The evening sun sat just before the western peaks of the Niflheim Range, the line of mountains encircling Dargas and the Nubian Plains. Swathes of red-orange light bathed the cloud streaked sky, as the Basin soaked in the ambient glow. Tapestries came to life in the font of evening’s hues, while bronze jewelry shined like beacons of Amarian pride. It was a fitting phenomenon. After all, the start and end of the day were considered sacred by them.

Dusk and dawn. A breath in. A breath out, and the day starts anew. It was an old Amarian saying, coined long before the city’s history. Back then Amarians’ were nomadic in spirit. They’d wandered the land for generations, stopping only to embrace the breath of the world… at least that’s what Saadya used to say.

He remembered when she’d talked of Amarian travels fondly. Tales of conquest and heroics told by a campfire beside dozens of awe-struck eyes. Those stories inspired hundreds to fight for a better life; but now they were just words caught in the Basin, trapped in Joshua’s Drain.

The last crowds of the day were thinning off the streets, as Amos limped down the line of ramparts and cramped housing. Guards must’ve run through here hard for the streets to be this clear. It wasn’t unexpected, of course. He’d been busy today, but— fuck! Amos held back a snarl as a stranger running past bumped into his shoulder. Heat and pain flared all over as he staggered back from the blow. Street’s empty and you still manage to find me? He was always a magnet for fucking idiots, on the plains or in the city—

You’re pathetic. It was the warden, of course, talking from some God-forsaken part of his mind.

Amos grabbed his shoulder and kept walking… limping, whatever he could manage to do. “Because I don’t like getting hit?”

Because you got hit and now you’re slinking away, running home because some kid told you off. The warden chuckled in his mind. I know where you’re going. He snickered again. Besides, we both know you like getting hit a little—

“I don’t,” Amos spat, but he hesitated on his next words. “And I’m not slinking anywhere. This is just part of the plan.” He paused as he walked past a couple on the road. “Why do you care anyways? I thought you wanted to enjoy the ride.

When you were being exciting, sure! The warden said. But this is just sad. You know she won’t help you, and you’re going anyway. Now he was grumbling. Bite off some guy’s neck on the way and then I’ll start having fun…

Why am I even listening to this? Amos thought to himself, then he shook his head. Just ignore him. He’s wrong. He’s always wrong. His stomach balled up in knots as he tried to let those words stand.

At least I hope he is.

Up ahead the line of rooftops to his right dipped low, as a small shack with a rampart jutting out its roof came into view. She usually stays late. Let’s hope today’s at least that normal. He started heading toward the building.

The front was unmanned. That’s weird, Amos thought. I guess she sent them away once the guards started coming around. It was either that or she left, which… maybe wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He stepped up to the door. Why did he want to see her anyways? She wouldn’t help him. She didn’t before—

No! Amos spat in his thoughts. I’m doing this. I have to.

He knocked on the door.

After a moment Amos heard footsteps and rustling coming from indoors.

“What did you forget Reshi?” A familiar voice called out. “I told you I don’t want you on the streets.” The door swung open… and there was Saadya, standing beneath its frame.

Astonishment leapt from her face, as her eyes went wide and her jaw fell open; but then the emotion faded. Her face reformed until a placid mask was all that remained. After that there was only silence.

They stared at each other a while, until Amos cleared his throat. “Saadya,” he said softly. His lips moved slow as all the words he’d thought he would say raced through his mind. Why did you never come after me? Why did you never even look? He felt his rage brewing inside him. Why did you let them hurt me? Part of him wanted to scream it all in her face right there. To let her feel the heat of his anger in her bones, but how would that help me now? He took a breath and swallowed down his pain. “I—”

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“Why are you here?” She asked.

Just tell her the truth. “I need your help.”

She looked him over again before sighing and turning away from the front. She started to walk back in, leaving the door open.

Amos groaned as he watched her leave. That wasn’t a no. He stepped inside.

The ambience was just as he remembered it. Tables scattered before the back counter. The winding staircase, leading to the rampart jutting out overhead.

“Why should I help you?” Saadya asked, turning and heading towards him. “After you walked away from us? From me?”

Amos nearly snarled at those words as he closed the door behind him. “I didn’t help anyone,” he said, striding over to meet her. “I could have. I could have made things much worse, but instead I just walked away. That’s what I did for you.”

“And now you’re back,” Saadya said, standing just before him now. “Alive…” She reached out and held his face, letting her hand fall from there to his chest. Her fingers grazed the tip of one of his many scars. Most of them were new to her. Her gaze lingered there for a moment, then wandered down to his hand, which she took in her own and unveiled the circular scar on his palm. “We thought you were—”

“I wasn’t.”

She took his hand with both of hers and held it tight. “I thought you were—”

He snatched it back. “I wasn’t.”

Saadya looked him over again, but this time her careful mask gave way as grief marred her sanguine glow. Deep lines formed along her face from regrets he knew she’d earned, and a somber glean filled her eyes. She closed them after a moment though and tucked her pain away as well. He hadn’t expected any different. Feeling sorry never stopped her before. “Then why are you here?”

“Like I said,” Amos groaned, as he stepped back, then around her, heading toward her usual spot in the room. “I need your help.”

Saadya sighed then turned toward him. “Help with what?”

Amos stopped just before the table. “I was… in a fight recently,” he said. “I need to heal.”

Saadya smirked. “Well, that doesn’t surprise me,” she said. Then she gave him a curious look. “But you’re not a boy anymore. You don’t need my help to do that.”

“I just said I do.”

“Then tell me why?”

“Because—” Amos nearly choked on the words. “Because the Reema… my connection… it’s gone.”

Saadya took in those words for a moment then started to head towards the table. “ Your bond,” she said, “was always unique and always fragile, but I doubt it’s gone.”

“Well, it’s not working!” Amos said. “And you’re the only one left who can do a Nagata.”

“That ritual is risky,” Saadya said flatly. “Especially if you can’t move Reema on your own.” She came up to him again. “The block may only be temporary we… we can work through it—”

“There’s no time!” Amos spat. “I need to be better and I can’t wait.”

“This is not making you better,” Saadya said. “A Nagata is not a real bond. I’m only forcing Reema into you.”

“I know what it does—”

“Then you know it’ll be painful, and most likely damage your ability to hold Reema in the future!”

“I don’t care!” Amos said. Then he took a breath. He pulled a chair from the table over and spun it around. “I don’t care.” As he said those words he took off his cloak and threw it over the back of the chair. “I won’t be powerless any more.” He then took off his shirt and threw it on the table, before sitting down backwards in his chair. “Now will you help me or not?”

Only silence met Amos as he sat, but he could feel Saadya’s glare behind him.

“Fine,” Saadya said at last.

Amos sighed as he felt her hand against his back.

“This will hurt,” she said.

“Pain’s nothing new,” Amos said. “Let’s get this done.”

Saadya sighed and pressed her hand properly along the nape of his neck. He picked up a wooden spoon left on the table and placed it in his mouth.

A moment later the pain began.

Heat rose from the spot she touched. It singed and burned his veins as it radiated through him. He bit down hard against the torture as it ate at his flesh, seared against his wounds. I can take it! I will! The pain pulsed and grew worse still. Amos gripped the chair tight as the Nagata reached its zenith. Burning. Burning. Saadya lifted her hand.

“It’s done,” she said, “but you’ll still be weak for a day or so.”

Amos panted and sagged down as the sweat dripped off his brow. “That’s fine.” He grabbed his shirt. After that he took his cloak and carefully made his way to his feet. “I’ll go.” He started heading toward the door.

Saadya met his gaze as he came up to her again. “That’s it?”

Amos stayed like that for a moment then looked away and walked past her. “What else is there?” He’d almost made it to the door before Saadya spoke again.

“Don’t expect me to do this again,” she said, turning towards him. “I’ve never been able to stop you, but I won’t watch you destroy yourself. Not again.”

Amos looked her over a last time, before turning back to the front. “I was already dead to you once. Second time hardly matters.” With that he pushed open the door and headed back out onto the street.