Screaming. Fire. Smoke.

In the course of a single afternoon, my life had burned to the ground around me.

It was what I wanted. What I'd been convinced I wanted. Now I wasn't so sure.

I kept one hand over my mouth as I ran, trying in vain to keep the worst of the lavender fumes from my lungs. As it was, the smoke clung to my skin, filling the air with the stench of smog and ash. The ground was slick with rainfall, the muck beneath it sucking against my wooden shoes as if trying to keep me here, to stop me from leaving.

Tears ran down my cheeks, tears that felt so warm against my face that I feared they'd turn to steam and blind me. I moved the hand away from my face, using it to keep the purple tome in my arms secure against my chest.

My other hand was outstretched, blindly coming into contact with the hard black bark of a tree. I used it to guide me, hiding behind it for a moment of refuge to catch my breath. I pulled open the collar of my ceremonial robes, one of the few places free of smoke, breathing through the one place I could. It felt traitorous in a way, that I was only able to breathe through the one thing I wanted to escape from.

An explosion rang in my ear, putting me off balance. My heart roared in my ears, and I dragged myself to my feet. The explosion sent another gout of lavender flames and smoke into the sky, joining the cloud that blotted out all light. I had a duty to fulfill. If I stuck around any longer, I might not have the willpower to-

"Keep going!" the Knight roared, their voice echoing in my one good ear.

I caught glimpses of them through the smoke as I turned to look. Abnormally tall, dark grey skin, light silver hair, and a young charge clinging to their back for dear life. Even now, our [High Priestess] was being so, so brave.

Both were cloaked in the Knight's wispy black and silver [Mantle], even as a group of people in the same robes as me shot balls of lavender flames at them. Some of the other defectors stood by the Knight's side, pushing outwards with a flash of purple light, blowing the flames away. Even with the wall of Casters using [Release], their bodies were licked by flame, burning their quivering arms and shoulders. Our pursuers, our former kin, were relentless.

Despite the situation, I couldn't bring myself to blame them. They had to be as frightened as I was. As we were. This single afternoon would change everything for us.

I pushed myself forward through the muck, stealing a glance upward. I hoped to see the bright violet sky above, but my eyes found nothing but clouds of smoke. A familiar smoke, one that had never been as dark or as soul crushing as it was now.

I joined the defectors, all of us moving as a group. We'd been trained to act as a unit, even if we'd never expected to use that training against our own.

Furious screeching reached my ears, rising above even the crackling flames subsuming the swamp and the explosions of battle. The [Matron] was here.

"Don't stop!" the Knight shouted, trying their hardest to be audible above the screeching, a noise that would have put the strongest of Banshees and Sirens to shame. "If you do, we'll have to leave you behind!"

A wave of heat washed over us as another flash of light echoed outside my vision. I held my breath, just in case, as the heat rubbed uncomfortably against my skin. I wasn't burning yet, but that could change if I hesitated for even a moment.

Several of the others were breathing hard, starting to slow down. I made my way over to a pair, one Drow and one Darkling.

"Don't stop now," I started, saying it for my benefit as much as it was for theirs. "Think of the outside world! Everything the Knight told us about is waiting for us outside this swamp! We just need to keep-"

An explosion further behind us drowned out my words. With an unspoken agreement, we ran again. The Drow woman, a young one with long platinum blonde hair and terrified eyes, kept up the pace, even if she was breathing hard. The Darkling man fell behind, unable to keep up. My tome swung open, and I opened my mouth to cast. I had to help him. All we had was each other now. I breathed in a puff of smoke as he tripped over a sprawling root hidden beneath a deep puddle. Instead of a Spell, I coughed, forcing the pervasive gas from my lungs. I had to keep moving.

I turned, following the young Drow as we got further from the fighting. Some of the others were holding back the loyalists, even if it wasn't for long. They had to buy time.

The climb uphill was starting to take its toll. Not just on me, but on all of us. The air was as hot from hard, laboured breaths as it was from fire and smoke. We climbed further and further, some offering a helping hand to those at the end of their rope.

The Knight reached the end of the road, the highest point of the cliff we'd called our own. Trees of black bark and an ocean of deep purple leaves lay further below. The drop had never bothered me before now, but today it seemed more daunting than it ever had.

"S... Scouts!" the Knight gasped, turning around as the wind whipped hair into their face. "Start getting the transport ready!"

I nodded, feeling like they'd spoken to me directly, even if she'd addressed the group. I kneeled against the damp dirt, opening the tome. It had been a gift from the Knight, proof of the wonders the outside world held. The pages flicked through themselves in a flurry of motion before landing on the section we needed. Words in a foreign tongue and a colourful diagram depicting an enormous eagle were sprawled out on the pages before me. My eyes traced the diagram, memorising every inch of the monster as my magic-

"Kill the heretics! Enemies of Pei'reshak!"

The sound broke my concentration as my breathing quickened. My eyes ran over the page as I forced my Soul to work harder and faster. The page was blanketed in an orange light as the Familiar began to form above my head, but I didn't dare look up, even as it made the text illegible.

The sound of gravel and water being knocked into the air by blasts of force grew closer as our defenders were pushed towards us. We had no more time to waste.

I focused hard, praying to every God that would listen that we wouldn't die here. If we couldn't escape, this would all be for nothing. Nothing but a show of defiance that died with a sad whimper.

"[Sky High Eagle]," I finished, sending the last unspoken command and bit of information to my creation.

"Knight..." I heard someone murmur, further away. "My skin..."

"I'm sorry, but we have to focus," the Knight replied. "If we don't get out now, we won't get another chance."

The pain in their voice was enough to stab lances of guilt through my heart. We had to focus.

I forced my trembling body to its feet, looking up at the Familiar. An enormous orange eagle formed of glowing light, flapping its wings as it hovered in the air off the cliffside. It wasn't the only mode of transport at our disposal. I caught sight of a white snake covered in black tattoos and stripes hovering in the air, next to a series of interconnected lavender cubes with holes on the top covered in glowing sacred texts, each big enough to hold a person. The cliffside was covered by an assortment of other conjured methods of flight. I could only hope it would be enough.

"Listen up."

My head turned on its own accord, looking towards the Knight.

"This isn't going to be easy," they said, addressing us all. "They don't have as many ways to catch us as we do to escape, but that won't mean we'll get out without any issues. If we travel as a pack, chances are they'll be able to hit multiple people at once. We have to split up."

Worry clawed its way deep into my chest.

"Some of us will reunite at Port Jidda, but if we all stay together, our chances of being caught and killed go way up. Find a way to leave the continent if you can. If you can't, look for somewhere to hide. Get yourself set up somewhere, earn some coin and a reputation, and find a way to contact the others. We'll all need to lay low for a while, but once we get back on our feet, we can support each other. Remember, none of us are alone. We've got each other."

I could see the spark in the Knight's eye as they turned around, holding the young [High Priestess] tight with both arms.

"The world outside is worth the effort," the Knight said. "The people are only so-so, sure, but trust me, the food, drink and music out there is worth the rebellion."

A smile found my face, but I could feel the fingers of worry threatening to drag it down.

The Knight stepped forward off the cliff, onto the back of a Familiar, a gigantic grinning white head covered in face paint, a pair of flapping angelic wings at its sides.

"Now let's get out of this dump!"

There were some cheers from others in the group, but I didn't have the energy to add to the call.

I stepped off the cliff, looking down at the drop of certain death below before planting my feet onto the back of my eagle. The other cultists joined the Knight, stepping off the cliff and onto the assorted mounts and Familiars.

Another explosion tore the air apart as the sky above was blanketed by smoke, the smoke growing thicker and more pervasive than ever. In the distance, I saw a black silhouette with long nails and glowing red eyes, one that radiated sheer malice and hatred. One that promised violence towards any that acted against it.

"Go! Go! Go!" the Knight shouted. At the sight of the [Matron's] aura, the Familiars took off, departing from the cliffside.

Some of the warriors that had been holding off the other cultists leapt off the cliff, hands outstretched. Some managed to grab onto the tails of constructs or the extended hands of cultists not wanting to leave their kin behind. Some managed to survive. To escape.

Others weren't so lucky.

I turned my face away from the fire and out towards the horizon.

_______________________________________________

When I looked into the mirror, I saw a different person.

They looked similar. They had the same long black hair, red skin and orange eyes, but their face seemed different. Changed. The lines of worry on her forehead weren't as pronounced. The look in her eyes seemed more... empty? Aimless. Without set jobs to complete for the day, whether that was washing robes, lighting ceremonial fires, or scouting the surroundings for monsters or heretics, they seemed aimless. But that aimlessness wasn't all bad. I saw hope in those eyes, too.

With a brush in hand, I gingerly redirected my hair away from the pair of crimson horns sticking up from my forehead. Instead, I tucked it behind my pointed ears, letting the orange hoop earrings out into full view.

I reached for the backpack atop the dresser just beneath the mirror, slinging it over my shoulder before turning away.

My hand found the cold, metallic handle of the door, and I stepped out of the rented room. The hallway was packed with people. Our people. This was the farthest we'd ever been from the compound, and already feelings were running high. I stepped past a pair of Drow chattering excitedly to one another about the docks. I felt as giddy as they looked, but there was an undercurrent of worry in the air. The lingering scent of smoke that hung off us like a lifetime of regret permeated the air, not allowing us to forget all that had happened.

My shoes found the varnished wood stairs at the end of the stiflingly hot corridor. I walked down the helix staircase as natural light greeted me. Grey afternoon light trickled in the window, illuminating the hotel's front lobby.

Sitting on a bench next to the window, I saw one of the others. A young Drow woman with platinum blonde hair, one with a harrowed expression. Not all of the cultists were taking the separation well, even if they tried to hide it.

I sat down on the plush red bench next to her. She didn't even seem to notice me sit down. Her eyes were fixed on something across the room, something I turned to look at, following her gaze. Within a ring of dark blue stone and a protective iron grate sat a fire, crackling and burning gently within. Wisps of smoke drifted from the fireplace and up through the chimney, disappearing from sight.

In front of the fireplace was a short man, one with dark brown skin, wiry hair and ragged clothes. The man hummed to himself, sweeping the floor without a care in the world. The edges of his skin and clothes blurred when I looked at them. When I saw his face, it seemed... fuzzy, in a way. Indistinct. It was only when I looked at him out of the corner of my eye could I see the contented smile, small eyes and bulbous nose on his face.

He was a Spirit, although not a type I'd ever seen before coming to Port Jidda. The Knight had explained that they were a type of 'house Spirit', one that bound themselves to a given place and performed tasks in exchange for milk and bread. It was only when the Knight further elaborated that I learned why I'd never seen any of them at the compound.

The Brunaidh were afraid of fire.

I placed a hand on the Drow's shoulder. She jumped, her face whirling around to meet mine. The look in her eyes made me gulp, and a wave of anxiety shook through my back. Her eyes were filled with nervous fright, as though she were a deer surrounded by flames, looking to bolt and escape at any given opportunity.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, here. Don't worry. Are you alright?" I asked, even if I already knew the answer.

The young Drow shook her head. I couldn't tell if she wasn't, or if she didn't know how she felt. It was hard to tell how young she really was. She was probably much older than me, but the Knight had told us all Elven races aged differently to others. That went for their mental age, too.

"You don't need to be afraid in this place. The Knight reserved it just for us. Nobody will find you here, if you need to rest or take time to think."

The Knight had privately booked this place for the day. I didn't know how much that would have cost her, but some of the younger cultists needed it. For now, the Moonsong Hotel would serve as our home. I was silently glad someone else had mentioned the name of the hotel before I had. I'd misread the sign over the entrance as the 'Monsoon Hotel'. If I'd made a mistake like that and someone had found out, I fear I'd have died of embarrassment.

I looked down, spotting a pair of sheathed knives around the Drow's waist. She could have been a [Hunter], or maybe an apprentice [Priestess]. Looking back on things now, I could only hope those daggers weren't for ceremonial use.

"Are you a [Hunter]?" I asked, hoping to get her mind off of things.

Her eyes drifted down away from the fire, landing on the blue tiled floor.

"No... I'm a [Priestess]..." she murmured. She seemed resigned to the thought. Regretful and uncertain.

I moved my hand from her shoulder, leaving it resting on my knee. For a few minutes, I sat there with her, idly watching the fire. Even if I planned on exploring the port, I wanted to give her some company, first.

"Are you...?" she spoke. I turned my head, and found that she'd been looking up at me.

"I'm Sheera Valastrail," I told her. "I'm a dedicated [Scout]."

Making a split-second decision, I took my backpack off. I placed it down onto the cold floor, undoing the straps so I could rummage around inside. I pulled out my tome, a dark purple book with a golden binding to it. I opened it up, careful to avoid the page with the eagle. I didn't want to bring up any bad memories.

Instead, I found a page with a well detailed drawing. On it was a coloured picture of a long, blue and black furred ferret-like creature, one with a black stripe around its puffy sky blue mane. It framed a cat-like face with long whiskers, yellow eyes and a pair of huge bat ears.

I held the book open, showing it to the girl.

"What's this...?" she asked, curiosity temporarily overwhelming her anxiety. I smiled at the sight. Nobody could call themselves a follower of Pei'reshak without having a healthy desire to learn from the unknown.

"This is a Tatzelwurm," I said, passing it to her. She took the book without question, eyes filled with wonder scanning the page. "It's a Monster that lives in Volkinheim, a land across the seas. Its ears are very sensitive to sound, and it can breathe a poisonous gas to ward off predators. It hunts owls and Hidebehinds for food, and can get very territorial."

She looked up towards me, her expression clouded with confusion.

"But they can serve as great companions, too. They're very loyal, and love to curl up on mats, couches or around their owner's shoulders."

With one hand, I pointed to the image, drawing her eyes back to the page.

"The strangest thing about them is that they're usually the size of a ferret, but if they have something to protect, they get far bigger. Some can even grow to the size of a Direwolf."

Her eyes widened at the thought, pupils darting to read the text on the page.

"When they have someone to watch out for, they get much bigger than what they would be alone. It's a good lesson to remember."

I tapped the girl's shoulder, rising to my feet.

"I'm going to scope out the docks for a while. Would you care for my tome while I'm gone?"

She looked up towards me, and I smiled. The harrowed expression she'd worn had been cast away, at least for now.

"Oh... alright. T-thank you."

I leaned forward to grab my backpack, slinging it back over my shoulders. I stole a glance to my right at the Lapin behind the counter. He had his snout buried in a thick, leather-bound ledger. The Rabbitfolk's fur was a light blue, buried beneath a hand crafted suit. I pushed open the front doors as the sound of a bell rang out above me.

The cold air, scent of salt and the sound of seagulls struck me as I stepped out onto the docks, my new shoes clacking against the stone path.

The sky above was grey and covered with clouds, but that didn't make the world as dark as night. Now that we were at the coast, the violet had drained from the sky. Rays of sunshine slipped through the clouds, casting light on the docks.

My eyes were drawn to the gently swaying boats in the water further below. Past layers of descending paths, I saw ships of varying shapes, sizes and designs anchored at the port. As much as I'd have liked to, I didn't know how to tell the purposes of each ship, or how one differed in type to another.

On one, I spotted a Human [Sailor] slip a rolled up sheet of paper into the metallic holder strapped to the leg of a Mailbird, one that sat patiently on his arm. As he closed the cylinder, the hefty bird extended its wings and took flight, soaring past a smattering of seagulls and further into the port town.

I took the bird's lead, and travelled inward.

As the cold harbour winds whipped around me, I became very thankful for the fleecy red coat I wore. It worked in tandem with the jumper beneath and the thick pants below to shield me from the elements.

As much as I was thankful for the protection, they didn't have the same 'weight' to me as my robes had. I could still remember the ceremonial robes, and the blazing lavender flame design on the back. The symbol had meant something. It gave the clothes, and me, a sense of belonging.

These clothes were more comfortable and practical, but they lacked that same meaning. That same 'weight'. Maybe it was because of that, but it felt like the cold had never bothered me as much as it did now. Even still, I was glad for the bit of warmth the clothes provided.

As I walked deeper into the bowels of Jidda, I cast my eyes around. 'Shops' were things I'd only truly learned about from the Knight. The idea of earning coin and spending it for goods was an alien thing, one that filled me with apprehension. Why couldn't they just exchange what they needed with one another? Wouldn't that have been more efficient?

Despite my misgivings with the system of trade here, I couldn't deny that the town itself was wondrous and amazing. Alchemists. Blacksmiths. Tourist shops. Fishing stores. There seemed to be a shop for anything and everything. If one had coin, they could buy whatever they wanted. I silently vowed to use the allowance the Knight had bestowed upon us wisely.

I was glad the people of Jidda used the same script I was familiar with. If not for the coloured signs and icons, I would have been terribly, terribly lost. The Zeradonian Common used on the signs were one of the few things that helped me navigate the streets.

As alien as the streets might have been, I felt safe. Not because of the droves of lightly armed Darklings, Drow and Beastfolk wandering about in broad daylight, but because of the sense of security permeating the street. While not all of the stores were blessed with the protection of a Gargoyle sitting stationary on the roof, many were. The thought that I was being watched over by a legion of stone guardians helped to affirm that peace of mind.

I was glad to have some touchstone of familiarity in this strange, strange place, especially since I'd left my tome behind with the Drow girl.

The people around me were just as fascinating as the stores, too. I saw a Human with puffy black hair talking to a collection of slender Dolls. The man wore a fancy suit, one that shivered lightly with movement. It was only as he turned in my direction that I saw a pair of yellow eyes on the front of each shoulder. While there was no symbol or marking on the suit itself, the eyes were as much a defining feature as anything.

I saw tourists, too. Inura, Nekari and others I could place wore lighter clothes than my own, unburdened by the cold. Some wore caps or wristbands, each blue with the symbol of an older Human's head, one with a bushy beard, eyes obscured by shadow and a pair of antlers emerging from his forehead. Another symbol, another method of identification. Of belonging.

I felt strangely naked now, without the robes. Symbols were important. They showed one's affiliations and allegiance. With them, they carried a sense of belonging. I didn't want to be associated with the Kindred Infernal anymore, but not being able to call their symbol my own made me feel smaller. It was freeing, but I felt as though I'd been cut loose. That I could have been blown away by the wind if I wasn't careful.

"Coming through!" a voice called out ahead of me.

I was pulled from my silent musings by the sound, hurrying to the side as a horse and cart moved through the streets.

I blinked, focusing on what I was looking at. On closer inspection, it wasn't a horse. The person pulling the cart was a Centaur, one with a black furred underside and a Human body on top. The cart was wooden, but painted in the same black as the Centaur, filled with Humanoids and Beastfolk adorned with unfamiliar symbols, glancing around the town with curious delight.

Even though I'd been born in Zeradonia, I felt like I was as much a tourist as they were. A stranger to my own land.

For a moment, I was tempted to stop him, to call out to the man and pay for a ride. As much as I wanted to, I didn't want to waste the money I'd been given. I didn't know how long we'd be staying in this port, and cutting the trip early would have been devastating.

With a heavy heart, I let the Centaur go without a word.

I turned a corner, going down an alley with some shade. Just to have a moment to collect myself.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"I... I've got no legs... they were cut... stolen from me," a voice wheezed, further down the alley.

I turned, looking towards a pair of Beastfolk standing next to a sickly green person lying against a wall. The two were arm in arm, their legs not unlike that of the Centaurs. Satyrs?

While I wasn't sure about the Beastfolk's race, the person on the ground was easier to identify. Their skin was emaciated and tinged green, with long black hair covering the majority of their face. Around their neck was a black lump of skin that protruded outwards. It almost looked diseased, if you didn't know what the lump was for. Like they had said, their legs were missing, a set of bandages wrapped around the pair of stumps protruding from their waist.

Lying down, curled up next to them was a dog, one with short brown fur and a metal face. The eyes, ears and neck were the same as any other hound, but their mouths, jaw and nose were formed of a dull steel. The nose and chin of the dog protruded upward and downward, making it seem more like a pickaxe than a creature's head.

On the ground in front of the man was a sign, with the words 'will take food, drink or scrap for the dog' scrawled on the front.

The Satyrs looked at one another, their expressions filled with sympathy. I wanted to tell them it was unwarranted, but I wanted to get on the bad side of a local even less.

The female reached into a pouch at their waist, pulling a few bronze coins from within. She leaned down, handing the Dia to the man, who smiled behind the curtain of hair.

"T... thank you... kindly..." he rasped.

The pair nodded, continuing their walk down the street.

Once they were out of earshot, I stepped forward.

"M... miss... do you have any change...? I've got no..."

"Have you actually lost your legs?" I asked.

The man frowned beneath the hair, lowering a shaking arm down to the stumps.

"I... my legs were t-t-taken... cut off by criminals..."

I pointed towards a thick white blanket nestled next to the dog, one that I presumed the man slept under. The blanket had a pair of cylindrical bulges visible just beneath the surface. To someone who didn't know what the man was, they could have been anything. I couldn't be sure, and part of me was horrified that I was wrong, but...

"Are those your legs?" I asked. "What's under the blanket?"

The man trembled for a moment, looking up at my face. Beneath the hair covering his face, I saw tears running down his cheeks. My heart ached with sadness and pity, but I held firm.

"N... no. I won't fall for your [Crocodile Tears]. Are those your legs?"

The tears stopped as abruptly as they appeared, and the man smiled. He raised the blanket, revealing a pair of equally emaciated green legs.

"I trust you won't say anything, will you? Are you a local? I haven't seen you around."

Was I? I wasn't a local to this town, even if I'd been born in this land.

"N... no?" I answered uncertainly. "This is my first time coming to Jidda."

The man stretched an arm out towards the dog. I saw skin tear and muscles rip as his forearm was torn from his body. Despite the severing, no blood dripped from the open wound. The arm drifted towards the dog, scratching its back. The dog's hind leg kicked back and forth with pleasure.

"Tourists are easy money..." he said. "Can't tell a sick man from a Manananggal. They do not know us."

They had been the ones to fall for the ruse, that was true. In a way, they'd been taught a Zeradonian lesson. I wouldn't fault him for that.

"Do you need the money? If you don't have a home, I can-"

The man raised his intact hand even as the severed limb returned, the skin and muscle knotting back together.

"I live with others of my kind, but if you have money to spare, I'll gladly take it."

The honesty was refreshing. The Knight might have been wrong for once when they'd said the people beyond the compound were 'so-so'. It was a thought that felt treacherous in its own right, but I stood firm in my convictions, like they'd told me to do. I reached into my backpack, taking out a few bronze coins like the Satyrs had before me, handing them to the man.

"Here..." I said.

"Thank you kindly," he replied, still smiling. "May the Gods look favourably on your path."

I nodded to the Manananggal and his Axehandle Hound, continuing my walk. I raised an arm to cover my eyes as I stepped out of the shade and back out into the bright open streets.

The buildings were closer together now, harder to navigate than the dock area had been. The streets were tighter, even if wagons and people riding Moa birds had enough room to squeeze through. It was almost suffocating, especially without my tome.

A shadow passed over me from above. I looked skyward, spotting a Drow woman with dark hair and a black cat on her shoulder. If the robes, pointed hat and flying broom were any indication, she was a [Witch]. She piloted the broom with one hand, the other holding a Vox. She tapped away at the screen, not even looking at where she was flying as the light from the artefact lit up her face.

I felt a pang of envy and no small amount of indignation. More than anything, I wanted to be like her. I wanted to fly over this city and observe everything without a care in the world. I knew it was a selfish thought, but I couldn't keep the feeling within from bubbling to the surface.

I knew it wasn't safe to summon my Familiar, not after so much extended use. I'd flown over plains, forests and swamps, dropping off other members of the cult to go their own way, splitting up like the Knight commanded. Flying with multiple people on my Familiar's back had been incredibly taxing. With the cult at our heels, I couldn't afford to burden the group by getting Soulburn.

Even if I hated how there was so much beautiful scenery for her to see, yet she cared for none of it.

I broke free of the tightly packed streets, finding an open town square. The scent of baked goods and fried foods tickled my nostrils. My stomach roared in protest, an act that caused my cheeks to burn. I clutched my stomach with both hands, as if it could muffle the sound.

Maybe it had been the change in scenery or the recent exhaustion, but I'd needed much more food as of late. The new foods and delicious smells certainly hadn't helped me suppress the constant hunger. I just really, really wished I could use the [Silence] Spell.

I made my way towards the center of the square, where a collection of thickly built Dolls carried slabs of white stone to a single worker. The worker in question was short, squat and covered in black fur, surrounded by a hard edged black [Mantle]. Its hooved feet clattered against the ground as it easily lifted a chunk of stone as big as it was, slotting it into place. The small goat-person, the Chort, was fixing a damaged fountain. A section of the structure had been blown up, if the cracks and rounded hole in the side was any indication. I'd never seen a Chort in action, but I'd heard that several had helped to build the compound.

A Human with long purple hair accompanied the Dolls. The space around his eyes glowed violet, a colour identical to that of the glow surrounding the blocks of stone hovering in the air above him. I knew it was stupid to lament over the magic one didn't have instead of love and favour what one did, but [Psions] had it easy when it came to some tasks. Being able to use [Telekinesis] to turn the pages of a novel or clean up a mess without needing to move a muscle would be an amazing ability to have.

The fountain's water had spilled out onto the street, but the Chort seemed to take no notice of the liquid coating his hooves. With a chisel and a bucket of grey paste, he repaired the outer edge of the fountain with no problem. The center of the fountain had a statue atop it, one that I was very familiar with.

It was carved with purple stone, which stood out against the rest of the fountain. A short Humanoid with hair going down to their shoulders, a pair of horns protruding from their forehead, curling backwards. The teeth were sharp, visible through the grinning mouth. They had a small whip-like tail, snaking out from behind a long cape and a loose suit. In their hand was a long staff, one with dark claws curling around an orb at the top. They were a figure anyone in Zeradonia could place in an instant.

Zeraphine Phopias.

The Night Queen. The Demon Empress. The leader of the entire Zeradonian Empire. A member of the World Council, and one of the most powerful people on Alvelotyl.

Their likeness was found around most settlements in one form or another. I could imagine even [Hermits] that hadn't ever seen a proper building would know her face. Even if the fountain had been vandalised, the statue remained pristine and untouched. Whether it was out of fear or reverence, there was no way to know.

In front of the statue was a set of softly glowing wooden stocks painted purple. It was well kept. Just as untouched and sacred as the statue, albeit for different reasons. I understood that troublemakers needed to be punished, and that it was still better than the cult's methods, but there had to be a better way of doing things.

I let my nose guide me to a bakery, the 'Orc's Snout'. I'd never seen an Orc before coming here, but the Knight had told us about them. A race of 'Boarfolk' capable of some of the best cooking one could find. If the scent was to be trusted, the Knight was once again right.

I pushed open the door, leaving the scent of salt in the air and the sound of steel banging against stone behind me.

The Orc behind the counter was massive, a wall of fur and flesh with small eyes and a massive pink nose. His brown fur was mostly tucked away behind blue work clothes and an apron, one that read 'Compliment the Chef'. The word 'Kiss' had been drawn through by a red marker, with the word 'Compliment' written around it.

I approached the counter, my tail instinctively drooping down. If I'd felt small in comparison to the people walking outside, I was an insect compared to the Orc.

"H... Greetings," I said, praying to all the Gods that would listen that he spoke Zeradonian Common. "Is there a... food... list?"

I knew there was a specific word for that. The Knight had used it, but I couldn't bring it to mind. Without a word, the Orc pointed one meaty finger at a blue board on the wall overhead. Prices and names for foods I'd never had lined the board.

I didn't know whether I'd have time to eat a full meal, but I wanted meat. Needed it. Craved it.

Trusting that the name wasn't being literal, I raised a single shaking hand to the price list.

"Can I have... an... Orc's Finger...?"

I hoped my voice hadn't squeaked, but I couldn't be sure. The conversation in itself felt surreal.

The Orc let out a huff of air through his nostrils. With how much I was shaking, I felt mildly surprised it hadn't knocked me over.

"Take seat. Will bring food," he spoke in a voice deeper than any I'd ever heard, one that sent chills down my spine.

I nodded, heading over to an empty seat by the window without complaint. The chairs all had holes at the back, something I was very thankful for as my tail slipped through. I slipped my backpack from my shoulder, leaving it down on the windowsill next to the table. From here, I had a good view of the square, of the people working, walking and chatting. Regular civilians, living a life of relative peace. Ours had been a 'traditional Zeradonian lifestyle', but it seemed so at odds with a place like Port Jidda.

It gave me some sense of hope for the future, one that came with an equal sense of unease.

I wanted a life like this, didn't I? The life of the cult hadn't been for me. That much I knew for sure. It had provided some form of safety in the knowledge that I was useful, and that I had a purpose. I was needed by my people, and I did the tasks required of me. Without that, I felt disorganised and directionless. I wanted adventure and the chance to explore the world, but I also wanted a place to call my own and set down roots. But those two things couldn't go together, could they? Did I even know what I really wanted? I was a mess. That much was certain.

I glanced around the plaza, looking for some excuse to stop dwelling on depressing ideas while I should be enjoying myself. The plaza was populated by races both familiar and unfamiliar, local and foreign, old and new. I thought about what I was looking at, and realised there weren't any Undead around. Maybe the sapient Undead didn't like the coast. Or maybe they weren't good for the tourist industry. The Knight had told us a lot about how Undead were seen very differently in foreign lands. Perhaps that had something to do with it.

I'd never been very knowledgeable about the Undead, anyway. I knew how Souls and Spirits worked, but I'd never cared much for the living dead beyond warning ground patrols of incoming Zombies, Skeletons, or Ghouls. They didn't hold any of the wonder or interest in-

"Orc's Finger," boomed a voice behind me.

I jumped in my seat, turning to look up at the Orc standing over me. For a moment, I was frozen. Paralysed. The feeling passed after I heard a plate being gingerly placed on the table. The monster of a man turned, walking back towards the counter as I was left to glance down at what he left behind.

My hand instinctively shot towards my mouth the smell shot up my nose. The effect it had on me was powerful and immediate. I couldn't feel any drool dripping from my mouth, but I didn't want to take the chance. The 'Orc's Finger' was a long strip of red, cooked meat. The steaming meat was surrounded by a soft bread-like bun. Even without any additions, the smell of the meat left my stomach growling.

I glanced back towards the Orc to see if he was looking at me, and to my dismay I found that he was.

I turned away from his beady eyes, looking down at the food. I... shouldn't let it go cold. With my other hand, I reached down, grabbing the soft bun. I could feel the heat of the meat through the bread, a heat that radiated into my salivating mouth as I brought it close. I took a bite, immediately regretting it as my tongue cried out against the heat. I'd eaten hot foods before, but this had just come out of whatever oven, rotisserie, or other method the Orc had used to cook it. It was piping.

Even with that in mind, I felt no urge to spit the food out in pain. I endured, savoring the flavor as I felt tears spill from my eyes. Was I being melodramatic? I didn't want to look like a fool in front of a [Chef], but this food was beyond anything I'd ever eaten before. Every other food I'd tried briefly faded into memory as I chewed the food. Compared to this, everything else I'd ever eaten might as well have been grass.

The Orc grunted, and my head turned to look at him.

With a meaty finger, which I was relieved to note hadn't been severed to feed me, he pointed towards the apron. I looked at the text, and I got the message.

"It's amazing..." I spoke, through a mouthful of warm goodness.

The Orc grunted and nodded, as if satisfied. His beady eyes left me, turning back towards the door. I was able to focus on eating once again, allowed to focus on nothing but-

"[Time to go, everyone! The boats are here. Meet up at the harbour within the next ten minutes, if you can. If you can't, I'll be expecting a good explanation or a very good story when you get here.]"

The voice resonated in my mind. It was an order from the Knight. I got to my feet, pushing the chair back as I fumbled to get my bag's straps over one shoulder. The other hand refused to let go over the Orc's Finger. I began to unwind myself from my chair, making my way towards the door before a grunt stopped me in my tracks.

I turned to look at the Orc with cheeks full of food, not realising what the problem was. The Orc pointed towards the price on the food list, and dread filled my heart. Not only had I cried in front of the Orc, but I'd forgotten to pay, too!

In a rush, I unslung the bag, thrusting a hand into it to fumble for coins. I picked out a handful of bronze, with a silver coin or two trapped in the mix. I walked to the counter, planting it all down in front of him. I knew it was more than enough to pay, but...

"Please keep it," I muttered, swallowing the latest bite of this gift from the Gods. "The food was worth every coin."

I turned, hurrying back to the door with finger in hand, slinging the bag over my shoulder once again. Once it was secure, I pulled open the door, hearing a gruff "Come again another time. You are good customer," from behind me. I looked towards the titanic [Chef], giving him a decisive nod before the door closed behind me.

I ran, making good time over the stone streets as I took bite after bite of the food, savoring every bite as much as I could while jogging. More than before, I wished I was able to use my magic. The jog downhill towards the docks was much easier than the slight incline up, but my magic would have made the trek even easier. It wasn't long before I'd backtracked through the Manananggal's alley and towards the source of the mental [Message].

At the docks below, I saw a cluster of ships lined up next to one another, swaying in tandem as if listening to a beautiful hymn.

Not wanting to be late, I held the rest of the food in my mouth as I jogged down the winding paths towards the crowd of Western Drow, Darklings and others that made up the Kindred Infernal defectors. Once I was close enough to easily make it to the group, I slowed down, giving myself time to finish the meal before I met up with any of my kin.

I saw some of them looking around with wild eyes. Others shivered despite the thick clothing they wore. Others rubbed at patches of discoloured skin that had formed on their hands and lower arms. The sight was worrying, but I chalked it up to nerves. That, I could understand.

The docks stretched on farther than I could see, the wooden boardwalk and array of ships disappearing beyond my vision. With all the space they could have taken up, the former cultists gathered around our leaders and a small collection of seven boats lined up next to one another. The cold wind whipped ineffectually at my hair and clothes as I rejoined my people.

It didn't seem like I'd missed anything. Nobody had boarded any of the docked boats yet. At least, nobody from our group. Some had stepped up the lowered gangplanks and onto the boats. Some civilians, some adventurers. They were definitely adventurers, if the armor and glowing equipment were any indication.

Alongside the passengers, I saw some members of the crew, dressed in light uniforms befitting that of [Sailors]. Or, at least, what I had imagined [Sailors] should look like. Each of the ships were also inhabited by a collection of squat Humanoids, ones with pale, light blue or white skin wearing banana yellow or water blue raincoats.

They looked somewhat like Dwarves, but from what the Knight had said, all Dwarves had beards, while these people were clean shaven.

"E-excuse me," a voice behind me said. I turned away from the ships, looking towards the Drow girl from before. I felt a sense of relief flood my chest as I saw the tome in their arms. I didn't truly think she'd lose it, but... I had still worried.

I opened up the bag, gratefully taking the book back as I returned it to its rightful home.

"Thank you," she said, bowing her head. I smiled in return, patting her shoulder once again. This time, she'd only flinched. It was a step up from the jump of shock from earlier. Was that enough of a change to consider progress? I liked to think so.

"You're welcome," I responded, glad I could help. "I'm always happy to provide answers for the curious in need."

Over the course of the next few minutes, more of our people trickled down from the streets above, joining us at the docks. Some had purchased souvenirs, books, shell necklaces, bracelets with symbols adorning their wrists, and an assortment of other trinkets. Others carried no such things. They had elected to keep their coin, just in case. Had that been the wiser decision? Our group swelled in size, getting as big as it was likely to get. Our numbers seemed thinner than they had at the compound, after the Knight's speech. As disheartening as it was to see, it was... realistic.

After a wide sweep of the crowd with their expert eyes, the Knight addressed us. They stood at the forefront of our group, an entire six feet and seven inches tall, easily among the tallest of our remaining kin. Truly, they were larger than life. Next to them stood a Drow child, one with a dark silver tiara, a refined posture and a stoic expression. The [High Priestess].

The Knight took a deep breath, spreading both hands outward. A ball of sparkling silver light expanded from within her joined palms, growing over them and the crowd they led. They brought their hands together as the beautiful, translucent dome was complete.

"[Zone of Silence]," they intoned, finishing the Spell.

"Alright, listen up everyone," the Knight began. "I've called in a few favours to get us this far, but this is the most I can do for you all right now. This'll be where we part ways, but it isn't goodbye. This is just the next step in making sure we all get out of this mess in one piece. When you get out there into the wide world and away from that Godsforsaken compound, find a place to set yourself up. Find good people if you can, and try to adjust. As much as I want us to all stick together, splitting up is the best move. If some of us get caught or in trouble, the rest of us need to scrape up whatever resources we can to help each other out. This is something we'll only get through if we work to get through it together."

Their voice was reassuring, a smooth, easy sound that carried over the entirety of the silent crowd. I felt reassured as they spoke, my nerves calming to such a degree that I was certain their words carried a magical weight to them.

"Some of you will stick with me, and the rest will need to do what they can to find allies, get money, or weapons, or magical growth, or whatever. You get the idea. Anything you can do is better than nothing."

They reached up, rubbing the back of their neck as they looked up at the sky.

"I'm not going to tell you not to keep in touch, but don't overdo it. If we communicate too much with each other, chances are Minerva and her cronies are going to catch on. Doesn't matter if it's through postal services or Voxes. If it isn't through the occasional meet-up, she might find a way to track us down. I don't know what sort of resources she has at her beck and call, so we'll need to stay sharp."

They concluded their brilliant speech, glancing down towards the Drow next to them.

"You got anything you want to add, [High Priestess]?"

The child nodded, stepping forward. Even now, removed from their station, they acted with a grace and poise that only a true leader could have.

"Remain vigilant! Even if we aren't part of the cult anymore, I am still your [High Priestess]. I trust you will all act in the group's best interests. Those interests are to keep yourselves safe, and to make sure you can keep the others safe, too. Our continued survival is the ultimate goal of this group."

The Knight reached down, ruffling the [High Priestess'] hair. The young Drow looked up at the towering Knight with an indignant expression, but there wasn't a trace of anger or fire in their eyes, only mild annoyance.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," the Knight surely lied. "I'll start dividing you up, so when I call out your name, go to the ship I point you towards."

When their focus fell to individuals instead of the group, I felt relief wash over me, my shoulders sagging. When the Knight spoke, there was a gravitas in their voice that demanded attention, even if their tone sounded casual. It was captivating and reassuring in much the same way the [Matron's] voice had been frightening, ravenous for attention, diligence and worship.

"Erelra Hylein," the Knight spoke, breaking my train of thought. It was one name among many, punctuated only by the movement behind me. The girl I'd lent the tome to gave me a nod and a small bow.

"Thank you..." she said to me, turning towards a ship on the far right, which the Knight was jerking a thumb towards. I gave her one final wave as she walked up the gangplank. I prayed to the Gods that this wasn't the last time I'd seen her, but relying on the Gods hadn't been as fruitful as I could have hoped as of late.

The crowd thinned out as our kin separated, shaking hands, exchanging hugs and parting ways. The ships grew heavy with our feet until a small group of us, thirty at most, remained standing on solid ground. I'd never been on a boat before, and even if the thought frightened me, I was excited.

"The rest of you will stick with me and Ularai," the Knight said, gesturing to the [High Priestess] next to them. They turned, walking up the gangplank of the central ship. "C'mon! The ship won't bite. Probably."

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding. Even though part of me wanted to have been put on a smaller ship and left free to explore as I pleased, a bigger part of me craved the validation and guidance the Knight would provide. I was so, so relieved to be with them.

I was among the last to step onto the ship, my eyes widening at how the floor beneath me swayed back and forth. Although the motion had been mesmerising while watching it from afar, experiencing it first hand just made me feel queasy. I didn't know how long a journey across the sea would last, but... could I get used to this? I truly hoped so. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but it felt as though the ship could turn over and sink at any given time. It was worrying.

Maybe I was just overreacting. The Knight walked with the same casual grace they always did, completely unperturbed by the rocky movements of the boat. If they held no fear or worry in their heart, then I should take after their example. I steeled myself, taking a long, deep breath of sea air as I walked forward, trying to be as confident in my stride as they had been.

When the anchor was lifted and the boat started moving from the shore, I rushed for a seat, all thoughts of finding my sea legs forgotten.

I sat down, shivering against the cold wind as the boat gently rocked back and forth. As soon as I'd gotten enough rest, I'd fly alongside the ship on my Familiar. That would be far better than trying to relax on this thing. I wish I'd done research on sea travel. I was afraid to ask how long the trip would take, even though the curious part of me demanded answers. I could only hope it would be a few hours, at most.

In an effort to find some measure of comfort, I reached into my bag, pulling out my tome. A gift from the Knight, one of many the people of our cult received from them. I tried to focus on the pictures and words in front of me, but even they seemed to sway and wobble as I did.

"You holding up alright?" a voice to my right asked. My neck craned up as I looked into the eyes of the Knight. They sat down next to me as my body tensed, linking both hands behind their head as they lay back against the walls of the ship's front cabin, one leg swung over the other.

"I-I'm doing just fine, Miss Knight..." I stuttered out.

The Knight rolled their eyes, reaching for a flask at their waist. They unscrewed the top, taking a long swig of whatever was inside it. They let out a long sigh of contentment, then pointed a slender finger in my direction.

"We're not part of the cult anymore, Sheera. Don't call me 'Knight'. My name is Valanthe Khalyth. If I hear you calling me anything other than 'Val', I'll huck you over the side of the ship. Got it?"

Their... her voice was casual, carrying none of the weight it had minutes ago, during the speech. It was... reassuring, in a very different way to what it had been before. Not wanting to be flung into the ocean, I nodded.

"Understood... Miss Val."

"Val," she corrected, scratching at her neck as one of her eyes squinted closed. "None of this 'miss' stuff, unless we're conducting business."

I winced at the mistake, taking the chance to close my tome. The last thing I wanted to do was come across as rude after she'd taken the time to sit down and speak with me.

"Business?" I asked. I hadn't been expecting much of an answer, but like always, the Knight surprised me with one.

"Yeah, business. Our ship's headed for a city up in Scander, northern Volkinheim. I called in a favour from an old workmate of mine, and he managed to hook us up with some work. It won't be squeaky clean, but if we get ourselves situated, we can expect to have some warm beds and a steady supply of food and drink to keep us going. The city's full of little scuffles and opportunities for work. Getting a foothold there will help us get some better Casters in our pockets and find some worthwhile help, too."

She took another swig from the flash, shooting me a glance.

"If we're in front of people while on the job, only then will I not find something to throw you off of if you call me 'miss'. Best case scenario, I'll find something much cooler for you to call me than 'Miss Val'."

I nodded slowly, looking away from Val. For a few moments, we sat there in silence. I closed my eyes, trying to get used to the rocking of the boat. I tried to form a rhythm in my head in time with the ship, but the boat didn't sway at regular intervals. The waves weren't doing anything to help me settle my stomach. It didn't move in time with my heartbeat or my breathing. I couldn't even blink in time with the boat's shifting. The motion was too unpredictable. Too chaotic.

"Hey, Sheera, you feeling alright?"

I opened my eyes, turning to look back towards the older Drow. She was looking at me again. She ran her bright, silver eyes over my form, as though analysing me. Could she tell what I was thinking? No, it wasn't that. She wasn't just gauging my expression. Her eyes skimmed over my body from head to toe, never stopping for too long in any single place. Was she looking for body language?

"Yes... I'm just a little unused to... this," I replied, sweeping an arm forward, gesturing towards just about everything around us. It summed up my feelings pretty well.

For a few long seconds, her eyes didn't leave me. Now that I was looking closely at her face, I saw that her eyes were glowing, a silver light flickering at the edges like a burning flame. She blinked, frowning deeply as she looked away, the light vanishing nearly as quickly as I'd noticed it.

"Yeah, I get that. As long as that's all that's wrong."

Not knowing what to make of that or what I saw, I turned away.

I tucked the tome away into my bag. I picked it up by the straps, holding it close to my chest for some semblance of stability and support. The boat creaked and rocked beneath me, a sensation that I was becoming increasingly certain I wouldn't be getting used to any time soon. I found myself glancing towards the glowing pale people as they looked out over the ship's railings, excited smiles on their faces. They seemed so far away, now.

"Those guys," Val said, leaning towards me. "Are Klabautermanner. Some weird Dwarven or Gnomish race that love the ocean. If you saw any of them away from a harbour, dock or boat, you could call it rare."

I nodded numbly, not sure what to make of the Knight's words. What did she mean by what she'd said before? Was there something wrong, something more than I knew? Should I be worried? Should I be as reassured that things would work out as she was? I didn't know. She reached up, idly scratching at her cheek.

"They make great [Sailors], and you won't find a more reliable deckhand than them anywhere. Better still," she said, grinning as she elbowed me in the side. "They're loyal to the ship. Really loyal. If the boat starts to sink, they'll stand there and go down with the ship without even trying to get off it."

The idea confused and horrified me more than it gave me any sense of reassurance. I looked towards the grinning Drow, not sure whether that was meant to ease my queasy nerves or put me even more off balance.

"Did you get anything at port?" Val asked, presumably after having seen my expression.

I nodded, looking back towards the Drow, the gears in my brain slowly starting to turn again.

"Yes... I got something to eat."

She smiled, nodding sagely.

"Jidda has some pretty great food joints. Did you try any of the sweets or pastries? If you had the nose to find a Fancy Freakies, you'll officially be my favourite."

I shook my head, glancing back towards the ocean.

"No... I had an Orc's Finger."

"Pfffft," Val spluttered. My head whipped back towards her, worried she'd started choking on something. Instead, she had a hand covering her mouth, trying to hold back laughter as her grin stretched from ear to ear.

"What...? Did I say something wrong?" I asked. I started to worry about what I'd been fed, and whether or not that heavenly food had been the right thing to spend money on.

The- Val waved a hand dismissively, shaking her head.

"No, no, don't worry about it. I wouldn't order it myself, but to each their own. If you really enjoyed an Orc's Finger, then I'm happy for you, Sheera."

Her grin still stayed on her face, as if she was taking part in some private joke I wasn't in on, one that-

A flash of white entered my vision.

I blinked with shock, glancing upwards towards the source, my unease temporarily forgotten. At the top of the mast, sitting in the crow's nest, was a Darkling. The Darkling with a scraggly beard who's name I'd never learned, shined a bright white light, one that flickered on and off. I wasn't sure why he was doing something like that until I turned my eyes forward.

Surrounding the dock, I saw what the man was signaling. My shoulders slackened, and my eyes poked forward, as if threatening to pop out of my head. Through the mist, a colossal shadow was cast over the boat, drowning everything in darkness. Ahead of us, I saw a wall, one that stretched farther than my eye could see to either side, a titanic structure crafted from hard purple stone, a bastion against the beasts of the sea, and a line of defense for the port. Atop the wall, through the mist, I saw the flicker of another light. Someone else was signaling back.

Along the length of the wall were black lines in its surface, thick indents in the otherwise smooth, unmarred surface. Far ahead of our small boat, one of those black lines spread apart, splitting down the middle. My eyes widened as a section of the wall opened up, allowing water to rush in from outside, spilling into the harbour area. Through the comparatively small hole in the wall, I could see the vast sea beyond the harbour. The sea our small group of boats would soon encounter.

"All of you don't know what you were missing, being stuck in that place," Val said, still smiling to herself. "The world's a huge place, Sheera. Trust me, you're all in for a treat. A treat almost as good as an Orc's Finger."