A dull pang thudded against the hollow of her chest, like a stone dropping against her heart. Her throat was stripped of moisture, a wave welling behind her eyes; a rising desire to mourn.

Through her blurred vision, she made out the shape of a child kneeling beside her.

“You're crying again, Alyce,” Ryles sobbed tearfully.

The three year old’s cry coaxed fresh tears to spill over her cheeks and Alyce clutched her face to bury a whimper. Deep inside, she felt an ache grow; bitter, cold, and resentful. A thin wail pierced the far recess of her mind.

“It hurts,” Alyce tried to say, but she could not perceive the timbre of her own utterance.

Then her bleary vision bleached into a carmine red and she screamed at the horrible color she could not shut out. In her escalating terror, the eerie lament multiplied to the voices of many. Children, women, and men, eclipsing what remained of Alyce's senses. She gagged and heaved, fighting for air. But all she tasted was perceived ash and smoke.

Her fingers were pried open and something was shoved into her hand. In an instant, her fingers latched closed again, nails digging into flesh.

It was then a gentle heat flourished under the clenched digits. The warmth melting under her toughened skin and easing rigid muscles to lift each and every nail from pressing deeper divots.

The ache might have lessened but her muddled mind still drowned in agonizing red. She barely noticed the azure motes that streamed across the angry surface like dozens of pebbles skating above water. Upon each glance, the embers scattered the bloody hue into ripples, the wavelets’ dissipating the shrieks farther and farther away.

The familiar scent of Neburh's hills, damp grass tickling her nose. She let out a choking sob, a glimmer of relief.

Down each ember sunk, beneath the midnight pool, motes drowning in her stead. Before they dissolved, Alyce saw the shape of several glowing etchings. Twin angular edges, a stroke painted in the middle.

A rune.

Alyce pried her eyes open, her lashes sticky and eyelids crusted over, as if caked by hardened sand.

“It helped, I hope?” A voice inquired next to her. Hollis was crouched on the grass, her silk clothing meticulously arranged around her. Hollis' silver spectacles and chocolate brown eyes careened close to Alyce's face. “Yes, you have returned to us. You were weeping for so long.”

“What happened?” Alyce croaked out, then gasped hoarsely, a hand leaping to her throat. It felt strangely tender and raw. Her cheeks were stiffened by dried tears, hands blotchy too, streaked with dirt and remnant drops.

From a flask, Hollis poured water over a handkerchief, before answering. “A lamenting nymph curses those who can hear her woes, Colleen Alyce.” The older woman wrung the cloth before handing it to Alyce. “And heard her, you did, and made the sorrows your burden.”

Rubbing her eyes with the handkerchief, Alyce felt fine grains in her hand. Her fingers creaked with effort and revealed the blue crystal, its smooth exterior marred with fractures, several rupturing from the rune's engraving.

“Oh no, no — ,” Alyce whispered frantically. “It's cracked.”

“It had done what it was spelled to do,” Hollis told her. “Kytes is very good at binding runes. All kinds, for many purposes, but his fire lends best to protection spells, including this one. A binding rune meant to ensure stability and wave away negative energies.” She tapped a finger on the cracked sigil. “But once it could do no more, it shatters, just like everything when it loses its use. A miracle it held against a nymph's lament.” A faint smile and an affectionate tone. “Like I said, the things runic magic can do never ceases to amaze me. And my boy is truly becoming one of the best.”

Sharp barks alerted the women's attention toward the herding dog, Mac. Ryles and the hound sat a few feet away, having been moved a distance from the temporarily bespelled Alyce. Her tearful display had caused the three year old to fall into his own hysterics and Connall had only just managed to calm his son.

The boy was still clearly distraught, clinging on to Mac's long fur as the hound confronted the returning figure trudging up the stairs. Connall frowned, hushing Mac by pressing a hand against the dog's long muzzle.

“But is he protected from the nymph, himself?” Connall asked before striding toward Kytes.

A hand covered the lower half of Kytes’ face, but Alyce saw the red dripping from behind it and the unmistakable darker drops that stained his white shirt. Before she could exclaim, Connall quickly put his frame between the mage and onlookers, hiding the younger man from sight. Hushed words were exchanged and Kytes allowed himself to be steered aside, but not before delivering a fleeting glance in Alyce's direction.

“Oh heavens,” Hollis mumbled under her breath and rose to her feet. “I suppose it could have been worse.” Fishing a fresh handkerchief from inside her coat, she went to inspect her student's condition.

Left alone, Alyce returned her attention to the surface of the broken crystal. Tracing the splintering rune with the tip of a nail, her touch scraped brittle powder against the ridges. Though still beautiful, it was crumbling.

Could he fix this?

“Alyce.”

The maid veered her eyes up to meet Ryles’. The boy had inched a few steps closer, anxiously searching her face for -- something, like a monster. An expression that Alyce had never seen the child wear before.

“You were crying so much,” Ryles whimpered. “The ghost was turning you into it.”

The afternoon rays were replaced with a shiver that snaked through her veins. Seeing the downward tremble in the boy’s mouth, she lowered her head, desperate to hide her own shaken emotions. Never had she wanted to frighten her young lord, the child she had loved dearly and with the other girls, raised.

“My apologies for frightening you, my lord —.”

A shadow loomed over her bowed head, strained silence new to them both. Before she could address Ryles again, a small body wriggled into her arms, clutching at the gathered fabrics at her waist, weeping into her apron.

“You can't become a ghost too! You can't leave.”

The child's plea broke Alyce's resolve, his words weighing more than it should have. In his cry, she found his misunderstanding and unfamiliarity to loss. Becoming a ghost meant becoming like the baroness, the mother he lit candles for every morning with his father. It meant becoming out of reach. It meant no longer by his side.

She embraced the boy tightly. “I am not going anywhere,” Alyce answered, kissing the top of his hair.

The child's voice was muffled. “Then you also won't leave to be an Esphyr?”

Her entire body braced into a lock. “My lord?”

“Esphyr Hollis said the magic was hurting you because you had it.” Ryles continued to babble. “And all Esphyrs have to go far away to learn magic.”

Under dusk's remaining golden beams, Alyce paled, her skin contrasting her vibrant auburn hair. Her eyes became unfocused, barely noting her surroundings as she grasped for the true meaning of the child's spoken words.Then they honed upon where Connall and the Esphyrs stood. Gray blues fixed.

The maid who despised the price to pay for magic. She relented as it simply was a part of life.

The maid who preferred doing things by hand, slower, messier, riskier, but practical. She was useful when magic faltered.

Because —

It is not only the mages that can perform magic, we can do it too. It's in every little thing we do.

The maid who once believed magic was wondrous and beautiful. The maid who learned magic had another face to its allure.

The mages, supposed envoys of nature's powers, unfeeling when there are no personal gains to be had. The price for convenience, easily extorted. The spells to treat the worst of suffering, either ineffective or insufficient.

Grinding her molars, Alyce willed the corner of her lips to turn upward. “They are mistaken,” she answered soothingly, resting a softer gaze upon the child in her lap.

“But you screamed, you said it hurt. You couldn't hear us and your tears became tiny stones.”

Magic had two sides, blessing and curse.

“Ryles.” She heard Connall call out. “Alyce had only just recovered and, surely, has many questions —.”

“No.”

The singular denial was clear, cutting sharp through the grass, resounding through the broken keep. Ryles was forced a step back before Alyce stiffly rose from her seat, not caring to brush her crumpled skirts. Her shoulders rose high then sharply declined.

“I have no questions, none at all.” A strange laugh left her mouth. “Whatever it was, I want to forget it. There was a ghost and madness — possessed me. If I avoid this place, then all will be well. I am fine.”

“I'm afraid — ,” Hollis spoke slowly, as if trying to calm a skittish animal. “It is not so simple, Colleen Alyce.”

Alyce's tongue withered. “There are surely other reasons. Surely others have seen these — seen those things before. Become possessed by fear! Become — you said I was only weeping!”

Kytes took a step forward, his eyes locked on the clenched fist at her side. “Colleen, please remain calm — .” But the maid stared past him, seeking an explanation from his teacher.

“Streams to rivers. Tears that harden to salt. The nymph saw fit that you grieve with her in a moment only she remembers.” Hollis answered, her tone patient. “The line between nymph and mortal is thin for our kind, do not let her lament consume you.”

Alyce raised a trembling hand to her tear streaked cheeks and recoiled. The sandy texture underneath her touch pricked with sharp edges. A warmth sparked inside her still enclosed fist, then guttered as her grip tightened.

Hollis continued on. “It is those blessed by Thyis’ daughters that have the potential to sense the daughters themselves, and those with innate empathy sees their respective nymphs the clearest.”

Alyce shook her head from side to side, stubbornly tucking her chin in. She was shaking so terribly that Ryles retreated several steps back.

“No. I don't — I don't want that. I don't want to start seeing that. Never again.”

Hastening his steps, Kytes took several large strides to reach her side. He glimpsed her posture, the granules slipping through her clenched fist. “Colleen — .” He reached for her, wincing when he grazed her frigid skin.

Kytes’ recoil did not go unnoticed. Behind her spectacles, Hollis narrowed her eyes. “This is why the mageborn study at the Chapels and the twin Sancti. We must learn discipline over our gifts, to forge our talents, to conquer our fears, lest we succumb to every emotion we feel and inflict it upon others.”

“I'm not a mage! I've never done magic!” Alyce cried.

A sliver of pity escaped the woman's lips with a hiss. “It is because you've done magic that his Majesty has sent us to Neburh, Colleen Alyce. And you lack control over it!”

Alyce reared her head forward, distress threatening to escape her usual latch on emotions. Someone grabbed her, flooding her veins, muscles, nerves, bones with warmth, pushing something down. She wanted to scream in protest but the sensation implored her not to, holding her back. A glance to her side, she saw the all too familiar blue underneath Kytes’ hands wrapped around her arm.

She jerked out of his hold, staggering back from her effort. A bitter cold billowed through her, smothering the remains of fire's pleasantries.

“You knew.” Accusation twisting in her voice. Of course he knew, why else would he give you that crystal? Surely you didn't think Bea and Haddie were right.

But contrary to what Alyce expected, he said nothing. None of his mage facade revealing itself. His throat bobbed once when he swallowed, as if searching for the right words to say.

Finally, Kytes answered. “We only knew there was magic. Illicit runes or potential rogue, unregistered by Chapel or Sanctus. But now we know that's not the case.”

She narrowed her eyes on the word ‘rogue’. “Then what am I, if not that?”

His brows turned downward, a picture of concern. “Untrained, unaware,” he spoke softly. “But very powerful. You affect the waters as much as it affects you.”

“Neburh is blessed with lush sceneries and fruitful orchards.” Hollis relayed calmly, snapping Alyce's attention from student to teacher. “Water plentiful, in a county that receives little rainfall. So full of life that the Decay stops right outside Neburh's borders. The world outside your idyllic sanctuary is very different, my dear. It's clinging on, the cities and towns barricaded by runic pillars and spelled walls. But here, there is none of that.” Hollis scanned the landscape about them then raised aloft her chin, peering down at the trembling Alyce. “It's a powerful enchantment you've weaved, Colleen Alyce. Powerful enough that the Sanctus wishes to collect the caster.”

A blistering cold wracked her lungs, her exhaled breath wisped into a puff. “I will not leave Neburh,” she rasped.

A sharp bark jolted Alyce out of her fury and she stumbled back in time before a black and white furry mound trampled over her feet. Warmer air coursed back into the depths of her chest and clashed with the numbing sea she harbored. Her cheeks warmed as she sputtered and coughed. From the corner of her eye, she spotted Connall's hand shift at the top of his herding stick, his weathered fingers lightly drumming the cap and staff.

“It seems Mac is reminding me of the time.” Connall remarked coolly. “One of my flocks needs guiding away from this hill to one farther east.” His boots rustled through the grass as he waded toward Alyce.

The maid cast her eyes down, wringing her hands. She had never fallen prey to outbursts, especially not before the baron. Multiple excuses bubbled up, threatening to dribble apologies and desperate explanations but she bit them down, her teeth clamping down on her lower lip.

“Alyce, my dear. Are you alright?”

The tenderness in his voice made her heart swell with emotion and she forced herself to meet the baron's eyes.

Anxiousness and confusion clouded the control she usually bore. “No —.” The edges of her mouth trembled and she shook her head. "No, I'm not."

He offered her a reassuring smile, paired alongside a paternal gaze Alyce had seen once in awhile. “After all the excitement, I think I'm in need of a quick jaunt about the hills.” Connall shifted himself between Kytes and Alyce, breaking the line of sight. “I will ask the Esphyrs to return to the manor.” His easygoing smile disappeared when he turned his attention to Hollis. “I had never believed that two Sanctus mages would come only to deliver a mere warning. A missive would have sufficed. But further conversations can wait for later, when we are all in better spirits.” The staff's wooden cap creaked. “And the entire truth this time, Esphyrs. Why you've come to Neburh. No more half truths. I grow weary of them.”

Hollis drew up her hands, relenting her stance. “In better spirits then,” the woman agreed. “I'm in desperate need of it.” With a jerk of her chin, she motioned for Kytes to follow.

Alyce closed her eyes, listening to the fading brisk sweeps of fabric against the tall grass which marked Hollis’ departure. But another footfall was missing. One that was still precise, but more resolved and fell heavier than his mentor's.

“Esphyr Kytes, you should follow your teacher,” Connall said.

Silence followed, then a retreating pulse of boot on dampened earth. “Alyce, if it becomes hard to bear, remember to breathe,” Kytes reminded her softly.

A pivot and turn of the heels, the rustling of each retreating step, were terribly loud to her sensitive ears. Even with her eyes shut, it did little to dull the senses.

----------------------------------------

At autumn's close, night descended quicker, twilight pulling its cobalt shawl across the evening sky. Along the darkening tapestry were the sea of stars and the pearly moon, whole and haloed like a ghostly chalice filled with ethereal light. A ribbon of coral hue melted into the skies’ distant horizon, beckoned to rest.

Alyce tugged at her linen sleeves. The fabric was woven well, usually able to withstand the evening's bite, but the night today was cooler than most. Brisk winds often frollicked the taller eastern slopes, its grass open to the elements. There were no trees, no higher ground that would apprehend the wild gusts’; they would dance as they pleased.

“Come by, Fermac!”

But the dog did not heed the child's command, continuing to steer the sheep from the right and farther down the hill. Ryles squealed and chased after the fleeing hound, though truly to no avail. A herding dog left to his instincts would easily outrun an adult, let alone a child.

Alyce would normally stand and watch after her young charge, even toss a scolding when he tripped or tumbled. However, she sat in the cold grass, with her skirts laid about her, her entirety lacking the energy to stand. She could only watch the vanishing orange sky, turning dimmer with every passing breath.

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Why did it feel like night was approaching faster?

“What a sight.”

Alyce cranked her head up. The baron stood by her, his hands perched at the cap of his herding stick. His feet were firmly placed apart, planted well to weather the occasional gust. Connall’s eyes were focused on the faraway hills, daylight's end leaving traces on his face.

“Neburh, I mean.” He looked down, a twinkle in his eyes. “Though my son and his muddied hands and clothes are also a sight. I'll try to relieve you of the duty to see him bathed and cleaned. I would think you had enough ordeals for today.”

Alyce felt the corners of her mouth twitch. “If only all ordeals were as simple as persuading a child to wash.”

“Hmm.” Connall returned to his vigil, rolling back his shoulders. “Then life would be so very dull. Besides, a child will grow to become an adult, and one day, their choices will be their own to make.”

She weighted her hands against her legs, her thumbs pressed into the sides of her index fingers.

“I only hope he chooses to bathe on his own accord,” Connall continued. “Can you imagine if he still kept his habit of escaping baths? What wife would be able to stand a foul-smelling husband?”

A part of Alyce wanted to openly laugh. To this day, the baron's daily routine involved an hour's bath, a remaining relic imposed by his late baroness when she had still been alive.

“If he still refuses, perhaps he'll find someone like my lady Síle to set him straight.”

Connall's chuckled, a pleasant rumble, slow and consoling. “That would be a rare find. Most Colleens, let alone noble ones, do not dream about living in the countryside surrounded by sheep and apple trees.”

“You —.” She swallowed before managing to whisper. “Miss her.”

Alyce heard the thin draw of air, painstakingly long. “Aye, as do you, Alyce.” The man slowly bent his knees, groaning when several cracks popped between his joints, before settling himself upon the grass. “Our baroness who saw the beauty in normalcy and believed in the most enchanting of tales.” He set his cane by his side before leaning his weight back on his hands. “Though for the longest, I believed her stories were nonsense. Fantasies. For as long as I remember, Neburh had always been plagued with long droughts, our harvests mostly meager. But when Síle first arrived as a young wife, she would go on and on about what we were doing wrong, yapping about rituals and the like. A noble girl thinking that she knew better than a boy who lived on the land his whole life.”

Alyce leaned forward in interest. “I had always thought you both the most loving couple.”

He laughed. “I did not love her at the beginning, she was insufferable. I had begged my father to send her home, but her dowry was far too great to return. My people needed House Is'mar's coin, their wool quilts, and hardier sheep. So I had to yield, entertain her tales, until she told me the strangest thing.”

Connall's forehead wrinkled as if he struggled to recall a memory. “She shared with me a reading, a children's book about the old clans of Maresai. That the people before the unified governance, spoke to the nymphs. They could see nymphs as clearly as you and I, paid respect to them, lived with them, may have even taken some as wives and birthed families. The depiction of a harmonious relationship. But because of their ways clashing with certain beliefs, then the larger territory wars, those people and their secrets were wiped out, becoming lost.”

He sighed wistfully, thumping a hand against the earth. “She said the old clan that inhabited Neburh must have survived because of their relationships with the nymphs and we need only live with the spirits in the same fashion. She wanted Neburh to fall back upon archaic times and inconveniences when we were in the era of runic magic!” Connall had begun to wave his hands in animated emphasis, as if possessed by a younger soul. “I thought her mad and the people told me the same.”

Alyce ducked her head down to hide a smile.

“But there was one logical point she made in the midst of that mess.” Connall perched an elbow upon a bent knee, a thoughtful film over his eyes. “If Neburh grows less reliant on runes, we would save a lot more coin than wasting it on renewals. Things would be slower, inconvenient, but the people can learn to adapt and Neburh would survive all her seasons because the coffer would remain full enough to purchase and trade during the worst of circumstances.” He grinned. “She was right and even took it upon herself to learn and teach the people menial tasks to do by hand. To live in harmony with the natural elements and one another.

“Entrust the breezes and sunbeams to dry the laundry, till the earth and watch when it weakens, to dispose of things carefully to avoid sickness—.”

“Making a fire without a rune,” Alyce recalled, her eyes misting, remembering the ghost of an applause when she lit her first candle under the baroness’ careful supervision.

“Giving a home to children not your own.”

Connall's eyes were closed, a sad smile toiling on his face. “She believed just like the struggling earth, it was why we could not produce a child for so long. We needed to prove to the nymphs our willingness to look after others as we would our land. And so when she heard the plight of three orphaned girls, no mothers and their fathers unknown, Síle brought them into the household.”

Daughters in all but name. Alyce brushed her own fingers against her arms, her body remembering the tight embrace, her nose the lavender scent, her eyes the scene of being tucked into bed between raven hair Haddie and sweet Bea. The nobles and their rules would never change the fact I love you all as my own. The gentle brush of a mother's kiss on her forehead. The nymphs have already blessed me with wonderful girls, mine to cherish and I can only be thankful you've become part of my life.

A weight rested upon Alyce's shoulder and it was then she noticed the unsteady shake in his hand. “And as if she was truly a seer, a miraculous thing occurred. Though the rainfalls were still few and far between, our wells began to brim with water. Neburh's nymphs have seen our efforts and come to our aid. And our people began fervently practicing all the little inconveniences moreso. Although — her first wild tale about the old clan still sat with me.” Connall's hands fell back in his lap. “How did the clan that dwell upon these lands survive for so many generations? Perhaps they did form a bond with water. And magic, true gifts delivered to those people. It wouldn't be strange then if another born from these lands might be gifted such an affinity and in her happiness of being loved by her sisters and Síle, her adoration of her home, the child's powers grew.”

Alyce's eyes widened. “Then you knew?”

His fingers laced together, gripping then weakening, thoughtful consideration written on his face. Then he shook his head. “Nothing concrete, I never saw you in an obvious magical state like most mageborn I hear of, conjuring fire or brewing storms. And in truth, I assumed those inklings were my own delusions. I did not realize by ignoring them, you were paying a price, Alyce.” His head bowed, his low voice wavered. “I should have found someone to test you. That you could have learned what you were as a child. You wouldn't have needed to suffer, slowly, unknowingly, like the ordeals you had experienced today.”

Her mind raced, wondering the outcomes, the terrible possibilities that would have happened had she left Neburh.

“Then what would have become of our home?” Alyce asked, shifting to sit on her knees. She leaned forward to peer at the man's face. Perhaps it was because of dusk's light that she truly began to notice every wrinkled line that creased the baron's features. The deepening shadows sitting below his eyes.

“Just as Síle once said. People will learn to adapt. We would have found a way,” Connall told her. He raised gray eyes to meet hers. “The Esphyrs are right, Alyce. Without truly understanding the extent of your powers, you are placing yourself in danger and I was a witness to its vulnerability. And —.” He brushed away a traitorous tear that rolled down Alyce's face. “I've had enough of losing loved ones due to irresponsibility. I've been irresponsible for far too long.”

Stifling a sniffle, Alyce rocked her head from side to side. “My lord. Even if I had known, I wouldn't have wanted to leave.”

Hands trembling, Connall clasped his weathered ones over hers. “My daughter, in all but name. Had there been another way to keep you and the girls with us, not as maids, but as true wards. If only we could do away with the noble houses' severe reprimands.”

“Commoner children without ways to raise House Is'et's status higher, how could we be anything else?” Alyce clutched his hands tightly. “I still do not wish to leave.”

The man sighed, brows furrowed in deep thought. “Perhaps we should ask the Esphyrs. They may not have been entirely truthful, but nor did they lie. Such a magician's way of doing things.” He looked up, his gaze serious. “We can come to an accord, I would like to think. Especially if they do intend to stay and help us for the meanwhile.” With a light squeeze, he released his hold. “Tomorrow. We will have much to discuss with them. The Decay, your magic, and Neburh itself. So much has happened in the last few days. Síle would have been beside herself with excitement.”

----------------------------------------

It was the shriek that tore through Alyce's dreamless slumber and she woke screaming. Gone were the unhinged jaws, the nymph's howls and cries. The fingers that tore at her veins. But she still saw it, heard it. Living spectres that dwelled behind curtained lids.

She clamped her hands over her mouth, stifling her whimpers while tears rolled down her face.

Please be tears, nothing else. Just be regular tears —

Alyce forced herself to touch the delicate skin under her eyes.

Sticky, damp, no grains, no crystals.

She let out a stuttering breath, both in relief and disappointment.

“It was all just a dream then? A nightmare? It never happened.”

Her heart stammering loudly in her ears, she wrenched the covers off her sweating body. Bare feet staggered to the room's wash basin and her trembling fingers closed upon the vessel's edge. There was no mirror for her to check her appearance, the girls usually helped one another with that. But she could still discern her distorted reflection in the basin's water. Wild auburn hair and skin, a hazy gray.

A terrified howl. A man's. It tolled from far away. A pungent scent, thick with iron, enveloped the insides of her nose. She turned away in time and retched, nausea building at the pit of her stomach. Nothing came up, only heaving gasps, her saliva dribbling down her lips.

Wiping her mouth, Alyce straightened, cast one look at the water then submerged her face into the basin's waters.

The icy sensation pierced her pores and sank in between her eyelids. The water burned, swarming to the back of her throat, trapping life's breath. With great effort, she tore away, her waterlogged locks flinging droplets on to the floor. She sputtered, coughing up water and gulping for air, but besides her own labored efforts, she could only perceive the room's silence.

Alyce’s reddened eyes searched her roommates’ beds, both cold and empty, the sheets and quilts neatly tucked in. Atop each woman's pillow was a clipping of purple flowers accompanied by a stem with gray green leaves. Lavender, in hopes the others would rest easy without them. Neither Bea nor Haddie were coming home tonight.

The remaining water trapped in her hair gathered at the ends before fat drops splattered on the ground.

They couldn't have helped me anyways.

A thin shriek. A child's. It pinched deep in her head and Alyce squirmed, clawing at her ears. Then panic.

Ryles?

Alyce stumbled for the door, kicking aside her wooden pattens that blocked the way. With the door wide open, she flung herself out of the room.

The freezing night air swarmed at her, biting through her thin nightgown. Holding her breath, Alyce listened. The manor's halls were pitch black. No tearful cries. Silence.

“I've truly gone mad," she whispered, then a wheezing laugh. "Thyis, this is the fault of your daughter!"

She swerved her body and hobbled down the corridor; her trajectory, the manor's chapel.

The night clung to her wet hair and crept down her back, chilling her to the bone. Her teeth chattered, her bare soles burned as she padded across the stone floor.

The usual journey to a chapel should be one of prayer and peace. But Alyce's roaming was one of grudge and besiege.

She wrapped her hands around the iron handle and dragged open the chapel’s weighted door with all her strength. The hinges groaned, wailing as the cracked opening grew in size then she lurched inside, letting the door's weight slam behind her.

The chapel was wreathed in cold prismatic light, no lit candles or lanterns to give the sanctuary a warmer hue. The stained glass mural threw diffused shadows across the vaulted ceiling and walls.

Alyce's eyes locked on the golden figures to the right of the gleaming goddess. Beauties donned in citrine and blue. Graceful extended arms, the delicate lift in their hands, flowing hair and rippling dresses, such perfect and peaceful faces.

Fixated on the mural, her feet trudged across the chapel’s floors. Her lips curled into a smirk when she found nothing that resembled the cistern nymph. Crazy, angry, filled with despair.

Amongst the sapphire and gold, a ruby hue stole her attention and her eyes settled on the standing water nymph, a companion to one of the Lampades. The depiction looked just like her sisters, angelic, demure, forever serene. A slender hand rested across her breast, the other hand laced with fire's, the mingled glass amethyst hue.

Weren't water and fire opposing elements?

She stepped closer to the mural, then another shushing footfall, her vision sweeping from orange to blue. Cerulean light washed down the fabrics of her gown, the golden glass warming her pale skin.

“Colleen Alyce?” A voice called out from behind.

She whirled around, peering into the shadows with a certain calm. Her eyes rested upon a rising figure, cloaked in his usual black coat, embroidered at the hems with crimson thread. His garb was entirely black, having changed out of the clothes he worn during the day.

“Aren't you —.” She saw his eyes flicker down to her bare feet then upward. Color flooded his cheeks and he was quick to avert his gaze. “Cold?”

She blinked several times, wrapping her fingers against the nightgown's skirts. It was made of a breathable material, light and —

Alyce looked down, and within moments, realization struck. She had gone traipsing about in her sleeping wear, and the damp material clung to every curve on her upper body. She gasped, pivoting around to hide her shame.

Perhaps it was the timbre of her inhale or the sharp rush from her throat. She heard a scream. A female's, sobbing and helpless. The cry flooded Alyce's hearing, enveloped her in fear.

“Colleen!” Kytes darted forward, in time to observe her hands attempting to find purchase of her hair and grab at the locks at her scalp.

He yanked them back, bringing down her wrists to their sides.

“Alyce.”

Shaking her head, she struggled to wave away the discord only she could hear.

“I hear screams, but not only hers, there's others —.”

“It is her lament you hear. And you haven't ways to stop your mind from ignoring it,” he said firmly, readjusting his grip. She was strong, the strength cultivated by her daily work. “I mentioned it before, they don't experience time as we do. When she laments, she's forever trapped in a memory, the past. You can't stay there with her. Breathe, Alyce. You have to focus on the present.”

“The present —.”

He leveled his head to hers, meeting her bleary eyes. “Yes, the now. Five things you can see, right here. Describe them to me.”

Alyce swallowed hard, her eyes racing from his to focus on something past his head. Sprawled across the ground, like constellations against a dark sky, several crystals sparkled under the moonlight. Each stone's brilliant colors cascaded upon the stony sea, turning the shadows beneath it into a jeweled pool.

“There — there are crystals behind you,” she managed to say. “Different colors, blue, green, black, red, and — a few that are pearly white.” She blinked rapidly, returning to him. “Why are they on the ground?”

He gave her a smile. “I can tell you that later. Four things you can feel. Tell me.”

She wriggled her toes and shuddered. “The floor is cold.” A soft blush touched her skin. “My nightgown and the water I dashed upon it.” There was a light tap at her wrists and she looked up into umber eyes. Upon closer inspection, they were a reddish brown, warmer than what she once believed. And she was thankful he had chosen to observe only her face. “Your hands.”

He gave her a light squeeze before releasing her. “Now, three things that you hear.”

She closed her eyes. Besides the pair, the chapel was empty. The sanctuary's walls were thick and kept the winds' din outside.

“My own voice, I suppose.”

Something weighted was wrapped around her shoulders and her hair carefully lifted over it. The coat's hem and cloak traveled a little past her thighs, otherwise, it fitted her easily. The front was pulled close, the fine wool rustling as it was tightened.

“Buttons that are fighting the eyelets.”

That prompted a chuckle. “I don't usually dress others.”

“And yours.”

A shy laugh. “That'll do. Two things you smell.”

Alyce frowned but took in a deep breath. “The air is bitter and stings because of the cold. And —.”

Her fingers grazed the surface of the unfamiliar clothing. She could still feel the residual warmth.

“Your coat.” She lowered her chin. “The scent is a kind of spice.”

“Must be the payn ragoun. I have some in the pocket, which reminds me —.” He slipped his hand back into his coat and pulled out a parcel.

A snap drew her attention to Kytes, who broke off the edge of the confection and handed her the amber fragment.

“Lastly, one thing you taste.”

She slipped the sugar onto her tongue. Vibrancy filled her mouth, bright and keen. Her saliva thickened as she tried to melt the candied ginger. “Oh, it's —.” She grimaced, glaring at Kytes, who was grinning back. “It's really sweet, it's horrible.”

He leaned forward to store the parcel back in his coat. “And now you know why I despise it. That was very good, Colleen. Do you feel better?”

Alyce breathed slowly. The spiced scent still tickled her nose and tongue. The brush of his hand against her waist as he fiddled with the pocket. She sighed with relief.

“I don't hear it anymore.”

“Then it worked.” Kytes straightened, waving his hands in front of him. “No magic required.”

She couldn't help but smile as he sauntered back to his crystals. “It was that simple then?”

He looked back at her, a mischievous light playing in his eyes. “Simple for me —.” Then he faltered, the muscles at his jaw tightening. “Because I know how to fight those laments.” He crouched down to inspect one of the stones.

She swallowed. “What should I do?”

Kytes plucked a crystal into his hand and brought it to his chest. Tilting her head with curiosity, Alyce knelt by his side to observe. A blue light pulsed deep within his fist then he released his grip, revealing an opalescent stone. Engraved on its pearl like surface was the same rune that sought to help her earlier that day. He handed it out to her.

“Another crystal? But I – I broke the blue one you gave me! I cannot risk shattering another!”

“Runic mages serve and aid mankind, and the ones with fire take on the role of order and protector.” He placed it in her hand and wrapped her fingers around it. “My fire had done exactly what I expected and more. And this moonstone will do even better. Until the day you — want to learn about your powers, let me help you.”

“I've nothing to pay you with,” she whispered. “I haven't even shown you how to make fire by hand.”

“Your forgiveness.” He looked at her seriously. “We couldn't be entirely truthful because there were multiple uncertainties. What we would find and any mention of illicit runes, the suspicions, would only cause panic. But even so, Hollis and I will still keep our promise —.”

“As long as you help Neburh, the best that you can.” She opened her hand and grazed the crystal's surface. It shared its warmth eagerly, lulling her into comfort. “I'm sorry about today.”

“It wasn't my wish for you to find out like that, either. But we are in the present now, aren't we?”

Alyce drew the coat closer. “Yes.”

Seeing her shiver, Kytes offered a hand. “You should return to bed.”

“What of you?”

Kytes gestured at the remaining crystals. “I've these to look after. At least until sunrise.”

“Then might I stay here?” Sensing his hesitancy, Alyce assured him. “My roommates aren't at the manor, our room cold and empty, and with how the day was, I really don't want to be left alone.”

When his eyes widened, she quickly added. “If the girls were here, I wouldn't ask such a thing. I only — want company.”

Running his hand through his hair, Kytes considered their surroundings. “It won't be comfortable.”

“That's alright.” She rose to her feet, navigating carefully around the crystals and plopped herself onto the empty bench. “Comfort in the heart is what I need right now.”

As she managed to lay down on the length of the bench, Kytes sat on the floor in front.

Perhaps it was the silence in her ears and peace in her mind. Perhaps it was the crystal's warmth in her hand. Alyce found comfort in being near the young fire mage, hearing him breathe quietly as they rested.

“Esphyr, would you tell me about the crystals? Why do you have them all about you?”

“A moonbath.”

She giggled. “A what?”

“Every full moon, Colleen,” Kytes explained, gentle and kind. “I cleanse the crystals I use under the moonlight so that the runes I engrave with my fire will hold longer, without influence from potential conflicting energy.”

“And you do this every full moon?”

“Yes.”

She tucked her legs in so the bottom of her gown would cover her calves. “And if I choose to learn magic, would I need to do this?”

Her rustling made him turn. Their eyes met for a moment before his flitted to his coat and he attempted to pull the shoulder cape over her. “From what I know, natural water mages have their own rituals during the new and full moon, such as collecting moonlight, making moonwater.”

“Collecting moonlight, moonwater,” she repeated. “You make magic seem not frightening at all, Esphyr Kytes. Mystifying, enchanting. Beautiful.”

“Oh but magic is beautiful. Captivating but frightening, both attractive and menacing.”

She hummed thoughtfully and closed her eyes. “And that charms you, Esphyr?”

“Yes, very much so.”

She felt his back’s shadow cast over her again.

Perhaps it was because she saw his efforts in helping others. Perhaps it was because his demands of payments were not demands at all.

“I don't want to leave my home.”

She clenched the warm moonstone to her chest, praying he would understand.

“I know.”