The firebird swooped past, the tip of a massive, fiery wing grazing the back of Ruban’s head for less than a second. Ruban flinched, then ground his teeth together in frustration.

His body refused to believe what his mind knew to be a fact – that the flames enveloping a firebird were harmless. Still, his hyperactive survival instinct went into overdrive every time one of the conflagrant birds flew close to him.

A silvery mist surrounded them, partly obscuring the ethereal, evanescent motifs that ever adorned the architecture of Vaan.

“Stop fidgeting,” Ashwin snapped, tying off the gauze bandage he’d been wrapping carefully around Ruban’s shoulder. “There’s a reason why the nurses at Hermanos couldn’t wait to get rid of you. You’d try the patience of a saint.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I find myself in the care of the devil.”

The firebird swooped over them once again, this time flapping its gigantic wings directly in Ruban’s face.

“Nobody badmouths my brother in these realms but me.” Safaa swept in on partly outstretched wings, rending the silvery mist until it was gone. The unruly firebird came to perch on her shoulder. “Even when he deserves it richly.”

Ashwin ignored her, poking at Ruban’s heavily bandaged shoulder. “I knew I should’ve asked the ward nurse for more medical tape. The upper edges are coming off already, what with all your fidgeting.”

Safaa eyed Ruban’s bandaged shoulder, prompting him to tug futilely at his partly-undone shirt. Ashwin smacked his hand away, muttering irritably.

“You’ll certainly need to stock up on medical supplies if you fail to secure official recognition for this alliance in the near future.” Safaa spoke softly, petting the firebird perched on her shoulder. Even so, the sharp edge to her voice was hard to miss. “Because these attempted lynchings are getting worse by the day. And I can’t – won’t – command my people to fight defensively and spare civilian lives. Not when these so-called civilians are forming cults to actively hunt down and exterminate our kind.”

“And you think the Aeriel lynchings will stop if the IAW announced an official alliance with Vaan?” Ruban scoffed, waving Ashwin away. The dull ache in his shoulder was leaving him in no mood for Safaa’s persistent politicking. “I know common sense has been out of vogue with you lot for over six hundred years, but do try to make an effort.

“Humans – especially Vandrans – are not used to thinking of Aeriels as anything but the enemy. And the destruction at Reivaa’s castle last year didn’t exactly help your image, not to mention Tauheen’s murderous rampage the year before.

“An open declaration of alliance between Vaan and Vandram will serve only to enrage the public, and they’re agitated enough by the rumors as it is. Then we’ll be left dealing with widespread public unrest – maybe even a civil war – on top of the goddamn lynchings.”

“And that’s exactly the perception we’re hoping to change with this alliance, is it not?” Safaa demanded, taking a step forward. “Keeping it under wraps indefinitely won’t help humans and Aeriels learn to trust one another.”

“Humans can never trust Aeriels anyway.” Ruban refused to back down. “Not while the Exiles are still on the loose, wreaking havoc in residential neighborhoods and terrorizing civilians. The average human doesn’t know the difference between an Exile and a scout from Vaan. Hell, most Hunters don’t even know— ouch!”

“Ah, I’m so sorry.” Ashwin held up his hands, smiling apologetically. “My mistake. I’ve made the knot tighter than I should have. Silly me.”

Ruban’s eyes narrowed as Ashwin began gently unwrapping a section of the bandage. He could’ve sworn the knot had been fine until the latter had tugged at it, quite deliberately, causing the gauze to dig into his seared skin.

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“It’s fine,” Ruban grunted, trying to pull away. “Just a superficial wound. The vankrai was barely alive by the time it let that last shell loose. I could’ve dodged it if I wasn’t trying to keep that idiot cultist alive.”

Holding him effortlessly in place, Ashwin continued to work on the bandage. “He was in the ICU by the time you were discharged. Your pet cultist, I mean. Last I saw him, he was mumbling something about a reinforced sifblade.”

Ruban stiffened.

One elegant eyebrow quirked, Safaa hummed thoughtfully. “Is this the cult that’s been attacking my scouts with reinforced sif? I’ve heard they’re calling themselves the Humans Against Vaan Alliance.”

“HAVA, yes.” Ruban said through gritted teeth. “They’ve been trying to use reinforced sif as leverage to negotiate with the IAW. It won’t work. The IAW doesn’t strike bargains with vigilante groups, especially not the ones that impinge upon their authority and jurisdiction.”

“That’s not the point, though, is it?” Safaa asked. “The real question is, how did an anti-Aeriel cult get their hands on this reinforced sifblade? I thought the blades were still in the testing phase, with only the chief of every Hunter Quarter allowed access to one.”

The three massive ivory pillars behind Safaa shimmered in the ever-present sunlight. Their intricate, silvery patterns were only just reemerging from the newly-dissipated mist.

Ruban blinked, wrenching his focus back from their ethereal surroundings. “That’s true. These reinforced sifblades are prototypes – not yet fully stable. Only the Chief Hunter at each Quarter is supposed to have access to one. The front-line forces don’t have the training for it yet. The entire Corps would have to be retrained—”

“And yet the HAVA protestors had somehow procured one of your precious prototypes for their DIY Aeriel-lynching campaign,” Ashwin interrupted lazily. “Which can only be explained one of two ways. Either a Hunter – or perhaps a SifCo scientist with sufficient clearance – is a member of HAVA and stole the sifblade on behalf of the cult. Or, more likely, someone within the Hunter Corps is actively covering for the thief. There’re only about half a dozen reinforced sifblades in Ragah. If one of them had gone missing, we should’ve heard about it by now.”

Much as he wanted to dismiss the idea, it made sense. Ruban groaned, fingers digging into the bridge of his nose to try and ward off a headache. “Be that as it may, the Cabinet will never agree to an open alliance with Vaan. You know as well as I do it would be political suicide. They may want to avoid a war with Vaan, but not more than they want to cling to their ever-shrinking majority in parliament.”

“Well, if mortal politicking gets in the way of this alliance, Aeriels won’t be the only ones to pay the price.” Safaa pinned Ruban with her silver-flecked gaze. “If the lynchings aren’t stopped, they will incite retaliation – both among our people and among the Exiles. Especially now that the cults seemingly have access to reinforced sif. There are few motivators more potent than fear, after all.”

“Fear?” Ruban repeated, skeptical.

Safaa smiled. “Aeriels are immortal, Ruban. Until recently we were also invincible. Six hundred years isn’t all that long in the lifespan of an Aeriel. There are few things in the universe that Aeriels fear—”

“Except reinforced sif?” Ruban grinned, feeling oddly smug.

“Except reinforced sif.” Safaa agreed. “It scares us. And that should scare you, too. Because, having had no practice with it in the past, fear isn’t an emotion most Aeriels know how to handle.

“So, should the alliance fall through – should you give them a reason to feel too scared – they might just lash out in a panic. Emotions were never our strong suit, as you well know,” Safaa sighed.

“Even at the height of her misrule, my mother never had the support of so much as a quarter of Vaan’s population. If you manage to provoke Vaan into open hostilities, everything from the Rebellion to Tauheen’s antics over the centuries will seem like child’s play by comparison. A war between the two realms will decimate earth, even as it may annihilate Vaan. Do you honestly believe your petty political squabbles to be worth the risk?”

The firebird lifted off from Safaa’s shoulder and began circling them slowly. Its passage cast the surrounding structures in gold, causing illusory movements in the intricate motifs etched on their surface.

“Is that a threat?” Ruban asked with uncharacteristic placidity.

“No, it’s a fact.” Ashwin moved to perch on a cloud that’d been drifting slowly past them. “Most Aeriels have the temperament of a poorly-socialized bulldog. All mild and affable until you confiscate their chew bone and have the pleasure of feeling those jaws locked around your kneecap.”

Ruban cocked his head, frowning. “The specificity of that metaphor worries me.”

“The point is,” Ashwin spread both hands out before him. “That an open alliance between earth and Vaan is the need of the hour. It’s imperative. And if the Cabinet can’t yet muster the political will to make it happen, then the least we can do is extend a helping hand.”

Through the sense of foreboding that suffused him, Ruban forced himself to ask: “And how do you plan to do that?”

“I’ve got you front-row seats to the show, and you want me to give you the spoilers?” Ashwin pouted. “Where’s the fun in that?”