Adonal Adaya's speech lasted for two hours. Two hours of spittle writhing out of his mouth, of his words washing over the crowd like red-hot waves, of an energy, tense and electric, holding in the air and shimmering like one of Becenti's mirages. Through it all, he kept his composure, never smiling, never moving more than his arms, as though he were a poet presenting his opus. His eyes burned with a dark fire as the crowd reacted, snarling and jeering at his words.

Words meant to ignite.

Words meant to call to action.

Rosemary simply stood there, watching the proceedings, feeling walled in on all sides by the elves around her. Watched as Adonal Adaya finished his speech, the roaring applause so loud that she had to cover her ears, wincing. The various Elven guilds stayed around after the main speech, the music starting up once again, lurid figures dancing in the firelight, abstract shadows that weaved around each other to the tune of the music, which became fast-paced and heart-pounding and all-too-much.

She stepped away, inching her way out of the encampment, smiling a shy smile at the merry-goers around her, who were laughing and guffawing with one another, stripping off clothing, discarding armor and leaving weapons at their tents. Hatred seemed to melt away with the onset of drunken revelry.

But no, she realized, it was still there. Simmering beneath the surface, beneath the proud looks she saw some elves wearing as they looked at the Gil-Galad, where Adonal Adaya had been orating. Something had been stirred within their hearts, something that, now unlodged, gave no sign of becoming stuck again.

She wasn't sure how to feel about that. Something had shifted.

The wind was warm as she stepped out of the encampment. The music, while still chaotic and upbeat, drifted away as she wandered. She found herself moving in a single direction, her mind blank and an odd, unhealthy tiredness sitting on her shoulders.

She found herself back at the stump where she and Joseph had their argument. Guilt pierced through the fog in her mind as she looked down at it.

He had been right.

Hadn't he.

Joseph Zheng, the right guy, who warned her of the hatred without words that Sunala held. Parts of Rosemary still denied what she had just seen as real. A collective hallucination. Sunala wasn't like this, was she?

No, she couldn't be.

But Rosemary could feel nothing but wariness as she turned for a moment to look at the encampment.

Then, as she stared, her eyes caught something. There, in the grass. A small light. Glowing, a miniature sun.

A firefly.

She walked over to it, kneeling down to look at it. The firefly was on top of something, a wooden square that had landed in the grass.

It was the Dyriptium of Karn.

Rosemary blinked.

If the book was here, where was Joseph?

Worry burned away the fog. She blinked, as though seeing for the first time, at the Dyriptium of Karn. Gently brushed a finger against it, feeling the firefly tickle the back of her hand as it scurried to rest on warm skin.

“Hey, bud,” she said to it, “Quite the night, huh?”

She picked up the Dyriptium of Karn, looking around. No sign of Joseph. He shouldn't have collapsed, even with a busted up rib.

The firefly continued resting on her hand. She looked down at it, before glancing around, made sure no one could see her. Then, she brought her face close to the firefly.

“Hey,” she whispered, “What happened?”

And the firefly told her. Of the ape. Of the wolf. The strange, hooded creature that accompanied them. The Beasts of Dol, she surmised. They were known for taking things too personally, taking things too far. Joseph must have said one of them smelled, or something.

But it was enough for them to attack him.

“Did you see where they went?” she asked.

The firefly spoke to her in the language of insects, shared by their kind throughout the multiverse. Rosemary had learned it long ago, on her home plane. She had been drilled by her tutors the cadence, the chittering, the flushing of wings. To speak the language of insects, she was told, was the difference between life and death.

Of course, they were much bigger back home.

The firefly told her of where the animals had taken Joseph. How they had loaded him and one other onto a cart. She nodded.

“Can you guide me to them?” she asked.

The firefly responded that it could. Rosemary nodded.

Then her heart fell.

Her sceptre was back on the Gil-Galad. Feeling happy, elated at talking with Sunala, she had absently left it behind in her study. She would need to retrieve it.

Back to the camp.

Back to... whatever it was, that was there. The stuff that made her mind blank, that made her question herself.

Back to the fog.

Rosemary started back, her eyes firmly on the Gil-Galad.

***

The Beasts of Dol walked in silence. The forest watched them through the eyes of fireflies, through stolen glances from the leaves, through the warm evening wind. Warmth was not common to the Flyleaf Forest. It was an imported thing, generated by the machines of the Weatherfolk, another commodity for the two-legged beings of InterGuild.

In total, there were six of them. Gandu had roped them in, bullied them into submission, dragged them out to do this job. The dire wolf led his makeshift pack, his leg smarting a bit from an errant swipe from the leopard, Ekrazu. She herself was sporting a nasty ring of bite marks 'round her neck, courtesy of Gandu, and she padded away from the rest of the group with a wary eye. Riding the wagon was Ongorn, the orangutan, far too intelligent for his own good, an impish smile on his simian face. He bore no marks from Gandu, having chosen this little escapade for his own amusement.

Pulling the wagon was Midnight Express, a jet-black horse who seemed to ink into the night. He had no true mind of his own, his eyes devoid of any sort of intelligence, more automaton than beast. He merely followed the whims of those around him, guided by others' wills. Rilha, the octopus, was draped over Midnight Express's back like a blanket. Standing over the unconscious two-legs was Red of the Island Fair, her four arms tucked beneath her cloak like a beetle's wings, two of her three bird-like legs raised up to her stomach. She simply stared at the two-legs, wondering why they were here. At InterGuild. In the multiverse. She wondered at their existence.

Ongorn interrupted the silence, the ape reaching into his satchel and pulling out an orange. He bit into it, rind and all, chewing loudly and letting out a low, pleasured moan.

“I wonder,” he said, “Why you seem so intent on these two.”

Gandu did not reply. The dire wolf continued padding forward. By this point, they were deep in the forest, having left InterGuild behind. No fireflies here. No other lights.

Save for the one that Ongorn was now lighting, retrieving a lighter from his satchel, as well as a lantern. The lantern was far too large to fit in the satchel, yet it came out, all the same, the bag magically enchanted to be larger on the inside. It was of no concern for the others. Ongorn was far too civilized for many of them. He only hung around because they needed his knowledge, animals as they were, and he had killed all challengers.

Gandu bristled at the sudden onset of light, turning around to the cart.

“Silence the flame, what is your game?”

“I can't see,” Ongorn said, “And I wanted a light.”

“Snuff it out,” Gandu said, “There be danger about.”

“I prefer the light,” Ongorn said, “Don't you, Rilha? Red?”

The octopus did not reply, a tentacle slithering up to caress Midnight Express. Red of the Island Fair, however, nodded. At her approval, Gandu relaxed.

“Very well,” he said, “On this, I will not dwell.”

“Thaaaat's swell,” Ongorn drawled.

They continued on. Gandu perked up his head, noting that Ekrazu had left them. No, there she was, away from them, flitting through the square-shaped trees. Fire disturbed her, and she much preferred the night, for darkness to cloak her in a veil. But Gandu could smell her. If she tried for another challenge, he would know. He would tear out her throat, show the others that he meant to follow through.

Krosa's words had rankled him greatly.

“They're just a pair of two-legs, Gandu,” Ongorn said after a while, “Why go through all this trouble? Stealing a cart, bringing this motley crew together?”

“They knocked over Red of the Island Fair,” Gandu snarled, turning back to the ape, “And for that, we must clear the air.”

“By killing them,” Ongorn said.

“Into the darkness, into the wood,” Gandu said, “In this, I forge brotherhood.”

The wagon meandered on. Ongorn took out another orange, offering it to Red of the Island Fair. The sinder took it, proboscis unfurling, jabbing into the orange’s skin.

“And,” the orangutan said, “This has nothing to do with how Krosa brushed you off?”

At once, the air became still. The other beasts stopped as Gandu spun around, teeth bared.

“I beg your pardon, I beg your word,” Gandu said, “Care to repeat that? A second time, a third?”

“All I'm saying,” Ongorn said, “Is that you're doing quite a bit, aren't you?”

“I am doing what is needed, what had been seeded,” Gandu said, “They brought offense, I give answer hence.”

“Hmm,” Ongorn said, “Doing it like a two-legs, too, aren't you? Moving away from everything, making the only witnesses ourselves, and the night?”

The ape leaned forward, “Krosa would have torn them to pieces, right then and there.”

Gandu snarled, only just stopping at leaping at Ongorn and tearing him apart. He was aware that the others were staring at him now, waiting for him to reveal any weakness. Any shame. He backed down a bit at the sight of Red as she watched him with those great eyes of hers.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“We are beasts, but we live as men,” the dire wolf said, “We must follow their law, then.”

“Until it is time,” Ongorn said.

“Until our time,” Gandu said, “Let us go. To them, what we do is a crime.”

“Hmm,” Ongorn said. He would not give any more proddings. Gandu had given a satisfactory answer.

Yet all of the dire wolf’s posturings, all the snarls and the raised hackles, stemmed from his own interaction with Krosa. And Ongorn knew this, because he had been there. So what if Red had been bumped? She was tough. She could afford a few scrapes. Nothing short of plasma fire, and heavy shots at that, could bring her down.

But Gandu's appeal to Krosa had shamed him. Had revealed an opportunity for the others. The reaction against these two-legs was going farther than a Beast of Dol usually went.

Ongorn shrugged, realizing he did not care.

Killing was killing, and that was that.

****

The revelers, thankfully, ignored Rosemary as she dodged past, stepping over drunken, unconscious forms and bobbing away from the rings of dancers carouseling around the campfires. The Gil-Galad's ramp was up. So she, after a split-second, began scrabbling up the ship’s side, jamming her fingers into the larger slits between the wood planks, using the windows as footholds, climbing to the top railing and leaping over it.

The deck of the Gil-Galad was quiet. No one was onboard – the ship's crew were down in the encampments, getting drunk and high and crowing to the sky. Rosemary hunkered down as she slunk across the ship, the trapdoor that led below decks creaking far too loudly for her liking, an old crone cawing in her sleep.

She had left her sceptre in Sunala's study. She could kick herself, cursing how careless she had been. She tried her best to carry it with her no matter where she went. It, and her red cloak, were the only things she still had from her home plane. She couldn't afford to part with it.

Especially since Joseph, the idiot, was in trouble.

She opened the door to the study.

Adonal Adaya was inside, sitting at Sunala's desk, the sceptre in hand.

Rosemary's heart fell.

“H-Hi,” she said.

The gray-cloaked elf looked up at her. His eyes, once more, narrowed as he seemed to scrutinize her.

“Greetings, friend,” he said. She noted his voice seemed ragged and hollowed-out, probably from all of his shouting during the speech, “May I help you with something?”

“M-My sceptre,” she said, “It's, ah, I need it back, please.”

“Your sceptre?” Adonal Adaya said, “Interesting.”

He rose to his feet, and Rosemary shuddered at just how tall he was. Taller than Sunala. Broon's height, with none of the mass. A pole on legs. She could practically see his thin, bony frame squeaking beneath his robes as he walked around the desk and faced Rosemary directly.

“This is your sceptre, then?” Adonal Adaya repeated, “This one, from Silvere?”

Shit. Rosemary did her best to swallow down the sudden panic bubbling in her throat.

“Y-Yes,” she said, “It was a gift. I'm studying it, you see.”

“Ah, good,” Adonal Adaya said, “And what have you found out about this... sceptre?”

“It's, um,” Rosemary's mind raced. How much should she give him?

“It's a sceptre used by the... nobility of Silvere,” she said, “A symbol of their office. Used to control and redirect light, which it absorbs from the sun.”

“And it takes several years to learn how to use one effectively,” Adonal Adaya said, “I went to Silvere, once, to see if they were an offshoot of our race. I had hoped to bring them into the fold of our Verdant Reclamation. But they are not elves, not truly. As similar to us as an ape is to a man.”

He stared down at her for a few tense, quiet moments.

"Like animals, all told,” he finished.

Adaya presented the sceptre to Rosemary.

“This is more like a mace, truth be told. It has none of the beauty of a true sceptre. I would be careful in your studies with it. It is shoddy work, compared to true Elven workmanship.”

“I understand,” Rosemary said, and once more she felt the fog of the truth cloud over her mind. She worked on autopilot as she took the sceptre, resisting the urge to hug it to her chest.

She felt a hand rest on her shoulder. Sunala's.

“Good evening, Adonal Adaya,” Sunala said, “I trust you're well.”

“I need a warm cup of tea,” Adonal Adaya said, “Especially after all of that shouting. I haven't done something like that since the rally on Kordmund.”

“Well, be prepared to do more of it yet,” Sunala said, “You'll be heading to Tlantoia yet, correct?”

“Indeed,” Adonal Adaya said, “Which is why I request you send as much tea as you are able to when I depart.”

“Of course,” Sunala said.

“I prefer licorice tea,” the gray-cloaked elf said, “To coat the throat. Helps it heal.”

“Like a salve,” Sunala said, “Very well. Have a good night, Adonal Adaya.”

“And you, Lady Sunala,” Adonala Adaya gave her and Rosemary a nod, and then departed out of the study. Sunala closed the door behind him, turning to Rosemary.

“He was in the study again,” the noblewoman said, “Not surprising, he comes and goes as he will...”

She stopped, turning to Rosemary. Noting that she had gone quiet.

“Is everything alright, Rosemary?” she asked.

“This is... your Verdant Reclamation,” Rosemary said.

Sunala sighed.

“It is,” she said.

“Your dream.”

“Part of it,” Sunala said, “Part of it.”

She moved past Rosemary, walking over to her desk and sitting down. She covered the stump of her left hand with her right.

“My family is old. Ancient. For thousands of years, we have been mainstays in the Elven political sphere, negotiating between the various Houses and jockeying for power. To speak of House Sunala is to speak of an... Elven status quo. My family was once spread across the multiverse, using our own talents for the betterment of a whole. Much like your guild.”

She gave a small smile at that.

“And House Sunala is... with the Verdant Reclamation?” Rosemary asked.

“Indeed,” Sunala said, “We may be mainstays, we may have our influences, but in comparison to... other powers, in the multiverse, House Sunala is disturbingly frail. We are not as we once were. Our name does not carry the respect it deserves. By aligning with the Verdant Reclamation, I hope to propel my family into a position of power, one that once more is felt across the myriad realities.”

Rosemary wasn't sure how to respond to that, not at first. She simply stood there, looking out the window towards the reverie below.

“I didn't hear...” she started, “I didn't understand much of what Adonal Adaya was saying. But it was so... intense. Hateful.”

“There are those in the Verdant Reclamation who are more passionate about the cause than others,” Sunala said, “But my dream, and his, can co-exist.”

“I see,” Rosemary said, “Even if... If I'm not an elf?”

The question lingered. Sunala seemed unsure of how to answer.

Then, she rose from her seat and walked over to Rosemary, resting a hand against her cheek.

“I am for my House, and my family,” Sunala said, “You are my family, Rosemary. No doubt about it.”

“But I'm not-”

“As I said, Rosemary,” Sunala said, “Adonal Adaya is a passionate man. But I am not so crass as he, as to throw someone like you out. I care for my House above all else, and Verdant Reclamation is a tool. Nothing more.”

“Okay,” Rosemary said, “I, um, have to go.”

The noblewoman's eyebrow quirked.

“Where?” she said.

“Joseph,” Rosemary said, “I think he's in trouble.”

“Ah, Mr. Zheng,” Sunala nodded, “Go, then, Rosemary. Be safe.”

“Thank you,” Rosemary said.

She turned away, running out the door. Her mind raced.

Sunala had said her piece. As had Adonal Adaya, with his speech burning in her mind. She still wasn't sure how to react. How to respond.

She pushed the conversation with Sunala out of her mind. Sceptre in hand, she leaped off of the Gil-Galad, landing lightly on her feet, before rushing off. Fireflies glittered in the night, guiding her towards Joseph.

There was work to be done.

***

Joseph opened his eyes slowly, pain blossoming from his head, dull and throbbing.

The first thing he noted was that he was tied up, a thick rope binding his arms and hands behind his back. He felt something heavy around his neck, and as he looked down his chin brushed against cold iron. A chain.

He let out a low groan, gritting his teeth and opening an eye. His vision was blurry for a second, before it sharpened and became used to the half-light. He was in a cart of some sort, the orangutan its driver. Beside Joseph was Kathen, who was silent and still. Standing above them was...

A creature. A strange one, with three bird-like legs and four arms tucked behind her back, beneath her red cloak. Three eyes stared down at him from a gray, box-shaped head. The creature had a proboscis, which was furling and unfurling as it stared down at Joseph.

Well, Joseph was awake now. He could feel his soul rouse from its slumber, begin its circuit through his system.

“I wouldn't do that.”

Joseph stopped. It came from Kathen, the lion-haired man's voice a bare whisper, hardly able to be heard over the sounds of the cart and the occasional growling conversations of the orangutan and an animal Joseph couldn't see.

“That chain, around your neck,” Kathen said, “Has a needle in it. The sinder there, see her?”

The creature standing over Joseph gave no indication that she could hear Kathen.

“Four arms. Three legs. Sinder. She's holding a small device in one of her hands. You move, you do something she doesn't like, that needle goes into your neck. Poisoned.”

Joseph simmered, glaring at the sinder as her proboscis uncurled and prodded the air for a second, as though she were smelling something. It reminded him of Robber Fly.

“Keep quiet,” Kathen said, “Merry's sending out a distress beacon for me. We can get out of this. Just keep your head down, alright?”

***

There was a moment of silence as Merry did her work, the back of Kathen's mind buzzing with activity. Finally, he heard her breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alright, it's been sent out,” she said, “Looks like Joseph Zheng's being smart about it, too.”

Kathen gave a subtle jerk of the head in acknowledgment. The Beasts of Dol didn't seem to realize he and Joseph Zheng were awake. The sinder did, maybe, but sinders were odd creatures, not willing to share their observations. They merely watched. Waited.

And ate, when the dead began to pile up. Kathen suppressed a shudder.

***

Rosemary ran through the forest, the fireflies glittering and guiding her path. More had joined her, though she wasn't sure why they were so intent on helping her. But they were, all the same, as she weaved deeper and deeper into the wood. She moved more on instinct than by sight as the only sources of light became the little lightning bugs, her hands reaching out to brush against tree trunks and her entire body buzzing with anticipation. Her feet moved of their own accord as she stepped over brambles and leaped over roots.

It was when she went even deeper that Rosemary realized that someone was following her. Another figure, just a bit behind her, keeping pace with her as she ran through the wood. Clutching her sceptre in hand, Rosemary took a deep breath. She stopped in a clearing of the forest, the fireflies glittering around her, as she pointed her sceptre at where she thought the stranger would be hiding.

“Alright,” she said, “C-Come out!”

There was a moment of tense silence, before a figure drew out of the shadows. A gray-skinned woman in combat armor, with a mechanical arm replacing her right, her left studded in tattoos. She was carrying a heavy combat rifle as she glared down at Rosemary.

“Elf,” she said, “What is your guild?”

“You first, stalker,” Rosemary said.

The woman rolled her eyes.

“Pagan Chorus, elf,” she said, “Now speak: What is your guild?”

“Amber Foundation,” Rosemary replied, “What do you want?”

“One of my guildmates released a distress call, deeper in the wood. I fear he has been captured.”

“...Is his name Kathen?”

The Pagan Chorus's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“One of my guildmates was fighting him over a book,” Rosemary said, “Just a little spat, nothing major. But I found the book in the grass, and one of the fireflies told me my guildmate had been ambushed.”

She raised up the Dyriptium of Karn.

“Maybe your guildmate was ambushed, too.”

The woman raised an eyebrow.

“...A firefly told you.”

“I can talk to them, you see,” Rosemary said, “They speak to me, in the language of insects.”

“What evidence do you have?” the woman said, “You spoke to an insect in a language I do not understand. Who is to say that your guild did not ambush mine, and you are leading me further into a trap?”

“I...” Rosemary blinked, “You just have to trust me, alright?”

The gray-skinned woman glared at her.

“Trust is a heavy word, Amber Foundation,” she said, “It carries much weight.”

“I know it does,” Rosemary said, “I... I don't have any evidence for you. Not really. But I want to save my guildmate, and I bet you do, too. You heavily outgun me, here. If we got in a fight, I'm pretty sure you'd win, right?”

“Indeed,” the woman said, “You have a mace-”

“Sceptre.”

“A sceptre, and mere fireflies. I am armed with the foremost of the High Federation. I am fully prepared to burn down this forest to save my guildmate.”

Rosemary gave the woman a soft smile.

“You care for him that much, don't you?”

“My guildmaster cares for him greatly,” the woman said, “And I care for my guildmaster.”

She gave herself a second to think.

“Very well,” she said, “You are Amber Foundation. That means you are under Vyde Wakeling, who is... trustworthy enough. I will go with you. Any funny business, however...”

“I know,” Rosemary replied, “Alright. Let's go. I'm Rosemary, by the way.”

“I am Almogra of the Gray-Dusk Skies.”

“Nice to meet you. Let's go save our idiots.”