Herah, Owen, and Jeffery arrived back to the meadow and found Alex standing in the center. Between his fingers, a black flower with white roots twirled lazily as his eyes darted about.
“They’re here, sis.” The soothsayer called out before tossing the flower away and inclining his head towards the binder.
“Owen.”
“Alex.”
Max landed next to her brother as Alex turned to the artist.
“Ashbrain.”
“Un écaillemoins batard.”
“That’s a new one,” The soothsayer glanced to the liar. “Mind translating?”
“Scaleless bastard.” Max responded before glaring between Herah and Alex. “Please don’t start an argument.”
The artist snapped her mouth shut as the soothsayer shrugged. The liar looked to the binder and smiled softly. Owen nodded and raised a hand. A glowing, green circle filled with circles and squares appeared over his palm. The ground surrounding the quad rumbled for a moment before thick roots reached out of it and formed themselves into three chairs. Herah sat down atop the flowers while the rest sat within the roots.
“Hit us with the plan, bro.”
Alex smiled at his sister before nodding.
“Okay, plan is simple. Tonight, Ashbrain and sis, you’re scouting out the Oni base. Owen and I are scouting the forest. The goal is info gathering: getting a lay of the land and the capabilities of our enemies.”
The artist glanced at the liar, a soft smile her response, before looking back at the soothsayer.
“Max and I?”
Herah didn’t need to smell Alex to know his displeasure, the thinning of his lips spoke loud enough.
“Sis is best at stealth, and incompatibilities between our Gifts means she’s worse with me along for the ride. You’re also the fastest way there, tough enough to cover for any slips that occur, and your sensory capabilities means you can get the best scope of not just their current situation but the most direct path towards them.”
“Ok.” The artist replied, grinning.
The soothsayer rolled his eyes, then glanced to the binder.
“Owen, I’m thinking that magic of yours and your skillset are a good fit for understanding the land and the life that fills it. You’re going to help me sus out any surprises and figure if we can make any of our own.”
The binder frowned.
“I won’t make traps.”
Alex shook his head.
“I know, as I said, goal is info gathering.” The soothsayer pointed at the Owen’s hat. “You got stuff that helps to identify and understand alien life?”
The binder let out a sigh then shook his head before sinking into his seat.
“I can cobble something together.”
“Good, how that sound to you, sis?”
Max’s eyes sought her two other team members.
“I’m fine with the plan. Herah and Smithy, you got any issues?”
“No.” The artist answered.
“None that come to mind.” The binder replied before a double-take. “Smithy?”
The liar smiled and winked at Owen.
“I like the sound of it. You’re a smith and you call the rest of us names based on smithing tools. So, you’re Smithy.”
“Okay.”
Max looked up and squinted at the moon.
“How much longer we got till the night’s over with?”
“We got here in the afternoon, about eight hours ago,”Alex said, tapping his nose. “Bizzaro is about the same size as Earth since neither you or I feel noticeably lighter or heavier, yet its star and moons moves slower through the sky than ours do at similar heights. Going off the timescale Norwe gave us, a general ballpark of full rotations by the planet would be forty hours. I would assume in that case that nights are twenty hours long.”
Max frowned at her brother.
“Aren’t days back home different in length depending on location?”
Alex nodded.
“Yeah, but since I don’t think this planet got it’s axis tilted, and I’m assuming our location is similar to somewhere on Earth that can support this type of forest year round.”
“Confident?” Herah asked.
“Not particularly,” Alex frowned, his eyes snapping up to the sky for a moment. “I’m assuming the underlying rules of weather work the same in this universe as in mine, but that might not be true.”
“Presence and Will allow you to figure stuff like that out, why not use it?”
The soothsayer’s eyes snapped to the artist, glaring.
“You can do the same through Jeffery, why don’t you?”
“Jeffery’s picky.”
“Good. I’m picky too.”
Herah scowled.
“Liberal with it earlier.”
“Thought I might need it.”
“You two,” Max cut in, the spice of annoyance coloring her scent. “Back on topic.”
Herah and Alex exchanged scowls before the soothsayer returned his attention to the liar.
“Let’s assume ten hours and hope for twenty.”
“Why ten?” Max asked.
“That’s the shortest amount of night we get on Earth, I’m assuming it won’t be any shorter here.”
“So in that case, we have six hours at least of night to work with.” The liar turned to the artist. “How long will it take to for you to get us there, Herah?”
Herah glanced at the purple beacon, even more apparent in the night. Unnaturally so.
“Quietly, six minutes.”
Max blinked, mouth slightly agape.
“Really?”
“About ninety-six ertèmolikas, so if I sit below mach speed, six minutes is how long.”
The liar looked the artist up and down, before grinning and patting her shoulder.
“I’m not used to someone that can travel long distances at such speeds.”
“Implies you’re used to the speed under different circumstances.”
Max nodded, grin widening.
“I’ve been in my fair share of fights where the universal speed limit was one of many laws violated.”
The liar punctuated the word law with a wink that made about as much sense as the rest of the sentence to Herah.
“The what?”
Max took a moment, frowning before shaking her head and resuming her grin.
“Where we come from, nothing is supposed to be able to move faster than light.”
“Strange,” The artist shrugged. “In my reality, light is to be surpassed as easily as sound.”
The liar’s hopped excitedly, eyes wide and hands clapping.
“You know people who can go faster than light!?”
“At two hundred, all Cendreux eclipse light.”
“Cool.” Max said, nodding to herself.
“Why do you say that?” Herah asked.
“Say what?”
“Cool.”
The liar chuckled then ran some fingers through her brown ponytail.
“Oh, it means something is nice or interesting.”
The artist accepted it in stride, at this point used to the fact language differed within the group.
“We use hot for that. Cool can be an insult.”
Max’s grin shrunk, a small pang passing through Herah at the sight. The liar’s fingers flowed through her hair faster.
“Sorry.”
The artist shook her her head and laughed.
“You’re fine, I know you meant no harm.”
“Not as bothered by that one as the pronouns.”
Herah turned to Alex, and saw no scowl this time nor detected any malice. The soothsayer looked back with only a raised brow.
“To be cool is not always an insult,” The artist said, frown sharp. “Reference without name or title always is.”
“Well,” Attention returned to Max, who watched the talking pair with narrowed eyes. “Before you two somehow devolve into an argument, we should probably split now and not waste hours. Unless there’s something more to be said by anyone else?”
Alex rose from his seat and waved dismissively after the rest.
“Just don’t engage unless you have to.”
Smoke flared from Herah’s nostrils, a frown snapping to her face.
“Not for you to decide. You’re not the boss here.”
The soothsayer froze. For a moment, anger overwhelmed his scent. Then, a chuckle marked the rising smell of satisfaction, before Alex turned his sight back onto the artist.
“But I’m yours.”
“Hey!” Max stood up, moving to block the pair from each other’s vision. “Can you two just—”
“What if I said to engage?
…
…
…
The traitorous weight of fear fell upon Herah as Norwe the Sloth peaked over Alex’s shoulder. The soothsayer froze up, sweat forming atop his brow as his Maker’s claws twiddled before his chest. The artist leaped to her feet growling, small beads of sweat condensing all across her body where scale didn’t cover skin. The binder sunk into his chair, the roots writhing and growing to cover and shield his body from his Maker’s slothy touch. The liar’s eyes widened then locked onto her brother and Make-sloth as her hands ran through her hair.
Something’s off! I wasn’t this afraid before. Is this something finally hitting me or are you doing this on purpose!?
“Fuck off, Norwe!” Herah growled out, green flames flaring from her nostrils.
“Ashbrain! Do not insult our Maker, while he sits upon my back!”
The artist held her rising tongue.
“What do you want, Norwe?” Max asked, words terse and sharp.
“Did you not hear my question, my perfect liar?” The Maker-sloth asked, eyes locked onto the side of Alex’s head. “I’m curious to your answers. What if I gave the order for all of you to attack the Oni now? Who of you would obey me?”
“I won’t.” Herah said, a traitorous tremor rocking her body at the declaration. “You set a date already, stick to it.”
“Ashbrain!”
“Fair answer.”
It should’ve felt good to deny Norwe the Sloth. But her statement only drenched her body further in sweat as the Maker-sloth kept their eyes on the soothsayer.
“How about you my responsible binder?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Did I ask what you want to do? Or did I ask what you will?”
The artist growled and moved in front of Owen, even as her body screamed to do anything but.
“I can’t.” The binder whispered, a single eye all that peaked out from the roots shielding his form.
“Also fair.”
Norwe the Sloth’s eyes still hadn’t left Alex’ head.
“Liar?”
Max grinned. Somehow the liar could grin.
“Isn’t it more fun to see what happens when the time comes?”
“Isn’t it fascinating how you always know the perfect thing to say? I like that response.” The Maker-sloth raised a claw and pressed it against the side of the soothsayer’s face. “Though funnily enough, there’s an answer I desire more than any other. I wonder if I’ll get it.”
Alex sweated all the harder, shutting his eyes
“Whatever you wish.”
The artist didn’t know if sloths could normally frown, but Norwe the Sloth made it work.
“How boring. You’re always so boring. I want you to stop being boring.” A twinkle filled the beady little eyes of the Maker-sloth. “Could you give me your sister?”
Everyone froze.
“Wh-what?” The soothsayer asked, eyes snapping open as his sights finally turned to the Maker-sloth.
“I asked you to give me your sister. Does that not make clear my current desires?”
“Ple—”
Norwe the Sloth tapped Alex’s face with a delicate claw, like one might a child to get them to shut up. The soothsayer did exactly that.
“I thought you said, you’d do whatever I wish.” The Maker-sloth moved their head about Alex’s, eyes still twinkling as they took in their miserable Gifted. “You’re not my perfect liar, you’re my silly soothsayer. So please be silly, and be truthful. Why not give me your sister?”
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
And suddenly Max stood behind Norwe the Sloth, a card pressed to the back of their head.
“Hands off my brother.”The liar said, a sneer across her face. “I don’t fuckinng care if you’re my creator, I don’t care if you can erase me from existence with a thought. I won’t let you do whatever you wish with him.”
Herah’s mouth hung open, her mind taking seconds to process what should’ve taken less than one.
Max, are you mad!? The artist finally thought, her eyes sweeping from her leader to the Maker-sloth. Shock, fear, and worry filled the artist all at once, watching the liar risk herself. But a warmth also burned in her chest and her face, a pleasant warmth which spread through Herah’s body while waiting with bated breath.
Norwe the Sloth did not wait long.
“There we go! You reveal something others might’ve thought you didn’t have.” The Maker-sloth twisted their head a full one-eighty, a terrible CRACK following as bone turned a way it wasn’t meant. The air rippled around them, twisting into strange and distorted colors constantly in flux as they locked sights with Max and a grinned stretch across their furry face. “My dear artist might be the most willful here, but you got the experience to back your actions, right?”
The liar’s sneer deepened, and for a moment, Herah couldn’t help but recognize Alex’s sneer in his sister.
“I’m not asking you.”
Norwe the Sloth tilted their head sideways, the air around distorting more and more till colors possessing no name nor proper description manifested. The distortion spread, creeping towards the artist and binder as the Maker-sloth’s eyes ran up and down Max’s form.
“You make demands of your Maker? Not even prayers or request, but demands. So close, yet so far.”
“I don’t care, let go or I kill you.”
The Maker-sloth traced circles along the soothsayer’s cheeks, Alex’s mouth shut tight as his eyes sat wide and unblinking.
“Do you remember my words to the artist? Those silly ideas you bow to do nothing I do not desire to me.”
Max pressed her card into Norwe the Sloth’s forehead, and Herah smelled something sweet and sour fill the air as some greyish liquid dampened the card.
Strange blood, but makes sense for something like you, Norwe.
“I’ll make you desire it.” The liar whispered, still matching her Maker-sloth’s eyes. A warbled giggle, like tremors through the ground and chimes in the wind, filled the air as Norwe the Sloth pressed the claw into the soothsayer’s face and drew blood.
“Your tongue is gold not silver. Yet, maybe the words aren’t what matters, maybe it’s the actions. How about—”
An invisible wave of energy rolled off of Max, sweeping the entire meadow. All of the surrounding grass shriveled up and blackened, the roots Owen hid within darkened and a few of the thinner ones shrunk and withered, the pétales éclatés all around dimmed and even shed a petal or two here and there, and the Donneur de Frêne dropped a few leaves, now red. As the wave passed over, Herah felt a piercing cold run amok inside her body. Her heart stuttered and slowed in its beats, her blood grew sluggish within her arteries and veins, her vision blurred and shortened, her nose lost track of a few hundred smells or so and the stench of decay dominated, and her flame grew just a bit weaker.
Not a second later, her fire surged reflexively in response, red flames engulfing her and burning away at the unnatural cold gripping her form.
Glancing to the binder, the artist saw his dark eyes greying and heard how his breathing slowed and turned shallow. Herah listened as the grip of Owen’s tiny fingers slackened where they once strangled his hat and sniffed his scent turning rotten. Turning her eyes to the soothsayer, his skin had gained a blue hue while her focus was away and the blood dripping from his cheeks had darkened to a shade as close to black for red as possible.
Only the liar appeared unchanged in the wake of the unseen pulse. Their Maker, well, Herah didn’t believe their change was an after-effect of Max’s power.
No one could control what form you take.
For now, Norwe hovered in their six-armed, starry shape. Upside down and facing the liar with all but one of their arms crossed. The sole arm not folded across their chest held Alex by the back of his neck.
“What a fascinating reality you just picked.”
Max only sneered all the more.
“Now, leave us.”
The Maker shook their head before raising all three left arms to wag a finger each at the liar.
“Oh, but how could I? You’ve challenged me, my perfect liar. And you believe no god to not answer a challenge. While I am no god, you do still think me such. So, should I not respond proper?”
The artist’s nose wrinkled and, reflexively, saliva amassed within her mouth. So much in fact, Herah clenched her teeth tight to prevent the flood of drool. The smell of metal had grown heavy in the air, tinged with a savoriness that marked a particularly loved smell for the Cendreux as a whole.
Boiling blood and burning flesh, tinged with a coppery and earthy scent.
Only once the artist recognized those last two did her eyes catch up with her nose, yet Herah’s mind still lagged behind. It recognized what the scent was. But not who it was.
“Max!” Owen cried with a gasp, the roots surrounding his body falling away before the binder attempted a step around the artist. Herah moved to cover Owen still, eyes wide and a growl rumbling in her throat.
Max stood behind her brother and before the upside-down Norwe with red vapor and steam pouring from redder skin. Her eyes appeared a merged mess of pupils, irises, and scleras, all a dry and rusted brown. Her hair shriveled up and grew brittle, a few bits breaking off and dropping to the ground. Yet, the liar appeared undisturbed by her bodies ruination, arm still raised and sneer in-tact.
You’re blood’s cooking you. The artist thought, her brain finally finished processing the madness of her current reality. And once accepted, Herah let her growl tear from her throat and spread her wings. Fear still weighed her body down, but the artist could finally carry the weight. Jeffery! Help!
The pencil zoomed into Herah’s rising hand, the smooth texture of their coat on her palm soothing some of the terror in the artist’s heart. The sketchy, red aura bled from her creation and engulfed her entirety. The familiar feel of herself atop a stage with phantom eyes locked on her every move and the fear, anxiety, and freedom that came with Jeffery’s will invigorated the artist. The paralyzing fear following her Maker’s latest appearance finally lost its grip over Herah.
Her shroud of red flames turned orange then yellow before settling on green tinged by the red, sketchy will of Jeffery. Some of this aura extended towards Owen, but paused when the artist heard his breathing return to normal and smelled the fleeing of the rot in his scent. A glance back, and Herah saw a green halo over Owen’s head showering him in glowing triangles, squares and circles. Turning back, the artist spun her pencil over her head then dropped them into her other hand, crouching slightly while pointing Jeffery’s tip forward. An array of blackholes appeared all across Norwe’s back, the stardust surrounding them giving the appearance of eyes now locked onto Herah.
“My dear artist, do you wish to interrupt? Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty more chances to entertain me. Why not let my perfect liar have her time to shine? It’s only fair after she gave you yours.”
The artist growled again, her wings flexing as they readied to fling her full might forward. But then, Max flicked her gaze towards Herah and shook her head.
“I got this.” The liar’s voice showed neither sign of pain nor worry, the calm almost tranquil as her expression for but a moment turned to a grin. “I’ll be fine.”
The artist didn’t want to stop. Max’s grit surpassed Herah’s in the moment, but without the greater power Jeffery and Alex possessed, the liar lacked the ability to actually contend with her Maker. The liar needed help.
But, earlier, Herah agreed to defer to her judgment.
And we keep our word.
The artist lowered her arms and nodded.
Max turned her gaze back onto Norwe, her expression retuning to its sneer.
“Do we have to take this further?”
“That’s up to you. Afterall, the only one dying right now is my silly soothsayer.”
“He’ll be fine, he’s survived worse.”
Another pulse swept the area, and this time several pétales éclatés died and the already dead grass melted into sludge. Full clumps of red leaves fell from the Donneur de Frêne, white spots appearing along its trunk. Herah’s flame, Jeffery’s will, and Owen’s Science halted whatever greater effect would follow this unseen power as it swept over the artist and binder again.
Alex wasn’t so lucky.
Still clutched within his Maker’s grasp, the soothsayer’s skin appeared outright blue while black sludge now slogged out of the cut Norwe left upon his face. His fingers, clutched around his Maker’s arm, appeared a white so sickly and pale Herah might’ve mistaken it for the rot blooming upon the Donneur de Frêne. Yet, much like his sister, the artist didn’t think Alex cared for the unseen power killing him. The vinegar-like smell of his fear changed none since Norwe’s appearance, but the stench of his worry grew more and more overpowering with every passing second.
You worry more for your sister than yourself. I can respect that at least about you.
Then, the soothsayer’s scent shifted sharply.
The light-like will of Alex beamed down upon his body before spreading to engulf himself, his Maker, and sibling. And in a flash of light, Max vanished.
Everyone froze once again.
“Now that, my silly soothsayer, that was quite interesting.” Norwe twisted their head in a full one-eighty again, this time with no bones cracking. Their arm twisted around in an odd angle to put Alex face to face with their blackhole eyes. “Even if you think it’s futile.”
The Maker held another of their arms right next to the soothsayers head, and in a blink, Max reappeared with Norwe’s hand clutched around her head.
“Shit.” Herah cursed, before leaping towards her Maker jabbing Jeffery straight at their head. Another of Norwe’s arms shot up, their index finger clashing against’s Jeffery’s tip. A sharp CLANG filled the air as the artist struggled against her Maker.
“Don’t fear my dear artist. I’ll do no harm to either of them in this moment.”
Herah growled at Norwe, her aura of green flames tinged red focusing into a single bead in front of her mouth which the artist swallowed. Cheeks ballooning, Herah felt the fire whirl with fury atop her tongue while leaning back in preparation to blow. Just as her lips parted, her Maker stopped pushing against the artist’s thrust and flicked it upwards.
Suddenly looking up, Herah blasted a beam of green flames into the night sky dispersing some clouds as her fire left the atmosphere. Leaning back into her sudden flip, the artist landed on her feet and nearly leaped forward again until Norwe dropped both Alex and Max, the latter raising her hand for Herah to stop.
“Remember, I won’t do anything that makes me a liar.”
The artist growled again, but stood still as the liar commanded. The Maker nodded at Herah before turning their attention to the two Gifted free of their grip.
“You’re on the start of the right path, soothsayer. You just have to realize the lie in your truth. I think it’ll be nice to work on this more later.”
Alex kneeled with his head to the ground, his shallow breaths filling the air while his fingers buried themselves up to the knuckle in the muck of the dead grass.
“Good.” The soothsayer croaked out.
“And liar, how pleasant of you to provide entertainment and assistance in your brother’s journey.”
“Fuck you.” Max barked, glaring up at Norwe with her body and skin no longer steaming.
The Maker chuckled, the sound punchy and wet like bullets firing while lava bubbled nearby.
“Soothsayer, maybe show your sister some gratitude? It’s like you’re eight again.” Norwe began clapping all six of their hands, finally turning their body upright but still not touching the ground. “That all said, congratulations both of you. One might think me pleased.”
“But?” Max asked, staggering to her feet and shaking her head. “There’s a but.”
“At the end, you both still chose disappointing realities.”
The liar’s glare deepened.
“You said it was fascinating earlier.”
“Do fascination and disappointment have to be mutually exclusive?”
“Whatever.”
Norwe shook their head then looked at Herah and Owen, several stars appearing at the bottom of their head and arranging themselves to create a dotted smile.
“Soothsayer, you hoped that if you sent her to some far reality which didn’t sit under my influence, she might be safe. Liar, you might posture well for everyone else, but it’d be strange if your Maker could not see through your lies, would it not? Of course, you thought so too. That’s why you hoped talking the talk worked. To hope for a miracle can be a beautiful thing. Sometimes I enjoy it. ”
The Maker placed all their hands upon their chest.
“And as you see me as god, though I am not one, I am good at playing the role. Here is your miracle. Both unharmed, for one of you. And for the other, my word that as long as the soothsayer can see the liar, I shall not bully him.”
Norwe gestured at the two on the ground. And then, their smile turned upside down. Literally.
“You only get the one however. Next time I come knocking and ask something of one or the other, either you disobey and deal with the consequences or you obey and deal with the consequences. I look forward to seeing what reality you choose.”
Herah knew even though Norwe kept their eyes and smile on the artist and binder, their words were only meant for the twins.
The threat was only meant for the twins.
“Because everyone gets a freebie. And I don’t think either of you have used yours yet.” Norwe’s frown flipped back up into a smile. “Then again, maybe you won’t need it.”
Herah blinked, and her Maker was gone.
Yet even with Norwe away, calm didn’t return to those left.
Jeffery withdrew their will back into themselves, and the artist felt some phantom crash into her chest and knock her flat onto her butt. Muck covered Herah’s legs and shorts. The pencil slipped from their creator’s hands and floated high above everyone, spinning and shaking some of the black stuff off of themself.
Death surrounded the artist on all sides, a powerful and putrid smell overcoming the meadow once full of life. So powerful and widespread the stench, a stabbing pain like a needle piercing her skull filled Herah’s mind and instinctively forced her to mute her sense of smell. Even unable to smell it all, the weight of death felt suffocating. A single trickle of warm blood dripped from her nose. The bleeding set the artist’s mind on the condition of the rest.
Alex still lay upon the ground while Max stood with her eyes shut.
Can’t smell you, but you look fine, Max. Need to check Owen. I want to check Owen. I have to check Owen.
Glancing towards the binder, Herah saw Owen now a few feet away and looking around at everything. His eyes darted everywhere and took in everything, while his breaths came in shorter and shorter intervals.
From the artist’s flame emerged a memory of Norwe’s words from one of their earlier appearances.
My binder here, is terribly afraid of blood. Death too.
“Merde.” Herah mumbled out, before scrambling to her feet and starting towards Owen. But before the artist could do anything or get too close, a voice interjected.
“Owen, it’s okay.” Max said, drawing Herah’s eyes her way. The liar now stared up at the six satellites above, bathing in the moonlight. Her chest expanded and contracted in steady, even breaths, making her appear almost unbothered by the last few minutes.
The artist remembered smelling otherwise.
“You’re okay.” The liar continued. “You’re not afraid right now. You can bring life back to the meadow.”
Like a switch flipped, Owen’s breathing steadied and the binder closed his eyes.
“Yes, yes you’re right. I can fix this.”
Owen dropped to his knees, clasped his hands together and began to pray. Herah didn’t hear the words though. The artist couldn’t. With the liar and binder handled, Herah couldn’t find anything outside to focus on. So her mind finally turned inward. And as it did, that weight from earlier nudged Herah down to her knees. Just like Owen. But unlike the binder, prayer didn’t follow.
Tears did.
Herah didn’t even know why, her eyes just supplied a steady stream of water as her lips quivered and sniffles wiggled out of her nose. Her hands shook and the artist finally registered just how sticky her skin felt and how much more her scales shined under the moonlight when wet.
The entire situation with Norwe, it played over and over and over again in her head. Her flame provided the fresh memories and fed them into another fire. A fire growing hotter and larger. A fire unlike any other. A fire capable of burning a Cendreux. A burning fire which brought a sob to the back of Herah’s lips. A sob the artist could feel ready to escape.
Please, don’t! I can’t deal with this right now!
“The fuck are you crying for, Ashbrain!?”
Herah’s head snapped to Alex, the soothsayer still on his knees with his fingers buried in the sludge previously life. But his head no longer met the ground. Instead, it faced the artist, lips twisted in a snarl as his eyes glared straight into her own. The cut Norwe left on his face remained no longer, and the sludge from it disappeared into the black muck remaining in place of the meadow’s greenery.
“You weren’t the one with Norwe all over you or baking in your fucking skin. So why are you crying?”
Herah almost felt grateful for the distraction, her tears drying as a growl loosed from her lips in place of a cry.
“Alex,” Max said, just before a tired sigh escaped her. “You near pissed yourself and you just spent like an entire minute with your head buried in something grosser than mud. Please, shut the fuck up.”
“I—”
“Sorry, I phrased that as a request. Shut the fuck up, that’s an order.”
The soothsayer said no more, instead rising to his knees shakily and stumbling towards the edge of the meadow where some grass still remained. The artist smiled at the small mercy, even as her vision started to fog again.
“And Herah, it’s okay.” The liar leaned down, teeth flashing as her lips stretched into a smile. “You’re not used to that type of confrontation. And you still showed some real spine there.”
The burning fire inside dimmed but didn’t disappear.
“Took too long.” Herah muttered.
“Took long enough.” Max said.
“Didn’t change a thing.”
“Norwe only let go after you attacked. I don’t know what he was planning next, but it wasn’t letting us go until you did what you did.”
The artist frowned, shaking the gunk of the meadow off one hand before rubbing the fog from her eyes. The burning fire inside grew weaker still, but still wouldn’t go. Herah focused on Max, locking eyes.
“Do you believe that?” the artist asked.
“I believe in you.” The liar answered.
…
…
…
…
“Okay.”
Max nodded before returning to her full height and looking back up at the moons.
“Let’s get going, we’re burning moonlight.”
“Not how that phrase works.” Alex said, sitting with his back against one of the trees bordering the dead meadow.
“You know what I meant.” The liar glared at her twin then turned back to Herah, offering a hand up. Before taking it, the artist expelled orange flames from all over her body and burnt away the waste dirtying it. Herah took Max’s hand, allowing the liar to assist the artist to her feet. The burning fire inside, finally died out as Herah’s mind refocused and her eyes swept the meadow again.
Owen still knelt, yet the binder said his prayer no more. Now an array of large green circles within circles with smaller triangles and circles encircling each larger shape hovered over the entire meadow. A shower of sparkling green lights fell upon the dead space, and everywhere a sparkle fell the muck reconstituted itself into the life which previously filled the space.
The artist stood awed, watching life return slowly but surely. And when sparkles fell upon her skin or scales, Herah felt a warmth tickle at her body but it never got particularly deep. The artist couldn’t help but feel calmer.
Finally, a small peace, a fragile one, settled upon everyone.
The slap of not feet on muck and a slight prod to her shoulder set Herah’s eyes back on Max. The liar smiled before patting the artist’s arms.
“Mind carrying me?”
“No.”
“Thanks, my hero.” Max looked towards her twin, both his eyes shut and head resting against a tree. “Once Owen wraps up his work, don’t rush into your side of things. It’s safer than what we’re up to, so take your time.”
“I know that, sis.”
“Then you can just say, yes, Alex.”
The soothsayer cracked one eye open and grimaced.
“Yes, sis.”
“Thank you.” The liar looked back to the artist. “Ready when you are.”
“I have to pray first.”
“I’ll be next to Alex.”
Herah nodded as Max walked over to her twin, then set off for the Donneur de Frêne. Straight ahead, the artist ran her eyes along the bark and noticed the white patches fading under the binder’s Science.
Useful. And pleasant.
But as Herah admired the rot disappearing, the artist couldn’t help but think of what caused it. A frown came to her face.
You never mentioned that power before, Max. And it doesn’t fit your Gift at all. You said Alex had to tell us everything not related to his Gift, but you never said you had to. So I guess you didn’t lie. But still, you deceived me. But I’m not angry.
Herah fell to her knees again, forced all her senses away, and immersed her body within her flame. Warmth her only sensation, the artist began to sing. But her mind didn’t focus on the songs lyrics, this one a song about the first song La Flamme sung to the Cendreux. A short and sweet one easy to recall and speak when her mind was otherwise occupied. And the current occupant was Max still.
When you said you believe in me, I didn’t believe you. If your Gift works as I think it does, that’s the only truthful thing I know you’ve said for sure. Or I could be wrong. The truth of the matter is that I don’t really know you, Max.
Without prompting, Herah’s flame began to supply a replay of everything the artist saw of the liar. From her first greeting, to Max mediating in the room, to the liar mediating outside of it, to Max taking charge, and to the liar’s showoff against Norwe. As all of it passed through Herah’s mind once more, the artist felt a different warmth alongside her fire. It filled her chest, dusted her cheeks, and tugged a small grin out of her lips. The artist’s prayer ended, and a thanks and love for La Flamme passed between her lips. And as Herah turned away and let Max know they were set to go, the artist thought one thing.
I don’t know you Max, but I want to.