Nala didn't return to the room she shared with Tzugakk. Instead she found herself walking through the ruins near the sprawl, pausing to collect a few RedBerries from an unexpectedly uncamped gather point, making her way to the flat green grass fields that surrounded waveless beach, padding across the light sand of the beach itself and then to the oddly artificial area past this, filled with tall crumbling pillars and long angular piers that stretched out over the edge of Bright Battle Island; over the drop to the far-below ocean. At the end of one of these piers—the longest—there was a stone couch, covering with deep angular carvings, and it was on this that Nala sat. From here she could see the end of the pier, covered in short, pale green grass. She could see the stump of a ruined pillar to her left, and to her right one that had better stood the test of time. She could see the dark green ocean, stretching out to the horizon, and she could see the sky, deep blue and scattered with long clouds, and she could see the moon, a pale crescent high above.

Eventually, she could see the stars.

"Do you come here because you're tempted to jump?"

There were no lights, this far from the heart of the academy. When the moon was dull, as it was this night, seeing the shadowtail was nearly impossible.

"There is magic to prevent death," Nala said, staring straight at the shadowtail. It sat in its usual spot, in the very centre of the pier, staring back at her with unseen eyes. "I'd earn a demerit and be teleported to the infirmary."

"Would you?"

Nala narrowed her eyes.

"Safehold shards," she said. "BrightCircles. These are like shackles. They chain us to this place."

"Can shackles not be unlocked? Can chains not be broken?"

There was a soft chime, and Nala glanced down at her BrightCircle—another message from Mist. She'd been getting them all day, ever since she'd left the examination hall. This latest one read:

leaving blue haven now going to look at new team house come meet us there!

Mist's messages invariably ended with an exclamation mark.

"Can BrightCircles be unlocked?" Nala asked, still gazing down at the glowing message. "Can safehold shards be broken?"

There was no response from the shadowtail. When Nala looked up, she couldn't see any trace of it.

With a small sigh—the first she'd let out all day, despite everything—Nala began the long walk back along the pier, heading towards the sprawl and the room she shared with Tzugakk, to tell him everything he'd missed; all of the crushingly disappointing achievements of the day.

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

"Is that it? That must be it! Oh, it's ... kind of better than I expected ... kind of..."

Dinner at the Blue Haven had been fun, even Amanda eventually smiling (well, a little). James Bloodspit had joined them for dumplings before heading off to SilverStar's team house—a cottage on the hills near Everglim, apparently—and Arbie had dropped in to pick up some food before heading back to his team's house—some kind of fortress in battle quarter—and even Evia Mordein had come in to get away from 'the boys', but nobody really remembered who she was so that was kind of a non-event.

Eventually, though, Mist and the others had eaten all the dumplings and steamed buns and soup they could take, and so they bid their farewells to the owner before heading into the Bright Battle twilight. The team house they'd chosen was close to Blue Haven, just down a few back alleys from the restaurant, on a little strip of a street sandwiched between Everglim and the gourmet quarter. Most of the houses on the street were abandoned and in varying states of disrepair, and their team house wasn't so different—while not actually ruined it certainly looked like it could use a little love and attention. It stood on an overgrown section filled with tangles of high grass and hostile weeds and a garden area filled with extremely dubious herbs, the paved path to the front door obscured by wild growth. The house itself was wood and stone of a style that was almost completely unfamiliar. Not the elegantly practical houses favoured in Blue Fields, not the tall thin fanciful constructions of Nimbus, certainly not the brooding gothic structures of Auldvyne, and it was just about as far as you could get from the whimsically curving homes found in The Forest.

What it was, was this; a house. Two storeys tall, with windows and a front door and a back door and a roof and presumably a room or two. In the dim glow of twilight, lit mostly by street lamps, it appeared to be a brown sort of colour, or maybe off-white, or maybe just 'house-coloured'. Although the first impression upon viewing would probably be 'shabby' or 'run-down' or even 'bleh', all the windows were intact and nothing was actually broken and it appeared to be structurally sound.

Inside, on the other hand...

"Dear hope, truth and goodness, what an absolute shambles—and what is this, ergh, it's all over my hand—zombie, come here and proffer your rags—"

"Praetorian!" Mist hurried to keep Amanda from going to him. "Don't give her that kind of order!"

"Well what else am I supposed to do, just go around with a goopy hand?"

"Wipe it on your own clothes!"

"This is a heirloom coat! I can't use it to wipe! Amanda's 'clothing', on the other hand—"

"Ugh, just stop talking, please! We were having a fun evening, don't ruin it!"

"Well I'm sorry but it's difficult to stay positive in the face of such overwhelming untidiness, and when everything appears to be covered in a thin but hideous layer of slime it just crushes what little spirit remains."

"Slime," Amanda murmured, staring at a broken, goo-covered chair. The inside of the house was lit by cheap light crystals, their glow stark and pale, draining everything of its colour.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

"Amanda? I think the kitchen might be over here, can you help us move these tables out of the way?"

With some effort, Amanda forced her head up. Mist and Praetorian were on the other side of the house's main room—although crowded with broken furniture and other clutter the basic shape of the interior was clear; a large central room with doors in every wall, stairs leading up to a balcony around the second level, off of which were more rooms. The ceiling was mostly glass, so filthy that it could barely be seen through.

"Amanda?"

"Um. I just—"

Amanda was interrupted by a loud crashing from nearby, perhaps the sound of a pile of broken furniture collapsing. This was followed by another noise, softer and harder to place.

"H-hello?" Mist called, eyes wide. She took a step towards the room the crashing had come from—the door was hanging off its hinges, the interior unlit. "Um, is someone there?"

"Amanda, go and see if they're dangerous," Praetorian urged, before Mist hmmphed at him. "That is, if you'd like to."

"This is our team house," Amanda said, speaking slowly. "Can someone not on our team even enter it?"

This question was met with silence—and then a soft, slithery sound from the room, and then something emerged. Mist let out a squeak and Praetorian took a step back, and Amanda stared as the something spoke:

"Hello?"

Its voice was soft and squishy and so was its body, small and bulbous and with odd extrusions. It resembled a melting candle more than anything, glistening in the pale light. Mist squeaked again as it moved towards her, stepped back before it spoke again:

"Mist? Shining feather?"

"...slime?"

"I woke up here," the slime said, appearing to look around—it didn't have much of a face but there was something of a mouth, opening and closing out of time with its words. "My migration was finished and I wanted to be helpful ... but I'm not strong."

Mist stared at the slime as realisation dawned.

"You were tidying?"

"Some of these burrows are blocked," the slime said, gesturing with gooey tendrils that sprouted from its body. "It's better if passages are clear. That's right?"

"I ... yes, it is—thank you, that was ... nice?"

"Nice?" Praetorian said. "All it has accomplished is to coat our dwelling in viscous ooze! Listen, slime, from now on you do nothing unless ordered to. Understand?"

"Praetorian! Don't talk to it like that! Amanda, say something!"

Amanda looked at Mist, then at the slime, then back at Mist.

"...I can't think of anything."

"Was I bad?" the slime asked.

"No!" Mist said.

"Yes!" said Praetorian. "Perhaps your intentions were good but the fact is that you're a slime and as such have very little function. Ah, if you must commit to a task why not start outside? Go absorb some weeds, that should keep you occupied for a while."

The slime gave a sort of excited squish and squeezed itself into a teardrop shape, sliding towards the back door with surprising speed—

"Wait," Mist said. "Don't just—don't just listen to what Praetorian says, you should decide for yourself!"

"Decide?" Praetorian said. "It's a slime! It's a monster! It doesn't make decisions, it takes orders!"

"But—"

"Look here—slime, what would make you the most joyful bit of ooze in the world?"

The slime bobbed a little. "Making Mist happy."

"You see? It exists to serve. We captured it and thus we command it; that is its purpose in life. To obey."

"But that's horrible!"

"Nonsense, it's the natural order of things. Slime, you're happy, aren't you?"

"Is Mist happy?"

"Of course she is! She's happy if you're happy. See how that works?"

At this the slime quivered in place, perhaps silently considering the logic of Praetorian's words.

"You better not have broken it, Darkcede," Amanda muttered.

"Slime?" Mist said. "Are you okay?"

"...do you want me to absorb weeds?"

"Um. I guess that would be helpful ... we have to tidy this place up and the garden is a mess ... would that be okay? Can you look after the garden?"

The slime bobbed up and down in a kind of nod then made for the door, extending thin tendrils to catch hold of it and pull it open before slipping through and disappearing outside.

"There, all settled, hurray. Have we all had enough of this place? I'm suddenly feeling overly weary. We can all meet up here tomorrow—Mist, perhaps one last message to Nala, I'm sure she's getting them even if she doesn't respond."

"Don't boss the slime around."

Praetorian blinked at Mist. The valkyrie stood firm, spear planted firmly beside her, her eyes stern behind square glasses.

"I don't like it when you boss people around," she said. "Not Amanda and not the slime. So ... so stop it, okay? Just ask instead of telling people what to do."

"The slime is hardly a person—"

"It doesn't matter! Be polite! Everyone else in this place is so rude—well not James or Summer and even Arbie is nice but you know what I mean, it's not difficult to be nice so just DO it! Um. Please."

Praetorian sighed and spread his arms. "If it makes for greater concordance among our ranks then so be it, I shall try. May we leave now? I'm sure we've all had enough of this wretched place."

"I, um ... I'll stay here tonight. I don't want to leave the slime alone."

"Ah? Well then. I suppose we'll see you tomorrow, if only to begin the tremendous task of making this shambles habitable. Amanda?"

"Uh, yeah. See you, Mist. Tomorrow, I guess. Goodnight."

"Goodnight! See you tomorrow! Um, it'll be a big day!"

Mist waved until Amanda and Praetorian were out of sight, and then she was alone in the big cluttered house. The combination of emptiness and untidiness made for an overwhelmingly lonely atmosphere, so Mist went outside to check on the slime. She found it in the back garden, slithering over an old dry fountain—there had once been a statue on top but now all that remained was a single foot. Mist watched the slime explore for a while, then sat down against the outside of the house, her spear resting across her lap. After a minute or so the slime finished with the fountain and moved on to the rest of the garden, rustling through the high wild grass with apparent delight. As Mist watched she felt all the efforts of the day come back to her in a delicate rush, and without thinking she closed her eyes—

Then opened them. She couldn't see the slime, but there was a noise, oddly unsettling but somehow familiar, a kind of ... shambling...

"Amanda?"

Mist was standing now, spear clutched tight, staring into the darkness.

"Amanda? Is that you? Did you get separated from Praetorian? Is that why you're not talking?"

There was a sharp gust of wind and the high grass rustled, and from the night came a rattling groan. It didn't sound much like Amanda.

"Meeee..."

Mist let out a small yelp, then another as she backed into the side of the house. She could see it now, a dim outline of a ragged, shuffling figure, coming towards her step by slow step.

"Oh! Hello! Someone new!"

"Slime!"

The zombie stopped. It turned its head—his head, Mist saw—to look at the blue slime, which had appeared at the edge of the wild grass. The slime quivered beneath the dead gaze, its surface glistening darkly.

"Meeeessss..."

Mist swallowed. "Um. Um, h-hello?"

The zombie twitched his head around to look at Mist, then stumbled towards her, arm outstretched.

"Meeeessssaaaage..."

"Oh? Oh, for me? Um ... thank you?"

Mist gingerly took the little card from the zombie's hand. He stared at her, then jerked around and lurched away.

"What is it?" the slime asked. Mist was peering at the card. There was writing on it, elegantly gothic, difficult to make out in the dim light but—

"Oh," Mist murmured. "Oh ... no."

"Is it bad?"

Mist looked at the slime, then back at the card.

"It's from the vampires," she said. "It's an invitation."