Vox and I watched this time in complete silence, nothing but the uncanny stillness of the machine-infested jungle to compliment our sporadic shifts and coughs.

Which was fine by me.

I didn’t particularly like the man, but then, right now I wasn’t sure I liked any of my current team. Until now, I’d held out hope that Glare might prove the sole compatriot I could rely on, but it seemed the pressure of the delve had become too much for even him to bear, leaving me alone once more. Regardless, I was happy enough that the potential Master sitting opposite me didn’t seem eager to try anything nefarious for the night’s remainder. Instead, Vox whiled away the hours by staring sullenly off into the dark, dark wood, beset by an entirely abysmal mood.

To be honest, I didn’t quite understand why.

Was he upset with the group’s internal animosity? But, it’d never bothered him before. And indeed, back in the auditorium, it’d almost seemed like he’d encouraged such a thing. Was the source of his anger, then, the jungle’s conditions? Certainly, he’d seemed outraged by the insects’ appearance earlier.

But, again, why hadn’t it bothered him before?

For the entirety of our delve, he’d not displayed any more than the smallest mote of displeasure towards our surroundings, be they animate or not. The cybernetic apes and machine wasps both posed him little danger, so it seemed, so…why?

I yawned, rubbing my eyes.

I truly couldn’t figure out the man, not at all. His motives and intentions remained a complete mystery to me. Back when we’d spoken earlier he really had seemed genuine, and his anger now appeared just as honest, too, but…it was hard to know for sure. It could all be one big deception, I supposed, sporadic actions and expressions explicitly designed to make his true motives unclear–but I doubted it.

Though hardly an expert in deceit, myself, songs never lied.

They either told the truth, or said nothing at all. And if he’d really wanted to deceive me, all he’d had to do was keep his own entirely featureless. But he hadn’t. Had I just been projecting this whole time? Did he even actually suspect I could see his song?

Did he even know what songs were?

I yawned again. This was going nowhere. I was speculating in circles. One thing, though, I knew for sure. I’d decided it. I’d made up my mind. I’d realized it, over the past hours of silent reflection.

I’d been sloppy.

I’d gotten complacent. I’d been so in awe of my own power, so distracted by my own relative comfort during this delve compared to that of my teammates, that I’d forgotten one simple truth; I was still just a man.

One day I might be Immortal, but I wasn’t yet. If the robotic insects had made it far enough into my auditory canals, they could’ve reached the inside of my skull. Draconic Blood had only regenerated my brain once before, and it’d nearly drained my entire reserves in doing so. If the bugs had gotten in, they could’ve injected my grey matter with poison directly.

Continuously.

Nothing would have saved me then. I’d have died slowly, and painfully. In agony, feeling my own memories and higher cognitive functions melt away, experiencing firsthand what it felt like to become a vegetable prior to final, merciful expiration. Perhaps the only Blessed in the world Host to a Noble Shard, dying to a fucking wasp.

Never again.

From now on, from this point forward, I was going to use my other Blessings, and damn the consequences.

This wasn’t the time for experimentation. And on an exotic floor, I was quickly realizing that I couldn’t afford to pull punches. I wouldn’t do anything flagrantly, but I’d already been pushed. Multiple times, even. Hesitation had almost cost me. I wouldn’t let it do so again.

And if worst came to worst, I could just default, as always, to saying nothing at all.

Many Blessings featured broad and variate expression, and it wasn’t like my teammates had been exactly forthcoming with theirs. Besides, who was to say that they’d immediately surmise my ability to copy powers, as opposed to being any other kind of Trump? More to the point, what reason had they to think me a Trump, at all? Already, I’d claimed Fang to be an Entropic item. Why couldn’t I just have more?

I was roused from my self-reassuring monologue by Vox’s movement.

The Blessed rose petulantly, stretched briefly, and snapped irritably in my direction.

“I’m done.”

I checked my wristband. It was almost four in the morning. The man had made it an impressive six hours of constantly exercising his Blessing.

“Ok,” I started, cautiously and calmly addressing him. “But, can you wait for me to wake Thaum up? I want to make sure she can actually make the dome, and I’d rather there not be any down time between the two effects,” I explained, tentatively.

“…fine,” Vox ground out, standing ramrod straight, still glaring at me.

“Great, thanks,” I said quickly, dashing off to the sorceress’s luxurious pavilion, now sporting numerous holes, to rap upon its entrance flaps. Hearing no response from within, I sighed, and entered the sizeable structure.

Its interior was surprisingly empty, devoid of all manner of decoration, though to be fair I’m not quite sure what I’d expected. Upon a heavenly soft-looking mattress, lay the Cell heir herself. Thaum, too, appeared not quite as I’d expected her, the girl almost seeming…tranquil. Submerged in slumber, her song was a far cry from the discord that deeply suffused its waking character.

Wasting no time, I hurried forth and shook her, ever so lightly, awake.

Thaum’s eyes snapped open in an instant, her song exploding in fear and rage. With a bestial scream, she thrust her hand towards me, a lance of pure shadow piercing straight through my heart. I coughed wetly as liters of blood started pouring into my airways.

Thaum’s face contorted in horror as she beheld the gaping hole she’d made in my chest.

“Oh…OH, MY GODS, LORD HERO, I’M, I’M–”

“Quiet,” I gurgled, holding one finger to my lips whilst the other pointed to the previously mortal wound, my flesh already rippling and flooding the void, sealing it in moments.

“I’m ok,” I wheezed, not wanting to wake any of our companions.

“Oh,” she said, lamely. “Oh right, of course, you’re a regenerator…” she murmured, trailing off, still staring at the now-pristine, unblemished skin as if she couldn’t parse its existence. One of her hands drifted sleepily towards it.

Then she jerked it back, shaking her head vigorously, long black locks swinging back and forth.

“But…I tried to kill you! Oh Gods, what if you’d been one of the others? What if you’d been Quarrel, she’d kill me–” she said, voice quickly increasing in volume, chaos enveloping her song as she started to panic again.

“It’s ok,” I reassured her once more, holding up my hands but making sure not to try and touch her again, maintaining a very healthy distance. “Relax, milady. It was my fault anyways, I shouldn’t have entered your lodgings unannounced.”

“And I’m fine. Really,” I repeated as Thaum eyed me in a mixture of doubt and fear. Priest, this was going to be a long night. I straightened, the height of her tent plenty tall enough to accommodate my standing stature. I thought about holding out a hand to help her up, but decided against it.

Thaum regarded me uncertainly, unmoving.

“Vox wishes to sleep. Are you willing to maintain the barrier in his stead?” I asked her, carefully.

“Oh. Oh, right,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Right, of course. I mean, yes. I am. Willing, that is,” she finished, wincing.

“Excellent,” I replied, quickly. “Shall we, then, milady?”

“Right,” she repeated, shaking her head once more and using a swell of shadows to raise herself from the bed. We exited the sizable pavilion and returned to the ravaged, bug-ridden clearing. Thaum looked around, grimaced once, and spread her arms wide.

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An absolute flood of shades emerged from the folds of her dark, robe-like leathers.

I was shocked by the sheer quantity of servants that made up her employ, easily tens of dozens of the creatures swirling out and about the clearing, linking shadowy, spectral arms to form a massive bubble around our campsite. A sphere of purest night.

Thaum lowered her arms, still grimacing. I hoped she could keep this up long enough, but didn’t want to risk asking such an intimate question. Vox, to my surprise, refrained from commenting on my delay or Thaum’s performance, instead shooting the two of us one final scowl before retreating to his own lodgings. I sighed, wearily, hoping to myself that his demeanor would be improved somewhat by a measure of sleep, before plopping myself down once more on one of the logs surrounding the now re-made fire.

Daintily, hesitantly, Thaum took a seat opposite me.

The sorceress refused to meet my gaze, eyes darting anxiously around everywhere but my own. Her song mirrored their frenetic motions, any semblance of control she’d affected upon our first meeting, by now, having completely evaporated.

I didn’t understand why she was so nervous around me. Her stress was starting to stress me out.

But, at least, she seemed content to sit in silence. I didn’t fear this Master as I did Vox, and saw no reason to keep any closer eye on her than normal, so maybe I’d be able to close my eyes and meditate a bit. Maybe I’d be able to get some actual rest tonight.

Or maybe not. Thaum, her mind apparently set on doing something, cleared her throat hesitantly, stiffened her back in a remarkably inelegant manner, and haltingly spoke.

“So, you are, I mean, are you…that is to say,” she stuttered as her song flailed about helplessly. Oh, Priest above.

Was she…trying to make small talk?

She cleared her throat once more, before courageously belting out a phrase so rapidly that I’d likely not have even been able to comprehend it without my enhanced hearing.

“AreyouthenanAristocratlordHero?”

She stared proudly, confidently at me, after machine-gunning out the sentence at breakneck speed.

I stared blankly back at her, completely flummoxed. By all the gods above and below, how could this girl possibly be the heir to a Cell? I was hardly a socialite, myself, but she made me look as suave as Vox by comparison. The extent of her awkwardness clearly hadn’t revealed itself as part of a group, but now in a one-on-one setting…

Well, it was like she’d never actually talked to another human being before.

Thaum started to fidget under my gaze, hands wringing frantically, alerting me to the fact that I’d let the silence drag on far too long.

“Am I…an Aristocrat?” I asked, dumbly. My few words prompted an instantaneous response.

“Yes, um, I mean, I’m sorry, of course you are.” She quickly corrected herself. “What with that fine sword and all, I meant no offense, of course,” she said, nodding rapidly. I mirrored her motion, still in a state of shock.

“What I meant to say was, what Cell do you hail from?” Before I could even consider a response, she continued in a rapidfire manner.

“And, what branch? I know them all, you see, Fathe-ah, er…” she trailed off, her song quailing, her demeanor shifting from too-open to shut tight so quickly it made my head spin. I was completely incapable of getting a read on the girl.

Gods, was there a chance she was secretly a master manipulator? If Vox had really wanted to fool me, all he’d have to do was emulate this performance.

“My relationship with the Aristocracy is somewhat…complicated, lady Thaum,” I said. I summoned Fang to my side, stroking him thoughtfully as I spoke.

“My Fang is an heirloom weapon, as you say, mine by birthright. But I haven’t seen eye-to-eye with my family–with my father, particularly–in quite some time,” I continued, mixing the truth in with lies.

“As such, I tend not to use my family name whenever possible. I don’t want their fame, or infamy, by my side. I’d much rather make my own.” I finished, feeling slightly ashamed as I lied through my teeth.

Thaum, though, was looking at me with an almost frightening intensity. She seemed to be hanging on my every word. “You…left your family? You…ran away? And they didn’t care?” she asked, clearly in disbelief.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that,” I replied, chuckling sheepishly. “Most likely, they consider my current actions something of a rebellious phase. I’m sure they think I’ll return in time.” I shrugged. “Perhaps they’re right.”

“Wow…,” Thaum said, blinking at me reverentially. “Wow,” she repeated, becoming downcast, eyes shifting to the fetid forest floor. “I could never do that,” she said, quietly.

I felt more than a little scummy, serving as her inspiration like this. I hadn’t actually done any of the things I was claiming. I didn’t know much about Nycta, if the girl indeed hailed from that family. But the slaver Cell certainly didn’t enjoy a compassionate reputation.

What mundane child hadn’t dreamed of being heir to a Cell? If not Nycta, I knew any my age would’ve given everything for a childhood in Regis, or the battle-decorated Syn. Hells, I’d been one of them. But thinking more seriously about it now, I wondered if such a life was truly as glamorous and luxurious as it seemed. How could you disobey an Immortal sire?

“I do not know much of Nycta,” I admitted, honestly. “But undertaking the Agoge? Joining the Coterie? Do these things not count as running away?”

“No,” Thaum responded quickly, venomously, all vestiges of social anxiety vanished. She shook her head, mouth contorted in a disgusted grimace.

“No, I’m only here because he–because Father wants me here,” she spat out her parent’s name like a curse, her vitriol surprising me. She looked up at me, meeting my gaze without a trace of fear. Deep within her gorgeous lime-green eyes, I thought I could make out a dark room, and a small child curled up within it.

“And I’m not joining the Coterie–I’m just on loan,” she chuckled mirthlessly. “I assure you, milord, my leave of absence is quite temporary.”

“I see…,” I said, not sure how to respond. Thaum’s relationship with her father seemed even more antagonistic than my own, fabricated or not.

“I’m just here until I reach the Core stage,” she said, hollowly. “Then, my future awaits.”

“I see,” I repeated, lamely, still unsure how to reply. Thaum stared off into the distance, miserably. Then, all of a sudden, her eyes snapped back to me.

“Might I have a look at your sword?” she asked, abruptly. I paused, taken aback somewhat by the non-sequitur. Thaum, perhaps taking my surprise as reticence, hurriedly continued.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course. I don’t mean to steal it, or anything, it’s just–my mother was a swordsman, supposedly, and I’ve always admired the weapons,” she rattled off, returned apparently to her previous composure. “Of course, if you don’t–”

“It’s fine,” I said, interrupting her in an attempt to forestall another nervous tirade. “I don’t mind at all.”

With a gesture, I directed Fang her way, the narcissistic creature pirouetting in the air without my prompting, before landing in Thaum’s lap, making her gasp with joy.

“Oh–it’s magnificent…” Thaum murmured, running her hands up and down the weapon’s silver runes in awe. Fang preened under her caress, looking meaningfully my way, as if saying; See? This is the treatment I deserve.

I rolled my eyes at the display.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” she muttered, peering more closely. “This detail…”

“Your shades are quite beautiful, as well,” I cut in quickly, in an effort to distract the sorceress. I didn’t have much first-hand knowledge of runic weaponry, certainly not as much as a Cell heir would be privy to, and the last thing I wanted was her happening upon the truth.

At my words, however, Thaum snorted.

“My thanks, lord Hero, but you need not lie,” she said, drawing her attention from the sword back to me. Glancing down at it once more, she hesitated, then sighed remorsefully and held it out for my recollection. As Fang flew back into my grasp, I frowned.

“Why would I lie?” I asked, honestly confused by her words. Thaum just shook her head at me.

“You speak kindly, but I know my servants well,” she said, manifesting one of the cute, rippling shadow spheres for effect. “I’ve had a lifetime to become used to their forms.”

I frowned again, tilting my head.

“What do you mean? It just looks like a little ball, to me. I don’t intend to decry their power, of course, but in terms of appearance they’re inoffensive enough,” I maintained. “Cute, even.”

Thaum stared at me. I stared right back. Did others see the shades differently?

“Right…,” she said, gaze flipping back and forth between the shade and myself, before narrowing her eyes. With a snap of delicate fingers, the sphere suddenly shot towards me, halting just before my face. Thaum was regarding me fiercely, intensely, closely watching my reaction. I didn’t know what exactly she expected, but being so close to the thing allowed me to make a startling realization.

I could hear it.

The shade actually reminded me somewhat of Fang, though in a far diminished way. Unsurprising, I supposed, given that the latter was technically also a summoned servant. Its tiny tendrils of condensed darkness contorted adorably about me, prodding my cheeks and poking my hair.

Try as I might, I really couldn’t view the thing as anything else but cute.

Its song was a chipper one, a light and airy tone that greatly contrasted its midnight complexion, mix between helpful sprite and fanatic adherent. It clearly worshiped Thaum, but I couldn’t tell if the creature was actually capable of independent thought, or if it simply followed her directives.

Tentatively reaching out with my own song, I flicked the shade lightly on its nonexistent nose.

It retreated in a flurry of motion, fleeing back to its Master like a frightened child to the dress of its mother, whereupon it promptly dove back into her onyx leathers. The sorceress gaped at me, amazed.

“What did you…how did you…” she choked. “What in Priest’s name–”

“Delightful little creatures,” I cut her off, before yawning. Thaum was still staring at me, flabbergasted. “I’d love to get some rest, if possible,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“If you feel confident maintaining the barrier, I might close my eyes while the sun’s still down,” I said, crossing my arms and slumping down to the ground, my back resting on the uncomfortable log. My hindquarters squished unpleasantly upon meeting the marshy forest floor, but my clothes were self-cleaning, at least.

“I, um,” Thaum said, regaining her composure. “Yes, that makes sense, I suppose I can.”

“Outstanding,” I said, yawning once more. “Wake me if there’s any trouble, yes?”

“Of course,” Thaum confirmed. “Sleep well, lord Hero.”

As I drifted off into a deep slumber, I could just make out her final words, so quiet I’d not have caught them without the song.

“And…thank you…”

“…for being kind.”