“Sheeva! We need help!” A voice called from behind the door.

Sheeva and Tazaro looked at the door, then glanced at one another. Bidding Tazaro to wait further inside, she strode to the door and braced it, holding a knife in hand to intimidate, if need be.

She peered through the window in the door to see who was making such a ruckus. Surprised, she threw open the door and looked down at the little girl standing there, who was panting heavily.

“Cecilia? What are you–

–Josef had me follow you so I could come to get you if they needed me to!”

Hearing this, Sheeva frowned, disappointed, though still wary, considering the attempt at a scare from the cellar. Maybe, this was a twisted joke the little girl was trying to pull…though being the dead of night, she doubted so.

“What’s going on?” She asked. Cecilia was still huffing, and Sheeva guessed that she had run all the way from Dekkir Street–practically, a mile-and-a-half stretch. With watchful eyes, she scoured the front yard and the street beyond for any other signs of trouble or any hunkering figures trying to hide in the darkness.

“Sheeva, he has Josef!”

Sheeva blinked and looked back down at the child.

“Who has Josef?”

“Some tall…ugly man!”

“Tall, ugly man?” Sheeva repeated, stomach dropping into the floor as she realized who Cecilia might be referring to.

At this, Sheeva hustled the child inside, turning to immediately lock the door behind her. She pulled Cecilia by the hand into the living room, hurrying toward her bag and sword, pausing to wipe the dust away that caked her hand and seeped between the webbing of her fingers.

“What’s going on?” Tazaro asked, worried.

“I’m not sure. Josef and the others are in trouble. I think it’s Llyud. I, I gotta go,” She insisted, trying not to ruminate on the shaky, unevenness in her voice. Sheeva fished the medical kit out of her bag and tied it around her shoulders.

The hallway light flicked on and Sheeva stopped as Mildred approached from the hallway, hand along the wall for guidance.

“What’s happening? What’s going on?” She asked.

“There are some children I’ve been trying to take care of. Llyud’s there; I must go,” Sheeva explained shortly, closing her backpack and standing to double-check her gear.

“I want to go with you!” Cecilia begged.

“No. No, you should stay away,” Sheeva dismissed immediately, then looked at Mildred and Tazaro.

“Can I leave her here? I don’t want anything to happen to her; it’s not right,” Sheeva asked. Mildred nodded, and waved the child over to her with a hand, seeming a little startled when met with the brush of Cecilia’s bushy blonde hair.

As she patted the child’s head, a worried expression spread on Mildred’s face before she forced a smile, stooped, and held the child closer to her in a tight hug, whispering something into the child’s ear. When Cecilia giggled, Sheeva assumed Mildred had said something funny to distract the frightened child.

Sheeva hesitated briefly, then offered them an apologetic look. She couldn’t look either of them in the eye, guilty for possibly putting them in danger.

“Forgive me for drawing you into this mess,” Sheeva asked, heading for the front door.

“W-Wait, maybe I should go–Tazaro offered, but Sheeva cut him off.

–No,” She interrupted. “No,” She said again, more insistently.

“I don’t want to take any chances. Just stay here, Tazaro,” She continued on her charge.

“Take him with you!” Mildred ordered. Sheeva halted halfway down the hallway to the door.

“There’s no time to argue–

–Sheeva Jules, you take him with you right now!” Mildred interrupted, not giving Sheeva a choice in the matter.

“He can help you make sure the others are safe.” She ordered again, determined. Sheeva figured Mildred was probably right to have her consider the extra help–better to have everyone in a guarded, secure place rather than scrambling around like mice in a maze.

“Fine,” Sheeva relented, striding back to her bag.

“Carry this, and follow me,” She ordered as she raised her bag and shoved it into Tazaro's hands. “If I give you an order, you follow it,” She added, then turned and rushed toward the door.

Tazaro wasn’t built for running, but with the adrenaline coursing through his veins, he found himself able to keep up on her heels a little better than he had initially thought. They raced down towards the main street, down towards the center of town, across the Southgate Plaza, and into the slums. After a couple of turns, Sheeva skidded to a stop in front of the Abandoned House on Dekkir Street.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, the porch sagging on one side and the foundation with a slight lean towards the side, seemingly held up by the tall building next to it.

Sheeva tore Abraxas from his scabbard and rushed in, throwing the door open with such force, the handle bashed a hole in the wall and stuck open. Josef and the others jumped and turned, and as Nook shuffled the others behind him and retrieved a knife that Sheeva had given him, he held it out, a fierce glare on his face.

"What are you doing, scaring us like that?" Nook barked, calming as he realized who had just barged in so suddenly. "I could have stabbed you!"

Sheeva panted for air while she stared in confusion, legs shaking and trembling from nearly sprinting the whole way here.

“Where is he? Where’s Llyud?” She asked, panting as she looked around. Bidding them to stay in the living room, she moved to the hallway to examine the stairs. She crept up them as quietly as she could, peering at the floors before entering, not keen on walking into another trap.

But, as she found every room to be empty, she became more and more confused. Nothing was out of place, and as she even peered into the cellar, there was no one there, either.

She walked back to the living room and returned her weapons to its sheath.

"I'm-I'm sorry. It seems you are safe.” She sighed, relief welling in her chest.

“But, Cecilia said that you were-that you were in trouble–that Llyud was here,” She explained.

As Tazaro stepped in through the doorway, Sheeva turned, feeling the buzz in her arm. She blinked at it slowly, understanding that the warding spell hadn't somehow faltered since Tazaro's unauthorized presence buzzed in her brain. As the buzz turned to an incessant ringing in her ears, she hissed from the almost instant ache.

“Get out,” She demanded.

“Wha-why? I’m here to–

–you’re triggering my alarm! Get–Realizing that the alarm hadn’t triggered, Sheeva looked at the sigil on her arm, then stumbled to the old, tattered painting in disorientated balter. She yanked the painting from the wall, revealing the corresponding sigil carved behind it.

It was still fully intact, though the dried blood had long turned an ugly shade of brown.

“What? But, I–wait, no. No, it would have told me.” She babbled, thoughts interrupted by the bzzt, bzzt, bzzt! Needing silence to think beyond the buzzing in her head, she waved Tazaro out of the room.

“Tazaro, please, get out.” She asked again, holding her head in dizziness as the noise turned into a whistle. “It won’t stop until you’re outside,” she groaned, doubling over as the noise made her want to vomit.

Tazaro immediately did as she asked as she saw how afflicted she became.

“Josef,” She called, trying to focus on rampant thoughts as the noise in her ears died down. “Cecilia told me Llyud was here.” She stated, continuing to look around, mildly pacing as she searched the utility closet, back bedroom, and the pantry connected to the kitchen. Maybe she had missed something. "Where is he?"

Josef squinted at her with a judgmental, raised eyebrow on his face.

“Llyud? There hasn’t been anyone. Hasn’t been anyone here besides you, earlier this morning.”

Sheeva stopped at the bottom of the steps to the second floor, hand on the balcony rail. Holding there, she stared at Josef for a moment, then glanced at her arm again. If there had been intruders inside the veil, the alarm hadn't been triggered at all. Maybe, she’d just missed it in all the panic of being attacked by Llyud earlier in the night, or...ridiculously distracted by Tazaro, like a smitten schoolgirl.

Truly, there had been no time for rest and no time to think.

She shook her head at the latter, refusing to believe she was so distracted by simply being near the handsome, gentle, and generous man. Besides, with a potentially noisy and volatile reaction like that, how could she possibly miss such a thing?

"I, I…" She stammered, confused. "I need some air," she muttered, staggering toward the front door.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry I didn't listen before; I didn't understand what was happening," Tazaro apologized as soon as she stepped outside.

Sheeva blinked at him, still trying to process.

"Nor did I. Apparently, Llyud was never here, which I have no reason to not believe, considering they all have the same story and the alarm triggering while you were in the house,” She explained, then looked at the sigils in her arm again. She poked at the rose in curious thought.

“Now that I think of it, Cecilia is still there, and my alarm hasn’t begun to sound. I…I don’t understand why not since I just replenished all of them this week. I even boosted it earlier–you were there. It hasn’t gone off, even after I pulled her inside.”

Tazaro crossed his arms and looked at the house. Though he was unsure of how the spell worked, he wondered why–since she had apparently set up the same type of spell on his mother’s house–it wasn't alarming her so harshly at the presence of the young girl that she had ushered in.

“Hey, Sheeva? Is it possible for someone to not trigger the alarm if you let them inside? Like, some kind of, uh, vampire?” Tazaro suggested. "Or do you think it's got something to do with how far away you might be?" He asked.

"How far away? No, that doesn't seem to be an issue. But, as for inviting someone in, I don’t know–

–Oh, ‘Sheeva?’ That’s your name, miss?” Sophia asked.

Sheeva looked, then sighed in irritation. All her efforts were in vain.

"Ah, damn it, you weren't supposed to know my–she cursed, then stopped. "You weren't supposed to know my name."

She wheeled around to look at Sophia, baffled.

“You weren't–you didn't…” She stuttered, feeling a full-body chill strike her as her stomach tied itself in knots. “No, you didn’t know.”

“And,” She shook her head in disbelief. “You couldn't have known–I never told you. So, how-how did Cecilia know? I never gave her my name, either."

She turned to Tazaro, desperate and somewhat uncertain if she was simply imagining things. "Wait, you were there. She did call me by name, didn't she?"

Tazaro's eyes squinted in thought before the trickle of worry oozed in.

"Yes. Yes, she did. I'm certain of it," he affirmed. “Twice, actually.”

Realizing but reluctant to believe she’d been tricked, Sheeva’s heart began to race. She whipped back around to find Josef, rushed for him, grasped his shoulders, and shook him.

“Josef, tell me: Did you have Cecilia tailing me? Anywhere?”

“What? No!” He barked. “After we caught her inside the house, we haven’t seen her since!”

Sheeva’s stomach tightened in worry even more.

“And, that’s the truth?”

“Yes!” He cried, grabbing at her wrists to get her to let him go. “Let me go; you’re hurting me, miss!”

Sheeva gasped and immediately let go, apologizing as she realized how hard a hold of him she had: her knuckles ached and had turned white from her grasp. She wrung her hands to soothe them, thinking; wondering; fearing…

Maybe, Llyud was lying in wait and that she had accidentally sent all of them into a trap.

"All of you, get inside–now!" She urged the children, trying to sweep them in through the doorway.

"Tazaro, find a place to hide, and–she stopped and let out a yelp of pain as a searing burn blazed on her arm. She struggled to pull back the sleeve, then screeched again from another pain.

"What's happened?" Tazaro asked, stepping towards her and grabbing at her wrist so that he could look. He helped pull the sleeve away, finding some of the fabric had fused with her skin, leaving behind a bloody wound with its tear from her skin. The red sigil had ignited, branding itself into the skin, emitting the stench of burning flesh into the air.

“The rose sigil–it's–it's on fire!" He exclaimed in shock.

"The rose?" Sheeva cried, hoping she had misheard him.

She looked, too, and saw the rose sigil glimmering bright yellow and orange.

"No, Mildred!” Sheeva hissed, jerking her hand free from his and charging down the street.

“Stay here, Tazaro!” She demanded, baring her wings. With several mighty flaps, she took to the air and soared up above the rooftops, beelining for Mildred’s home.

Tazaro looked back at the kids that had shuffled out of the door, amazed looks on their faces.

“You guys stay here! And, get back inside!” He ordered, ignoring Sheeva’s order and running toward his mother's house.

Locating a small pillar of smoke and the light of fire, Sheeva dove for the spot in the same block as the house, tucking her wings back to gather speed as she zipped through the now familiar streets in a mach-five glide. Nearing the garden in the front lawn, she tilted her wings to slow her descent, then flapped her wings hard, and as her momentum nearly stopped, she let her legs fly out in front of her as she dropped to the ground, stumbling a few steps forward. A building plume of flames raged from inside, and boldly, Sheeva ran through the front door, hoping Mildred would still be alive and able to get out. Reaching the living room, she froze as she saw Llyud standing there with Mildred grappled in his hold and a knife at her throat.

“Llyud, let her go!” Sheeva barked, raising her arm as a wave of flames threatened to lick her face. He only cackled at her and brandished the knife, egging her to take him on. Sheeva didn’t dare to move as Llyud used Mildred as a shield.

“How dare you, Llyud, you coward! Let her go and take me instead!” Sheeva ordered.

"Oh, but Sheeva, I only wanted to play!" Llyud called. "How about a nice game of capture the flag? Aha!" He cackled.

“I’M TIRED OF THIS GAME! FUCKING FIGHT ME!” Sheeva bellowed so hard her vocal chords hurt.

He screamed as Mildred caught his arm in her mouth and bit down hard. Angered, he smacked the knife’s pommel stone against Mildred’s temple as she struggled against him, then dropped her carelessly to the floor. Enraged, Sheeva rushed him, drawing Abraxas and attempting to run him through. Llyud parried, countered, and grabbed her collar to effortlessly throw her over his shoulder and onto the piano bench.

Caught by surprise at his speed, Sheeva barely had time to redirect a passive shield to protect her head.

He kicked Sheeva while she was down, breaking the thin layered shield around her torso. He bent over, grabbed the collar of her shirt, lifted her up, then socked her on her cheek. She blocked his next punch and kicked him, aiming for his groin. He caught her foot before it could make contact, and Sheeva grabbed a piece of wood from the shattered bench. Bench leg grasped firmly in hand, she thwacked it hard against Llyud's shin, causing him to cry out in pain as the nails driven through to hold the piece to the seat of the chair stabbed him in the calf. With his other foot, he stepped on and pinned her arm down, dropped to a knee, and slapped his hand over her face to look her in the eye.

Fiercely, she bit his palm, gagging as blood trickled into her mouth, and he barked out a swear and shocked her.

The first shock was mild, compared to what he threw at her last time, and as it only made her scream and gave her fingers and toes that pins and needles sensation, she urged her leg to attempt a kick.

The second electroshock was harsher, aching her face, guts, and limbs as her body tensed and breathing seized. She couldn't even properly cough out the blood that trickled into her throat, and she choked on it as she tried not to swallow the metallic stuff.

Satisfied that she was immobilized, Llyud stood and hurried over to Mildred, who'd curled up on the floor, unwilling to run or crawl into the fire.

Unable to move, Sheeva watched through tunnel vision in despair as Llyud knelt down to hoist Mildred around his shoulders, bared a pair of wings, cast a fireball that shattered a hole in the wall, and leaped through to disappear.

As the orange flame climbed up the remaining walls to turn them black with growing rage, she struggled to move even more, fearing she would burn to death in a tragic end. Desperate, she willed her dead limbs to move and, barely aware of the flex of her muscles, managed to flop onto her stomach, then groaned in pain as she found herself laying, full-weight, on a support beam that had fallen in from the shattered wall.

“Mom? Sheeva?” Tazaro’s voice called out.

Sheeva looked up to the shadow of Tazaro's tall frame from the floor, found some strength, and called out to him.

He hurried to her and attempted to help her up.

"She's–cough–gone. Llyud has her," she managed.

Determined, Sheeva shakily pushed herself up.

“I told you–sss, Vilg!” She hissed out as her hand slipped and cut itself on a shard of glass. “–to stay away!” She groaned.

“Yeah? And where– He grunted as he helped up, venting his frustration with the rough pull to her feet, –would you be then?” supporting her as he turned to the front door from where he came. As the frame caved in and spewed hot ash and embers their way, they could no longer escape that way.

He turned them towards the gaping hole in the side of the house, but as that crumbled, too, he barked in surprise and shuffled back, grunting as he slammed into the wall.

Their only option was the back door.

Hoping it wasn't blocked, he looked over his shoulder and around the corner to the hallway. With fewer flames melting the paint off the walls and a relatively clear path, Tazaro hustled them down the way, holding tight to Sheeva's arm wrapped around his chest and her waist snug against his hip.

Bashing themselves through the door, they stumbled out into the backyard, and Tazaro was amazed that they hadn’t fallen over and barreled into the patio. Sheeva looked to the night sky, dazed and dizzied.

“He has…your mother. He can fly. I didn’t know he…he could fly!” She panted, then babbled, trying to see if she could tell what direction he’d gone in. As she could barely hold her eyes open in exhaustion, she dropped her head and shut her eyes, relenting. To struggle more was a moot point. "We gotta go. Gotta follow," She ranted.

“Follow where?” Tazaro asked for clarification as he tried to figure out where to go, coming up on the dead end of the wooden fence. He moved them closer to the back fence to escape the rising heat that burned his backside. As the creak of wood groaned and the shattering of glass caught his attention, Tazaro stopped, then turned to stare in shock as the roaring flames engulfed his childhood house.

He blinked once as a loud pop sounded, likely the lamp-line oil reservoir in the utility room that illuminated the whole place. Eventually, the building collapsed in a pile of burning rubble, causing a tiny, dissociated "oh!" Of surprise to fall from his mouth.

"Tazaro, we have to leave," Sheeva called, trying to pull his shirt toward the loose plank they had snuck in from but an hour or so earlier. “It’s too dangerous to stay,” She urged.

Stunned, he didn't move, still staring at the wreckage. All the hard work they had put in, gone. The gas-lit lamp system he had installed himself as an upgrade? Gone. The garden his mother worked so hard on? Gone. The only remaining reminder of his biological father and deceased sister? Gone.

"Tazaro, please, we have to go. Now!" She repeated, shaking him gently.

He snapped to with a small, estranged noise, then turned to look at her.

"We have to get out of here," she stressed. Numbly nodding his response, his body seemed remotely run by a stranger, and as they shuffled through the loose plank in the fence, they stumbled out into the alleyway behind his house.

In an extremely awkward stumbling gait, they kept to the alleyways, managing to get a few blocks away before they finally stopped for air and rest as their legs screamed at them. When Sheeva went to sit on an overturned wine crate, she grasped onto Tazaro's shirt and held tight as she tripped over her feet. He helped set her down on the crate, only now noticing the new splotches of blood on her person.

"You're hurt. There's blood on your mouth, and on your hand," he stated, slinging the bag over his shoulders and onto the ground in front of him. Searching for her medical kit, he fished through it for the salve and bandages they had gifted her.

With a disgusted whimper as she recalled the blood trickling down her throat, Sheeva grabbed her water pouch, pulled out the cork that stopped it with her teeth, threw back her head, and swished some water around to rinse the foul, metallic blood. She turned her head and spit it out, gagging.

“Did you bite your t–

–It’s not my blood.” She interrupted, gagging again with horror. Tazaro grimaced and held her hair back as she vomited, turning his head away out of respect.

Too exhausted to vomit anymore, she realized her hand stung. She poured water on her bloody hand to wash some of it away, blinking sluggishly as she tried to examine the wound. She couldn't see well enough in the darkness.

With a weak cast of her light orb, she rested her head back as her brain swam.

"Can you check to make sure there is no glass? I cut my hand on something,” she whispered weakly.

As the light flickered, dimmed, then brightened in flux, Tazaro searched amid the trickling blood as well as he could. Spotting a small chunk of glass that shimmered from the light hovering above his head, he carefully picked it out with his fingers, wincing as she grunted from the pain and swore. He muttered his apology, dressed her wound, then lifted the arm’s sleeve that bore its sigils. The red one had stopped bleeding but was puffy and inflamed with dried blood caked on it.

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He took her water pouch and poured, gently cleaned the wound, then dressed it as well.

Once done, he sat in a daze, numb.

"I can't believe it," she growled, causing Tazaro to look up.

"Can't believe what?" Tazaro asked, somewhat worried.

“Damn it all, he fucking got me! He had to have been watching me! He had to have been!” She babbled, an enraged look on her face. “I was so fucking careful!” She hissed, clenching her fists and doubling over to curl up as she shook with rage, then swore in pain from the wound on her hand as it unclenched. “I changed my appearance, I set wards, I had sentries, and he still slipped past all that!”

Lost, Tazaro looked around himself, then at the light that still shined, though as bright as the sun. Distracted by the thing, he scooped it up in an attempt to dim its brightness, then hissed as it burned, like hovering a hand over a candle flame. Annoyed, he swatted at it like a pesky fly, launching it across the way. He watched as the miniature sun bounced and rolled underneath a dustbin, then died out, presumably from a distance, though he held no clue.

“You should-you should…go home. I’ll chase after them. I’ll get her back. But you…you go home. You’ll be safe there,” Sheeva insisted, shuffling herself onto her feet.

“This time, that skulka dies,” She threatened with such a violent demeanor it frightened Tazaro.

However, as she slowly began to shuffle away, limping, his fright was replaced by concern, doubting her ability to move well enough to even kill a fly.

“Hey, wait!” Tazaro called, pushing himself to his feet. She ignored him and walked on. With an angered snort, Tazaro charged after her and hurried around to stop her, hands on her shoulders to look her in the eye.

“Sheeva, stop for a second and look at me. I know you want to pursue them. I want to, too, but you need to rest for a minute; you can barely stand. And, if we’re gonna chase after them, we need to make sure we’re ready,” He insisted. She sent him that hawk-eyed, stern stare that would have normally shaken him to the core, but, frustrated as he was, it didn’t break his adamance.

“We are not going anywhere. You are going to go home and wait, and I will pursue Llyud.” She insisted, trying to shuffle herself out of his grasp. He held tighter.

“Damnit, listen to me!” He barked, giving her a shake. “You need someone to guide Mom somewhere safe while you’re taking care of that son-of-a-skulka, and you’ve got no other choice but me! Nobody else knows those things about you, right? Magic, and wings, and-and stuff?” He argued.

His shake, his stern glare, and his words were enough to break through to Sheeva’s rational part of her brain, and as she thought on it, she felt he was right. If Llyud had enlisted people to assist him this time, Mildred would still be in danger while Sheeva was busy fighting Llyud, and there really wasn’t anyone else who could help her in the current situation that Sheeva could trust to keep their mouths shut…if her secrets hadn’t already been aired by the supernatural events that just unfolded.

She frowned, accepted his point, and slowly nodded.

“Ok,” She agreed, settling. Her eyes drooped as the exhaustion fully set in. Tazaro shuffled them back to the crate and helped her sit, then collapsed on the ground next to her.

After a while, Slowly, Sheeva peeled herself forward from the wall to rest her elbows on her knees. She closed her eyes and rubbed the sore spot on her cheek, then pressed the area where Llyud had kicked her in the gut. She lifted her shirt to examine it, where an impressive, sickly bruise was beginning to form just above her left hip. She traced a few seals and attempted to heal the deep wound, a green cloud of light sinking into her skin.

Tazaro scowled across the way, struggling to make sense of his thoughts. He couldn’t lie; he was furious.

“What the hell happened? You were careful.” He hissed, trying his best not to blame Sheeva.

“I still do not know. Cecilia–if she even was Cecilia–seems to have gotten past my alarms somehow. The only thing I can surmise is that Llyud disguised himself as Cecilia, hence why she would know my name."

Sheeva paused, frowning. "But, that would be impossible; he could not have shrunk himself somehow. Unless…he actually put the little girl to the task?” She mused. “But, no–I didn’t see anyone else at the house when I first arrived,” she rambled, then felt suddenly guilty.

“I hope I did not accidentally leave the girl to perish in the fire,” She mumbled.

Tazaro shook his head.

“What I don’t understand is how the alarm wasn’t tripped, considering how sick it made you when I was in that other house,” He voiced, crossing his arms.

It had all happened so fast, from the child’s arrival to his mother’s insistence that he go with Sheeva to the understanding of Llyud’s trickery. Tazaro blinked as he recalled the way his mother sounded when she’d given her order. He felt it wasn’t just to make sure the other children were safe. His brow furrowed, and he pressed a hand to his forehead.

“I think Mom knew it was him. That’s why she sent me with you. To keep me safe." He muttered, face wrenching into a scowl. "I knew I should have stayed! Gods be damned!” He hissed, feeling his eyes burn with tears.

“If you had, you’d likely be dead.” Sheeva pointed out miserably. Tazaro looked up with a blurted: "what?" Sheeva avoided looking at him and sat back with a guilty sigh.

“Sheeva…” Tazaro began, fearing her answer. “Do you think my mom’s…” He mumbled, unable to say it and fearing it would be true. The only family he would have left would be Tyler, and he wasn’t certain Tyler could handle losing Mildred–it might be the very thing that drove the man back into the bottle.

“No,” Sheeva answered after some thought.

“Tell me you’re not just saying that to make me feel–

–I’m not,” She insisted, calmly and confidently, rather than quick and defensively. It was enough for Tazaro to believe her.

“Llyud is…a sadist, and for whatever reason, I have been at the receiving end of his torments for a long, long time. As he has done before with Rose, he will not kill her unless it is in front of me, and because of this, I have faith that she is alive,” She stated, reaching for her canteen. She drank from it, thankful for the cool water preventing her from saying more.

It’s not the first time, and if I fail to end him now, it won’t be the last.

“That being said, when we do find them, your objective is to get your mother and get to a safe place. I will handle Llyud,” She declared, offering the canteen to him.

He stared at it instead.

She took no offense, figuring him to still be in shock, and poked around in her bag in search of jerky.

“Use this time to eat and hydrate. You never know when you’ll have the time to take a break in times like these,” She instructed, offering him the canteen once again.

He took both, disinterested, until the scent of the peppered jerky hit his nose, and he began to salivate. The first bite made him realize how hungry he was, and he hastily chewed and devoured the thing.

“Also, here,” She offered, handing him a small, reddish pellet. “An energy pellet. It’ll give you a bit of a boost to keep you from crashing so hard. You’ve…been through a lot, just now,” She pointed out softly. “I’m…I am sorry–

–you can apologize later after we get Mom back,” He said curtly.

In honesty, he’d rather not hear an apology, too upset and worried.

His shortness was surprising, and it hurt to hear, but as Sheeva took a deep breath and sighed, she tried her best to rationalize that he was simply being pragmatic.

“Ok.” She agreed, sitting back once more.

The energy pellet she crushed up and swallowed gave her a slight boost that went toward a second and much better attempt at healing the deep bruise from Llyud’s kick. She grabbed another, popped it in her mouth, crushed it into a paste, and swallowed it with more water, feeling the effects almost immediately with a head-clearing rush.

“We should think of a way to search for your mother, rather than running around blind.” She announced.

“Hmph, thought you’d have a spell for that, too–like ‘track animal,’ or ‘track mark,’ or… ‘track evil, big-nosed bastard,” Tazaro grunted, though low enough that Sheeva thought he might be simply grumbling a grievance if she hadn’t discerned what he had said.

Sheeva looked at him, as his grumbling words gave her an idea. He was still slumped over, head propped on his arm as he participated in a tense, stare-down with the gravel in the alleyway.

“You are indeed related to Mildred, yes?” She asked.

He looked up, surprised at the sudden question.

“Uh, yeah, isn’t it obvious?” He answered sassily. “Why?”

She let the grumpiness slide, though it still showed in the hardness of her eyes and pursed-lip expression.

“No, not at all,” She fired back in sarcasm. “You’ve just given me an idea, that’s all–and if you were adopted, then this wouldn’t work.”

She paused.

“Of course, considering I’ve never done this before, it might not work at all, but we’ll just have to see.”

She set her hand deliberately on the top of his head, closed her eyes, and focused. Figuring out whether or not she could pick up on another person strictly due to bloodline ties would be the first obstacle to face. As she felt a tingling sensation in her sinuses and heard a gentle hum, she let go of a tense breath, finding the tingle calming.

Somehow, she had expected to see a miniature orb of light flashing in her mind’s eye to point her which way to go, but when no such thing happened, she sighed and let her head fall back and opened her eyes to look at the cloudy night sky.

However, when she opened her eyes, she saw strands of silk, like spider webs, floating in the wind and reaching every which way.

“Oh?” She muttered, interested to find that something had happened at all.

“What?” Tazaro asked, holding absolutely still.

“Well, all I see is a mess of, uh, string, but I was really hoping that we could use this to seek for–”

With eerie, phantom movements that made her dizzy, the silken strands gathered, weaving together to form a braided string that disappeared through the wall and into the rest of the world. The apparition flickered, and as she lost concentration, she slouched forward to prop her head on her knees, further drained.

“Well, apparently, that works, though I do not know how far away they are. I suppose we will learn as we chase them.” She summed.

"So, it really is just a case of 'fuck around and find out?" Tazaro asked, a little discouraged and worried for time.

"Honestly?" She asked, finding herself somewhat frustrated. "Yes."

They didn’t say anything for a while, waiting while Sheeva recuperated, healed her wounds, and checked her supplies.

“I think I am well enough to continue. We should go now.” She suggested, finding it much easier to stand now that her head no longer spun. He nodded and grabbed his coat.

When she tried to see which direction they would need to go, Sheeva found that the wisps still disappeared through the wall. Annoyed and rather than having to stop every once in a while, scouting from a high vantage point would yield better results…

…which led to Tazaro watching over his shoulder in nerves as Sheeva boldly picked the lock to the clocktower door.

Once inside, Sheeva looked around, amazed; it seemed to be much bigger on the inside than she had anticipated, though she wasn’t thrilled about having to climb so many flights of stairs. There had to be at least thirty flights, and it took her back to her adolescent years. The few times she had to walk the temple’s grand steps for reprimand always left her highly reluctant to break the rules in the future, though picking fights with Hasch had never seemed to be one of the things she learned not to do.

Unfortunately, there would be no elder frowning in disappointment at the top of these steps.

With a heavy sigh, she headed for the first step, then stopped, hand on the rail and foot in the air in determined march as Tazaro called out to her.

“You can take the steps if you want, but there’s a lift if you’d rather.”

Sheeva stopped, then looked over her shoulder. She turned to fully face him as he pulled open a cage door and stepped into a lift. Sheepish, Sheeva headed for it and stepping past him to step inside. He shut the gate and flipped a switch, briefly noticing Sheeva’s flinch as the lift began to move.

“Nervous? Thought you wouldn’t be afraid of heights since you can fly,” He commented, trying to put his own discomfiture at ease.

“I’m nervous about being trapped in a metal box, not of heights,” She corrected. “If the chain lifting this thing were to-to break and send us crashing to the ground, there’s no escape,” She countered.

“It won’t crash to the ground. There’s safety measures in place,” Tazaro offered as a way to calm her nerves…as well as his own.

What a way to confirm your own fear of heights, Tazaro thought, recalling the way he’d affirmed his suspicion. After a class-trip had him step out onto the rooftop of the church for the god-king, Hyles, and looking down at the sheer drop to the brick street below, Tazaro had gotten cold-feet and decided to shift his apprenticeship to woodworking instead of architecture.

As their elevation continued to climb, Tazaro avoided looking out beyond the cage as the large window of the clocktower appeared, allowing those inside to view the townscape below. He fixed his vision on the gears that churned, teeth biting into the grooves of the tracks as they made their ascent.

The lift stopped, causing a jerk that made both of them jump, Sheeva seeming not to notice Tazaro grip the switch handle in nerves. The gate slid open, and while Sheeva seemed in a rush to get out, Tazaro’s movements were stiff, eyes fixed ahead on the central, gigantic gears for the clock’s hour, minute, and second hands, each slowly turning with the necessary speed calculated to keep proper time. The first step out of the shaky lift made him more comfortable as his foot landed on solid, stable flooring, and the second and third steps were rushed, eager to put distance between himself and the giant metal construct.

“Is there a way to get onto the outside of the tower? I was hoping to be able to look without anything obstructing my view,” Sheeva asked, searching for a window to the outside world.

“There’s a door that allows mechanics and cleaners to work on the outside. Here, this way,” Tazaro stated, still feeling stiff and robotic.

He led her towards the door on the other side of the floor. This door wasn’t locked, and as Sheeva stepped out onto the ledge surrounding the base of the clock’s face, Tazaro lingered back. Perhaps, he could stay inside while she did what she needed to, and that he wouldn’t have to worry about teetering on such thin passageways with the wind threatening to blow him over.

But, she can’t search for Mom without me, he reminded himself. Maybe.

“Hey, are you sure you need me out there?” Tazaro called, shivering as a rush of wind blew in from the door.

Silence followed for a few seconds, and as he dared to poke his head out beyond the doorframe, he found her to be focusing with eyes shut.

At least she was giving it an earnest try, rather than telling him to stop “being pathetic.”

“No, it’s not working!” She called back, stepping closer.

“Vilg sa,” Tazaro swore with a sharp exhale of breath as he felt his stomach drop and his face drain of heat.

He tried not to look out too far past his own feet as he shuffled nervously onto the planks, supported only by shaky rails slipped into circlets fastened by screws.

“Are you alright?” Sheeva asked, though he picked up on the impatience in her voice beyond the loud heartbeat in his head.

Though his throat tickled with the urge to insist that he was “fine,” no words followed, save for a stifled groan.

WHY do the damn legdes have to be so narrow? He thought, frozen in fear in the doorway. You so much as trip, and you’re a dead man!

“Tazaro?” She called to him.

He didn’t respond, still trying to will his feet to move. He managed another strained, small step, and his hand gripped the cold rail, hard. The amount of give in the rail did nothing to bolster his confidence in the ledge’s foundation.

“Hey, wait a second,” Sheeva spoke, stepping close and stopping him with a hand on his chest. With a gentle push, she urged the terrified man back into the building, then gathered a pool of energy into her palm.

The warmth of the building, coupled with the touch of her hand upon his cheek and the rush of warmth that followed caused Tazaro to suck in a breath of fresh air, and as the rigidness of his body finally faltered, he grasped at the support beam at his back that she had apparently pushed him against.

“Sorry–I’m sorry. I was trying to get out there–you need me with you, don’t you?” He babbled, then stopped as her hand caressed his cheek. He blinked, then stared at her, absolutely dumbfounded when she held his face in her hands. Another wave of calm swept through his body with whatever spell she was casting on him, and he could no longer stand.

She followed as he slid down the post and sat on the floor, an apologetic and understanding expression on her face.

“You’re afraid of heights, aren’t you.” She pointed out. “My apologies. I didn’t know,” She said softly.

Rather than soft and smooth, her hands were calloused in a pattern Tazaro assumed would match the frequent grasp of a sword or knife, and as his heart returned to pounding in his chest from its sudden arrhythmic beat, he felt his cheeks heat.

“It is alright to be afraid.” She assured.

Ashamed, Tazaro broke eye-contact.

“Well, not right now, it isn’t,” He grumbled.

Sheeva “tsked,” trying to think of a way to encourage him onto the ledge without fear.

“You know, the clouds have broken, and the moons are out. I find it helps to look out at them, rather than at the–She paused, not wanting to remind him of anything related to the ground. “Uh, at the horizon.”

“Besides that…” Sheeva sighed, reluctant to bring up the fact. “You are right. I do need you out there with me, otherwise I can’t make that spell work in the way we need it to,” she admitted. “And there’s little time to think for anything else.”

Slowly, Tazaro nodded.

“Okay,” He agreed, getting to his feet. Sheeva assisted, both hands in his while she encouraged him back towards the door.

Nearing it, he felt less anxious than he had before, and wondered what kind of spell it was that she had cast on him. Whatever the case, it worked really well in keeping his body warm and his thoughts light and fuzzy.

The intense humidity on his face was the first thing he noticed, and when he went to look around, Sheeva stopped him with a light tap of a curled finger beneath his chin, directing him to look up to the night sky.

“Don’t look around. Look up,” Sheeva reminded him, slowly stepping back to urge him out of the doorway.

Silka, the bright, blue planet in place of the gem atop Impi’s head that occasionally formed the glowing stone imbedded in the spearhead of the Abraxas constellation held in its tiny, devil hand was glimmering brightly tonight, and Tazaro fixed on it as he allowed Sheeva to lead him further onto the ledge.

Sheeva closed her eyes for a moment as she paused, then opened them once the same hum and tingling in her nose formed. The strands were thinner now, and as they weaved together, they only formed a thread, floating in the wind as they disappeared into the trees to the west, though an even thinner strand veered northwest.

“It seems I can determine how far away someone is with this. Fascinating.” She muttered.

Tazaro dropped his head, not realizing she had already been trying to track his mother down.

“There are two paths; one to the forest to the east, and one floating northwest, though…I assume that might be your father.”

“Hm,” was Tazaro’s flat response.

“Something wrong?” Sheeva asked, wondering if the strands would lead to someone regardless of whether or not they were alive. “Is he dead?”

Tazaro’s face scrunched even more as he scowled.

“Tazaro, I need to know. Please. I…” She paused, not wanting to unnecessarily worry him. Perhaps, the spell only worked on people that were still alive, though she had no way of knowing. “I would not ask if it wasn’t important.”

Tazaro relented with a heavy sigh.

“Not that I know of, but he sure seemed alive when he left twenty years ago.”

Sheeva held her tongue. Whatever lie beneath that seemed pretty dreary, but she had a feeling it was related to the death of his sister and Mildred and Luka’s first-born.

Eager to distract him from the dreary reminder, Sheeva gave his hand–that she apparently, still held–a gentle squeeze and smiled.

“Thank you. You’re doing well out here. I don’t think I would have gotten this far if it weren’t for–

She stopped, and they both turned to look as the whir of the lift sounded out. They hurried inside just in time to see the top of it disappear beneath the floor they were on.

Sheeva rushed to the edge of the floor and leaned over the rail, peering down to the first level.

A group of guards were heading up the stairs, already swarming up the seventh flight of stairs. They had six more flights to climb until they reached the top.

“Ah, crap!” Sheeva grunted, pushing herself off the rail in hustle as she made her way back to Tazaro.

“We’re stuck. There’s guards coming up the stairs, and without the lift, we can’t–

–We’re stuck?” Tazaro blurted, seriously worried for what the future lie in store.

Throwing cluckatrice through people’s windows was a laughable thing, and he, Vincent, and Micah were lucky that they hadn’t been given more community service time than they had been.

Breaking and entering into the clock tower was another thing, and he doubted their ability to talk their ways out of it–even if Tyler happened to be a part of the crew.

If she had somehow been tied to the death of the man she’d accidentally killed, Sheeva didn’t think she would be able to talk her way out of this one–not to mention, she’d finally found her target, and wasn’t about to spend time wasting away in a cell when she could be taking him down.

As the sounds of clinking swords came closer, Sheeva rushed to Tazaro and urged him out of the door to the shoddy rail. Hopefully, there would be some sort of ladder to a previous floor that they could scurry down to give the guards the slip, but as they ran, full circle around the perimeter, there were no ladders to be found.

“Shit!” She hissed, fueled by growing panic as it began to set in. As the noise grew nearer, they backed away from the door and into the corner of the ledge.

Tazaro felt the rails at his backside and foolishly turned to look, able to see the vast plaza. The closed stands looked like specks amid the glowing streetlamps. He groaned as the pit of nerves welled in his stomach and his mouth soured. His free hand found the sleeve of her shirt, and he grabbed it, eyes drooping closed as the chill of the rail registered beneath his clothes, further driving the ice through his veins.

“You should go–you can fly out of here, right?” He muttered, feeling the heat radiate from her head as he felt his own drop to rest its forehead against the back of her skull. The raspberry vanilla scent of her shampoo wafted into his nose and soothed him a little bit.

Hmph. Noble, indeed! He thought, trying to shuffle her behind him as the noise of the guards came closer. They were at least climbing onto the last floor by now.

Both of them froze as the group of guards shuffled out of the building.

“Stop, both of you! You’re under arrest for breaking and entering!”

Sheeva pressed her knuckle into his shoulder blade in an attempt to signal what she was planning to do.

“Tazaro, turn around and face me. We have no choice but to fly,” She whispered.

“What?” He barked, turning his head so quickly it spun. She grabbed his jacket, turned him to face her, and jerked him close.

“Hold on to me as tight as you can,” She insisted while wrapping her arms around his torso.

“Hey, I said stop!” The guard repeated, charging towards them, thundering footsteps shaking the unstable ledge.

“Oslepit!” Sheeva commanded, and Tazaro heard the confused screams of the guards as they cried out about being suddenly blind.

In the next second, Sheeva fell over the ledge. Tazaro went tumbling over with a deep-chested scream stuck in his throat as he felt gravity tug and jerk at his guts. He clung to her as tightly as he could, managing to wrap his legs and lock them around her waist in terror. He squeezed his eyes shut as the ground came hurtling towards them, then tensed as he felt the sudden jerk and stop at a mighty flap of her wings.

If his limbs had not been locked firmly around her torso, he would have slipped and turned to pudding on the ground.

They spiraled up into the sky above the buildings and past the clock tower as she curved around it to veer west. Thinking the worst of it was over, Tazaro opened his eyes to look. Seeing the town below as though he were standing above a miniature recreation of the city made his eyes almost pop out of his skull, but as it registered how high up they had to be to see a clear layout of the streets, the twelve shrines, and their connecting plazas, his mouth soured and he squeezed his eyes shut again.

His hands hurt with how tightly he clung to her, and he was sure he heard the whistle of an arrow as it shot past his ear. He felt a burning sensation rip through his body from the back of his head as she cast some sort of spell on him, and as he felt the dulled brunt of the impact from something tiny, metal, and cold in the small of his back, Tazaro slowly realized an arrow would have pierced him through if she hadn’t.

A gust of wind from beneath them brought the scent of dirt and cornfields, and as he felt the gut-wrenching pull of gravity as it carried them higher into the sky, he cringed from the ascent and shivered from the chilly air.

When the thundering sound of blood coursing to his ears subsided, he heard the flapping of wings, and as he felt a strange pull and shift of the rushing wind, he felt himself relax a little. They slowed their escape, and when her arms cradled his torso and held it against her, it helped tether his shocked brain.

Tazaro peered open an eye to look, then the other snapped open. The two feathery wings moved in sync, cutting through the air effortlessly as they craned up and stretched out, then billowed out like a sail in the wind as they caught air and propelled them along.

“Holy shit.” He gasped, mesmerized as he watched them move gracefully. As his sight fixed on the night sky above them, a wave of serenity flooded him from head to toe. The stars were so close, he imagined he could reach out and touch them if he desired to.

“You were right; seeing the night sky like this is really something!”

Curious, he reached out his hand, amazed with how the back of his hand appeared against the sea of bright, twinkling clusters. His palm cooled rapidly, the sweat drying off in the wind. He returned his arm back around the middle of Sheeva’s back and took in the closeness of the moons. He swore he could see the jagged surface of Celeste beneath the shadow Kursu cast upon it.

“Is this-is this what flying is-is like? It’s, it’s incredible.” He asked, attempting to look around even more. She briskly brought her hand to the side of his face and forced him to stare back at the cosmic span above them.

“No, don’t. Look up.” She ordered shortly, a tenderness to her voice he hadn’t expected.

He followed her instruction, letting his eyes take in the wondrous sight, a beaming, cheek-to-cheek grin on his face.

His eyes trailed along her wingspan from tip to as much as he could see of the other as they straightened out. The end feathers flickered in the wind, and he smiled, filled with childish curiosity.

“You don’t need to flap them all the time?” He wondered aloud. He felt her shake her head.

“No. This is gliding. Riding the wind. Like birds do.” She answered.

“How else does it work?”

He felt her head turn to look at him but didn’t dare look back, worried he might be tempted to look around and eventually, down, to see just how high up he was.

She explained how she could turn left and right with simple angling of her wings, and he paid close attention to how the respective wing stiffened and tilted itself, shuddering from thrill as he felt the shift of balance and changing of wind while it rustled through his hair.

“You know, for a first-time flyer, you are handling this well.”

“Y-yeah? You think so?” He asked, flattered. The bashful grin spread on his face, but he kept it hidden against her shoulder.

A moment of silence passed between them, broken only by the occasional flap of her wings to carry them further above the treetops, evident by the swishing of leaves he could hear. Tazaro felt a tingle in the back of his head and heard her mention something about looking for a clearing to land with.

He watched the wingspan tilt to an almost vertical position and felt the slow, controlled descent as they spiraled down into the clearing.

“When I tell you, let go.” She ordered.

He expected her to drop him hard onto the ground, but as he hit grass with a soft flump, he snapped open his eyes just in time to watch her swoop her legs beneath herself to land gracefully on her feet. She took a few wobbly steps to work out the rest of her momentum, rubbing her sore arms.

Tazaro dropped his gaze to the forest floor, then looked up at the sky from where they’d just been. It seemed so far away, and he felt the crestfallen drag on his face at his longing to be back among the stars again despite his morbid fear of heights.

She waved her hand, and her ball of light rose from her palm and hovered behind her head to illuminate the way. Tazaro had just gotten to his knees when she approached and set her hand on his head, focusing. After a short moment, she turned away and stepped off in the direction, pausing to wait for him to get to his feet and stand.

“Your mother is not far, now, though exactly how far, I do not know how to tell. I will test that out when this is all over. For now, we travel on foot. I do not want to give Llyud the heads-up that we are on our way.” She announced, shuffling her jacket as she retracted her wings.

He followed her into the thickening brush from the clearing they’d landed in. He caught a branch before it swung back to slap him across the face and sent her a scornful look. It quickly disappeared as he realized she’d been looking back at him, a conflicted expression on her face.

“Once we get your mother back, I am going to leave Roussell.” She announced, taking a few steps forth. She stared at him again for a moment, then shook her head, feeling she owed an explanation even though he hadn’t asked.

“Llyud has kidnapped your mother and burnt your home to the ground.” She paused, and took a deep breath, and felt her expression soften. “It is my fault you and your mother are wrapped up in this. I think I should not have stayed with her as long as I have.”

She scowled and kicked a rock along the path she followed, sulking. Tazaro watched it roll and bounce before it disappeared into the darkness.

“Conceited of me to think I could keep everyone safe!” She spat, picking up her pace. Tazaro did his best to keep up, unable to think of anything to say that would convince her that, at the least, no one was blaming her for anything.

They carried on for a good while, only stopping after the light flickered a couple of times, no longer having constant focus. Sheeva grabbed a stick and made a clearing in the dank, damp decay littering the ground, arranged some bracken and branches, and blew a breath of fire to light it.

Once they had a decent pile of dying embers, Sheeva announced that she would try to sleep. After setting some wards, she curled up at the base of one tree, and Tazaro curled up at another, shuffling into his jacket to help keep himself warm. It didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep.