As we step into the Coil, the shade supplies immediate relief from the heat—or maybe there’s some magic working in here like the sun cloaks. With a relieved sigh, I push my goggles up, and find the others doing the same. Faint lights speckle the ceiling, though it’s hard for me to tell if those are holes in the snake’s hide, or artificial lights. Whatever the cause, it results in a dim twilight, darker than day, but brighter than night. A light level, I realized, designed for both those with, and without, night vision.

The city is like nothing I’ve ever seen.

Our path curves ahead of us and out of sight, like one long covered bazaar. Buildings are built into the sides of the walls and stretch up to the ceiling, some structures bridging the top in overpasses that look down on the streets. At irregular intervals there’s holes carved on the inside wall of the snake’s hide, burrowing into deeper rings of the coil. The streets are full of humans, dhampyrs, arachnoids, and another species I haven’t seen before; they’re green and have pointed teeth and ears, only two to three feet tall. Echo identifies these as goblins. This world just keeps getting stranger.

We stop at the stables the guard directed us to, just within the entrance of the city. Earnest and Xamireb hang back to check Poppy into an enclosure, striking up small-talk with the stablehand. They nod to Darian, remaining behind as the rest of us head deeper into the city.

Away from the entrance, the streets overflow with people, merchants, and smoking stalls displaying racks of mouthwatering grilled meats and plants. Despite the fact that the sun is heading toward noon outside, the city is very much awake and bustling. I wonder if it ever truly sleeps.

We take a passage into one of the inner rings of the city, and the atmosphere abruptly shifts: in place of quick bites and shiny trinkets, there are now closed doors, apothecaries, inns, and craft shops. Darian takes us on a path that straddles the two different specialties, likely looking for something that sells preserved food meant for travel. While we walk, I casually glance at all the people we pass.

Most are armed in some form or another. Swords or knives are strapped to waists, flashing beneath the wearer’s cloaks, and it occurs to me this is largely for show: these are the weapons they’re allowing us to see, intended to send a clear message. As Darian said: a distinct “don’t-fuck-with-me” warning sign. The captain at least carries an obvious sword, but Quell appears unarmed. I drop back behind him so my demon shield is clearly on display.

The Aegis, meanwhile, seems very excited to be here. What is this place? That one has a weapon. Should we fight them? Oh, that one does too! And that one! There are so many targets.

None of them are targets! I mentally hiss.

It’s dangerous to be surrounded by so many armed creatures. But not to fear! The Aegis can swiftly take care of any threat that comes our way.

I roll my eyes. Great. Glad to hear it.

Darian pauses to speak with a merchant, so Quell and I hang back behind her. I keep an eye on our surroundings as Quell swivels his head around in obvious glee.

“This place is amazing, isn’t it?” he says.

“Yeah.” I scan the streets for any signs of dangerous body language or appraising looks. My gaze sticks to a cloaked figure who has glanced Quell’s way. Their eyes find my glare, and they quickly hurry on their way. Some things are universal. “It’s something else.”

Quell is quiet for a moment. “What are you looking for?”

“Trouble.”

“You really think we’ll get into a fight in here?” he asks.

“If we run into some Moonfall soldiers, maybe.”

Quell shakes his head. “Just because tensions have been a little heightened as of late doesn’t mean everyone is champing at the bit to start a war. No one’s going to attack each other on sight.”

I give him a skeptical look. “Including the ones who abducted your sister and tried to abduct you and your brother?”

“You said those were Umbral Blades,” Quell points out. “They’re different. They don’t answer to the throne. I mean, sometimes they do, but they’re an independent organization. Maybe the Moonfall Kings don’t even know about all this. Maybe some other country hired them in order to frame the Moonfall Dynasty.”

“That sounds unnecessarily convoluted for what otherwise has a pretty obvious explanation,” I say.

He folds his arms. “And what is that?”

“Moonfall abducts the monarch’s kids and uses them as leverage to win the war before it even begins.”

The prince frowns at Darian’s back.

“Come on,” I say. “You’re an idealist but you’re not naive.”

Quell sighs, then looks back at me sadly. “Perhaps you're right. I’m just not ready to believe what all this really means. I grew up in an era of peace—tenuous peace, yes, but there was no war. If this really is the beginning of a full-on conflict, it will mean devastation for both our kingdoms. No one wants that. At least, no one should want that. Before we commit to a long and bitter campaign, I have to believe there’s some chance for resolution.”

I can get that. Maybe he’s not as sheltered as I pegged him to be. Just someone trying to find the best outcome in a bad situation. I wonder if that’s part of the reason he’s so set on finding his sister, too. Stopping them before she’s taken into Moonfall territory could potentially prevent the conflict from escalating.

Then again, when the King and Queen find out, this might be what pushes them over the edge no matter what the outcome. And with Constance still marching toward the Lifespring Oasis, their soldiers would be poised for a swift response.

I rub my forehead, grimacing. It’s an ugly, messy situation, and I’m not sure how Quell expects to clean it all up. But I can’t fault him for trying.

Darian finally turns away from the shopkeep. I raise an eyebrow in question, and she shakes her head.

“I’ve a few more establishments on this street I’d like to question, but I think I’ll be more successful alone,” Darian says. “If you two could find somewhere to keep out of the way…”

“Oh!” Quell excitedly points to a shop with the symbol of an ink bottle and quill over the front door. “Stationary! I’m almost out.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I give him a disbelieving look, but Darian waves us on.

“That works,” she says. “Nye, stay close to the… Quell. I should only be a few minutes.”

“Great!” Quell says. “I’ll be quick as well.” Then he hurries over to the store like a kid at a candy shop. Why do I feel like he won’t actually be quick?

Aside from the food stalls in the marketplace, this is the first real business I’ve seen since landing on this planet. And it feels weirdly familiar. I don’t know why I’d expected it to feel alien—aside from this being an alien planet, basically—but it has that same dusty library smell, that same sort of cozy bookstore half-light. The walls are covered with shelves displaying all sorts of inks, quills, and scrolls; notebooks and binders, ledgers and wax and seals. I glance at the labels, and for one disorienting moment, I’m seeing strange symbols and shapes. Then my vision seems to snap into focus, and the words have meaning, and I’m reading them as clearly as if they were the alphabet I’d grown up with.

But they’re not. They’re definitely a completely different language, and somehow, I can understand it.

And that’s when another realization crashes into me: I’m speaking a different language. Everyone is. And I can understand them. How? I only know Spanish and English. Why can I understand this weird fantasy language? Why didn’t I even notice until I paused to actively think about it? I narrow my eyes at the writing on the shelf: I can see the word “ink.” But when I focus, when I try to look through the meaning, the actual foreign symbols slowly shift into place. I lean back, blinking and reeling at this revelation. Just what is this magic doing to my mind? What else haven’t I seen, because I haven’t looked close enough?

“Hey.” Quell touches my arm, and I jump. “You okay? You looked really focused. Or mad. I can’t really tell with your face.”

I frown. “What’s wrong with my face?”

“Nothing!” he quickly says. “Just, you know. You always look annoyed.”

“Probably because I am.” I gesture to the armful of clutter he’s already managed to gather in his arms. Somehow in the thirty seconds or so we’ve been in here, he’s managed to gather bottles of ink, quills, wrapped charcoal, and stacks of paper bound with twine. “We’re on a dangerous mission. Is all this really necessary right now?”

“Of course it is,” Quell says. “I need to send a letter to my parents informing them of the situation. Constance probably has as well, but… well, he might have left out some details to save face.”

“Like the fact that you ran away,” I say flatly.

He smiles guiltily.

Isn’t he taking this seriously at all? “Why are you so chipper? We should be out looking for signs of your sister, not going on a shopping trip. You can’t care more about fancy papers and pens than her.”

His smile sputters out. “I don’t see that there’s much I could do, aside from ‘keeping out of the way,’ as Darian so aptly put it.”

I give him a skeptical look. “You’re the one that insisted on chasing her down and joining this mission.”

“I know,” he says shortly, frustration flickering over his face. Then he slumps. Despite him being a head taller than me, he suddenly seems very small. “I know. I just thought—I don’t know. I thought I could do something. Anything. But even my ability to track Liz is redundant with Xamireb here.”

He drifts over to a different wall that has an assortment of feather pens on display. He looks into the glass instead of at me. “Our brother has always been focused on the big picture. Even as a kid, he was all about duty and country. Perhaps being the first does that to you. The knowledge and weight of what you’ll one day be responsible for.” He shakes his head. “Without that same obligation, Liz and I had more freedom to do as we pleased. We were close. Partners in crime—well, I covered for her antics, at any rate. So when Constance once again went off to put the big picture first, I knew I had to be there for Liz. I had to do everything in my power to find her. She’d do the same for me.” He laughs sadly. “I guess everything in my power is still nothing. I’ve just been dead weight. But what else is new?”

I grimace. Maybe I’m being too hard on the guy. I can’t say I’d do any different in his situation. Sometimes you have to put yourself out there, even if you don’t know what you have to offer. Who hasn’t gotten in the way of themselves where family is concerned?

“You’re not dead weight,” I say with a sigh.

He glances skeptically at me over the rim of his glasses. The look pulls a laugh out of me.

“You aren’t,” I repeat. “If we hadn’t gone after Darian, she and the twins would have been left stranded out in the middle of the desert without a star drake or most of their supplies. So congrats: your poor decision-making unintentionally saved the mission.”

His eyebrows lift. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.” He seems to process this for a moment, then his expression softens into a small smile. “Thanks. I’ve just been so worried about Liz, and was starting to wonder if I messed up and was getting in the way again, and if it would be my fault if she—” He stops himself, shaking his head. “Well, I’ve just been worried. So, again, thank you. I needed to hear that.”

Aw, man. Of course he’s ladened with guilt and self-doubt. And I’ve been nothing but an ass to him this whole time, haven’t I? I grimace.

“No, I—I’m sorry,” I say haltingly. Shit, I’m not good at this touchy-feely stuff. It's too uncomfortable to maintain eye contact with Quell, so I end up looking at the same pen display he’d been watching before. “I shouldn’t have bit your head off a minute ago. That was uncalled for. And, I guess, sorry for all the other times I’ve been giving you the cold shoulder. I’ve, uh, just been worried about my brother, too, though I guess that’s not a great excuse. Anyway, I get how you feel, but none of this is your fault.”

When I risk a look back, he looks genuinely touched. It’s almost comical how easy he is to read. This guy would be terrible at Poker. Oh no, is he misting up?

“So you need all this writing junk just to send a letter to your parents?” I ask, deciding to bull my way into a safer subject.

Quell graciously lets me. “It’s not junk,” he says, heading over to the counter to lay out the supplies. “And, okay, no, not all of it is necessary. But it’s not every day I get to try out stationary from the other end of the Kingdom! This ink is made from distilled asp venom, did you know?”

“Really?” I smile faintly at his enthusiasm. He already seems to be back to his excited, scholarly self. “Huh. Maybe it’s not useless after all. Think it still has any of its venomous properties?”

Quell looks aghast. “I would rather not like to find out!”

“Too bad,” I say. “It would bring a new meaning to the pen being mightier than the sword.”

Quell’s eyes light up. “Oh! Good phrase. I like that.” He fishes some coin out of his pocket, and I surreptitiously step between him and the door, just in case there’s any wandering eyes looking to size up the prince’s coin pouch.

“But the rest are necessary,” Quell continues. “As I previously mentioned, I intend to send some letters home, which is why I need all the welkin paper.”

I tip my head. “The what?”

Quell hands over the payment without even trying to barter first, and I wince.

“Welkin paper.” He offers a stack of papers to me. “Infused with air arcana and branded with a homing spell. After I finish writing my letter, it will fold itself up and fly to the location of my bidding.”

I bounce the papers in my hands. It barely feels like I’m holding anything at all. “That’s pretty handy,” I admit. “Are they waterproof, too?”

“Ah, no,” Quell says, gathering up the rest of his supplies. I take pity on him and grab a couple bottles to lighten his load. “They’d pretty much disintegrate in water, unfortunately. One of its drawbacks, in addition to having no defensive capabilities, if a reaper or bird of prey might happen to take interest in it. Luckily, it hardly ever rains, and welkin letters are very agile.” After a moment of pause, he adds, “Even so, it’s usually a good idea to send multiple copies for a long-distance journey like this one.”

Seems like a lot of trouble just to send a letter. Though given the remote location of the Coil, I don’t suppose there are many courier options.

It’s been a few minutes, so I let Quell lead us back out into the market. Darian’s armored form is not far down the lane, already heading in our direction. Guess she hasn’t found the information she’s looking for, yet. I wonder how fruitful this whole endeavor will be. Running into a couple of soldiers and one captive in a large city is a needle-in-a-haystack type situation. And that’s assuming they’re even still here. But I’m not about to voice that aloud and dash Quell’s newly rekindled hope.

“Oh!” Quell stops so suddenly, I nearly bowl him over.

“What is it?” I ask.

He’s staring at the ground. “I found something. Here, hold these—” He dumps all his supplies into my arms before I can object, then bends down to pick something up.

I peer around his shoulder. “A rock?”

Quell holds it up for me to see, then turns his hand around. Like a card trick, the rock becomes a gold bracelet.

“It belongs to Liz.”