Making my way back through the side streets to avoid the main thoroughfares was the right choice. The vast majority of people keep to the main streets, and the few I run into on the out-of-the-way paths seem to be about as interested in discussion as me. I do notice a spare handful of people who seem to look at me more intently, and a couple of others whose stares focus on my glaive as it taps along the ground with my strides.

  I pay no special attention to any of them. I imagine adventurers with strange equipment must be fairly common around here, so it’s probably just idle curiosity or the simple fact that I’m…a bit stand out. But I’d rather stand out because of my equipment or mysteriousness, rather than people realizing what I am. Freelancers and other self-styled “heroes” are a lot more likely to know enough about my kind and to make an issue of things.

  “Then again, I suppose with the elemental serpents leaving the world stage, it means that with every year that passes people will be less and less likely to know anything about us…” The thought crosses my mind with a bittersweet feeling. A passing moment of feeling safer followed with a much longer lasting feeling of loneliness that carries me the rest of the way to the center of town.

  On arriving, I realize I’ve stopped paying attention and haven’t really been keeping track of my surroundings for most of the walk. “Chin up, focus.” I scold myself mentally for a moment before adopting my play-acting posture and heading into the town square.

  It’s probably five times busier than it was earlier, something that fills me with no small amount of dread. I focus and pick my route through the crowd carefully to avoid running into anyone or being bumped into, and mostly succeed. The only exception is when someone bumps into me directly from behind, almost knocking me over. The only place I couldn’t account for.

  When I turn around with a sharp remark on my lips, I realize I’m looking up and up at someone who's pushing near nine feet tall, and proportionally broad. My comment dies on my lips as I take them in. Taller than me by over two feet, wearing very little by way of clothes other than loose fitting and baggy pants covered in pockets and elaborate jewelry on his neck, wrists, and seemingly imbedded in his skin. Skin that is, itself a dark tan tone, with little rivers of runic scriptwork all over his well muscled frame that feels at least partially comprised of Ignia based on how it tugs at me, but it’s almost certainly a compound of some kind.

  He looks down at me with a big, toothy smile that disarms some of my immediate paranoia. “Aya, sorry there little’un. Too many other little’uns scurryin’ ‘round my feet, I tripped!” He chuckles and pats me on the arm with a bit of force that moves me to the side a hair. “Tha’s a real nice weapon. It somethin’ custom?”

  “It’s alright, accidents happen. I’ve gotta be on my way though.” I draw my hood closer after nodding politely and turning away to close the rest of the distance to the central board and leave the interaction behind me.

  The central board area is a handful of large paneled bulletin boards with dockets pinned to them. Each bears a different label: Meadowfields Bound, Kaymaria Bound, Kharbon Bound, and Local. There’s some smaller ones with what appear to be personal requests, too, though most people are gathered around the big ones. Notably, the one labeled Meadowfields is barren. Not a single note or sheaf of paper on it, something that seems to have a couple people standing in front of it agitated and discussing amongst themselves where to go instead.

  The central board has the most jobs, and also an accompanying map that I inspect — it shows the local region between Meadowfields and Kharbon, with Silverbrook in the center. It details local landmarks, likely monster dens that are marked with associated jobs, threats along traveled routes that have been reported, and other pieces of useful data to travelers like weather reports.

  Finally, the one that interests me, jobs covering the route to Kharbon. They’re a bit more sparse than the local jobs, presumably because it’s a more heavily traveled route. But after scanning over a few that involve clearing monster nests that I pass over due to the listed level of danger, I find one hunting a specific monster called a Mosscale Creeper. The job is posted by a guild devoted to highway safety, and has a note appended to it in clean, block, handwriting detailing its likely abilities and a more specific location.

  “We can manage a single monster between the three of us, probably. And the pay is pretty good, I think. I’ll just look into a local bookstore and see if I can find anything about it in specific to better prepare us…” I look at the local town map and see a location listed as “Bert’s Books” that is a good bit off the beaten path. I make note of it.

  I unpin and remove the job listing and fold it away into my pocket, returning the pin to the board and turn to leave. I pause for a brief moment as I see a bit of movement out of the corner of my eye and when I look I see the knight from last night — the one who helped us get inside.

  I’m torn for a moment, wanting to say thanks, but really not wanting to invite any more interactions with anyone, let alone someone who might feel more obligated to keep the discussion going…

  I decide on the colder course of action, as much as it pains me, since it’s not just my own potential safety in the balance, and just walk off.

  The decision hangs over me as I go. Pa’ always said to pay thanks to people who help…but he would probably understand. I hope.

  Heading into the side streets and further off into an alley, I find the store. It’s a simple affair. No big glass storefront, just a simple, obviously hand carved, sign with an open book on it hanging from the front above a heavy looking wooden door. The alley itself is fairly dark, with the high buildings on either side of it running north and south to obscure the sun's light. It gives the whole area an almost eerie feel, like it's disconnected from the rest of the town by time, not just distance: remaining in the prior day's twilight.

  I shake the thought away and head inside to search for an informational text. Inside is about what I’d expected. Wall-to-wall books, with close-in shelves. No sorting system of any identifiable kind, and a proprietor who knows exactly where every single book is and what their general contents are anyway. In short order, I walk away with “Grazz’s Grimoire: A Guide to Monsters, Beasts, and Magical Plants.” I’d have liked to stay longer and discuss with the elder beastkyn, but I didn’t feel safe risking an extended discussion with someone who has such a demonstrably fantastic memory. Maybe someday I’ll come back, but…it’s hard to say.

  As the bell attached to the door chimes my departure and I stow my acquisition in the storage bag, I step into the alley again, feeling the same wave of eeriness that I did the first time. I dispel the thought with some focus — I need to get back to the inn to catch up with everyone. And bring some food as well. I’ve passed by countless stalls that’d be worth visiting, I think.

  As I make my way back towards the main road, I’m roused from my internal thoughts by someone stepping into the alley in front of me. Instantly, I feel my heart spike. It’s the titanblooded man from earlier, wearing the same broad, toothy, grin. The smile fails to reach his eyes though, which remain sharp and predatory.

  We make hard eye contact, and as he opens his mouth to talk, I turn on my heel to return the way I came. If I get back to the store, maybe-

  I bounce off the chest of someone even bigger than the man in every dimension and stumble backwards a few paces. A woman of the same ancestry as the man, possibly related if their faces are anything to go by. She’s a body match for him aside the scale difference — muscled beyond any other mortal races I’ve met or heard of, just as tattooed, but with marginally disproportionate muscles in the arms. She gives me a sneer of derision as I fall back a few more steps, intending to put my back to a wall.

  I may not really know how to fight people, but common sense dictates I try to keep both of them within line of sight if possible.

  “I think you might have mistaken me for someone else. Not from around here.” I try and fail to keep a note of fear from my voice and try to bolster myself by calling Aero to myself and immediately starting to feed it to my body as an Imbuement. Speed of action and thought will serve me better here. These two clearly have me on strength and trying to match them in that field would be a fools' errand.

  “Ah. Bryce, ‘tink we got the wrong “hooded, bulky, figure walkin’ with an Oathkeeper’s glaive”?” She snarls at the man as they both move closer to me from either side. The name they call the glaive means nothing to me though.

  “Nah. Sister, I think she’s the one.” He extends a hand towards me with palm up, “How ‘bout it, can I see ya’ weapon? I’m somethin’ of a collector.”

  “I think I’d rather not, if It’s all the same to you. I re-”

  ““Really have to be going,“ I know. I tried to be nice earlier, but ya’ blew me off then too. Tryna’ do it again. Real rude. Not very neighborly. I thought Eldaran’s are supposed ‘ta be friendlier.”

  “Guess I’m not an Eldaran then, sorry to disappoint.” I try to muster as much confidence as I can, but It’s hard to, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out these people are dangerous.

  “Com’on little’un, we can be nice if you are. We can be mean, too, if ya’ like.” The woman shoves my shoulder while the man’s hand strikes out and snags my weapon from momentarily loose hands.

  My back bounces off the wall as my mind races. I have more potent weapons than the glaive, and so I start taking sharp and shallow breaths, alternating between Aero and Ignia as I do.

  “Lis’n, little one, if you’re gonna walk ‘round with somethin’ this nice, I think ya should show us ya other toys.” The woman says with a clear threat.

  The man follows on without missing a beat or giving me a moment to respond. “What’ve ya got under the robes, huh? More fine gear like this’n? Just give us a peek, yah?” His meaty hands grab my ill’fitting cloak and yanks it, tugging me away from the wall with it and pulling one wing at a terrifically painful angle as I’m fully revealed in the alleyway. I’m momentarily stunned and know I’m making all of the wrong decisions, but am entirely at a loss of what the right thing to do is here. Her next words chill me to my core.

  “Now there was som’thin valuable under the robes. Didn’t know there were any of you left. Boss’d love to talk to ya, little’un.” She reaches in and grabs my wing at its middle joint and squeezes painfully hard before I can recoil, and I let out a yelp of pain. I’ve never had something hurt my wings before and the pain is nearly crippling when she grinds her hand on the knuckle of the wing.

  It brings a moment of clarity as I ready to unleash my breath — damn the consequences — but I hear a series of soft steps and see something moving towards us like a shiny black blur with golden light haloing around their legs. My assailants seem none the wiser, so I try not to give them away in the moment of surprise, praying to the breath of the sun herself that the new arrival is an ally.

  My prayer is answered a moment later as the blur plants their feet for an instant and leaps into a dropkick into the woman’s side with all of the additional imparted momentum. The impact hits with an audible crack before it’s followed by a moment of resistance that ends with one of the most sickening noises I think I’ve ever heard — a thick and durable bone snapping. Immediately following, the warrior kicks off the woman and lands low. All over their armor, I see more runes than I can count flaring to life with each and every motion.

  I realize that it’s the knight from last night. Come to help once more, it seems.

  Her hand releases my wing as both of my assailants turn to meet the interloper forgetting about me for the moment. The titanic woman moves one hand into a lightning fast swing that the warrior-in-black ducks beneath with an almost preternatural speed, landing a series of strikes on the knee of the giant with the motion. Each strike sends a cascade of green motes of essence from the woman as a barrier of some sort reveals itself. As those strikes resolve, I see the titanic punch slam into an adjacent wall on the carry through, denting the metal bracing of the building.

  Thoughts racing, scared out of my mind, and watching people who clearly know what they’re doing fight, I… stumble backwards away from the fight into a corner and freeze. Someone fighting for me — it wrenches my dream back to the front of my mind. I hadn’t had it since we left. Since I awakened my breath and started moving forward. As blows are traded in the periphery of my senses, I hear the distant sounds of Ma’ fighting at the cave mouth before she would stumble back into the cave and collapse.

  I look up and out of the memory. At some point, I sat down and tucked my body in, hugging my knees. I feel myself starting to hyperventilate as I watch my erstwhile savior dive to the left to avoid a strike from the male. A strike made with Ma’s glaive. My glaive. It misses the knight by a hair’s breadth, but as they come out of their dodge, I see their posture shift after landing. I can’t see through their helmet — it’s a featureless black slate of glossy metal — but their body suddenly feels colder somehow. They snap to face the glaive and two daggers manifest in their hands from their belt in a blur.

  The whole scene comes to a stop, with the two assailants breathing hard while the knight with the horned helm is unmoving. Like they’d been painted in place. No motions, just a clearly coiled posture.

  “Now I don’ know why you stuck your nose inta our business, but you’re gon’ regret it.” The female titan clashes her fists together, and the tattoos across her arms flare a bright green as a sheathe of gray stone appears around her arms — casting a spell using the tattoos as the focus, I suppose.

  The man with my glaive steps back, letting the larger woman take point, as she’s obviously the closer ranged combatant. Still, the knight doesn’t move, and as the woman steps in with a wide swing from a high angle, following with a quick jab from her other arm as part of a feint.

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  “GO! Do something! Fight!”

  I watch as it progresses in slow motion as the Aero I called and failed to shape after getting distracted suffuses into my body, speeding my perception. The knight finally moves, spinning into the wider swing and under their arm on that side. In one smooth motion, I see the knight's knife bite, slashing through the essence barrier with an explosion of green sparks as it collides. A sickening wet noise followed by colorful cursing results as the woman's arm is opened from wrist to elbow by the now retreating knight who completes their motion with a backwards handspring to create space before darting forward back at the woman they’d just laid open.

  They don’t see the male coming, apparently having focused on the woman and when I try to shout a warning, my voice doesn’t come. The glaive lands in the middle of their back with a deafening bang as it strikes their armor. Runes erupt across the glossy surface, sending a spray of essence motes in every direction.

  “Fight! Move!”

  The knight rides the blow wheeling into a handspring again. They redirect the motion into a kick leveled at the chin of the recovering woman as they release a knife. In one smooth motion, as one knife is dropped, three throwing knives appear in their hand from a brace on their shoulder.

  I hear wind begin to whip as the knights voice is distorted through their helmet.

  “Prevailing Win-”

  The sound is cut off as they swing their hand forward and release the knives which catapult away from them with a sound like three gunshots. The male knocks two aside with a quick motion, but the third sinks into his clavicle with a crunch as his essence barrier fails to stop the attack and dissipates in a shower of red sparks.

  I watch him rip the knife out of his collar with a curse as I hear a hollow tang as the woman, having recovered, steps into the knight's blindspot and lands a telling blow — a full-body punch into the side of the knight's head. The noise is deafening, and it shocks me to alertness again. I realize I haven’t moved. I’m still on the ground, and this knight is getting hurt for me.

  I won’t lose someone who’s fighting for me. Not again. I pull myself up as I see another punch land in the knights' midsection, and only a spare few of the runes on their armor ignite this time, and they loose a pained grunt as they’re lifted and tossed back by the punch into the wall, surrounded by a cascade of erupting stone as the woman’s spell bursts on impact.

  The male, on the other hand, is closing in with my glaive to join his counterpart against the dazed knight. I can’t fight the woman, but I can at least stymie the man. I throw myself forward and into his blind spot as he turns his back to me. With two wing beats I close the distance and slam into his back with my shoulder.

  It feels like colliding with a brick wall, and he barely even moves. I think I get hurt more by the action than he does. He does, however, react. He swings an elbow backwards as he twists to face me. I narrowly dodge the elbow — helped along by my Aero-enhanced senses — and I reach forward as he spins and rake my claws across his flank.

  With little effort, they tear four perpendicular lines across his side. My claws have always remained honed with little effort, and their tips have never broken — something I’ve always attributed to my Mineralis essence laced diet. He lets out a yowl of pain but brings the glaive around in a wide sweep, catching me with the pointed tip in the stomach as I try to back up.

  When it cuts, I feel the glaives’ enchantment activate at the same time I feel the blood across my skin. The armor stops the worst of it, but the energy sapping nature of the weapon draws much of the essence I’d been building up out of me, igniting the heads of the weapon as I stagger backwards. A bone chilling cold falls over me and I have to stop and focus, drawing fire from within the gates in my core.

  Behind the man, I hear a much worse scream of pain and see the knight kneeling next to the woman. Sliding on their knees, they withdraw their knife from the back of her knee after having clearly plunged it through something delicate a moment ago.

  The man also spins, his tattoos igniting as the glaive flashes towards the kneeling knight as the woman beside them collapses to her knees. I see the glaive’s edge turning molten as though cast in lava — something it doesn’t do, so I surmise it must be a spell from his tattoos.

  Having forgotten me entirely, I focus inwards, calling on more and more Ignia. In my minds eye, I see the little campfire sputtering in the dark. Barely any fuel. I imagine myself leaning down and breathing life into the fire. Bolstering it with my own Breath. “We are more than fire. We are heat. We are personal strength. Ignia is more than fire, it is a willingness to fight.” With each repetition, I feel the essence coming to my call, warming me to my core.

  I open my eyes a second later and see the knight get covered in a spray of magma thrown up by the man’s spell channeled through my weapon, coating their armor and causing the few remaining runes across its surface to throw off sparks. I feel my core temperature rising quickly and drastically as the knights steps into the mans guard and bursts essence outwards, throwing the magma off their armor and onto the man, who recoils back both from the essence wave and the magma being returned to its sender. I step forward into motion to try to join the fight again.

  But the knight moves faster. Following knocking him off guard, they spring forward, grabbing him about the collar while flipping over his head and dragging his body over and slamming into the ground. The arc completes with a single plunge of the knight’s dagger.

  At that moment, it feels like everything stops. I watch the knife sink into his chest, just at his collarbone with a slick tearing noise that seems to drown out the alley. The knight wastes no time, withdrawing the knife and springing to their feet with a smooth motion and turning to face what I recognize is the woman screaming a name as she charges at the knight.

  The knight, still recovering, is swept up in the woman’s arms and I watch the tattoos on her arms flash red a few times. Pulses of Ignia Imbuement, I sense even from this distance. I start to hear the armor creak in short order while the knight kicks at their captor and calls Ignia for themselves to try to bolster their strength.

  The wealth of Ignia in the air revitalizes me, too, and I begin to call upon the Breath. It becomes clear quickly that the knight isn’t going to be able to escape, so I try to move to a position where I’ll be able to do what I need to with limited collateral damage.

  I hear a shout of anger from within the helmet and brace myself, drawing in a final Breath before exhaling. I will the flame to free the knight and burn away the threats.

  Obliging my commands, when I exhale, the fire leaps from my throat with a snap of ignition and a roar of my own voice that is cut short by the torrent. The woman’s head snaps to the side to look at me with wide eyes. She has nowhere to go with me directly behind her, though, which also forces her to act as a shield for my savior.

  The flames reach her and stick to her like a soaked blanket, hugging her body as they creep across it. She drops the knight as she stumbles away. Leaving the knight to immediately kip up to their feet braced to defend themselves, but they stop stock still as they watch the Breathing flames leaping around the woman’s body, their own roars drowning out any noise she might be making.

  As she collapses, I realize that the knight is also on fire, though less aggressively. I rush forward and wrap myself around the knight, coiling my wings around them and calling the Ignia back to me — something it does with gusto. The feeling of the flames licking their way into my body through my scales feels shockingly good: I’ve never absorbed flames that way before: snuffing out a candle or the hearth? Countless times. But taking my will-imbued flames back fills me with a sort of vital warmth that’s hard to describe.

  As the flames die, and the knight remains there, standing stock still, I start apologizing. “I’m so so so so sorry! I thought I would have missed you! Are you okay? Hey! Can you hear me?” My voice comes frantic as the adrenaline of the situation starts to bleed from me.

  The knight's voice comes out tinny and hollow through their helm, speaking the first time since this encounter started, “I….yeah. I’m fine. I didn’t take any meaningful damage, all things considered.” Their voice, while distorted, comes across very factual, clinical — like someone filling out a report more than standing in the aftermath of lethal violence. I step back as they look down at me, standing half a foot taller than me. I pull my wings tight against my back, feeling serious embarrassment for setting the person who saved me on fire and pin my arms to my side. “I should ask you the same. They didn’t hurt you too badly, did they?”

  I look myself up and down before reporting a little more cheerily, feeling a wave of euphoria coming over me from the fight and the flames — something I always feel after fighting or hunting, “Nope! I’m just fine, I think. I’ll heal up just fine, though.” I shoot the knight a big smile in thanks.

  They reach up and fiddle with their helmet, trying to unseal it, it seems. After some struggling, I see them force a clasp open that’s on the dented side of the helm that they got hit. After some effort, it pops free with a cloud of actual steam coming out from inside. They have a head of shock white hair and drapes down, clinging to their face — her face, I realize — and coming off of her skin is tons of excess Ignia, turning to steam in the cold air. I find myself more than a little surprised at my internal reaction of more or less instant, but minor, infatuation. I also realize that she’s the same woman who saw Lilly last night.

  I chalk it up to the circumstances, being saved, and a bunch of other things. “That’s good to hear. I couldn’t just stand by and watch… that… Is there something on my face or something?” Her eyes are interesting, Golden yellow, with vertical slits, but with a luminous quality to them.

  “I’ve been staring. By the Breath of the sun, I’m staring at her. Calm down, Ayre.” I turn aside a little bit and stammer out an attempt at deflection but fail miserably. “I-I just wasn’t expecting the knight in shining armor who came to save the day to be p-pretty, I guess!” I offer awkwardly.

  She, either by choice or otherwise, responds equally awkwardly, “Ah, yeah, the armor tends to obscure us a lot. It’s mostly by design.” She shrugs and gestures away from the scene and farther down the alleys. I retrieve my glaive and walk alongside her. Being seen here wouldn’t be any good. Those people started it, but I don’t want to get involved if I can do anything about it. We’re probably going to need to leave as soon as possible.

  “What were you doing in the alleys here?” She asks with clear concern.

  “Oh, I was looking for a book at a little store back there. My group and I are heading to Cerbahn,“ She winces at my pronunciation, but nods. “And we're going to take care of a bounty on something. A stalking monster of some variety.” I pause, reaching into my bag to hold up the little tome. “I did get the book though!”

  She looks thoughtful. Not one for smiling, I guess. She does have expressive eyes, though. “Stop thinking about her eyes!”

  “A mosscale creeper, right?”

  “Oh! You know it? Yeah, they’re apparently pretty dangerous and an adult one is supposed to be stalking the roads to the city.”

  “Yeah. I do know it. It tried to eat me.” She says simply. “It’s quite dead now.” The deadpan delivery almost has me carry on without comment with how nonchalant she is about it.

  I suppose I’m not too surprised after watching her fight, but it's still disappointing. “Oh. That sucks. Well, we can find another contract, then. Good thing it’s gone anyways. I’m glad it didn’t eat you, for what it’s worth.” That gets a small smile, thankfully.

  “I didn’t claim the bounty — that’s not how we do things. I can mark down where I left the body for you if you’ve got a map. It’ll still be reasonably fresh and most of its materials are intact. You’re free to take it and report the kill.“ She shrugs, thinking for a moment as I trot alongside her. She reaches into a bag at her side — clearly something like my own — and offers me a dusty brown sphere with swirling magic inside. “It was a monster with a core, you’ll probably get a bonus if you turn that in alongside it. I was just going to sell it but don’t really need the money.” She shrugs again, more deeply.

  All I can do is stare. “Seriously? You’ll just…give me all of that?”

  “Why not? I don’t need it, and I’ve got to be on my way. Lightens my load and helps someone out, win-win.” She responds flatly. I hear a quiet chime from what must be her armor and watch as some of the parts eroded from the magma spell begin to reform. Some complex form of material synthesis? “Those thugs bothered you because of your gear and said you were especially interesting since there’s not many of you?” She makes an all encompassing gesture at wings, tail, and horns. I realize I’m entirely uncovered and just walking around with someone else in the open. “I’d be lying if I said I recognized your ancestry, but should you be seen publicly like this? I know the looks I get because of my horns, I imagine you’d get a more…extreme… reaction.”

  “I…probably shouldn’t, no. Wasn’t thinking of that.” I scold myself and look around, dispelling the smile I’d been wearing and replacing it with frustration as I find nothing of use.

  “Here, take this, then.” She reaches into her bag again and draws out an oversized traveling blanket. “It’ll look awkward, and definitely draw eyes, but it’ll draw eyes because you look like a cute, cold, weirdo rather than a…” She hesitates, gesturing to my body up and down with the blanket.

  “I can’t really afford to pay you back for all this help. I think that’s how it usually works, right?” I respond, turning away a little bit, and feeling pensive about owing someone something. Even someone who’s been this nice. Maybe especially someone who’s been this nice.

  “I just said I don’t need money. The Order keeps us well supplied and if I need another, I can buy it. Just take it, it’s fine.” She unfolds it and moves behind me to drape it over me as I draw my wings in tight. When I look over my shoulder I feel my eyes drawn to hers against my will. They’re just plainly interesting. That’s all.

  “Thanks. If we ever cross paths again, I’ll pay you back with interest.” I give her another smile in thanks, about the only thing I can afford right now, but she makes a dismissive gesture as I pull up a “hood” of the blanket.

  “You really don’t have to, but I appreciate the sentiment. I wish you well on your journey. Stay out of alleys and away from thugs, yeah?”

  She doesn’t smile in the mouth, but her eyes soften, and I turn to walk away before I blush.

  “Yeah, I’ll be more careful.” I start to leave, but need to ask. “What’s your name? I think I should at least thank my savior by name.”

  “Nyssa Vigil, Slayer Aspirant of the Order of the Eternal Vigil.” She gives me a courtly half bow with one arm across her belly and the other across her chest and a bow of the head, looking up at me through her bangs.

  Her eyes.

  “Wow, so formal, you really are a knight, huh? Lilly would love you.” I say, trying to distract myself from the growing warmth in my cheeks. “My name is Ayre, Ayre’A’khana… Nobody Important of the… Random Travelers of the Road.” I let out a small, awkward titter, and wave over my shoulder as I turn to leave. “Thank you, Nyssa Vigil, Slayer Aspirant of the Order the Eternal Vigil!” I trot off before I can look at her eyes again. Definitely not escaping. I just need to be getting back to the room as soon as possible with food.

  “Nyssa Vigil, maybe we will meet again someday.”

  I make my way back, catching a good few more eyes on the way, not least of which because I’m obviously walking and in pain with an arm across my stomach. Nobody does anything more than look, though. Thankfully. I quickly stop off at a few stalls, grabbing a small feast of foods with some of the remaining coin. I go for an assortment: none of us have really had city food, so it seems like a good way to maybe cheer everyone up a bit. It’s been feeling tense since we arrived. Lilly loves novelty, and maybe an array of options might jog Olly’s memory. Slim odds, but it doesn’t hurt, and we have to eat anyways so why waste the opportunity?

  When I arrive back at the inn, it’s substantially more calm. Only a dozen or so people are hanging around and discussing at more reasonable volumes and nobody I recognize or might recognize me is around. The proprietor gives me a questioning look and asks if I’ll be wanting any food, but I decline as I make my way to the stairs and up the flights to our room.

  Arriving at the top of the landing, I pull out the chit and wave it over the little reader, causing the door to pop open and for me to be instantly accosted by a very frantic Lilly.

  “He’s gone! I don’t know where he went, and I know I hurt his feelings, but I was going to try to make it up to him, but he scared me and I went to spy on his assassin-lover-friend-rival, and they were a demonkyn an-” The dust coming off of Lilly is muted and dull, not radiant. It’s something I’ve noted over the years that reflects her current mental state better than anything else. I think it’s involuntary, even. The shades it changes by are fractional though, so I doubt anyone but me or another fae would notice.

  “Slow down, Lilly. Start over.” I gently guide her back into the room because we really don’t need to have this discussion in public. I close the door behind us, and she fills me in on what happened between them as a creeping sense of dread fills my core.

  “Lilly, can you manage a glamor? Moving around the city like I have been while looking for Olly will be nearly impossible.” She looks pensive, but nods.

  [Shield my friend from prying eyes]

  [Wrapped in shadows, shades and lies]

  [See her walk with ease and peace]

  [Until all watchful gazes cease]

  But that aside, just who, exactly, is this Nyssa Vigil?

  That question has a very long answer: but the short one is that she is the MC of another story — the one being told concurrently with this one that will fairly regularly cross paths with the party.

  It's going to go up on my first, but the plan for me releasing these books is to alternate between the gang here's story, and Nyssa's as each book releases!

  As you can maybe surmise, Nyssa is much more action oriented than our current party. Where they're finding the world for the first time with wide eyes, she's a vastly more experienced person who has lived in society her entire life(Notably, not an orphan dragon, a faerie who never left home, or an amnesiac.). She's a fight brained, ass kicker, with the power of protagonist moxie on her side.

  And, hey, haven't we heard the name Nyssa recently?

  Something to consider.