Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

" D ance with me."

"I have two starfish for feet, Harl," I laughed, a little tipsy on the ale we'd stolen from the tavern.

The whole of Castelorain was out celebrating the summer solstice, praising the stars and the ocean for their bounties. Harlon and I had taken a barrel of ale right off the back of a wagon that had been pulled up in the town square ready for the celebrations, then we'd rolled it all the way up to the woodland on Sunfern Hill. Harlon had shifted into his big brown Monolrian Bear form to push it, and I'd mostly just ridden on his back and enjoyed the view while carrying his clothes. His fur was almost gold when the sun hit it right, and it was as soft as feathers. I could almost forget he wasn't just a big teddy bear until I glimpsed the size of his claws and teeth. It had been a full month since he'd Emerged and part of me was a teeny bit jealous that I didn't have my Order form yet. Still, playing with a giant bear in the ocean and riding him about the place sure was fun.

From the top of the hill, we could see all the way back across the sloping town that dropped away toward the ocean. The sun still glimmered on the water, its rays turning the liquid to molten gold as it made its descent towards the horizon. The townsfolk would be up until dawn – or at least the ones who hadn't drunk themselves into a stupor already. Music carried across the red-tiled rooftops, the band in the square playing drums and organettos to sound out the last day of spring.

The heat of the day was thick in the air and the cicadas came to life with the coming dusk, singing louder as if they wished to celebrate the change of seasons too. Ahead of us was a baking summer, long days that ended with sandy feet, sun-touched shoulders and salty hair.

Our combat training wouldn't cease and it would be far more gruelling in the thick summer heat, but it was still my favourite time of year. Cascada was made for sunshine, but if the warmth ever grew unbearable, the Awakened Fae would gather on the shore and bring a rainstorm down upon the scorched earth, settling the dust and soothing the burn in our skin.

Harlon took my hand, refusing to let me deny him a dance as he tugged me off the ground and swung me around, making me follow his moves. He was no longer a scrawny boy, but the makings of a man. At sixteen, he was bigger than most of the other boys our age and bigger than some even older. The farrier who had taken him in all those years ago might have been an asshole, but he didn't let Harlon skip meals. It was out of the purely selfish desire to produce our generation's greatest warrior, but so long as Harlon was fed, his intentions didn't matter.

Today, Harlon had brought a whole feast wrapped in cloth and laid it out here for us to gorge on, and though I'd questioned him about whether the farrier knew about it, Harlon had waved me off and refused to give me a good answer, demanding I eat lest he hurl himself over The Boundary into the Crux.

Days like this didn't come often, so I'd fallen for his mischievous smiles and let myself indulge for once.

The music pulsed around us and Harlon drew me closer as the sun fell away to the west, painting its goodbye in a display of ambers, yellows and sugary pinks. Harlon's hand came to my cheek, our smiles wide, our feet slowing as a headier tune started up in the distant square. He was still reeling me closer, our bodies touching, breaths heavy and heat crackling against my skin like a livewire.

"Summer calls," he murmured.

"Then winter beckons," I sang.

"Ever the pessimist," he accused, a smirk lifting his lips.

His body was so hot against mine, it rivalled the sun. He was brighter to me than that celestial body too, my guiding light. Always. When things were bad, Harlon made them good. It was his nature.

Smiles came easy to him even when the world was at its darkest. He found a way to enjoy each moment, capturing them like Faeflies in a jar. If only I could hold onto him the same way. But the girls in town were noticing him, and he noticed them back. My friend was becoming something more than I'd realised he could ever be, and sometimes I felt him slipping from my grasp.

I wasn't the only girl he spent time with now and how long could I really expect him to remain this close to me? One day, he would turn away and he wouldn't come back. This summer might mark the last of them that were just ours. And a small part of me wondered if I could find a way to keep him, but it was a selfish, greedy piece of me that had no right to its desires.

I couldn't offer Harlon what he sought in other girls. I already tarred his reputation enough by the sole fact that I was the town outcast and he still spent time with me. What would happen when the girls he courted started whispering in his ear about me? Asking why he lent his affections to someone so odd. Someone who rarely tried to fit in and who scorned the Fae of her own age. I'd turned my back on all of them long ago, just as they had done to me. I didn't have room in my heart for offering affections to Harlon's pursuits, just as they had no room to offer me theirs.

But here, between the olive trees in a hidden grove upon a faraway hill, I wanted what I never allowed myself to want. I dared to hope that Harlon wanted it too, and though logic told me I would risk shattering this beautiful, fragile friendship between us, tonight, it felt worth risking everything for.

"Harl," I whispered, leaning even closer, tip-toeing as I clung to his broad shoulders.

"Ever," he whispered back.

I leaned in, my heart thrashing and skin alive with the frantic heat of my secret wants.

Our mouths almost touched, so close to ruining us that I couldn't draw a single breath.

Then Harlon pulled back, rupturing the moment and pulverising it with his following words, "We drank far too much ale."

He laughed uneasily, releasing me and dropping down to sit on the cloth we'd laid out on the hill. As if the sun knew the moment was over, it stole away the last of the light and left the sky in dusky blues.

I glanced down at my dusty bare feet, now cold despite the oppressive warmth. I was somewhere between humiliated and rejected, knowing I shouldn't be either because Harl and I were not meant to be more than friends. Perhaps he was right. The ale was to blame. And as I moved to sit beside him to watch Faelights ignite the streets of Castelorain, his hand closed around mine, squeezing once. An apology perhaps. Or maybe an omen. That we were not to be.

I blinked out of the bittersweet memory, focusing on the instructions the Reapers were giving at the lowest level of the Galaseum. They were describing how to cast concealment spells which could coax shadows into life to keep you hidden from enemy Fae. There were other spells they spoke of too, some of which could repel Fae from yourself, an object or room.

Such spells, when detected by other Fae, could make them desperately need to use the latrine, or forget what they were doing. Or they could be more vicious, the magic constructed to make any Fae who approached your concealed object be filled with the sudden urge to slit open their own veins or hurl themselves out the nearest window.

I'd had quite enough experience of being thrown out of a window to know I absolutely needed to learn how to cast these spells and how to undo them. But for now, we were focusing on the more simple ability to cloak yourself in shadow. With the memory of mine and Harlon's night on Sunfern Hill still clinging to me, a shadow started to seep through my skin of a much more loathsome memory. The kiss of a killer painting my lips in malevolence. His touches were nothing like Harlon's, his hands possessive, firm, toxic.

I forced him out of my head and made notes on my sheath of parchment, dipping my quill in ink and shooting an envious look at the girl next to me who had a perma-quill. The ink never ran out, and the feather seemed to be that of a peacock, the beautiful green and gold colouring making my dull grey feather look even duller by comparison.

Mine was a reminder of home though, the feather from a common fishing gull in Castelorain. My mama had gifted it to me some years ago along with the ink well which had belonged to my grandmother. It was a simple blue glass structure with the emblem of Typhon, the celestial sea serpent, curling around it.

My gaze slid over to the Flamebringers as I listened to the Reapers, my eyes moving across them, hunting for the one among them who ignited hellfire in my soul, losing my ability to focus again. Kaiser, for reasons best known to himself, had not given me up to the Reapers after our last encounter. A simple Cyclops interrogation could have proved his story true had he wished to see me punished – or perhaps even executed. I had been trying to kill him after all, and a murder had been announced the next morning too after the Sky Witch had left her mark there. I could have taken the fall for that. I very well came close to it if Kaiser had considered handing me over, and now I was left with the tormenting question of why he hadn't.

After much furious deliberation, I'd concluded that he simply saw me as such a little threat that he didn't care to see me executed for what I'd done.

Something had happened between us that night, and I was tormented wondering what exactly it was. Some magic had passed from me to him unbidden and had affected him in a way I couldn't even guess at. Fuck, it had made him angry though. I had thought him terrifying without a soul, but with one dipped in ire, he was an even more ominous target.

Despite my failure in killing him, I wasn't giving up. Success was only achieved through attempt. The number of attempts was unknown, but triers were renowned for getting what they wanted eventually. The key was rebounding quickly and realigning to my goal. I wasn't ready yet, that was clear. I could accept that. But the word to hold onto was yet .

By the time the Reapers dismissed us, I hadn't located Kaiser among the Flamebringers and my notes left a lot to be desired.

"Kaské," I cursed. Shit .

I couldn't let the distractions in my head mess with my studies. It was important that I mastered everything I was taught so that I could become a warrior great enough to destroy Kaiser Brimtheon and leave her mark on this world too.

If I did that, perhaps my father would see me in a different light, unable to deny the truth of my prowess as a warrior. He would beg for my forgiveness, remorseful that he hadn't seen that potential in me sooner, that he hadn't nurtured it like he had in Ransom. Then he would grovel and pour fat, gold coins in my hands and-

"You have a hole in your sleeve," the girl beside me pointed out, wrinkling her nose at it then gathering her things up and walking away towards the exit.

I pursed my lips at the offending hole. Between instructions in wielding my element and the private combat training I was forcing myself to complete, my clothes were getting worn through and they had already been re-stitched and patched up countless times.

I was running out of thread and the fact was, I needed some new wares. Winter was getting its claws into the Keep now, and my clothes were not up for the challenge of fighting off the icy wind that cut through the hallways here, let alone venturing outside for long periods. I pulled on my hand-made gloves as I walked, the fleece lining snug against my hands and keeping me warm against the chill.

Wandershire would be at Obsidian Cove today and as the bells rang out for our food break, I pushed out of my seat, gathering up my things and shouldering my pack.

I'd managed to make a few more coins by offering out armour repairs, but most of the Raincarvers avoided me, not wanting to be associated with someone that Ransom Rake had declared a pariah.

Whenever it seemed people were forgetting about the tar to my name, Ransom made a point of showing me up, embarrassing or belittling me in any way he could to keep me from easily finding friends. His hatred of me apparently knew no end, and sometimes I wondered what it was about me that he despised so deeply. Why couldn't he let me be? Why was he so insistent on keeping me banished from the masses? It was a twisted little power play most likely, just a show of his strength and a reminder to him and the Raincarvers of his position in the world. The apple didn't fall far from the tree, I supposed. But I guessed my father had given my apple a hard kick into the ocean when I'd been born.

I took a fast pace across Never Keep, soon passing through the towering Night Gate and heading down the Escalade, the steep stone steps cleared of ice and snow by the Reapers. Otherwise, I was certain more than a few Fae would have tumbled to their deaths here.

The snow was no longer falling, but there was a heavy mist in the air and a promise of more to come, the stillness to the wind telling of a brewing storm.

The weather was a beast out here in the northern waters, nothing like the calm shores of Cascada. The few storms we had were more of a blessing than a curse from Pisces, but here, it was as though her rage lived between the waves and in the churning swirl of the storm clouds, lashing at the island as if it had offended her. As my star sign, I knew the turbulence of a Pisces' emotions. When we hurt, we were in torment, and when we smiled, we felt joy with the entirety of our hearts.

Wandershire stood waiting on the beach, the sprawling, tightly-packed rooftops now coated in a dusting of snow and swirls of smoke rising from the chimney tops. Fellow neophytes came and went, and I shared a glower with a Stonebreaker as I passed her on the stairs into the town, my hand dropping to the concealed hilt of my dagger while hers twitched with the promise of magic. It was always like this, this tension, this hostility. It brewed between the walls of the Keep, stoked by the kindling of our long-worn hatred.

I wound through the narrow streets of Wandershire, hunting for a more reasonably priced clothmaker than the one I had visited before. Or perhaps a store offering second-hand wares that were more in my range of affordability. But everything seemed to shine and gleam, the craftsmen of this place offering out fine goods that were priced accordingly.

I lingered by a window that had a display of stunning gowns, the kind fit for balls and courts, the sort of item I had never had use for in all my life. I eyed the plain pink taffeta of the one on the left, picturing rows of crystals stitched into the underskirt and silver thread sewn in delicate patterns across the bodice. It needed more life, more uniqueness than what the dressmaker had offered it. This dress was made to be worn by someone with as little personality as the gown itself. I could only imagine the Skyforgers wearing clothes such as these, gowns for their royal parties and prissy banquets.

Beyond the window display were clothes of all kinds, the mix of the four elemental styles together in one store, looking wholly at odds with each other. There were thin dresses, skirts, loose-fitting trousers, sandals and swimwear for the Raincarvers, swathes of furs, tunics and leathers for the Stonebreakers and the mix of fine shirts, fitted dresses, tailed coats and more casual cotton jerseys and jackets for the Flamebringers. There was a much wider selection of gowns for the Skyforgers too, but there were battle clothes as well, leather straps, gauntlets and brigandines. Whatever land you were from, I guessed you could find an outfit here.

I clucked my tongue as my gaze fell back on the boring pink dress in the window display, moving to leave but a hand came down on my shoulder at the same moment.

"Something irk you, doll?" Mavus Angelico purred and I turned to him, startled by his sudden appearance. He was dressed in a green fur coat today along with his top hat, his chest bare as it had been before, displaying his many amulets, and his pants were black with gold embroidery.

I shrugged his hand off my shoulder. "No, I was just wondering how many vapid customers have shown interest in this equally vapid gown?"

His eyes slid to the dress then back to me and he barked a laugh. "It does rather pale into the background. Unlike you, doll. What's ya name again?"

"I didn't tell you it before."

"Ah, that's right. I remember now. My cryptic little Raincarver. So what is it then? Janice? Consuela? Or, stars forbid, Jessica."

"What's wrong with the name Jessica?"

"Nothing, in principle. But a lass with that name once had me doing things I should never have been doing."

"Like what?" I frowned.

"Nothing so bad as your expression tells me you're thinking, lass. I wasn't fiddling dolphins or dicking crustaceans."

"I really, really wasn't thinking that."

"I did have a wandering eye for a manatee once," he mused, stroking his chin as he thought back on it. "It gets lonely out on them seas sometimes; my mind was addled by the madness of the open ocean. My cock did not go near any sea creatures, though, I assure you of that. But did I pleasure myself to the thoughts of one a time or two? Who can say?"

"I'm…gonna go." I side stepped past him, but his hand shot out to catch my wrist, halting me in my tracks and setting my hackles rising. "Release me."

He smiled that twisted smile of his, letting go and showing me the palm of his hand in innocence. "Forgive my insistence, but I have waited months for you to return to Wandershire and I saw not a hide nor a hair of you, lass, since that very first meeting. I have been waiting for you, and I don't have a fondness for waiting. I take it you are as poor and coinless as the first day of our encounter?"

I clenched my teeth, saying nothing in answer to that.

"I'll take your silence as a yes then, doll. No need to speak the words that shame you so. As I've said before, I know what it is to carry the burden of only buttons in your purse. Now come, I've been working on a speech for ya, lass, and I'd like to give it to ya in the privacy of me own bureau."

"I'm good." I tugged my arm out of his grip. "I'm not going somewhere private with a Stonebreaker."

He cocked his head to one side, looking slightly wounded. "I ain't no Stonebreaker, I told you before. I'm one and all. Neutral in nature and I have a proposal for you that you will not want to pass up, I promise you that."

"Your assurance means nothing to me. I don't know you," I said, stepping back warily.

"You can know me, though. How is anyone to know anyone if they don't give ‘em the opportunity of kindling a friendship?"

"I'm not looking for friends, I'm looking for affordable wares. If you can point me to a trader who has cheaper cloth, then-"

"These. Are. Sublime," he declared, taking hold of my wrist again and lifting my hand up to admire the glove I wore, made from the material he had given me the last time I was here. "The stitching is a marvel in itself, and stars have mercy, the embroidery – Typhon, is it?"

I nodded, his praise stalling me in my tracks. "I can cast through them too," I admitted, that needy little part of me drinking in the attention. Compliments were a rare resource that I couldn't deny the sweetness of.

"How?" he demanded. "Show me."

I cast frost and the glimlock lacquer I had soaked the gloves in allowed my magic to slip through, leaving the material untouched so ice formed on its exterior.

"Would ya look at that…" he trailed off, turning my hand left and right to admire the craftmanship and pride slipped into my chest, nestling there like a bird in a warm nest. Kaské , I needed to get a grip.

"Right, what will it take for you to agree to escort me to my bureau, lass?" he asked, dropping my hand and lifting his chin as he stared down at me. "I have an offer you won't be able to refuse, but I won't be speaking it here for prying ears to hear."

"So cast a silencing shield," I said, folding my arms.

"Clever mouse," he said with a glint in his dark blue eyes. "But maybe I have a thing or two I wish to show you. Things I do not wish to be seen, if you catch my meaning."

"I don't catch your meaning, actually. In fact, it kinda sounds like you're going to take me somewhere and whip your dick out. And I promise you, if you do, I will cut it off and feed it to that amorous manatee you were so taken with."

Mavus raised his eyebrows then boomed a laugh, clapping me on the arm so hard I stumbled a step sideways. "You must think me quite the rogue to expect such a crass move, but I have Fae a-plenty in all ports across The Waning Lands awaiting my return so they can show me the full extent of their affections. I do not need to lure some unsuspecting neophyte into my quarters to get my cock serviced, lass. You think a man like me has trouble with such a thing?" He gestured to himself, and I gave him a dry look that did nothing to stroke his ego.

"Two gold karmas and a star deal that promises I will not ‘whip my dick out' - as you so elegantly put it - during our business meeting." He offered me his hand, those two shining coins right there, ready and waiting for me like he'd known it would come to this.

I snatched them before he could rescind his offer, thinking of all the material I could buy with them and lost to the picture of what I planned on making before slapping my hand into his.

He repeated the promise and magic flared between us, binding both him and me to it under penalty of the stars doling out bad luck on either of us for seven years.

His face twisted into something darker, his hand tugging on mine as he guided me down the street, not releasing me until we were stepping through a fine oak door in the front of a stone belltower that rose higher than all the rest of the buildings.

Mavus led me up a narrow stairway to the highest room where arching windows looked out over Wandershire. The space was filled with trinkets, shelves overflowing with golden, bronze and silver objects that glinted with magic and the promise of mystery. His desk was a slab of a thing, covered in a chaotic disarray of maps that charted the waters and land passages between The Waning Lands as well as the most recent known locations for the flying islands of Stormfell, a large bronze compass lying in the centre of it all.

I wondered what it was like out there, traversing the deadly wastelands and the monster-filled oceans that divided the four nations. Mavus had probably seen more of this world than I ever would, and a strange, envious niggle rose in me for that. He was free, and as much as I craved the glory of battle, there was something about his life that made me jealous. He didn't have to answer to the call of kings or fear the clash of crowns. He could wander after the whims of his own desires, follow a fate painted by his own hand. I had never known a life like that was even possible, but here he was, claiming it for all the lands to witness.

"Did you train at Never Keep?" I asked curiously, moving through his bureau to take in the roiling ocean beyond the rooftops of Wandershire.

"No, not me, lass. I learned to fight though, just not how you neophytes do it. There was no discipline, no rules, only havoc."

I turned back to face him, finding him perching on the edge of his desk, gazing at me with a grimness in his eyes that spoke of something that disturbed him in his past.

"You have a way of saying things without really saying anything at all," I accused. "You want me to trust you, I think, but you haven't given me any reason to so far. Gold and gifts won't ever buy that from me."

He regarded me for a moment, nodding slowly as he absorbed my words. "There's a reason I keep moving port to port, shore to shore, never staying in one place too long. You see, I fear if I stop, the demons will catch up to me. Not literal ones, mind, but the demons of my past. I need change. I am here and then I am elsewhere, it suits me greatly. It is so very easy to forget the fire you were forged in when you are busy chasing prettier flames."

"There you go again," I sighed. "Saying something without saying anything at all."

He ran his tongue over his teeth. "Yeah, I have a talent for that. It seems you ain't buying my riddles like most Fae do. I shall add it to the reasons I have a fondness for you."

"By fondness for me, you mean for my value. You said before, you see something in me you want. So what is it?"

"Smart, lass." He nodded to the dagger at my hip. "You forge better than my most experienced blacksmiths. Where did you learn to make blades like that?"

"My mother taught me," I answered.

"Hm, and likely the stars blessed you too. The constellation of Orion is linked to you, I'd bet. Woven into the fibres of your soul, a talent for smithing as our hunter of the sky possesses so well."

"Orion is more closely linked to the earth element," I said, rejecting what he proposed. "My gifts are water made if they are even gifts at all."

"Oh, they're gifts alright. And you're bright but you're not bright enough. You can't see it, can you, lass? It's right there in front of you neophytes, but you deny it, every last one of ya." He gripped the amulets at his throat. "You forge with fire that feeds on air, your metal comes from the belly of the earth, you cool your blade with the water of the ocean. You cannot forge without the four elements. You cannot breathe, you cannot roam, you cannot live without them all."

"That's different," I hissed. "The world is made of the combined elements, but that doesn't mean I wield anything other than water."

"And what difference does magic make? Fire is fire. Earth is earth-"

"Enough," I snarled. "Tell me what you brought me here for." I took a step towards the door, deciding to leave if he kept spewing this blasphemy at me.

He sighed, resting his ringed hands on his legs. "If only you could see… well, I guess I'll cut to the chase then, doll. I want to employ your services. I want four blades a month from you. Swords, daggers, cutlasses, the works. If you can provide me that to the best of your abilities, then I will offer you any wares of your desires. On top of that, now I've seen the gift of your clothes-making, I want ten pairs of those gloves in five colours by the end of the month. Any other gifts you possess in crafting, I want. I will give you cloth and metal and the finest smithing tools in Wandershire. Anything you need, anything you simply want for the pure desire of it, it's yours. Take your pick from the traders, take that vapid pink gown and take the hat from me head if you so wish it – though I am rather attached to ol' Hatticus and I'll need a day or two to say me farewells."

I stood in the wake of his offer with shock leaving me stunned. "Anything?" I whispered the word as if the stars might hear me and snatch away the possibility of it.

"Anything." He grinned like a devil and a prickling feeling in my blood told me that making deals with this man was a bad, bad idea. But there was no catch that I could see. It would be hard work, and the cost was in potentially taking my attention from my studies, but I could make it happen. I'd stay up later, I'd split my time accordingly so it didn't impact my training.

"I've already written up the contract." He slid it across his desk, the large parchment filled with tiny, curling lettering and a space at the bottom awaiting my signature. "It's binding magically and there's a lot of small print I'm sure you'll want to be reading through, but every one of my traders have signed on with me like this. They know what they're taking on, and if they don't fulfil their end of the bargain then, well, they just have to repay their debt to me one way or another and we call it square."

I moved to the desk, eyeing the contract and glancing up at him. "I'll need time to read over this."

"Take all the time you need, lass." He threw himself down in a leather chair and stacked his hands on his stomach.

I started reading but he piped up again.

"Don't be thinking small here, doll," he said in a low voice, leaning forward in his seat and splaying his hand beside mine on the contract. "When I say anything, I mean that word in all the literal ways I am able to mean it." He lowered his hand to a drawer in the desk, sliding it open and revealing jars of some pink, glittering substance, rows and rows of them placed neatly together inside.

"These are just some of my more…taboo wares."

"You mean illegal." I arched a brow at him, and he smiled innocently.

"Have you ever heard of battle stims, doll?"

My jaw tightened. "They're forbidden. People have died from taking them."

"They've improved a lot these past years, the best alchemists I know have been perfecting the recipe. I reckon one of these days, the Reapers might just make ‘em legal."

"Bullshit," I scoffed. "They're dangerous."

"They're wildly effective too," he purred, taking hold of my left hand and turning it over, skimming his thumb across the scarred skin.

I snatched my hand back, but the damage was done. He'd seen it all too well.

"You can't cast with the hand, can ya doll?"

I stiffened, heat rising up the back of my neck as I glared at him.

"Your secret is safe with me." He mimed zipping his lips. "But word on the wind is…the latest batch of stims contain healing properties. Miraculous kinds of healing, lass. The kind not even a Reaper can cast. This here scar might just respond to the right dosage. Course, we'd need to do a little blood-tie if we were gonna delve into that kinda venture together."

"As in the blood ties you're strictly forbidden from doing with neophytes at Never Keep?" I arched a brow.

"Ah yes, absolutely. I wouldn't go breaking my oath to the Reapers. Unless…" He smiled in a way that said he was the particular brand of unhinged that was deadly.

My hand curled into a tight fist and I slammed the drawer of battle stimulants shut, nearly catching his fingers in it and making him curse.

"I'll take that as a no," he laughed, leaning back in his seat and cupping his hands behind his head, the muscles of his chest flexing and his golden curls falling against his shoulders. "Go on then, doll. Read it back to front, then front to back again. I'll be taking a nap in the meantime. Nemean Lion Order, me. That's my curse, I guess. Asleep at random hours of the day, but hell if it ain't my favourite indulgence second to only fucking." He closed his eyes and promptly fell asleep. I narrowed my eyes at him in case he was faking, then carried the contract to a seat by the window, laying it out on the small table there and started to read.

His Order made a whole lot of sense. Nemean Lions were known for their Charisma, a magical sort of charm their kind worked on people to get what they wanted. They were compelling, likeable, manipulative and oh-so-charming that falling for them could seem as simple as taking a breath of fresh air. So I needed to keep my wits about me if I was going to enter into this deal.

It took me over an hour to go through the contract and the quiet streets beyond the windows told me the neophytes were all gone and I was going to be seriously late returning to my next session with the Reapers. But with the offering of all the supplies I could ask for in reach, I couldn't wait to seize this opportunity. It would be weeks before Wandershire would be back at Never Keep.

Some of the contract was written in the kind of complex verbiage that had my head spinning, but there was nothing of real note that stood out. The small print stated that I would have to pay back whatever Mavus bestowed on me before my goods were delivered to him if I failed to produce them in time. I didn't see the harm in that, so I finally moved back to his desk, picking up a pink feathered quill and signing my name at the bottom, printing it there in large letters too. Magic rippled across the contract, golden rivulets shivering through it before falling still and I felt that same magic settling in my veins, binding me to it.

I kicked Mavus in the ankle and he jerked awake, finding the contract hovering in front of his face as I held it there. "Done."

"Everest Arcadia," he purred and I swear my name on his tongue sounded like he was declaring me as his latest acquisition. "Welcome to the fold."

I arrived in my quarters in Never Keep with my pack fit to bursting with cloth, fabric, metals and the supplies to build a proper forge in the fire in my quarters. I'd been gathering items here and there for it but had yet to complete the roughly-made structure, and now I wouldn't have to. I could make one as fine as my mother's forge, and I was so overjoyed with the prospect that I set to work immediately.

I'd missed the last session in the Galaseum, but I'd see if I could get notes from Galomp so I could catch up.

I was a few hours into building my forge by the time my grumbling stomach demanded I pay attention. I checked the pocket watch I'd claimed from Wandershire, feeling like a thief when Mavus had handed it over without taking anything for it. An astrological clock ringed the inside of it along with the hours of the day around the outer edges.

"Hia kaské," I swore. Holy shit.

It was almost midnight and I had no idea if the refectory would be open now, but I'd skipped lunch already and didn't want to miss the possibility of dinner. I pushed to my feet, my knees aching from how long I'd been in the same position on the floor in front of the fire grate.

I cursed myself for not having taken some food from Wandershire. There had been pastries the size of my face that I'd casually walked by as if they weren't the most tempting thing in the world. But it had felt all too strange filling up my pack without offering anything in return, and I hadn't wanted to overdo it. It wasn't free, I had to remember. I had a lot of work to do to keep up with the items Mavus wanted me to make for him.

Wandershire wouldn't be back until next month, and I needed to be ready to present Mavus with my crafts or else I'd be handing all of this shit back to him.

I put my boots on and headed for the door, slipping quietly into the passage beyond and stilling as one of those bone-shuddering screams carried from somewhere deep down in the caves beneath the Keep. There was no helping the unfortunate soul it was coming from, so I made my feet track towards the stairs and head up, away from the sounds of those awful screams, an uncomfortable knot tying in my chest.

Between the strange magic that had passed from me to Kaiser, and the way I seemed to make it through magical boundaries that I should never have been able to cross, I was left wondering what kind of power was brewing in me. I didn't think it was a coincidence either that I was the only one who seemed to hear the wails coming from the underbelly of Never Keep. There was a connection between all those things, some intangible magic that I couldn't take hold of no matter how much I tried. I wondered if it was some mysterious gift of my Order, but I'd made no progress in learning the ways of my kind. If I'd been more prepared, I might have thought to visit a book trader in Wandershire, and I made a mental note to do just that as soon as the town returned.

The passages were quiet as I made my way from the Vault of Frost into the heart of the Keep and on towards the refectory. The Keep had a life of its own, its presence forbidding, like it was holding a thousand wicked secrets. In the dead of night, I could almost hear the walls whispering of the bad deeds they had laid witness to over the years.

The arching wooden doors to the refectory were firmly closed, bolted shut with a finality that said there likely wasn't any food waiting beyond them even if I could find a way through. So, with my stomach grumbling irritably at me, I turned back, figuring I would have to wait for breakfast.

Tiredness tugged at me, the sound of the howling wind rattling the high windows my only company as I walked. Or so I thought until a flash of gold down a passage to my left made me halt.

The swish of a cloak told of a nearby Reaper and though my instincts urged me to keep moving, the sound of two voices made me remain there.

"She should be here already," a woman hissed and I recognised Reaper Lily's voice from my elemental instructions.

"Patience," a male voice growled. "She will do as she's told by the Grand Maester. She will not fail."

Silence pressed in on me and my right hand moved, wielding a silencing shield around me before I began foolishly moving towards the sound of those voices. Curiosity killed the cat, they said, so my ass was definitely on the line. But as usual, I was drawn to chaos instead of shying away from it.

The Reapers had stepped through an archway to the left opposite a long line of windows and I drew up close to the arch before shooting a look around it. This passage led to the Vault of Sky so it wasn't one I ever traversed, the guarded gates at the end of it marking the path into enemy territory.

The two Reapers were moving towards those gates and several alcoves between here and there would allow me access to easy hiding places. So I followed, silent and slightly terrified as I crept after the two gold-cloaked figures, wondering what kind of punishment I would face if I was caught eavesdropping on them.

I slipped into an alcove several paces away from them, tucking myself in beside a statue of Gemini, the two winged queens holding swords that were raised towards a window in the curved ceiling above me. A window which flipped open, making me stifle a gasp as a figure came leaping down through it.

A glimmer of pink hair in the depths of a hood made realisation dagger through me and before I knew why I was doing it, I slapped my hand to the Sky Witch's mouth and yanked her back into the alcove before the Reapers could see her.

Her elbow drove into my side, forcing me off of her and she whirled towards me, her blade coming to my throat so fast, I did nothing but hush her frantically, pushing my silencing shield out around her and hoping I gave her enough pause not to kill me. She frowned, hesitating then slowly lowering the blade.

"The Reapers are out there. They're up to something," I hissed, unsure what I expected her to say to that. But she didn't question me, instead moving carefully forward and peering out into the corridor to check for herself. She tucked herself swiftly back out of sight and our arms pressed close together as we squeezed in beside the Gemini statue.

"You've seen them doing something fucked up before," she stated and I couldn't believe of all the Fae in Never Keep that she was the one who clearly believed me on that.

"So have you," I hissed in realisation, certain that could be the only explanation for her trust in my word.

"Perhaps," she said cryptically, but there was no other reason she would hide with me here now.

The Reapers were revered. If she trusted them as implicitly as most of the neophytes did, then she wouldn't hesitate in walking out there. She knew something just like I knew something, and I damn well wanted to know what it was.

"Finally, Grey is here," Reaper Lily exhaled and I edged forward with the Sky Witch, chancing a look out at them and finding the gate opening, revealing another Reaper guiding an air conscript along beside him. There was no sign of the guards who should have been standing to attention at the gate and I frowned, knowing I had never passed by any of the Vaults without seeing them in place before.

The male neophyte seemed to be unconscious and I frowned as I recognised Ogden Breeze, the asshole who had been disparaging the Reapers in the refectory several weeks ago. In the low light, I could just make out his chest moving, assuring me he was alive, but what the fuck were these Reapers doing with him?

"Quickly, now," the male Reaper beside Lily hissed, taking hold of Ogden, casting away the air so he landed on the floor between them.

"Do it fast," Lily encouraged.

"Let's wake him first, let him see the creatures he scorned have come to reap justice from his bones," Grey said keenly, reaching forward to wake him and making my heart judder from what he'd said. This wasn't right. Why was Ogden being pulled out here in the middle of the night in secret? The Reapers' punishments were always public. What point was there to this?

Grey was a thin sort of man, his cheeks hollow and his eyes sunken, but the lifeless look to his face was lost as he forced Ogden to stir awake with a blast of air magic driving against his face. Ogden cried out, blinking up at the three Reapers in confusion as he started to scramble away.

The Sky Witch tensed beside me and I glanced at her, wondering if she was going to step out in aid of her fellow Skyforger, but I found only a stony hardness to her expression as she held her ground.

"For the Void," Reaper Lily said in reverence, kissing two of her fingers and painting some shape in the air. My mind jarred at that word. The Void? As in the weapon mentioned in the Elysium Prophecy? Was she just showing her devotion to it, or had there been more meaning to her words?

"What's happening? Where am I?" Ogden murmured, trying to get up but Grey knocked him down with a blast of air. He took a silver knife from his cloak and pounced on Ogden while the other two cast a combination of vines from earth magic and coils of air to hold him down. Ogden screamed as Grey drove the knife into his chest, once, twice, three times, blood splashing across his gold cloak and splattering the flagstones.

I stared at the brutal murder in shock, unable to understand why this was happening and shuddering as Ogden fell still beneath Grey. The Reaper stood, tipping his head back and murmuring words in such a low voice that I couldn't catch them, then the three of them began hurrying this way, leaving Ogden's bloody body by the gates.

The Sky Witch and I shrank back into the alcove as they passed and despite my silencing shield, I was sure both of us held our breaths until they were gone.

When we were certain they were far enough away, the two of us quietly stepped out into the passage and looked to the lifeless body of Ogden.

"Why?" I whispered, confounded and horrified by what I'd seen.

"The Reapers are hiding things. And Ogden was a non-believer," the Sky Witch answered in a low voice, glancing at me warily as I eyed her with equal concern.

Was she about to strike at me? The tension in her posture said she was on guard, but I didn't reach for my blade, a silent agreement passing between us before we slowly stepped away from each other, her towards the Vault of Sky and me in the other direction.

"Say nothing of this," she warned.

"I have no one to tell," I growled, though I regretted that admission the moment it left my lips.

"All the better then." She turned and strode for the gates, careful to avoid stepping in any of the blood and leaving Ogden to his fate on the floor.

He was long beyond help anyway, and he was no warrior of my land. I had no allegiance to him. But as I turned and rushed back in the direction of my own Vault, something didn't sit right with me about his death. It had been cold blooded, meaningless, and no matter what side of the war you stood on, most Fae hoped for a warrior's death. Ogden had had that stolen from him…but why?