Quiet pops echoed in the forest.

The universal Mediator’s signal wasn’t a very versatile one, but it was useful enough that it was the first spell that a Mediator needed to learn in basic training. It wasn’t meant for conveying messages and was usually used to let a fellow Mediator know that something needed their attention.

The sound was innocuous enough that it could be easily ignored no matter the place, and the forest was no exception. Sera was tempted to pretend that it was just the sound of an old branch snapping or a distant woodpecker tapping away at a tree, but she had heard the sound too many times to ever mistake it for anything else.

Sera considered ignoring the obvious summons. Even though the Otherworlder had marked the false Second as a Demon, effectively clearing her of a mutiny charge, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t be punished for the terrible decision-making she’d made with everything involving Lena.

Standing in the rain for a few hours had given her a rare moment alone with her thoughts, and though she spent a good portion of that time wallowing in the memory of the spiteful glare that Lena had shot at her before she left, she spent the rest of her time thinking about what would happen to her.

Even in the best case scenario, she would be demoted, probably taken off of active duty and put back on basic training for years until she could prove that she could be trusted in a leadership position again.

And that was if they didn’t just excommunicate her outright.

The popping sounds continued to echo around her, carried by the wind currents in small pockets of mana. The range of the spell was small enough that it wouldn’t be difficult for Sera to search for the caster, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.

Rooted on the spot, staring blankly into nothing, she simply waited for the caster to find her.

“Sera.”

Sera didn’t turn around, but she recognized the voice.

“Tenna,” she replied. Sera was surprised by how hoarse her voice was. She hadn’t been crying. “Am I being detained?”

“No,” Tena replied. “You’re still part of the team.”

Sera was tempted to respond with, “For now,” but she stayed silent. It was pointless to say out loud.

“Leader Stoney wants to send the Founder a message, so he wants you and Oren back to help with the ritual,” Tenna continued. “Oren gave him a pretty bad concussion, so we need the two of you back to make five.”

Sera felt like she should ask if Stoney was okay, but she didn’t feel like she could summon the energy. She turned around to face Tenna.

He stared back at her, with his arms folded across his chest and a frown on his face.

“You look like shit,” he said.

Sera simply walked past him, ignoring the comment. “Mayor’s house?” she asked, as if speaking quickly made it easier to ignore how raspy her voice sounded.

“Yeah,” Tenna replied, before following behind her.

Sera appreciated the silence that Tenna allowed her, even if he likely didn’t think much of it. Idle small talk wasn’t something that Mediators did amongst each other, which was something that Sera would miss. Would she have to engage in small talk in her civilian life?

Sera sighed. Here she he was, already assuming that she would be fired from the Mediators.

It was a depressing thought, but more so was the fact that Sera couldn’t find any reason to think that it wasn’t true. The thought that she would become a civilian terrified her.

What would she even do with her life?

She couldn’t recall anything about her previous life as a civilian, but given that she was five when she first joined the organization, she doubted that any memories she had retained would be useful anyways. For a moment, Sera tried to recall anything about her past life, but she was surprised to realize that she barely remembered anything about that life, not even the faces of her late family.

The realization bothered her less than it probably should have. Her family dying at the hands of an Otherworlder was the original reason why she had chosen to become a Mediator in the first place, but her desire for revenge had been fleeting. By the time she had finished her basic training and had been allowed in the field, the Otherworlder that had casually murdered her family years before had already passed on.

Though she had tried to keep her anger alive by directing it towards other Otherworlders, it was too tiring to sustain indefinitely. By the time that Sera had noticed that her desire for vengeance had all but faded out, she had already replaced it with a sense of duty and responsibility that was more than strong enough to motivate her to stay with the Mediators.

But it still felt disrespectful that she couldn’t remember her family. Not their faces or their names.

Sera sighed.

She decided that the first thing she wanted to do when she was fired was to visit their graves and apologize.

Not that she knew where their graves were.

Sera frowned.

- - -

“You doing okay?”

Bran watched as Lena’s eyes seemed to come into focus at the sound of his voice. He waved awkwardly with his free hand at his childhood friend, tilting his umbrella back so she could get a clearer look at his face. The rain had died out enough that the light drizzle didn’t bother him, so he kept his umbrella tilted back as Lena stared in his direction.

After what felt like an entire minute, she replied with a half-hearted shrug.

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

Bran felt his awkward grin turn crooked as he walked forward to join Lena on her porch. After setting his umbrella down against a pillar, Bran took a seat on the porch steps, keeping his back to Lena but turning his head enough that he could glance sideways at her if he wanted to.

He kept his eyes away for now, staring out into the distance.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“No,” Lena answered immediately. “Not really.”

Bran let out a sigh of relief, and immediately felt guilty for it. He glanced back at Lena to see if she noticed, but her gaze was blank and unfocused. He felt another tinge of relief and immediately felt guilty again.

“My dad sent me over to make sure nobody died,” he said quickly, to break himself out of the loop. “He’s at the tavern right now. Apparently one of the walls just completely collapsed?”

As Lena stayed silent, Bran’s first thought was to assume that she hadn’t heard him. He quickly scolded himself for being stupid and patiently waited for her to respond.

“Yeah,” she eventually replied.

Bran couldn’t tell if she was saying that nobody had died or if she was acknowledging that the tavern had been partially destroyed.

“Did Jamie destroy the wall?” he asked, too afraid to ask about his other question, in case he didn’t like the answer.

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was one of the Mediators.”

Bran was more than a little surprised by the answer. Why? How? Which one? He didn’t want to barrage Lena with his questions though, so he chose one at random. “Why?” he asked.

Lena twitched and her brow furrowed slightly before returning to a more neutral state. She shrugged.

It was obvious to Bran that she knew more than she was letting on, but it was even more obvious that it would be a bad idea to ask.

Not wanting to accidentally ask the question anyways, Bran quickly blurted out the next thing he could think of to force the topic away.

“What’s that you got in your hand?” he asked.

“Huh?” Lena replied, looking down at her hand as if surprised that there was something there. She raised the book up in her hands before frowning at it. “It’s a book.”

“Yeah, I- I guess,” Bran said, biting back the automatic sarcastic response he had lined up. “Is it a good read?”

Lena frowned as she turned the book over in her hands again. “I haven’t even opened it yet,” she said. “My dad lent it to me.”

“Oh. And how is your dad?” Bran asked.

“He’s fine,” Lena answered, a little too quickly.

Once more, Bran forced himself to steer the topic away to avoid the obvious sore subject. He wondered if her dad was related to the reason why she was sitting outside on her porch, even when he could see the lamplight shining from the window.

“What’s the book called?” he asked.

Lena stared down at the book and tilted it so she could read the cover. “The Chronicles of a Witness,” she said.

“Oh yeah?” Bran said, wondering for a moment why the name sounded so familiar. “What’s it about?”

“It’s an autobiography, written by one of the Followers of the Plague King.”

Bran winced and looked away.

“Sorry,” he said.

“What for?” Lena asked.

“For bringing it up.”

“Don’t be,” Lena said. “Not like you knew what it was. I know you can’t read.”

Lena’s attempt at forcing a casual mood was terrible, but he still played along as best as he could.

“Har har,” Bran said. “Very funny.”

Lena let out a humorless laugh. “Say, why do you think my dad lent me this?” she asked. “Do you think he’s implying I should write a book too?”

“Maybe?” Bran said, not convinced by the suggestion, but not knowing Lena’s dad well enough to refute it. “I hear Eti made a lot of money off of it. Might as well get something out of your...” Bran trailed off as he struggled to find a word to say that wasn’t, ‘Suffering.’

“Experience?” Lena suggested.

“Yeah,” Bran said. “That. I guess.”

“I don’t think my experiences with Jamie would be as exciting to read about, if I’m being honest,” Lena said. “He’s a good guy. Nothing like the other Otherworlders we’ve heard about.”

“Then write about that,” Bran said.

“What do you mean?” Lena asked.

“Well, Jamie’s a good guy, right?” Bran said, eager to latch the positive change in topic. “Maybe you can write about that? To tell everyone that not all Otherworlders are terrifying creatures of destruction?”

“You really think that’s a good idea?” Lena asked.

“Sure!” he said. “I mean, I think it could help. I definitely almost pissed myself every time I got close to Jamie, until you showed me how nice he was. Maybe if you wrote a book, it would help people like me keep their pants clean.”

Lena frowned despite his joke.

“Not all Otherworlders are Jamie,” she said, lifting the book in her hand and waving it slightly. “The fact that this book exists is proof of that.”

Bran felt his smile deflate immediately.

“Oh,” he said.

Lena didn’t respond.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t be. It’s still not a terrible idea. Maybe I’ll write something after this is all done. Something to look forward to, right?”

Bran glanced at Lena, who was attempting a smile.

“I guess,” he said, smiling back at her. “What would you call it?”

“What would I call what?” Lena asked.

Bran smiled and rolled his eyes in what he hoped was a playful manner. “The book, idiot. Got any ideas for a title?”

Lena frowned, but thankfully Bran couldn’t see any real heat behind it. Her attempt at trying to look angry at him was just as obviously fake as her smiles.

“You just gave me the idea, you know,” she said. “How do you expect me to think of a title that fast?”

Bran forced out a laugh, acting like he’d been convinced by her attempts at feigning indignation. “I don’t see what’s so difficult about it. Just throw shit on the wall and see what fits. What about, ‘Legend of Lena’?”

Lena coughed into her hand. Bran felt himself smile slightly. It was an uncomfortable sound, raspy and wet, but it was the closest she’d gotten to a genuine laugh since he got there.

“That’s fucking stupid,” she said.

“Well it is the best you’ve got so far,” Bran said, with a quiet laugh. “I expect a fifty percent cut of all your profits, unless you can think of a better one.”

“You’re so stupid. You know that?”

“That would be a pretty interesting book title,” Bran said, cupping his chin with his fingers and pretending like he was seriously considering the suggestion. “Not sure it beats, ‘Legend of Lena’ but I’d definitely pick up a book that insulted me before I even picked it up.”

“Ignoring the fact that you wouldn’t be able to read the title.”

Bran sighed and shook his head. “I’m disappointed in you, Lena. You already used that insult today,” Bran said. “You used to be a lot more creative with your insults, you know.”

“Well excuse me for being traumatized,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. “I think I can get a pass after literally dying and being brought back to life a few hours ago.”

Bran froze, not knowing how to react to that. The way that Lena casually mentioned it made it seem like a joke, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, I guess you would get a pass for that.”

Lena stared at him, as if she was confused by his sudden change in tone. After a moment of silence, she sighed.

“Sorry,” she said.

“What for?” Bran asked.

“For suggesting you can’t read,” Lena responded, waving the book in her hand. “You already knew the author’s name. Have you read it before?”

Bran shook his head, somewhat stunned by the abrupt change in topic. “No. I just knew about it because apparently Eti means ‘the Author’ in Timuran. Polly mentioned it to me once and I thought it was interesting.”

Lena let out a laugh. “I guess that is pretty interesting,” she said. “Though I’m not sure I can trust Polly’s expertise in Timuran.”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess you’re right,” Bran replied.

A long silence stretched out between the two, until Lena broke it with a sigh.

“Nobody’s dead at the moment,” she said. “That’s what your dad wanted you to come here for, right? You can tell him everything’s fine.”

“You sure about that?” Bran asked.

“Yes,” Lena responded, lifting her hand up to lazily shoo him away. “You should go tell him.”

Bran stared at Lena for a few more seconds before standing up. He stared down at her for a bit longer before grabbing his umbrella.

“You know you can always talk to me, right?” he asked. “You’re my best friend.”

“Shouldn’t be saying those things to girls,” Lena said, still shooing him away. “Polly might get jealous.”

“I’m serious, Lena,” Bran said. “I care about you.”

Lena smiled up at him.

“Thanks,” she said, still shooing him away. “Maybe later.”

Bran stared down at Lena for a few more seconds before turning away. He walked slowly, giving Lena the time to change her mind and call out to him, but she never did.