I slipped in and out of consciousness over the course of two days, falling in and out of my memories into waking daylight and back again.

When I was awake, periodically I would find Sheena sitting next to me, her hand pressed against my arm. Her hand was unusually warm, with a soft blue light emanating from it. There was a steady rhythm of pulses that seemed to push outward from where she was touching, bringing that warmth to every corner of my body. Her eyes were closed in concentration and her mouth formed silent whispers as she did so.

It was on my third time coming back to this that I realized what she was doing. She was trying to heal me. Each time I passed out and came back, my body felt lighter and lighter. After the fifth time, Sheena leaned back and wiped sweat from her brow. She looked utterly exhausted, like she needed sleep, a hot meal and a bath.

“She’s stable, for now. I’ll finish closing her less severe wounds tomorrow. Make sure you change the bandages and make sure to clean th-”

I heard Alverd’s voice, firm but reassuring. “I understand. Please get some sleep. You’ve been at it for hours.” Struggling to stay awake, my eyes betrayed me and slid shut as the sound of metal told me that Alverd was now next to me. I felt his hand grip mine and interlock our fingers. “I’ll make sure her wounds are attended to.”

His other hand stroked my hair, running through it in a smooth, repetitive motion, soothing and slow. “Don’t worry, Alicia. I’m here. I won’t let you fall into the river.” My heart skipped a beat. Mother Evros, I hope I’m not blushing. Now would be a terrible time for that. Between his promise, the hand-holding, and the brushing of my hair, it wasn’t long before I fell asleep again.

The memory that came with sleep was one I couldn’t forget, as I’d spent years of training ensuring I would not ever forget it. As I beheld the black stone walls of the Castle of Brimstone, the rows of armored soldiers flanking a crimson carpet laid out before me, feeling the weight of a mantle woven of thin dragon scales, I knew what day it was.

Graduation Day. The proudest day of my young life, a mere two years ago. A small ceremony with only my father, my private guard, and the man who had mentored me in the ways of the berserker. My instructor, Rutger, came down the carpet, holding in his hands the maul I had requested to be commissioned as a gift for my completion of the training. I remember how small I had felt as Rutger stood before me, a behemoth of a man nearly seven feet tall and covered in more scars than skin.

Despite everything I knew about his reputation, that he had served an extraordinary thirty odd years as a warrior on the front against Algrustos, his face was softer than I expected. Even hidden behind a salt and pepper beard his eyes were lively, clear blue and full of spark. He looked at me with a mixture of pride and anxiousness, and I puffed out my chest and tried to look strong when he regarded me. His expression did not change; he handed the maul to me, offering it in his twin-fisted grasp, and spoke the words of final initiation.

“In all our time, we have walked this harsh land with our heads held high not because we are wary of what rules the sky above. We look above to see what remains to conquer. We look forward to see what enemies stand in our path. When one falls, others press on. When one drops his sword, his follower takes it upon herself to take up his blade and cause. We have no time for pity, for tears, or weakness. We look only forward.”

I took the maul from him, holding it to my chest. “I walk forward with your blade. Walk with me until it is your time to fall, honored teacher. When the time comes, I will ensure one walks in my stead.” The soldiers knelt in unison, fists slammed against breastplates. Rutger knelt too, and even then I could barely see past him to where my father sat on his throne. I tried to lean subtly to the side to see him, but I must have done it too fast as he looked straight at me with his steady gaze.

Then he pounded his fist against his chest, albeit slowly, causing him to cough. “My daughter joins with the mightiest of our legions today. As a king, I know joy that such an honor was bestowed on one so worthy.” Then his voice changed, and it seemed like it was directed solely at me. “As a father, I am filled with pride that she has earned such a distinction with the sweat of her brow and the strength of her arm.”

I could not contain the swelling in my heart, and I remember smiling. Rutger cleared his throat audibly, glaring at me. Not accusingly, but merely to remind me that now was not the time for such sentiment. I had to scowl, but I couldn’t forget the feeling it gave me to know how proud my father was of me.

It was the best thing a daughter could ask for, to know she had made her father proud.

In the aftermath, Rutger made the unusual request to retire from his position as a berserker trainer to fulfill one last service to the crown; to become one of my bodyguards. My father had granted the request with his blessing. I was so excited at the time to know that he was going to be right there with me from that moment on.

Even as I began lessons on what I needed to know in order to fulfill my duties as queen, Rutger was always present, hovering nearby to ensure my safety. Of course, sparring with him was the best way to clear my head after an exhausting session of reading how to best kill mages in various scenarios. Still, he insisted I return to my studies eventually, much to my chagrin.

I never could say no to Rutger, even when he dumped piles of scrolls on your desk and demanded they be read. He’d point to his scars and say that each one was an example of what he’d do differently if he were my age again and able to learn from his mistakes. I used to laugh at him for that.

“So you had to spend hours reading too? Huh.”

I recoiled sharply, a strange feeling given I was in a dream. As I did, there was a sensation of crispness, as if the air itself had dropped dozens of degrees in temperature only to rebound back in the same second, and when it was over the dream felt more… real. Almost as if it were reality. Sitting on my desk, her legs kicking back and forth, was Sheena. I scooted back away from the desk and she hopped down from it, scattered my reading materials everywhere.

“Wait, what’s happening?” The dream continued to solidify around me with blurred edges turning sharp and marred vision becoming clear. She waved her staff over me and immediately my mind snapped forward and back as if someone had opened my skull and slapped my brain. When I regained my footing I snarled at her. “What is going on? What in Mother Evros’ name did you do?”

Sheena shrugged, sticking her tongue out of her mouth peevishly. “Have you ever heard of narcomancy? It’s not exactly a very common realm of magic study but it does have its uses. Not to mention it's fun to take out for a spin every now and then. Narcomancy allows one to see and sometimes manipulate dreams, Alicia.”

She seated herself in the chair I’d been in only a moment earlier and crossed her legs. “You’re tossing and turning in your sleep right now. I offered to peek into your mind to make sure you weren’t having a nightmare. At Master Alverd’s request, of course.” She grinned, looking quite pleased with herself, almost like a cat offering its owner a dead rat like a trophy.

So, it’s “Master” Alverd now. Didn’t take long to attach some overinflated honorific onto him. “Well as you can see, I’m fine.” You don’t have to get so bitchy with her, I reminded myself. You know she means well. But in a way you know that she’s getting back at you for monopolizing all of Alverd’s concern right now. “You can let Alverd and Kuro know I’m alright.”

Sheena looked past me at the room, which was now crystallizing fully into my personal bedchamber. “Who is he?” She pointed at Rutger, who was about to walk past her to place yet another bundle of study materials on my desk.

“That’s Rutger. He’s… my teacher? Bodyguard. A mix of things. Right now he’s trying to be my taskmaster.” I sighed, and it brought back a feeling of nostalgia. In spite of who he was, Rutger was very patient with me. Can’t imagine why, though.

“He reminds me of my uncle. The way he fusses over you, at least.” She chuckled as the dream version of Rutger placed the scrolls on the desk, then flickered. “It would seem we both had very stern teachers growing up.” She idly waved her hand, and the room’s walls melted away like candle wax, only to reshape themselves into another place entirely. An open air training circle within the Castle’s inner sanctum appeared, various other students watching

I could almost fear the cold dusk air and the slight breeze that had been present that night on my skin. Standing across from me was a tall, muscular bear beastman. Although humanoid in the shape of his face and body, the hair on his limbs and rounded ears gave away his true race easily. His arms ended in huge gauntlets, designed to prevent his claws from inflicting unnecessary harm during the training exercise. Belbrin. His name was Belbrin, and he was the one who taught you what it meant to be afraid of the river.

Fists clenched, I rushed forward and began swinging my fists at him. I fought Belbrin barehanded, no pun intended. It was so unnerving to relive something I thought I’d never have to think about ever again, and to be a passenger in my own body as I did so. I tried to remember what the lesson had been. Rutger was never a proponent of using only brute force to overcome the enemy. If I recall correctly, the point of this exercise was to demonstrate that bigger didn’t always mean better.

Sure enough, after I had grappled with Belbrin for a minute or so with no apparent victor, I went for his legs. Pulling away from his mammoth arms, I dove at Belbrin’s left leg, throwing my whole weight into a final second shoulder thrust. The top heavy bear beastman’s foot was swept out from under him and he toppled forward with a grunt; I quickly scurried onto his back and pulled his other leg back behind him, pinning him. He gave out another cry and slapped the ground in surrender.

The other students pounded their chests or slapped the ground in solidarity, cheering and hooting like wild animals. Rutger gave me a cloth to wipe away sweat on my face. “Like any problem, you tackle it from the bottom and work your way up. You don’t get to challenge your strongest opponent until you work your way up to them. As it should be.”

He nodded to the students. They saluted with more chest pounding and yelled as one, “as Mother Evros decrees, as it should be!”

Then Belbrin’s gauntlet flew through the air and hit me in the head, not hard enough to leave a scar, but enough to draw blood. I reached up reflexively to touch the place where it had hit, just above my left eye. Belbrin stood, tearing away his other gauntlet and pointed at Rutger.

“I grow tired of being used to train your whelps!” He threw his other gauntlet aside, his long, thin black claws now on full display. “You deem me unworthy of anything else, Rutger! And now you have this runt of a princess come in to help you embarrass me? She’s been a berserker for a month and already you have her here, putting me in my place!” He roared, shaking the training ground with his fury.

Before I could do anything, Belbrin lunged forward with his claws extended, aimed for my throat. Rutger moved to meet him, barreling into him, and slamming into his upper body. Planting his feet, giving his own roar of challenge, he drove his fist into Belbrin’s stomach. The beastman responded by digging the claw of his right arm into Rutger’s abdomen.

Oh no. I remember now. I remember how this ended. Slowly but surely, Belbrin pushed Rutger back, alternating his swings to continue carving out chunks of flesh from his opponent. The sound of my instructor’s feet sliding against the ground grew louder as he ceded more and more to his attacker. SOMEBODY HELP HIM. I screamed it out loud at the same time my mind remembered the words.

The other students, caught unawares, rallied at my command. A dozen of them jumped onto Belbrin, restraining his arms, pulling at his face, striking at him with weapons. It took almost twelve more seconds for them to finally put the screaming beastman down, and by the time that had happened, two students had suffered deep wounds of their own, and Rutger had been pushed to a place only a foot in front of me.

The trainees yanked Belbrin’s lifeless body away from Rutger and set about confirming his death, stabbing the corpse with blades over and over again. I rushed in front of Rutger as he collapsed to his knees. His eyes were wide open and frenzied, unfocused and staring straight ahead. His fingers, curled into claws, were twitching wildly.

“Teacher! It’s me!” The dream-me grabbed hold of his face with both hands. The eyes swiveled towards me and I could see how bloodshot they were. “You did it. I’m alright. Come out of the river, teacher. I’m here to pull you out of the river.” I grabbed his hand, then winced as his fingernails dug into my skin. “Look at me, teacher! I’m here!”

Slowly, Rutger’s eyes focused. He blinked, and let out a long, pained sigh. “Oh. So I don’t have to die alone… after all.” When he slouched forward I tried to catch him, but I knew before I propped him back up that he was gone. I cried there, and I didn’t care how many people were watching. I held onto him until the guards came to take his body away for a warrior’s pyre.

Before my eyes, Rutger was carried away, and as the men carrying him faded into blackness I felt my body fall back under my own control. As I stared at my own hands, Sheena gave a derisive snort. “Can’t say I’m all too surprised. I guess there’s truth in what they say about Ishmarians.” I whirled around and growled at her. She threw up her hands in a mock gesture of fear. “Oh, sorry about that. I didn’t want to interrupt, but trust me, I’ve been here the whole time. It’s one thing to hear about the tales of your peoples’ barbarism, it’s another thing entirely to remember it from your perspective.”

“You watch your mouth, or you’ll be gumming your meals for the rest of your life.” I stomped over to her, which didn’t have the intimidating effect I was hoping for without ground to stomp on. “My father used to say that a harsh land births harsh people. We do what we have to in order to survive, and if you don’t want to try and understand why we are the way we are, that’s your failing, because it’s also your choice, Sheena.”

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The Witch-Queen wrinkled her nose, sneering at me. “Why do you think I did what I just did? I wanted to see that memory from your perspective. To remember how you felt, why you felt it. You felt pride at being recognized by your father, to fulfill his expectations. You felt sadness and guilt at your teacher’s sacrifice. It’s not you I condemn, Alicia. It’s the way your people see violence as an end-all solution to everything.”

“Narcomancy allows me to understand the feelings associated with the memories and dreams they accompany. I wanted to bridge a gap, and perhaps you might understand my situation a bit more once you see things from my side. Let me show you something from my own past, Alicia.”

Sheena waved her staff again, and the imagery of the Castle of Brimstone became shimmering columns of ivory. There was no moon in the sky, as I could see through the lone window on the far end of the room. The only light in the room came from several candelabra with candles half-eaten away, casting eerie twisting shadows on the walls. Nestled against the wall was a lavish bed, upon which a screaming young girl lay, her hand outstretched, a swirling ball of ice already beginning to take shape in her palm. Across from her, seemingly also frozen in time, were three cloaked figures batting aside her magic with shimmering blue shields not unlike the kind I’d seen Kuro use to block dragon fire.

“Truth be told, we’re not all that dissimilar.” There was a cold, almost detached disdain in Sheena’s tone, and it was a far cry from anything I’d heard her say up until now. “When I was a child and first heard about the rituals and crimes of Ishmar via our spies, I could scarcely believe what I was hearing. At first I didn’t think our two cultures could be any more different.”

She turned and faced me, her right hand raised. “I know better now.” With a wave of said hand, the vision began to move.

The first of the assassins swatted Sheena’s hand aside and grabbed her, throwing her out onto the floor. Another assassin pulled out a thin pommel and a magical dagger buzzed into being with a sound like igniting flame. As he reared his arm back to strike, however, a sword ran through his chest, and he was brusquely thrown against the wall. Standing in the candlelight was a younger Lord Albrecht, his face set in a dark grimace.

The second assassin tried to turn and face Albrecht but the Prime Minister swept his blade in an impossibly quick motion, decapitating him with one clean stroke. The head bounced across the ground, splattering blood across Sheena’s face. She screamed as the final assassin reached down to try and slit her throat with his own magic blade, but Albrecht thrust out his hand and a bolt of blue light shot out, hitting the man in the chest, and propelling him into the bed, shattering it and cracking the wall behind it.

Albrecht continued to pummel the assassin with more blasts, each impact accented by the shattering of ribs and other bones. After an excruciating six consecutive blasts, the assassin tumbled forward and hit the ground like limp wet clothes. Albrecht knelt before his niece and enfolded her in his arms. She screamed and cried, and he could only console her wordlessly.

Sheena’s face betrayed no emotion, but I imagined she had to have some lingering feelings about what she had shown me. “Those three were later discovered to have been career soldiers. Nearly thirty years of loyal military service between them, and they were ready to kill a child because they disagreed with her desire for peace.” There’s so much bitterness in her voice. Has she really been bottling that all up, all this time? “When I saw Alverd for the first time, I remembered a better time. Before all of this, before the world became much more dangerous for a girl too young to know why there were men coming to kill her in the dead of night.”

Sprawled across the room were various picture books, one of which was open. Depicted in the open pages was that of a knight in armor riding a majestic steed to the base of a tower, where a fair maiden waved to him from a window at the top. A childish fantasy, but then again she was a child. And she had to grow up too quickly, just like me. I shook my head.

“Sometimes children want to grow up way too fast, and sometimes they don’t have a choice. We never find out that being one is a luxury until it’s too late.”

I folded my arms. “But that’s no excuse to say what you want about my people. You just admitted you had spies in my country. You want to act like you’re better but then you resort to dirty tricks? Are you stupid? Where do you get off on judging me?”

Sheena scowled. “Well then. Let’s have a real heart to heart, then. Why don’t we finally meet for real, where all the false pretenses no longer have to be considered, shall we?” The scene of her childhood trauma vanished, and we were now sitting in a gazebo on the Ivory Palace’s grounds, a table for two set with tea and sweets laid out in front of me. “No more fake smiles or grandiose gestures. Just you and me, as people, not royals. Let’s talk.” She seated herself at one end.

Hesitantly I took the seat at the other side. “Alright. Honestly? I’m glad you’re not some airheaded moron. I could do without the sinister wheels-within-wheels kind of thinking you seem to indulge in, but if it’s kept you alive this long, more power to you I guess.” I placed a set of biscuits on a plate, but wondered if it would even taste like actual food. It is a dream. Anything is possible, right? I took a bite and marveled at how it did indeed taste like buttermilk. “Also the excessive fawning over Alverd is irritating. He’s a human being, not some fantastical ideal.”

She sipped her tea. “On the contrary. Master Alverd is a symbol, true enough. He represents everything he’s meant to: chivalry, honor, duty, and an appeal to the better nature of all. More simply, he is just… my type, I guess.” She blushed slightly. “When I was young I had an image in my head of what my knight would look like when he would come to take me away from my horrible life, and it just so happened that he looked just like it. Coincidence, yes, but a happy one.” Her expression turned bitter again. “Of course, I’m sure he would be far less accepting of me as I actually am, so I dredged up a long dead memory of who I used to be to present a far more sympathetic face to him.”

Outside the gazebo, scenes of our two lives swirled through the void, intertwined with no true distinction. I saw pieces of memories of my half-siblings mocking me as a child weaving in and out of memories of Sheena spending time with her uncle. Almost as if on cue, the memories of our first meetings with Alverd seemed to play out side by side, juxtaposing my antagonistic one with her more even-keeled approach.

“Alverd wouldn’t judge you for that.” I pointed at the memory of me shouting at him accusingly over the death of my dragon. “Have a little faith in him. He’s a lot smarter than he looks, and loyal to boot.”

Sheena’s brow wrinkled. “Yes, quite loyal. I am aware.” For only a brief moment, I caught sight of Sheena’s memory of him holding my hand as I lay on the ground in the void behind her. Ohhhhh, so she’s still jealous about that. I guess even now she’s still putting up a facade with me.

“He’d be a lot more open with you if you show him who you really are.” She blinked at me, her mouth slightly open. “He manages to accept me for what I am. And if you say that the old you, the current or the fake you is the real one, he’ll accept that too. The nice thing about him is that he’s not going to judge you for that. So far he’s demonstrated that he’d rather judge people by their actions, not anything else.”

There was a crack in the so-called mask, and then Sheena placed her tea cup back on the table. “Well then. If what you say is true, then he’ll figure out which is the real me soon enough.” She crossed her legs again and smiled at me wistfully. “In the meantime, perhaps it would be better if you and I started over. I would like it if we could be friends, Alicia. It’s been far too long since I’ve had any worth keeping.”

“I’d say sure, but be careful what you wish for. I’m still learning how this friendship thing works, and I’m not very good at it either.” We both awkwardly smiled at each other for a second. Behind Sheena, another image of her past appeared. I would’ve looked away if I hadn’t spotted something I recognized: the Ishmarian dagger that Lord Albrecht had hidden up his sleeve.

I nearly knocked the tea table over as I leapt to my feet. “That one! That right there. Is that a memory or a dream?” Sheena turned and looked behind her. “I’m not sure. I don’t recall a time when I experienced this event, and I don’t know if it holds enough symbolic importance to be a dream.” She shrugged. “I’m sorry, as the narcomancer holding this dreamscape together, sometimes it can be very difficult to look at what you see with unbiased eyes. Just like self-reflection tends to be harsher than outside criticism, I have trouble looking at my own dreams and memories via narcomancy with the same clarity. It’s just a limitation of the magic school.”

“Can you make it clearer?” I leaned up against the railing of the gazebo, trying to make sense of what I was seeing.

“Yes, let me see. But again, remember that what you and I see differs based upon the emotions I might have experienced at the time of the image’s creation.” Her brow furrowed as she concentrated. “I feel… agitation? There isn’t anything that resembles coherent thought. Just a jumble of raw emotion without any real higher reasoning behind any of it.”

The cry of a baby echoed across the empty space outside the gazebo as the whole of the void became a projector for the scene Sheena was concentrating on. As the images began to solidify, I could see a room take shape. It was the exact same room as the one she had been attacked in, leading me to believe it was her bedroom. So is this a memory of her as a baby? Can she even remember anything from that far back?

Through the eyes of the infant, I beheld two faces, huddled together and looking down. I recognized them as the Wizard-King and Witch-Queen from the portraits in the hall where I’d nearly been murdered. They were Sheena’s parents. Albrecht said they were assassinated not long after Sheena was born. So then that might mean…

As if to confirm my suspicion, the Queen cried out as she was dragged away from the sight of the infant, and a shrill scream was cut short. The Wizard-King picked up the child and stepped back, allowing Sheena and I to see the rest of the room. Standing on the other end of the bedroom were three figures. Two of them were clad in dragonscale leather and black cowls that hid their faces, but the one in the middle, a gleaming longsword in his hand, had his cowl pulled down.

It was Albrecht.

He threw the lifeless body of the Queen to the side, her blood staining the longsword and dripping onto the floor. Albrecht took a step toward the Wizard-King and extended his left hand. “Give me the child, Lascow. I won’t tell you again.”

Another voice from out of sight, the King’s, rebuffed him. “Gerhalt, you know I can’t do that. The future of all mages depends on this child.”

Lascow’s hand lashed out and an explosion launched a dozen slivers of shimmering ice at Albrecht and his cronies. Both of his men were too slow to react, and they were taken out by the attack, but Albrecht swept his cloak forward and knocked the icicles from the air. He tried one last desperate shot that hit Albrecht’s arm, knocking the sword from his grip.

There was a familiar sound like an uncoiling spring, and the dagger I knew so well by now appeared in Albrecht’s hand. Unlike the normal dragontooth metal daggers in the display case, this dagger was forged of the same metal as the Sword of Evros, the purest alloy from the tooth of an elder dragon. It was unmistakable.

As the dagger slid into Lascow’s chest, Albrecht’s face loomed into view. “Easy for you to place your burden upon another for your own glory. Heavy should be the head that wears the crown, Lascow. Allow me to remind you of that.”

He twisted the knife, and there was a hiss as Lascow breathed his last. Albrecht gently pried the baby from Lascow’s grip as he fell away, the dagger retracting back into his sleeve. “Where you fall, I shall pick up your blade and cause. And when the time comes, another shall walk in my place.” With his finger he poked at the infant. “Come little one. This is no place for a child.”

I reeled back, my head spinning. Sheena caught me, her face filled with concern and questions. “What did you see?”

I raised my eyebrow. “You didn’t catch any of that?” She shook her head. “No, all of it is a blur. Spoken word is gibberish. I can’t make heads or tails of the entire thing. It’s just flash and noise.”

It must have been because she was the baby. The only thing she can see or hear were faces and voices she didn’t know how to remember or understand, but as an outsider looking in, I can see the whole picture for what it is. “It’s the day your parents died. I think…”

Oh Mother Evros, should I tell her? And what even is his end goal, anyway? The knife in his sleeve not only confirms he’s an Ishmarian, but the quality of the blade says that he had to have acquired it from someone like my father.

I saw Sheena’s worried face and made my choice. She deserves to know. The only way she’s going to deal with this is if I tell her everything. I spilled the beans on the entire memory, every detail, recounting it for her without leaving anything out. Her eyes widened in shock as she came to grips with the reality that her uncle was responsible for the deaths of her parents and had hidden that from her for her entire life.

She fell back into one of the chairs, tears streaming down her face. “My uncle was the one who did all of this? I don’t understand.” I sat back down at the table, pulling the other chair over so I could sit beside her. “I don’t want to sound insensitive, which is weird coming from me, but maybe the best way to get answers is to confront Albrecht.”

Sniffling, Sheena wiped her eyes with her arm. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be like this. It’s just, I don’t know who to be right now.” In that moment I saw the same scared girl crying into Albrecht’s arms after the assassination attempt, the one who needed someone to comfort her and tell her everything was going to be alright.

That’s the real you. The one that found out that she’s gonna have to figure it out as she goes. I grabbed her by the shoulders. “Time for you to find out, Sheena. There’s no sense running from this. It might just be my berserker blood talking, but if Albrecht really did spend your whole life lying to you, he’s gonna have to explain himself after I’m done knocking out all of his teeth.” I cracked my knuckles. “One Ishmarian to another, in the way we deal with liars and kinslayers.”

Sheena blurted out a choked laugh. “You’re not really doing much to dissuade me from thinking that all Ishmarians do to solve their problems is just use violence, you know.” I snorted at her. “Well if you want, I can get a bunch of your fellow mages and have a stupid committee vote on whether he should get punched in the face. Maybe it’ll happen sometime in the next decade.”

Her next laugh was a lot more natural, and it managed to slip out more easily than her last. “If we leave it to the Magisters we could be talking more than a decade. We’ll be lucky if we’re not sporting gray hair by the time they reach a consensus on how face-punching is too barbaric.” We both shared a laugh at that, and for the first time I felt like she and I were on the same level. I pat her on the shoulder reassuringly. “You ready to go back?”

“Alright. Your wounds are mostly healed, but you should take a second to catch your breath when you wake up. You haven’t been moved in over a day, so your joints are likely to be a bit stiff.” As I hauled her up, she whispered to me. “Please don’t tell Alverd how foolish I looked?”

I drew my finger over my chest. “Cross my heart. I can’t speak for all Ishmarians, but this one honors her word.”

She nodded. “Brace yourself. Waking up from a narcomantic episode is jarring, to say the least.” With one last wave of her staff, everything around me imploded in a flash of searingly bright white light, then expanded back outward in an explosion.

I bolted upright, and regretted it when every muscle in my body screamed in protest. Alverd was knocked back, falling over like a tipped vase. He recovered quickly, to his credit.

“You two had me worried. You’ve been under for almost an hour. Kuro went off on his own to scout out the entrance. Is everything alright?” He tried to put his hand on my forehead, but I waved him away. “We’re good. Thank you for worrying.”

Beside me, Sheena lifted herself off the ground, groaning loudly. “Oh dear. This part never gets any easier.” She pressed her hand into the small of her back to smooth a crick in her back out. As she fussed over herself, I leaned toward Alverd. “I’ll tell you about the river later. And really, thanks for looking out for me.” I smiled at him, and he gave me one in return. Mother Evros, was he always this handsome?

The sound of rustling brush was followed by Kuro tumbling out of the foliage nearby. “We need to figure out what to do, and fast. We’ve got bad news, lots of it, coming our way.”

Alverd picked his friend off the ground and brushed him off. “What kind of bad news?”

Kuro pointed in the direction he’d come, towards the entrance of the Forest of Familiars. “A squad of mean looking combat mages just walked in, as well as some of those Magister chumps.” He wheezed, caught his breath, and continued. “And that son of a bitch Albrecht is leading them.”