“Is that another one? It’s rare to have two guests at once. I recognize your voice, Kirtridge, who did you bring with you?” The voice sounded from the closed door to the side of the rough-hewn rock. It was that of an old woman, with a baritone undertone which sent shivers down Bloumen’s spine. Instinctively, Bloumen moved her hand to the hood about her head, to cover her crown.

“Don’t bother with that, Silfae don’t put any weight into those things.” Kirtridge opened the door, and she could see rich wood paneling through the doorway, lit by candlelight. “Elder Liwa, it’s the Aizelwhiches’ child.”

“Have her come in then, and pull up the ladder, I can’t have a Crawling One creep in.”

“They’re a little tiny monster, run about on all fours and eat children.” Kirtridge explained. While Bloumen’s imagination mulled over that statement, he walked over to the ladder at the edge of the cave. Bloumen made her way to the door and opened it up.

The next room was spacious and clean. Sunlight trickled in from small windows at the top of the walls. Candles lit the rest of the space, making it feel warm and comfortable. There was a table covered with hunting equipment in one corner, and a chair in the other. On that chair sat a creature with long silky white hair. Its face was segmented and hardened, like a beetle’s. It had six arms, two like a spider’s legs, and a third set that resembled human arms. It wore a set of lavender robes, lined with white fur.

Bloumen was more surprised by the Silfae then she had imagined. She had read about them in her parent’s library, but she found herself staring at her. The Silfae unfolded herself from her chair and walked over.

Bloumen took a step back, still trying to wrap her head around it.

“Well. You really don’t look like your parents.” The Silfae knelt and looked at Bloumen with her deep violet eyes. “I’m Elder Liwa.”

“Ah-” Bloumen managed. “How are you?”

“At least the kid is polite.” Kirtridge walked in from behind Bloumen. “Liwa, she’s tired, fuck. I’m tired. How about we save the meet and greet you all do with every damn newcomer until she doesn’t look like death.”

Bloumen hadn’t paid any thought to it, but now that she looked at herself, her fine dress was torn and dirty. Sticks and dirt caked her knees, and a fine layer of red ash covered her dress. A few days ago, she would have been horrified at her appearance. She shrugged. “I feel fine Kirtridge. Why don’t you go sleep, and I can meet everyone?”

“You sound like you need it. You are even more rude than usual.” Liwa quipped.

Kirtridge stroked his beard. “Fine with me. I guess this kid only gets tired when she feels like it. Where are your guest rooms?”

“There are none, the eggs hatched last month, and we have brood taking them up. You can use the fur stockroom, there’s a bed in storage there.” Liwa answered.

“Good enough. Keep this kid out of mischief.” With that, Kirtridge turned, and left the room. Bloumen watched him leave and felt a strange bloom of loneliness as he did.

Elder Liwa walked over to her. “Goodness, he’s rough. I hope he wasn’t too unkind to you on your way?”

“That’s how he is. I wouldn’t want him changing suddenly, like everything else has.”

“I see. I’ll take you to the main hall then, we can get you something to eat, and you can meet Kaine. I understand you’re heading to the Southern Fools near Welfai?” Liwa led her down a hall, and then descended a flight of stairs.

“Something like that.”

“Well, a band of bandits like them isn’t the worst idea your parents could have had. I know you humans are wary of the crowns you wear. For good reason I suppose.” Liwa stopped at the foot of the stairs and pushed open a heavy pine doorway. “Welcome to the main hall. Eat all you like, make yourself at home. Normally we charge our guests, but that’s already been arranged.”

A large hall lay before her, six great tables fit comfortably in its space. An arched doorway led into a kitchen, and a double door lay off to the side. The walls paneled with plaster and painted with vibrant murals. Windows cut into the rock looked out over the forest of the deep. A few Silfae children stood by the windows, watching the blood red plumes of smoke billow from the ridgeline. Soft music played, from a tall Silfae with a lyre.

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There was food about him, and there was a group of hunters listening to him play with sleepy smiles. Bloumen felt herself relax when she stepped into the room, the music of the lyre pulling her in.

The Silfae paused his playing. He had a thick golden beard, and rough features. Curled golden hair was upon his head, and he wore a great fur cloak about his shoulders. “Liwa, who’s this?”

“She’s a new guest Kaine, I’ll let her introduce herself.”

“Bloumen, of the Aizelwhiches’ merchant company.” Bloumen said. Her parents taught her that greeting many times, and it came to her naturally.

“Aizelwhiches? Ah, you’re the baby they dragged here ten years ago. It’s been a while.” He looked at the windows. “I guess that they finally ran into trouble then. Why don’t you take head to the kitchen? There’s soup boiling at the stove, it looks like you’ve had a rough journey, and you need something to eat.”

Bloumen nodded enthusiastically. She made her way to the kitchen, and after a bit of searching for utensils, poured herself a bowl of soup. Then she made her way back to the table and began to eat. Liwa had left the room, and so had the children from earlier, leaving Kaede with two remaining hunters.

Kaede hummed a gentle tune as he played his lyre. She closed her eyes, letting the smell of the soup, the music of the lyre, and the warm sunlight flow over her. It felt like home. Her eyes watered, as she felt her body relax, and she enjoyed the hearty beef stew. A boiling mess of emotion pushed up at her chest and made it hard to eat. She kept them at bay, as best as she could. She didn’t want to cry right now.

A hunter sat down by her. She had a silky black hair, the strange tough skin of the other Silfae, and wore a grey cloak. She spoke with a quiet, soft tone; “Are you alright? You look like you’re in rough shape.”

Bloumen took a second to try to sum up how she was; “I’m a little sore, and I want to crawl into a corner and cry for an hour.”

The hunter laughed, and then stopped when Bloumen frowned at her “Oh! I’m sorry. Do you need a moment alone?”

Bloumen shook her head. She wanted to be alone with her own thoughts even less right now. “I would like to play for a little while. Do you have an instrument?”

“Play a song?”

She nodded. “A flute, or a piano if you have one.”

Really, she wanted something to take her mind from where she was.

Kaede looked up from his lyre. “Murde, there’s a flute in the storeroom down the hall, where we keep the bows.”

Murde smiled at her and went to get it.

“Do you play often?” Kaede asked.

“I do, my mother said I should learn some hobbies, since I was stuck in our home all day.” The lump in Bloumen’s throat returned. To avoid any more talk, she looked out of the window.

The smoke blossomed and rolled from the border of the deep forest, made hazy with distance. It was a surreal scene, barely visible through the tangling stone branches and the islands they supported.

“You’ve really started in a poetic way.” The familiar voice echoed through her head, along with the headache that followed. “When I first consumed a host, I lit the forest of fire. If you are already starting to follow this path so soon, you’ll make a wonderful candidate.”

Can I finish my soup? Bloumen really had no interest in the cryptic voice echoing in her head. Especially not now. All that you do is make me miserable.

“Well, that’s the point of a demon. Keep following my footsteps, and when you receive your glory, it shall be my most glorious return.”

Bloumen tried to think of some comeback to this. Luckily, Murde returned with the flute before she could think of a cutting reply.

“Here you are.” She handed it to Bloumen.

“Thank you.” Bloumen looked over the instrument. It was similar enough to her own back at the mansion, made of wood rather than copper. She hoped it wouldn’t change much. The hunters had stopped talking among themselves. They were watching her now, with interest playing in their eyes.

She lifted it to her lips, paused as she tried to remember a melody, and began to play.

It was a simple tune, one which she had learned ages ago. Even so, she found herself wrapped up in it, focused only on the sound and the melody. Bloumen played for a while, closing her eyes and letting herself slip into her tune.

The last few notes of Bloumen’s melody faded. With those notes, the little mental bubble she had formed about herself faded. When she opened her eyes, she found the crowd about her had grown considerably.

Elder Liwa sat upon a chair nearby, sitting with four little children. Three more Silfae were eating food nearby and looked at her curiously. Kaede nodded appreciatively from his own seat.

“Well done!” Kaede exclaimed. “Do you play often?”

Bloumen blinked at his sudden praise. “Well, there isn’t much to do when I’m stuck inside. I’ve played since I was five, so about eight years now.”

Liwa nodded at this. “Keep going, you’ve got some good talent. I hope that the Southern Fools will have something for you to play.”

“Hey Liwa, if they’re headed to Welfai, should I guide them? We’ve done all our autumn hunting, and I’ve guided the Aizelwhiches on their route before.”

Liwa shrugged. “Kirtridge should know the way, apparently they marked it out a few years ago. From what you’ve told me, its infested with Plain Serpents, it should be no trouble for Kirtridge. Feel free to give them some supplies; her parents have been quite generous with us after all.”

“Sure.” Kaede stood up. “Bloumen, you have a long day ahead of you, why don’t you get some rest? We can set aside a room for you in the lower levels.”

She didn’t really feel that tired, but the concept of the long trip ahead was nerve wracking enough for her to agree.

“Anwa, can you help our guest here to the little reading room on the fifth level? That should suit her nicely. Stop by the stockroom as well.”

A silfae, who seemed to be about Bloumen’s age, agreed. He stood up and extended a hand to her. “Come on, let’s go! I want to hear Liwa’s story.”

“A story?” Bloumen looked between him and Liwa, and Liwa shrugged.

“I suppose it can’t hurt. Anwa, it looks like the reading room can wait.”