Where on Aurum did those two go off to!? Mal's thoughts raced as she hurried along the oaken streets, retracing her steps for the third time. Ten minutes - just ten minutes, and they've vanished. She had hoped Landry or Orryn might've found a lead on the Canopy, but now she was the one searching for them.

As she rounded the corner, the cries of a small crowd at the foot of a quaint stage caught her attention. They were knelt down, their foreheads to the ground, praising as they did so; "Oh Great Father!" They cried, "You have chosen two to join you above already! We will miss them, but eagerly await for our turn!" These people must be mad. There couldn't have been more than thirty people, some wore tattered garbs, others wore work clothes and some even wore colourful garments of an exquisite quality. The only thing they all shared, besides being knelt in front of the stage, was that they all head a silver chain with a pendant of a tree hanging at the bottom.

It reminded her of some of the beliefs her own people had in the old elvish clans before she ended up in Morden. This seemed different though. It's extreme... These poor fools. She shook her head, trying to shake off the distraction. The spiralling street in front of her had several market stalls lining the edges, with the buildings above perilously hanging over to form a jagged arch-way. One of the larger stalls had a particularly stumpy man stood atop a stool polishing off a necklace. However, as he turned his head he caught sight of her, a sly smile growing on his face as he called her over. Amazing. An imp.

"You! Over here!" He called out, beckoning her with the repeated bending of his stubby finger.

She huffed, blowing a stray strand of black hair out of her face and quickly made her way over to the jeweller's stand.

"What do you want?" She asked bluntly, looking the man up and down. Although there wasn't much of him in either direction.

The man chuckled, "I'd be short-fused if my other half was cheap as well."

She narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about?" But the flush creeping up her neck betrayed her growing irritation.

"The lad you were with," he winked, sending a shiver down her spine, "Wouldn't even hear an offer for a ring."

Her face burned. She stammered as she shook her head, "No, it's not like that." With a nervous laugh, "Him? Don't be ridiculous." Which one is he talking about? No, it doesn't matter. They're both... Idiots.

The jeweller shook his head, "Whatever you say, darlin'." Darling? Who does he think he is? She bit her lip, before letting out a breath.

"Did you see where he went?"

"Funny enough, I did." He tapped his chin, "For a price."

"Pardon?" Her fists clenched in her coat pockets, knuckles whitening.

"You heard me, little lady." He licked his lips, "Nothing's free in Virevale-" The man was quickly interrupted by the immense pain he was suddenly experiencing in his wrist. This unassuming elf girl had it bent in a way it was not designed to go, her eyes ablaze in anger.

"You think I'm going to pay for you to talk?" She hissed, her voice like acid. The man's face was red with pain, as he huffed and puffed to keep himself from passing out.

"You crazy stray, just wait until I-I-" His wrist was rotated even more, "Ah! Please!"

A soft satisfied smile melted across Mal's lips, her brow arching, "What? I'm not your darling anymore?" She'd pull the man over the table top, knocking off countless pieces of jewellery as she did so, "What a shame."

"I don't know where he is!" The man cried, tears streaming down his plump face, "He wanted directions!" He blurted out, "To the Canopy!"

"And what'd you tell him? Where'd he go?" Her impatience was rising like a lump in her throat. Sleazy con-artist probably set him up. "Well?"

"He went off to talk to those crazy Church loons!" He winced in pain, "Please, let me go!"

"Keep going, then we'll see." Her tone was like a heated knife, almost hurting as much as the burning in his wrist.

"The O-Order of the Evergreen!" He coughed, "He went over when they were preaching and that's the last I saw of him! Swear!"

"Where those folks are kneeling on the ground?"

The jeweller nodded his head frantically, gasping in relief after Mal released his wrist. At least a dozen people had been looking at the whole scene play out, although they didn't seem particularly bothered and were rather entranced by it. Doesn't have many friends, does he? Can't say I'm surprised. Reaching into a pouch on her belt, she pulled out a common bronze mote and tossed the coin over to the crutched over man, "For your trouble," she whispered with a wink. With a grumble the man hopped off his footstool, holding his arm close to his chest and began picking up the fallen jewellery.

"I won't forget this, you know." He spat, a revulsion in his gaze as he looked up at her.

"Good," she snarled, matching the man's aggression, "Otherwise I'd have to remind you."

Before the sleazy jeweller had a chance to open his mouth for a response, Mal had turned on her heel and made her way over to the stage. Unfortunately, during the little time she had spent interrogating, the people who had once been gathered on their knees in front of it had dispersed and disappeared into the bustling crowds that squeezed past each other in the skinny roads. She groaned loudly. She was tired, and her ankles ached from her panicked patrols previously. But she shook her head, denying herself the right to take a break. Those two could be in trouble. I just need to find someone with one of the pendants I saw.

However, the streets had gotten rather chaotic and even though she could try to find a pendant on someone, they soon disappeared into the constantly shifting mass of everyone else walking past. That was one thing she did miss about Renna - at least the Elduirian cities had wide roads - plenty of space.

I need to see properly. As she looked around for a possible vantage point, the only possible places to stand she could see were the market stalls. Unfortunately, they all had cloth tarps rather than solid roofs. That crosses that off the list. Turning around, she bent her neck to look up at the tall buildings behind her that lined the street. They were the only thing that would give her enough height, but she didn't fancy her chances clutching onto the skinny ledges and grooves that were on their exterior.

Walking up to it, she laid her hand flat against it. Too smooth to climb. Yet she had little other choice. Leaning back, she turned her view in either direction in case somebody was looking at her; everybody else was far too focussed on squeezing past everybody else. For once, her luck was looking up.

I need to be discreet, she reminded herself as she took in a deep breath and splayed her hands parallel from one another. Her fingers were trembling, her nerves always trying to get the best of her before she could cast a spell. Her mind raced, going through the mental notes she had taken whilst studying magic, trying to find the right words or incantation. The correct command.

"Vaelthïr," she began to murmur, as her fingertips started to softly glow. The true meaning echoing in her mind: weave. "Thrynn," magic. "Ae," as. "Luveal," light. Slowly, the glow spread from her fingertips and encapsulated her hands entirely. Fine luminescent threads, shifting in all the colours one could imagine, spread from each fingertip and connected to the corresponding finger. She was ready to weave.

She moved her fingers quickly, weaving the different strands of thread in and around each other in what would have looked like a random manner to an outside observer. However, it was a meticulously specific pattern, one wrong movement and she'd make a mistake. Best case scenario, she has to start again. Worst case, she casts a spell she doesn't know the incantation for. Yet in the realms of weaving, this one wasn't overly complicated. In the end, she's left with a strange symbol held between her hands, it looked like a rune or glyph that was melting or that had been set ablaze.

She let out a breath, relief washed over her. This was short-lived, she was only half-way there. Once again, she was trying to remember the right words.

She whispered the starting phrase,"Vaelthïr," causing the strands to vibrate slowly. "Zeryth," fire. "Ir," within. "Xilaen," hand. The threads snapped and vanished into her fingertips. Damn it! Frustration boiled in her chest. I should've practiced my Arcanth more. She rested her forehead against the smooth wood, feeling its coolness against her heated skin. A quiet failure.

The sound of quiet crackling soothed her though and began to calm her down. The smell of a campfire, probably close by reminded her of her childhood. Not her real one, her one spent in Morden. She could almost imagine her and Landry still, always sat by the campfire and cooking whatever rodent or other unlucky creature they were able to catch. It was a bad childhood, but she was a child at the time. Everything seemed so much simpler then. Then she realised. When exactly had that crackling started? Wait? What is that? She looked around, what could have possibly been causing it? And a campfire? In a massive wooden city? Looking down, she saw what it really was.

Her fingers were on fire. Shrouded in golden flames, and producing a small amount of smoke.

She smiled, despite herself. Finally! Taking a look around once more, she turned back to the wall and rose her hands just above her head. Slowly, she pressed her fingers into the wood, it's quiet hissing creating a sense of accomplishment. She used her other hand to reach higher, creating grips for herself in the charred remains of the wood. She pulled herself up, a struggle to be sure but once she was high enough she quickly released her lower hand and thrust it into the wood. What was left behind were like blackened moulds of her fingers, five small holes like footsteps. She turned her head, she could see over the crowd but not directly the people within. I need to go... Higher.

She looked up, a sweat building on the back of her neck. Excitement had brought her up this far, and as she looked down she was only a few foot off the ground. She held herself close to the wall, slowing her breathing down. Get a grip. She forced her hand out of the crevice it made, reaching up to pull herself even higher. She didn't dare look down. Again. And again. She was in a rhythm, each second getting higher. It was easy when she imagined herself crawling, just like she did through tight spaces in Morden. Keep your eyes on the prize. That's what Varick always used to say. The footsteps of the people below got a little fainter, and she realised she was probably high enough. I can't. I need to get down.

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Her breathing quickened as she looked at her route down, but that was her mistake. A gasp escaped her lips as vertigo gripped her. Pressing herself against the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut. I didn't mean to go so high. When she dared to look again, the ground was far below—three stories at least. Her fingers trembled, though they were all that held her aloft. Squinting her eyes, she scanned each person that looked somewhat familiar, which wasn't much to go off of.

Luckily for her, she was able to spot the shine of a pendant not far from her. It hung from the small neck of a young boy running around the street, but he easily could have been part of the crowd that she saw before. She sighed, knowing it was her time to get moving again.

She focussed, the words appearing in her mind once more.

"Zeryth," she began, "Tyru..." Power. She mumbled, an uncertainty in her tone, "Xyrrin!" Greater.

At once, the fire around her fingers grew in size and burned with a greater ferocity, the heat wafting against her face. As it did so, she began to slide down the wall as she melted away the wood, almost as if she were sliding down a wall made of snow. The black smoke produced choked her, causing her to quietly cough into her scarf. As her feet met the floor, she quickly pulled her hands away from the wood.

"Can't imagine they'll be pleased when they see that..." She looked, the charred lines like a long slash of a beasts claw. As she looked down at her hands, she spoke the closing phrase, "Vaelyn." Settle. As commanded, the fire around her fingers began to die down, leaving only black soot engrained. Knowing Landry, he's probably annoyed the wrong person. He has a knack for that.

"Perfect..." She grumbled sarcastically, wiping them on her long dark blue coat, smearing it across. It didn't help her fingers though; you could barely see her pale skin beneath.

As she made her way through the crowd, the screams of a woman behind her filled the air.

"No!" she cried, falling to her knees as Mal looked back, "Someone has tortured Ys'thule with fire!" Her sobs caught the attention of many strangers, but worrying to Mal were the two guards who had just happened to be on patrol at the time. They ran over to look, taking off their helmets in horror as they gazed up at the sight.

"How could this have happened in broad daylight?" The younger of the two spoke, his voice breaking as he was close to tears.

His older colleague reassuringly patted him on the back, "We'll catch the traitor." He growled, "Only a sorcerer could commit such sacrilege in broad daylight!" He pulled his helmet over his bald head and unsheathed his sword, yelling, "Everyone! This is a crime scene! Anyone who was about will be kept for questioning!" His voice was brimming with rage, a rage that surprised Mal. They really love their tree, don't they?

She stopped, looking around at the horrified faces of everyone around in surprise. That was only when she realised, that to these people what she'd just done was something akin to attempted murder of their god, or at the very least their home. She hadn't stopped to think. Impulse had carried her. What was I thinking? Two days with those two, and I'm already losing my wits. With a heavy sigh, she blended in well. Only she wasn't upset because the tree was mutilated, or even that she was the one that did it. It was the effect it had on everyone else, the sadness that infected her also. For the first time since she had been in the city, everyone was still. Standing like soldiers at attention.

"Go get one of the Evergreens down here, boy." The older man ordered, to which the younger one quickly wiped his tears, pulled on his helmet and set off running down the street. Rather than stay still, and have her soot-covered fingers give her away, Mal was slyly slivering between the crowd, the people too shocked to notice her brush against them. Her chest pounded, she hadn't realised the true brevity of what she'd done. Nevertheless, she knew she had to find Orryn and Landry. Were they kidnapped? Did they abandon me? He wouldn't do that. Not again.

As she got further from the enraged guard, she could hear him begin loudly asking questions to whoever had been closest to him. Where did that kid go? Just as she looked back at what was occurring behind her, she saw the same stumpy jeweller she had interrogated earlier. The guardsman was bent over with him whispering in his ear, before he looked at Mal directly and pointed at her. That conniving worm!

She whipped her head back around and went off running, to which the guardsman quickly stood up straight and began to chase after her. It was difficult manoeuvring for the both of them on account of all the people in the way, but Mal was smaller and more agile. The guardsman on the other hand was an older man, brawny as well. He breathed heavily as he ran, each footstep heavy against the hard wood. It didn't help his cause the fact that he was wearing plate armour, a bronze cuirass the highlight. His barbute helmet felt like a cage around his head, his mouth, nose and brow pressed against the small T-shaped gap that allowed him to see and breathe.

Mal gained a decent distance from the man, losing sight of him completely behind the wall of bodies, but she saw someone else in front of her she was pleased to see. It was the boy, with a head of messy red hair and the pendant hung loosely around his neck. He couldn't have been any older than eight, which was fortunate. Young children tend to tell the truth.

Pushing against the ground with greater haste, she accelerated down the road before grabbing the corner of a building and pulling herself into a skinny alley-way. Did I lose him? She knelt down to the ground and pressed the side of her body against the wall, hoping to conceal herself from anybody passing by. There were a few moments of inconspicuous chatter from the folk on the roads, until the loud clunking footsteps of the guard got louder and louder. He passed the alley, only to stop a few metres away. By coincidence, he had stopped in front of the boy with the pendant.

"Did you see a black-haired woman run by here?" He slid off his helmet, spitting out a large glob of saliva onto the street.

The boy looked up at him, about to speak but the sight of Mal poking her head out of the alley way caught his eye. She tilted her head, slowly pressing her index finger against her lips in a plea for him to stay quiet. The boy smiled softly, looking up at the guard.

"Well?" He fumed, wiping a large patch of sweat with his puffy sleeve.

The boy looked up, pointing his finger further down the road.

With a loud groan, and several oaths spoken under his breath, the guard slipped his helmet back on and took off running. The boy turned his head back to Mal, giving her a reassuring wave. Finally... Someone nice. She beckoned him over with a rushed wave of her hand causing him to run over just in front of the entrance to the alley way.

"Ys'thule guide you!" He beamed, creating a sort of arrow head shape with his hands. Oh, I see. It's a tree. Mal realised this was obviously some common local greeting, so out of respect and a rising guilt for what she did earlier, she reciprocated it.

"Ys'thule guide you as well." She smiled softly, trying her best to make the same shape he had.

"Why were you running from the guard?" The boy asked plainly, before whispering, "Did you break the law?" His voice was full of his child-like curiosity, no thoughts about what this stranger could do to him.

Mal smiled. Can't tell him the truth. "No, he just mistook me for someone else." She leant in, pointing at his pendant, "Now, that's a really nice necklace."

The boys smile only grew, revealing his teeth. Most of them. He lacked his two front teeth, but he'd probably grow them in later. "Thank you! It's my seal from Ys'thule himself!"

"Were you part of that crowd earlier? Kneeling in front of the stage, I mean."

"I was! How'd you know that?" His head tilted to match hers.

"A lucky guess." She cleared her throat, looking down either direction of the street as she did so, "I'm looking for my... Friends. One's blond with a white robe, the other has reddish brown hair and was wearing a red cloak."

The boy gasped, "You know the Chosen?" His mouth fell agape in wonder, "Did Ys'thule send you as well?"

"...The Chosen?" What did they get themselves into? "Yes, Ys'thule sent me. Wants me to find those two, did you see where they went?"

The boy nodded quickly, before slowly shaking his head, "The Evergreens took them up." Reaching out his arm, he pointed up. Well at least they've gone where we need to go. Sort of. "Said Ys'thule chose them both and so they snagged 'em." He laughed, his high-pitch chuckles ringing in her ear. Snagged?

"What's going to happen to them up top?"

The boy shrugged, before turning around in a sprint. Charming. She watched as he disappeared into the crowd, who still hadn't moved. She was about to leave the alley way when she heard the cascade of several heavy footsteps. Poking her head out, she caught sight of what it was. A platoon of guards who were on their way to the crime scene like a stampede of thrumhorns. Perfect!

"Keep an eye out for the magician, men!" A gruff voice yelled, "Reports of an elf with black hair." They'll know it's me if they see me. She ducked back into the alley, only to freeze when the cold press of steel kissed her nose.

"Hello, stranger." A young man chimed from the other end of the blade, a satisfied look on his face. It was the young guard from before - or at least he looked like him. He had a striking resemblance to the little boy, only taller, older, with long wavy red hair framing a sharp, fox-like face. His pale blue eyes burned with something the boy's didn't.

"I-" She stuttered, she was taken aback. How hadn't she heard him? "I...I didn't mean to-"

He arched a brow, "Relax," cutting her off. "I don't care about some scratches on a tree. That was for show." He tilted his head, his smile turning razor-sharp. "What I do care about is why you chased my brother."

"Your brother?" Mal echoed, realisation dawning. Of course. No wonder they looked alike.

"The pendant," she said quickly. "I thought... I thought he might know something about my friends. They were taken by the Order."

The man's face darkened, "I told him not to wear that anymore." He grumbled, sheathing his sword. "Come with me."

"I can't! I need to find my friends!" Her objection was interrupted as the young man firmly gripped her forearm and dragged her down the alley as he ran.

"You will." His tone brooking no argument, and dragged her deeper into the twisting alleys.

Why aren't we going to the soldiers? It was no use, he was far stronger than her and without her other hand she couldn't possibly cast a spell. The alley way only got thinner as they descended into it, dodging past odd barrels and boxes of bottles that people had discarded, the smell of rotting food dumped and other waste only got stronger. No wonder there's no one else here. After a good while of running, he stopped where the alley split into four different routes. The sounds of the crowds became faint, only a whisper in the background as they went further in.

"What are you doing?" She contested, finally being able to pull her arm out of his tight grasp. She looked down in surprise at the red hand-print he had left, sticking out terribly against her pale skin.

Turning around, the man took off his helmet and held it under his elbow, "I'm not one of those lunatics." He declared abruptly, his face held down low. "I don't care about what you did to this damn tree." His voice dripped with resentment. Why?

"Why sneak up on me then?" Mal probed, it's not like any guard I've seen to disobey orders.

"I caught sight of you talking to my brother from further down the alley. I was on my way to find one of those robed-" He took a breath, "I needed to make sure he was being safe, which he never is."

"I'm sorry," she put her hands up, "I didn't think I could risk asking anyone else."

"I know." His red hair was wavy, surrounding his face like a lion's mane. "I didn't bring you hear to talk about that. You lost someone to the Order, right?"

"Two people, but yes. Taken this morning." Her head tilted once more at this strange man, "Why does it matter to you?"

"I used to be a believer." He began, "All of my family were."

"Until?"

"My older brother, Hannim, was 'chosen' as well." He murmured, "We were all excited at first."

"What happened to him?"

He shrugged, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, "We never saw him again." He paused, "No one knows what happens to you if you get Chosen. They all seem to think you live in paradise up there, but I know that's lies fed to us on purpose!" That's where Landry and Orryn were taken? If they're dead I'll kill them.

"So you're sympathetic?"

"Sympathetic?" He almost laughed, "You're looking for your friends, aren't you? I want to find my brother."

Her eyes widened, "Why trust me?" How do I know I can trust him? Her mind raced, looking around in case she needed to escape again. She had her hands free, if she was quick with it she could cast another spell, but it wasn't something she liked to rush. The man took a seat on a large barrel, placing his helmet next him.

"I don't. But, you can use magic. A sword wouldn't even get me past the front door."

"How do you propose we get up there?"

"I was ordered to find an Evergreen. They can travel up and down, and that's who we're going to use. One of them."

"You've thought about this a lot, haven't you?"

"More than anything." The man muttered.

After an uncomfortable stretch of silence, Mal decided it was enough. "Well, firstly if we're going to work together, it's probably best we know what to call each other." She stated as she reached out her hand to shake his, "I'm Mal."

The guard chuckled, reaching out and clasping her hand, "Calder."