I set Ildrex down atop a rocky outcrop. We stopped on a mountainside overlooking the camp, watching the blight crest and fall in waves of monstrous forms. They broke against the thornwalls. The living palisades ripped them apart and the cannon shots smashed those that survived into bloody smears along the soil. Corpses littered the earth and the ground sucked them in—recycling them. Creating hordes even as they fell. It was a brutal slaughter. Endless.

But my eyes weren’t on the battle.

Instead, I stared at the woman atop the walls. A small amarid woman, standing no taller than five feet. She’d gained weight since the last time I saw her, but the look in her eyes was unmistakable. Cold. Robotic. She watched the slaughter with an impassive gaze, sending waves of noxious fumes into the blighted swarms without so much as a change in her expression.

The Blight Witch. Head Physician of the Summersky House and the personal military chemist of saer Horace Halcyn’s legion of Shissavi. Doctor, genius, and curer of cancer.

My mother.

I didn’t expect to see her this soon. Nor did I want to.

‘Your momma’s looking a little ragged, chief,’Traveler said, speaking into my mind. I wore his weave over myself, but now I was in control. In the back of my mind, I felt his presence recline, as if he were crossing his arms. ‘But judging from that look on your face… you ain’t planning on saying hi, are you?’

‘No. I'm not.’

‘That’s cold, chief. I’m sure even bad mothers deserve a little bit of love, eh?’

‘That woman isn’t a mother. Mothers have families. Her? Only one thing matters to her, and it’s down there in the blood and fumes.’

The Traveler went quiet and I stared at mother’s form in the distance, alone. Even now, with father growing old and no doubt recovering from cancer, she was out here. Fighting. Working.

She was always fucking working.

And now that I wasn’t around to take care of father, what was he doing? I knew. Deep in my bones, I knew. He would be alone in a dark house, sitting alone in front a dinner table meant to hold three people. He would use a chair and stare at the two that were empty. The ones he wanted to be filled by family.

But no, father was too soft. Too kind.

He wouldn’t be able to bear to ask mother to stay with him. Even as age began to take him away.

So now, she was here. Doing the only thing that ever mattered to her.

Her job.

I found myself glowering, as if my anger could strike her from afar. As if the heat in my chest could make her burst into flames and send her right back—back to where she should be. Next to family. The bansuri in my hands creaked, and I forced myself to soften my grip. Any more, and it would shatter. It would break.

I couldn’t let that happen to something that father made for me.

“That’s not a kind look you have on your face, Traveler,” Ildrex said, looking at me in curiosity. “Not a fan of the prince? Or the house he represents?”

“Neither,” and my reply was of two voices, mine and of the Traveler’s. Mixing. Joining together, just like the moment I fully bonded with his weave. “But this marks the end of our trade, doesn’t it, boss? I’ve brought you to safety.”

Ildrex nodded, “It does. I’ve still got plenty of stories to share, though. How about you listen to them next time for another trade? A story for each mug of ale you buy for the both of us.”

“I’m more of a tea person. Nothing cleanses the stomach like a cup of schaa, eh?”

He turned to the battle in the distance and smiled, “Then schaa it is. A bit bitter, for my tastes. I prefer sweeter drinks—ale and nectar, fresh. Although we’ve still got a long road ahead of us before we can get a cup of either, so those stories will have to wait.”

“Waiting is something I’ve learned to be good at, boss. I’ll hold you to that deal the next time I see you.”

“Of course. Now, let’s head down and—”

Ildrex turned to face me, but I was already stepping away. Out of the mortal ground and into the Phelasce—to the in-between where immortals belonged. Ildrex looked around, searching for me, but found nothing. He sighed and leapt off the outcrop, jumping for the walls in the distance.

I played a quick note of Galesong and flew after him. Just because I turned invisible to avoid mother, it didn’t mean that I was going to go and let my chance of a quick way out of the blighted lands go.

Even now, hitching a ride on an airship was still the fastest way.

“Are you okay, Rowan?” a voice inside my cloak asked. A black tentacle slipped out from inside, a single eye opening at the tip. Aami blinked at me, “You were glaring at that gas lady down there. Is she bad? Who is she?”

I shook my head, “She’s my mother. And there are a lot of reasons for me to hate her.”

“So she’s an enemy?”

“No. She’s just someone I’d rather not talk to right now.”

Aami nodded her tentacle and reached up to pat my head, “It’s okay, I understand. Some of the animals I ate before I met you had memories of eating their own kids. It’s weird.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

“I hope you don’t think that mother tried to eat me at some point.”

“She didn’t?”

“No. But she’s definitely poisoned me a few times.”

Which was standard alchemy training—preparation for emergency situations. As a practitioner of magical medicine and potioncraft, being able to create cures even while suffering from debilitating poisons was essential. Especially since accidents in the lab were so frequent.

That didn’t make the experience any less of an annoyance to remember, though.

And most people took that exam in their thirties. After years of experience under the tutelage of a much better alchemist, supervised by a team of professionals under trade guild law.

Mother made me do it in a cramped basement when I was thirteen. And the worst part? Doing it that way was still safer than under the supervision of some guild-licensed alchemists. Toxins were the Blight Witch’s specialty, after all. There was nothing she wouldn’t have been able to save me from.

More memories like it flooded my head as I descended from the sky, flying over the magical cannon fire. I hated it. I hated that seeing her once made me remember so many things.

And each memory only made me angrier.

Work, work, work. That was all that mattered. She’d trained me to replace her. To be like the alchemist that she was. And when she was satisfied, she left father and I by ourselves. She went to work and did whatever the rot she wanted.

Irresponsible. Reckless. Uncaring.

That was who she was.

And I hated the part of me that still respected her skill despite it all.

Ahead of us, I watched the Shissavi raise their arms as Ildrex stood on solid air. He floated just over the walls where the soldiers could see. They shouted at each other, and Ildrex flashed them his token—his proof of identity as a riftwalker. Quickly, the soldiers moved to make space. He landed on the wall.

I followed after him. Down the length of the battlements, down the other side, where a massive camp of druidcrafted buildings were raised from the soil. They looked like thick-trunked trees fashioned into various research and housing facilities. Ildrex’s escorts took him into a makeshift hospital and I watched them hand him a variety of tonics. Sustenance soups, healing salves, relaxants—the whole kit.

And each one was excellent. No doubt brewed by a master.

By mother.

Ildrex’s condition immediately improved as soon as he took the medicine. His malnourished body fattened up. The muscles returned and the little scrapes healed. His complexion warmed up from the frigid paleness of before, and for the first time since I met him, he no longer looked like a walking corpse. Now, a new man sat on the corner of his medical bed, sighing as he set his torn, bloodied gear down on top of the bedside table.

I stood by the corner of his room, leaning against the tree bark wall. Overhead, a bioluminescent shimmerbloom shone light down on the rest of the room. I waited as Ildrex changed into a loose shirt and clean pants, finally sitting down on his bed with a relieved sigh.

The door to the room opened and I turned my eyes to the pair who entered.

Saer Halcyn strode inside with an orange tomcat.

Ildrex rose as soon as he entered, taking hand to his chest and bowing. “Ashari qunir, prince Halcyn.”

There it was, again. Ashari qunir. A greeting in Old Caeri. The same that the Fae used. I frowned as the saer raised a hand and waved it with a shake of his head. “No, no. Sit back down, riftwalker. There’s no need for formalities here—especially not when you’ve just come from such a harrowing journey. Relax. My name is Horace Halcyn, first prince of House Summersky. May I know yours?”

I watched as the tension in Ildrex’s shoulders faded. He nodded and sat back down, the fatigue becoming apparent in his posture.

“Ildrex Soothson, my lord. And harrowing would be a pleasant way to describe my way back here. The Crimson Tide was relentless.”

“How bad is it beneath the rift?”

“Six gazerstalks rose when I tried to escape, saer. I’m afraid it’s as bad as it gets.”

“That’s a fearsome number, but not enough to destroy a fleet. You were part of the punitive force sent a week ago, no? What happened?”

“I was part of the RWA fleet, aye. Twenty riftwalkers and five hundred mercenaries. We came ready for the worst, and we still didn’t stand a chance.”

“What was it that came down? A heart?”

Ildrex shook his head, “Worse, my lord. A blood titan.”

Halcyn’s face darkened at the news. He motioned for the door, and several physicians came into the room. They ran diagnostics over Ildrex a second time, using magical instruments to check him for any signs of corruption.

It was all over him.

In his wounds, his dirtied clothes, his equipment—everything. Even in his blood samples. The blight in him was slowly eating him away. The saer nodded at his men as the orange cat walked past the bed. The tomcat moved closer to me, ambling and inspecting everything with a bored look. I stared down at the lazy little thing as I listened to the conversation.

“Transfer him to the laboratory where Miss Kindlebright is. He needs to be disinfected as soon as possible. We don’t know what this new type of blight does.”

Halcyn turned his head to Ildrex.

“Do you need to report to your headquarters?”

“Yes, my lord.”

The sear snapped his fingers as the physicians ushered Ildrex out of the room on a wheelchair, “I want an echo channeler brought to the laboratory with him—one linked to the Riftwalker’s Association in Felzan. Let him relay his findings and bring a transcription of the reports to me.”

The room quickly emptied until only the cat, the prince, and I remained. I pushed myself off the wall, striding for the door.

I didn’t want to see mother, but I needed to know what was going on. Especially in Felzan, closest to my hometown. Was the territory safe? Were the Stone Ribs away from danger? I had to know. Even if it meant putting on a weave and interrogating the Blight Witch herself.

“Ah, ah, ah—bad child,” a voice said, and I froze in place as the air around me changed. “Where do you think you’re going, hrm?”

I slowly turned my eyes to the cat.

Sharp.

That was what I felt.

Suddenly, midway through the room, I felt as if I was surrounded by razors. A million tiny blades, all stopping mere millimeters away from my skin. Any movement, and I would be cut. Shredded. Cold sweat lined my back and Aami tensed beneath my cloak as the orange cat walked between my feet.

My eyes followed it, and the cat sat in front of me, looking up with a pair of brilliant emerald eyes. Like leaves in the spring, crushed and crystallized. The cat smiled as its tail moved to a lazy curl behind its body. It glanced at sear Halcyn, who was by the door.

And then it spoke.

“We’re alone now, Horace. There are none who listen.”

Halcyn nodded as he stepped away from the door. He approached me, and for the first time in months, a mortal met my eyes. He looked at me. Truly looked. And he saw me, even as I stood in a place where no normal mortal could see.

The prince gave me a thin smile. Wary. Even unfriendly. He placed a hand on his chest and bowed.

He bowed to me.

“I mean no offense, old one,” he said. “But it does not fill me with goodwill to have you eavesdrop on my affairs. What brings you here to my encampment?”

I stared at him.

“You were an immortal this whole time?”

The prince paused, then laughed. He raised a hand and the invisible blades surrounding me disappeared. I released a breath, taking a step back. I eyed him warily as he smiled with genuine amusement.

“You flatter me,” Halcyn said. “But I’m no immortal. I’m merely contracted to one.”

In front of him, the cat scoffed, “You’re contracted to one of the greatest, boy. You accept flattery, but neglect to acknowledge its true target.”

I eyed the cat.

“…And who would that target be, exactly?”

"Manners, little summer tree. They matter much. The one who asks for a Name must give his first. But no, there is no need for that now." The tomcat turned its eyes to me and it smiled its lazy, knowing smile, “I already know your Name. My kin already know its taste.”

He grinned with sharp, sharp teeth.

“You speak to Freyarch Farce of the Fae, Rowan Kindlebright. What brings you to me?”