Arthur Avalyn poured two more drinks, purple wine with honey and ginger. Burning wood sparked and crackled in the stone fireplace, filling Arthur's office with hypnotic warmth and the illusion of safety.

Arthur gave Milo Meiori a glass and sank into his armchair with satisfaction.

"To your son," Milo toasted, "and his unforgettable victory."

He raised his glass and rejoined, "To both our children! May their futures be bright!" They drank as one. Arthur lifted the cover of a wooden box on a table between their chairs, retrieving two cigars. A citrus aroma permeated the space. Arthur clipped each cigar and gave one to Milo.

The retired Steward of Lona was older than Arthur by a decade. Milo's wife Talia had died in childbirth a few months before Emma. When Arthur lost Emma, it was Milo that understood him best.

Milo was glancing sideways at Arthur like a man afraid to ask.

"Out with it, man," Arthur prodded with a grin.

"About our children's futures..." Milo said sheepishly. "I heard a rumor Adam wants new leadership for Vulpex. A single steward with four islands. And I heard he's looking at Rafael."

"Where did you hear this rumor?" Arthur leaned back in his chair and flicked his cigar.

"Don't fence with me. I saw that Good Brother with you at the tourney, and again last night, he set your son to task after a murderer... Is it true?"

Billowing grey smoke was Arthur's answer, "So he says."

Milo appeared at once annoyed and strangely triumphant. He leaned back in his seat and stared into the fire, finally, tragically resigned. A mess of emotions flashed across Milo's entire being, but Arthur interpreted only a few. It left him unsettled.

"Are you angry? You gave the stewardship to Haven years ago. Surely you don't miss it? Or are you upset that Haven wasn't considered first?"

"No, nothing like that," Milo said quickly. "I'm worried for you. I know you have secrets--don't worry--they're still yours... We've been friends all your life, Arthur. Don't think I haven't seen things, heard things. I noticed your captain disappeared. With greater authority comes greater scrutiny." Milo had moved to stand close to the fire. He turned and gestured toward the painting over Arthur's desk, 'Wrath of Godfather.'

"I've always hated that painting," he said. "It's morbid. I was at sea when he destroyed Inari. It haunts me to this day. And you've got the Flood of Exile hanging in your office. Inari was an island... How many died when Adam sank half a continent? Thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? There were five Vulpen Islands. Have you considered you might be risking the four that remain?"

Arthur was still. "What do you think you know?"

"I know nothing! I've always known nothing, like this conversation never happened..." He turned from Arthur to look out the window. "But we both know how this plays out. Rafael will be forced to marry some Garden girl. Meanwhile, the Church will expand their influence with a unified legal system. How long do you think you can smuggle fae under the nose of scrutiny?"

Arthur was confused. "What are you talking about?" Milo turned to face him, silhouetted by the setting sun, with clouds of pink and gold and blue and fiery red.

"The Fae Remnants. Whispers, mostly heard on the wind. They're smuggling aboard ships to Vulpex. Someone got clumsy, and now everybody knows. No doubt, that's why Adam took such a sudden interest."

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Arthur had no idea. "I've never heard of any Fae Remnants. You and your rumors. Where do you hear such things?"

"Familiars, Arthur, they're good for more than finger-speaking. Mine tells me the news and wakes me in the morning with tea. They know everything any familiar ever learned. Get with the times, man... If you're not smuggling the fae, what's really going on?"

Not for the first time, Arthur wanted to tell Milo everything. He would have confessed years ago, but Reynard objected. But they needed allies. They would need all the help they could muster. Arthur finished his drink and walked to lean on his desk, his cigar still on the arm table. He poured himself another glass for courage.

"Captain Reynard is secretly training Lyn to harness magic," he said with pride. "I never heard of these Remnants before tonight, but I assure you, finding them is now my highest priority."

Milo seemed deflated and somehow relieved, responding, "That's great news. Adam will give her a good life-"

"Adam will never find out. If he finds out she's got power, he'll take her to Garden. He'll give her away, like some thing, like he did to her mother. She'll be alone. I will not let that happen to her."

"It's not so bad. I hear from Nat once a month. She likes it there. It's beautiful. She's free to roam."

"She's not free. She's a gestation pod for more of Adam's magic babies."

"No one is entirely free to do as they wish. You're free to live because you knelt. You're free to rule Crescent because you serve Adam. Even if Adam never found Vulpex, you'd still be constrained by the laws of this land. You romanticize freedom. It doesn't exist. You want to 'liberate' people? From what? Since Adam took control, the church eradicated every major disease. The hungry are fed. Don't pretend you haven't loved all these fat tourists dropping gems all over your island."

"Yes, there's order and plenty. At what cost? He slaughtered our families, Milo. He killed the firefox. Haven't you dreamt of justice?"

There it was. An opening. A secret desire flashed in Milo's eyes, and also anger.

"Of course, I dream of it! For thirty years, I've dreamt of it, alongside nightmares of that!" Milo pointed at the 'Wrath of Godfather.' "He's too powerful! He can't be stopped!"

"That's not true."

Neither of them moved or breathed. Milo stared at him intensely.

"Don't be daft. He's a god. The entire planet worships Him."

"Adam is only a man. The power he wields, he stole from five ikons! He killed them and bound their souls to his regalia! Look at the picture. You can see them in detail: the crown, the gauntlets, the sword, and the belt. You remember them. Those are the source of his power! Separate him from those, and he can be killed. He's not God."

Milo's eyes opened in shock. His face displayed comprehension at first, then dread, as another voice, barely a whisper, chittering and hissing, said, "I've heard enough."

The door to Arthur's office opened with a bang. Brother Timothy stood in the frame, still smiling. He stepped into the room and the door shut behind him. A mean-looking wasp flew out from under Milo's chair to land on Timothy's shoulder. His familiar. A moan escaped Arthur. Milo was a tapestry of guilt and sorrow. Timothy drank it all in with a grin.

The wasp spoke first. "Arthur Avalyn, Steward of Crescent, for the crimes of heresy and attempted treason, I sentence you and your line to death."

Arthur didn't think. He didn't hesitate. His arms reached for the lamp on his desk and threw himself at Timothy. He needed to die. Arthur had to warn his children. Fear and adrenaline made him quick. Timothy stood calmly. But the fear driving Arthur was snuffed out by dread when Arthur saw Timothy's smile. As the base of the lamp collided with Timothy's temple, his smile became genuine and sinister, not the mechanical one worn earlier; this was the grin of a winner. Timothy's eyes were wide with excitement, and was that relief? As his body fell to the ground, a worried pause overtook Arthur. Hesitantly, he moved toward the door. But he wouldn't get far.

A dark grey smoking form rose out of Timothy's twitching body. It looked at Arthur. He ran like a mouse from a cat, the most fearsome, the image of death, with eyes that glow like rings in the dark, bearing swiftly upon its morsel.

It disappeared into Arthur's body, who stood limply for a moment, lurched and seized, and finally collapsed upon the floor.

Milo watched it all grimly. At last, his shoulders fell, and he hunched over Arthur's desk.

The wasp flew from Timothy's body to land gently upon Arthur's face, locked in horror and despair, staring out at nothing as Timothy's blood spread across the floor.