“So where are we landing.” The angel asked and Two sighed.

Her eyeless gaze fell to the city below. Legend had it that a mountain had once stood where the slum now wallowed. The city had carved it away, its only remnant was Spes Nova’s oft-painted over grey brick. She looked for a fleck of green along the city’s spine. A place where the painted roofs of the city gave way to wear but had not quite fallen in the slum’s bare tones.

“There.” She proclaimed and the mist churned carrying her closer to the place of her desire. It felt so strange not to be and stranger still was the lack of discomfort. Was this what clouds felt like?

Down they hurtled at speeds great enough to turn the strongest stomach. They did not slow as the ground raced to meet them. Despite her present state Two flinched but could not pull her eyes away. They struck the ground as a lance of thick fog and broke against the grass. Scattering in every direction in an explosion of tendrils.

Then she was flesh again. She looked at her hands and the fading mist that crept and danced across the babbling brook that cut across the clearing. She looked at the angel with eyes just as curious as hers. As if she was as interesting as the sights the sights he had shown.

She realised she was smiling a bit too wide.

“Well,” she said and schooled her expression. She threw her arms open wide and spun in a slow circle.

Evadney would be aghast at her casual tone, Two could not bring herself to care.

Behind her stood a tree, but it was unlike the pampered things the nobles had. It was worn and scraggly, burnt and scarred. Many of its branches had broken but all had been replaced with new growth only for the cycle to repeat. It was a paradox, stumpy yet tall, frail yet resilient.

It grew from the broken foundation of a building long deceased. Moss adorned its old bark and coloured the smoothed stones it rooted in. A green blanket that thickened as it approached the brook’s clear waters. A few grasses sprouted from the deepest cracks in the stone and were swayed by the fall’s departing wind.

The air was crisp and clean. The strongest essence around was the angel’s mist and the plants’ gentle desires.

“Here we are, a place I find familiar, comfortable. and interesting I don’t know why you wished for it, but I hope it is to your liking.”

“It is…” Was that a note of surprise? Two fought the sudden urge to smile like a fool that rose despite everything. She sat beneath the stubborn trees’s thick canopy and watched the angel. He looked at it like he looked at everything, like a treasure. He looked at the old stone buildings surrounding her hideaway with naked curiosity.

“They’re abandoned. Most of the stuff around here is.” He glanced at her for a moment before his curiosity took him and he returned to looking at the husks of himes.

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“Why has no one come to reclaim this place.”

“I don’t think they’re allowed to. The governor has been trying to empty the slum since before I was born. While this place isn’t technically part of it, the people who lived here were. However many years ago a flood came through and did what floods do. Citing safety concerns no one was allowed back.” It was a story that had defined her life and so many others. A slow war people like her had lost before they even knew it began. She doubted the woman responsible would appreciate her ‘polluting’ the emissary with her truth. “At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“So how did you find it.” He stared at her with the quiet intensity of an interest that knew no end.

Two had no good answer. “I don’t remember.” She sighed a stared up into the swaying canopy above. Dark and light green leaves ruffled as peeks of blue came in and out of view. “This place has always been in my memory, it’s always been somewhere to hide and recover when I stole the wrong thing. Or pissed off too many people.” Two surprised herself with her honesty. She tried to remember the last time she enjoyed another’s company.

Only Daisy came to mind, but she was younger then. Not quite able to see through the woman. How the things they taught her and the time they spent together just served to make her a better liar, a better sneak. A better jewel for the serpent’s horde.

She sighed and committed herself to action, “Emissary may I be so bold as to use your name.” She wondered if the old snake’s lesson that names bred familiarity applied to angels.

The angel blinked and their great wings fluffed and shook in a display of rich brown, pale gold and surprise. That was far too amusing. “Yes.” He agreed as she suspected he would.

“You seem surprised.” She said, her voice stripped of good humour.

“I am, you would be the first mortal to address me without title.” He shook off his surprise and his shifting wings returned to his side. “You may call be Ignis, but I am more sued to Igni. It is what my brother calls me.”

It was Two’s turn to be surprised. Hers was a muted thing hidden behind a vacant stare and slight twitch. “Well then Igni,” she said and tried not to let the realization angels had pet names distract her. “Is there any hope for me? Is there anything I can do?”

This was a topic better suited for back alleys and tearful faces. Yet the wind rustled leaves above and the brook sang as it jumped over smooth stones. The bright sun lanced through the breaks in the leaves and it was an effort not to grin. The gloom was there but it was like the shadow of a leaf. Not a moonless night’s smothering press. Two was ready for disappointment and didn’t know what she’d do after.

“There is.” Life loved to leave her just enough room to hope. “But it is not a sure one. I would need to touch you to be sure of anything.”

“`Touch me? Haven’t I already taken your hand?”

He smiled and spoke the words that terrified her. “Not your body Two your soul, your heart.” Two thought of his brother. Of the hing, he became in that transition. An eye had looked at her then, one that belonged to no mortal and that nature bore a spine-shattering weight. She’d known awe in that moment. She learned what it was like to be seen by something greater than her.

She looked at Igni. Kind curious Igni and her throat dried. Lux had been a man with an oddly bright smile.

In and she breathed and let the plant’s desires suffuse her. The mosses peace. The grass stubbornly desires to grow. The tree’s hard won peace. She drank them and in their earthy tones found courage. She opened her eyes and rose. “I’m ready”

He walked over to her. She raised her hand to meet his and felt… warm skin. She stared at where their fingers touched then craned her neck back to meet his eyes. “Aren’t I supposed to feel something?”

He blinked. “No,”

“…Oh”

Her had dropped and Two shuffled backwards.

Igni hummed and his features twisted in thought. “You have a decade until you become contagious and perhaps another of meaningful life.” A few words and her life halved and she was nearly halfway through what remained.

“But there is a solution.”

“Cultivation is the only way to change your fate. You must fortify your spirit to become strong enough to combat the poison.” His voice was grave and his eyes sad.

Two hoped though she knew it would burn. “But there’s a catch. There always is”

And burn it did. “Taint is a cancer as you grow so will it faster and faster. Each step you advance will cut your life. I can’t be certain how much but it will be a marathon measured in years..”

Two roads expanded before. Both were shrouded in death. Two aches confronted her. The former a thing of spite, the latter of longing What would it like to be powerful? What would it be like to live free? Neither were things she knew.

But could she expect either from the sure course? She did not know what Lancet planned for. Perhaps she would become a servant, perhaps she’d be thrown away. She could hope but it was cruel flame. Something would happen, something always did.

She would burn, she would suffer. The question was from what?

There never was a choice.