What Mouse didn’t tell Taiga - or rather didn’t know how to convey - was the burst of clicks melded in between the scraping of metal and gurgled cries of agony. It grew and whispered, leading him through the trees. A child’s laughter beckoned him to the lake, and the crushing of trees sapped his attention.

There was no ‘why’, but the word cried, bound amongst the screeching and winds blowing against the trees. And just as the word came to him, silence was left in its wake. And in answer, Mouse’s feet began towards the water. Taiga’s voice had shaken him from the Guardian’s enrapture.

“Hey, are you okay?” Taiga knelt down beside him, the campfire’s light flickering over his dark face.

Mouse broke his gaze with the flames, and glanced around them. The mercenaries all slept a short distance away. The outsider sat close enough for the flame’s light to flicker against her, as she stared out across the field. She did it often, and sat patiently without a fuss. Mouse’s instinct told him she waited for something, but Mouse couldn’t guess as to what.

They were about halfway into their nightshift, watching over the outsider. The local guild commissioner was in a town just to the east of Applegate, and while they’d started the journeys the sun disappeared beyond the horizon, they decided to rest and make the rest of the trek at sun up. It meant one more day with the mercenaries, then they’d be free. Since they were near a Guardian’s territory, Taiga decided they’d return to Applegate after the handover instead of returning to the guild hall. It meant two days less with those disgusting mercenaries.

“I’m fine. Looking forward to freedom.” Mouse poked the flames with his stick. Taiga smiled and stood. Taiga’s hand slid over the top of his head, ruffling his hair. Mouse let him, ignoring his curls falling over his eyes. When Taiga finished, Mouse swept his hair back and out of his face.

“Hey,” the outsider half whispered to them. Mouse turned just enough to keep her in view. Her hands were tied together in her lap, with the lead tied to a stake near Taiga. “You two seem more reasonable. Would—”

“You mean naive, right?” Taiga replied cooley. She paused, pursing her lips in thought.

“No, I meant reasonable,” her voice lost some of its confidence. Mouse heard an ‘mhmm’ from Taiga.

“Look, aren’t you at least curious about what I was researching?”

“Not really,” Taiga replied.

“I’m not a spy! Believe me.”

“I believe you’ve said that four times now.”

The outsider, what was her name, Rami, paused, her shoulders dropping. After a minute or so, she decided on a new tactic. “There’s something wrong. I’ve studied the magics and how they flow in the world. And there’s something wrong.”

Mouse remembered the outsider had been reported for spreading falsities and fear amongst the people. But it was about magic? It was unexpected, to say the least.

“The balance of different magics is off! I am from Monx, I admit. But only to assess the imbalance of magics.” She turned her whole body towards them now, her green-brown eyes steady, and Mouse couldn’t sense a hint of lie.

He ventured, “what do you mean, imbalance?”

Her eyes lit up. “My bag! In my bag, there’s a red bound notebook. I can show you!” She rose to her knees, patting the space in front of her. Her excitement annoyed Mouse, but his curiosity won.

“Mouse?” Taiga bumped his arm gently with his. He spoke softly, “What is it?”

“The Guardian Spirits,” he murmured in reply.

“Corruption due to an imbalance?” Taiga weighed this a moment. He turned, and took a few steps towards her bag, keeping the campfire in his line of sight.. He flicked the top open and drew back the drawstring. After rummaging a moment, he pulled out a red, leather-bound book.

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“Yesssss, that’s it!” Rami exclaimed. She hopped on her knees a bit, beckoning them over.

Her excitement made Taiga frown. “Stop being so suspicious.”

He handed the book to Mouse. He accepted it, and flipped it open. Inside, scribbles written in pen lined tightly across the pages. Sometimes, poorly drawn diagrams and pictures broke the monotonous script. Mouse took a moment to read over a page he flipped to, but between the messy penmanship, curled characters, and complex jargon, Mouse could only manage to read a few words; “the,” “and,” “if.”

His literacy wasn’t the highest, he knew. Taiga had taught him when they were younger, but it was never a skill he’d excelled at. But this? He doubted even Taiga could read it. He flipped through a few more pages before giving up. He handed it back to Taiga, whose brow raised as he turned the pages.

“Do you… write your notes in a foreign language?” Taiga asked after a minute.

“It’s in Anish and Western Monx.” The continental language for Anu? Mouse had doubts, since even he could read that. And while he couldn’t read the Monx language or dialects, Taiga could.

“Tell me about the imbalance part,” Mouse took the book from Taiga and put it down in front of Rami. The woman watched him place her book down and sit across from her on the grass. Taiga remained standing, but peered over Mouse while keeping watch on the fire and snoozing mercenaries.

“Okay, look. This world is made up of a lot of magics, right? Sirens, Shifters, even the Demons and the Ganakri all have their own kinds of magic.”

“I know this,” Mouse huffed. What was the point if she stated the obvious.

“Yeah, but all their magics are sourced from the earth, the world. And mixtures of corruption and pure magics permeate everything, everywhere. Even those different magics are made up of varying mixes of these two main magics. Got it?”

This wasn’t something Mouse knew specifically, but if it was true, it wasn’t a surprise. He glanced up at Taiga, who watched around them. When Mouse caught eye contact with Taiga, he nodded, confirming the woman’s statement.

“Oh? I’m surprised a mercenary out in the boonies would know that.” The woman smiled, looking over the rims of her glasses Taiga.

“I know enough,” was all Taiga replied.

“Get to the part about the imbalance.” Mouse didn’t have much patience, but what he did have disappeared quicky.

“Okaaaaay,” she rolled her eyes, “well the balance between pure and corrupt magics? It’s off.”

“What do you mean, off?” Taiga asked, folding his arms over his chest.

Rami smiled, as if he’d taken the bait. “The famine in Monx, the droughts in Sashume. They aren’t normal. Lanria probably has issues too, although if there is, they aren’t telling.” The corruption of the Guardians came to mind.

“There is something, isn’t there?” The woman’s smile widened at him, and she scooted closer to him.

“No,” Mouse lied. Her eyes lingered on him. “Yes, but none of your business.” He bit his lip. How Taiga could lie so easily stumped him.

“Is that why you snuck into Lanria? To find some perceived weakness?” Taiga redirected the conversation with ease.

“I told you, I’m not a spy.”

“So you just wandered into Lanria looking for a weakness due to a supposed imbalance.”

She sighed, “No, I’m looking for what’s causing the imbalance. It’s well known how advanced Lanria’s research into magic is. I thought I might find some clues. I don’t even know which magic is spinning out of control, or what’s causing the breakdown of magics. But it’s wide-spread, meaning it’s been an issue for a while now. Things will only get worse unless the balance is restored.”

Mouse caught Taiga looking at him, and they held eye contact long enough for them to confirm each other’s thoughts. Whatever the imbalance is, it’s causing the Guardians to corrupt. So they needed to find this source.

“Soooooo,” Rami cleared her throat, “I have more information I can share with you. I just need you to—”

“No.” Taiga cut her off.

“You’re not even listening to me.”

“You want us to let you go in exchange for more information, right?”

“It’s only fair.”

“And you’ve been keeping watch and trying to distract us this whole time. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” Taiga looked out towards the field she’d been watching nonstop.

Mouse saw her eyes wander, her lips pursed in annoyance. He took another peak at the journal. He picked it up and turned a page. A horrible illustration of a demon was scribbled into the bottom of the page. Extended arms, teeth protruding from its mouth, liquid seeping from the holes where eyes should be. He’d seen many of these in his years as a knight, and most recently after the Guardian’s death.

In the margins, he managed to make out the words “disgusting” and “putrid stench.” An arrow pointed towards it, and his eyes followed it up. Between the scribbles of writing, he made out “reasons for existence?” He’d seen enough. He closed the book.