Kayden the Bright. Who was he? Soldier, mage, emperor, myth? It can be difficult to untangle the man from the legend. Over a thousand years later, we are no closer to restoring the full picture of what happened during the War of Burning Heavens. Too many records were destroyed. What remains are either accounts written by the victors or the testimonies of bitter immortals whose memory is not immune to the depredations of time.

How can any real faith be put into those stories, then? I see it in your eyes. Doubt. You’re full of it. You younglings have just embarked on the path of the arcane. You know only enough to start disbelieving the fantastical feats attributed to the Heroes and Demons of Old. Can an entire forest be made to walk with one word? Can the elements be given thoughts and bend to the will of mortal men? Can the living be warped into alien creatures of war? Can the soul become like dough, to be fragmented and shaped anew? Could one man, though wielding a blessed blade, truly cleave an entire continent in twain?

It may sound impossible. I know. I was like you once, discovering how to crawl and believing I understood what it meant to run. In time, you too will know the length of the path you now tread on.

However, younglings, if your disbelief, inquisitiveness, or impatience is too strong, I encourage you to make the journey west. Travel to the heart of the Spine, to the edge of the empire. Lay your eyes on Shamsi’s Wall entombing the Eternal Gaol. Feel the wrongness in the air. Feel the inner workings of the world grind against one another like misaligned rusty gears. Feel the very fabric of reality tearing from the aftershocks of spells unleashed aeons ago by those at the terrible peak of mortal power. Talk to the retired Sentinels, those who lived and retained their minds, and those who lost their reason.

Then, you’ll know… Then you’ll know.

—a lesson introduction from Bartholomew Mewson, lich and Professor of Magic History at the Imperial University for Applied Thaumaturgy, 1102 AK.

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Remembrance 1, 2497 AK, Radiant Empire, Cleft Isles, Greyport.

The setting sun bathed Greyport in flaming colours. Already, the inhabitants congested Main Street and the central square, crowding the wooden stalls which no longer sat empty. Echoes of the kindling festivities were spreading fast through the town. After twelve months of waiting, the Founder’s Festival had come around, and the moods soared high and cheerful.

In an offshoot of Main Street, however, just far enough that the sounds of merriment remained muffled for now, one person’s emotions ran much dourer.

“How many times do I need to say this?! I. Don’t. Want. To. Go!”

Kaydence was throwing a tantrum.

As a negotiation tactic, this was one she preferred to avoid because it made her feel like the child she hated to be. However, she was distraught and anguished, and the flimsy arguments she was willing to put forward were not swaying the woman in front of her.

“Sweetie–”

“No! This whole festival is absurd, stupid, and I want no part in it! In the first place, why should I have to waste my evening suffocating in the crowd to keep company to a mute dullard and that pissy wimp boy?!”

“Tha-That was one t-t-time!” Sarmin stuttered indignantly, cheeks red in embarrassment.

“Fuck off.” Kaydence snapped a glare at him, sending the Half-Elf retreating behind his father’s back. Lenril shot Kaydence an unreadable look. “What? Got something to say­– Oh… Wait.”

“Kaydence. Enough. There’s no need for that kind of behaviour.” Annet’s tone was gentle as ever, but there was a rare tension in her face. She also addressed Kaydence directly by her actual name—no Sweetheart, Sweetie, Treasure, or any other endeared goofiness. She only did so when genuinely upset, which happened scarcely enough to be notable. Kaydence hated to have brought out that part of her, but she kept her expression stubbornly unyielding.

Annet met her red glare squarely. “I know you don’t like it, but you’re going anyway because Lenril has trouble with crowds, and he needs an extra pair of eyes and ears on Sarmin.”

“That brat’s older than me!”

Her mother looked unimpressed. Both knew that argument was hardly relevant. “I thought we agreed you’d try and be nicer to him.”

“Being nicer is one thing.” Kaydence ground her teeth. “I did not sign up to be a damn nanny!” In the corner of her eyes, she noticed Lenril stepping away with his son. They moved to a few houses down the street, leaving mother and daughter alone on the porch of the One-Eyed Bear.

Ready for work, Annet was decked in her full waitress regalia, her bushy brown curls tied with a yellow bow and arms crossed authoritatively over her bodice. Kaydence, in the same pants and short-sleeved tunic she wore regardless of seasons, towered over her petite mother, her bared forearm muscles alarmingly tense. She was breathing heavily, and her red eyes gleamed dangerously through her wild raven hair. Anyone witnessing the scene would have feared for the brunette’s safety, but Annet herself did not look worried, only annoyed and disappointed.

Silence stretched uncomfortably between the two.

After a moment contemplating her daughter’s stiff posture, Annet’s own expression softened. “Sweetie… I understand you’re not fond of the festival,” she repeated, lifting a hand to cup Kaydence’s cheek. “But Sarmin loves it, and I’m worried for his safety if it’s just him and Ril. It would really ease my mind knowing you’re with them.”

Kaydence turned away from the touch, averting her gaze to glare at the tavern wall. “That’s not fair…”

I’m worried about your safety! She wanted to scream. But she held back. How could she properly express the mixture of fury and confusion—the sheer panic—that had seized her upon discovering that spying spell on her at the bathhouse? So many of her fears were intrinsically tied to things she could not afford to let come to light. She kept too many harmful secrets to offer any justification that made sense.

When she tried to figure out the mysterious mage’s motives or his potential affiliation, Kaydence only grew more confused. The Inquisition was her first guess, but the attempt felt too clumsy, too opportunistic for the notorious mage hunters of the empire. Somehow, that half-heartedness only amplified her anxiety. That bastard came at me when I was with my family! What did he want? What did he know? Was it meant as a warning? Her thoughts were tied in knots, looking for traps and misdirections from every angle.

In all of Kaydence’s brooding predictions about her secrets one day spilling like old festered wounds and infecting everyone around her, she had never expected someone might approach her casually in broad daylight and all but openly challenge her. Balancing her urge to retaliate, severely and violently, with the need to defend her mother, Kaydence felt like a wild animal running circles in a too-small cage: trapped, impotent, and questioning how things got to that point.

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“I don’t see why you have to work on the first night of the festival, anyway,” Kaydence threw out lamely, out of ideas. If at least Annet accompanied them, Kaydence would be far less reluctant to endure the sight of countless strangers drinking to her demise. Again, not that she disagreed with the general sentiment, but it was unpleasant nonetheless.

“It’s because it’s the first night, silly.” Annet patted her daughter’s cheek with a smile. “I already had last night off. Grizelda may be kind, but she has a business to run. Now go have fun with Sarmin and Lenril.” She produced a small pouch clinking with the sound of coins. “Here’s your allowance for tonight. Pick me something nice at one of the stalls.”

Kaydence reflexively took the pouch. She spilt the handful of copper coins in her palm and glared at them, picturing the tired grin of the Air mage, Gabriel, in place of the stern glower of Makthar, the emperor before the current one’s father.

“I don’t–”

“She’s still not gone?” A drawling voice joined the conversation as Erza dipped out of the tavern. The tall redhead casually draped her arm over Annet’s shoulders and smirked at Kaydence. “Don’t you worry, cub. We’ll be watching over this one. Very closely.” Her salacious grin was not the most reassuring, but some of Kaydence’s worries reluctantly started to fade.

If nothing else, Kaydence could at least take solace in the fact her mother would be in the safest place she could think of besides locking the woman in a vault and swallowing the key. The Southey family would rip any mage to shreds before letting him harm Annet, and then Griselda would serve him as ragout to the customers. Maybe not that last one, Kaydence mused. However, it was a fact some of the city’s most notorious thugs had disappeared after messing with the tavern’s waitresses.

Unaware of Kaydence’s thoughts, Erza waved her off nonchalantly. “Come on. You kids go and have fun. You only get to be young once.”

“…” Kaydence stared back silently, never quite knowing how to react when people whom she saw as kids treated her as one. Scorn, she could handle. Playful patronising, she had more trouble with.

“Great idea, Sis! I’ll bring you back some foreign liquors from the vendors.” Bernt suddenly tried to squeeze past the three women blocking the doorway, only to be caught by the back of his collar. “Bleh!”

“Who said you, dumbass?” Erza yanked her younger brother back roughly. “Mum needs you to do the washing-up.”

“Zaza, please… I promised this girl I’d meet her at the bonfire.”

“Well, too bad for her. If I can’t go out, you sure as hell won’t.” The older Southey sibling huffed. “She can do better anyway.”

“You don’t even know who she is!”

“I know you,” Erza snorted. “Now get back to work!” She shoved Bernt back through the door and rolled her eyes affectionately. “This guy… This is why I never want kids.”

“Aw,” Annet giggled. “It’s not that bad.”

“Coming from you, Freckles, that’s scary for several reasons,” Erza drawled, shooting Kaydence a side glance, which she returned with a glare.

The two eyeballed each other for a moment before Kaydence sighed and pocketed the money her mother gave her. “Fine… I’ll play nanny for the twig. But don’t leave the tavern before I come to pick you up, especially not with that guy we met this morning.”

Erza raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Pointy got competition? And here I thought I was starting to win you over, Freckles.”

“Don’t be silly. It’s nothing like that.” Annet slapped the redhead’s shoulder playfully. Then she pinched Kaydence’s cheek. “Is that why you’re acting so weird? Oh, Sweetie. You’ve got to give your old mother more credit. I’m not so reckless as to go off into the night with any random stranger.” Her freckled grin turned mischievous. “Even if they’re handsome, polite, humble, witty, and I wouldn’t mind knowing them better… or more.”

“Mother!” Kaydence gasped.

“Oh, shush. You only call me mum at times like these,” Annet pouted while Erza cackled like a madwoman. “Don’t act so stuffy, Sweetie. You sound like Gran. Your mother is also a woman, you know?”

“That’s right, Red. Listen to your mum,” Erza snickered, using the shorter woman’s head to rest her cheek. “No shame in having some fun.”

“That’s not what I– I didn’t mean– Blasted, woman! How did the conversation turn to that?!” Kaydence repressed a blush.

Erza shook her head. “Seriously, Freckles, how did a girl like you raise a prude like that?”

“Who’re you calling a prude, you loose wench?!” Kaydence was not in the mood to endure the redhead’s usual aggressive taunting tonight.

Likely sensing her daughter’s temper flaring, Annet smiled up at the tall woman. “Please don’t antagonise her… Zaza.”

An unpleasant, full-body shiver ran up Erza’s body, her grin dropping into a grimace. “I wished you hadn’t heard that… Don’t ever call me that again, and you got yourself a deal. I don’t need another cheeky sibling.”

“...Putting the lustful brute aside,” Kaydence started, forcing her anger down.

“What!? You’re one to talk, hypocritical little sh–”

“Zaza~” Annet singsonged.

“Ugh… Fine. Whatever.” Erza pouted as if her favourite toy had just been taken away. “But I want to hear about that mysterious man.”

“It’s nothing serious–”

“He accosted us this morning at the bathhouse and invited Annet to dine out within five sentences before even confirming she was unwed.” Kaydence was grossly simplifying the interaction, but she was not above using Erza’s possessive protectiveness to her advantage. I guess I really am a hypocrite.

“Did he now?” Erza’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“He did.” Kaydence cut off her mother’s protest, glad something was finally going her way, even if not in the manner she would have preferred.

Her most preferred method had the mage dead at the bottom of the Split. But until she knew more about this ‘Gabriel’ and the people who might be behind him, straight-up murder seemed like an impulsive move. The old Seifer in her would have done it anyway, but Kaydence wanted to at least try to act more responsibly in this life. With that in mind, her initial plan had been to arrange a meeting with the mage, as he had himself offered, and see what he was about. In the meantime, she would stick to her mother’s side like a barnacle on a ship’s hull.

Of course, now, the woman Kaydence was so anxious to protect seemed intent on sending her daughter away. Kaydence could not repress a frustrated sigh. But then, this has been the case since day one, hasn’t it? The reincarnated warlock’s original plan for his new life involved ditching his new unwanted family as soon as he took his bearings in this new era.

Caring so much for this silly, reckless girl who became her new mother was never part of Kaydence’s plan.

Yet here she was, nearly a decade later, still putting off her departure and worrying about disregarding her mother’s wishes, even for the woman’s own safety—fearing her stubborn attitude might arouse Annet’s suspicion, leading her to secrets Kaydence was desperate to keep buried. The former Dragon Demon King cared not whether the whole world scorned her, but at some point, the possibility that Annet might start looking at her in fear had joined Kaydence’s worst nightmares.

“I see…” Erza nodded to herself. “I’ll tell Mum and the oaf to be extra careful about suspicious characters for the time being.”

“You do that.”

Again, Annet tried to protest. “There’s really no need to–”

“Come on, Freckles.” Ignoring her, the redhead started to turn around, her arm still around Annet’s shoulders, ushering her inside. “Your clingy demonling won’t leave while she has you within eyesight.” She ignored Kaydence’s glare just as much.

The reincarnated warlord was getting annoyed at people brushing off her warning looks. A mere glance from Seifer used to send hardened warriors cowering, even before he went off the deep, genocidal end. However, as it turned out, silent glaring did not intimidate quite as well without an eight-foot-tall frame, a reputation for invincibility, and a known history of brutal slaughter. But do I want to be that person again? Kaydence’s hand went to her aching stomach, machinally tracing the phantom wound that bisected her old body.

Do I know how to be anything else?

“Gods, you two…” Annet sighed indulgently and let herself be led inside, glancing over her shoulder. “See you later, Sweetie. Do try to have fun, alright?”

“Sure.” Kaydence blinked. “Ah! No, wait–” The tavern door closed in her face. “…dammit.” She groaned in frustration and looked down the road at the waiting one-and-a-half Elves.

Impassive as ever, Lenril shifted his fingers in the approximation of, “We good to go?”

Kaydence sighed and ruffled her messy hair angrily. “Argh! Fine… Fine!” She started stomping her way to them.

In fact, this might be an opportunity. Should I give the knife-ear the slip and go hunt down that bastard myself? Kaydence’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Then the weight of the coins in her pocket reminded itself to her, and her feral bloodthirst deflated to a more middling murderous itch. I guess… It couldn’t hurt to check out the stalls. She clicked her tongue. That woman. Does she plan ahead, or just make it all up on the spot…?

Kaydence walked past Lenril and Sarmin, barely slowing down while gesturing for them to get going. She still would need to find an excuse to leave on her own later. She had personal business to attend to tonight, and staying by Annet’s side had been the only reason why she had given up on it. However, for the time being, she could spare a few hours to play nanny and suffer through this ridiculous farce of a festival…

…about just long enough to find a small gift for a silly, reckless woman.

* * * * *