From the top of the cliffs, she watches the ocean stretch for miles. Lunar Forest still lurks from behind the pleasant tree line but she’s happy to put that adventure to rest. She adds twigs to the growing embers of their fire and adjusts the fish skewers. From the corner of her eye, she spies Eclipse lounging under a tree.

Sara pretends to stalk him like a cub, despite how quiet she imagines she is; Moira knows better. She knows he hears her heavy exhales and every blade of grass bending to her clumsy form. He feels the pounding of the earth as she clumps like a horse towards him. She pounces, landing beside him, and snuggles into his fur.

“What’s it like being a big cat?”

“I am not a cat. We have been through this; I am a Guardian.”

“Did you ever wish you were something else? Born a different thing?”

“I was created in this form to fulfil my destiny. I do not expect you to understand.”

“What is it you have to do exactly?”

“I must protect my Mage. My purpose is to keep her safe. I only exist as long as she needs me.”

“And what happens when she doesn’t?”

“Eclipse, Sara, lunch time!” she calls, let’s save that conversation for another day. She pulls the skewers from the fireside, handing them their share. As she indulges in the feast, Eclipse licks his paws; reiterating the plan aloud.

“When we arrive it is of the upmost importance that you remain with either me or Moira.” But Sara is more focused on a red insect crawling over her boot than his directions. “This is serious,” he repeats, “this kingdom is too dangerous for a little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl, I'm eight years old!”

“Either way,” Moira interrupts, “I need you to be with either me or Eclipse at all times.”

“I don’t get it, I was fine in Bellavere. Why’s this place different?”

“Lollardum is the most populated kingdom of Umara. You can get lost and I’ll never find you.”

“Second,” he adds, “certain gangs steal children and force them to work in factories. Frankly if you are stupid enough to get kidnapped then, you can stay that way.”

“Eclipse, be good.”

“Make it simple. She leaves our side, they take her.”

“You’re lying again!”

“Some factory owners prefer children to work the small intricate machinery. What he's saying is true. Thief and press gangs steal children and sell them to factories for a profit.”

“And I will add, Moira, you need to pay close attention to her as well.”

“This isn’t my first time, I’m aware of its dangers. Which reminds me. There will be many kinds of people there. Some may look different than you. It’s best not to stare. Keep your head low, people are anxious to start a fight with anyone.”

“We do not need you to draw attention to us.”

“Why?”

“It’s because of what I am, my kind isn’t welcomed there. They're afraid I’ll hurt them. And because of that fear, they become violent. They’ll shout things. Horrible—vulgar— things and do anything to make me mad.” Moira raises a finger to quell Sara's question, “they feel if they make me mad—they have won. The point, that Eclipse is trying to make (and failing to do so) is that I can get hurt there. So, we need you to be a good girl, stay close, stay quiet, and keep up. I can’t protect you if I’m dead. Do you understand?”

“Why… do they think you’ll hurt them?”

“Because I can hurt them. You’ve seen what this staff can do, I have the power to kill if I had too.”

“But will you?”

“It depends,” she frowns. The Academy taught her, that she exists to maintain peace. But the longer she spends among the continent, the more she questions her role. She saw the power her kind covets. The greed fueling their policies and choices. She walks an uncomfortable line between faith and reality.

“We will reunite you with your aunt. Moira made a promise and that is what we will do.” Eclipse nudges his face against her tiny shoulders. “You are safe with us. It will make our job easier if you follow the rules.”

“Keep up, don’t stare, and stay close.” She repeats pressing her face against his.

“And how about we leave Charcoal inside the Eye from now on? Dragons and densely populated areas don’t mix.”

“He’ll stay close too,” she pats the pocket on her coat where she kept the marble, “I’m his guardian, it’s my job to keep him safe.”

Smog drifts over the northern wind. The poison as Charcoal calls it, irritates her nose. However, an unusual sense of relief bubbles in her chest. They’re almost there. One more stop before life returns to normal. Speak to the king, she repeats. Get Sara to her aunt’s place, then it’s all over.

Then she and Eclipse can return to their old lives. Exploring uncharted countryside and studying in temples scattered over the landscape. She’ll put politics aside. Ignore the soldiers threatening her. And enjoy life again. All she had to do was speak to Allan.

As Lollardum rises over the landscape the factory smokestacks pump grey soot into the air. Miles of rooftops stretches as far as she can see. She spies the harbor, the wide basin attached to the bay which separates Lollardum and Alexanderia.

But gnawing dread replaces the elation in her chest. On those cobble stone narrow streets is a war she’s an unwilling participant in. There’re strangers who hate her without even knowing her name. Somewhere blending in among the mix matched buildings, is her kin. Living a silent existence all to ensure they welcome another day.

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Every Mage emits an aura, a magical signature, that helps identify their kin. However, in Lollardum their auras knit together, like a fishing net over the buildings and streets. Safety in numbers. With Sara in tow, she slips onto the main road, where her aura will meld with the rest of the travellers.

They stay close to the larger groups and wagons, hoping to avoid unwanted attention. But the sideways glances make her nervous. Its the way mothers hug their children a bit closer. How the lively conversations become whispers. The subtle nods from group leaders motioning for their followers to walk faster.

It's Sara’s whispered gasps that draws her attention to the true horrors of Lollardum. They aren’t even near the gate yet, but the message is plain as day. Lining the road are tall spikes piercing mouldering bodies. The stench, the buzzing of flies, and their drooping faces, make her stomach flop. One male body is beyond identification but the crows still make an enthusiastic meal of their organs.

The travellers’ chatter fades as they sobriety of the situation falls over them. The gate is ahead, the road narrows forcing them closer together like cattle. But a ruckus behind her interrupts the death march. Seven horsemen, with jeweled saddles adorned with silks and soft leather, race through the crowd.

She yanks Sara from their path seconds before one horse barrages past. Five of the riders are mercenaries, dressed in armour and carrying an array of weapons. The other two, in fashionable robes, hold their staffs in their unoccupied hand.

They force their horses past the throngs of people but halt when the guards block their path. She can’t hear their conversations but the mercenaries sit straight in the saddle and make a show of their long spears and sheathed daggers. On the other side, a family with a pack mule standby while soldiers rummage through their saddle bags. By the time she reaches the looming iron gate the Mages on horseback enter while the family scurries to pluck their processions from the muck.

I really hate this place…

Strangers squeeze together forcing her through narrow pockets of people. There’s no space to breathe or think as their ebb and flow carry her past stalls of herbs, vegetables, and cloth. The aroma mixes with sweat and melds with the smoke from the blacksmiths’ fires. Followed by the concussion of clanging hammers that ripple through various accents and noise. Dingy grey air lingers heavily above, weighing on her chest and suffocating her lungs.

“Chris! I’ll have your head for this!” Shouts a voice behind her. A lanky man with angular features glides past her, grinning like the chase is a game. He grazes her arm casting a scent of old perfume in his wake, before vanishing into the mass of faces. “Hey, lady, out of the way!”

A soldier, less graceful than the first man, slams into her with the weight of a horse. Tumbling in a knot of cloak, they crash onto the slippery cobblestones. A throbbing pain shoots across her shoulders, his belt digs into her stomach, and her head aches. They struggle, tightening the cloak twisting around them.

She yanks the garment from between their legs, and they roll apart. Smiling from the muck is his sword; silver and deadly. Her body retorts at the memory of a blade at her neck. The Bellaverian soldiers shouting and shoving her replay in her mind. Their anger and force imprint themselves in her psyche. She drags herself to her feet, her limbs stiff, and her heart in her throat.

His puzzle expression takes her off guard, he’s staring a bit too hard at her staff. It lays between them and she hates to admit it, the thought of reaching for it frightens her. Her body is sluggish, Eclipse is at a distance with Sara at his side. Every action she might take might change the outcome. The soldier glances from the opal to her, assessing her as she studies his sharp brown eyes for intent. Its then she spies the ruby emblem on his tunic; Alexanderian. Does he know?

He grabs her by the wrist, whirling her until he secures both her hands behind her back. Her breathing is fast and hard, she searches for Eclipse, but spies the convening bystanders who encircle them. So much for blending in.

“Tell me where he’s going.”

“Where who is going?”

“Don’t play games with me.” The crowds perverted grin crawls over her skin. As more gather, tightening the circle around them, its clear who her real threat is; and it might not be him. His sword is still on the ground, along with her staff. But if the crowd turns, she needs a way out.

“Get off!” she shouts, slipping her sweaty wrists from his grasp. As her nails slide across the back of his neck, his grip breaks, forcing him backwards. “You have me confused with someone else.”

“Give me what he gave you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Move on, before you get hurt.”

“Are you threatening a member of the royal guard?”

“If you lay another hand on me, it won’t matter what you’re a member of.”

“Where are you from son?” Eclipse saunters between them, taking on role of mediator. She’s grateful for the distraction. It’s long enough for Sara to grab her staff and move behind her.

“I am Captain Dawson, of the Alexanderian Knights.” He stands straight as if addressing a superior and matches the panther’s demeanour. “I’m on official business, and your friend is an accomplice. She needs to come with me for questioning.”

“I’ll be damned before I go anywhere with you.”

“Pardon us Captain,” he interjects, “we are on official business from Bellavere. She is not involved with this unfortunate, but most certainly, serious situation of yours.”

“What sort of business would you two and a little girl have with the king?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She almost preferred the knight when he didn’t speak.

“We are to escort Lady Rose to Queen Cecilia’s Court to become a new Lady in Waiting.” Sara curtseys trying to play her role, however, even to an outsider the child’s acting needs work.

“They sent the likes of you instead of properly trained guards?”

“How dare—”

“Queen Margaret dispatched all available soldiers to the surrounding villages to quell rumors' of invading mercenaries. Moira, comes highly trusted by the queen.”

“Queen Margret hates everyone,”

He isn’t as dumb as I thought.

“She comes highly recommended.”

“You’re risking a lot by coming here Mage.”

“I’m dedicated to my job.”

“Or the price was right.”

“Perhaps,”

“Whether I believe you or not, I still need to search you,”

“Like hell you are!”

“Moira,” he pauses, “not this time.”

“Fine, but you’ll live to regret it.”

She faces away, his breath hot on her neck, as his hands hover over her body. Each firm touch of his callous hands, travels over her skin making her stomach churn. She's a spectacle, the whispering bystanders exacerbate her public humiliations. Nothing stops the rose blush creeping her over her face as he approaches her hips.

But he doesn’t linger, not there or any part of her; a level of professionalism she didn’t expect. What's his end goal? He must have figured out she isn’t part of his investigation but why continue the charade? Were they both in over their heads? Or he's wasting her time, which at this point is unforgiveable considering everything the Gods dragged her through the last few weeks. He reaches her ankles and steps back.

“Hope you’re happy,” she mutters.

But the crowd isn’t finished, they sneer; goad Zack to strike. ‘Arrest her!’ ‘Search her again she stole it’, ‘Don’t take attitude from her!’ He ignores them as he plucks his sword from the ground. His inaction sets him apart from the Bellaverian soldiers she encountered before. In the face of the mob he didn’t react, however his calm measure tone was enough to portray the danger surrounding them.

“I suggest you leave as soon as you conclude your business. If I see you again, I can’t promise the same outcome.”

He pushes past the jeering crowd clenching his fists and avoiding the spit. Some call after him, coaxing him to ‘rough her up’ and ‘show her who’s boss’. Some curse at her as they disperse from the circle, but she’s grateful when Eclipse joins her side.

“Although I am not in favour of soldiers, at least refrain from murdering the Alexanderian ones.”

She huffs; still convinced the best place for the knight is a shallow grave.