Camellia strolled on soft, cool grass. She walked barefoot along the back of her house and approached an open window. Through that open window, she could find the study and Valerian asleep in a cradle. Camellia reached the window. The lowest part of the frame fell level with her chin. She stood on tiptoes, and tried to see her child. She glimpsed Florian’s desk, bookshelves, a chair, and the top of the cradle.

A hand brushed her arm, and Camellia jumped.

Florian whispered, “He’s alright. Come on.” He smiled and beckoned.

She and Florian were about to play outside. They had a new toy.

Camellia stepped away from the window and glanced back. She didn’t hear a baby’s cry. In fact, she thought she heard a baby’s snore. So, she smiled, turned away, and trotted deeper into their backyard.

Away from the shelter offered by their house, strong wind blew. It whipped Camellia’s dark hair and signified a storm to come. Around the perimeter of their land, tall trees and bushes shook. Most of the trees were evergreen and didn’t bend too far in the wind’s influence but instead ruffled back and forth.

Florian placed a little metal box on the grass. He stopped and looked into the sky. “We might have enough room to do this in the basement.” His voice mixed with the sound of the wind. “Do you think we should move indoors?”

“Florian, he’ll only sleep for a couple of hours – at most. Turn it on.” Camellia glanced back at the window. Her keen ears, keener under the cloudy sky, still couldn’t discern a baby’s cry. She knew she would hear him. He was the loudest creature for miles. Slowly, Camellia turned back.

Again, she saw the wild wind invade her yard and the new toy that sat at the center of it. She smiled.

Florian knelt. He grinned. “Here we go.” He pressed a button on the device.

A projection of Volanter space slag littered their yard. Camellia clapped her hands.

Florian held up a finger. “Watch this.” He fiddled with the controls again.

The space slag swirled, twisted, and reordered itself to form a three-d puzzle of a Volanter ship – a Volanter ship hovered in Camellia’s backyard!

The pale green behemoth stretched from the house to the tree line, and the real thing would be larger still. Camellia backpedaled to take in more of it. She moved beneath the hologram and marveled as she passed below the projection of the hull. On the very edge, Camellia found a hole. She expected to see the interior of a winding hall, but instead, she saw through to the other side of the hull.

The ship wasn’t complete. Of course, they couldn’t recreate the inside, without more detailed work. She hoped that would come later. But, always, some hull pieces would remain missing. It reminded Camellia of a vase reassembled or a cracked mural placed back in order. It was as good as that brand of archaeology could often get.

“That’s how the ship looked before we blew it up.” Florian stood and spread his arms. He looked small beneath the vessel.

“Who put this all together?” Camellia called.

“One of Rooks’ crew, plus Eder, Cora from the museum, and Marlise, newly transferred from a life on the road.” Florian strolled under the ship. He headed for Camellia.

“Are they going to do the interior?” Camellia pointed into the hole.

Florian laughed. “Of course. We’ve got the map, so it won’t be long. I was just pleased to see how much they’ve already finished. Thanks to our images of the living thing, they were able to put this one back together in record time. By archaeological standards, they cheated, but I won’t complain.” Florian stood at Camellia’s shoulder and regarded her with a mischievous smile. “If you were chair, I suppose you’d be a bit of task master.”

Camellia smiled and shook her head. “It’s wonderful. It’s a whole dig site in our backyard.” Camellia peered at a burned rune and, with her finger, followed the traces of its circle.”

“It is wonderful. And, that’s not all that’s on here.”

Camellia straightened. “What else?”

Florian hurried back to the device. “We’ve got the ship exterior. We’ve also got a sampling of bodies.” He stooped and touched the controls. He flipped past the burned version of bodies and moved on to the reconstructed image.

Rows of Volanter hovered over their lawn.

Camellia glanced at their fence line. She couldn’t see through the thick tree and bush cover and hoped none of their neighbors could either. In the projection, none of the Volanter wore clothes.

“We’re earning our eccentric reputation,” Florian said. “What I find interesting about this image are the stripe patterns. I think we have them all represented here.”

“That’s a lot of black and white stripes,” Camellia agreed. She counted fifteen Volanter with black torsos and seventeen with white. The stripes showed more variety, in number, thickness, and frequency.

“I have no understanding of the evolutionary reasoning for the patterns. Camouflage is my best guess.”

Camellia nodded. The striped black and white pattern could serve the Volanter beneath the waves and deter predators. Their tentacles probably gave the impression of sea snakes, and Camellia could not think of a lot of predators that would want to wade into a ball of sea snakes.

Florian walked between the bodies. “The black and white bases are split about fifty-fifty. That’s as even as it gets. But, the thick stripes are far more common than the thin. Look.” Florian pointed at a Volanter.

The woman was dark, and hundreds of thin white strips ran up and down her tentacles.

Camellia leaned in. “It’s a completely different look. Makes me think a little less of snakes and more…”

“Plants, maybe fish.”

“Here’s an example with black stripes.” Florian walked through a body and moved to another row.

The hologram fizzled but regained its shape.

Camellia stood on tip toe and looked over to the place where Florian stood.

Florian waved her closer.

“I can see fine here,” she called. She backed away from the bodies, maintaining her tip toe stand.

“Can you see that his stripes slant?”

Camellia studied the pattern. Wind threatened to push hair into her view, but instead, picked up her hair and pulled it skyward. Camellia ignored the gust and balanced on her toes. She could see the slant and the almost swirl-like impression of the stripes.

“Wow. That might actually camouflage well among rocks.” Camellia brought her heels back to the ground.

“It might.” Florian moved back through the hologram. “Wide, horizontal stripes are the most common. Followed by slanted, wide stripes. Then, the thin horizontal stripes, and finally, the rarest is the thin slanted pattern.”

Camellia closed one eye, and with a single finger, counted the bodies again. She poked the air in her sight, where each body lay. She felt slow, especially since she’d come up with a number before. She just couldn’t remember. She blamed it on lack of sleep. Finally, she turned to Florian. “A sample size of thirty-two?”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“Alright. Maybe, it’s too soon to call. But, at least, we have an idea.” Florian spread his arms. “Just maybe, we’ve catalogued all their available stripe patterns.”

Camellia put a finger to her lips. “Probably. We could take a survey of all the warriors who fought Volanter directly. Then, we can get an idea of frequency and see if we missed a pattern.”

“Surveys can be imprecise, but I’ll certainly put it on the to do list. We can already cheat for most of this; we might as well include some sloppier research.”

Camellia huffed and applied light pressure to his arm.

He laughed so soft that the wind swallowed the sound. After a moment of silence, Florian again studied the bodies. He said, “I wonder if the patterns correspond to a caste system. For example, the warriors and explorers possess the snake pattern, and those in less dangerous positions have the others.”

Camellia glanced up at him. “Restrictive. To have your profession determined by your stripes. I don’t think they’d do that.”

“Probably not.” Florian’s eyes turned skyward. “The stripes might come from different regions, where different survival strategies played out. Obsolete now.”

Camellia liked that idea better.

The wind whipped their clothes and pushed at the holo projecting device.

“We need to move indoors.” Florian started for the device. He ran as it turned sideways and the body projection splayed into the grass and up into the sky, in nice neat lines.

Camellia half-laughed, half squealed to find a column of dead Volanter leading upward. The neighbor’s saw that.

The wind banged the shutters of their house and sent a waste barrel rolling. Valerian’s cries came soon after.

Camellia left Florian to deal with the chaos outside. She ran to the door.

“I swear it’s usually sunnier,” Pan said.

She held Aria’s arm, and they walked the beach. Sand slipped under her feet, and Pan sometimes struggled to keep herself in a good upright position. Sotir would be more stable in this scenario, and the man used a walking staff.

“It reminds me of the day when Brynn got you unbound.” Aria stared straight ahead, eyes wide open.

Pan searched the beach, but all she saw was sand for miles, hand in hand with the sea. The grey sky set an atmosphere of gloom, and it really did look just like the last day she saw Brynn’s ghost, though that place was half a galaxy away.

“Funny how two planets can look so alike. Probably a bit more alike for you.” Pan glanced at Aria.

Aria, who was still stuck with her singular circle, could see the same colors in all places. “I guess auras might give places a samey look. But, I haven’t really noticed it to be that much of a problem.” Aria looked up. “Sky is grey, fading to black if I look high enough.” As Aria brought her gaze back down, she said, “The sea is grey, with a fog of white, hovering above it all. The sand is a cream color, with patches of aural remnants. In fact…” Aria turned around. “Oh!”

Pan turned too.

A man stood some distance behind them. He looked them over and said, “I don’t remember you two girls. Are you new here? I’m guessing you’re both married women.”

Pan looked down, and thought he just might be able to tell she damn well should be married. She raised her gaze to his. “Yes. My name is Eldi, and this is my friend Imma. I just moved in to the house on the hill.” Pan pointed.

Her house waited there, a little blue and yellow cottage, set like a tiny king, lording over the beach.

The man’s eyes widened a bit, and he nodded slow. “So, you’re my new neighbor. Living there with your husband? I haven’t seen him.”

“He’s a day trader. Works in the city. Only comes home on the weekends,” Pan answered.

“Must be lonely.”

Pan tried to keep herself from frowning. The man’s tone and expression lacked sympathy.

“Arcanes?” he asked. Again, his eyes drifted over both their bodies.

Pan shook her head. “No. We’re not arcane.”

“Oh, must be a coincidence. Sorry.” He gave them a half-hearted smile. “I see two girls, around the same age, both pregnant.” He shrugged. “Only arcanes have their lives planned out to that kind of detail.”

“We’re just good friends,” Aria said.

Pan smiled, but it felt hollow.

The man turned. “Don’t stay out too long. Looks like rain.”

As if it had heard the man’s prediction, the wind picked up. It grabbed Pan’s straight locks and threw them against Aria’s curls, which fled in the opposite direction, also on the run.

They watched the man walk away. He turned, not once, but twice, to give them a final look.

“Let’s give him to the Volanter,” Pan suggested. “Think they’d want him?”

“Pan,” Aria scolded.

“What?”

“That’s red.”

Pan sighed. “Sorry.”

“Besides, I don’t think they’ll settle for the people we don’t like. They want us all.” Aria tugged on Pan’s arm. “Come on.”

Aria’s heart kept beating hard, even after the man had walked far away. “Pan. I don’t know if you should stay here alone.”

Pan’s aura turned a sudden grey. “Why?”

Aria stared after the man, and his trail of red and yellow. “He’s suspicious, and he’s wearing the wrong kind of red.”

“My kind of red?”

“No, a deeper shade, more like the color of dried blood.” Aria didn’t say that she’d seen that shade on Pan recently.

Aria checked the trail behind them and could see the blood red, painted all over the sand. It had obliterated the trails of blue that they left in their wake.

Pan’s grip on Aria’s arm tightened. “What does blood red mean? I don’t think you’ve ever told me.”

“Hateful. Cold.”

A moment of silence passed, and Aria could not take her eyes from the mess the man had made of the sand.

Now, Pan tugged on her. “Let’s go back to the house, and if you don’t mind, I think I’m going to set up some wards. Should be simple enough.”

Aria nodded.

Pan wobbled but regained her balance. “We shouldn’t have stood still for so long. I might pass out on the climb back up. I think…” Pan looked around. Her aura phased into the lavender range, coupled with an edge of anxious yellow. “I think I need to portal up. We should find a quiet place to do that.”

Aria wanted to say they shouldn’t take the chance, but she also didn’t think she could go on. She felt weak; her body heavy, and her head light. The thought of a quick escape amplified the sensations.

Pan pulled Aria to the cliffside, around a great rock. The sand grew firm, and when Aria looked up the length of the cliff, she Pan and Sotir’s cottage above. Pan tugged Aria closer to the rock and stopped beneath a sprig of grasses that grew from the stone. The grass shaded them and waved in lines of white. When Aria turned back to the water, she saw that the cliffside around them reached for the sea and hid them from view.

Pan lifted her wrist. The little bracelet jangled, and Pan picked through the charms. Aria couldn’t tell which charm was which, but she knew a picture of Pan’s house must be in easy access.

Pan found the charm and drew the portal. She winced, and her aura drew in. The circle made its song – a pretty loud one.

Aria stepped through first. Though, she could only see white, against a backdrop of rocks. Pan followed after, and they found themselves in the cozy seaside cottage, colored in the cool shades of Pan and accented by the friendly hues of Sotir.

“Now,” Pan began. “I think I will try my hand at wards.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” Aria stood before the portal that would take her back home.

Beyond the magic ring and its evenly spaced runes, Pan saw the living room of Aria’s house. The couch waited for Aria. It looked inviting, especially after Pan had just placed seven wards around her house.

She had one against fire; one against entry from harmful individuals; and five against peeping through windows. If anyone looked in, they would just see an illusion of her happy little home.

Pan shook her head. “I just did all that work. I should stay. Besides, what am I going to do? This is my house. I can’t just ask Sotir to buy us another one. He said this was the best of the options.”

Aria hissed, “He didn’t look hard enough. That man hates arcanes, or at least…”

Pan knew what Aria wanted to say. “That man hates reapers. He thinks one of us is the reaper.” Pan shrugged. “Except he’s looking for a mythical creature. There are no reapers anymore. I was the last.”

It rang a little untrue, even to Pan’s ears. Hadn’t she been something of a reaper in the final fight against the Volanter? She stole their spells, and it was easier than making her own. And, it felt so good.

Aria frowned and stepped up to the portal. She stared at her feet and glanced up. “He’s not going to care about the difference. As for this house, I think Sotir might have had a blind spot. I don’t think this is safe.”

Pan sighed. “They can’t set my house on fire. They can’t get in if they want to harm me. They can’t even peep in my windows and see what I’m doing. And, if all else fails…” Pan could summon her familiar for help, but really, she shouldn’t do that.

“Alright. Alright. You stay here, but I’m going to check on you several times a day. At least, when I’m not talking to Gladiolus and his pet.” Aria stepped through the portal and looked back.

They stood on two opposing sides of a magical passage. It seemed so final, and Aria had just said something of great interest.

“Gladiolus?” Pan frowned. She held the portal open. “You never said you talked to Gladiolus.”

Aria put her head in her hand. “He’s the ambassador.”

Pan barked a laugh. “What?”

“I know. It’s strange to me too.”

“You should have mentioned that earlier. We could have had hours of gossip. What did he say?” Pan crossed her arms. “Who’s his pet? The Eidos? Does it accompany him to negotiations?”

Aria moaned. “Oh, no.”

“Come on, Aria.” Pan shuffled closer.

Aria lifted her head. She stared at the portal, but she gazed beyond Pan’s eyes. In fact, she gazed beyond Pan. She couldn’t see Pan, only the white of magic. “He didn’t bring his familiar, but he had a woman with him.”

“The child of the Volanter,” Pan said.

“Yes. A child of the Rhizo specifically.”

Pan clenched her fists. Her face grew warm. “She’s his pet now?”

Aria inched out of view; her figure hung on the portal’s edge. “It’s just an impression I had. That she was indoctrinated. I got it from how their auras interacted.”

“Their auras interacted?”

“You know what I meant. I can’t really see you, Pan. I’d rather not have a conversation through the portal.” Aria slipped completely out of view. “I need to take a nap. I’ll talk to you later.”

Pan sighed and let the portal fade.

How could Aria not tell her that she’d been talking to Gladiolus? Pan wanted more details. She wanted to know everything that had happened, now that someone else of interest was involved.

“Who does he think he is? Ambassador my ass.”