1.03 - M

As the trio walked down the streets of Pleariss, aiming for the eastern portion of the Free City, it was inevitable that they’d have to pass through the Treyni River. And even after living in the City of Orchards for more than half a decade, Malina couldn’t help but stop and look at the incredible sight of it.

Malina had seen how maps depicted it, one of such proudly displayed in the mansion’s library – payment for the time the Coven helped with the birth of a cartographer’s daughter. In the drawing, the Treyni River was always this serpent rising from the southern sea, slithering north and then east before disappearing into the Rift, a dozen other smaller rivers branching out from it and satiating the thirst of this part of the continent.

In person, however, it was much more impressive. The river itself was so wide someone on one side could barely see the other shore. Deep enough that most sea ships could continue their travel up the continent without major worries, only having to prepare themselves for whatever was calling the water home that season – and being an ecosystem of its own, the inhabitants changed.

Thankfully, the Children kept a pretty neat system to keep track of the monsters, using their own Abilities to commune with nature and ensure nothing too large – or too powerful – would end up stemming the flow of merchants and tourists. They had also done far more than that, and one of their creations was the only thing that allowed the quick trade between the two sides of town without resorting to a small boat.

They called it the Viridian Bridge – a great construction that connected both sides of Pleariss, made of coiled vines that dug into the soft riverbed to serve as support pillars and joined each other to make the path. Towering trees grew from the sides of the bridge like natural columns, arching inwards until their tops joined in the middle to protect the walkers from the sun’s heat. Many even produced fruits, though much larger versions that had more often than not caused accidents due to their falling.

Wide enough for eight carriages to travel side by side, the Viridian Bridge was one of the jewels of the city alongside the breathtaking vine-covered walls that kept Pleariss safe. There was just one tiny problem.

It was too long. Half a dozen kilometers long, in fact. If you had a wagon, the time it would take to go through would not be that much of a bother, especially if you had some enchantments on it – but on foot?

It meant an hour of walking at the very least. And that’s why a very pouty Lissandra was arguing with Malina before they stepped on it, talking a few meters away from the first checkpoint of the Bridge, hidden between two buildings.

“It will only take one Whisper! Don’t tell me you wanna do the track on foot?”

“We will not control their minds for a quick ride, Lissandra! How about we just ask them first?”

“Well, fine. But you’ll be the one to do it. Those things smell disgusting.”

Malina looked over the Muse’s shoulders once more, and bit her lower lip. She fought the repulsion down, trying not to let it show on her face, and stepped past Lissandra with all the confidence she could muster. Malina still took a deep breath as she left the alley – and immediately gagged as the river breeze brought the creatures’ smell.

Grave Crawlers were definitely on the podium when it came to most disgusting mounts one could ride. Not only because of the dark tentacles writhing from their open, circular maw – or the fact it was a giant, fat maggot writhing around and secreting fluid all over its passage like a slug.

What really made them revolting was the smell. Rotten flesh and warm sweat, bile and week-old saliva. It was a mix one could not compare to anything else, and one so foul there were heavy restrictions to their passage in most cities. The fact they were allowed at all inside Pleariss was a testament to the city’s effort in trying to be hospitable to all species.

Malina approached the creatures with a hand over her nose, desperately wanting to vomit but keeping her stomach in place in an exercise of pride, and knocked on the wagon’s side. She heard some shuffling inside before a head peaked out of the yellowed canvas.

Two seemingly blind eyes blinked at her, the bluish grayness of them making Malina take a step back in surprise before the older man noticed her covering her nose and turned around.

“Yarrien! Didn’t I tell you to burn the Corpse Roses? That’s why no one came for our papers, you fool!”

The shout made Malina flinch harder, a reaction that the man noticed. He put on a certified merchant’s smile and softened his eyes, hiding the dead irises.

“And what can I do for you, Miss? You aren’t part of the Rangers, are you?”

Malina shook her head, suddenly smelling a sweet smoke from somewhere within the wagon. The witch heard another person grumble behind the merchant and finally lowered her hand as more of the smoke drifted low to the ground. The smell of the Grave Crawlers was practically gone.

“No sir. I was actually looking for a ride to the other shore? Yours was the only wagon around so I came to ask.”

The merchant paused and looked around, seeing that he was the only one ready to go through the Viridian Bridge in the middle of the night.

“Huh. Well, a ride? I can do that – not like there isn’t space in here. Though I can’t help but ask for some compensation.”

He spoke expectantly, one hand open towards her, and Malina blinked in sudden understanding. She looked around for her money pouch and pulled it from her belt. The sound of jingling coins made the merchant’s ears perk up.

Malina finally chose what she thought was a fair amount, biting her lip in indecision.

“Uh, will five gold suffice?”

She let the coins drop on the merchant’s hand, and he took a long look at the glinting amount. His eyes were hidden even further as his cheeks rose into a warmer grin, and pocketed the payment.

“Well, do go in, young miss! The name’s Revold. Merchant, collector and avid entrepreneur. A pleasure to be meeting you.”

He took off his hat, a feathered thing with a wide brim, and hugged it close to his chest in what seemed like a bow. Malina’s cheeks reddened.

“Um, I’m Malina – a pleasure as well, I mean.”

“A beautiful name for a gorgeous young lady, yes. Now come in, the Grave Crawlers might not look like it but they are surprisingly fast. We’ll get you to the other side in no time – might I interest you in some of my wares as well? A pretty thing like you would become even more beautiful with a matching jewel, and I’ve got just the thing, straight from Gjena.”

“Uh – well, I’d be glad to check it out, but, I was meaning to tell you there’s someone else coming with me. My older sister.”

The merchant nodded.

“Of course, of course. It wouldn’t do for you to go around alone at night.”

He smiled widely, making Malina relax – only to thrust a hand forward.

“Five gold.”

***

Merchant Revold became incredibly accommodating after the small tariff had been paid.

The man even managed to open up some space for Malina and Lissandra to sit, piling wooden boxes high enough to reach the canvas that protected the wagon’s inside. Thankfully, the younger man working on the wagon, Yarrien, was quick enough with a rope that he managed to secure the cargo with only a few expert knots tied on a couple of hooks placed on the inner walls of the vehicle – a piece of useful decoration that the witch took as indicative of how much cargo Merchant Revold usually carries around.

Malina also realized how similar Yarrien and the older merchant were. Not in that uncanny way of children and parents, looking so alike it felt like you were seeing the same person with different ages, but there was something about their hawk-like nose and the way they always seemed to have an eyebrow raised in mirth that spoke of either a familial relationship or years spent together.

The girl shook her head, dismissing the thought. Heedless of her musings, Yarrien left the wagon’s front to search for one of the Wild Rangers, hurrying to kickstart their travel after a pointed nod from Revold. Malina took the opportunity to focus back on the conversation going on between the Muse and the merchant.

“I was not aware this city held such beauty, Miss Lissandra. Though your eyes... Pleariss really has many surprises, huh?”

Revold had been staring at the Siren’s slitted pupils as if in a trance, his pale cheeks gaining the greenish color of a bruise. Lissandra grinned as she spoke.

“I could say the very same thing. Have you arrived recently? I dare say I would have heard if a merchant as exotic as yourself had been in the city for long.”

Malina watched him wave a dismissive hand at the comment. Revold had kept the hat off, and his short pale hair stood like small spikes from his scalp, the color not so different from Malina’s own platinum strands, though a bit duller. She noticed the lines circulating his neck and face – a thin, grayer trace that marked his kind and hinted at their true nature.

Malina suppressed a shudder at the knowledge.

“Not at all, not at all. There’s bound to be far more interesting merchandise on these streets. Pleariss is the City of Encounters after all. And about that first question, we arrived yesterday morning – it’s just that it took a long time to get our papers fully processed, especially because of those big boys outside.”

Revold pointed a thumb at the Grave Crawlers, and Malina couldn’t help but interfere at the implication.

“Are you saying you sailed with them?”

“Of course! Beli and Drir have been with me since I was a wee thing. Those two have seen more continents than most kings, no doubt – and I just couldn’t leave them back home, could I? They get anxious if I’m far away for too long.”

Malina didn’t have the words to rebuke such a logic – though the idea of herding over-sized vermin onto a ship felt enough like a logistical nightmare that anyone willing to do such a thing ought to be mad. Or rich. Or both.

Her first impression of the merchant plunged slightly, making Malina wearier. Lissandra, however, seemed to have found great fun at the man’s passion for his pets, giggling a bit.

“Oh, you must tell us a story or two about that! It can’t be easy to find a captain willing to board them – or to have the money to bribe the unwilling. Unless you’ve only been traveling with other Palefolk?”

Revold scratched his head for a moment, smiling under the blush, and Malina wondered if Lissandra’s charm was Sorcery or just virtue of the woman being herself. Regardless, the merchant kept those dead white eyes of his respectful – and that was already more than Malina had expected from him.

“Only a few times actually. We don’t usually become sailors – or captains, for that matter. There are some around, but… they tend to be more pirate-y than I’m comfortable with. I usually go along with the weirder ships – they tend to care a lot less as long as the Corpse Roses keep on burning.”

For the first time Lissandra showed Revold something other than a smile. The Siren scrunched her nose lightly, a delicate motion that made her lips pucker and her eyes suddenly a lot wetter. They shone for a second as Revold choked on his own breath.

Malina’s eyes, meanwhile, began to gleam with a different light. The girl could barely contain herself from spewing the question that bubbled up, fighting against her desire to know which ships the merchant had been on board of and wondering if any of them were part of the fabled ones she had read about.

She shuddered on her seat, the creak of the wood drawing attention to herself, and both adults turned to her. Lissandra’s forked tongue slithered out, then resumed the conversation with a question.

“Weirder ones? Like what?”

Revold seemed to find some confidence – enough to straighten his spine, puff his chest, and look more like the merchant he was. The man leaned forward, like someone telling a secret.

“Ever heard of the Floating Muck? It’s–”

“The Sea Conclave’s ship! The only boat crewed by Shroomies! You’re joking, right? Is it really made of stone?”

Malina almost headbutted the man with how fast she moved, eyes wide at the mention of one of the most mysterious boats to still travel across the seas. Revold grinned with pride.

“Indeed it is. Though the bottom is some kind of mud or something like that. I wanted to take a piece of it with me, but the captain denied – and they were more than hospitable, so I didn’t press. We even stayed in one of the caves. Yarrien could tell you more about it if you want. He was already traveling with me when I met the crew.”

Starry eyed, the girl squealed in excitement. She nodded so quickly her head almost fell off, ignoring the sigh she heard from Nin. At her side, Lissandra smiled at the scene before speaking.

“And this time? Did you board another great ship like that or…”

The Siren let the words fade, and Revold’s shoulders slumped slightly.

“Sorry to disappoint, but it was a friend of mine that brought us here this time. A merchant as well, though he was sailing towards the other side of the Rift. I didn’t want to risk it, not with what we were bringing from the Archipelago, so I landed here alongside a few others he was bringing along. Folks from the Order – quite… enthusiastic people, though a bit too much.”

Malina’s excitement died. Like a flame without fuel, it disappeared at the mention of the Order – and instinctively, the witch turned towards the Dark Muse at her side. Lissandra’s tongue tasted the air.

“Really? They are everywhere these days aren’t they?”

“Don’t even tell me about it. Thankfully it was only a few of them – I can’t even imagine spending all that time aboard with more than half a dozen at a time. The amount of sermons alone would drive me mad. Wait... you aren’t believers, are you?”

Malina shook her head as Lissandra scoffed.

“Hmph. Never. Our faiths are... different.”

Revold nodded in apparent understanding.

“Me too. Gods know I respect them all but it’s the Gentleman that really speaks to me. And you don’t see his priests going around preaching to people. Thankfully, only the young ones were yapping about during the trip, trying to make Yarrien convert. I had some very pointed words with the oldest of them about it, not that I think it did much.”

The merchant admitted, embarrassed, but Lissandra nodded without judgement. Not even Malina had expected anything different from the Order folk, and her interactions with them had been more than minimal, but their fame as preachy existed for a reason.

“They are difficult to deal with, I’m aware. You are privileged to not have poked at their anger, however. They don’t take well to being denied.”

Lissandra spoke, eyes on the merchant and looking so far away at the same time.

“Personal experience?”

Revold asked, curiously. Malina held her breath for the reaction of the Siren, but Lissandra only gave him a bitter smile.

“Something like that.”

Silence descended for a moment, the Lamia suddenly lost in memories that went too deep, her playful exterior melting like snow as the edges of a Dark Muse turned the air suffocating. Malina sweated uncomfortably as the conversation struggled to continue after that.

Salvation came when Yarrien returned with signed papers in hand, his head appearing from the other side of the canvas after he knocked on the wood in warning. The young man’s dead eyes blinked at the scene of all three tripulants looking at each other in silence before speaking.

“I found one of the Rangers, boss. All clear. He also told me of a place on the other side that wouldn’t fuss too much about the big boys. Are we... ready?”

Revold cleared his throat and nodded, Malina finally managing to breathe properly as the tension surrounding Lissandra dissolved.

“Yes. Let us get these lovely ladies to the other side. Ahem, how about a story of one of my trips, Miss Lissandra? I’d be honored to tell you more.”

The Siren gave a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and nodded.

“I’d love to hear it, Revold. And to browse some of your wares as well if we have the time. Some of our sisters would enjoy a present from the Archipelago if you have it.”

The merchant took the line thrown by Lissandra with a grin, regaining his confidence as Yarrien sat on the coach and began to stir the Grave Crawlers. Malina saw Revold’s eyes glimmer wetly.

“It’d be an honor to let you take something home, Miss. For a fair price.”

Revold winked, making Lissandra scoff.

“As you wish.”

***

“...And these are armbands. Solid gold, see? It’s high fashion in the Empire nowadays – the men wear them around their biceps, so tightly I saw some use oil to get them off, but the women usually wear them on their wrists. They hang quite loosely, but do you see this?”

The man presented the jewelry to Malina, the girl’s eyes widening as she noticed the markings on the woven circles of gold. Lissandra smiled softly at her side, having long shifted from the spotlight of the conversation after Mal squealed at the first headband Revold had presented.

The Siren was currently nursing a cup of watered plum wine as the ride across the Treyni River continued on.

“Engravings? The amount of work...”

“Indeed, quite the prized craftsmanship is behind these accessories. Do you know the language of the Archipelago?”

He was talking about what was written on the outside of the golden bands. A few phrases, engraved in one continuous line across the rings in a language that Malina knew only the basics of.

The girl could barely read a few of the words in Intraen, the flowy script making the letters merge into each other and lose all meaning as she struggled to grasp where the words began and ended. Malina shook her head at the merchant.

“I only know the basics. But -- Lissandra, you can read it, can’t you?”

“Hm? I can, indeed. Do you want me to translate it for you?”

Malina nodded, taking the jewelry from Revold and letting the Siren examine it. The merchant’s face twitched for a second before resigning himself to these difficult customers he had found.

“It seems to be a short story – a battle of sorts. As the leaves fell from the river trees, in an arena of dirt and honor, Jawin defeated a dozen thieves in favor of an innocent daughter. Here is the gratitude of a father of many skills, but little strength. Hm?”

The Siren narrowed her eyes at the end of the golden rings, a finger tracing the words engraved there. Malina extended her neck to try and see what Lissandra had found, but the Siren was looking at an empty patch on the jewelry.

She gave it back to Revold with a smile.

“Where did you say you found this piece?”

“Oh? Another merchant sold it to me. He was going through a rough patch. Wanted to get some quick coin, apparently – so I bought it for a steal. Why? I can speak Intraen, so I know there’s nothing problematic written on it.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Lissandra shook her head.

“Indeed, there isn’t. But that piece... It’s enchanted.”

Revold’s eyes opened wide in shock. At the front of the carriage, Malina heard Yarrien spit out the water he had been drinking, her own jaw slackening at the revelation.

Enchantments weren’t rare, per se – in fact, it would be no surprise if Revold had a few enchanted products for sale -- but to find one in the wild like this, hidden under the cover of mundanity? That was the stuff of stories.

The merchant had to force his jaw closed and gulp to find some control. Tentatively, he asked, his voice cracking a bit.

“En-enchanted? Are you sure? No, I mean, not doubting an esteemed patron like you but... Are you sure, sure?”

“I am. I know not what the enchantment does – but any appraiser worth their mettle would be able to discern with more accuracy. That patch you see there? The empty one? A simple camouflage spell. Here, let me show you. [Fade Illusion].”

The spellspeech was invoked with almost no effort, Lissandra finishing the set of necessary gestures before the words were said and leaving Revold with a gaping mouth at the casual spellcasting, the man’s eyes shining with further greed. Trembling in excitement, Malina watched with fascination as the golden patch flaked away like sand – revealing a series of tiny, tiny runes etched deep.

The young witch couldn’t recognize what they meant, but Malina felt her own core bristle at the power unveiled – a sensation that only grew more pronounced when the inside of the arm band began to flake as well.

Revold’s hands shook as Lissandra offered him the jewelry once again, this time taking it with a lot more trepidation. Malina had to tighten her fists to not palm the golden rings herself, taking a quick glimpse at the series of arrays etched on the inside of it.

“That’s... a lot of runes.”

“Yes – I believe the enchanter was not as proficient at it as they were at goldsmithing, but they were good enough. I’d advise you to investigate it further before passing it forward, Revold. Who knows, maybe you’ve just found a relic.”

Lissandra’s tongue flickered in the air, her grin a little too wide. Malina felt the joy at the revelation fade like the illusion that once hid the arm band’s power, a sudden shiver on her spine.

The witch checked on the merchant, but the man was focused on the enchanted jewelry now – dead eyes boring into the etched arrays as if he could unveil its secrets with sheer force of will. Her blood ran even colder when the Siren leaned forward, whispering in his ear.

“I do believe that makes us more than great customers, doesn’t it Revold?”

He nodded absently, still looking at the once-mundane item. Lissandra lips stretched wide.

“Then a reward is more than fitting. An enchanted item for another. How about it?”

That made Revold react. The merchant jerked away from the grinning Siren as if burned, sweat on his brow as he stared at the burning orange of Lissandra’s eyes. He cleared his throat.

“That... seems a bit much, miss. I’m thankful for the help but – how about this, I’ll give you a discount on my wares for tonight. As thanks.”

Lissandra laughed, giving a quick clap as if she had sealed a deal. Malina kept herself very still, not even Nin daring to whisper as the Siren did... something.

She just couldn’t tell what it was.

“Marvelous, then. 70%?”

Revold sputtered in shock at the high number, but quickly found his ground once more.

“40%”

“Deal.”

“50—wait, what?”

The Siren kept her smile intact, tilting her head.

“I said deal. 40% is enough – I wouldn’t dare to rip you off like that, we are friends after all! But, please, show me what great wares you have. I’m quite interested in the more magical of items. You too, right Malina?”

The girl could only nod.

***

By the time they reached the other side of the Viridian Bridge, having passed underneath all of the overgrown trees that formed the path’s cover and even managing to grab one of two of the large fruits they produced, Malina was fairly certain Revold wasn’t as eager about them as he was at the beginning.

She risked a glance at the merchant’s face, and the twitch on his right eyebrow had intensified manyfold after Lissandra gave back the sixth enchanted item the merchant had presented. And they weren’t even bad ones.

In fact, Malina had been quite happy with her own purchase – one that she did with the help of Nintrakilous and mostly because Lissandra had advised her to buy it – but the small talisman from the Archipelago was now hidden underneath her shirt and ready to be used with only a small injection of her own mana.

It was a small plaque of metal, gray, shaped like a rectangle and thin enough Malina had actually asked Revold if it was some manner of colored paper, especially due to how flimsy if was, but the merchant assured her it was a special type of alloy – one that, according to him, was smithed by those of her own kind.

A Drow-made talisman. The red tassels at the bottom were an artistic addition, but Lissandra ensured her it wouldn’t affect the talisman’s power. Nevertheless, Malina did feel good about her purchase and the fact she had another way to do magic – limited as it was.

The witch stopped fidgeting with the talisman when she heard the sound of a box falling, one of Revold’s chests having fallen onto the wagon’s floor when he tried to return another discarded item into its rightful place.

The merchant just hadn’t expected for something to roll out of the box, and land right on Lissandra’s feet. Revold tried to grab it quickly, before she could, but the Lamia was as dexterous as a snake.

Lissandra held the orb between two fingers, watching the colors within circulate like smoke – blue and black, speckled with a muted gray. The thin chain coiled around it only made it eerier.

Malina frowned at the object, especially after noticing how nervous Revold was. The man’s hands shook as he tried to figure out the words to ask it back without offending the Siren too much.

“What is it?”

The Siren turned her eyes from the orb, stared at Revold for a second with a pitiless glare, and answered.

“A Sorcerous Core. Young and... fresh. Sealed and contained. You said you worshiped the Gentleman – is this their doing?”

Malina’s eyes widened at the implication, and the man seemed to grow paler than ever after realizing Lissandra actually knew what it was. Revold stuttered an answer, fists closing tight around his hat.

“Y-yes, miss. If I could have it back? That is – I mean, that can’t be for sale.”

Lissandra clicked her tongue in annoyance, and Malina felt her shadow thicken in alarm.

“Relax, Revold. I wouldn’t report you for this – though you have grown much more interesting as of now. Is it for you?”

The merchant shook his head, a bit more relaxed, but still on edge. He let his crinkled hat go and took a deep breath before sitting once more. He seemed to carry the weight of the world for a second, and Malina could empathize with the feeling. The Coven was not an easy acquaintance.

“No. I don’t need it – not at my age and I surely don’t enjoy courting death like that.”

The witch listened, then nodded as the answer dawned upon her.

“Yarrien. He wants to be a Sorcerer?”

“Not much of a want involved, but more of a need.”

The merchant admitted with a sigh, rubbing his temples. They were whispering now, talking behind the younger man’s back as he continued to guide the vehicle and the Grave Crawlers, and Malina tried to swallow the ash on her tongue at the realization. Lissandra was the one to ask.

“He is sick?”

“An... affliction of our kind, yes.”

Malina blinked at that, then bit her lower lip – and the words came out before she realized.

“We could help. I mean, um, if you want to. We are... good at that sort of thing.”

She had seen the Coven heal more than one client through hushed incantations and secretive rituals. They had done miracles for people willing to listen, and though she wasn’t as much of a member as Lissandra, it felt right to offer the help.

It brought her some control at least. Malina swallowed thickly, gouging the Siren’s reaction with the corner of her eyes, but Lissandra was only shaking her head.

“That’s not it, is it? No one would be willing to risk Sorcery when magic could solve it. Especially someone with money like you, Revold.”

The Siren seemed to pause for a moment, gouging the man’s reaction. Her tongue slithered out, then stopped as her slitted pupils flared slightly, and she smelled the still-burning Corpse Roses. Lissandra returned the Sorcerous Core to its owner as she spoke.

“The boy... he has the Rot, doesn’t he?”

Revold nodded gravely, thankfulness in his eyes, and swallowed.

“Yes.”

Malina listened to the silence shared after the revelation, and focused on the demon living in her shadow.

“The Rot?”

Nintrakilous stirred, like a cat stretching itself, and answered languidly – uninterested now that Lissandra seemed calm enough.

“A disease of the Palefolk. Deadly, incurable and one of the reasons why they are so... unwelcome in most places.”

“I didn’t know they could get something like that. I’ve... never read about it.”

The demon chuckled.

“There isn’t much to read about them at all, is there? Plus, it’s not like other people tend to befriend them for long enough to learn of it – or don’t write the most biased things possible about them. They were slaves for a long time, remember?”

Malina hadn’t. She was unwilling to admit it, but the witch hadn’t remembered the Palefolk’s struggle for freedom during her meeting with Revold and Yarrien. Now, though, she felt a bit ashamed.

She cleared her throat, mentally, and Nintrakilous chuckled at her efforts.

“So... it’s a common thing?”

“I’m not certain. Seems a bit unusual for someone so young to have it already though. Oh, look, she’s striking again. Hells, I’ve got to admit I missed seeing her in action like this. Even scary as it is”

Malina frowned in confusion for a split second before listening to Lissandra’s melodious voice.

“An awful disease, I’m aware. Flesh-eating, draining, painful. Resorting to Sorcery is bold but... I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same in your place, Revold.”

“Ah – thank you, Miss Lissandra. But you don’t need to worry yourself too much. I’ve spent quite a lot of coin with some proper medicine for him. Yarrien feels no pain, I’m sure.”

The Siren shook her head in denial.

“Nonsense. You’ve been more than hospitable and welcoming to us – it wouldn’t do to leave you or your apprentice, your family, hanging, especially as beginners in a path we have long trod upon.”

The merchant furrowed his brows in confusion. Then disbelief.

“...Sorry? I don’t understand.”

Lissandra seemed to find his confusion amusing.

“Ha. Just think about it. For someone to recognize such a rare object so promptly, there must be a reason. Either they trade it or...”

“They are a Sorcerer themselves.”

Revold stated, eyes wide, and Lissandra spoke calmly as he edged away, suddenly looking at the exits. Malina curled inwards at his reaction.

“There’s no need to fret, dear merchant. Kindness must be repaid with kindness, and you have done nothing to offend us. So, rejoice at what I have to tell you – for a favor or two, I’d be more than willing to assist Yarrien in his Awakening. You’ll need more than a Core if you don’t want madness to encroach, after all.”

“I... do?”

The Siren winked at the nervous man, and waved a hand.

“Secrets, secrets. But tell me: are you willing?”

Revold bit his lower lip, and Malina had half the mind to warn him no deal made with the Coven came cheap, but the man nodded before she gathered the courage to voice her caution. In fact, the moment she saw how his eyes had firmed up, resolute and hopeful, the witch knew he was lost.

“Anything. I’d repay you with whatever I can give if you promise to help him get better.”

Now she grinned, a stretch of lips that revealed gleaming white canines, bigger than you expected. Her orange eyes burned for a moment, Sorcery in them as the pupils sharpened into blades. The Siren of Skamendi extended a delicate hand in what felt like a mockery of Revold’s earlier gestures to Malina -- and sang.

“Then, is it a deal?”

The witch watched as a man carved another chapter of his story, now embroiled with the most dangerous of people, and heard Lissandra’s song reach a new crescendo.

Then, Malina realized, the music had been going on for a long while.

***

“You did something.”

Malina’s accusation sounded weak to her own ears, but the witch had to say something. Anything. If not to denounce it, then at least to learn of what had been done.

They were safely on the other side of Pleariss now, having gotten off the wagon as soon as they were once more cleared by the pair of very tired, very fed-up Wild Rangers that checked on Revold’s papers. The only mercy was that their laziness was quickly dispelled by the sight of the huge Grave Crawlers slithering across the ground and drooling from the dozen tentacles that sprouted from their mouths, the smoke of Corpse Roses enveloping both creatures like they were heralds from the Rift itself.

The rest of the trip had been largely silent after the deal was made, Lissandra and Revold only speaking to schedule when her help would be given to the duo. Malina had kept her eyes shut and her knees close to her chest for the rest of the journey, still listening to the echoes of that song that surrounded the Siren.

It was no true tune, but Nintrakilous kept whistling whatever for the rest of the journey. The demon must have been out for her sanity now, because the number of times she mentally told him to stop didn’t prove itself enough. Malina actually had to order him into silence – and that didn’t help with her mood.

So now here she was, exploding at the seams like an overstuffed doll, certain that one of her mentors had done... something once again. Angry, curious, trying to comprehend a junction of feelings that burned her insides.

The Siren blinked innocently at her pointed finger.

“You’ll have to be more specific, Mal. I’ve done a great many deal of things.”

“To Revold! You… charmed him or something. You are going to–”

Lissandra moved with the speed of a dancer, turning so quickly Malina almost swallowed her tongue as the Siren’s face came unnervingly close to her own. In a flash, the witch saw the sharp pupils of the Lamia focus on her, unblinking – and began to sweat.

“Lower your tone, young lady. And be very careful of what you will say next.”

The words creaked out of the girl’s mouth painfully. Not with Sorcery, but with the sad truth Malina had reached.

“You… charmed him.”

Lissandra narrowed her eyes, scoffed – and turned to Nintrakilous. The demon did not scurry away at the Siren’s glare, but Malina felt him shift and tense when he realized it was, indeed, at him that the Dark Muse was glaring.

“Nintrakilous of The Eighth. Give us a moment while you ensure nothing untowards is around. Five minutes.”

Malina’s Guardian materialized beside her, already kneeling, and the girl shot him a betrayed look. He remained unfazed.

“As you wish.”

The young witch felt him dislodge from her shadow with a soundless pop, their link severed for a moment. Five minutes, Lissandra had said – but Malina felt unprotected and, when she looked at the Siren’s face once more, afraid.

Muse and mortal faced each other in a dimly lit street of Pleariss, one’s heart beating so loudly she felt it would come out of her mouth with every passing second. The other kept herself tense, scrutinizing what was wrong.

A forked tongue tasted the air with a low hiss, and Lissandra turned around and walked a few meters, leaving Malina standing, and sat on a stone bench. The girl had tensed at the sound of the first step – the clack of the Siren’s heels making her shiver and close her eyes – and only opened them when she realized they were going away.

Malina raised her head only to find the woman inviting her to sit, orange eyes burning in the dark like lamps. Silently, the girl gathered her courage and went – sitting beside Lissandra. The Dark Muse spoke heavily.

“I don’t comprehend your defiance, Malina. Your reluctance to accept what we are and what you will become. Do you not wish to follow our path?”

Malina jerked in surprise.

“No! Never. I want to be like you. I… I want to help.”

“Then why the reluctance? You have criticized our powers, my powers, ever since we left. You don’t believe they are good or can be used to do good. When you don’t feel afraid of it – you feel ashamed. So, why? Why do you act as if we have ever wounded you?”

Why indeed. The girl bit her lower lip, unwilling to see the hurt on the Siren’s face. The underlying confusion as if she had done something wrong. Instead, Malina looked at the street in front of them, paving stones whispering her nothing and holding no painful affection for her.

“And as a parting gift, as The First returned to his forever abode, he allowed the world to choose their future once more. I… found that written in a book. It was marked with someone else’s name, in our library. Everything before that was damaged, but that phrase… it was important, somehow.”

Lissandra frowned minutely, but listened. Malina inhaled deeply before continuing, raising her hand to bite her nails before catching herself. Instead, she dusted her pants and continued.

“It was right beside our book. Chronicles of Wonder and Dread. I had never read it before, you know? It was always so heavy-looking, so precious – for the longest time I thought it was enchanted. I mean, it had to be, right? But at that moment… I don’t know. I just wanted to see what was in it. So I read it too. Our history.”

Now she turned to her listener, and a young twilight met a smothered orange. Like dwindling embers. Lissandra was serious as she looked at Malina.

“When did that happen?”

The girl shrugged.

“A year ago? Ten months? It was right before Jungle’s Breath, so… yeah, ten months.”

“I see.”

Just that. The Siren placed her hands on her lap, poised, and waited for Malina to continue. The girl returned her sight to the street.

“There was so much there, Lissandra. So much. I read what a Siren could really do. How she could turn on armies against each other, make mothers despise their newborn sons as punishment. I read all of our sins, from Hags to Demonesses. How we are unworthy of their love. All of our mistakes. How could we be so… bad?”

Malina’s shoulders slumped. With pain? Disappointment? The girl wasn’t certain but… the fascination of years catching snippets of their true purpose had turned into sourness so bitter and quickly she had felt dazed for days.

Then Malina… just couldn’t look at the Coven the same.

She risked a look at Lissandra – and the woman’s eyes were sharp in a way she had never seen before. Analyzing. Malina felt the disappointment in them like a waterfall, but her heart swelled with disappointment of her own – and hers had grown for months.

“Are we really that cruel? Can’t we – be kinder? Must everything we do end in disaster. When you did that in the bakery – that’s what I felt. And I was scared because… have you ever done it to me?”

She couldn’t remember. Malina touched her chest, the ache in it rotting her insides like a curse from The Second. The doubt creeped in once more, making her heart shrivel. Was she another tool of the Coven? Had she chosen anything – or had they just made her think that?

The girl curled her torso, eyes widening and brimming with unshed tears. Malina felt like crying, like choking and sobbing. She didn’t want to believe – didn’t want to doubt her very sisters, the same women that had housed her and cared for her. But it ached so much…

Lissandra’s touch felt like fire on her back. It made her jump in surprise, regret it, and immediately edge in closer to the older woman. It made her feel like a young girl again, sleeping with her head on the woman’s serpentine bottom as if it were a pillow. Malina couldn’t discern where the kind sister began and the cruel Muse ended.

The caress turned into a more pressing massage, making her relax at the subtle touch. The young witch groaned in pleasure, discomfort – then shouted in pain as Lissandra dug a finger into her skin, as deep as she could push. Her long nails had dug into her back.

Malina jumped to her feet, betrayed. Her mouth turned sour, morphed into a snarl – and the Siren kept her orange eyes fixed on the girl, the slitted iris slowly turning into a spiral.

The young witch looked to the sides. How long until Nin returned?

No, wrong thought. The fiend wanted her soul, so that it could play with it as it wished. Another betrayal. Look at how he followed their commands unquestioningly. Malina felt the blood drip from her back and knew she was unprotected. Alone.

Wrathful.

“Why–”

“Don’t, child. Please. Speak nothing. Think nothing. Do nothing.”

That only made her angrier. Malina felt the magic in her Core swell, buzzing and churning inside her as it flowed to her throat, to her fingertips, sipping into the stones beneath as liquid mana infused her sweat.

“Why did you do that?”

“Sorcery. You are under an Ability, Malina. We have been found.”

Lissandra’s droopy eyes shone. The corners of her lips turned downwards, shaking. Malina saw mockery in every expression and drew in more of her magic, more and more until she felt her Core void of anything but enough to keep her awake. Pained, scorned, the girl shouted.

“Lies! Lies, lies, lies! That’s all you do to me. All of you. I trusted you and you betrayed me like you did to all the others. The Twilight Castle burned because of you, Lissandra of Skamendi. You are responsible for the downfall of our Gods and now you make the same mistakes of our elders. Liar. Fiend. [For as long as I have drawn breath, you have lied to me. Wicked serpent that tells all tales, must you deceive me–”

“Pluck.”

A single word. A sharp movement from Lissandra’s hand, as if she were performing with a harp. An ageless quality to her voice that made the world twist as the Dark Muse conjured Sorcery left long forgotten.

And Malina felt her power disappear. All her magic, sapped by Lissandra’s Ability. Her Core now empty – alongside her heart and… back.

The girl fell to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. Lissandra slithered towards her, cushioning her fall by dismissing her legs and throwing her own body beneath Malina. The young witch heard the Muse huff as the air was squeezed out of her lungs – and a surge of vertigo made her fold and vomit over the paving stones.

Lissandra patted her on the back, making her relax immediately under the familiar touch. She vomited more, felt her eyes sting with tears – then another surge from within her stomach.

Something thick. It was choking her, refusing to leave, choking – and Malina sought her older sister for support, holding onto Lissandra arm. The Siren looked alarmed now, worried, and did the only thing she could think of.

The slap rang across the empty street. The force was such that Malina cried out, tears overwhelming – and puked one last thing.

A glob of paint splashed over the stones. A rainbow-hued mixture. A small amount, yes – but so surprising Malina did a double-take on the unreality of it all.

Her shadow thickened as the five minutes ended and Nintrakilous returned, taking her by surprise – but her Guardian brought another source of comfort with his stalwart presence. Fierce and brave, but grumpy.

Lissandra raised from the ground, holding Malina’s hand – and checked the girl’s forehead as if she had a fever. Quietly, she commanded. Her older sister, the kind singer. Malina’s eyes brimmed with tears at the memory of what she had said to her. There wouldn’t be enough apologies to use.

“We must leave. Now. Nintrakilous – I task you with finding Malina’s undead for now. Bring it to us. The Coven must reconvene about this threat.”

“Sister… I…”

“Shh. No more, Mal. I’m sorry – We should have noticed it sooner. For now, just rest, alright? We will fix this. You are safe.”

Lissandra kissed her on the forehead, nodded to the demon – and prayed.

To the sky, a Dark Muse chanted – a quick chant to a Pantheon long forgotten, feeling her tongue burn and bleed. But it was worth it, so Lissandra had a smile as she called for intervention.

“Fifth, guide us to where we can rest and keep us safe through the long night. [Dreamwalk]."