Aeroae always had a strange feeling to it, of all the cities in Skysea it always felt the most different. Carrion knew it wasn’t because, once upon a time, he was a foreigner to these lands. He had traveled the whole breadth of the country, from the northern fringes of Landfall to the southernmost cliffs of Betel. Not one town or city in all his travels felt like Aeroae.

He walked down the streets at night, a cloak covering his features to avoid drawing the attention of those who might see him in the dim moonlight. Though he could do nothing for his snout, that distended past the edge when viewed in profile. He avoided people's gazes when he could help it, for similar reasons as any of his kin. The men of Legoria had a habit of looking at narrow eyes and fur covered skin and believing they see a beast before thinking creature. It wasn’t hard to do so, a wave of his clawed hand and his face would fade into a reassuring haze not dissimilar to any other in a crowd passed by.

One of the things that made Aeroae different from any other place he knew was how slow everything was. Despite being the ad hoc capital of Betel, it had the same feeling as a small town. Pick two people at any street corner, and they were likely to know each other. It made traveling through the city’s streets and alleys unmolested hard. A cloaked figure was much more likely to draw the attention of any random passerby.

His goal for the night was to follow up on a lead he heard from a sympathetic Magister about some odd activity in the bars of Betel island wide.

It started at a little corner place in Sebosa. One night, the owner had a young woman appear and ask if he needed any help with the bar that night. He said yes because more help was always nice, and he had been doing well enough to pay her, if only it came to that.

The young woman took to the job like a whirlwind given form, patrons could scarcely finish their drink before it was topped off, plates never emptied before they were finished, even the games and arguments that happened were never met without a laugh or a good answer from this mysterious barmaid. Just as the night started to wrap up, and the final call was had, she would be gone. No payment received or asked for. She would just disappear into the night.

This story repeated, with words and events slightly shuffled throughout the island. Enough times that this mysterious woman had earned the nickname “Saint Brisa” for the legend of the woman who brought the gift of alcohol to Legoria in ancient times.

It wasn’t all good times, however, as there were a handful of stories that ended less than peacefully. A bar in Harrow’s Hill was utterly destroyed and, surprisingly, seemed to have been subsumed into the ground as if a sinkhole developed in the bedrock ground. Another corner store that moonlighted in moonshine near Everfou was burnt to the ground with lavender flames. He had even personally witnessed the cinders being that same lavender color when he visited himself.

This meant that whoever this was, they needed to be stopped. Or at the very least consulted with as to their intentions. Something Carrion learned as an Arch Mage is that things like this rarely happened for no reason.

One of the difficulties of being a beastman like himself was that it was hard to gather information. Even if you could get lucky and convince someone to look past the carnivorous teeth and piercing animalistic eyes, they often had a hard time opening up and revealing sensitive information. This wasn’t for any malicious reason most of the time, it was more due to fear. After all, it was his people that laid waste to their lands not more than 50 years before. He had no issue imagining it was hard to share secrets with someone who looked like the same creature that ate the face of their grandfather.

It was with this in mind that he looked around carefully for a few minutes when he reached the door of the bar he meant to case. A small little hole in the wall, a few turns off the main street through town. Considering the foot traffic Aeroae got even on a quiet night, you’d be surprised how few people managed to find their way in.

He entered, and the first thing he saw was the last thing he ever wanted to see.

A young woman, a barmaid’s uniform and dancer’s shoes. Short brown hair and a pearlescent earring on her right ear. She danced back and forth between each table as if the floor itself was guiding her to and fro. She noticed him in an instant and called him inside. As he walked, she did a masterful maneuver to block his face from the other patrons until he reached a booth and sat down.

What surprised him more than anything wasn’t her youthful grace, or energetic work, it was her eyes. He had known this girl for a great many years, and fought with her countless times. But one thing that never changed was the glassy look in her eye. The Men of Legoria had different eyes than the beastmen, but there was a shared trait of fire in them, symbolic of the life that burned within. This wasn’t literal of course, simply a metaphor, but any person with half a brain could tell when someone was dead in the eyes, if not the heart.

Rapture was one.

This girl, though she looked like Rapture, was not the same. There was a life and fire in her eyes that he was afraid it might burn a whole through him if he stared too long. It seemed this effect extended to all she spoke to at the bar because even the drunkest of patrons remained polite and composed despite their state.

This continued for several hours. She never once asked him if he wanted anything, and with his constitution that was probably for the best, but she did come by every once in a while and… Well, it was unclear what she did. She would stop her graceful routine on the floor and stand with her back to him for a few moments. She didn’t say anything, nor did she look at him. She just stood there. This when on all throughout the night, until finally once the moon was low on the skyline and the earliest peaks of the sunlight tiptoed over the horizon did the owner's final call. Everyone sorted out eventually, and after a brief conversation, it seemed the girl had convinced the owner she would lock up tonight.

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She spent a few more minutes cleaning and clearing, righting chairs, washing tables, sweeping, moping, and polishing. Then she stood behind the bar for a moment, sighed deeply, then locked eyes with Carrion.

The girl walked over and sat down in the seat opposite to him.

“So, what brings you to town today?” She asks. Her voice was unusually chipper. There was no semblance of any emotion short of joy and contentment. She seemed at face value to be genuinely interested in his answer.

“Investigating a lead I received. Also keeping an eye out for suspicious individuals.” Carrion said.

“How mysterious! You must have turned up a few interesting things, care to tell me?” She asked. Carrion was starting to have faint doubts that he was even talking to the unhinged woman he was so used to.

“I’m afraid not, most of it is classified.” He said, just on the very slight chance that he had made a profound miscall on her identity.

“That’s a shame, I was hoping to find someone interesting myself.” The girl said, his patience finally failed him, and he did the one thing he was loathed to do on his own volition.

“Rapture…” He said.

The girl in front of him looked at him innocently for a moment, but for the briefest of moments he saw her eyes flicker. The life in them dying for a moment, only to reignite. But that fire too faded, as did the room around it.

The walls surrounding them were replaced with broken and rotting wood, pocked with holes and decay. The windows that held back the cold air were broken, and their remains laid on the floor, even the air itself changed from the warm and welcome feel with a tinge of sweet nectar on the breeze to a cold and foreboding sickness that only an abandoned building could muster.

“Yes, dear brother?” Rapture said.

Her life was gone, her glassy eyes polished enough to reflect the light. He was a beastman and even this was far beyond anything he knew in his people, even those born without distinct pupils. He might have compared them to demon's eyes if he hadn’t known better than to disparage the mental image he held of demons by comparing them to the lifeless saucers of the woman in front of her.

There wasn’t even a suggestion of unnaturalness to them, the whites of her eyes were the same, and the objectively present brown cornea were visible, but looking into them seemed to eat away at the very soul.

“What are you doing in Skysea, this isn’t your place, and you never asked permission to be here.” Carrion asked.

“Oh? But I’m just reliving some old memories. Is it so wrong to let a poor girl reminisce?” Rapture said.

“Don’t play games with me, you’ve already caused enough trouble on betel, I won’t hesitate to deal with you if I need to.” Carrion said. It was an empty threat, he knew that starting a conflict right now might lead to the destruction of the city. But it was something he had to say regardless.

“You always fight so hard for these people. They call you a monster, but you do your best for them. Doesn’t it get tiring?” She asked. From her tone, she didn’t sound very interested, more just teasing him and his work.

“Not everyone can get away with doing whatever they want. Now get to explaining.”

“Fine… You were always like this, I suppose. I have been, heh, I’ve been looking for someone. I’m sure you’ve heard of her. White.”

“As have all the Arch Mages, that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Oh, because of that silly rule you all made a few years ago. Something about being safer if the Arch Mages stayed out of each other’s way? I don’t really care, and I know you were in Leltial the other day, so don’t high road me.”

He hadn’t given her enough credit, to know something like that meant either his information network was lacking, or hers was better than he expected.

“Whatever you say, I don’t have the stomach for it tonight.”

“I am curious, are you looking into White’s whereabouts right now? Do you have any idea where she might be?”

Carrion had heard things in the past, being the object of her affections was a long and dangerous thing. More often than not, it was a lethal one, too.

“No, actually, I was looking into the reports of this “Saint Brisa” character that has been making noise in Skysea over the last few days. Tell me, find yourself in Harrow’s Hill lately?” Carrion asked. Rapture smiled and laughed with dead eyes on hearing the name.

“I was thinking about old times around there and one man got a little too handsy. It was self-defense, though, I swear! He probably got right back up after I left.” Rapture said. The bar in Harrow’s hill was utterly destroyed, and they were still picking pieces of man and building out of the stone.

Carrion lost his patience completely.

“I need you to tell me, what are your intentions with Arch Mage White?” Carrion said.

“I am just trying to connect with my little sister. Is that so wrong?” She asked. For the briefest of moments, he could almost see a flicker of life in her eye again. He barely wished to consider the idea, but he thought for a moment she might be serious.

“Don’t cause any trouble in my territory, or there will be hell to pay.” Carrion threatened.

“Older brothers always care too much.” Rapture said.

Carrion stood up, he knew he wasn’t being taken seriously, so he didn’t want to waste his breath. This was a situation that needed to be reported as soon as possible.

When he walked out the door, he could hear the words “Bye bye!” uttered sweetly from Rapture’s mouth. It was almost sickening how easily she could produce such innocent sounding noises.

He walked down the street, trying to rationalize in his head what he should do.

This was another thing about Aeroae, nothing was ever as it seemed. Just as soon as you think you have it all figured out. It all comes tumbling down.