At the mention of pie, silence descended on everyone who had assembled. The rats grew hushed, and the orc named Silvari looked at Gideon with a glare of confusion. Her right eye twitched menacingly, and Gideon took a step back.

He was hunched over, trying to avoid knocking his head on the low beams of the castle undercroft. He held the pie in front of him like an offering or a shield, depending on how things went.

The room’s only light came from the glowing Moonstone fragments in the ceiling. As he considered them, he wondered how the rats had managed to use them as lamps. It explained why he’d seen one of the rats trying to gather broken fragments from the spider cave, at least.

Though all the eyes in the room were on him, no one spoke, and Gideon decided to fill the silence as best he could. “I thought of bringing a cheese wheel,” he offered. “But we didn’t have a fresh one, so… I hope this is okay.” He looked over to the side of the circle and spotted a small wooden table. Resting atop it was an already opened bag of crackers and a potato covered in eyes. Gideon shuffled over and placed the pie next to the other food, careful not to turn his back on the orc.

“It’s only a stereotype,” Rathe said quietly. “We don’t all love cheese.”

“I love cheese,” said a rat standing next to Juniper. Juniper turned and smacked him with a paw. “Ow.”

“What I mean to say is that your gesture of pie is much appreciated,” Rathe said. He sniffed the air and closed his eyes. “Freshly made, too, judging by the scent. How lovely.”

As Rathe spoke, he smoothly walked to the center of the circle of chairs until he was directly between Gideon and the hulking orc. Seeing such a small creature interpose himself between two larger ones was strange. The fragments of Moonstone hanging from the ceiling cast the giant rat in a purple light.

At Rathe’s words, Silvari’s eye stopped twitching, and her features softened. “Roast me and call for dinner,” she muttered, an idiom that Gideon had never before heard. “We’re extending invitations upstairs now? To hell with that.” In a flash, her anger had been replaced by disappointment. With one last defeated look, she shook her head and turned to leave.

“Please, Silvari,” Rathe said, leaning on his cane as he raised his other paw towards her. “I would have warned you if I’d been able to find you, but I never could. I think you and our new guest might have some things in common. You are, after all, the only ones here who were meant to walk on two feet.”

The orc woman shook her head violently, and Gideon noticed a set of metal rings braided into her shoulder-length black hair. They chimed as they clattered against each other. “We’re not the same. He wasn’t experimented upon, Rathe. He isn’t trapped here.”

“Not yet, at least,” Rathe said calmly. “Would you speak to him if he was? Perhaps we should scratch him with the Moonstone a few more times for good measure.”

“You jest in poor taste, Rat King,” Silvari growled. Half in shadow, she lingered at the threshold of the Moonstone’s purple glow.

“Though he might not be as deeply afflicted as you or I,” Rathe said, “he is moon-touched. This is the Moon-Touched Support Group, Silvari, is it not?”

“He’s a dirty necromancer,” Silvari grumbled, turning to Gideon and spitting on the ground by her feet.

“I’m not a necromancer,” Gideon replied. “Why does everyone keep assuming that?”

“You will be one day if the lord of this castle has anything to say about it.”

Gideon considered that for a moment. He couldn’t dispute it—no doubt Uncle Kelvan did wish for him to eventually learn that school of magic. “I don’t think necromancy is necessarily a bad thing,” he said. “I know it has an evil reputation, but in Acretan, no school of magic is outlawed. What matters is what you do with it. To be honest, much of our modern medicine was based on research done by necromancers.”

“Bah,” Silvari said. “You lot will justify anything.” She nodded to Rathe. “Bye, then.”

“Wait,” Gideon said, stepping into the circle. “I don’t want to cause any problems. If anyone is going to leave, it should be me.”

Silvari scowled at him, her fangs showing. “No, you don’t get to leave. I already said I was going to leave. You’re trying to trick me, but I see through you. You know what they say, never trust a—”

“Never trust a wizard,” Gideon echoed, and Silvari’s eye twitched again. He raised his hands defensively. “You’re not wrong. But I meant what I said. I don’t want to disrupt your group.” He looked down at Rathe. “You know where to find me if you still want to talk. Enjoy the pie.”

Rathe sighed. “If you insist.”

Gideon turned and walked away. Thankfully, he was pretty sure he remembered the path back to the staircase.

“Silvari, don’t you think you’re being a meanie?” It was the squeaky voice of Juniper. “You may think Giddy is a high-falutin’ upstairs wizard, like he’s got no problems, but I daresay I’ve never seen a fate half so tangled.”

Did she call me Giddy?

“Bah,” Silvari said. “Not you, too, Junie.”

“Just saying. You’re really going to cast such a pall on our nice and friendly meeting?”

“Damn,” Silvari sighed. “All right, all right.”

The orc stomped forward and took the largest of the open chairs, then glared at Gideon. “Sit down, wizard boy.” She cocked her head to the side, then turned to Rathe. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Excellent,” Rathe said, clapping his paws together. “Please, grab some food before we settle in, everyone.”

The rats gathered around the table as Juniper began to cut the pie with a tiny rat-sized knife. Gideon wished he had brought more, but each rat only took a tiny piece. After each of the rats had been fed, Juniper cut three more pieces, handing one to Rathe and one to Gideon, keeping one for herself.

As Juniper handed Gideon his slice, she whispered, “She ain’t so bad once you get to know her. I promise.”

Gideon nodded but didn’t know what to say. He could feel Silvari’s eyes on him, boring into his soul from across the room.

The rats sat on the open chairs and dug into their food. Soon, the undercroft was filled with the sound of chewing. Gideon spotted a wooden stool that, while still small, was larger than the other chairs. He sat, holding his own thin slice and nibbling at it.

It was damned good. Thank you, Grimsby.

Rathe took a seat halfway between Gideon and Silvari. Juniper had left one slightly bigger slice of pie in the pan, which she carried to where Silvari was seated.

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“I’m not hungry,” the orc said as she waved the young rat away, but Juniper thrust the pan into her hands anyway.

“Take it, you big grump,” Juniper said, and Silvari accepted it with a defeated look. “Are you okay? You didn’t even bring your axe tonight, Silvari.”

Maybe that’s a good thing, Gideon thought. I don’t believe that orc should be armed.

“Didn’t feel like it,” Silvari said. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Juniper replied, patting her shin. It was a strange sight to see the tiny rat comfort the orc. Gideon tried not to stare and took another taste. The apples were the perfect balance of sweet and tart, accompanied by the bite of cinnamon.

All were quiet for a time, other than the sounds of nibbling as they feasted. From the corner of his eye, Gideon thought he saw Silvari suppress a smile as she ate, devouring her slice in three bites.

“Wow,” Juniper said. “This is delish. Did you bake this yourself, Giddy?”

“Oh, no,” Gideon said. “Grimsby, the castle chef, made it.”

“Send him my compliments,” Juniper said. “Right, Pa?”

“It is excellent,” Rathe said, setting his now empty plate beside him. “But we must get started.” He chuckled. “We are a bit behind schedule… Who would like to share this week? Has anyone had any dreams or visions? Any dark thoughts? Any incidents with wild mana?”

A rat to Gideon’s left—the one who’d said earlier that he liked cheese—raised his paw.

Rathe nodded. “Please, Bill. Go ahead.”

“I keep seeing things at night,” Bill replied. “Terrifying things.”

“Oh?” Rathe said. “Are they bothering you?”

“A giant raspberry hovering at the foot of my bed, watching me sleep.”

Rathe placed his head in his hands and sighed but said nothing as Bill told a story of throwing off his covers and chasing the raspberry. But it grew legs and ran away, forever out of reach, taunting him.

“That’s tragic,” one of the other rats said quietly.

“I know,” Bill said. “I love fruit even more than cheese.”

“Are you sure that’s a vision?” Juniper asked. “Maybe you should stop going to bed hungry.”

“Can’t help it,” Bill said, and Gideon noticed that some of the other rats around the circle nodded to themselves. He thought of the tiny amount of food brought to share. Were the rats going hungry down here? What did they have besides what they were able to scavenge?

He thought of how he’d eaten so well since coming to the castle, thanks to Grimsby and the supplies they’d procured from Emberly.

After Bill, some of the other rats shared their stories. One kept having nightmares of being chased through the castle by Lord Kelvan. Another said they saw an older woman running with a giant pair of scissors. Everyone listened to each story, nodding sympathetically, sometimes offering advice or a word of support.

The rat next to Gideon spoke next, describing an incident where he got into a fight with his sister, only to shoot a ray of purple light from his paw.

“Burned a hole in my litter box,” he said sadly.

“We’ll help you rebuild,” Rathe said. “Don’t worry. We’ve all been the victim of wild mana eruptions now and then, haven’t we?”

The other rats and Silvari murmured in agreement. Gideon hadn’t noticed anything like that, yet, but he wondered what the future held for him.

Now that the rat next to him had finished, all eyes turned towards Gideon.

“Would you like to share?” Rathe asked gently. “You don’t have to, but perhaps you could talk about how being moon-touched has affected you so far?”

“I’ve had some troubling dreams, but that’s all,” Gideon said. He looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap. “I don’t really remember.”

“If you can’t remember,” Rathe said, “how could they be troubling?”

“I remember being troubled,” Gideon said carefully. “Running for my life. A flash of light, a booming sound, and then darkness.”

A few of the rats began to whisper around the circle, too many at once for Gideon to understand them.

Rathe’s voice cut through the din. “It is said that the less you remember of a vision, the more distant and uncertain it is. Being moon-touched does not mean you see the future. The future doesn’t exist yet. But you have seen, perhaps, a future. One that may come to pass, but may also be avoided.”

“That’s a relief,” Gideon said.

“It’s not,” Silvari replied, and Gideon’s eyes turned towards her. It was the first time she’d spoken since the meeting had started.

“Let’s not scare him,” Rathe said.

Silvari shook her head, then focused her eyes on Gideon. “That’s up to you. Being scared, I mean. Listen, wizard, if you keep having the dream, it means you’re drawing ever nearer. Maybe you can change your fate, but it doesn’t mean you will. If you keep doing what you’ve been doing, you’re doomed.”

“Now, Silvari, that’s a little—”

“I had a dream like it once,” Silvari said. “I thought I was smart. I thought I could avoid it. In the end, all my running only brought me closer to my fate.” She looked down at the floor, her green features somber, her eyes half-closed. “No matter where I turned, calamity followed.”

Gideon didn’t know what to say. The meeting was silent for a few heartbeats.

“Where does it happen, Gideon?” Rathe asked. “Your dream?”

The details were hazy. He remembered the dark stone of Castle Kastorus, however. He remembered running down stairs.

“I think it was here,” he said after a while. “In the castle.”

“Huh,” Silvari grunted, refusing to elaborate.

“Be that as it may, you still have time, yet,” Rathe said. “And it may not be entirely bad. Sometimes, through the darkness, we find our path.”

After Gideon, the rest of the rats around the circle had a chance to speak. Juniper told a story about dreaming of her ma. Rathe recounted a dream of being in a cage.

Another rat told the story of a giant roast ham that spoke to him, promising he was destined for greatness. Gideon noted that many of the visions and dreams experienced by the rats seemed to involve food. It was a sadly common theme.

The last person to speak was Silvari. She looked at Gideon for a long moment before focusing on Rathe. “I got nothing to say.”

“Maybe next time,” Rathe said. He turned to look around the circle, meeting the eyes of each of them before moving on. “In that case, we shall adjourn. As always, I’ll be here if you want to talk.”

With Rathe’s words, everyone got up from their chairs. Most of the rats began to leave, chatting to each other as they departed. A few others, including Bill, walked up to Rathe, eager to speak with him. Silvari rose from her chair and, with a glance around the room, turned as if she planned to go.

Gideon crossed to the other side of the circle before he knew what he was doing.

“Thank you,” he said.

Silvari turned and looked down at him. Her annoyance with him had been replaced, once again, by confusion. “Thank me for what?”

“For staying. For allowing me to stay. For offering your advice.”

Silvari shrugged. “I didn’t do it for you, wizard. I did it for those cursed rodents.” She jutted her chin towards where Rathe was conversing with Bill and a few others, embracing each of them and patting them on the shoulder as they left the meeting. Silvari fixed her eyes intently on Gideon. “And I did it for myself. Dishonor is the only pain you can always avoid. Junie was right. I was being rude whether you deserved it or not. Don’t like new people. Don’t like old people. Don’t like anybody much. Nothing personal.” She hunched forward and walked into the darkness.

“Good night,” Gideon said.

“That remains to be seen,” she called back to him, and then was gone.

He waited for the other rats to speak to Rathe and then depart. It took a little while—a couple of them decided to cut the eyes off the potato and split it between them. A few others took the remaining cracker crumbs.

I need to talk to Grimsby, Gideon thought. But already, a plan had begun to form. His Uncle’s words came to mind—All budget, salary, and staffing decisions will be made by the hotel manager.

Gideon busied himself, stacking the chairs in the corner of the room. As he finished, he heard Rathe clear his throat behind him. Juniper stood next to her father, her nose twitching curiously. The other rats were gone, and the room had grown strangely quiet.

“I didn’t expect to see an orc down here,” Gideon said.

“You didn’t think Miss Ashewood only experimented on rats, did you?” Rathe replied. “We were cheap. Expendable. But ultimately, too dissimilar to humans. The Moonstone affects us differently than you.”

“I was wondering about that,” Gideon said. “I don’t understand why.”

“Animals like us normally hold only a tiny, almost minuscule, amount of mana in our cores. But the Moonstone gives us access to more. By our usual standards, it is a practically infinite amount. For many of the test subjects, it drove them mad, or killed them outright. But for some of us—the rare few who survived Ondine Ashewood’s experiments—we found ourselves reborn.” He placed a paw on his chest.

“You became far smarter, and far more powerful, than Ondine ever expected,” Gideon said as he pieced it together. “You broke them all out, didn’t you? Including Silvari.”

Rathe nodded. “I’m afraid, besides the rats, she was the only subject who survived.”

“She saved me that night,” Juniper added. “She’s not so bad, Gideon. You’ll see.”

“I don’t blame her for not trusting me,” Gideon said. “I wouldn’t either, in her position. To be honest, I’m surprised you all seemed to so quickly.”

“I’m an excellent judge of character,” Rathe said. “And as I mentioned, Mr. Moody, I’m afraid we need your help. As you may have seen tonight, we are dangerously short on supplies here in Paradise. We don’t have much to pay you with, but if there’s anything—”

Gideon smiled. “I don’t suppose you’d want to work at an inn, would you?” As he looked at Rathe and Juniper, another thought occurred to him. He still had another problem—Chloe, up in his room, slowly dying of his Uncle’s blight. “And by any chance, do either of you know vitamancy? Because I could really use some help.”