This time, when they arrived at the gates to the enclave of the House of the Third Son, the captain didn’t make them wait. It wasn’t that he recognized them - indeed, Jasper doubted it was the same captain at all - but as soon as Moon-kissed Djinn caught a glimpse of the royal colors Jasper wore, he hastened out of the guard house to welcome them.

“My lord,” he said, bowing stiffly, “what brings an emissary of the royal court to our humble House?”

“We’re here on private business, not as royal emissaries,” Jasper clarified. “But I believe Lord Rā’imu will want to see us as soon as possible.”

“Of course,” the man’s stiff posture eased upon learning that they were not there on royal business. “Lord Rā’imu has many visitors these days. I’ll send some of my men to alert him that you’re here.”

“No need,” Jasper replied easily. “We know the way to his estate.” The captain of the guard hesitated a moment as his obligation to his House to not let uninvited strangers wander their grounds clashed with his desire to not offend a member of the royal house. “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to wait while we send messengers? My men serve an excellent cup of Maqta,” the man ventured hopefully.

Jasper suppressed a shudder at the thought of the sickly sweet beverage and turned the man down flat. “No thanks. We’re in a bit of a hurry, actually - a mutual friend of ours has been taken and we were hoping Rā’imu would want to lend a hand.”

The man hesitated a moment longer, then caved. “Very well, my lord,” he said resignedly. “You’ll find Lord Rā’imu’s estate about an hour’s ride down the road. Although,” he muttered beneath his breath, “you clearly don’t know Rā’imu very well if you think he’ll be any use in battle.”

Pretending he didn’t hear the captain, Jasper waited patiently as the guards pulled back the gates before spurring Dapplegrim onward.

The group’s progress was slow as the weather from the night before had not improved in the slightest. Instead, the sleet had morphed into a snowstorm that was only a touch below a blizzard in its intensity. The winds raged against them so fiercely that, rather than its usual, languid drifting, the snow pelted against their bodies at a nearly horizontal angle.

As they progressed higher up into the foothills, the snow grew deeper until it blanketed the road so thoroughly enough that three normal horses - Nēs̆u’s along with Tsia’s and Annatta’s mounts that they had brought with them - were slowed to a crawl, trudging through the drifting banks through sheer tenacity. But as the first, low-laying walls of Rā’imu’s estate came into view, the path began to improve, trodden down by a truly surprising amount of traffic.

The grand old edifice and its grounds had been nearly a ghost town the last time they’d visited. Lacking the talent for combat that his father possessed, the elders had left Rā’imu nothing more than the bare minimum of servants to man his father’s estate, but that had clearly changed in the meantime.

The estate now was a bustling hive of activity, with wagons and servants streaming in and out of the gates loaded down with shipments of planks, stone, and earth, while from the northern side of the enclave, the clink and clang of construction shattered the silence of the snowfall.

As the three rode through the estate’s gates, the source of the noise became obvious. Rā’imu’s main residential hall was ensconced in scaffolding on all sides and from the size of the construction, it was clear it was undergoing a significant expansion.

Cloaked by the driving snow, they passed through the clustered servants unhindered and rode straight up to the gate. Only then were they stopped by guards.

This time, the guards would not let them through the doors without consulting with their lord. Their wait in the bitter cold stretched on for longer than Jasper had expected before the doors finally burst open.

Rā’imu still sported the thin, skinny horns and mop of tawny hair, but it was clear some things had changed with him as well. His previously pale skin now possessed a subtle silver hue shine that suggested he’d leveled up, and his bright blue eyes sparked with a genuine joy he hadn’t displayed before.

“You came back,” he exclaimed, stretching his arms out in welcome. “I knew you would. I…” His head swiveled between their three faces, and his brow knit in confusion. “Where’s Tsia?” He asked. “Isn’t that why you returned? To see me again?”

Jasper grimaced. “It is, but not the way you think. Can we discuss this inside?”

Worry etched in his eyes, the Moon-kissed quickly ushered them in, and as soon as the doors had closed behind them, barring out the frigid weather, he turned to Nēs̆u with a demanding look. “Where’s my sister?”

The Sicyan bowed his head. “She was taken,” he rasped out. “Snatched by a group of cultists who have set up camp in Dūr-Yarha.”

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The Djinn’s eyes widened. “Taken? By a cult?“ His brows knit together in confusion. “What cult? The only cult I can think of in the area is those accursed Nizirtū, but they don’t leave their hole. Surely they weren't the ones who kidnapped Tsia?”

“No,” Jasper answered for Nēs̆u, “The nizirtū are not the ones who took her, but we do think she was taken by a group working with the Nizirtū, a cult known as the Brotherhood of Yas̆gah. And unfortunately, we're pretty sure they took her to Naḫas̆s̆innu.”

Sorrow swept across Rā'imu's face. “Then she is likely already dead. Few who enter there ever return." He paced back and forth around the room nervously. "But why? Why would this group take her? Was it something our beloved mother did?”

“No…it was because of me,” Jasper admitted reluctantly.

Rā’imu’s eyes hardened. “This is your fault?” He demanded.

To Jasper’s shock, Nēs̆u spoke up in his defense. “No, if it is was anyone’s fault, it is the gods. Kas̆dael, Yas̆gah, the Anzuzu, even the Mwyranni have taken an interest in Lord Yas̆peh. And while I fail to see what’s so interesting about him, Tsia knew and chose to stay close to him. Blame the gods if you wish to blame anyone.”

The Djinn’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. “They say the men of the south are more cynical than most, but I didn’t know it was anything more than slander.”

The warrior shrugged. “Our people bore the brunt of all three Fey wars and had barely begun to rebuild when the Stoneflesh invaded. There’s no denying the power of the gods, but they’ve done precious little to help us. That's why I worship Lady Vāya. There's no pretense there - she gives with one hand and takes with the other.”

Rā’imu pursed his lips. “I’d suggest you not say that too loudly around these parts. Lady Selene is quite beloved amongst our kind.” His gaze darted back to Jasper. “Is that why you came then? To redeem the favor our elders promised you? Do you really intend to enter Naḫas̆s̆innu?”

He nodded. “I was hoping they could provide help, any help at all really, in rescuing Tsia.”

The Moon-kissed spun on his heels and hastened over to one of his guards. A brief conversation ensued and then the guard took off into the dark and snowy night.

“I’ve sent word to my elders,” Rā’imu explained. “But they will not make any decision tonight, so you might as well stay with me. Have you eaten?”

The three shook their heads, and the man led them deeper into the hall. The construction evident from outside was also visible in the interior; large portions of the inner walls had been ripped out altogether, making a much roomier space, while along the perimeter intricate new murals were being assembled.

“What’s with all the construction,” Jasper asked as they followed the Djinn.

“For my part in procuring Damqa’s lyre, the elders decided to overlook my failures as a warrior. They reassigned my father’s servants to the estate and even arranged a bride for me, an alliance with a daughter of one of the elders from the House of the Seventh Daughter.” The man waved his hand toward the rubble around them. “Hence all the construction. Apparently, the house that was perfectly good for me wasn’t fitting for her.”

There was a slightly bitter undertone to his words that Jasper understood all too well. His older brother Tyler had tormented him growing up, constantly picking on him, relentlessly criticizing every little thing he did, and above all, blaming him for every little thing that went wrong in their family. Jasper had learned to weather it; with their mother often gone, there’d been no one to keep Tyler in check, and protesting had only made it worse. He learned to keep his head down and take his opportunities when they came.

But that had all changed after Jenny’s death. Perhaps Tyler had been shaken up by the tragedy more than he was willing to admit, or perhaps, like many bullies, he’d simply grown out of the behavior. In any case, Tyler had eventually managed to become a halfway decent human being. It hadn’t come quickly, but as the years passed Jasper and Tyler had managed to establish something of a relationship: never truly close, but cordial, maybe even caring. The two adorable children Tyler had eventually had had certainly done their part to mend the relationship as well. But just because things had improved between them didn’t mean the past had been rewritten. With some wounds, the best you can hope for is a scar.

Rā’imu ended his explanation with a forced laugh and a smile that did not reach his eyes. Both vanished quickly though, replaced by genuine worry. “This cult…what do they even want with Tsia?” He asked the words almost hesitantly, afraid of what he would hear.

Jasper sighed. “Honestly, I’m not sure. In the vision the Spectral Spider showed me, it seems like she and another friend of ours are about to be sacrificed and I’m being asked to choose, but everything else is unclear. Am I being asked to choose one to save? Or does the cult want me to kill one of them? Why am I being given a choice at all? And then there’s another player, I guess, a woman named Barbartu. She’s part of the cult, but also seems to be working against it, and has tried to drag me into her plans. I don't have the foggiest idea what her goals are, though.”

He shook his head in frustration. "I’m probably playing right into the cultists' game, but I can’t just leave my friends to die, you know?”

Their conversation lulled as Rā’imu led them into the dining hall. The normally glossy black, lacquered floor and pillars were covered in a thin layer of dust from the construction, and one side of the room was missing a wall altogether, but the table was clean and already laden with food, although some of the dishes appeared to have been partially eaten.

A gorgeous woman with long black hair that was tucked behind her slightly pointed ears, and a head bereft, or as Jasper preferred to think of it, not spoiled by any horns or antlers sat at the far end of the table. A slight pout graced her lips as she toyed with the food on her plate, but she glanced up as their footsteps echoed down the hall, revealing big, doe-like eyes as she stood up to greet them.

“Rā’imu, my love, you’ve returned.” Her voice was low and breathy, reminding Jasper of the sultry femme fatales in noir films from the 40s whose voices had been tempered by a steady diet of cigarettes and alcohol, but, despite her words, there was little affection in her voice. Her eyes slid languidly off her betrothed and fixed on the newcomers. “And who are your guests?”