Stirring from her dreamless slumber, Carmine awoke in a groggy haze. Exhaustion still wracked her eyes as she forced them open, spying the noonday sun from her window. She stared at her mildewed ceiling, forgetful of how she even arrived. Groaning, she rose to sit when a painful twinge in her chest reminded her of last night’s battle. Wasn’t success supposed to feel good? Her body needed the rest, but Carmine knew her work hadn’t finished yet.

Cloth rustled over her restored, but still-tender wound. Touching her shirt and glancing at her sleeve, she realized something: these weren't the clothes she had on last night. Someone changed out her stained clothes for the clean shirt and long skirt she kept under her desk in reserve.

Who changed my clothes!? Her head ran through the possibilities as her face flushed. It…it didn't matter. At least that's what she tried to believe.

Dizziness threatened to spill her over the floor as she lurched out of bed. Grabbing her desk, Carmine told herself to take it slow. Her wound may be closed, but she couldn’t replenish the blood she lost so quickly. She’d be anemic for a short while, and fatigued with it. She wanted a beef stew, a warm hearth, and a book to read. Maybe…that wouldn’t be too tall an order soon enough.

Not in this place though.

Steadying herself along the wall, Carmine set out to find the others. She hovered by the door, recalling Emmet's final words from last night. That was real, right? She didn't dream that up in her condition?

Her face tinted red again. Maybe she could stay in bed another hour Or day. As if she could stand the boredom.

The door creaked open to the manor's east wing. Voices drifted in from the courtyard through the window broken in the fight last night. A Small regret winced through Carmine. This place was already falling apart, and she didn't know much about fixing it. The Levals knew its location too. At this point, she'd have to find a new place to conduct her research. No big issue there; graduation waited just around the corner. Right now, Kay would have been taking her exam. Xander's would follow the next day, and Adelaide's after that. Carmine had already passed thanks to the circumstances of Almyra's surgery. If they wanted to excuse her from the exams for her benefit, she wouldn't complain. She hated presenting to a crowd.

Pausing midstep, Carmine considered her villainous performance last night, and wondered if that was really true.

The courtyard doors squeaked open, announcing Carmine's presence to the others. Emmet rambled the story of how Carmine won the institute entrance exam to an entranced Regan, but both turned their attention at her approach. Morgan lingered near the courtyard’s edge, and his attention remained there.

“You're up!” Emmet said, rising from the rickety chair he'd dragged out. He and Regan both moved to meet her, offering to help her sit like she were their elderly grandmother.

“Enough, enough!” Carmine pulled her arms back. Their worry was as touching as it was embarrassing. “I walked this far on my own, I can make it.” She waved them off and sat down with welcome relief.

Before she even settled in, both bombarded her with questions. Was she alright? Was she hungry? Did she need anything?

“Both of you can take a deep breath, I'll live,” Carmine answered. She looked again at Regan, surprised still at the concern the brusque young woman displayed. “Emmet's been telling you stories?” She nodded. “So…I guess you know I'm not the grand sorceress I pretended to be.”

“I don't know about that boss,” Regan shook her head. “What you pulled off last night seemed pretty grand...especially if you're just a couple years older than Morgan and me.”

“There goes all my mystique,” Carmine sighed, relief flooding her more than frustration. One less lie she had to keep spinning. “Thanks, Emmet.”

“You're welcome,” He replied, catching the slight smile on her lips. He seemed pleased with himself, and Carmine couldn't help wanting to mess with him a little.

“Did you dress me?”

“Did I huh?” Emmet froze.

“These weren't the clothes I had on last. Sneak a peek, did you?”

“I…uh, No- not that you're not- shit…” He sputtered, face shifting between surprise, bashfulness, embarrassment, before settling on a red-faced combination of the three.

“I squared you up, boss.” Regan admitted, her hand raised. Unlike Emmet, she treated the ordeal with a matter-of-fact attitude. “I figured it'd be better than letting you wake up filthy. I bathed you too.”

Carmine flinched, “You what—!?”

“Oh, I thought you like teasing, boss?” Smiling like a coyote, Regan winked. “Can't take it as well?”

After a deep breath of her own, Carmine regarded the cackling thug with a thoughtful gaze. “You're not as wary as you were before.”

“And you're not the ancient crone I thought you were.” Shrugging off the formalities, Regan leaned against the central tree. “Don't go thinking too much has changed. That silver of yours has kept my brother and me fed better than we've had all year, and it's nice to have a roof over our head that we don't have to fight for. Could do without the smell though.”

“We're moving out soon anyway,” Carmine announced. Nursing her mild headache, she turned her focus to the future. “We can't really stay here anymore after last night.”

“A sound decision,” Emmet added, “Long term exposure to the mold here can't be good for your health—”

“Neither is Symphonia knowing where we are.”

“Ah…maybe.” Turning his eyes to the tower peeking over the city, Emmet sighed. “Knowing my mom, she'll stew for a while before she tries anything. If you have a plan, we should get it moving sooner than later.”

“That was the idea before your mom stabbed me. I might need a few days more because of her.”

“What is the plan boss?” Regan asked. “You only told me to keep smiles, here, from jumping in too soon.”

“Smiles?” Emmet raised a brow at his nickname.

“I want you and your brother to look around town and see if there's another place we can hide out,” Carmine explained. “It doesn't have to be as big. If we have to rent a place, so be it. Do it in your name, and I'm sure there's a well off sorceress willing to give me a stipend to fund it.”

“You're going to extort my parents?” Emmet frowned.

“Consider it more compensation for injuring me, and fucking over Almyra. Speaking of,” Carmine pointed at the distant tower. “We should get back before anyone misses us. When Aly wakes up, we should be there.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“What do we tell Kay and the others?” Emmet asked. His eyes rested on the new scar etched on Carmine's forehead. Her burns never reached that high on her face, so the new mark hung over her eye alone.

“My hair can cover it.” Carmine brushed some strands over her forehead.

“That's not my point. Even if they don't see that, they'll notice your condition; you're pale, and unsteady on your feet.” Crouching next to her chair, and pouting, Emmet's stern face drew more comedy than severity, but Carmine contained her smirk. He continued, “you've been keeping a lot to yourself. All this, what you told me, and what you haven't.” Breath caught in Carmine's throat, admissions stuck half-way between revelation and secrecy. “We've been with you now for years. Whatever you're doing, you don't have to do it alone.“ His hand rested on her shoulder. “None of us want to lose you, least of all me.”

Carmine put her hand over his. Maybe…he was right. Keeping a healthy distance between her projects and her circle could be possible. She didn't have to cut ties, nor did she want to. Before coming to Leval, she never imagined forming such tight bonds, and distracting them with avoidance was an insult to the people she came to love.

But there were things too dark to accept. Recalling headmaster Thomas’ face when he realized his wife's practices gave Carmine a shivering pause. She never wanted to inspire that dread. Ever. If she told Emmet everything, would he really stay? Could she hold his affection if she didn't?

“I…need to think about it,” Carmine delayed. “Later, I promise.”

“That's fine.” He gave her the most understanding smile, bless and damn him. “We've been through a lot in a short while. I'll be here when you're ready.”

“So, you two gonna kiss now?” Regan barked, arms crossed. “I can turn away if you want. Morgan found a cute cat; I can distract myself.”

And the moment was gone. Emmet withdrew his hand, blushing deep red. Narrowing eyes at Regan only made her smirk grow wider.

“You know what you're doing?” Carmine sighed, trying to get her on task.

“Yeah: looking for a new place,” Regan nodded. “A better place, with locked doors and less mold. Maybe new beds too—”

“Right, fine. Morgan,“ Carmine called out. “Did you hear all that?”

“Nope!” Morgan turned with a smile, holding a cat in his arms. He beamed as he scratched its black fur, while it barely emoted at all, content to let him continue as he liked. Its unblinking golden eyes stared at Carmine, betraying no feeling at all. It felt familiar. Narrowing her eyes, she noticed only one paw dangling from its front.

“No bloody way.” Carmine stood up. Suspicion set her on guard as she regarded the small feline. “Morgan, put her down.”

“Her? You know this kitty? She's so cute. And calm too— oh!” The cat leapt down from Morgan's arms, already growing in size before touching the soil. Its body shifted, and expanded, bones crunching as they reminded themselves that their shape was only temporary. Regan hid behind the tree, and Morgan fell back, transfixed on the sight. Both Carmine and Emmet had seen the transformation once before, yet that still couldn't prepare them for the visceral sounds. The change took less than half-a-minute, Carmine's stomach turning all the while, but at the end, Kathir stood before them once more. Unlike her first appearance, a layer of black fur remained on her body; the same hybrid-form she used to combat the brigands in the Riven sanctuary. Memories of how sharp those claws could cut surfaced, breaching from times better kept buried.

“At ease,” Kathir's raspy voice prowled from her throat. She coughed, as if those were the first words she'd spoken in since they parted years ago.

“What are you doing here?” Carmine asked, defensive. Kathir had never attacked her, but she still took Carmine into peril without intending her to survive. Calling someone like that an ally was presumptive, but being her enemy proved far more dangerous.

“I am here to retrieve you,” Kathir declared, straightening her posture, tail flicking behind her. “My master seeks an audience, and I will deliver you.”

“Is that a request,” Emmet asked. He stepped between Carmine and their visitor, “or a demand?”

What the hell was he thinking? He saw what she could do, and whatever spell he weaved behind his back wouldn't protect them if Kathir decided to attack.

“My master said to let you choose,” Kathir answered, “but also gave me a message to share.”

“Which is?” Carmine moved beside Emmet.

Instead of answering, Kathir clenched her clawed fist. Gouging her own hand, she flicked the now-errant crimson onto the central tree trunk. As Emmet and Regan both recoiled, the blood brightened and slithered across its surface.

Slowly, it formed into the outline of Vembris, devoid of any details save one: two swords crossed over a moon emblazoned shield. Carmine recognized the sigil of the exorcists, and she also recognized where on the map it sat.

Rieland.

Carmine swallowed hard. Her impulses almost caught up to her, and no doubt sometime soon the exorcists of the tower might call on her for questioning. If they detected necromancy near her old home, and word of it reached Tera or Jordan…well, they weren't stupid.

“I'll go,” Carmine said to Kathir. At her acceptance, Kathir opened her palm, and the bloody message returned to her veins.

“Exorcists, Carmine?” Emmet looked at her, concerned. His brow furrowed as he only understood half the message. “Is this related to last night?”

“I'd be surprised if it wasn't in some way. You should get back to the tower—”

“And leave you alone with the shape-shifting slayer and her unknown boss?” Emmet shook his head. “No. I think not.”

With fatigue reminding her of her precarious condition, Carmine fought her instinct to send him away, even if it was to safety. Her plan wouldn't have succeeded without him, and she'd probably be dead if he wasn't there. She could trust him. That…and she didn't want to push people away any longer.

“Looks like we're both going.” Carmine leaned on Emmet, and he supported her weight. She faced Kathir. “That won't be a problem.”

“Understood,” Kathir assented. “I will guide you to my master's location.” No sooner had she finished speaking did her form begin to shrink. Her body returned to the form of an alley cat, and it seemed slightly less violent than her first transformation. The three-legged cat looked at them expectantly, and ventured towards the road outside.

“Do what we talked about, Regan,” Carmine told her in passing. “I'll return this evening or the next.”

—

Traveling back through the Reefcliff streets felt different than night. Amazing what could a few hours could change. Chief among those changes was Emmet lending his arm to her as they walked. He said it was to help steady her gait, yet the closeness between them as they moved…Carmine felt her chest tingle with bashful excitement. While he tried to keep focused straight ahead, Emmet too couldn't hold back the goofy grin on his face.

Leading their way, Kathir leapt along fences and trotted down the path in her diminutive form. Her balance seemed keen, despite the lost limb. She had adapted, just like she predicted. If she weren't capable of shoving her arm through an armored man's chest, Carmine would almost think her cute.

Still, the echo's presence unsettled. Personally, Carmine liked Kathir; her determination and focus inspired as much as it terrified. She didn't seem the type to lie, but neither would she be forthcoming without reason. Wanting to call her a friend, despite their past, was premature, and her presence spelled no good news. What it meant, Carmine could only guess, but she expected a disryuption her plans.

And already that proved true. Of all the places Carmine expected to go, a cafe nestled in Reefcliff's mid-quarter was as far off the mark as she could get. A quaint little place, there were only a half-dozen tables in the rectangular lounge, though all were full. Coffee's scent welcomed them inside, and Carmine begged for a cup, silently of course.

“Hey, no pets- oh, damn it!” The clerk behind the counter, a ruddy-faced old woman in a coffee stained apron, watched Kathir leap past her reach and further into the store. Her narrow, miffed eyes turned on Emmet and Carmine next, accusing them of letting this terrible beast inside.

“It’s fine, Lory,” a man called over from the table closest to the counter. Kathir leapt up beside him and sat, vigilant. “She's a friend of mine.”

“We'll see how you feel when you find its hair in your lunch.” The clerk countered. Impatience stuck in her eye like salt. “You two just blocking my door?”

Quick with an apology, Emmet moved aside. He pulled out a chair for Carmine, gentlemanly as ever, and sat next to her across from the stranger. Suspicion only mounted as Carmine laid eyes on him. A veil covered half his face, and he wore a hooded cloak over his fiber-woven garb. Flexible wooden braces ran parallel over his right arm, and silver glyphs embedded within hinted at some enchantment. Carmine knew the desire to hide certain scars, but wisps of arcane leaked out from his being. Focusing her eyes, she started to peer through the cracks in the illusion. Where his braced arm slipped out through the sleeve, she saw the image of flesh flicker and fade. In its wake remained varnished wood, and a doll-like hand crafted finer than mortal hands could make.

“Kathir was right,” A smile cracked out from beneath the veil, where his face remained mostly flesh and blood, “You are good.”

“Who are you?” Carmine asked. She raised her guard higher, but more so her curiosity begged an answer to his condition.

“My name is Fenix,” he replied. Lowering his hood, a pair of pointed ears sprang free, one flesh, one wood, “and I've come to give you a warning.”