Linua shuffled her feet uncertainly. Even after so much time spent in the human kingdom, she was still uncomfortable in large crowds. Being part of a moving current was one thing; standing still among them was another.

“Are you nervous?” Selerim asked beside her.

“Aren’t you?” His eyes were fixed on the crowd of people around them, as if attempting to ward them off with his gaze.

“Not really.” Those two words were spoken with the same easy confidence of his father.

Linua pulled Gwyn close from behind. “What about you?”

She shook her head, clearing her vision of the bone-white hair that clouded it. “No.” Her head tilted up ever so slightly. “They’re just people. Same as us.”

“I guess I’ve been spending too much time inside.” Much of Linua’s time was spent studying life in the human kingdom. There were simply too many differences, and as their parent, learning how to adapt to those differences fell on her.

… Even if, so far, her children seemed to be doing a better job of it.

“Do we have enough money for a home?” Selerim asked, adjusting his cloak. It was an old, ragged one, sewn crudely by his own hands from the pelt of a stormwolf. The bluish-white fur had since taken on a permanent grey tinge, and was nearly bald in some places, but he insisted on keeping it.

She knew why, of course: it was something from Cress; one of the few tentative connections he had left.

“We do,” Linua answered with a nod. “More than enough.” She’d initially doubted the wealth Varus spoke of, but in truth, they had enough to last for a long time– perhaps the rest of their lives. It surprised her, at first, but it also made sense. There was no need for luxuries or wealth in Umbra: they traded only for necessities.

“Hm.”

“Does it bother you?”

Her son shook his head. “No. We only ever asked for what we needed.”

She nodded. “How is Nyx?”

Selerim adjusted his cloak again. He was dressed lightly despite the cold, wearing a plain shirt and pair trousers underneath it. “Fine… for now. The sooner we’re done here, the better.” His eyes shifted up to the artifact atop the dais. It was housed in a large Guild building, cut from white stone and decorated with gold lining– just as she’d read. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Yes. This won’t be the first time one of our kind uses them. It’s uncommon, but it happens. There shouldn’t be any problems.” Linua had already set aside the coins needed for their passage.

“And you know the way afterwards?”

“Varus gave me a map. He offered to provide us with a guide, but I thought this was better done as a family. No outsiders.”

He nodded in agreement, as did Gwyn.

They stood in line for the city’s Gate– not the physical one they’d arrived through, but the magical one connecting this city to the capital. The concept had been rather hard to grasp– and even harder to believe– but then, such were the wonders of magic.

“Why do they send supplies to other places if they have these?” Selerim asked quietly. “It seems unnecessary.”

Linua shook her head. “It takes time for them to build the Anchors. And they take a lot of resources. As it is, most of the new ones are for Guild use only.”

“Guild?”

“An organization formed by royal decree. They manage most of the nation’s magical resources– including mages, military or otherwise.”

Gwyn interjected. “Does that mean they’ll be in charge of me?”

“Most likely.” Linua ruffled her hair. “It’s not too late to back out if you’re worried, you know.”

Her daughter shook her head. “No. I want to.” She extricated herself from Linua’s grasp. “I’m just curious.”

“The Guild was founded to cut down on the number of magic-related crimes. Especially murder.”

Selerim’s head jerked up at that. “There was a lot of that?”

“Yes. But there’s hardly any now. The Guild has the authority to chase down all who misuse magic. Since their founding, that number has dropped. It’s not quite zero, but… it’s close.”

“I’m going to do it anyways,” Gwyn said, as if challenging her brother to contradict her. “Otherwise I’m going to die of boredom.

Linua laughed at that.

“What?” her daughter asked, somewhat indignantly.

“Nothing,” she said. “You two are just alike in the strangest ways.”

Gwyn rolled her eyes. “You always say that.”

“Because it’s true.” Linua pulled both of her children into a hug. Neither resisted her grasp. This was the first real moment they’d shared since Selerim returned. Not for a lack of desire; they’d simply been busy. The siblings with their training, and she with her studies. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Selerim was the first to pull away. He adjusted the makeshift strap around his shoulder from which his staff hung. He’d insisted on bringing, along with the two daggers hidden under his cloak. The wooden bracelet he’d returned was wrapped snugly around his right wrist.

Gwyn also had hers, though hers was at an angle, rather than perfectly horizontal like Selerim’s.

Linua was worried they would stand out, but that fear proved to be unfounded: there were more people here with weapons than not. Swords were, noticeably, the most common, but there were a variety of other blades as well. And while come were clearly decorative in nature, most were clearly worn by regular use.

As far as she could tell, Selerim and Gwyn carried the only two staffs, but that seemed not to attract any attention.

“Mom–” Selerim started, only to stop short as the line shifted forward.

“What’s on your mind?” She asked as they came to rest just before the artifact. Formed from seemingly loose stones, it was oddly shaped; like a jagged, irregular circle. A number of glyphs were carved into the individual stones, and each glowed with a bright blue light. There was only one group ahead of them now.

He shook his head as they disappeared in a flash of blue light. “Later.”

Linua’s uncertainty rose as the guard beckoned them forward.

His dark brown eyes widened at the sight of them. “What’s this about?” He asked hesitantly. “There’s nothing wrong with you using the Gate, or with you going to another city. It’s just… uncommon. My superiors will want to know why.”

She reached into her pocket, thankful for the way he’d opened the conversation. ‘Here.” She handed him an unsealed letter. “We’re going on behalf of a doctor here in the city.”

The guard’s shoulders relaxed as he unfolded the piece of paper. His eyes flitted from one side to the other until reaching the bottom. “Thank you.” He returned the note with a nod. “Have you ever used a Gate before?”

Linua shook her head.

“Is what I see all you have?”

“Yes.”

“Just place your hand on one of the stones. Make sure yours is the only one there, though.”

She stepped forward to follow his instructions, as did Selerim and Gwyn. So close to the Gate, her steps felt unnaturally short; as if the magical construct were wrapping the surrounding space around itself.

The guard shouted a command to someone outside of her vision–

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

– and then the countless glyphs placed on the Gate flared with the color of magic.

Linua had read many accounts of the Gate’s turbulent nature, but no amount of reading could have prepared her to experience it firsthand.

She felt its magic seep into her. That alone was an entirely new sensation; something almost completely foreign to her people. But what came after that was truly unsettling.

The magic tore her apart. It didn’t pull on her, but tore her into countless pieces. There was no blood, no pain, but that mattered little. The world passed her by, each pace experienced a thousand times– and then came to a sudden halt.

Linua stumbled forward, caught off guard. One of Selerim’s hands caught her; the other was under Gwyn’s shoulder.

“What happened?” She mumbled. The words came out broken and garbled.

“First time using the Gate?” Another guard asked. This one was a woman, though she was dressed in the same chainmail as the one before her. Linua nodded mutely.

“This is normal. It takes some getting used to.” She peered at Selerim. “Although your son seems to be fine.” She pointed to the far side of the building, where a number of other people were seated, clearly nauseated themselves. “Take a moment if you need to. There’s no shame in it.”

The three of them– or really, just Selerim, considering he was practically carrying both of them– made their way in that direction.

Gwyn struggled to stand on her own as they passed one of the building’s pillars. “Here is fine,” she muttered, reaching out to support herself with one hand. “I just… need to be still for a moment.”

Linua followed suit as Selerim stood there, concern clear on his face. The nausea cleared quickly; two minutes at the absolute most. “I’m fine.” She turned her attention to Gwyn. “What about you?”

Her daughter pushed herself away from the pillar and opened her eyes. “Better now.” She visibly shivered. “That was… awful.”

Linua nodded in agreement. “Although Sel seems completely unbothered.”

Selerim shrugged. “I’ve experienced worse.”

She grimaced at that. “I suppose you have.” She pulled another piece of paper from her pocket; this one was a detailed map, drawn entirely by hand. “Shall we go?”

image [https://i.imgur.com/T7fdvjj.png]

“What do you think?”

Selerim shrugged, unsure how to answer his mother’s question. “It doesn’t really matter what I think.”

Gwyn kicked his shin lightly at that. “Of course it does. We’re looking for a home. Not just for me and mom, but for all three of us. Especially if you’re going to quit being a mercenary.”

“What?” His mom turned around at that. “Why?”

“... My life is here,” he answered. “With both of you. I don’t want to spend too much time away.”

“Then why do it in the first place?” His sister asked.

Selerim closed his eyes, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “It’s like I told you… I just needed time to think. It’s hard for me to do that here.”

“You shouldn’t decide so quickly,” Linua said quietly. “I know how much it means to you.”

He shook his head. He knew, after all, how difficult it must have been for her to say that. “You and Gwyn mean more.”

“Even so. What about the people you met?”

His chest tightened. “I like them. I care for them… but they’re different from me. They have different lives. Different worries. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Some part of those words were spurred on by jealousy, in some odd way; envy over the bond they shared and that he now lacked.

Gwyn leaned forward, and Selerim hurriedly continued before she could interject. “I’m not doing it because I think I should want to, or… or because of what I promised dad.” He took a deep breath. “I’m doing this because I want to. I.. I mean it.”

“Hmm.” She stepped back, apparently satisfied with that. “If it’s what you really want.”

He nodded. “It is.”

“And what about this?” Linua asked, sweeping her arms around the room. “What do you think?”

“It’s… different.” Selerim knew that answer would frustrate his mother and sister alike, but that was truly the extent of his opinion. The house they stood in was markedly different from the one they’d shared in Cress, built from both stone and wood– but the differences went deeper than that, in a way he wasn’t quite sure how to explain.

His mother and father had built their home in Cress, and that was evident across every bit of it. The wooden slats were irregular and worn, the glass windows not quite level with one another. It was one of the many, many things he loved about it.

Before it burned.

By comparison, the one they stood in now was perfect. Too perfect. The floors were cut from red-tinged oak, and the walls from blue-grey stone; all of it precisely placed. There wasn’t a flaw to be found, no matter how hard he looked.

Gwyn leaned forward again to look up at him. “That really is the extent of your opinion, isn’t it?”

Selerim nodded.

“We should at least find someplace you like though.” She paused. “You don’t like that Varus would know where we live, do you?”

He blinked in surprise. Though true, it was not something that had factored into his assessment. I’m too easy to read. “Sorry,” Selerim said aloud, somewhat guiltily.

Gwyn shook her head. “It’s fine. We need somewhere for all of us. Even if I don’t agree with your reason, I won’t rue you for having it.” She stepped away. “Sorry, mom.”

Their mother shook her head. “It’s fine. I agree with Gwyn,” she said. “It needs to be someplace for all of us. I’ll look more into how to do things. You have your commission, so I’ll try to learn quickly.”

“It’ll be a while, still,” Selerim said. “Suli made it sound like preparing will take a long time.” He hesitated before continuing. “And about the commission…”

Her brows furrowed in concern. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I just… I don’t know if I should go.” He shook his head with a scowl. “No, that’s not right. Hold on.” Sighing, he closed his eyes and separated his thoughts from one another.

“I would– it will be nice to see Viria again,” he said slowly. “But that’s not why I’m going. I’m going because I need answers.”

“And you think Veile can give them to you.”

Selerim nodded. “I’m certain of it.”

“And why is that bothering you?”

He hung his head. “Because it shouldn’t matter. If all I want to do is live out my life with you, it doesn’t matter.” He clenched his hands into fists. “It shouldn’t matter. I should be grateful to be alive. Grateful that you’re alive. I should just be able to move on and be happy.” His vision blurred as tears formed. “But I can’t. I can’t just forget about them, even though they’re dead and you’re alive.”

They fell, darkening the wood floor. “I want to know why. I need to know why, no matter who I have to fight– or, or kill. I need to know why.” Selerim took a deep, trembling breath. “That’s why I’m going. Because I can’t let go of the past and be content with what I have. Because I need answers. I came back because I knew you needed me. To know that I was alive. But now you do. And I need answers.”

“There’s nothing wrong–”

He cut his mother off. “There is. Because I’ll be putting you in danger.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do.” Selerim grimaced. “I told you everything, but you weren’t there. You don’t know how it felt. If I go after answers, you’ll be in danger… but I want to go after them anyways. I talked to Gwyn already. Sort of. And she said that she wants to know what happened. Why it happened. And– and that you do too.”

He took another shaky breath. “I believe her– of course I do. But I need to hear it from you too. And if you don’t, then I’ll abandon it. I can’t put you in danger for something that you don’t want.”

Selerim wiped the tears from his face, suddenly embarrassed. He’d said far too much, and far more than he intended.

Finally–

“Don’t feel like that.”

– His mother broke the silence. “And,” she sighed, “Gwyn is right. I may lack the earnest love that you had for our life in Cress, but it was my home all the same. I loved the people there… They were my friends and family. “I want to know what happened– and why it happened, too.”

“Alright,” he whispered, not daring to look up.

Gwyn nudged him with her shoulder..

“I told you.”

“I know you did,” Selerim said, smiling. “But I needed to hear her say it. And to get it off my chest,” he admitted.

“And now you’ve accomplished both those things.” She sighed. “Neither of us would ask you to forget the past so easily.”

“This is different.”

“Is it?”

“You could die.”

Gwyn nodded. “I know. But I could die tomorrow, anyways. I could have died any day back in Cress.” She shrugged. “This is the world we live in. Things are never easy. I’m not scared of dying.” Her voice softened. “I know it’s different for you. You watched Cress burn. Buried your friends. But we lost our home too. And I know you’ll protect us.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then I’ll die knowing that you tried your best.”

“Please don’t talk like that,” their mother interrupted with a sigh. “This means a lot to you. Even if not for my personal stake, I wouldn’t want to deny you something so important. But I do want to know.” She paused. “And Eros hasn’t returned yet.”

Selerim frowned. “Are you worried?”

Linua shook her head. “No, but I’m starting to be. I don’t think anything could catch Eros, but you never know.”

“But if it’s not Eros…”

“It means there’s something else wrong,” she said grimly. “That’s another reason I think we need answers.”