Lumo wished me a good night with a familiar, comforting kiss to my forehead, and I was half tempted to pull him into my sleeping quarters with me. I longed for his comfort, and when he left me standing alone by my chamber door, I was embarrassed of my own disappointment.

So, when I heard a familiar tapping on my window after I lay my head down to sleep, I jolted out of bed faster than ever before. Yet, as I drew the curtains, there was no crow there to greet me - but long-necked crane, white feathers aglow with moonlight. I stared for a moment, confused, but another tap of long beak on glass urged me to move quickly. I struggled for a moment, pulling the old wooden window frame upwards with a splintering screech, and the bird leaned forward, revealing the small tied parchment on its silken neck.

I untied the string-wrapped parchment and watched the crane jump back, hopping on long legs, before it stretched its grand wings and disappeared into the night.

Of all the words that could have been written, of all the messages I could have received, I would never have expected that I had next read by the soft light of the moon.

Dear Sister,

I have finally found you.

She has taken mother with flowery words.

I have seen her eyes, so now it is my turn to run.

I have seen horrors - and my heart aches for you - for Lucerna.

I cannot reach father.

I cannot say more - be weary of cranes.

I hope you are safe, and that our paths may cross again.

There is so much I wish to say to you.

* L

Limenta.

I read her scrawled words, calligraphy still delicate and swirling even in haste. There was a bloom of guilt brewing inside me. Since my time away, my thoughts only seldom went back to my family. All this time, I assumed their lives would continue as they always had, if not unburdened by my presence.

As conflicted as my feelings were for my sister, there were still pieces of me that remembered the young girl she once was - what we both were. For most of my life, she was my very best friend. Although, I would not deny that the older we grew, the more fractured our bond became. She was beyond clever - so it only made sense that she would realize the true nature of the Guides.

I have seen her eyes.

My mind raced.

How did she find me? And where was she, if on the run?

Be weary of cranes.

I jumped to the door, throwing it open, only to run directly into Lumo, face colliding with his chest. He staggered backwards, catching me.

“The cranes,” I spat to the flustered Lumo.

“What are you talking about?”

I shoved the letter to his chest, and watched, heart racing as he quickly scanned over the parchment. Without a word, with a swirl of his cloak, Lumo was gone, leaving me breathless and alone in the dark hall.

- - -

“Gods, we’ll have to go back to the courier days,” grumbled Barros over breakfast. “Lumo was able to stop me before I got most of them out but who knows how much damage has already been done.”

I shook my head, still exhausted from yet another night without rest as I picked at the dried fruit spread idly. Lumo also seemed tired, resting his chin upon folded arms atop the table. Aixel and Cylie were still upstairs, finalizing their packs for the trip.

“Are you sure we can’t take the horses?” screamed Cylie from the stairs, short hair particularly wild, “Dots can be real sneaky.”

“No,” shouted Barros in return, not looking up from his morning tea.

I smiled, turning to Lumo, only to see his face stoic and still.

“You alright?” I whispered, leaning into him.

“I… yes. Just tired,” he said with a small smile, “Are you ready to head out then?”

I nodded, taking one last bite before excusing myself.

By the time we finally made it to the north gate, the suns were already high in the sky. Aixel, already annoyed that we had not left earlier, had already flew past us in his void form, and with Lumo scouting far above the clouds as crow, Cylie and I were left with the heavy packs.

We walked between the bleached trees, slow and careful, and without the blanket of night, I finally saw the scarred grounds of the prior night. The dry dirt field, clay rich and red, held tiny sparkles in the light of armor long- trodden on. I held my breath as we walked past one of the great twin headed serpent mounts, now dry and coiled, but its mouth still snarling with its final bite.

Before we reached the crest of the hill, once lined with the green Herculea flames, we placed the magicked canvas cloths, cloaking ourselves until we reached the treecover of the north. Although the path was mostly flat, the suns burned bright through the darkened cloth, and I found myself sweating to the point of exhaustion. I was reminded of Milea’s furnace, as I found myself stumbling between patches of shade. Even Cylie was quiet between grumbling complaints.

This continued without rest until the sky began to darken once more. And although we had not yet reached the woods just yet, the dead grass started to look more and more alive with every step. We had made it past several patrolling groups without issue, and the security of our cloaks finally began to fade with the evening light as we made it to a small clearing.

By the time we arrived, Lumo had already set up camp, and was already diligently making wards beside a lounging Aixel. When he caught sight of us, he jumped up, taking both packs of our sweating backs.

“I still don’t know why you brought all of this,” said Lumo, shaking his head as he grabs the strap off Cylie’s shoulder.

Cylie collapsed dramatically to the ground, sprawling out and panting.

“Gods, I can’t wait until we make it farther north,” she groaned, “Why couldn’t we bring horses again? There were only like three patrol groups the whole way here.”

“There’ll be more,” said Lumo, shaking his head.

Aixel sat up, already searching the pack for food.

Stolen story; please report.

I slumped down next to Cylie, dying to get out of the armor, sweat sticking uncomfortably to the back of my neck. I threw off my soggy gloves and helmet in disgust. Lumo sat next to me, continuing where he had left off with the wooden ward, wearing a sympathetic grin.

“I could do with that fancy little spell of yours at the moment, Lumo. What was it? Exit -cactus or something?” I groaned, wiping my face.

Lumo’s smile dropped.

“No. No bewitching,” he said flatly, not looking up.

“Oh, come now,” I laughed, “I’m miserable.”

Lumo suddenly stood, dropping the now completed ward.

“I said no,” he snapped, jaw tight.

I sat up, shook with his sudden fire.

“I - Sorry. Of course you don’t have to. I was only-” I stammered.

But before I could finish, he was gone. A flutter of cape in the night.

I looked to Cylie and Aixel, who also seemed equally as concerned and confused.

My heart sank below a thousand seas. What had I done? Why did I say that?

“Well - at least he left the tents,” said Aixel, eyebrows raised. “A bit sensitive, that one.”

I stood. I wanted to run, to hide, to perhaps fall through the earth as my stomach twisted with knots anew.

What was wrong with me?

“You alright, Mira?” said Cylie, still sorting through the bags.

“I - excuse me,” I managed.

The tent was the same as those nights which felt so long ago - furnished with a comfortable cot and even a short water basin to wash. I sat, slumped, mind racing with frustration at my own misdeeds as I tore at the armor. I fell back onto the bed, even more comfortable than the boarding house, with armor now laying in a sad heap on the ground.

Here I was, freshly reunited with Lumo, and it only took two days for me to tarnish what little we had repaired of once was. Even before Solia’s ruling, he was so adamantly against bewitching, so why did I think it would do well to jest about it?

“Knock, knock.”

It was Cylie from behind the black canvas tent door. She peeked inside, armed with the prior evening’s leftovers. I tried to manage a smile, and she took two timid steps inward, high-stepping over the armor.

“It’s not as good cold, but I don’t think we’ll be having fires any time soon,” she said, handing me the small cup of stew.

“Thank you,” I said, avoiding eye contact.

I was not crying, and knew a look at her sympathy-worn face would not help.

“Do you - do you know what that was about?” she asked, taking a seat next to me.

“Not particularly,” I hesitated, “I just know it’s a sore subject… I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Right… Right,” she sighed, “Well - Let’s just hope he comes back. I’ll take this over dirt and canvas cover anytime,” she added, gesturing to the tent.

My stomach sank even further.

What if he didn’t come back?

Cylie put a sudden hand on my back, perhaps sensing my newest onset of gloom.

“Mira - I’m sure it’s fine. He’s probably just on edge from having to hang out with Aixel by himself,” she teased, “Now get some sleep, please. And wash up too - you smell awful. But maybe that’s just me.”

Alas, another long night of laying awake. Although it was quite some time before Cylie and Aixel ceased their nightly bickering, it was now quiet in my tent - alone with the silent arid night winds. It was a strange contrast to the crickets and frogs of the swamps that lulled me to sleep during my last travels. Even the boardhouse had the sounds of soldiers, horses, and other nighttime wanderers to fill the night air. Yet here, I was only greeted with the hollow wind, whistling between leafless trees and the ghosts of ages of soldiers who once roamed these empty fields.

I drifted, listening for any flutter of cloak or wings, until I finally found myself in the embrace of sleep. There was the beach, the gentle waves, the sunless sky. There was…

Something outside my tent.

My eyes opened to the dark, and I saw a familiar silhouette standing outside of my canvas tent wall. I jolted upright, jumping off the cot, stubbing my toe on sharp Halmore armor in the process. I cursed to myself, before lifting the tent door.

Lumo was there, mouth open slightly in surprise, face hidden behind his golden mask.

“Apologies - I didn’t mean to wake you,” he spoke, voice quiet and oddly timid in the night.

I stepped to the side, gesturing to him to come in.

“Please,” I asked.

He stood for a moment, quiet, before nodding and following me inside.

I sat on the bed, watching as he stiffly stood in front of me in the dark quarters.

“I’m sorry - I should not have joked about that - I -” I began, clearing my throat.

“Mira, Mira, Mira - No, please,” he interrupted, crouching before me.

I waited for him to speak, but when only slow measured breaths filled the tent, my stomach began to knot. I knelt beside him, beginning to reach for him, but stopping myself just before my hands touched his. He was trembling.

“Are you okay?” I whispered, searching the dark for his face and only seeing glimpses of gold.

“Mira, I am not upset at you, Gods,” he said slowly, voice tight, “I just… ask for your patience.”

I shook my head.

“Of course - anything, Lumo,” I said, mind racing and throat now tight with oncoming tears, “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to - I just…Just tell me what I can do -”

“I… nothing, Mira. Just sitting here with me is more than I deserve,” he said, voice soft.

“More than you deserve? Lumo -” I stopped myself, eyes burning.

I wanted nothing more to hold him - to comfort him as he had comforted me so many times before. Yet something pulled me away from touching him - as if when my fingers touched his, he would disappear completely.

Gods, what had he been through.

“Lumo,” I hesitated, “May I touch you?”

“Gods, please,” he breathed.

I moved behind him on the ground, folding my arms tightly around him as I buried my face into his warm neck. I felt his arms move over mine where they clenched around his chest, as he took more strained and slow breaths. As my own tears fell into the cloth of his cape, I felt the moisture of his silver tears hit the side of my cheek.

I wanted nothing more than to rip his pain away - to set fire to those who had hurt him.

Gods, what had Herculea done to him?

We stayed like this for a moment, before Lumo carefully unwrapped my fingers from around him. He turned to me, thumbs wiping away the remaining tears left beneath my eyes.

“Thank you, sweet Mira,” he said, clearing his throat.

I could only shake my head.

“Here I am - keeping you from sleep once more,” he said, standing.

He pulled me upwards off the ground, leading me to the cot with a gentle hand as I sat on the edge.

“Goodnight, Mira,” he said, turning and pulling away towards the canvas tent door.

I did not let go of his hand.

He turned towards me, confused.

I shook my head once more.

“I don’t want you to sleep alone,” I said, keeping my voice steady.

He hesitated, and I watched as he looked up and took a steady breath.

“Mira - that is… lovely - but if you’re wanting - saying that out of sympathy for me - I will be fine, I promise. You have done more than enough,” he said in measured tone.

“Lumo,” I cleared my throat, “I am asking you to stay because I care very deeply for you, and the thought of you leaving now to sleep alone absolutely shatters me. And so, if you’ll allow me, I would much rather hold you until you fall asleep.”

Lumo removed his hand from mine, but when I watched him remove his cloak, letting it drop to the ground beside my armor, I was able to breathe once more.

He leaned over, lifting me and placing my head upon my pillow, before laying atop the cover beside me. I turned to him, reaching my hand out of the blanket and touching his fingers where they lay neatly on his chest. I watched as he pulled my fingers to his mouth, lightly kissing them before he returned them to chest. I felt his warmth even through his linen shirt, and watched the dim moonlight trace the shape of his jaw.

I moved as close as I could manage, and placed my head upon his shoulder. And when the corners of his mouth rose into just a glimpse of his sweet smile, I could finally sleep once more.