Ral instinctively reached for stillness. The room was small and the Sekrelli was unarmed. If there was a fight, he and Rask would win.

“He came in this morning askin’ after a Freerunner. A damn Sekrelli parading around in his armor kickin’ up a fuss. We tied him up in case you wanted to question him.” Tlatt cast a dark look at their prisoner who simply gave him a bemused look back.

Despite being unarmed and tied up, the man in the spare room didn’t seem nervous at all - although Ral thought there would be little ability to see much of anything. The Sekrelli man was filthy, dark hair shaggy and growing to hinder his eyes and a beard grew wild and untamed. His armor of the colors Sekrelli was also dirty from travel but upon closer inspection they looked well kept under the grime.

“You can start by introducing yourself, boy,” Rask said. Ral glanced over at the Freerunner, surprised. When he looked back, he realized the man did look roughly his age except circles of exhaustion shadowed under his eyes, making him look older. Rask crouched in front of their prisoner at a safe distance and unsheathed a short dagger.

“My name is Verne,” the man replied. An unmistakable Sekrelli accent came with his words. “I am a student of the Academy.”

“The Academy?” Rask frowned. “What are you doing here?”

“I was told I would find you here. Professor Camaz requests your help.”

Ral struggled to not react to his words - he fought the urge to grab Verne by the collar and shake answers out of him. Again, he sought stillness and stood by the door with Tlatt.

“And why would your Professor want my help?” Ral understood Rask was speaking as if he didn’t know what Verne was talking about.

“His ward, Aris, is on the brink of death. He seeks your counsel to save her life.”

Rask quickly stood. It coincided with the timing of Ral stepping forward to cut off his desperate questions. “What sort of counsel does he need?” Rask continued, sounding infuriatingly calm.

“A special affliction affects Aris. He hopes your presence will be beneficial to her condition. There isn’t much time or options left and he is desperate,” Verne looked up, a flicker of grief passing by his dark eyes. “She is in immense pain. I hope we can hurry back as soon as you’ve dispelled your suspicions about me.”

“Untie him,” Ral said. “Let him take us to her.”

Rask shot him a glare over his shoulder. “You do understand this has ‘trap’ written all over it?”

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

“If not for Camaz, how would he know about Aris and you?”

“Ral, have you forgotten what happened already? These people know what to say.”

“If he was a Bringer, there would be more of them and be protected by some talisman,” Ral retorted. “Perhaps greet us with some Unseeing. You think they would confront us this way?”

“You have met Bringers as well?” Verne asked. His face fell into a scowl. “You will find I don’t have such unsavory things on my person. Your manus abilities will work on me.”

“No, none of this makes sense,” Rask said, turning to herd Ral out of the room. “We are far, far from the Academy. It’s a stretch to think that Camaz and Aris would be here. Perhaps if you think of a better lie, Sekrelli, we’ll listen.”

“Professor Camaz said that you would have doubts,” Verne shrugged. “And he told me to relay this to you. ‘The day you brought them to me, the moon wept.’”

Rask froze. Ral curled his hands into fists. He remembered that day clearly. When both he and his sister were freshly monikered as Ral and Aris. The journey was long and miserable, an unwanted epilogue to everyone they cared about dying. He remembered being constantly frightened and clutching to Aris as she kept them hidden - a trick she knew since she was little. He remembered constantly crying and being comforted by Rask and Aris.

Aris had traveled the whole time without complaining. He remembered being almost frightened at how stoic she was, as if she was turning into a statue and cutting off any feelings to not react to the horrible things happening to them. He remembered thinking he was doing the crying for her. They eventually arrived on the beautiful island by a tiny, rickety boat and made their way through the forest of long wispy branched trees that Ral later learned to be willows. There a man with long black robes gave them an almost indifferent welcome: Ral couldn’t remember what Professor Camaz looked like, but he had the distinct impression that Camaz was purposely aloof. Camaz said something to Aris and put a big hand on her head. Suddenly his sister started crying.

Aris rarely cried. The sound pierced him that day, as young as he was, and he understood that she had to stay on the island. It was the moment he knew that the island would be good for her. Still, he didn’t understand why he thought that.

Rask bent and used the short dagger to cut Verne’s bonds. The Sekrelli almost looked surprised, but he gratefully rubbed his wrists and straightened to stretch. His movements were precise and neat, yet he kept a relaxed stance.

“Do you even understand what those words mean?” Rask asked.

“No,” Verne admitted. “I thought it was some sort of code from the Academy’s spymaster.”

“Well, you’re not completely wrong.”

Rask turned to Tlatt to quickly finalize what they needed to get going. Ral stopped the Sekrelli, clutching his arm with a desperate grip. “What happened to Aris?” he asked. “Is she in danger?”

Verne stopped to study Ral for a moment. “What is it to you?”

“Ral is my apprentice,” Rask said easily, temporarily breaking from conversation with Tlatt. “He is a Freerunner in training and will be with us.”

“Still doesn’t answer why you’re concerned with Aris.”

Ral scowled. “Just answer the question.”

“She’s dying, apprentice freerunner,” Verne finally admitted. He gave Ral a haunted look, the casual facade slipping a little. “We don’t know how to save her.”