, so she admittedly didn’t know much, but they’d put the entire continent into a kind of frenzy—a reckless race of discovery.

“If outsiders start coming deeper in, there’s going to be more work for us,” Avalbanshee bemoaned.

Hystrangea looked around at the other head mages, “Shouldn’t we take it as a good sign? Trade is growing. There’s less fighting. One of the best motivators for peace is profit.”

“Yes, but while our leaders are busy dealmaking over glasses of wine, who do you think they’ll summon when conflicts arise?”

“I don’t think anyone here is old enough to remember when the nomads flocked to Ebott,” Monty added, “There’s still tension between certain villages to this day over that.”

“Iva’s family came from those nomads,” Camlet spoke with a light note of warning, defensive of his former student.

Monty raised a hand in a passive motion, “I’m just saying there were problems. Territory was lost, people got hurt, and everyone was too focused on picking a scapegoat to solve anything.”

The Head of the Yellow Mages was referring to a bit of history that took place roughly over the course of the last century and ended in the early years of the present one. In other lands, many of the nomads were accused of using magic—whether they truly were mages or not—and a great number of them eventually found themselves settling in Ebott to flee from persecution. Mining rights had always been a hard issue between the Ebott’s two races, and a few lords in the Human Kingdom were all too eager to use those refugees as a shield to take land from the Monster Kingdom and obtain a large pool of cheap laborers. While half the newcomers choose to keep to the roads, others took the offer to settle. This established some of the scattered mining villages that dotted Ebott’s dividing line.

Naturally, the Monster Kingdom was outraged, but that wasn’t the only cause for the fighting that followed. Even those that didn’t blame the nomads still occasionally found themselves at odds with them. The nomads were human, finding more in common with their flesh and blood brethren than their new, magical neighbors. Given those differences and what either side stood to lose, it was little wonder why some acted no better than children joining in the ridicule of their less popular playfellows. Except the stakes were raised to a dangerous adult game.

This situation wasn’t quite the same; however, if a similarly large wave of outsiders were to rush across Ebott, there was a danger of those days repeating. Moreover, they risked inviting their enemies among the merchants that traveled inland.

The guildmaster addressed his subordinates doubts with a few short words, “If both sides wish for it, then there’s little we can do other than advise them not to charge ahead with their plans recklessly.”

“Do we know how many representatives will attend?” asked Crococus.

“The Two Kingdoms have agreed to send four representatives each,” Tobius answered, then made a weary expression as he added, “along with an impressive number of guards.”

With the exception of Gerson, they still had no idea who would be at the Meeting of Olives. Such security likely meant one thing though: Some of the representatives were from the higher nobility.

“Then shouldn’t we send more mages ourselves? More than two, at least,” Camlet suggested, giving Ferris and Castellar a concerned look.

Hystrangea’s face was more apologetic as she jumped in after the fabric-like monster, “And the both of you are inexperienced—no offense. Tobius, maybe you should go instead, or send someone else to go with them.”

The other head mages’ confusion when the guildmaster had revealed his decision to send them was to be expected. As the date of the meeting drew closer and closer, Ferris never felt any more ready for it. She completely agreed with their seniors that this was too important a job for them to take on so early in their careers.

Nevertheless, the guildmaster had the final say, “Two mages are more than enough. You’re all aware that Castellar has worked closely at my side and inherited his father’s silver tongue. I have instructed Ferris to sniff out any trouble that the envoys might bring with them. And if any trouble should arise, who do you believe could overcome them both?”   

They had a hard time going against that logic. They’d helped the two grow up. Not only were they aware of just how intense the pair’s training had been under Tobius and Valda, they’d also never had much to complain about the work they did substituting for their former masters. There was no stronger crimson mage than Ferris, and there were few other mages as highly-skilled and well-versed in political games as Castellar.

Nevertheless, Monty found the big crack in Tobius’ argument. “Ferris, I get it. You can carry yourself well enough so long as you can keep from mouthing off. There’s nothing anyone can try to use against you either. But Castellar… You’ll always be Fraktur’s boy.” He pointed at the skeleton before turning his gaze back to Tobius. “We’ve got no shortage of negotiators. Anyone of us here could go—”

“Then which of you wish to volunteer?”

No one offered. Despite their roles, Ferris was far from the only Arnaud mage who loathed the complicated interactions with nobles and their officials.

Before they could think of recommending someone else, the young seer noticed Tobius and Castellar share a glance. The former’s deep blue eyes were stoic and steady. The latter’s eyes were full of uncertainty, breaking contact first as he gave a single nod.

Ferris’ eyes widened. Right now? Are they really going to—?

“Going forward, there won’t be a need to question Castellar’s loyalty to the guild,” Tobius explained, “Soon, I will announce him as my successor.”

The news shocked everyone: Ferris, because she wasn’t aware that the matter was ever truly decided, and the head mages, because they’d never heard of any such decision in the first place. They stayed quiet. Camlet’s jaw was slack before, slowly, a tiny, amused grin pulled at the corner of his wrinkled mouth. The wheels in Crococus’ head seemed to be turning—seemingly piecing together each part of the skeleton’s journey from apprentice, to assistant, to Head of the Blue Mages—as if he was coming to terms with this as the next, natural step. Hystrangea appeared fretful.

Avalbanshee simply balked at the guildmaster for a long while before her voice rose to almost a shout, “You’re stepping down?”

“Not yet.” Tobius flashed her a boyish smile, rising from his seat to pat Castellar on the shoulder from behind. “I imagine I still have quite a few good years ahead of me, bossing the lot of you around, but I will be preparing him to take my place.”

“But why?! What do you plan to do after that?”

“Well, I’ve considered traveling for some time now, or Castellar and I might simply trade positions. The Boroughs is my home, so I don’t intend to vanish entirely.”

He spoke with such a devil-may-care air that he might as well have instead announced that he was planning a trip to the beach. As her seniors continued to demand answers, Ferris avoided looking directly at any of them, just in case she somehow let it slip that she knew about Castellar’s promotion in-advance.

She knew that Tobius wasn’t foolish enough to try to force Castellar to become the next guildmaster. He wouldn’t have said anything if the skeleton hadn’t accepted the role. However, while Castellar had gone back to wearing a reserved expression, an aura of ambivalence and uncertainty still clouded around him. Ferris couldn’t guess what had finally driven him to making this choice.

She almost shivered when her eyes roamed to the other side of the office to find Monty giving the skeleton a familiar, hard stare. It’d be a couple years since the yellow mage had made that face—specifically at Castellar. It was the same face Monty had worn when he nearly killed Castellar as a boy.

“Is this what you want?” the veteran asked. His voice was so uncharacteristically calm that it quietened the uproar surrounding him.

Castellar didn’t immediately reply.

“Do you really see yourself spending the rest of your life here in the Boroughs?” Monty pressed further, “With us? After everything?”

Again, he wasn’t quick to respond. Instead, his gaze dropped to the floor—and the more he delayed answering, the more concerned and impatient the other head mages seemed to get. Oddly enough, even though she’d waited for a clear answer longer than anyone else in the room, Ferris felt remarkably calm.

Shifting in her seat, Hystrangea reached out a leafy hand and enveloped it over Castellar’s own. As much doubt lingered in her eyes, she still tried to put on an understanding grin for him, encouraging him to speak honestly.

However, Monty was not so gentle. With a grunt, he stood up and motioned for the skeleton to follow him out of the office.

“Step out back with me for a bit. Let’s have us a good spar, like we used to.”

Some of the earliest memories of her apprenticeship flooded the seer’s mind. Once, she’d begrudgingly helped pack some tomes up to Valda’s room. Passing the infirmary, she happened to peep inside and noticed Garrick patching up several cracks across the skeleton’s shoulder blades. Another day, Ferris was cleaning the horse stalls as part of her chores when Castellar landed in one of the outside troughs. Left half-conscious, two other students had to pull him out of it. Time and time again, she’d watched Monty ‘invite’ him to spar only for it to result in a one-sided beatdown.

Castellar was no boy now and he had the freedom to fight as ruthlessly as he wished, matching the veteran blow for blow, but… why did it come back to this all of a sudden? Ferris thought that Monty had forgiven him for betraying the guild a good, long time ago.

Avalbanshee seemed to think the same, “Is that really necessary?”

“No, I’ll do it.”

At last, Castellar gave some kind of firm response. He lifted his head, returning Monty’s stare with a fierce look of his own, then rose to his feet.

“I’ll do it,” he repeated, “if that’s what it takes to earn back your confidence.”

Chapter 45

Since the tournament grounds was so close by, the guild compound had no proper sparring area. Aside from a few garden beds, there was only the archery range and a wide field at the back. Even so, there was plenty of room for those who wanted to fight and train without restraint. The barren marks in the grass were evidence of past spars. 

Aside from Hystrangea—who hurried off to the infirmary to grab tonics and bandages in case of the worst outcome—the rest of the guild's leaders followed Castellar and Monty outdoors. Such a group was bound to attract attention, and soon they were joined by a small audience. Almost giddy, Camlet offered to preside over the match, the pair stepping twenty paces apart from one another as they waited for his call.

"Honestly, what will firing bullets at each other prove...?" Avalbanshee voiced in disapproval, trying to fan away the midday heat.

Ferris shook her head, "I can't guess what Monty is thinking either."

"I think he's taking a page from your book," Tobius murmured at her side, earning himself a sour frown from the young woman. 

“Are you not going to stop this nonsense when you punished us for fighting then?”

“Back then, if you two had disguised your bout as a simple duel between guildmates, I wouldn’t have had a problem with it.”

She pursed her lips at the unfair reasoning. This wasn’t the same as airing out long-held grievances. When she'd insisted that Castellar fight her, at least they'd made a point not to use magic. There had been little chance of them gravely harming each other. 

Monty's magic warped around his gauntlets, taking the shape of large blades that extended from his forearms and well past his fingertips. Whatever his intensions and however he disguised it, this was no simple, heated brawl.

Castellar only manifested a bone sword for now. Ferris heard a trio of mages behind her already betting on the victor. She might've shot them an irritated glare if she hadn't quickly reminded herself that they couldn't possibly understand the gravity of the situation. She hoped she was worrying over nothing.

“For your sake, boy, you better treat this fight like a real one.” Electric sparks emitted from Monty’s gauntlets as he adjusted his stance. His voice rose as he redirected it toward the guildmaster, “And no calling me off this time, Tobius! I’m seeing this through!”

Tobius crossed his arms, “I'll trust you not to take things too far. Just keep it quick.”

There was no dramatic start to the battle. Castellar was the first to move, propelling himself at the veteran in a quick burst. Monty sidestepped his charge and swiped at his back. Not breaking momentum, the skeleton rolled to dodge and then sprung out of a crouch—leaping over the other to strike from above next. Monty raised his right arm up to block him.

The blade attached to his left arm still free, he drew it back with a tight first to drive it into Castellar’s ribcage. The skeleton thought fast and drove his heel into the ground: A thick humerus spawned from the earth beneath Monty and batted him in the gut, knocking him away. Even so, while Castellar had landed the first blow, it was nowhere near enough to throw the veteran off his feet. Monty’s mouth curled in a toothy, excited smirk.

Monty was one of the oldest members of the guild—the second oldest of its leaders, roughly fifteen years younger than Crococus. He’d fought under Valda in countless raids and in Ebott’s last great war, and he was now at an age where he could step back from the front lines and focus on training the next generation. However, no number of years could deplete his energy or battlelust.

The sparks crackling around him grew as their weapons clashed yet again. Blades locking, yellow magic began to radiate from Monty’s gauntlets, slowly eating away at Castellar’s sword. It was a favorite trick of the veteran’s to disarm and befuddle his opponents.

However, after years of history between them, it was a trick that the skeleton had become familiar with. Pouring more of his magic into the sword, he manipulated its shape before it could fully dissipate. It split into two, shorter blades, which he quickly used to repel Monty before the latter could advance that one step needed to carve into his chest.

He didn’t get the opportunity to follow up with another spell. Monty continued to push forward in a relentless lunge of brute force. Castellar parried one strike after the next, unable to break free from his defensive stance until he reached out to grab Monty’s soul and hurled him away. Monty swung one blade into the earth to keep himself steady and dislodged the other, sending it flying.

Castellar sidestepped out of its range and it dove toward the crowd. The same mages that had been making bets a moment earlier released a startled cry before Ferris drew out a solar disc to knock the attack off course. Both spells harmlessly fell to the grass and shattered seconds later.

“Excellent shot,” the guildmaster complimented. He and the other head mages watching hadn’t so much as flinched.

“You could’ve blocked it yourself.” The young woman didn’t look away from the match.

With a wave of Castellar’s hand, a mass of femurs rushed at the yellow mage. Monty stormed through them, breaking past one right after the other with his remaining blade. Castellar kept up the same pattern of strikes until the last moment. Once the other was close enough, he summoned a much larger bone to ram Monty in the side. Kicking up dirt, Monty somehow managed to hold his ground with a firm block. He was still close enough that, when he cast a bolt of magic, there was no room from Castellar to evade it. Gritting his teeth, the latter used the longer of the two bone shards in his hands as a kind of dampener. It absorbed the brunt of the attack and evaporated.

Castellar’s arm dangled uselessly as he jumped back to regain some of the distance between them. His now empty hand twitched painfully and sparks continued to flicker from his glove. He was able to pull it into a tight fist, so it the limb wasn’t paralyzed, but Ferris doubted that he could properly launch another spell from it for a few minutes at least.

A few minutes that his opponent would take full advantage of. Monty volleyed a round of bullets, forcing Castellar to quickly call his shield in front of him and drop the remains of his original weapon. He successfully managed to fend off each electrified blast—even those that the veteran redirected midflight to try and strike him from the sides. In the meantime, Monty closed in once again. He barreled forward, making Castellar stumble a few steps.

Yellow magic’s cancelling effect wasn’t limitless. In essence, it was an extension of the ability to redirect opposing spells, but by dispersing the magic that held them together in various directions, therefore breaking them down entirely. It was considered an advanced skill—and took a lot of one’s own power to use with any degree of accuracy.

That left the two mages in a bit of a stalemate. Monty could try to break down Castellar’s shield and Castellar could keep drawing out more of his magic to preserve it; however, they both risked wearing themselves down if they dragged out the deadlock for too long. This time, the veteran chose to rely more on his physical strength to disarm his junior, blade clashing with flat bone.

The lights of Castellar’s eyes began to radiate a teal hue. He pushed back against the other’s assault, an azure aura seemingly channeling from his hands and through his shield before passing over Monty. It rooted the latter to the spot, giving the skeleton the opportunity to counter by bashing him with the shield in-turn.

When his hand at last somewhat recovered, Castellar summoned a blue bone to pierce through the veteran. Held in place and with the magical aura surrounding him altered, the normally mild spell did excruciating damage as it phased through his body—the pain likely no different than had he been impaled on a spike.

Through sheer power of will, Monty yanked himself free. The way he shuffled on his feet was proof of how badly he’d been hurt by that last attack, and yet the eerie smirk he always wore when he was enjoying a fight didn’t fade.

“They really might kill each other…”

Ferris looked over her shoulder to find Hystrangea joining them, a basket of healing supplies dangling from one arm. A number of students followed her, including Gwen and Ciara.

“What’s happening?” her sister asked as she joined her side.

“Two of our wise leaders thought the best way to make a decision was to go for each other’s throats.”

“Ferris, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

“Did you all come together in secret with plans to mock me?”

A loud crackle of energy brought their attention back to the battlefield. The sparks that emitted from Monty’s bladed gauntlet increased. He raised his arm, the electrical flickers growing into a miniature lightning storm.

Without moving, he swung his blade. A gleaming bolt shaped like an arrow tore across the field. Castellar leapt out of the way barely in the nick of time. The earth was singed in a long streak where the bolt hit.

Another strike followed, almost soaring into the guild compound. Tobius warned them, “If either of you break a wall or damage the gardens, Dom will never let you hear the end of it!”

Monty wasn’t listening. The electricity gathering around him seemed uncontrollable. He aimed and they scattered, tearing across the grounds in a wide arc. Castellar managed to weave around them, but again, just barely.      

A few bolts flew in the direction of the students. Eyes widening, Hystrangea began to call forth a leaf-shaped shield. However, although the Head of the Green Mages was well-versed in both healing and defensive magic, she wasn’t a fighter by nature or experience. She was too slow.

In a flash of movement, Castellar raced in front of the young mages. He snatched them by their souls with one hand, throwing them out of range, and raised his own shield with the other. Sparks and bone fragments erupted around him as he braced himself. Monty didn’t let up, sending wave after wave of bolts hurtling toward the skeleton.

“This is going too far!” the floral monster shouted. She raced to fetch the students, grabbing the nearest of them by their arms to drag them further away.

“No,” the veteran answered, “but this might be.”

His bow took shape in his hands. Monty detached the blade from his arm and loaded it just as easily as he would any arrow—the string doubling in width and strength as he drew it back. Even afar, the seer could feel the energy radiating from it, a few locks of hair standing on-end from the static. Castellar responded by changing the shape of his shield: It morphed from its usual, manubrium form that protected much of his body to a ribbed pattern of daunting size.

Ferris was so astonished by the altered spell that it took her a moment to realize its glaring flaw. Defensive spells were hard enough to work with due to how often they forced the caster to remain stationary. To summon one of this magnitude, it would be near impossible for Castellar to regain the offense.

Monty fired. The improvised arrow turned a brilliant gold and struck the heart of the shield, a dull echo ringing through the air on impact. The tip of the blade appeared to drill into its surface, forcing Castellar onto one knee as he struggled to maintain it. A sharp, fusty odor tickled the seer’s nose from the burning of bone.

A smaller, unnoticed arrow whirled overhead. It struck the young man in the shoulder blade. Castellar gasped, losing his concentration, and the shield fractured. The blade didn’t completely cut through it, the opposing spells detonating on one another and sending the skeleton rolling.

Things were still. Ferris jerked her head toward Camlet, expecting him to announce that the fight was over, but he appeared too stunned to say anything. Monty advanced. She stepped forward to intervene herself when Tobius blocked her path with an outstretched arm.

“There’s no way that someone like you could become our guildmaster, boy.”

Lying on his nonexistent stomach, Castellar replied to the veteran’s stern words with a glare. Then Monty’s features relaxed, turning into a more pleased than manic smile. He offered out his hand.

“But give ya a few more years and who knows… You might do just fine.”

Befuddled and panting with exhaustion, it took Castellar a minute to accept the other’s help. He was lifted shakily onto his feet to a round of applause from their nearby audience—which was quickly interrupted as Hystrangea shoved her way in-between them to give Monty an earful. Her petals shook off amid her frantic, angry screaming and the Head of the Yellow Mages raised his hands in a sad attempt at pacifying her.

Ferris exhaled, noticing the small grin on her own lips too late. Oh well… Sometimes, it was comforting to be proven wrong.

 “Wait—he’s supposed to be the next guildmaster?” Ciara fumed, putting together what Monty had just revealed, “When did anyone decide that?!”

“I’ll tell you later.” For now, it looked like she would have to get back to work. Tobius was already ordering the others back aside so that they could resume their conversation. As Ciara pouted at her older sibling, Ferris ruffled her hair and tried not to laugh.

If everyone’s doing their best, then I certainly can’t fall behind, she thought. As a gentle breeze brushing against her, she wondered if this was one of the futures that Madame Valda had tried to get her to see, and if the future ahead of the Boroughs would be just as lively and warm.

Chapter 46

The foreign envoys were gradually beginning to arrive at the meeting place: A plateau on a smaller mountain to the east side of Mt. Ebott called the Citrine Garden. Known for its lush scenery, it was a popular travel destination among the higher nobility.

The Two Kingdoms took shared responsibility for its care. Surrounded by forest, it stood out for its clean symmetry, mimicking the traditional layout of monastic gardens. Its paths were lined with a variety of carefully tended orchard trees or hedgerows. All variety of blossom—roses, lilies, and of course golden flowers—grew within its boundaries. At its heart stood pale sculptures of legendary figures in Ebott’s past and a stone plaque with the words, “SPES ET PROSPERITAS,” hope and prosperity, carved into its surface.

It was designed to strike envy into the hearts of their neighbors, showing off Ebott’s natural bounties.   

If there was one thing the Citrine Garden lacked, however, it was proper lodgings. Many years ago, when the Meeting of Olives was first established, it was difficult for all parties to agree on where and how it would be conducted. Neither the Human nor Monster Kingdom was willing to give the other the advantage of hosting it in their own territory. Even if they had agreed to take turns hosting, neither was eager to invite any sort of heavily armed guard into their lands for the sake of pacifying their equally wary guests. As such, the Garden was nestled in an unclaimed region with no fort or palace to mark it as either side’s.

Pavilion tents cropped up across a wide field. The only other sort of dwellings nearby were the homes of the gardeners and woodwards who looked after the place and the Citrine Abbey. Another reason the area was chosen was that the local monks and nuns claimed that it was, in some manner, sacred.

“Those who seek their fortunes in the free exchange of knowledge are favored,” they said, “Theirs is a sanctuary of truth and counsel, a rule by which none have the power to break.”

While it all sounded like a bunch of cryptic speech to Ferris, she had to admit that the region had a unique aura to it. Perhaps she was being overly sensitive or letting the locals’ words get to her, but it felt like the flow of her magic was somehow being disrupted here. She’d sometimes had the same feeling at Blue Moon’s when she’d first begun her training—an odd sense of both vulnerability and ease.

She was far from the only one. Even those without magic seemed to be on edge, unsure what to make of the strange ambience.

Maybe there were all just tense from the upcoming negotiations.

“How is your side of the tent?” Castellar’s voice rose over the walls of thick fabric between them.

“All fastened,” she answered, judgingly eying what would be their shared quarters for the following weeks. For the two of them, she found the accommodations spacious: A pair of beds and decorative furnishings split by a wooden divider. The young woman thought it was overly luxurious and certainly hadn’t enjoyed dragging it all out of the guild’s storage to load it onto their hired transport; however, comparing their tent to those around them, she understood the need for the excessive display.  

Their quarters looked tasteful, yet old and rugged in comparison to the camps surrounding them. The representatives’ tents were lavish and massive, as if they’d tried to bring every comfort of their palaces to the wilderness.  

To their left was the camp of the Human Kingdom. A select few lords and ladies whose territories sat along Ebott’s borders made up their party, along with their chosen knights and a handful of mages from each of the three central guilds in the capitol of Auread. There was only one mage that Ferris recognized: A wiry young woman that was a few years her senior from the Morrigan Guild.   

Her name was Althea. The two shared quite a few similarities in that they were both highly-ranked seers in their guilds and had each lost their masters before their jump in rank. However, Ferris never could shake the feeling that the other woman was… unstable. Althea’s teacher had been none other than Morrigan’s previous guildmaster, a man whose entire being had reeked of ambition. Ferris could only imagine what the other had endured as his student. For whatever reason, Althea seemed to have an unspoken loathing of her though, so Ferris had never made more than an attempt to be polite.

The camp of the Monster Kingdom sat to their right. Their party of representatives was mostly made up of Boss Monsters, which stood out for their air of intimidation even without their noble status. One of them was Egis, a surly, old goat who was rumored to have retired from politics not long after Asgore was put on the throne. Clearly, the rumors were wrong. Whatever deals were made here, he wouldn’t allow Ebott to receive the worst end of it. Still, they would have to make certain Egis didn’t start trouble with the other ambassadors.

Most notable among both parties was none other than Prince Denver and Queen Toriel. No wonder there was so much secrecy and high security leading up to now… Ferris wondered if it was a coincidence or if only the Arnaud Guild was left out of the loop. She couldn’t guess what Denver’s intentions were, but things had to be serious for Toriel to step away from her life as a newlywed.

They weren’t the only royalty to show up either. Cousins of kings, second and third princes and princesses, even representatives of the Holy Kingdom… Ferris knew how much Ebott’s resources were sought after, but this was far bigger than she ever imagined.

“This can’t be normal,” she whispered to Castellar as he rounded the tent to join her side.

It took a moment for the skeleton to realize she was referring to the envoys. “It’s not,” he replied just as softly, “No nation would send out their leaders to do a delegate’s work without cause.”

“Any guesses as to why?”

“Princess Mordera is due to wed,” he mused, placing his hands on his hips, “Even so, I doubt they’re all here to extend their heartfelt congratulations.”

The seer tried to remember everything she’d been told about the princess’ engagement. Mordera’s groom-to-be wasn’t from any of the neighboring kingdoms, but from a region further north. The two countries did some trade overseas, but that was the extent of their relationship. She had no idea what the royal families could’ve agreed upon to arrange the marriage aside from a few ships for the bride price.

“Don’t let them rattle your nerves.”

“I’m not, but I don’t like the looks of this.”

“Neither do I, but all we can do is remain vigilant.”

At least the reports the guild received had been accurate: Both of the Two Kingdoms were truly interested in increasing foreign trade. It was an unprecedented move, but not an unreasonable one. Since they were opening themselves to new offers, their neighbors likely planned to take full advantage of that by any means necessary.

“I hope we aren’t forced to play babysitter,” she murmured, “This many key figures gathered in one place is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“I think they’ve a big enough entourage to mind themselves. That should be the last of our concerns.”

“So, you did come, Castellar.”

The pair of mages looked in unison to find Egis approaching them. The Boss Monster carried himself with a strong presence. Unlike Asgore or Toriel, his fur was tan with a greyed mane. He was blind in one eye and his long horns spiraled outward.

“When Gerson said you’d be representing the Boroughs, I scarcely believed it,” he continued, “You’ve certainly grown from being the quiet lad following at his father’s heels.”

Egis made a point to glance Ferris’ way without addressing her. The brief look was one of contempt, which he barely hid behind a shallow smile.

“It’s an honor I don’t take lightly.” Catching on quick, the skeleton introduced her, “This is Ferris, Arnaud’s Master Seer. Ferris, Egis is lord over the southernmost regions of the Monster Kingdom.”

“The clever witch of rumor! Your reputation precedes you, Madame Ferris.”

Egis might not have looked like a diplomat, but he certainly had the tongue of one. Although not as frequently used, the word ‘witch’ didn’t carry the same negative connotation in Ebott as it did in other lands. However, to say it where there were so many foreign dignitaries present was insolent at best. Reacting to him saying it would be worse though, because he could just feign innocence and question why she found it disrespectful in the first place. It meant giving weight to the wickedness he accused her of.

Ferris decided to steal his trick card before he could play it, daring him speak ill of her, “Oh my! I wasn’t aware that I had a reputation to speak of! You’ve heard only good words, I hope?”

He blinked at her, almost taken aback. “…Yes. Lord Fraktur had much to say about the fearless lady who saved his youngest.”

Looks like he forgot to tell you that I can give as much as I can take.

Castellar straightened his back a little more at the second mention of his father. He and Egis continued to trade a bit of small talk before the latter finally walked off, now looking more sour than sure of himself. Given that his remarks toward the skeleton hadn’t been the most respectful either, it seemed that Egis’ only purpose for coming over was to try to antagonize them—a battle he lost by a longshot.

Frustrated, the young woman pushed open the tent flap, entered, and plucked an apple out of a basket. The negotiations hadn’t even started and she was already tired of being here…

Castellar stepped in after her, his tone apologetic, “Egis was a part of my father’s faction.”

That explained the hostility. He had no reason to like Ferris from the start and, by now, word had likely reached the Monster Kingdom that Castellar was chosen to lead Arnaud’s after Tobius. There were bound to be those who viewed the skeleton as a traitor for it.

“I’m doubly surprised the Dreemurrs sent him here then, given they knew we were coming.”

“Egis has always been a good, tough negotiator, and he never dirtied his own hands in my father’s schemes.”

A true diplomat indeed. Taking a bite of the bright red fruit, she leaned back against the nearby table. “Is there anything else we have to do right now? How many more envoys are we waiting on?”

The skeleton walked over to his own bed to sit down. “That’s hard to say, although I doubt talks will begin any hour before tomorrow evening.”

That gave them an astonishing amount of free time and few ways to spend it. If they wanted to seek out the likes of Gerson for company, it would have to be done in a natural way, or when they could avoid any scrutinizing eyes. The pair had struggled so much to get on any kind of good terms that it was difficult for them to carry out a conversation beyond their duties. Out here, there was little recreation they might indulge in.

Sparring was out of the question. They’d brought a backgammon board and played a few rounds. Castellar won most of them… When they grew tired of that, Ferris tried meditating while Castellar opened a book he’d packed with him. They had an early, light supper and resumed their idleness.

The seer eventually tired of meditating as well and decided to go for a walk. By that point, the sun was beginning to set and the busy ruckus that filled the campground had quietened to a dull murmur. If there was a save point nearby, it was better if she found it sooner rather than later. Besides, she was curious about the Garden and didn’t know if she’d get another chance to leisurely enjoy it.

Chapter 47

A garden stroll wasn't one of Ferris' typical hobbies. She didn't think she cared much for flowers even as a little girl—not that she didn't find them pretty, she just preferred the tastier ones. She might have picked some for her mother or sister, but didn't have a great interest in receiving any herself. The plots at Arnaud's were only for utilitarian use, so she didn't find much of a reason to enjoy them during her apprenticeship either unless she was looking for a particular herb.  

However, after visiting Dreemurr Castle and coming here, Ferris found that she was starting to have a greater appreciation for flowers. Seeing them arranged and cultivated with such care, how could she not? Wandering through the garden on her own felt like escaping to a lost remnant of paradise, where the rest of the world felt distant in comparison and her burdens small. As dusk shifted into night, glow worms arose from the greenery to keep her company.

It made finding the save point a bit more challenging. She was eventually able to spot its golden twinkle further along the path. It was positioned in the heart of a wide circle of statues, on a cliff-face barricaded by a stone fence, overlooking the village below. 

FERRIS LV3
Statues — Citrine Garden
Save Return   

She could make out the sight of lanterns swinging from wagons and carriages in the distance; likely the last of the day's stragglers. The road through the village and up to the campground was brightly lit and several figures stood at the ready to welcome them. She was glad that playing hostess wasn't a part of her responsibilities.

Many of the envoys had brought their own servants and the members of the abbey had agreed to assist in various mundane tasks as well, such as helping with meals. She and Castellar could’ve brought a few students to tend to their needs, but the both of them were more than comfortable caring for themselves. Ferris was actually looking forward to visiting the villagers when they needed to restock. The corners of her lips rose in a wistful expression.

The young woman sat on the stone fence, lost in thought. Although she enjoyed seeing all of Ebott’s wonders during her travels, there was a paranoid part of her that didn’t like being away from home. It was an unspoken worry that something might happen to the Boroughs in her absence despite the number of strong mages who protected it. She knew that, as the weeks went on, that homesickness would only grow.  It just went to show how much she’d come to cherish it.

She wondered if Ciara was already headed to bed, or if Percy was keeping her up to craft some potion or another. Which unruly students had Dom put on kitchen duty as punishment for making a mess? Was Garrick spending another late night in the infirmary, tending to someone who got hurt on a job? How were those three little rabbits that had tried to rob her faring?

A wearily familiar voice interrupted her musings, “I couldn’t have stumbled upon finer company…”

Masking her feelings, Ferris made herself stand back up and bowed, “I humbly greet you, Your Highness."  

Prince Denver appeared by the same path she’d arrived by, beaming. Gone was the splendid attire from the wedding ceremony, replaced with clothes that were better suited for the outdoors. Even so, they were still quite luxurious and he wore same two heavy rings she’d last seen decorating his fingers.

“Must you be so formal?” he lightly scolded her, “There’s no one else here! No need to put on a show.”

“I wouldn’t dare disrespect the crown prince like that.”

“Would you have let your guard down a little if I was Asgore?”

Ferris inwardly winced. He had a bit of point there…  If King Asgore had approached her the same way, she would’ve kept things short, but still indulged him without discomfort. While they could both be insufferably dense at times, at least Asgore seemed to understand that there were limits to how chummy he could be with her or anyone else from Arnauds in public. She appreciated the honesty, but Denver always made it clear to all that he wanted to be close. His company was like that of a loud, overly-cheery pup yapping at her in the middle of a funeral sermon.

She felt guilty for trying to escape, hearing the disappointment in his tone. Foolish as he acted, he meant well. There was no reason she couldn’t spare him a few minutes.

Alright. He wanted her to drop the formalities? Then she would be direct. “I don’t understand what you want with me if it isn’t because the king told you to play nice.”

Those words were a long time coming, but they felt wrong no sooner had they left her mouth.  She figured that they would offend the crown prince at least a little. Despite her expectations though, Denver continued to look at her with a smile, knelt down to pluck a dandelion from its stem, and offered it to her before getting up.

“If one sees a pretty flower, who can help but admire it?”

Ferris puffed at the soft flirtation, unsure of what to make of it. Seeing the humor in his eyes, she could only assume he was joking. “Some flowers are too thorny for anyone’s liking.”  

"Some are such treasures that it's worth risking their thorns."

Her fingertips tickled a bit. She glanced down at the dandelion in her hand. Disturbed from their late meal, ants began to crawl out from the petals. 

Denver offered out his arm to her and, reluctantly, she accepted it. It gave her a chance to hide the dandelion behind her leg and brush the insects away without being rude. They weren't terribly far from the campground. If she agreed to walk back with him, she could excuse herself without much trouble.    

"I think this is the first time I've ever had the privilege of your sole companionship," the prince commented, keeping a noticeably slow pace. 

Ferris reflected on it and supposed he was right. Out of the handful of times they'd met in-person, they'd never been alone together before. No matter what they were doing, there was always other people around. Their exchange of letters was the closest thing to 'private' communication that they'd ever had, even back in the early days of her apprenticeship.

"We both have our own responsibilities to deal with," she said, "Speaking of which, I thought you'd be with the rest of the ambassadors."

"I'm no more eager to leap into the battlefield of politics than you are. When the real talks begin, our side will be ready for them. I don't see a need for unnecessary niceties." 

"You've always been oddly laidback for a royal.”

“You’ve always been oddly humble for someone of such extraordinary ability.”

They talked mostly about what little of a past they shared. The minutes passed quicker than Ferris had expected. The closer they got to the campground, the more she physically distanced herself from Prince Denver. If anyone saw them together and were going to talk about it, then she’d rather not give them any fuel for possible rumors.

Thankfully, they ran into no one. Before she could bid him goodnight, however, Denver stopped her, his fingertips brushing against her own, “There is something I wanted to ask your advice on concerning the envoys. Would you think, perhaps, we might discuss it over a drink in my tent?”

Now this was a step too far! A walk was one thing: They both had to go in the same direction and the risk from whatever rumors would crop up from it was minimal. There was no end to what would be said if someone saw her walking in or out of the crown prince’s personal quarters in the middle of the night. Not even he could be so clueless over such a thing!

Her chagrin must’ve shown on her face, because Denver quickly rectified in a softer voice, “What I have to say involves the drink. Its main ingredient comes from those strange lands overseas.”

That new world… It wasn’t a subject any of the representatives from the Two Kingdoms had directly brought up during their preparations. Even so, it had to be part of the reason why they wanted to expand trade so suddenly. The idea of tasting something new from those distant lands did fascinate her and it was possibly something she’d never get a second chance to try, but…

“You’d be better off discussing it with Castellar,” Ferris countered, “or someone from your own court. Why talk to me?”

His expression turned somewhat downcast, “I’d prefer an opinion from someone knowledgeable of medicines. As for Castellar… I don’t think he likes me very much.”

True, based on what happened at the wedding ceremony, there seemed to be more friction between the pair than the seer had long believed. Nevertheless, Castellar wasn’t the type to let his feelings get in the way of what needed to be done. Just as how they’d always set aside the bitterness between them for the sake of the Ebott, Castellar could do the same with the prince.

“If you’re too uncomfortable, we could talk in one of the larger tents,” the prince offered, then added bashfully, “I guess I really should’ve thought more about the time and place… We can leave the flap open, and I can have some of my men watching over us as well.”

She wasn’t sure if the presence of guards would do more harm or good. In the end, Ferris agreed to hear him out. Having saved only a moment ago gave her more confidence to act.

One of the prince’s attendants made the drink while the two of them waited at a large meeting table. Ferris noticed him mix honey with warm mead among the other ingredients, but when a cup was passed to her, she grimaced a little at the unappetizingly brown liquid. In contrast to its appearance, it smelled luxurious. Notes of cinnamon and other spices she couldn’t recognize filled her nose.

“What is this?”

“Caocao,” the prince explained, leaning back in his seat as he nursed his own cup, “or that’s the name of the drink’s key ingredient, I believe. I’ve only recently heard of it myself. It took quite some effort to acquire a little amount of it. They say it’s used for fatigue, stomach problems—general wellness.”

The young woman took a cautious sip. The bitter flavor that hit her tongue certainly reminded her of medicine. It was difficult to hide no matter how much the other spices tried to cover it.

“It seems you also find it to be an acquired taste,” he chuckled.

 “If you’re already thinking of importing more, it might be hard to promote it as a medicine without anyone knowing its effectiveness.” Ferris attempted to mix the drink a bit more thoroughly, hoping that would improve the taste.

“I don’t think its effectiveness matters so much as its novelty. The story goes that it was a king who introduced it to a group of explorers.”

Ferris almost sighed at how ridiculous that was. Some crops were banned in areas for their magical origins, all because of a feud, but others were considered desirable just because someone of status pitched it as such? The life of a noble must really be one of few worries if they can invest in nonsense like this…

“Can you think of anything Ebott has to offer that would compare?”

She took another, more analytical sip. Actually, maybe two problems could be solved with one answer. “I’ve always liked monster candy, and it’s used regularly in the guild’s infirmary for simple treatments. Haven’t we been able to compete with the spice trade for years because of the plants uniquely grown in our own lands? If you’re going to encourage trade, it may be the perfect opportunity to promote them. You can counter the popularity of one novelty with another.”

If that happened, even if the things she enjoyed became delicacies meant only for those who could afford them for a while… maybe the Human Kingdom’s fierce laws against magical crops would finally get thrown out. They couldn’t very well pitch a crop that they didn’t allow their own citizens to eat. Then, as the popularity wore off, the common people would gradually gain more access to them as well. They could be grown without restraint.

“But it will be trying to overcome the bias against magic.”

Ferris stared into the thick, bitter water, so unlike the sweet, colorful candies she preferred. Yes, there is that… Ebott’s nobles might be convinced. The foreign nobility? That was less likely.

“Caocao isn’t the only thing we’ll be competing against,” said Denver, “They’ve discovered a trove of other goods—not to mention gold and silver.”

Ferris felt her body grow hot and her head start to ache. Her heart was beating faster than she thought it should. She stared again into her half-empty cup. She didn’t think it was poisoned or that the prince would have a reason to poison her in the first place. Assuming he knew of her power, he had to know that such a trick wouldn’t work anyway. Besides, he kept talking as if nothing was wrong.

“The world is about to become bigger than we’ve ever known.” Abandoning his chair and drink, he moved closer to sit right by her side. Despite the problems the Two Kingdoms could be facing, he almost seemed excited. “Whether or not Ebott gets left behind is solely up to us. We’ve been isolated for far too long, but the future is ours to claim, Ferris. With you, I know we can claim it.”

If there was one thing Ferris could do, it was hold her liquor. Surely one glass of mead wouldn’t make her feel this way. It had to be one of the ingredients—which one though, and why did it only appear to bother her?

She held back a wince as Denver gently brushed a few strands of hair away from her forehead. She didn’t like it, his touch. Her heart hammered worse and her throat grew tight.

“Madame Seer, you look a bit flushed.”

Ferris swiped his hand away. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so…”  

Denver’s tone was innocent enough, which somehow made her angrier. She resolutely set her cup upon the table, refusing to drink more.

“It’s not as if we can stop progress and, given our lacking presence at sea, it will be difficult for us to risk venturing out for these new resources ourselves,” he continued where they’d left off, “So, you’re right. We must convince our neighbors that what we have to offer is more worth their while.”

“And yet you said so yourself: Other kingdoms won’t be eager to deal in magic.” Ferris was beginning to care for this conversation less and less by the second.

“Rare plants aren’t our only resource though, are they? Mt. Ebott sits upon a literal goldmine. Gold is always valuable—unless it stays buried. Now, there are plenty who would recoil at the idea of dealing with our monster brethren—I’m not naïve enough to think otherwise—but a mage… A human mage, they might be more open to negotiating with. Imagine if you and the rest of the Arnaud Guild served as that bridge, just as you’ve always served the Two Kingdoms—”

Ferris heard the tent flap open and someone barge in. “And what could you two be talking about at this hour?” Castellar’s stern voice reached her. She could tell he was trying to stay quiet. “For God’s sake… What did you do to her?”

She felt two hands grip her firmly from behind. Looking up from her own, having been cradling her aching head, she saw the skeleton standing at her back—his irises burning furiously.

“I had her sample some caocao,” the prince answered, gesturing to the drink. “It’s been quite popular lately, especially with the ladies. You’re free to try it yourself if you believe something’s wrong with it.”

“To meet a lady at this hour without a chaperone, no matter the circumstances, is inappropriate, Your Highness,” he barked, “For the sake of everyone’s reputation, including your own, I highly suggest you think before you act—"

“Enough, Cas!” Ferris shouted, reaching to grab one of the hands on her shoulders, almost pleading with him as her headache persisted, “I agreed to speak with him. That’s my fault, so please just drop it from here.”

The skeleton’s fierce glare turned on her and immediately faltered. What had that drink done to her, what face was she making right now, to douse his fury so readily? Ferris knew she was in for a nagging in the near future. For the time being though, she felt a strange sense of safety in his presence. A part of her almost wanted to cry: Whether it was out of frustration or shame, she couldn’t explain.

“We were just about through anyway. There’s nothing to argue over,” she insisted, repeating, “So please drop it, Cas. I just want to go back to the tent and sleep.”

Castellar’s brows furrowed. He was silent for a long time before his grip shifted around one of her wrists and he tugged Ferris out of her seat. “The Arnaud Guild will be sending an official complaint to your father, the king,” he said, “Please behave in a manner befitting your title going forward. Goodnight, Your Highness.”

Her senses weren’t so muddled that she couldn’t walk on her own. As they exited the tent, the young woman noticed that the knights stationed nearby were kneeling on the ground. She felt the remnants of blue magic in the air.

Prince Denver called after them, “If the caocao really did anything, I do apologize for it! I hope she feels better with some rest. Goodnight, Madame Ferris. Goodnight, Cas.”

Once again, Ferris couldn’t have been more grateful that they didn’t stumble into anyone else on the way back to their own tent. After they were inside, Castellar didn’t waste a second to lift her off her feet, dump her on her bed, and fetch her a glass a water, grumbling the entire time.

“Glutton,” he fumed, “You moronic, insatiable glutton…”

Feeling the cup shoved into her hands, she was more tempted to dump its entire contents over her head than she was to drink it.

“I knew you were taking too long,” the skeleton continued to rant, “I just never imagined you’d land yourself into such trouble in so short a time—”

His furious pacing was cut off by a tug at his shirt. Ferris held the hem of it without looking at him. The frustrated, shameful tears she’d held back earlier tried to spring forth against her will.

"I can jump back to before I ran into him if you think it'll be a problem."

Much like before, her words silenced him. Castellar took a deep breath, shook himself free from her hold, then dragged over a chair. “No… No, I don’t think you did anything damaging enough to go that far,” he seemed to bite his own, nonexistent tongue as he sat down, “You didn’t do anything, it’s just—! That shouldn’t be necessary.”    

"Madame Valda taught me how to go back to the past without having to die," she told him. Just because he knew about her power didn’t mean he understood its full limitations. She suspected Tobius and Valda had no reason to explain to him what she could do in-depth.  

"Even so, it puts no small strain on your body, doesn't it?"

Ferris didn't have an answer for that. Valda had warned her so heavily against abusing and overusing her ability that she was too anxious to experiment with it. For better or worse, she hadn't yet found an opportunity to try that method.  Only every now and then, in her deepest meditations, did she even explore the possibility—and only so she could use it properly when the moment came. 

"It's not necessary," he repeated, "Such powerful magic doesn't come without a cost. You don't need to wield it at every perceived mistake."

“If there’s rumors that His Highness and I were intimate—"

“If Prince Denver knows what’s good for them, there won’t be,” he practically growled, “Nothing happened and no one else is up and about to have seen you two together. If people feel like gossiping, they would more likely spread rumors about us sharing a tent.”

“Us?” she snorted, easing up a little, “A human and a skeleton? By what logic would you even have a—?”

No sooner had that question appeared upon her lips, Ferris realized she didn’t want it answered. The water did nothing. She felt her face grow hotter and buried herself in her blankets.

“I’ll keep the lantern on until I think you’ve truly cooled off,” she heard him say, followed by ruffle of book pages, “You said you wanted to sleep, so try to sleep.”

Chapter 48

More difficult than enduring the previous night's events was pretending that they didn't happen. When Ferris awoke the next morning, she refused to step around the wooden screen that divided the tent until Castellar did so first. After massaging her scalp with a poultice to chase away her fading headache and suffering through an awkward breakfast, she joined him in an early walk through the camp to get a better read of the envoys.  

Now that most of them had set up their own campsites, they were beginning to mingle. Not all of their neighbors were allies with one other, although they found it easier to tolerate each other over their hosts. It was impossible for Ferris to ignore the eyes that followed her and Castellar around, inspecting the two of them just as fervently.

"Don't assume that all of them mean harm by it," Castellar mumbled only for her ears, "Some of them have likely never seen a mage or monster before. They're curious."

Undoubtedly, there was that, but Ferris nevertheless struggled to shrug off their gazes. Part of it was because of what had happened with the crown prince and part of it was that fact that she couldn't know their full intentions. It wasn't as if they were walking through a street full of strangers all going about their own business. Every individual was there with the same purpose that conflicted with another’s.

There was a story about of one the first Meeting of Olives where several of the envoys at the time secretly joined together to stage an attack. Against the united efforts of the Two Kingdoms’ own forces, they'd failed, but their sheer numbers had nearly overwhelmed the Ebottians. It was a wonder that the biannual summit had continued after that. 

If Prince Denver's words were true, then the present envoys were all likely eager to see Ebott taken down a peg as well.  The Two Kingdoms took pride in the fact that they'd successfully repelled army after army over the course of their history and had enjoyed sitting at arguably the best seat at the bargaining table for equally as long.  If any of their representatives revealed how nervous they were now that that position was threatened, their rivals would smugly take full advantage of that weakness. It wasn't too different from how a group of children would act when a playmate that constantly beat them in games finally lost.

Ferris noticed a few individuals with distinct eye colors among both the envoys and their security. The color may not have necessarily meant that they wielded magic, but it was a strong indicator that they at least had the potential to. She would've thought little of the blue and cyan, or even green and orange eyes, that peered at them from the crowd. However, she also spotted one or two crimson pairs as well. Even within Ebott's borders, that brilliant red color earned some the nickname of 'demon eyes,' so she could only imagine what others went through beyond the safety of the mountain. They and their purple counterparts didn't exactly blend in with other humans as some could...

Especially if they're nobles. To live, they'd likely have to spend the whole of their lives in hiding, treated as stains of or made prisoners by their families. Perhaps her initial guess that some were here for potential marriage talks wasn't too off the mark. If wedded off or sent to study in Ebott, those individuals would certainly find more freedom even if they continued to face some challenges.

“I wonder if we’ll end up leaving with one or two new recruits for the guild,” she mused aloud.

Following her gaze, Castellar squinted in distaste at the idea, “I hope not. They’d likely bring about more trouble than they’d be worth.”

“Aren’t you speaking from experience?”

“Yes, the experience of already having one crimson mage rattle my nerves daily.”

The bells of the Citrine Abbey echoed in the distance, signaling an early hour of prayer. Ferris took a moment to listen to its steady toll. She found that the sound had a calming effect on her, as though the bell was instructing her to brace herself for the work ahead of them.

“Do what you can to remember their faces,” Castellar instructed, not taking his attention off the crowd, “It’s unlikely that we’ll indulge in more than cursory introductions later.”

She hated that he made a good point, given how daunting their numbers were. She felt confident enough to remember all of the names of all of the Two Kingdoms’ representatives. Remembering who all of the foreign envoys were would be trickier—and she hadn’t had the same chance to prepare. 

“Is it really necessary?” the young woman couldn’t help but complain, “Except for bridging things between everyone on our own side, our role here is minimal at best.”

“How active a part we play here is irrelevant. We too represent Ebott and have to make the best possible impression. We cannot allow our rivals to think less of us.” 

She wished he wasn’t such a stickler for formalities; however, she supposed at least one of them had to be. They had enough going against them. The handful of Boss Monsters now milling about did more to scare the other representatives than try to get along with them. On the opposite extreme, there was the Human Kingdom’s clueless crown prince and a Temmie practically running between people’s legs to greet each and every stranger. 

The pair saw Queen Toriel from afar, who was also out on a walk of her own with one of the envoys—each with a guard following a few steps behind them. Although there was no hiding her towering figure, she wore a gentle smile and moved with a slow, purposeful gait that portrayed a mild manner. Every action was calm and controlled, like that of a horse trainer trying to soothe a wild colt. Whatever she was saying to them, she seemed to be winning them over from what little the mages could tell. 

"At least there's someone here we shouldn't have to worry about."

It was almost astounding how different the queen was from her husband. While King Asgore could put up a decent act, there was no telling how the envoys would respond to his hearty 'howdy' and it was terrifying to think of what an innocent person like him might agree to. Ferris briefly wondered why Asgore hadn't come along himself. It was unlikely that he wanted to send his newly-wedded wife on a job on her own. Then again, it wasn't as though they could afford to leave the throne empty for a lengthy period either, not for something like this. The seer could just imagine his retainers trying to hold him back. 

An ambassador from one of Ebott's northern neighbors was waiting for them when they circled back to their tent. He was a weaselly-looking fellow with a groomed moustache that practically curled into his nostrils. Joined by his attendants, he'd come to distribute a few 'gifts.' They were small samples of goods that Ferris didn't recognize—likely all from the new world, based on the inclusion of that godforsaken caocao. There were also dried leaves that were meant to be smoked; brown sticks that had a sweet, pleasing scent; and some kind of spiky fruit that the young woman wasn't entirely sure was edible just from glancing at it. 

It was too early to decipher whether it was an attempt to brag or a bribe. Probably both. Castellar politely accepted the gift. No sooner had the ambassador left, his features shifted into a conflicted expression. Ferris could almost see the gears turning in his head as he contemplated the implications of these new resources. He took them inside the tent and set them on the table.

The final envoy arrived in the evening, just like Castellar had predicted. Official business was postponed until the next morning, although that didn't stop anyone from trying to jump ahead of their competition. Overhearing some of the conversations had during the light welcoming banquet, Ferris learned a few of the more prominent representatives were gifted pearls among the other luxuries. Again though, this didn’t really impress her or the skeleton, since there were certain monsters who had no trouble fetching them from out of Ebott’s own waters—not to mention those that could produce pearls themselves.

Their concerns all circled back to how much of Ebott’s bargaining power could be lost as interest in this new world grew. As self-sufficient as Ebott was overall, they weren’t without want either. The Two Kingdoms had local herbs that could compete with the spice trade internally, but that never fully satisfied the desire for pepper or ginger. Not all crops or cattle could be raised in the mountain terrain that covered most of their land. A lot of wool was imported. The Ebottians traded precious stones for certain ores and lumbers that were less common within their borders.

To their credit, not a single representative from Ebott allowed their confidence to be shaken. Any attempted provocation was met with an assured look. The ambassadors spoke to one another no differently than gamblers in a game of cards, each keeping their hands hidden while debating their next play.

Ferris was stunned to see how well Prince Denver carried himself throughout the discussions. Aside from keeping a friendly demeanor, he acted nothing like the hassle that had bothered her for as long as she’d known him. He was professional, never overstepping or allowing alone to look down on him or the kingdom he led. Maybe the previous night’s incident had finally jarred some sense into him, or maybe he was just too busy with the foreign envoys to trouble her in-particular.

She had mixed feelings over seemingly being the only one left embarrassed by what had happened…

A part of her hoped that Castellar’s threat to report it to King Gerard was an empty one. It wasn’t that Ferris didn’t think Prince Denver deserved it; however, she worried of it doing more harm than good. So long as the incident didn’t repeat itself, she was perfectly content to keep it off-record—no less than any other conflict that the guild found necessary to hide.  

Chapter 49

As the days of negotiations wore on, Ferris felt more and more like her soul was trying to leave her body... 

She'd expected things to be bad, she just didn't expect it to be this bad: The endless droning of politics and backhanded niceties wrapped up in fluffy words. Ferris quickly tired of the suffocating dinners and empty conversations, every day wanting nothing more than for the representatives to get to the point instead of wasting hours on social swordplay. She was bored, she was irritated, and she very much wanted to go home to work on things that she actually cared about.

At least she had a chair. She and Castellar sat in-between the Human and Monster Kingdoms’ ambassadors on the Ebottian's side of a long table. Rarely did they speak, only doing so when asked questions or if they felt the need to intervene whenever the conversations grew heated. It took a herculean amount of effort for her not to fall asleep during the lulls. 

The young woman marveled at how her guildmate could keep his own head up for so long. At the moment, they were speaking with the envoys from the north and south on opening a more direct line of travel through Ebott. It wasn't going well.

"You plan to increase the tolls by that much?" questioned the weaselly man they'd met early on, vexed, "You can’t be serious.”

Prince Denver maintained a pleasant tone as he argued back, "Surely the cost of a meager toll is far less than the traveling expenses so many of your merchants have been paying to go around Ebott."

“I’d hardly call it meager!” he harrumphed. Still, that was the best the envoy could say against it. He’d probably thought that his play with the gifts would make the Two Kingdoms’ representatives a little more willing—or more desperate—to accept certain terms.

Indeed, increasing tolls along their major roads was a bold move, but it would be foolish to not use the enticement of the shorter, straightforward trip to their advantage. It was also easier to pitch than increasing a direct tax on goods. The Ebottians weren’t about to let their eagerness to grow trade put them at a loss.

Queen Toriel spoke up next, “I must agree with the crown prince. It would be safer and more cost-efficient than taking the long way around, would it not? Please do see it from our perspective as well. We would stand little to gain by allowing your merchants to pass through our lands without doing any business in them. Nevertheless, it remains our duty to take responsibility for their safety.”

“I can’t say for sure how safe I’d feel about passing through your lands.”

Toriel kept an impassive expression at the rude comment while Egis bared his teeth in a silent growl.

Noticing this first, one of the southern envoys cleared his throat, “We don’t deny the weight it places on you, and we’ve certainly been satisfied with your hospitality. We just can’t agree on the raised fees. I’m assuming you would need to strengthen infrastructure? And what of the borders between your own kingdoms?”

Sensing as attention shifted onto himself, Castellar answered next, “The border dividing the Human and Monster Kingdoms remains secure, especially along the frequently-traveled Whistler’s Pass. Our infrastructure is sound. You’ve no cause to worry over the mountain terrain.”

Of course, that wasn’t entirely true. Ferris’ thoughts drifted to the vast stretches of wilderness, the ancient puzzles hidden throughout it, and the high number of bandits they’d hunted in the winter. Still, it wasn’t like anyone among them would admit to those facts. The plan was to keep travelers moving on the roads that ran through key towns while gradually improving other areas to the East and West.  

Denver sweetened the offer, “Documents of safe conduct will be provided as well—at no charge.”

For now, the seer could practically here everyone on their side of the table add in mute unison. It was another strategy the Ebottians had agreed on in early discussions. Such documents were critical to merchants, nevermind the preciousness of one from a sovereign—or rather two sovereigns and the leaders of a self-governed territory. They guaranteed safe passage, be it from detainment or robbery. The Arnaud Guild had even relented to temporarily lowering the cost of escort requests. They hoped that those who feared ‘the mountain teeming with mages and monsters’ might be won over by a written promise. After the first round of merchants grew accustomed to moving through their lands, more would naturally follow.

The southern envoy’s eyes gleamed a bit and he looked to Queen Toriel for confirmation of the crown prince’s words. She nodded, although Egis and a few of Ebott’s other representatives were still less than satisfied with the idea.

After going back-and-forth at it for a long while, the delegation eventually agreed to slightly lower the new tolls in exchange for other nations keeping low costs on a handful of regularly imported resources. By then, it was mid-afternoon and they decided to stall further talks for yet another day.

The two Arnaud mages were running low on fresh food. While the sun was still up, they walked together down from the Gardens to the village below to collect their next batch of supplies.

The Citrine Abbey towered over the tiny shops and cottages that encompassed it, yet, compared to the Gardens, it looked far too humble for its name. It was an old complex and it lacked the stained glass and other adornments seen in many religious houses of the age. It had only one steeple that stood proudly before the forest background. The most impressive thing about it was its church’s main doors, which were an astonishing five meters in height.

The village market, only a short distance away, was barely more than twenty-five paces long. The entire strip of road could be idly explored in only an hour or two. No one else from the meeting was there except for a few servants, allowing the pair to relax a little for the first time since their arrival.

Ferris’ lips slightly curled in an almost wistful expression as she took it all in.  The village’s atmosphere was similar to the Boroughs. Similar, though certainly not the same. While both humans and monsters resided here, most of them weren’t families. A good portion of them were trusted vassals of their respected courts—placed to keep those from the opposing kingdom in-check. Maybe there was some truth to the peace between them, but it was one largely bound by mutual need and a respect for their shared tasks: The precarious peace of coworkers, not true companions.

No matter how tenderly they looked after the Garden, many of them would not plant their own roots here. After their tenure was through, they would leave for some new assignment or settle elsewhere. Unlike those from the abbey, they had no real loyalty to the land. Unlike those from the Boroughs, the trust they could extend to their neighbors was limited and any kind of devoted relationship between them would certainly be forbidden.

Still, it was a calming, close-knit atmosphere. What few children there were chased one other across the dirt paths and, at each market stall, there was more friendly talking than shopping done. Ferris and Castellar tried to disturb the villagers as little as possible, content to people-watch. The young woman only took a few minutes to buy some woven bands and a couple of wood carved amulets to give to the others back home.

“You don’t have to always buy souvenirs.” Castellar peered at the trinkets before she stuffed them inside the pouch at her waist.

“I like to,” she replied, unbothered. It didn’t feel fair that she was able to journey across Ebott while her sister remained largely confined to the Boroughs. Ferris also got a certain joy from it: From the way Ciara’s and Gwen’s eyes twinkled upon receiving a rare treat, or from the company of her guildmates as they shared a regional brew, or from Gourdita’s promise to let her sample a new dish when she gave the plant monster a new herb or seasoning to try out.

“I thought you were still the same girl who dove after lost coins under tables.”

“Who says I’m not?” she raised a brow at him with a smirk, “I can have fun shopping and still be frugal.”

Some nicer amulets caught her eye, which were crafted from various metals. There were a couple types of plain lockets as well. One of them was made from silver and she sensed a small enchantment from it.

Silver lockets worked differently from their guild talismans. Although they both retained a little bit of a person’s magic, their designs were much simpler. Once the locket was opened, that magic could be drawn out. Sometimes, the lockets were sentimental, giving the wearer a warm feeling that the loved one whose magic was contained inside would always be with them: Other times, they were practical, able to contain minor spells for the wearer’s protection. Ferris never personally wanted one, but she could admire the craftsmanship.  

A rather young nun rushed out of the abbey to greet them when they circled back to get their supplies. The human girl looked to be about fifteen; had unique, cat-like pupils; and was shaking like a leaf as she stepped up to them and confirmed their identities. Although she pretty much shoved the basket of fruits and vegetables into Ferris’ arms, she was in no rush to pull herself away.

“Thank you…?” the seer muttered, trying to hide her uncertainty. When the adolescent stayed where she was and refused to lift her head, Ferris took a second glance inside the basket. There was a folded note tucked between a bundle of yellow carrots. Discovering it almost at the same moment, Castellar casually sidestepped around to help block the girl from the distant crowd—just in case someone was watching them.

With a bit of effort, she managed to stutter out, “B-bless the work of the Arnaud Mages Guild…”

Then, in an instant, she just left. Even with her back turned to them, it was clear that she was fighting to keep her composure. She held her hands in front of her as she walked, unable to go at anything but a brisk pace like someone on the run.

What was this about? Ferris’ brows furrowed. As far as she knew, the guild had no connections with any church outside of the Boroughs. It didn’t make sense that they would pass along a message from their guildmates. Tobius would’ve sent a bird or a spider.

It couldn’t hurt to read it. After sharing a look, the two mages ducked under the shade of some nearby trees. They sat down, pretending to rest, and Ferris subtly unfolded the note upon her lap. The message didn’t go over ten words:

“Back of the chapter house. Fifteen minutes.”

It was short, direct, and woefully vague. A couple minutes had already passed. Who exactly wanted to meet them and what for?  Ferris ruled out most of the people from the delegation. There were less roundabout ways for them to request a meeting. The short note also carried a sense of urgency.

They couldn’t rule out the chance of it being a trap, although the young woman couldn’t begin to imagine what the trap was for if their enemies were going to strike in broad daylight and in a house of God, risking divine wrath on top of showing their hand. It sounded more like a cry for help.

She and Castellar quietly agreed to play along. They waited until the fifteen minutes were almost over and they were sure that no one was looking before marching toward the chapter house. When were arrived at the back of it, the girl who had delivered the message was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a monk closer to their own age. He was just as fidgety as he urged them to follow him inside the building, through a couple of hallways, and to the door of a private prayer room.

“Not yet,” he kept mumbling in answer to their questions. He stayed tight-lipped and hung back as the pair braced themselves to walk into the room. They both gave him another hard stare that he avoided, glancing nervously down the passages. They weren’t the only guests inside the abbey right then. A couple of the more devote envoys were likely paying a visit. Whatever he wanted to say clearly couldn’t be said in front of them. He took a pointed step forward and nodded again toward the door.

The room was a mess. Books and rosary beads were scattered across the floor, along with thick globs of some cold porridge. A table and chair had been knocked over. As Ferris and Castellar slipped inside, watching each other’s blind spots, they found a lone figure huddling in the darkest corner. It seemed intent on avoiding the light, squeezing itself into a ball to keep away from the sunbeams pouring in from the tall window nearby.

However, when it noticed them, it immediately sprang up like a wild animal caught off-guard. There was something very wrong with its movements. It faltered and fumbled on its two legs like a drunk at sea. Its torso jerked in one direction, then immediately spun in the other as it faced the mages. It emitted a choked noise like someone trying to yell who was swiftly shut up.

The more Ferris adjusted to the room’s lighting, the more details she noticed. Its arms were abnormally long, dragging the floor and covered in spines. It had tusks and no neck, its head having a squished shape. Its eyes were shaky and young, fat tears rolling down its mottled cheeks. Its striped scarf of mismatched colors was torn.

Ferris didn’t really need to check, but she did anyway. This hulking creature that was almost as tall at her skeletal companion was not just a young monster. There were two children in the room with them.

Chapter 50

It took a while to calm the children down. Although Ferris wasn’t sure that they understood the full weight of their situation, they understood the consequences of it. If anyone else had found them, if they hadn’t been clever enough to run to the abbey in secret and if its monks and nuns weren’t inclined to keep it so, they likely would’ve been executed. Really, the fact that they had made it to the abbey without being spotted was a miracle.

“They found their way here late in the night,” the monk explained, “Their home was attacked and the human child died. That’s the most we could get out of them.”

It wasn’t only hard to draw information out of the two because they were scared or traumatized. They couldn’t get in-sync. Two strings of thought climbed over one another, but few words actually came out: There was only one incomprehensive voice of stuttering cries and strangled sobs. The more they fought to speak and couldn't, the more distressed they became—making things worse.

The monk eventually calmed the pair down enough for Ferris to convince them to let her flip a coin to decide on what turns they’d speak. “What are your names?”

The first child hesitated, “…Sasha.”

The second followed after in a somewhat louder, but nevertheless shaky tone, “Ch--ches…!”

“And where are you from?” The Citrine Garden was a fairly isolated place. There were people that lived along the nearby river, but the next town was too far away for them to have travelled on foot in a single night, especially in their current state.

Their voice continued to fluctuate, “We’re not… We’re not s’posed to tell…!”

Ferris had a strong suspicion thar there was something more to their reluctance than a fear of strangers. She glanced at the monk, but they hadn’t told him either, despite trusting the abbey enough to come here to begin with. They were likely from some hidden band of runaways not too dissimilar from Gurda and Kobalt’s.

Not so hidden anymore… The timing couldn’t have been worse. Nevermind the danger to their own safeties: If any of the envoys discovered them or what had brought them here, the entire negotiations could be at risk. The sight of a soul-fueled monster would reinforce all of the fears outsiders had about Ebott and, even if anyone believed their story, it was a tale that would only showcase the fragile peace that held the Two Kingdoms together.

There was no surefire way to keep them from being discovered. If they were dealing with two separate children, they could throw some robes over them and disguise them as orphans living in the abbey. As they were, even if no one paid attention to their disturbing behavior and appearance, all it would take is a simple check to detect the presence of two souls in one body.

“There’s not much we can do right now,” Castellar murmured with his fingers pressed against his temple. He looked the children in the eye, his gaze sympathetic although his voice remained stern, “Sasha, Ches… whoever this body belongs to… I know that you were only trying to protect your friend, but—”

“No!”

“—you need to let them go,” despite their protests and how clearly they knew what had to be done, the skeleton persisted, “for both of your sakes.”

“Whatever the intent, clinging to the dead rarely comes without consequence.”

The words that Castellar had said long ago rang in the seer’s mind now. There was no good outcome to leaving them like this. Even if they successfully managed to flee from anyone that would harm them further, they would be doomed to a fate of constant turmoil. Never again would they know the luxuries of privacy or silence. Their actions would never completely be their own. Conflicting memories would forever haunt them. If one mind didn’t gradually consume the other in a battle for dominance, both would gradually wear down from the blend of consciouses until they no longer recognized themselves—body or mind. And when the long-suppressed soul decided that it wanted out…

“No, no, n-no…! I c-can’t!” one of the children managed to yell, shaking their head, before slipping back into uncontrolled breaths. They’d already cried so much that the tears no longer came. They moved away, hugging their chest protectively. Their grief was still fresh. No amount of reasoning or warning of future pain was going to convince them.

As much as Ferris agreed with Castellar, she had other concerns. She pulled him aside, “Let me sneak them out.”

“And risk us getting caught aiding fugitives?” he balked, “Dragging down the guild’s reputation as well? I know you want to help them, but I think not!”

“There’s a chance they’re not the only survivors. Others could rush here and cause just as much of a scene. I can stop the attack from ever occurring in the first place. I just need details.”

She could go ahead and make the jump back in time, but without any concrete information, she wouldn’t know what to do. Ferris needed to know exactly when and where the attack took place, and how to best prepare for it. Trying to take a peek into the two children’s past would only give her their limited perspective of what happened. Resetting too soon would essentially wipe that history from her view completely—lest she just sit back and wait for the same events to play out. By far the easiest solution was to investigate the scene herself.

Castellar grimaced in thought, then he asked her in a soft voice, “When did you last save?”

That morning. In other words, long after the attack took place. This would not be a normal reset.

Ferris feared what volumes her silence would say, so she answered instead with, “I think I’ll be fine. It’s not like it’s a big jump.”

It was painfully obvious that Castellar wasn’t convinced, which was why she could hardly believe it when he bended, “Alright. Do what you must. I’ll come up with some excuse for your absence.”

Ferris nodded, resisting the urge to remind him that covering her would do no good if she when back in time. This was possibly the most docile he’d ever acted toward her on a job and she wasn’t about to ruin it. The faint trace of a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth, despite the circumstances.

As far as the children and the monk were informed, Ferris intended to bring them back to their people. They flipped a coin a second time to settle which of the two kids would take the lead. Before Ferris could suggest that they wait for the blanket of nightfall, the monk guided them swiftly and soundlessly through the halls of the abbey.

They entered a dim, dusty section of the main building with few windows. They went through one door, then another, and arrived in a long, narrow room that Ferris assumed was primarily used for storage—given the stacks of crates packed against the walls. The monk wound his way over to the far end of it and pressed his hand against an inconspicuous brick. The bottom of the wall shifted and part of the floor dropped, revealing a stairwell that released a dank scent.

“This passage was built years ago, back when the Meeting of Olives was first established. It was meant to be used as an escape route in emergencies.”

Ferris bristled at the cold air that washed over her as she moved toward the stairs. The passage welcomed her with a deep, cavernous moan. It was too dark to see very far ahead. The monk offered her an unused torch, but Ferris waved away his offer to use her own magic to light the way instead.

“Try to be careful. You are bound to come across more than one or two active puzzles down there.”

Of course there are puzzles…  She swallowed her frustration and thanked him for his help.

She had to duck to make her way inside the passage. The children didn’t immediately follow, shuffling nervously at the top of the steps. They flinched as Castellar gripped their shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze before nudging them to follow after the seer.

“Stick close to me,” she told them, offering her own hand like an anchor. Much to her relief, they took it.

The two mages’ eyes met as the monk dipped out of sight. The walls rumbled once more as the way back began to close. There were no well wishes that they needed to extend, so confident were they in the other’s abilities. Nevertheless, they held that stare—as though to assuage whatever dread they both felt toward this sharp turn of events and the isolated roles they now had to take on—until the passage sealed with a final clack.

---

“Straight is the gate and narrow is the way, and few there be that find it.” The clue was inscribed on a plaque at the bottom of the steps. It was a perfectly fitting one for an abbey, even if Ferris couldn’t help but inwardly wince at the possible meaning of its second half.

The stairs led them down, down, down—deeper than Ferris could’ve imagined. Noticing the smooth walls give way to rough stone, she believed that the passage wasn’t fully manmade so much as repurposed from yet another one of Ebott’s many cave systems. They would need to keep an eye out for natural pitfalls as well as traps.

At least there was no danger of running into anyone. Clouds of long undisturbed dust coiled around their feet as they walked and the air was almost suffocatingly stale. No one had been this way in a long while; maybe the passage had never even been used since it was first carved. In any case, the group was able to move at a comfortable pace without worry. Ferris split her magic into a haze of floating bullets, brightening the space around them further and easing her charges as they looked for constellations in her artificial stars.

Straight is the gate and narrow is the way. The seer thought it better to take the clue’s meaning literally. They hadn’t gone far from the stairs when the path began to split into threes. There was no clear distinction between them, each emitting the same drone that had called to them when they entered. Ferris cautiously chose the middle tunnels and kept an eye out for any hint of danger.

“I’m scared…” The fingers that circled her own tightened. She couldn’t guess which of the two children had said that.

“We’ll be ok.”

“They killed everyone.”

Ferris didn’t exactly know how to comfort them. She could imagine the horrors that played back in their minds, and the stars she’d made weren’t enough to distract them from those memories. Staying busy had always been her personal remedy for bad thoughts. She tried giving them a task of their own, “Do either of you like puzzles? Why don’t you both help me look for more clues?”

There wasn’t a response, so Ferris just had to assume they agreed to play along.

There was a growing sound of running water. The path opened up and sloped into a shallow stream—likely branching from the river on the surface. The water was cold, but not very deep: It didn’t go above the toe of her boot.

She didn’t trust how murky it was. The bed of the stream was slick and the current was faster than expected. She poked one foot out and dragged it sideways along the ground in front of her. There was an abrupt drop just to the left of her. Pebbles lined the edge of the stream and she pocketed a handful. She pulled the fused children directly behind her before she started to walk with slow, deliberate steps.

The stream was absurdly wide. Water seeped through her boots and she began to feel the direction of the current shift, its faint trinkle becoming a dull roar. The path steadily sloped back upward as the water parted on either side, where it then fell into a foggy abyss.

A natural bridge led to the other side of the chasm. Towering relief sculptures of plain soldiers eaten away by erosion and time lined the way ahead. Each wielded a dull club in its hands.

“Look!”

The young woman’s eyes followed to where the children pointed. Having zoned-in on the sculptures, she almost missed the tiny crank built into the floor only a short distance away. Ferris knelt down to give it a firm tug, and it fought against her strength before snapping in her hand. Time had gradually devoured it also. She cursed under her breath, hurling it into the falls. They would have to move forward without a failsafe.

Directing her magic ahead of them, she realized that the bridge was tiled. Clean lines divided one block from the next. Her gaze drifted back to the sculptures and she threw a few of the pebbles onto a tile directly across from one of them. Nothing happened. Perhaps the stones didn’t weigh enough to trip anything. Ordering her charge to stay still for a moment, she went ahead: She planted her foot right on the edge of the same tile and—

Whomp!

Although she dodged it, the force of the impact was almost powerful enough to topple her. Her breath caught in her throat and she’d closed her eyes without meaning to. When they fluttered open, she saw the massive club—bigger than herself—blocking the way. A minute later, it lifted off the bridge in a series of stiff jerks, recoiling into its original position.

It should have anyway. The sculpture had damaged itself in that single blow. Just before the stone club could snap back into a vertical grip, it broke at its eroded handle. The piece batted the wall as it fell into the waters far below, a loud echo drumming through the cavern. Ferris cast a worried look at the ceiling, hoping that they were far enough from the abbey that no one had heard that.

If she saw any reason to stay quiet before, she didn’t now. A solar disc formed in front of her. She could almost hear Castellar and their teachers berating her for what she was about to do, but she would let the reset clean up her mess. She sent the disc flying across the chasm, pouring more and more of her magic into it to stabilize its shape as it cut across the other sculptures. The entire chamber quaked at they broke apart, their weapons dropping into the pit just like the first.

The destruction lasted only a couple of minutes. Ferris released a soft breath and tried to ignore the continued drumming in her ears. “We should be clear,” she turned around, “Let’s keep moving.”

The young woman could’ve kicked herself at the sight of the trembling figure behind her. She should’ve known better than to have done something so careless when the kids were already frightened enough. Maybe she’d gotten too used to living with the other, reckless powerhouses in the Boroughs... As she returned to their side, she approached them as she might have a wounded lamb. She took their hand once more.

“Thank you for being brave,” she told them, “Chin up, ok? We’ll be outside again soon enough.”

Chapter 51

The rest of passage repeated in a similar way to the puzzles they'd already come across. The final puzzle wasn't as dreadful as Ferris might've worried about. Instead of forcing them to evade a potentially deadly trap, all they needed to do was fix a different relief sculpture set within a door in order to unlock it. The shape of the sculpture wasn't anything grand, but it was a design that only meant anything to an Ebottian: A six-petaled, golden flower.   

Most golden flowers only had five petals, but sometimes, one with a sixth could bloom. These were regarded the same way that four-leaf clovers were in other lands, treated as tokens of safety and good luck. To some people, the flower's symbolism of home extended to that of cherished devotion, be it to their country or to their loved ones. They decorated certain heraldry, could be exchanged at weddings, and were considered great honors bestowed to the dead. Outsiders with no connection to the pattern would likely take some time figuring out how to piece it together. 

It only took Ferris a short moment, and she was relieved that this puzzle was intact unlike so many other obstacles that safeguarded the passage. She would need to report its dilapidated state to someone later. 

The hidden door was almost stuck shut. Clumps of dirt and moss fell as the young woman opened it. The shimmer of early sunset pierced through the darkness and a wave of fresh, pine-scented air tickled her nose. The way out deposited her and the children among a cluster of tors deep within a raised forest. Circling the rock formation they'd exited from, she could see the steeple of the abbey in the distance. Looking in the other direction, toward the river, she could just make out the top of an ancient, unfinished aqueduct—left to ruin mid-construction centuries ago after the Ebottians had successfully chased out those who were working on it.  

The kids had calmed down a lot, and Ferris believed she had managed to earn a bit of their trust during their brief adventure underground. She turned to them again, kneeling below eye-level as if pleading with them, "I really need you to show me the way back to your home. Do either of you know where to go from here?" 

She wouldn't force them to talk. Nevertheless, with their hand still latched around her own, Ferris was prepared to skim through their memories if she had to.    

The children considered her words for a long while before giving her a reluctant nod. They opened their mouth, hesitated a second longer, then spoke, "The sun sets West... Keep i-it just behind your shoulder."

Northwest. Unsurprisingly, that led deeper into the wilds. Thinking back on the guild's maps, Ferris believed there were some abandoned mines that way. It made sense if a band of runaways had repurposed such a site. 

The children hadn't had the chance to get any proper rest since fleeing their home. The seer didn't want to push them too hard, so she kept to their pace. There was also the trouble that finding one’s way back to something was often far more difficult that blindly running from it. The kids had to stop regularly, both to catch their breath and when they completely stilled in moments of indecision. They were gradually getting used to their shared body though, and it seemed that the power boost granted from the absorbed soul had increased their stamina as well. 

When they reached the fallen community, the moon was suspended in the heart of sky. The entrance to the mine rested at the bottom of a gill with a small creek. What few buildings were still standing from the mine’s active days appeared to have been left to rot at least a decade ago; however, squirrel traps and well-trodden paths into the woods indicated that someone did—or had—lived here. If there had ever been a proper trail connecting it to some greater road, it had long been consumed by the forest, the funnel of the gill outlining only a vague mouth. It wasn’t the most secret of locations, but the foliage did act as some cover.

Ches and Sasha kept back, refusing to take another step toward the scene. Ferris didn’t blame them. She had a certain idea of what to expect. The pair took shelter by the sprawling roots of a willow tree as she headed further in.

Death tainted the atmosphere—not in any shocking ways that others could immediately recognize or even in the stillness that would already fill an abandoned place, but in the subtle scents of chalk and burning and the eerie foreboding that trickled down the back of her neck. Bits and pieces of the tragedy appeared at the seer’s feet: A tipped basket of wild plants, a worn doll with its face in the dirt, a bundle of clothes left soaking at the edge of the creek, all signs of a people caught unawares when desolation came.

Ferris watched it play out. A young, pregnant human woman and an adolescent not too far from adulthood herself did their washing. While the latter was bipedal and had a humanish face, she also possessed several features similar to a moth or a bird. A merrow man snuck up behind them. He captured the woman around the waist and she jumped, her lips turning upward in a startled smile as he buried his head in the crook of her neck. She laughed, smacking him lightly in the bicep before he let go.  

There was a scream. The trio all turned their gaze toward the mouth of the gill. Silence fell over the small community at the noise. A moment later, a gelatinous mass of a monster scrambled through the undergrowth, throwing itself against a tree trunk in their panic. Their form quaked in an unstable manner. They took a breath, a shout rippling through them only to be cut off by the swing of a mace from behind. Twisting around at the middle, they launched a late beam of noxious bubbles at their attacker in a last bid for survival only to slip into the creek—their body slowly dissolving into dust.

At first, all that anyone could do was stare at what remained of their murdered neighbor in disbelief. The attacker, a middle-aged man with blisters under one eye, stepped forward. There was a deep red smear coating his leather breastplate. More figures emerged from the undergrowth: A whole party of what seemed to be bandits, all humans. Despite their mismatched and worn attire, they were a heavily armed lot and each of their weapons was of exceptional craft.

Ferris didn’t have to watch the full massacre to understand how it could’ve happened. The natural walls of the gill that shielded the area from view had also bottlenecked those who lived within it. They made the mistake of leaving themselves only one good path of escape—a path that had immediately blocked.

The seer picked up other visions during her inspection. The merrow had shoved his lover away, yelling for her to run, and was one of the first to fight back only to be swiftly outnumbered. A teenage boy had tried darting up a ladder to climb out of the gill, but wasn’t even halfway up the rungs before he was yanked down by his leg and bludgeoned in the skull. Others ran to the mines, around the perimeter of the camp, whichever way they could to try to stay alive.

The door of one of the repurposed buildings was slightly ajar. Ferris’ chest tightened at the scene that awaited her. Something hissed from the shadows within before the lithe shape of a marten fled past her. It was not the only opportunistic creature seeking to feed. Bugs swarmed the room, flooding a pot with some indiscernible mash that had been left to waste and covering four bodies of various size that lay mangled on the ground. One of them—one of the smallest—was practically gutted. The others were missing flesh, torn apart by iron barbs and weasel teeth.

It didn’t look like much of anything had been taken. Had these people even had anything worth taking?

Ferris almost felt sick. The carnage didn’t bother her: Its familiarity did. She backed out of the door and took a minute to clear her head in the night air before scouting the area further.

There were more bodies. She didn’t see many piles of dust, but wind and water could’ve easily carried off those remains. It didn’t seem like very many runaways had lived here to begin with, so Ferris wasn’t sure how many could have survived.

The part of her that looked back on all that she had been taught, all that she had been warned against, whispered that perhaps things were better off left alone. It was normal for people who died to stay dead, and who was she to play God? And now that the children had been safely escorted away from the eyes of the envoys, if nothing else threatened the negotiations, then what did this attack matter in the grand scheme of things? How did the lives of a handful of runaways—who were already as good as dead to the Two Kingdoms—measure against the guild’s reputation or an international conference? For all her power, it wasn’t as if Ferris could be in two places at once. Castellar was right. Was the risk of getting caught aiding fugitives worth saving them?

However, Madame Valda and the others at Arnaud’s hadn’t just taught her to be careful. They taught her to care. If I can’t save anyone, then what is this hell even for? Her ability made it her duty to spend the rest of her days as a ready sacrifice, but for what?  What was she supposed to protect?!

Ferris wiped her face as she raised it up to the sky, feeling a renewed sense of conviction. Burning crimson shown against the pale blue moonlight. This horror would indeed be scrubbed from the annals of history, but it would be done her way.

She reached for the depths of her magic and soon found herself adrift in that terrible, blinding place of endless boxes and runes… She’d given up trying to make sense of them almost immediately after Valda had introduced them to her. Ferris knew she could do what she pleased with them though—will them into whatever arrangement she needed in order to go when and where she wanted along the knotted threads that marked the course of her lifespan.

It hurt like hell, as if the world itself cursed her for breaking its rules. Called her a cheater. It threatened to tear her apart down to the last particle of her being, and after she brute forced her way through that mind-splitting sensation… There was calm.

RESET

Chapter 52

She was back in the Citrine Garden. It had been so long since Ferris had needed to use her ability that the jump stunned her, leaving her as frozen as the statues that looked down at her from their pedestals nearby.

Since the Meeting of Olives began, Ferris had made sure to visit the save point here at least twice a day: Once in the early morning and later in the evening. It was morning, the sky washed in pale shades of yellow and indigo. She remembered looking up at that same sky the previous—no, current—day. It wasn’t a large window of time to work with, but hopefully it would be enough.

There was one thing that Ferris didn’t remember: The taste of iron sliding to her lips. She swiped at the moisture with her fingers and found them tinted crimson. A nosebleed.

Overexertion. If this was the worst of consequences she had to face for using forbidden magic, then she considered herself extremely lucky. Granted, all she'd done was leap back to the moment she'd saved before the last, but that alone had forced her to use an excessive amount of power. She didn't know if there would be any other physical side effects—there had always been a limit to that since the day she'd inherited her ability. After this whole mess was over, she'd get a good rest and leave everything else to hope. 

Ferris pulled out a handkerchief. This could actually be a good thing. She wasn't sure what kind of excuse Castellar might've used for her absence before her return to the past. This time, they could definitely use this to convince people that she was feeling ill or that her humors were out of balance. What few people there were milling about the flowered paths at that hour, she made sure to let them see the blood. Thankfully, the abbey seemed to be on their side, so if anyone was sent to check on her, they'd likely help cover for her. 

Castellar was standing at the table, preparing a light breakfast, when she entered their tent. 

"We'll need to fetch more food from the abbey... Help me cut these and we'll go over our strategy for the next round of negotiations." 

"We'll need to fetch more food from the abbey... Help me cut-!" 

He fell silent as he turned around and saw her bloodied nose. Before Ferris could explain anything, he stormed over to her side. His gloved fingers dug through the thin sleeves of her tunic. "Who did this?" he demanded. Once he realized that it wasn't any kind of serious injury, he looked past her shoulder toward the tent flap and instead asked, "What's happening out there?" 

The intensity of the skeleton's concern jarred her. She had to capture his arm to keep him from venturing out of the tent then and there, "Nothing's happened yet." 

Yet. That single word made him freeze. His full attention returned to her. She kept the recount of events brief, summarizing their would-be meeting with Sasha and Ches and the potential risks of letting the attack on the runaways occur as history intended… She neglected to mention how she’d failed to locate any other survivors for fear that he’d try to dissuade her. Castellar listened to her story without interruption.

He accepted it without an argument. Maybe it was because they were pressed for time, or maybe he did realize she was keeping one crucial detail from him and understood that there was no point in trying to talk her out of it anyway. If he couldn’t trust her judgement, then maybe he trusted his other self—the one who let her guide the children to safety. In any case, Ferris was grateful for it.

Trying to leave unnoticed in broad daylight was hard enough. Every second they waited, more people in the camp would awaken, and Ferris couldn’t risk taking her horse either. She doused herself with blue magic and charged full-speed into the forest as soon as she found an opening. It wasn’t long before she reached the end of the plateau, leaping off the edge of it and into the embrace of sturdy branches. Her Starlight Dancer technique made her feel as swift and as agile as any other creature of the trees. No, she was more of a shooting star, blazing through the woods at a breakneck pace.

And she was just as likely to burn out as one if she didn’t conserve her energy. She was already significantly mentally drained from the long night finding the runaways’ camp. Her body was rested, but her mind only knew of several hours spent walking. Her visions pinpointed the time of the attack at some point that afternoon though and perfectly retracing her steps would be a challenge.  

Ferris didn’t plan on facing the bandits in a direct fight. More accurately, she didn’t think she could afford to—not because she couldn’t best them in battle, but because of how obvious it might be that she did. She might’ve been willing to risk one or two enemies, but an entire band of them could be what finally shifted her from a LV. 3 to a LV. 4. Anyone who thought to look at her stats would spot the change. Nevertheless, there were ways around that issue.

Cycling through bursts of speed, she made it to the gill with over an hour to spare. She took the opportunity to catch her breath and take another look at the hideout from above. Its unfortunate layout aside, the humans and monsters that lived here did put some effort into protecting it. At least one person appeared to be on watch at any given point, lurking in the tall grass that covered the long-forgotten trail to the mines.

The seer could only assume that the group was discovered thanks to their own bad luck and carelessness. Even further along, the path was too overgrown for anyone who didn’t already know about it to pay it any mind. The gill was also too far from any frequented road for anyone to have easily stumbled upon it by mistake. It was more likely that someone had been followed or kidnapped and forced to reveal the hideout’s location.

Ferris briefly considered alerting them of the attack in-advance, but soon thought against it. Seer or not, for what reason would they trust a stranger’s predictions? So, she continued to wait, crouched along the cliffs that ran near the entrance. Proof would arrive soon enough. 

Around twenty more minutes passed when she saw them: Over a dozen armed bandits skulked through the foliage. Given a few more minutes, they would be right on top of the gelatinous monster keeping watch and the two adolescents foraging through the undergrowth. Ferris pulled the hood of her tunic over her head, crept above her targets, and waved her hands toward the shelf of rock surrounding her.

Twin suns manifested overhead. With a sweeping motion, they carved through the cliffside, sending a torrent of stone hurtling down at the bandits. Screams rose from under her as the seer jumped to a safer position, the magical discs humming with energy as they shattered through root and earth. A fir tree already leaning over the path collapsed in the landslide, accompanied by other saplings and shrubbery as the ground loosened further.  

Ferris didn't exactly aim to kill the bandits so much as trap them, closing off the gill from either side. If, by chance, some were buried under the rockfall... It wasn't as though she could control where each and every pebble landed and it was their own fault if they panicked and couldn't stand still.  

Two piles of rock two thirds the height of the adjacent walls soon blocked the way in. As the discs evaporated and Ferris surveyed her handiwork, the slimy watchman oozed up the wreckage. The loose footholds and thin crevices didn't bother the monster despite their size. In mere moments, they spotted her hanging back along what remained of the tree line.  

They were too dazed by the destruction to immediately act. Ferris couldn't give the slime the luxury of an introduction. Her words were short and firm, "You've been found. The best chance for you and your people to survive is to grab what you can and clear out now. Don't go toward the abbey. Make sure you aren't followed."      

The monster's gaze followed her finger to where she pointed to the groaning bodies in the newly-made pit, wriggling at the sight of the bandits below. The rockfall had taken out a few of them, others were either injured or pinned by boulders, but most of them were still alive. Ferris secretly checked her LV to make doubly sure that it hadn't increased.  

The pair of adolescents heard her as well and now stood at the base of the cliff, their eyes flickering between her and the watchman. Behind them, the undergrowth rustled as others rushed see what had caused the landslide.  

"Go!" Ferris barked in impatience. The duo jumped at her sharp tone, almost shoving one another to the ground as they hurried off. She saw them bump into a taller figure on the other side of the brush, yelling at one another before spinning back in the direction of the camp.

An acidic smell pinched her nose. Anguished shouts rose from below as Ferris turned back to watch the gelatinous monster rapidly fire wave upon wave of bubbles down at the bandits. Wherever the bubbles touched flesh, they burned, leaving painful, red marks in the place of clean tissue. No matter how well-armed the bandits were, none of their weapons were worth anything at long-range. It was as good as shooting fish in a barrel. The tables had certainly turned.

She was glad that she didn’t have to tell the runaways to clean things up before they left.

She vanished back into the cover of the treetops before anyone could think about chasing her down. Whether they’d try to take her life as well for the sake of their own safeties or just wanted to ask questions, it would do no good to reveal herself more than she already had.

As she made her retreat, Ferris only paused once to check on the evacuation. While a handful of the runaways raced to join their watchman in eradicating the last of the bandits, others scrambled up ladders, onto the roofs of the old buildings, and across the steep slopes of the gill to reach the haven of the woods above. Progress was slow, but this round, they would not have to fight for their lives as they climbed.

Ferris spotted a trio of children among the group: Two humans and a monster a little shorter than them with armored plates on his body and a spiky head that reminded the seer of a chestnut. They fretted amongst themselves before their elders called them away to help with the packing. It was the last thing that Ferris needed to see to assure herself that everything would be alright for them.

---

She was really starting to feel the weight of her exhaustion as day shifted back into night. Ferris couldn’t recall the last time she’d pushed magical reserves so far without proper rest. As such, she wasn’t as quick to return to the Citrine Garden as she had been leaving it—although she did still try to get back as soon as she could. Castellar couldn’t hide the fact that she was gone forever: Each second of delay was another second they risked getting caught.

She felt that she might collapse when she arrived at the Garden’s flowered paths once more. The fullness of gravity settled over her as she extinguished the blue spell she’d kept enveloped around herself for nearly the entire day. Her legs ached, her head was pounding, and she could tell her sinuses were fighting off the start of another nosebleed.

Her stomach panged. Right… She hadn’t had anything to eat or drink in the last twenty-four hours either. It was even longer in her memory. An odd chortle burst from her dry lips. When was the last time she’d had to complain about a thing like that?  

Ferris began to shuffle off in the direction of her and Castellar’s tent. They were low on food, not out. After all the running she’d done, surely Castellar wouldn’t have the audacity to tell her to go to sleep on an empty stomach and wait until the next day.

“I trust you weren’t hiding out someplace, shirking your duties, Madame Ferris.”

Ferris stopped in her tracks, brows twitching at the familiar and unpleasant voice that called to her from behind. On a normal day, she would’ve shrugged it off. That night, it filled her with sharp apprehension and self-loathing, because she’d forgotten a key weakness about her ability to bend time. She exhaled, looking back over her shoulder only after she’d plastered a cool, unflinching expression onto her face. Two sets of eyes shined crimson in the dark, sizing each other up like rival predators chancing upon each other on a midnight prowl.

“Hello to you too, Madame Althea.”

Chapter 53

Althea was what Ferris might’ve considered to be a traditional beauty. Ashen black hair framed her pale, narrow face in wild waves, making her eyes appear even more striking than they already were with their red color. Her heavy robes always seemed to be a bit too large for her thin shoulders; they weren’t too baggy, but it was never the right fit, as though she were a child donning a uniform she was too young to wear.  

These observations were surface-level. Behind her pretty face was an ugliness that Ferris knew she had to keep her guard up around.

“I heard you weren’t feeling well,” Althea gave the other young woman an inspecting stare, “I didn’t expect that it might’ve been true.”

Ferris wasn’t sure whether or not she should be grateful that she felt so bad, if it was that obvious. Should she provoke her, just this once? “And here I was actually starting to feel a little hurt that you didn’t come see me before now. I thought you looked up to me, as your senior and all.”

The barely concealed ire that Ferris was used to sensing revealed itself almost immediately. Althea’s eyes widened in an almost manic kind of anger. Nothing seemed to get under her skin quite like the two of them being compared to one another—although Ferris herself was rarely one to make such comparisons. Again, both being skilled seers, both from reputable guilds, and both taught by renowned mages, they were equal in many ways.

Yet Ferris had always been the one that captured so much intrigue. Ferris was the one summoned to meet King Fanya and the one that other guilds fought over. And now Ferris was the one elevated to Master Seer while Althea was given no such title at the Morrigan Guild—despite being three years older and having studied directly under her former guildmaster for a much longer period than Ferris’ apprenticeship under Valda.

Althea was a talented enough crimson mage to have been brought here though. That alone made her uniquely dangerous at a moment like this. No one remembered Ferris’ leaps through time the way that Valda had: That was a special trait shared only between the one with the power to reset and those who they had inherited that ability from. Others, however, could be sensitive to the repeating ripples in history—even monsters, who didn’t possess a drop of crimson magic. A strong enough seer may detect changes in the flow of events.

It was impossible for her to gauge how much Althea knew. Ferris could only think of two options: She could either retreat or she could upset Althea so much that the other seer lost all grasp of her intuition.

“You’ve somehow become even more arrogant since the last time we met,” the latter glared, then her lips rose in a twisted smirk, “Yes, congratulations on your promotion! A shame that Madame Valda had to die for you to get it.”

A fire bloomed inside of Ferris at her master’s name on Althea’s tongue. Nevertheless, she grinned. At least Althea was an honest enemy, even if this was one of the last places they needed to act out.

She responded in kind, “Meanwhile, although your master’s long since passed, you continue to walk in his shadow. Wherever he rests, I’m certain he’s honored by how you humble yourself before his memory.”

She was prepared to trade insults for however many rounds Althea wanted to take it, but a certain crown prince interrupted before another word passed between them. Prince Denver slipped out from the darkness and behind the Morrigan mage. “Come now, both of you! Let’s remember where we are! It’s a lovely summer night, flowers are in bloom… Why go and spoil it?” He placed a hand on Althea’s shoulder, but his eyes were directed toward the other seer. “We missed you at today’s meeting, Madame Ferris. I hope you’re feeling better.”

The way he spoke, one would think they had an audience—although there wasn’t another soul to be seen in the area. It didn’t hurt to be too careful, but it made Ferris wonder what Denver was doing this far from his own tent anyway. Looking for Althea? Maybe, since they were in the same travelling party, and the pair of them should’ve been closer than herself and the prince as the two were both from Auread. Ferris didn’t think he would personally go searching for herself again, after what happened last time.

It was a question for another day. “I’m grateful for your concern, Your Highness. After a good night’s sleep, I’m sure I’ll be as right as rain,” Ferris bowed to him, then added, “I hope you’ll forgive us for causing a scene. Please, consider it the ribbing of friendly rivals and nothing more. Isn’t that right, Madame Althea?”

“Right…” The other young woman looked disoriented from having to choke down her fury so suddenly. The amiable way that Ferris and Denver spoke, as well as the prince’s touch, also seemed to confuse her. She withdrew, dipping her head low at the prince. “She’s right. My apologies, Your Highness. We took it too far.”

“You spoke out of turn first, Madame Althea. I don’t think it’s my forgiveness alone you should seek.”

She visibly bristled. Considering who the suggestion was coming from, she couldn’t turn it down. Althea looked back at the other seer and bowed her head once more. “My apologies, Madame Ferris…”

“Truly, there’s nothing to forgive.” Better that Althea say what she wanted than continue to curse her in silence. Either way, Ferris didn’t care to begin with.

Denver was beaming. She wondered if this was his way of trying to makeup for the incident with the caocao, but she didn’t need him using his authority to stand up for her. No, it would probably only make Althea even angrier and risk even more possible rumors of some closeness between them. Finally seeing an opening to leave the exchange, Ferris excused herself and carried on her way.

Go to the gold star. Eat something. Sleep. There wasn’t a single other thing Ferris intended to do that evening. Fate, however, had other plans. She’d just finished saving her new place in time—forced to take another route back to the campground to avoid a pair of lovers canoodling one another under the shade of a pomegranate tree—when she crossed paths with Gerson out on a nighttime stroll. He was carrying a bottle of brandy. Fancy brandy, from the looks of it.

“Taking a walk to clear your head?” he asked, peering closely at her face.

She nodded, “Yeah, although I’m starting to think the walk just made it worse.”

“You do look like you could this a bit more than I do.” Ferris blinked as large, scaly hands passed the brandy into her own. “Drink up and sleep soundly. It’ll be another long day tomorrow.”

Ferris had been around enough heavy drinkers to suspect that alcohol wasn’t quite the cure many people thought it was, even when her parents had used it in plenty of their own remedies. She still hugged the bottle to her chest. After the day she’d had, she thought she could use a good drink.

At that moment, she wished she could talk to Gerson. About everything. Maybe it was because his type of monster was so long-lived and because she’d known him since the earliest days of her apprenticeship, but even though they were both probably about as mature as each other, she nevertheless saw him as an adult that she could look up to. Would the ‘Hammer of Justice’ clap her on the back for the lives she’d saved or scold her for the risks she’d taken? Would he consider what she’d done an abuse of her power or a necessary act? Would he tell her she did the right thing?

Would he continue to speak to her as a friend or would he treat her as a reckless force of nature that had to be contained?

“You’re doing just fine.”

Ferris didn’t understand what the turtle was talking about right away, debating for a few seconds if he had somehow heard her thoughts. Something must’ve shown in her expression.

“It’s politics, I know,” he clarified, “These talks are a lot. I don’t like them either, but hey, it’s got to be done. You and Castellar are both holding your own alright though—and things will wrap up here before you know it.”

Misinterpreted as her worries were, oddly enough, his words managed to soothe them a little. She offered him a tired smile, “I’ll do my best. And then do my best to pass this job to someone else next time.”

“I wouldn’t blame you!” he guffawed, then jogged off in an almost abrupt bid goodnight.

The shout that chased after him further along the way he came from explained why, “Gerson!”

Queen Toriel’s annoyed holler rang through the Garden. Ferris peered at Gerson’s retreating form, then down at the bottle in her hands, realization dawning that she was made an accomplice. Oh, you sneak!

She cut through the flowerbeds and ran back toward the campground in a wide circle, listening carefully to make sure that Toriel’s heavy steps didn’t follow hers. She practically rolled into her and Castellar’s tent, the skeleton jumping up from where he’d been sitting in the dark. He shifted into a fighting stance, then soon relaxed when he discovered it was only her.

He must’ve had questions about how her mission went, and yet, as he stood over her, his first one was, “Why are you cradling a bottle of brandy?”

“Don’t ask.” Ferris continued to listen to the world outside, but couldn’t hear Toriel anymore. All that resounded through the tent flap was the crackle of a campfire and the voices of the guards and servants clustered around it. She’d been in such a hurry to make her getaway that she had barely registered that they were close-by.

Castellar helped her get up from the ground. Only one candle lit the wide space, which he had been reading by as he waited for her return. The two sat at the table and pour each other a glass, sharing the details of their day. Outside of people inquiring where the seer was, nothing worthy of note had happened on the skeleton’s end. He was able play mediator perfectly well enough by himself and that day’s discussions ended in the same manner that Ferris remembered them. So far, it seemed that everything had gone successfully.

Ferris allowed her muscles to relax, the growl of her stomach reminding her of her hunger. She reached for the fruit basket and began to devour the first thing her hand latched onto, pulling a slab of cheese toward her with the other. There was nothing mannerly or dignified about how she ate, but Castellar let her eat in peace, mildly sipping on his brandy as he ignored the poor display.

The voices outside seemed to grow louder as the pair sat quiet in the dark. The campfire group was boisterously singing an upbeat song that Ferris didn’t recognize—not until several lines in.

“Mage of crimson sight,
Have you seen my naughty child?
Does he wander through the dell?
Do tell me where he’s gone.
What clue could you find?
What truth plays b’fore your eyes?
Mischief maker he may be,
Might you bring back my son? 

“How could I keep a child
So puckish and so wild?
Not even I, I fear,
Could foretell where he nears.
Pray he does not follow
Trouble ‘round hill and hollow,
Should he flitter through the night
Await him with rod at dawn.”

The minstrels had certainly done their best. They’d taken the morbid piece about the lost souls buried under the deceased Lord Weaver’s castle and turned it into a humorous tale of a frustrated mother chasing after her troublemaking child. Ferris personally didn’t think it was any good, but if their version of the song had traveled this far, then it had done its job.

For a third time, Ferris reflected on whether or not it was the right decision, covering everything up. No matter how much effort she, the rest of the Arnaud Guild, and those like them tried to maintain harmony across the Two Kingdoms, it would always be overshadowed by the wrongs others had done. Bad news was more interesting than good news, and the truth would always be twisted to serve someone’s means. People preached about love and peace, but they fed on drama, conflict, and war.  If they were so inclined to all of that, then why lie at all? If the truth bid them to destroy each other, then why were they ever worth protecting from the start?

Castellar appeared to notice that Ferris’ mind was drifting to some haunting place. She felt gloved fingers uncurl hers from her cup, belatedly realizing just how tightly she’d been holding onto it. He didn’t look directly at her as he reached out, keeping the air between them free of awkward or necessary speech.

Once again, he bewildered her with his care. Ferris didn’t shake him off though. If he was offering to anchor her, then she couldn’t brush him away. How hard she had fought to break from the tangle of threads that wove their stories together only to come to this…

Morning would bring fresh troubles. The foreign envoys would keep fighting them at every turn during the negotiations. Their domestic enemies would seek to exploit any weakness they revealed. Countless obstacles were bound to stand in their path as Ebott entered this new age. Nevertheless, the future didn’t frighten Ferris as much as she expected. Not with him facing each challenge beside her. She had no idea what would come next and yet, in that instant, she never saw things more clearly.

END OF ACT TWO

…

…You and I already know how this story ends. There’s only one way it can end for next story to begin:

“Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: humans and monsters. One day, war broke out between the two races. After a long battle, the humans were victorious. They sealed the monsters underground with a magic spell.”

You wouldn’t believe how many times certain people have nagged me to change the ending anyway. It’s annoying, but I don’t really blame them. It’s not like I wasn’t ever tempted. I thought of ripping them away from their world at the last moment. I thought of planting their memories into new bodies. I thought about how to give them the closure they’re bound to be denied.

But that’s not my job. Believe it or not, writers have rules. Good storytellers tell their stories as they’re meant to be told. Forcing what we or others want to happen doesn’t really work out… For the record, I actually like happy endings. If I see even a shadow of one, I’ll invite you to watch it.

I’ll be frank. Close this window to their world here and now and you won’t have to see them get hurt. You can pretend their play ended in however way you want, or you can stay with them until the stage lights go out. Either way, thanks for being here. I don’t think you would’ve made it this far if you didn’t care about them.

It won’t all be darkness, I’ll promise you that much.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 2 of Dark Origins