The smoke storm raged only centimetres from Iris’s face, just beyond the paper-thin window. It was not physically violent, yet Elliot was well aware of what would happen to her and the room if someone were to release that single barrier. They were in a pocket of normalcy, and outside was a slow, patient form of chaos.

Evalyn sat across from her, a small table in between them that he had shifted towards the glass window. The stove still worked, so tea could still be brewed. Sleeping in such a climate was a tall task, so they had all chosen instead to read the patterns in the smoke, if there were any to find. He just did so from the edge of the bed.

It shifted like a live thing against the glass. He had seen it at work before. The smoke and fire that lived and ate.

“Liam Colte has worked closely with Elvera for years now. He’s from Aerilia, Excala’s sister city up north. One of their warriors.”

“Warrior? They still call soldiers that?” Iris asked, exercising her limited knowledge of the two terms.

“A soldier is a bit different to a warrior. For one, it’s a profession, for the other, it’s the very purpose of their life,” she said with confidence, only to chuckle lightly.

“Well, money is still a big proponent for him.”

“He’s like you then. Does he have a family to take care of too?”

“Family?” Evalyn repeated, lingering on the word for a moment. “No, I don’t think he does. I think that’s where we differ.”

'Take care of', a subtle, yet meaningful phrase. It fit his wife perfectly.

“Do you know him?”

A small voice brought his attention from the grey to the purple.

“Hm? Yeah, of course. It’s kind of hard to miss him.”

“I can see that,” Evalyn smiled, “he makes an impact.”

He chuckled watching Iris’s confusion grow, but he could not promise her that her questions would be answered tonight. She would have to meet the man himself.

“Evalyn,” he called.

“Yeah?”

“Are you going to let him know you’re here?”

She thought on it for much too long. The crowd his wife worked around were a desensitised bunch, even for combat personnel. Nothing fazed the likes of Wizards and Witches, not even all-encompassing magical smoke storms.

“I was going to wait on it, but I think any other Wizard or Witch on the same assignment as us is letting him know, at least the ones that know him.”

She said this, still sipping on her tea. He watched her, egging her to go on with her sentence.

“Do you want to see him?” she asked.

“It’s only one night.”

“Are you sure?”

“If it’s important. Plus, he might not even come here.”

She looked at Elliot, as though the thought of him transforming into a snail would be more believable.

“Alright.”

She finally hauled herself out of the seat, walking across the length of the room.

“The smoke is Aether infused, so the owner is probably getting a general buzz right now, scrambling her senses. Even if she feels a little more, I don’t think she’ll bat an eye,” she explained as the tattoos began to glow, the warmth running up the length of her arm until it reached her cheek. She held herself in an excruciatingly trained pose, as the golden light shaped itself from her hand. The arch gained shape, and as her tattoos grew even brighter, and a high hum began to electrify the air, the shape gained elasticity. It bent to the touch of her finger, and a tugging of the string.

A recurve bow that could be as powerful as she wanted stretched from her right palm, and a rod of golden light in the left.

“Iris, when I tell you to open that window, open it for me and then shut it again immediately. Got that?”

Iris nodded profusely. Whether it was the excitement or the Aether influx, Elliot wasn’t quite sure. She held onto the windowsill as Evalyn breathed slowly, and meaningfully.

“Act II. Character.”

With the whisper, barely audible to even Elliot, she raised the rod to the bow and tugged the string with her entire body. The material exhibited its elasticity, proving it was no longer simply a shape of Evalyn's making.

“Act III. Subtext.”

The golden arrow’s aura began to shift, as the magic exuding into it changed with it.

“Now, Iris!”

Iris yanked the door open, wide enough for smoke to start pouring in, yet in the next moment, it was forced back out to where it came from. The bullet pierced the outer boundary of the black thing and tore a perfect cylinder through it, extending for god knew how long. Iris hurriedly shut the window again in time for a low rumble to reach the window’s glass.

Through the disturbed blackness that the arrow had created, they could see shimmering light. First sparks, then those sparks grew grander until a golden thunderstorm pierced its light through the layers upon layers of oppressive smoke.

It began to move, the light swimming through the smoke sea as if it were its home. Elliot thought of the few times he had booked an underwater room on a cruise ship, and would watch beyond the pothole of a window, swearing he had seen something move in the mass of blue.

The city-size light slowly faded, like synapses in a dying brain, all controlled by the woman sipping tea in their small apartment.

Iris’s hero. His warrior. Their protector.

The words were sourer than he cared to admit.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

As they returned to their temporary definition of normalcy, the city began to return to its version. The black veil that must have done the stars such a favour by blocking out the city’s light, gave up its place. The city returned, and inch by inch were the skyscrapers handed back. The temporary hold was lifted, and the city’s bustle returned to what it was all but half an hour ago.

“Why was that so well timed with your signal?” Iris asked, sipping on her sweet tea. Evalyn looked at Elliot, and Elliot sighed.

“Well, I asked for it, didn’t I?” he said.

He looked over at the balcony, and in the cool night air Evalyn had been standing in before the storm, was a man in a trench coat. From his neck down, his clothes were ash grey, and his woollen gloves suited a chimney sweeper more than it ever would his hands.

The man did not bother to look over, the smoke wafting from his pipe passing by his slowly ageing face and thinning, grey hair.

Even if it had always been grey, Colte was just another person Elliot had seen…change.

What did people like Evalyn, and possibly even Iris mean for him? What was it like being someone who could never be as…worthy.

Colte knocked on the glass door impatiently. Once, twice, three times, until it became downright incessant. His impatience eventually overcame either of their reluctance to let him in, so Elliot got up and took charge.

“What’s Mr Urn doing here so late at night? I thought bedtime for you was eight thirty.”

“Not looking for your sorry ass. Where’s Evalyn?”

“She’s inside.”

“Jolly.”

“Why are you here?”

Elliot did not break his stare, nor did Colte. Their eyes met, and the smell from Colte’s clothes made Elliot’s eyes water, as if he was staring directly into a fireplace.

“It’s important. Someone might know who Evalyn is.”

Elliot’s body stiffened.

“You’re serious?” he said, trying to ignore the latent smell of burnt wood and flesh.

“When am I not?”

Elliot stepped aside, letting Colte through the doors.

“No smoking, and take your shoes off,” Elliot tatted. Colte looked to Evalyn for support but found none in her. He grumbled and complied, sliding out of his shoes, and thumbing his pipe until the smoke stopped.

“Evalyn,” Colte said, nodding at her.

“How’s life, Liam?”

The two stared at each other, Evalyn's lips hiding a thin layer of malicious plaque, and Liam’s stare growing uncomfortable. His eyes crept onto Iris.

“Who’s she?”

“Iris. My name is Iris.”

“…what are you doing here?”

“I’m on a mission. With Evalyn.”

Liam’s now cold stare turned back to Evalyn, a deathly chill that almost perfectly juxtaposed his motif. She stared back, unapologetic.

“I’ll explain to you later. I promise. Why were you looking for me?”

Colte slowly shook his head, and Elliot took a seat on the bed. All the seats were taken, as though the ash man was facing a trial.

“I got a request from someone. I didn’t get their affiliation or even their name. They told me that you’d be in the city a week from then, and that was a week ago.”

This finally piqued Evalyn’s concern, and she opted for a brief truce in hostilities.

“Me specifically?”

“Yes. Evalyn Hardridge. That was the contract.”

“…shit.”

Evalyn stood and began to pace, back and forth.

“You think the client peeked Evalyn’s identity himself?” Elliot asked.

“I don’t know. He was a Beak, but I can’t be certain he’s been in Geverde recently.”

“How the fuck does he know I’m here even before I do?”

“The man who shot me.”

The three stopped, with varying reactions.

“Jamie…” Evalyn whispered.

“Iris, you still remember that?” Elliot asked.

“She got fucking what?!” Colte cried.

The man snapped, and both Evalyn and Elliot scrambled to calm him down.

“She’s a Witch, her powers saved her! She’s fine!” Evalyn tried to say.

“You found a Witch child and let her keep her powers?! Let her roam free and get fucking shot?!”

“The fuck was I supposed to do?! Huh?” Evalyn spat. “God knows what would’ve happened if I had let her be! This is the only way!”

“The hell it is the only way! What the fuck are you doing bringing a child into our world?!”

“Hey, hey, hey. Look. I know we’re all excited to see each other again, but let’s cool off.”

Elliot came in between the two, narrowly preventing a brawl that could’ve taken him and Iris along with half the city with it. The two steadied themselves, and their boiling magic subsided.

“Elliot, I’m going to need to talk to you,” Colte muttered, stepping away and conceding his position. Evalyn did the same, but not as quickly as Elliot would have liked.

“Iris, could you take Evalyn outside?”

“Sure,” the little girl said, cautiously getting off her chair, and grabbing her guardian by the sleeve. She dragged Evalyn out and closed the balcony door behind her. Elliot looked back at his senior.

“She was the one asking me if I wanted to see you.”

“Really now?”

“Yes.”

The two looped around the elephant in the room, or perhaps the sitting on the other side of the balcony window.

“Do you want to start?” Elliot asked. “Or should I?”

“Please, go ahead,” Colte said, easing himself into one of the chairs.

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Who she is.”

Elliot scratched his neck and slid into the opposite seat.

“That’s the issue.”

Colte groaned and hung his head.

“You have nothing on her?”

“Not nothing. The only concrete evidence we have of who she was, is her biology.”

“What?”

“She’s Spirit. Her body is well and truly made to take in Aether, but it replicates the human body so well that she practically is one. She feels hunger and thirst.”

“Where’d you find her?”

“In Sidos. Evalyn came across her running around stealing from local stores. She couldn’t speak until recently, and it’s only been a month.”

“You think she lost her memory?”

“I don’t know, really. It’s too early to jump to conclusions.”

“What do you think, then?”

“What do I think?”

Elliot’s eyebrows furrowed, as he rested his weight on the table. He glanced outside his window, vision doubling on the sparkling skyline.

“I don’t think it matters. Who she is, is up to her.”

Colte did the same, glancing out of the window, unsure how to continue without lighting a fire under the issue. So he did.

“We both know that isn’t true…”

They sat in silence, as the words simmered between them.

“You’re going to have to make sure she finds herself one way or another, Elliot.”

“I think it’d be more persuasive coming from Evalyn-”

“It has to be you. Most kids her age at least know what they want to be when they grow up, let alone people who shoulder power like us. The fact that the Queen hasn’t killed her is probably a matter of national interest, not compassion.”

“I know, but I can’t help but think it can’t be me. I’m not that type of person, Evalyn is.”

“It’s because you’re that type of person, Elliot. Evalyn is too soft to be harsh when she needs to. She deserves a family, but she’s too protective. You’re kind, so use that kindness.”

Their lips ceased to move, and they sat together for the first time in a while.

"You still have faith in me, huh?"

"I never lost it in either of you. I just couldn't agree, that's all."

It was a similar line of conversation. Elliot had once mentioned it before. Someone was upset if Iris did not leave for a mission, and now this. She found it frustrating when people did not talk clearly, and instead tip-toed around things that they just ought to say outright.

If it was about her, then she should know. It was the least they could do when so much was hidden away already. She had no room to shelve unfinished pieces of herself.

She turned to Evalyn, sitting idly on the floor next to her. She had calmed down, but she still held back her voice.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She chuckled, ruffling Iris’s hair.

“Don’t you start sounding like a therapist,” she said, putting a heavy arm around Iris. She seemed to enjoy the small warmth in the cloudless, cool air.

“He was my mentor for the first few years after I became a Witch. Like you and me, I went with him all across the world, taking jobs.”

“Detective work?”

“…yeah. Detective work.”

“He’s a detective too, then.”

“Something like that…”

“Why don’t you talk anymore?”

Evalyn shifted her legs closer to her body, curling up next to Iris.

“He has a different idea of what it means to be infused with Aether. I just couldn’t live by that, and he insisted that I should. But in the end, I refused. It just wasn’t me.”

“You could tell him that?”

“Tell him what?”

“Tell him who you are?”

Evalyn watched her, and Iris felt her face being deeply interrogated, as though every pore was undergoing inspection. A hand reached out to her cheek and stroked it gently.

“Yeah. I guess I could.”

The balcony door rolled open, and Elliot stepped out, jittering once his skin exited the warmth of the room.

“Sorry, I made you wait outside.”

“That’s alright,” Evalyn said, “how’d it go?”

“He said that he’ll tell his client that he wants to meet, and then that’ll be the chance for you to get him.”

“That sounds solid,” Evalyn admitted.

“But he said he’d only let you in exchange for something.”

“What’s that?”

“One night of training with Iris. Mind Palace.”