She clung to a burning coal and claimed it to be cold. She told the skies that the rains were dry and that the storms were but gentle autumn winds. She did this, not because of some grand will or abundance of pride, but because her Goden had told her otherwise.

Sujin, the enchanter, the friend, the burning coal and the betrayer. He had not been vanquished. Though his dreams yet consumed them both, he would awaken. Despite all advice and insistence, his traitor's blood still coursed through his tainted veins.

“Ashtik,” he gasped as the spear drew away from him. “What is this?”

“Just a dream,” she whispered back. “Don’t worry, just think happy thoughts.”

She could feel the silent thread pulling. It bound her to him; it kept her near his mind. A thought of a girl passed over the thread and then the girl became material. Amadel, the maid of Macau. Black hair and golden skin; dark eyes with a gentle smile. She crossed the crumbling horizon to kneel at his side.

“Happy thoughts,” he whispered as she dragged him into a deep and suffocating hug.

Ash stood a couple of paces back. The ocean that had drowned her was now a silver puddle beneath her feet. She dragged a toe along the surface and caused a ripple that reached out beyond what her vision would allow her to trace.

Then the ripple came back with a thousand times the power. A single mountain-high wave rushed towards her. It didn’t seem to bother Sujin as he sat in the arms of his oldest friend, but Ash was not so collected. She would have screamed as it drew near, had she not fallen beneath the silver puddle before the wave could reach her.

“Don’t panic,” an old voice urged from within a familiar nothingness. She knew where she had landed, and she knew what would come next. The boundless nothingness around her had grown all too familiar. She knew this void like the back of her steel-sheathed hand.

“I deserve answers,” she immediately demanded, taking no time to adapt to her surroundings.

“Yes, you do.” The old voice grew louder as his borrowed feet clashed against the imagined floor. She turned to face him with an angered twirl, though she hadn’t realised how close behind he was.

Tall and towering, dark and muscled. Tattooed chains wrapped around his arms while a single green vine worked its way down his throat. A carefully maintained beard masked the scars he had gathered over a lifetime of hunting. This was how he should have been. How he had been, once upon a time.

“Dad,” Ash whimpered. She knew, deep inside, that it wasn’t truly him but that didn’t matter. It was as though she hadn’t seen him in decades, though it had only been a matter of weeks.

“I am not,” he kindly said.

“I know. You wear his face though. The face I remember,” she sniffed. “Does that make you a demon?”

“A demon?” he repeated in surprise.

“Demons talk with the dead man’s tongue. He is dead, isn’t he?” she asked with a tear on the question.

“I... It seems likely. I’m sorry,” the man admitted. “But I don’t think that I am a demon.”

“Then what? You claim you aren’t the Goden. Are you the other voice? The one that doesn’t talk to me, but about me?”

“Truth be told, Snowy, I think it's quite simple,” he sighed.

“It is?”

“Aye. I’ve been with you for some weeks now, but I was never meant to be. It has been hard adapting to you, but I’ve tried. Now we’re here. Now you’re getting stronger.”

“You’re not the god,” she slowly realised. “You’re the... gauntlet?”

“I mean, I think I’m the mark. I suppose that is the same thing. It’s probably high time we had a chat, hey kiddo?” He smiled broadly, though it wasn’t Tilak’s smile. It was an imitation. An idea gathered from watching memories of the man. His steel eyes peered into hers but she remembered how faded they had grown in reality. This imitation's eyes were as vibrant and youthful as Evara’s, but Tilak didn’t look like that anymore. His steel had faded to grey.

“Stop talking like him. It’s weird,” she quietly snipped.

“I don’t think I can. I need an image, a person, to imitate. Otherwise, you’d be talking to an inky little sparrow, right?”

“You think this; you don’t think that. Do you actually know anything?”

“I know how you feel,” he smiled. “I know you are scared and I know you doubt yourself.”

“Am I not right to?” Ash asked.

“We are always right to doubt ourselves. The only alternative is arrogance.”

“I don’t need petty wisdom. I need to understand my place here. I need to know that I haven’t destroyed the world.” She tried to step away from her false father but there was no ground beneath her feet upon which to walk. It did not matter that she somehow stood upon an empty void; this void would not allow her any distance from the old man.

“Does the world feel destroyed?” he smugly asked.

“Not yet... but it hasn’t begun yet. When the war starts, will the world end?”

“It hasn’t begun?” he scoffed. “Are you so sure about that?”

“I don’t see any great enemy I have to defeat.”

“Maybe you never will. Maybe this whole thing is just a great big misunderstanding. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“What are you talking about?” she pled.

“You say this hasn’t begun, yet here you are, forging alliances and meeting kings.”

“In preparation,” Ash insisted.

“Preparations... Action, it's all the same thing,” he mildly said. “It all services the end goal.”

“And that is?” Ash pressed.

“Power,” he hissed. “The power to defeat a god. The power to change the world, or make it anew.”

“That sounds...” Ash hesitated for a heartbeat before finally settling on, “Ominous.”

“You’ve suffered many omens though. Most of them you’ve deigned to ignore,” he said with a sigh. His shoulders slumped for a brief moment before returning to their natural broad position.

“You mean Sujin? Why does the Goden want me to kill him so badly?”

“Because he is the betrayer. Simple,” he sharply answered.

“And I should just take you at your word? He has done nothing even remotely ill yet. Does he not deserve the benefit of the doubt?”

“Ash, I’m a part of you. Why would I lie? He will betray you and he will kill your friend. You need to deal with him.” He glared at Ash as he spoke. The steel bore holes through her. The softness that defined her father’s gaze – even at the worst of times – was clearly absent in this man. He was harsh and he was cold. The steel of his eyes was not the steel of her father’s, but the steel of her hand. It was armoured and armed. Sharp and dangerous.

“He is my only friend, who is there for him to kill? Amell? I’d pay to see him try,” Ash scoffed.

“Spiders and clowns; eternals and crowns. You’ll have more friends than any woman alive. He will put an end to many of them,” he swore.

“Then I’ll just have to take that gamble,” Ash sighed.

“Why? Why risk it? Why not just send him away if his death is so deeply undesired?”

“Because then I can prove him wrong. I can prove that I don’t need to be chosen to win this war.”

“You have no chance of winning! Not if you ignore us! Heed our words, Snowy. I beg you!”

“I’ll heed you gladly, just not on this. Tell me and I’ll listen, who am I fighting?” Ash dismissed.

“You’re as foolish as you are necessary. Very well, I will hope to gain your trust. Maybe one day you will understand, I just hope that day comes sooner rather than later.” He sighed deeply and nodded. “Do you feel that?” he asked. She did; the invisible thread. It pulled at her again, dragged her back from the void into Sujin’s dream.

“We haven’t much time,” Ash whispered. “Answer the question.”

“You face the sister of the Black Goden. You face the Firestarter. The spark that set a world alight. You face she who destroyed two planets, and she who killed gods without thought.”

“What? How can I face a being capable of destroying entire worlds? How can I defeat something that can kill a god?”

It was hopeless, and the pit in her belly told her so. She looked down at her steel-skinned arm and tried to imagine how it could possibly stand to match, or exceed, the raw power of a literal god. She had faced a lesser goden once already. Hevestiel, he of the forge. He had looked upon her with more eyes than existed in the world. Armies of stone warriors, a million strong, had stood upon his shoulders and seemed oh-so ready for war.

“Don't be afraid. She’s not some omnipotent goddess. She’s a wanting, seeking, dying thing. A woman and a person, not a spirit or some higher being. Her flesh can be sundered, her mind can be broken. Her heart is already shattered. All you are fated to do is help her die. Grant her that mercy, or she will grant it to us all.”

----------------------------------------

The thread tore her back. It felt as though she had been thrown through a brick wall, though she ripped only through empty space. She landed hard, not in the toe-high waters of Sujin’s dream, but in the wrapped cotton of his bed sheets. A sheen of sweat rolled over the stubborn layer of monstrous grime that she had failed to cleanse in the font.

She jolted up, though it felt as though she were falling. A rush of wind scattered around her. She wasn’t sure whether or not she had imagined it, until a cluster of books and pages fluttered around the room like the wings of white doves, scrambling away from some dire threat.

Once the pages had settled from their frantic flight, the room was silent. Not a noise but for the ragged breaths drawn by both present parties. The curtains did not flutter, though the window was cracked open. The floorboards and rafters did not creak, though Ash had grown so very accustomed to the sound that she mightn’t have noticed it anyway.

She turned towards the only true noise around her. The steady heartbeat – and unsteady breath – of the man beside her. The man she had gambled all too much on. The betrayer; the friend.

“Sujin,” she whispered as gently a waking lover, though love was neither her purpose nor her desire. She sat up, ensuring to cover her modesty while she patted down some stray hairs. “Are you awake?”

“I am now,” he whispered back. He peeled his deep brown eyes open and greeted her with a vacant smile. “That was-,” he yawned, “different.”

“Are you okay?” She asked.

“I am. Did you get from this, what you hoped for?”

“I... I think so. A name, if not a direction.” She rubbed a bruised hand over her face and wiped away the sleep from her eyes. “I’m gonna go bathe. I’ll see you later.”

“I-Yes, I will see you later,” he replied as though there was more to be said, and yet he choked back anything beyond.

----------------------------------------

Evara white-tongue, Niamh had called her. A fitting name and one well-earned as Ash entered the group dining hall. Her hair still sopped from the bath, but her skin glistened like it had never done before. Maybe the entrails of eternal torments were good for the pores. Ev noticed her enter and a measure of confidence drained from the young girl as she recounted the tales of the day to Amell.

“Speak of the devil,” Amell chuckled. He set his cobalt eyes upon her as a beaming smile cracked from beneath his freshly pruned beard. “Did you really strangle a demon with its own legs?”

“I- What? No,” Ash sighed. “I don’t think those were even really legs. I don’t know what they were.” She shuddered at the thought of the grotesque thing.

“Okay, maybe she didn’t strangle it,” Ev admitted, “but she definitely kicked its arse!”

“I don’t doubt it,” Amell chuckled. He held a hand out to a seat at the head of the table for Ash to take. She looked at him, somewhat surprised at the honour, but eventually set herself down.

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The enchanter came in soon after, though somewhat overdressed for the event. He wore a black suit in the same fashion as the one he had worn to Lady Macau’s manor.

“And how are you, Sujin?” Evara sweetly asked.

“I am well, thank you. Just recovering from my nap,” he replied, shooting a glance towards Ash.

“Tell me about it. Nothing more draining than a good nap,” Ev giggled.

“I’d take you as something of an expert on the matter,” Amell grinned. “Seeing how you slept through our first introduction.”

“Yeah, but in my defence, I did just blow up a forest!”

“Not to mention, us,” Sujin added.

“I’ve apologised for that!”

“Well, judging by that journeyman circlet, I’d guess there’s no risk of a repeat occurrence?”

“Oh, heavens no. I’m definitely going to blow myself up again. Just, this time it will be intentional,” she proudly declared.

“Wait, you seek to continue your studies?” Sujin almost gasped.

“Well, yeah? That was the whole point of the day?” Ev scoffed. Her dismissively confident tone failed to find her eyes. Her gaze fell from the enchanter towards an empty mug, which she pretended wasn’t empty while she hid her face behind it.

“But... You have seen the consequences now. The demon... the corruption. You still seek to proceed?”

“Well... yeah,” she awkwardly repeated. “I’ll just be extra careful.”

“Careful? Evara, I know you’ll be careful but caution isn’t enough when you step into the mouth of a hungered beast. Step as gently and as slowly as you like; it is but a matter of time before its maw snaps shut.” He spoke pleadingly, but not demanding. He did not dare tell her what to do, but his eyes begged her to follow another path, whatever that may be.

“I-” Ev tried to start. She fell back behind her cup for a moment before looking at Ash. “I have to try. I’m good at this, I’m actually good at something. Everything in me says I was born for this. I will be careful, but I will keep moving forward.”

A quiet moment passed. It didn’t last long, but it gripped the room with a terrible strength. It was not the celebrants who broke its squeeze, but the doorway at the end of the room. The near-pink wood creaked open and allowed a woman to enter. Long black hair and an all too forced smile. It was Mei, her ‘personal attendant’.

“I hope I am not interrupting,” she mildly bowed.

“Of course not,” Evara smiled, clearly grateful for the distraction. “It’s Mei, right?”

“It is,” Mei smiled. “The Champion has asked me to join you. This is acceptable?”

“The more the merrier!” Amell chuckled.

“Thank you, my lord,” Mei bowed again. She walked to a seat towards the far end of the table and struggled back a genuine smirk as Amell’s jaw dropped slightly.

“My lord?” Amell repeated, dumbfounded.

“Your title remains applicable, no?”

“I- What title?” Amell spluttered.

“The lord scion-ship of House Fielder. Your lands have not yet been usurped, therefore you are still the lord of Heaven’s shanty.” She allowed a polite curl to meet her lips. It was the mask she had hidden behind since they had first met, one she had let slip only when discussing Ash’s Championship. Her true smile couldn’t have been so... pleasant; so refined.

“You’re not supposed to know that,” Amell coldly said.

“And yet I do, my lord. My deepest apologies.” She set herself down in her seat and looked across the table to Ash. “I hope I have not offended. My... friends, tell me much. I assure you, I am no threat. All secrets told within my walls shall never leave them.”

“That's... comforting,” Amell lied. He noticed that the woman did not look at him as she spoke, but at Ashtik alone. “Do your ‘friends’ say much else?”

“Oh, plenty. I have many a tale to tell, though few of which I am permitted to. The Lady Macau, for instance,” Mei slowly said. She shifted her confident gaze from Ashtik for a moment and allowed it to lap over the shifting enchanter. “One hears many tales of such an interesting woman... and the pets she keeps.”

“Ooh, juicy. Spill the gossip then,” Evara giggled.

“Gossip is mundane, my lady,” Mei protested.

“Gossip is the lifeblood of politics! Gossip makes the world go round,” Ev insisted.

“The world will spin without politicking, my lady. One ought to focus more on what makes it worth spinning. For instance, my Lady Champion, a tailor will arrive this evening. The lady Macau will send him. It seems likely she will be joining alongside him too.” Mei placed her palms flat against the old wooden table and a young maid rushed out, seemingly from nowhere, to fill her cup. The young woman then rounded the table and filled each empty cup, but for Sujin who held a hand over his own.

“How could you know that?” Sujin asked.

“My friends told me,” Mei smugly answered. “Popularity can be a boon at times.”

“Why is she sending a tailor?” Ev asked.

“It seems she was displeased with our Champion’s attire during their meeting.” Mei made a point of sniffing at that. It was she, after all, who had chosen the outfit.

“I thought you were dashing, Ash,” Ev insisted.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mei smiled.

Sujin struggled to pry his gaze from the woman. Everything she had said seemed to disquiet him greatly. It didn’t take long for Mei to acknowledge his leer.

“Master forger?” She politely said.

“This ‘friend’... Who is it?” he curtly demanded.

“A friend might be generous. A colleague more like.”

“Who?”

“Now, it wouldn’t be proper of me to divulge a dear coworker’s identity. Worry not, I have friends in all rungs of life, your lady is not a focal point.”

“But you still spy on her?”

“She’s a Ducissa. Everyone spies on her,” Mei snipped. “Not that I, a lowly maid, am party to such criminalities.”

“Why would you reveal anything? Why tip us off that you have these ‘friends?’”

“She’s trying to impress Ash,” Amell sighed, clearly bored of the conversation.

“She is?” Sujin asked.

“Aye, she’s hoping that Ash will take her on as her spymaster when she goes to Raven keep.”

All eyes fell upon the dark-haired woman as she sat, stone-faced, at the end of the table. If they expected her to protest, their expectations fell flat.

“A Champion of Black will have - and need - many friends,” Mei coldly said. Her smoky eyes bounced between Ash and Sujin. The same look seemed both mocking towards the man, and sincere towards the woman. “She will not need a spymaster, but a head maid with a great talent for making acquaintances.”

“That sounds like the same thing,” Ev scoffed.

“Maybe,” she admitted. “And yet it is not. Champion, it is within my interests to see you win this war, allow me to help however I can. You will have greater and greater need of my services as time goes on, I am positive of it.”

“I know a thousand would-be spymasters,” Amell coldly said. “And a head maid is easily come by.”

“And yet, I am – I think – uniquely adept in all matters required of a would-be queen. One might make a fine steward of me, or a tutor in more... subtle arts. The choice is, of course, my lady Champion’s.”

For the first time, all eyes fell on Ash and for the first time, she was expected to speak. The almost offended look of Sujin pled for this woman’s dismissal. The cold glare of the old knight advised caution while the youthful curiosity that burnt so brightly in little steel eyes offered no advice but complete faith and deference.

“There are many roads to power,” Ash finally said. “I do not know which I tread. My Goden has granted me the steel of Amell’s blade, the magic of Evara’s mind, the deftness of Sujin’s hand, and now... mayhaps the reach of your sight. So many have claimed that my path is a blood-soaked one, but perhaps if I can see the battles before they come, I can spare some of that blood.”

“Then you will accept my aid?”

“I will accept your accompaniment. I don’t think I can trust you, but I’m not a very good judge of character, so I will see how you act. I will see who you are, and if you are good, I will accept your aid. Is this acceptable?”

“Whatever I can do for you, Champion, I will. It is a vow.” Mei placed her palms together and bowed her head against the table for a moment. “But that is for another time; I have spoiled enough of your meal, let happier conversations take course. We might discuss further as our trail unfolds.”

“Aye,” Evara groaned. “I’m starving and we spent ages cooking!”

“Right,” Ash snorted. “Let’s eat.”

----------------------------------------

A horde of maids and servants marched from within the kitchen. They each carried a platter and a bottle. The starters were an ornate fusion of forgeland meats in Xaoei style. Salted and spiced chicken wrapped in greaseless bands of pig back bacon and fatty strips of rambent meat. The pieces were each too small to call a meal but drew a mighty hunger into Ash’s belly. The floating pepper that swirled over her tongue and the diced chilly that warmed her cheek left her ravenous, yet the dish left her intentionally yearning.

Her tankard of water was replaced with the first bottle; a light and bubbly strawberry cider with a single lime slice left at the side. Amell’s bottle was gone in a swig, though it seemed as though it wasn’t for the love of the drink. The old man’s sun-kissed skin had grown bright red after the first bite.

“If meat burns, it's not been off the flame long enough,” he tried to chuckle, though the sweat dripping from his brow seemed to hold back his usual gregarious laugh.

Evara smiled as she finished her own bite, “Do they not have spicy food in Kovayesh, ser?”

“In Kovayesh, maybe, but I haven’t been to Kovayesh in quite some years,” he puffed. “The Bloodlanders prefer their meat bloody and fresh. More like to assume this is poisoned than seasoned.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for future meetings,” Mei giggled.

The main dish of the day came soon after the first. Straight away, she thought it a loaf of bread, but once Evara - with her wicked little grin - sliced into it, she realised that a mound of beef was hidden within. It was not bread but some kind of brittle, flaky pastry. She sliced into her own and found a thick pink prize hidden beneath the concealing layer. Evara’s seemed much darker than her own, and the girl seemed much happier for it.

“Do you like it?” Ev asked.

Ash looked out to her little sister, who seemed to be tracing each subtle reaction anyone made to the food. “I’m guessing you made it?”

“I- might have,” Ev said, nearly biting her lip. “But I wouldn’t want to bias you. Tell me what you think, honestly.”

“It's...” Ash sliced through the pastry and made sure to run it through some of the spilt juice before taking a bite. It was perfect. Juicy and warming. It melted on her tongue and spread to encompass each tastebud in a rosy melody of tender and buttery. “Pretty good.”

“Yeah, it's good,” Amell flatly agreed.

“You hate it,” Ev concluded.

“Yup, disgusting. Never going to be able to eat again in case I get flashbacks to the horrors of this dish,” Ash teased.

“You’re mean,” Ev childishly huffed.

“I’m also gonna devour every bite,” Ash smirked. “And I’m gonna ask for seconds.”

“Really?”

“Nah, I’m gonna throw it out a window,” Ash laughed.

“I’d ask you to rate it from one to ten, but I doubt you could count that high anyway,” Ev grumbled.

“I’m only teasing you, it's brilliant Evy. Ten out of ten, if that's the bigger number?”

“Really this time?”

“Really, really,” Ash promised.

“It is damn fine,” Sujin agreed with an unusual fervour.

Evara made no attempt to mask her blush. She’d have kicked her feet and twirled her hair, had she not made every effort to appear ‘lady-like’ despite the fresh colour worn almost proudly in her cheeks.

The meal carried on. The next drink was clearly not granted by Evara’s choice. Ash knew it by distant scent alone. Vodka, straight and strong. Pure enough to burn buildings as well as throats. It didn’t take a detective’s keen mind, or Mei’s supposedly vast network of spies to figure out whose fault this was.

“Thank you kindly, dear,” Amell beamed as his chalice was filled. He sipped it as though sipping water and the mischievous grin hidden behind his mug tipped Ash off that he had not requested the drink purely for the love of the burn.

“What is this?” Evara asked.

“Bad,” Ash answered. “This is what left you so hungover after the baron’s feast.”

“Ooh,” Ev sighed casually. “Neat.”

To Ash’s - and everyone else’s - amazement, Evara downed half the cup in one go.

“What the fuck,” Ash groaned. She placed a hand over Ev’s cup as a serving boy tried to top her up.

“I fear you’re going to regret that, young Evara,” Sujin chuckled. He took a swig of his own, though quickly spluttered it back out. “That’s stronger than I’m used to,” he admitted.

“Truly, I believe it is an import. I’d guess, Telek Aob by the flavouring,” Mei suggested as she took a casual sip.

“Impressive! How can you tell?” Amell enthused.

“The Forgelanders use potatoes. The northerners use wheat. I believe it is illegal to brew in Kovayesh?” Mei listed.

“It is, but we did have a small black market for it. They mostly used cereals left over from the harvest.”

“Interesting, I’ll have to acquire a bottle from a friend. Feel free to join me... anytime,” Mei said, her tone growing breathy as she went along.

“Gladly, provided you can acquire a bottle,” Amell said plainly.

“Then I simply must,” she laughed, covering her mouth with her sleeve. “But as I was saying, Telek Aob.” Mei took a deep swig and focused her gaze back on her remaining crumbs of food. “They ferment berries and fruits to make the vodka. In all honesty, I think they do it best. A vodka with actual flavour and texture. Their wine, on the other hand,” she exaggerated a shudder. “One cannot imagine how sour a grape can be until one samples an Aobanic dry.”

“Something of an aficionado, are we?” Amell chuckled.

“No, dear, I’m an alcoholic,” she smirked, her mask clearly slipping as the drink stripped her of her formality. It became clear, even from the other end of the table, that a red flush had filled Mei’s face. Ash had heard that such could happen to Xaoei and Forgeland folk, but she had never witnessed it. Sujin didn’t seem to share the trait. He sipped gladly, though not a hint of extra colour found him.

“A woman after my own heart,” Amell smirked.

“Dear, the heart’s not the part I'm after.”

Luckily for all present, the two were separated by an entire table, though that didn’t make the blatant eyeing any less awkward.

“Ahem, desert?” Ev coughed. It broke Amell’s focus. He turned to the young girl at his side and smiled warmly.

“What are we having?”