“I’m worried about you, Rendy,” Anilla said.

“I’m worried about me, too,” Orenda said as she followed the advice of her staff and stopped at a door that had been almost directly in front of them. She would have to do this here- in the hall of corpses.

“You look really bad,” Anilla said, “You’re hurt.”

“I want to save the potions for the queen,” Orenda told her, “I may have to fight her.”

The wards here were so powerful that Orenda could feel them without even putting her hand against the door. This was the thing that she had mistaken for a group of powerful mages. It radiated so strongly that she knew, had she been in her right mind, she would have been intimidated. As it was, she was still having great difficulty feeling anything at all.

So she knelt, and she rolled out the kit that Gareth had taught her to use, and slowly, one by one, she made minute, small adjustments to clockwork pieces until she felt them slide into place. It was difficult to do without knowing what the key was supposed to look like, and Orenda wondered how long it would be until backup arrived for the soldiers she had slain. She tried not to think about them. She knew she would likely have to kill again, before the day was out, and she tried not to think about that, either.

“Watch my back,” Orenda told Anilla, “Keep an eye out for me. I don’t know how many more are coming.”

“Do you think,” Anilla asked, after a few long minutes of silence, “That sometimes good people do horrible things, for good reasons? Or do you think that all bad things are bad?”

“I think there are no good people, Ani,” Orenda said, “We’re… Xac was right. We’re all going to die, and I suppose I’m going to deserve it. It must have really… really fucked him up. To be made to… forced to… those Urillians saw it as a sport.”

The first of god knew how many tiny, tiny metal pieces slid into place, and Orenda held it there as she moved on to the next.

“Yes,” Anilla agreed. “I hope Sonny and Mary Sue are alright.”

“They’re made of sterilite,” Orenda said as another piece slid into place. “I’m so, so sorry, Ani but I can’t talk right now. I can’t think. If I think, I’ll break down. I can’t do it. I have to get in here. I’m so close to the artifact. And if this one doesn’t work I… I don’t know what I’m going to do. This is my last hope. If this one doesn’t work, I will die today, and I will deserve it. But the Order won’t. If they capture me and they take me to Xandra and she can see inside my head… I know too much. So I can’t let that happen. I can’t let them take me alive. Either this artifact works, or I die today.”

Another piece clicked into place.

“I’m sorry, Rendy,” Anilla said.

“I could have married Felaern,” Orenda said, “I could have forgotten about the Order and taught magic to children, until the revolution came. I could have married Toli, and spent the rest of my life sailing the sea. I could have stayed with Gareth, after I finally found him. I could have gotten here faster and warned Xaxac, or gone to Bubby and Ali and traveled with a djinn. I could have done so many things, Ani, and I think I made… I think life is a series of choices, and I make consistently bad ones.”

Another piece clicked into place as Orenda thought of Bubbider’s child, and the world she wanted to give it. Was a world created by someone like her really worth having?

“This is the world though,” Anilla said. “There is no world where you did things differently. This is what’s happening now.”

“You’re right,” Orenda said as the final piece slid into place and she turned the lock, “This is the world. There is no other.”

She tugged on her balaclava, then slid on her gloves and stood. She pushed open the door, and saw the ward, so thick that it was visible with her physical eyes, visible to non-mages. It pulsated blue, and flowed like water. Orenda thought that was odd. Xandra was an earth elf. There would be no reason for her to cast out of her element. The ward made no sense. It didn’t even move like a normal water spell, it grew from the ground up like an earth spell. It was, without a doubt, a water spell that had been cast by an earth mage.

Orenda thought that Xandra had lost her mind.

Then she took a moment to appreciate the feeling of sterilite against her skin.

And stepped through the ward.

It felt like nothing, nothing at all, and she wondered if this was how the Brigaddons lived. As soon as she was across the threshold she ripped off the mask and took in the room.

It was filled with wonders.

The sorts of things that were neatly arranged on those shelves were the sort of things that should be in museums, or given to scholars. There was an entire shelf of books that looked old and worn, and Orenda wanted more than anything to go through them. There were outfits hung up on walls that gave off intense magical energies, in many colors, but all on one shockingly small size. There was armor of every kind and style, from the smallest pieces to full sets. There were weapons of every imaginable type, some hung on walls, some on shelves. There were all types of jewelry, all of which radiated with magical energy, and all sorts of boxes of all sizes and shapes.

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The artifact lies in that chest, master. The staff said when Orenda’s eyes fell upon a medium-sized chest, one of many and not particularly distinct or magical. Orenda walked up and tried to open it, but, of course, it was locked.

She sighed and fell to her knees, peeled off her gloves, and once again unrolled the lock-picking kit. There were magical wards as well, again she felt the spells, flowing like water but growing like earth- but they dissipated as soon as she touched it.

She didn’t know what to make of that.

The injuries she had sustained were beginning to throb, and Orenda realized that her adrenalyn, or whatever had pulled her through the fight, was wearing off. She felt weary, but she had to keep moving forward. The task was slow, repetitive, and required every ounce of her concentration- but the situation was strange, and she didn’t understand why the wards had dissipated without her having to do anything.

The artifact calls out to you, master. The staff said, It longs to be whole.

“That’s great,” Orenda said.

“Oh what fresh hell is this?” The voice was youthful, but strangely jaded. It sounded like a teenage Urillian boy. “I… I can’t… I just… can’t… I need… I can’t.”

“Hello,” Anilla said, and Orenda cursed and tried to move quickly.

“A halfling?” The boy had the thickest Urillian accent Orenda had ever heard. She barely understood him over the twang; he was worse than Sarya.

“You have really pretty eyes,” Anilla said.

“Did you… I mean I just… I notice… there are more corpses than usual,” The boy said, and Orenda disliked his voice. Everything he had said had been stupid and obvious, but that could be forgiven, because often when things are shocking one says the stupid and obvious, to make sure that they are correctly identifying that which is strange. What she disliked was the way he spoke quietly and mumbled, the way he spoke like one who did not think he was allowed to speak.

“Yes,” Anilla said.

“That’s… I mean… that’s… not… it’s not great,” the boy said. “I just… I really don’t need this right now. Why are you here? Did you stow away?”

“No,” Anilla said.

“Did you… make… these folks… dead?” the boy asked.

“No,” Anilla said.

“Ok,” the boy said. “I need to um… I need to get in there.”

“I’m not supposed to let anybody in,” Anilla said.

“I mean… these folks… they weren’t supposed to let anybody in… but now I’m lookin at um… and I’m thinking… maybe there’s somebody already in there? And that’s… that’s not ideal.”

“Your soul is so pretty!” Anilla said.

“I don’t… what?” The boy asked.

“Oh my god,” Anilla said.

The halfling will betray you, master.

“It’s different colors, but it looks just like my friend Orenda’s,” Anilla said, “You’re soulmates!”

“No,” The boy mumbled, “I’m married.”

“But it does!” Anilla said, “I’m looking right at it!”

“No,” The boy said with great sorrow, “That’s… no. That’s a myth.”

“Rendy!” Anilla said, “Come and look at this guy’s soul!”

“Holy shit,” The boy said, and Orenda jerked her head to look behind her. A teenage Urillian boy was staring at her from the other side of the magic barrier. He was tinted blue by the barrier, but she could see that he couldn’t have been older than sixteen or seventeen. He may have been younger than that, but Urillians were small in general. He was even shorter than Tolith had been at his age, but in much better shape. He actually looked like he could have been one of the soldiers, one of the fighters, but Orenda wondered if there were some sort of height requirement.

He was wearing a Urillian military uniform, and his long, presumably blond hair was pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. He had a sword and shield crossed on his back, and Orenda wondered why the hell Anilla wasn’t doing anything.

“Holy shit,” he said again, then asked, “What are you doing?” then demanded, “Don’t do that! Don’t get in there! You can’t be in there!”

“He’s kinda cute, Rendy,” Anilla said, but Orenda couldn’t see what she was talking about. She couldn’t see his magic signature over the powerful ward, so she went back to picking the lock.

“Seriously!” the boy warned, “Don’t do that! Please!” He began to cry as he begged, and Orenda had to sympathize. From his end this would look even worse than it actually was. “Please don’t do that! I’m begging you, don’t do that!”

When she paid him no attention, the boy asked Anilla, “Her name is Orenda?”

“Yup!” Anilla said, and Orenda felt her rage building. This was the exact opposite of what she had asked Anilla to do. There was being optimistic, and then there was being stupid. There was absolutely no reason for this boy to still be standing!

“Orenda, please, I’m begging you! Please, listen to me! You can’t do that! It’s dangerous!”

“Anilla, will you please do something with that boy?” Orenda snapped, “Before he brings a whole slew of them?”

“Orenda, listen to me!” The boy pleaded, “You don’t want what’s in that chest, I swear! I promise! It’s the worst thing you could possibly- look I… please just… just… I can’t let you take it. I can’t. I won’t let it hurt you! You’re so young! Look at you- holy shit.”

It seemed as if he stopped breathing.

“Where’d you get that staff?” The boy asked, “Did you pull it out of a pillar of fire above a boiling lake of lava?” When Orenda didn’t respond, he went on, “Does it… talk to you? Does it tell you that it loves you? That you’re special? That you’re powerful? Does it tell you that the artifact belongs to you, because you’re the chosen one? That it sits at the heart of the temple and it belongs to you and you need it because then you’ll become more powerful than you ever imagined?”

Orenda felt the last piece slide into place, but she paused and turned to look at him.

“What’s your name?” Orenda asked the boy.

“I’m Klin,” the boy said, “I’m the Chosen One.”