Mother Harlot was perched like a gargoyle over Damocles, sitting atop the imperial palace, legs dangling over the edge, her chin resting in the palms of her hands. She looked out over the city and beyond the horizon towards the west where William, she knew, had just discovered part of the truth about the oleum. ‘Right on schedule’, she knew that Mr. Wink or the Dandy Man would have said. She loathed the both of them. This whole charade. She just wanted it all to be over already, but she was cursed to wait, wait, wait…

Wait for the Dandy Man to give her more information that she could act on.

It was a pleasant day in Damocles. Sunny, not a cloud in the sky for several miles. Just playful bundles of aerated water floating lazily across the upper part of the horizon. How she envied the clouds. Listless. Purposeless. Only existing to deposit water and collect it all over again in an endless cycle. Mindless. Without memory. She let out a dispirited sigh. Not one person in all the world below her on this side of the globe was aware of how precariously perched on the edge of oblivion they all were. All those lucky people…

“Your punctuality is much appreciated, Mother,” the Dandy Man announced, standing some ten feet away from her on a protruding square ledge much like the one she was sitting on. His legs were held together, back straight, cane resting on his right shoulder. She hated out perfect his posture was.

“You’re late,” she told him. She knew he wasn’t. She simply took some small amount of joy in pestering him about that which he couldn’t control.

“I assure you I’m not,” the Dandy Man said, looking at his motionless watch to be sure. “My punctuality is even more legendary than yours.”

“Is it really being punctual if you’re early?” she questioned on the same breath as a sigh.

“Yes,” the Dandy Man responded frankly.

“No it’s not,” she sighed.

“Yes it is,” he retorted.

“What do you have for me?” she asked, already bored of the game she’d started.

“Mr. Wink wished for me to inform you that our young William is right on course for dealing with that loathsome ooze,” the Dandy Man said, looking out in the same direction as her.

“I know. I felt it,” she said icily, her arm of flesh reaching out to touch that which was made of carapace.

“He also asked that I ask you to continue your work with Emperor Mordred,” the tall man in white said. “It is, our master believes, so very crucial for things this time around.”

“Sure it is,” she said, letting go of her arm and spreading her legs slightly so that she could place her hand between them. “It’s always all so important…”

“Yes, it is,” the Dandy Man said flatly. “You know why it is we do what we do.”

“You know, I still don’t understand it at all,” she said to him. “How I could originate from here, this moment, and still be made to be so, so old… Aren’t I over there? At this very moment?” she asked, lazily raising her black arm and gesturing with a flick of her wrist towards the general direction of the south.

“No. I know that you do not think on these things very often, so allow me to clarify for you,” he said, lowering his cane from his shoulder and holding it across the front of his waist in both of his hands, rocking seemingly precariously back and forth from toe to heel.

“Ugh, please don’t…” she moaned, rolling her head back, working her fingers faster. The sensation was as much of a distraction as she could afford from him and she’d much rather focus on that than paradox.

“But I must! This is still your first go around, after all. It is understandable that you haven’t full grasped your place as of yet.”

“I don’t caaaaaaare about my place,” she whined, digging in. “I just want you to leave me alone. I’ll keep at Mordred. He’ll do as he’s told. The world will keep spinning.”

“Unless William should fail,” the Dandy Man pointed out with a tap of his cane.

“That’s more your problem than it is mine,” she sighed, rolling her head around.

“No. It is equally our problem, as we are not immune to the consequences any more than Mr. Wink is. You know that better than anyone, I should expect.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she hissed, withdrawing her hand from between her legs. The mood was even more ruined than it had been before he arrived. Now she was annoyed with him.

“Very well. Then I will leave you with but this simple command from our master: You are to continue telling him the story of victory. His brothers continue to prepare themselves. Neither one will make any serious attacks against him for the next six months, which is how long William will have to deal with our not-so-little problem, at which point, we will be on to the next act. Oh, isn’t it exciting? It’s all just around the corner!”

“Your optimism makes me want to vomit,” she belittled. He chuckled, checked his watch, and vanished once again. She assumed her initial position and looked out over the horizon once more. “This can’t end fast enough. I just want to go in my cave and sleep again…” she confessed to no one in particular. She knew Mr. Wink had probably heard her. She knew he didn’t care. She didn’t care that he didn’t care. She was, paradoxically, free in her constraints. All she had to lose were her chains, and so she didn’t care if he knew that she wanted as little to do with all of this as possible. Once had been enough. Once was all she ever wanted it to be.

***

Three days after the attack on Mirage the smoke had entirely vanished. Peace was far from being restored in totality, but the initial shock of the event had passed. Bodies were being collected, examined, and prepared for funerary rites all over the city. Only a handful would be denied this rites as the city guard, trusted with a limited amount of information provided to them by the Elder Council, confiscated those dead which were found to have been contaminated with the oily blood of an oleum. Condolences would be offered to the surviving families and incinerations would be carried out for the fallen. It was of little comfort to most when it was explained to them that their deceased loved ones were either too mutilated to be treated to the proper rituals or needed to be examined postmortem in order to understand more about the monsters that had attacked them.

Three days after the attack on Mirage Daniellex sat outside of the home of Joscur with a cup of water sat by his foot. He leaned back on a stool against the wall of the broken home and stared blankly at the street before him. He was contemplating what it was he should be doing right then and there for his friend and family, Joscur and Marisia. They were all he had left in much the same way that all they had left were each other.

He had already contemplated comparing the tragedy they were suffering through to the loss of his own parents, who had passed from the world several years before Marisia or Vamenco were even born. Joscur had been there for him then, a couple of young, hot blooded ningen, still trying to find their places in the world. They’d passed away the time and the hurt by drinking each other silly until enough time and enough alcohol had been passed between them that Daniellex could stand on his own two feet and carry on. His parents had passed in quick succession of each other, his father from cancer, his mother from grief. He’d thought then how that must have been the worst feeling in the world.

He was an only child, though. He didn’t have any children (that he knew of) and so had pretty quickly dismissed the idea of comparing the death of little Vamenco to the loss of his parents. They simply weren’t comparable, the horror of finding Vamo down in that tunnel, suffocated beneath his sister. Try as he might, Daniellex simply lacked the imagination to come up with any sort of meaningful way to use words to comfort his surrogate family.

So all that remained were actions. When Joscur had finished crying all of the tears his body had to give, it was he who had helped him to his feet and taken Marisia, Joscur, and Vamenco from that place, lead them out above the street, and taken them home. He had been the one to take Vamenco from his father’s arms and wrap him in a cloth. He’d prepared meals for the two of them. Made sure that they had anything they needed that he could get his hands on. It was a small mercy that their home had been spared the destruction that so many others had suffered and he took advantage of that mercy to the best of his ability.

Joscur and Marisia were inside. Marisia, most likely, in her room, where she had seldom left since being brought home. She had talked with her uncle already about the experience to the best of her abilities, had begun the process of grieving for her brother.

Horrifyingly, she had at first blamed herself for the outcome of this.

“He was in my arms,” she had told Daniellex. “I was holding him, and it was so tight under Bolara. There was so much pressure, he couldn’t breath! I should have…”

Daniellex had cut her off, hushed her, wanted to strike her for even daring to think she was to blame but knew that wouldn’t help. “You could do nothing more than you did,” he had told her, pulling her into his thick arms and holding her tightly as she cried. He’d offered as much comfort and wisdom as a fool such as himself could, and when the crying was over he’d made her some food and told her to call him if she needed anything. She had seemed better. Reassured by her Uncle Dani that she was, in no possible way, to blame for the death of her brother, even if she still felt that way in the moment.

Joscur was harder to reach. He hadn’t spoken a word since Daniellex had taken him from the tunnel. Had barely left his son’s side save to use a restroom. Had eaten his meals beside the covered body of his boy. Daniellex had tried to talk to him, but all he had managed to get out of his friend and brother for communication were simply nods and shakes of his head. Joscur was still down in the tunnel in the moment of discovery. He was sat now, Daniellex knew, in the sitting area, where the body of the small child lay covered from head to toe. His cheeks were constantly wet with tears as though any hydration he took in were immediately drained from his eyes.

So now Daniellex sat and watched as people walked by who were all experiencing similar grief as his surrogate family were or, if not, the same stress and anxiety as him in helping those who were, trying to think of what more he could do. The unfortunate truth was that he could think of nothing and was defiantly trying to think of something anyways because the alternative was admitting that all that was left for him was to continue the same and hope that time the only remedy, if it was a remedy at all.

He didn’t notice William walking towards him until he was only a few steps away, the bearded ningen turning to look at the black haired eidolon and smiling at him, rising up from his stool and holding out his arms to embrace him. William was wearing a newly acquired long sleeved green tunic that exposed much of his neck and shoulders and was stuffed into his tan pants which were tied tight around his waist by a pair of drawstrings woven into the waist of the pants themselves. He had on a new pair of black leather boots that went up to just below his knees and bunched the legs of the his pants near the top of them. His sword was being carried by the blade, housed in a new sheath that was of much sturdier quality than the minimalist one he’d had made upon his arrival in Mirage. His long black hair was pulled back and tied into a low hanging ponytail.

William gave a hug to Daniellex who unintentionally caused William pain by patting his back. “Ah! Easy, easy! My back is cut!” he said in Daniellex’s ear, who pulled back and placed his hands on William’s shoulders.

“Oh, I am sorry! I did not mean to!” Daniellex apologized.

“Nothing to forgive,” William said dismissively, waving his hand between them.

Daniellex nodded. “I am glad that you survived. We were not sure you had! Everything is so…”

“Yeah. I know,” William said, nodding.

“Marisia will be glad to see you,” Daniellex said, seeing an opportunity to raise her spirits! She had always been so thrilled when William came to visit, before…

“And Vamenco, too?” William asked.

The smile fell from Daniellex’s face. He realized that William didn’t know. Of course he didn’t know…

“William… Vamenco… he…”

“He is dead.”

Both of them turned to see Joscur standing in the door way. The bereaved father stared at William with bloodshot eyes. He stepped out fully into daylight for the first time in three days. Daniellex turned and stepped to him, only to be pushed aside suddenly by Joscur who then pushed William back two steps.

“My son is dead, and where were you, hm!?” he demanded to know.

“Don’t push me,” William said, holding a hand up.

Joscur ignored him. “If you had not left your apartment that night. If you had just stayed put and let me come fetch you, my son might still be alive!!”

Joscur went to push William again. William raised his arms up, stepped to the side, brushed away Joscur’s arm with both of his hands, one after the other, and pushed on his shoulder to avoid the shove, stepping back as Daniellex stepped forward and got between the two of them.

“Jos, no!” Daniellex begged and Joscur tried to force his way past his friend and brother, pointing an accusing finger to William. “You should have just stayed! This would not have happened like this if you had just stayed put!”

“I needed to know what this city was hiding! I didn’t kill your son!” William raised his voice. Joscur, reinvigorated by rage, tried even harder to get past Daniellex, grunting his impotent fury!

“Stop!” came the shrill cry of Marisia, standing where her father had stood a moment before. All three of them turned to look at the young blind girl, her father the last to settle his eyes on his only surviving child. She stood, chest rising and falling as she panted, having run down stairs, on the verge of tears again.

“Baba, please, stop,” she begged. Joscur was still for a moment as he stared at his daughter. He darted his gaze back to William, returned it to Marisia, threw Daniellex’s arms off of him, and took a step back. Silently he walked back inside and went to sit back down with Vamenco.

Marisia couldn’t help but sob, caught her breath, and walked towards William with her hand on the wall. He turned towards her and accepted her into his arms as she rested her head on his shoulder, holding her hand over her mouth. Daniellex walked over to the both of them and placed each of his hands on their backs.

“I am glad you are okay…” she said meekly. William and Daniellex said nothing. What was there to say?

“When is the funeral?” William asked after a time.

“Tomorrow,” Daniellex said softly, pulling his goddaughter into an embrace as she silently wept. “There is to be a grand procession for the dead. The uh… the first of a few, I suspect. Are you aware of our funerary customs?”

“Yes,” William said softly.

“You are welcome to come. Please, do not think badly of Jos. He has been through what no parent should endure.”

“I know,” William sighed.

Daniellex brought Marisia back inside and the three of them sat as a family around Vamenco. William slumped on the wall outside, sitting on the ground. Thinking. Thinking. Thinking.

***

Funerals in Mirage are a colorful affair. A city which defiantly stands against the monotone drabness of the Wastes has to be in as many aspects as possible. The metallic slivers and pulverized metals come together to form the technicolor streets, the clothes which people wear are dyed in spectacular colors which are imported from all over the Empire. The people of the oasis city are, in fact, proud of their colors and how vibrant they are. A culture of defiance in every shade of the rainbow. The funerals are especially colorful to combat the despair.

Outside of the barrier, scores of people were gathered. Friends, families, city guards, animunculi. Bloodlings stood with ningen, their heads covered in wide brimmed hats and eyes protected by deeply colored shades, shoulder to shoulder to mourn the loss of their dead. They stood together as a single crowd in front of a line of pyres which had been quickly constructed to burn the remains. Each one a small bed on which the dead my rest one final time. Each onlooker was dressed in their brightest color clothing, extravagant and brilliant. Those who had none had been given clothing by those who had. The people of Mirage took care of each other in times of need.

Standing apart from the mourners were volunteers holding bowls of powdered elements, a group of seven for each pyre. These were the color bearers, who offered the grieving the choice of what color the flames that would consume the flesh of their loved ones would be, whether it was their favorite in life, as was usually the case, or a mixture of colors, it was important to the people of Mirage to have options for the flame. They, too, were dressed in their best and brightest.

Guards were posted away from the pyres patrolling the desert sands, keeping an eye on the horizon to make sure that these funerals were not disturbed. Under ordinary circumstances they were unnecessary, as a single pyre burning was unlikely to attract the attention of any of the beasts of the Wastes until long after the fact. A mass funeral like this was much more likely to gain the attention of wandering reauslers or reavers who may hold little respect for the dead and pounce on the opportunity to inflict even more tragedy. Theirs was a solemn duty, but an important one on this day and the days to come. Each of them wore a colored band around their forearm of choice along with their armored uniforms as a sign of respect for the dead.

Not far away, a team of workers were creating the coffins for the deceased. Wood was a precious commodity in the desert and not easily come by. Most of the wood in Mirage would be spent on the pyres in the days to come, so coffins were created by the same method as rainbow streets. Circular pits were dug into the desert sands, two for each coffin, and flame was taken to them to create crude, colorful caskets for the departed. The bones of the deceased would be taken from the remains of the pyres and placed within one half, then the other would be sealed atop to seal the coffin. Once they had cooled completely, they would be taken back within Mirage and down below into one of the four ossuaries in the city where the family might visit them. Name plates were constructed and added at a later date to identify the dead.

The bereaved marched through the streets of Mirage single file as a parade of sadness. Those closest to the departed carried their dead wrapped in clothes of white. Their bodies had been cleaned and dressed one last time in their most colorful clothing so that they might burn with the bodies that adored them so. Many of the adults were carried by two or three surviving members of the family. The smaller were cradled by one. At the front and the back of the procession were singers who belted out a beautiful song beauteous and sorrowful for all to hear. It spoke of colors which would never be seen again, of lives taken unfairly, how, despite this, the living must go on without them. It spoke of being there for each other to lift one another up in times of loss and tragedy. The message was as inspiring as it was sad.

Joscur walked with Marisia at his side, carrying Vamenco in his arms for the last time. He marched one step at a time, wearing an outfit that he hadn’t worn since the passing of his children’s mother. Nitid and flowing, it was an outfit of blues and yellows, greens and purple, which flowed behind him with the grace of a dress. Marisia was dressed in deepest purples and vibrant oranges, the blindfold around her eyes an enchanting blue. She held onto her father’s shoulder who looked ahead straight and saw nothing. His eyes were dry for he had no more tears to shed despite the crushing despair on his breast.

William stood beside Daniellex near the pyre that was meant for Vamenco. The former looked down at the sand. The latter watched as the singing procession grew closer. As they did, the gathered grieving also began to sing, growing into a great chorus of heartache and catharsis. One by one, the dead were placed on their funerary beds and the families selected the colors which would be tossed by the handful onto the bodies and the wood which would cleanse them. As Joscur and Marisia drew close, Daniellex left William’s side and walked over to his friend to help select the colors.

Marisia was pulled away from her father when an excited and relieved Kara pushed her way through the crowd, calling Marisia’s name. Marisia turned towards her friend and embraced her, breaking out into tears once again upon being reunited with one another. Neither had known the other’s fate until now, and so relief and sorrow mingled with one another like awkward bedfellows. Daniellex walked Joscur up to Vamenco’s pyre and asked what colors he wished for his son. He grabbed the powdered substances himself while Joscur laid Vamenco to rest and sprinkled them on gently while people sang.

When every body had been placed to rest, the colors selected, and the families joining the crowd in their numbers, the fires were lit. As one a line of funerary flame erupted over the desert in brilliant colors! Reds, greens, purples, yellows, blues, oranges more vibrant than any ordinary flame came to life and consumed the flesh of the deceased. Some fires were singular, solid colors. Others were a dancing menagerie of all available tones and hues. The singing intensified. Tears were shed.

William walked up and stood beside Joscur who stared into the green and orange flames that took away his son’s body. “He would have been a city guard, just like you,” William said softly.

Joscur looked at William reluctantly, the initial emotion of rage filling his chest to swelling. He considered striking William then and there, but was halted from doing so as William continued to speak.

“You would have been proud of him, so very proud. He would have gone on to uphold the values of Mirage, become a well recognized and trusted friend of the people. He would have had a family all his own, given you a daughter by marriage that you would have loved dearly. Grand children that would have clattered around your home every time they visited. You would have grown old and been filled with the love of a family that was whole and complete enough just from Vamenco’s lineage, let alone what Marisia would have contributed.

“Or he might have been a dye merchant. He would have been damn good at it. He would have become rich, modestly so, and shrewd in business. He would have traveled to the mainland and been gone for months, years at a time, but would always come back with the most wonderful stories and brand new colors to paint the city in. He would have taken care of you and your daughter for all of your days. You would have lived comfortable lives together, or apart. He would have made sure of it.

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Or he may have been an architect, after spending time as a construction worker under his godfather. He would have gone on to create a renaissance within Mirage’s architecture and revolutionized how the city looked and felt. He would have been lauded as a genius, and he would have been unhappy while he was working. Constantly putting pressure on himself to do better, be better. You would have worried for him, tried to get him to slow down. He would have pushed you away. Lived on his own. But after his first building had been erected, he would have approached you and mended lost bonds. And you would have been happy. So happy then. You and Marisia and Daniellex especially would have helped him through his personal struggles and beliefs of inadequacy, and he would have left Mirage different from when he was born into it and remembered forever.”

Joscur listened to William speaking and he stared at him. He couldn’t understand why, but for some reason, William spoke with a certainty and a clarity in his voice that was devoid of all supposition. The way that the black haired stranger was talking was as if he knew these possible futures to be true. Immutable facts. It should have made him angry to hear of all of these tomorrows that had been robbed from his son, and yet, something in William’s voice was comforting rather than scalding. He continued to listen.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen. None of it,” William declared with a shake and bow of his head. “I’m going to find out why it did, and make sure it can never happen again. I’m sorry, Joscur.”

William walked away from the burning dead and Joscur watched him go before turning back to the colorful fires that engulfed Vamenco. He had no idea as to why William had said the things that he had. He wasn’t comforted by his words nor was he offended by them. He was devoid of anything but pain.

***

William rode up to the top of Natator Tower where he knew that the Elder Council was waiting for him. He’d given them four days to do as they were told and now he wanted an update. Everything was still so unsettling to him, now more so than ever. Lucifer had been infected by the oleum… how? How? How could they possibly be so dangerous? And if they were, why wasn’t Mr. Wink doing anything to stop it himself? He’d always been a maverick, working alone where the others of their ilk worked together, but he knew about this and had forcibly put William in the spot to deal with it rather than do so himself. Why?

He opened and pushed past the door that read “For the good of us all” and marched up the stairs into the council chamber where all seven members of the council were quietly deliberating among themselves while technicians worked in the shadows around them. As he stepped up onto the mosaic stage they ceased their talking and looked at him. No one had summoned William to their chamber.

“Have you dealt with the oleum beneath the tower?” William asked.

“We… yes, they’ve been destroyed,” Kieran confirmed.

“Please leave. We have not asked for you to be here, and there is still much work and coordination to be done,” Mernavira spoke up, trying to be cordial but firm in her position as one of the seven leaders of this city. She, more than the rest of the six that had been in that room the morning William revealed himself, had been made to forcibly give the eidolon a great deal of respect she previously did not have thanks to his stunt.

“No,” William said flatly, defiantly. “Any work that you need done needs to involve me now. We don’t have time to pretend it doesn’t. How goes the ornithopters heading north?”

“We managed to rig up a system with the help of some machina technicians,” Niamh spoke up after some hesitation. “But it only works for a single ornithopter. It is currently headed north, seeking Lucifer,” he said, pointing to a particular monitor that had a suited technician glued to the screen, watching it as the flying animunculi made its way over the Wastes. “A portable charging station was constructed with the help of the animunculi, who is carrying it in a wagon through the desert. They should be able to locate any place that Lucifer might have gone so long as nothing happens to either one.”

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but better than nothing given the haste at which it had been put together. “The minute you find something of note, I want you to give me the information. In the mean time, we should discuss what will happen once we do find Lucifer.”

“We are all ears,” Ode said glumly.

“We don’t know exactly how many oleum Lucifer has at his disposal. I killed one of them, but there were dozens more than night – and those were just the ones I saw. We need to kill all of them, and we have to do it in such a way that they don’t infect anyone else. Fire seemed to work. I don’t want to rely on just those flamethrowers, though…” William mused, beginning to pace as he thought.

“Is this not all a bit much?” Eira pipped up, the old woman glancing over at young Boma. “You are speaking as though this were a matter for the military -”

“No,” William interrupted, eyes fixated on her with scorn. “It’s much more pressing than that. I thought I emphasized that enough during out last meeting. I’ll need access to any of Lucifer’s research that survived as well.”

“What? Why?” Ode asked, confused.

William continued as he turned away, not bothered to explain himself to these people. “If you find any of the oleum’s corpses, I need to see them before they’re disposed of. Contact me when you’ve found one or the other.”

“Whatever for?” Thrain asked.

“Weaknesses! It’s the oldest lesson to be learned in warfare, know thy enemy, and I need to know this one!” William called without turning back towards them. His message had been delivered and he had no further reason to stay in that high tower and debate with those who didn’t know any better.

As he descended Natator Tower he took some time to decompress and think as best as he could. He was exhausted from today already, and he knew that it was nothing compared to what Joscur was feeling, or any of the other bereaved who were burning and burying their dead today. He knew all too well exactly how they were feeling and it made him restless. Not knowing what to do – for them, this city, this world – made him restless. It felt like all he could do was wait. Wait for grief to pass enough that the people around him could begin to function again. Wait for reports from the Elder Council. Wait for Lucifer to show back up again. Wait. Wait. Wait. William hated waited so desperately much.

Outside of the tower he sat on the steps with his blade resting across his lap. He stared out at nothing, his gaze looking far beyond everything before his gray eyes, and tried to decide on what it is he should be doing. The thought of meeting up with Joscur and his family felt as appropriate as it would for him to show up at anyone else’s home to grieve with them. Alienation settled in over his being again, as it often did whenever he stopped or slowed down in his never ending quest: he did not belong with them. Or here. Or anywhere. He knew all of them in ways more intimate and primal than any of them could ever understand, and none of them quite knew him. The only beings he had any sort of kinship with were his fellow Eidolons, but where were they, now, three thousand years later? He didn’t know. They weren’t meant to be apart like this. Only Mr. Wink had operated like that throughout the eons. The rest of them had stuck together, tried to puzzle it all out. Now he was alone. Adrift. Faced with some new impossibility that he needed to solve on his own. He considered, seriously, using the sword in his lap for its intended purpose, but as always, found himself butting heads against a familiar wall. It would be easy. No one would know unless he wanted them to. The driving force of thousands of choices all made by imposed predestination was tempting as ever, but then…

“William?” came the raised voice of Teutna, cutting through the ambiguous fog of his malaise with the touch of her hand on his shoulder.

William turned his head slowly to look at her. It took him a moment to focus on her face. She was happy to see him, evidenced by the embrace she gave him as she leaned down and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. The gasp as she squeezed him tighter. She pulled back and he saw that she was wearing garbs that he had no idea she owned. Colorful and flowing, nothing at all like the practical wear he had almost exclusively seen her in. Her hair was done up and controlled. She wore a beauty that said ‘I can do it if I try’.

“Rally-ho! What’re ye doin’ here? I thought ye might have been… well…” Teutna trailed off, not wanting to seem rude. Her expression grew concerned as she saw his vacant mask.

“I… No, I survived,” he said, pulling himself back into the moment with a practiced fluidity. He straightened up and made to stand but Teutna took a seat next to him and so he relaxed once more. “I was just sitting here… wondering what to do next.” He looked to the captain of the Andros and put on a weak smile. “It’s good to see you. In all the commotion, I hadn’t thought to… to look for you. Sorry.”

“Dinnae think nothin’ o’ it. Truth be truth, I hadnae thought to look for ye either,” she confessed with a light shrug of the shoulder. “Tis been a rough few days, it has…”

“What are you doing here?” William asked softly.

“Oh, I… well, may seem odd it might, but, I came to get me favorite book to read,” she said, turning to look briefly at the yawning, shaded portal of Natator Tower before looking back to her crewmate. “Tis a comfort, ye kin? Something to keep my mind off of tragedy for a while.”

“I didn’t take you for the reading type,” William said. She chuckled softly, shrugging again.

“Why? ‘Cause ye only ever see me helming a ship or drinking with the lads?” When she put it like that, it seemed to put into perspective just how little time William had spent with her and the rest of the wellermen he’d worked with for the past month. It was still more time than William had spent with anyone else in Mirage by technicality, but it was a sterile sort of company he kept. Always distant, and she knew that, and she immediately regretting putting it out there in the tone of voice she had that William didn’t know her very well. “Sorry,” she quickly apologized.

“I just come from one of the funerals for our crew. Pertua’s dead,” she informed him. William looked at her, not recognizing the name at first. “Ah, she was good as they come, she was…”

William looked away and recalled the face the name belonged to. Yes, Pertua. She had been one of the crewmates of the Andros that stayed near the engine and made sure that it was in working order. Most times that meant keeping sand out of anywhere it shouldn’t be. She had stayed up by the captain more than most. He remembered how she’d spoken up the night he’d first sung, asking about the accuracy of his tune.

He knew that she had a family who was still watching her burn as they had not chosen to leave yet. A rather large family at that. Thinking on it more, he knew that she had been the second oldest of four children, had chosen to be a wellerman in order to support said siblings, her parents, and her extended family because she hadn’t felt as right in a more traditionally feminine role in the markets. So much he knew about her without having ever directly interacting with her this time around… A vacuum began to threaten to open up within him again and he knew he had to stop thinking about what he knew of Pertua because of her choices or else he might break down and spiral in front of the captain.

William took in a sharp breath. “Anyone else on the crew die?”

“Dunno. Haven’t run into everyone yet. I suspect because they’re all with their babas and sutas, those that have them anyway. Andros hasn’t left port since… Well, before, so I’ve no been able to get a full headcount just yet.”

“But you attended her funeral. Pertua’s,” he noted.

“Aye, well, as her mum, felt only right that I should show my respects to one of the best ningen I knew,” Teutna said casually. Her voice only barely cracked at the end and she took in a sharp inhale to steady herself. “So now I’m here for a book! Me favorite. Reminds me of home.”

“What’s it about?” William asked, once more staring off into nothing.

“Ah, ye dinnae wanna hear about it,” Teutna said, dismissively waving her hand in his direction.

“No. I do,” William corrected without looking at her. She looked at him and realized he was asking just for the sake of a distraction and so acquiesced.

“Well. Ah. Ye kin, tis ah… well, a, uh,” she paused, clearing her throat. “A story about a wee lass and a brash lad. Ye kin. Fallin’ in love and whatnot. Story for littleuns, ye kin it?”

Her nervousness made William chuckle and draw his gaze back to her. “That’s your favorite?” he asked, amused.

“Dinnae be judgy, now, William! I read it as a lass and have always liked it!” she rebuked defensively. “They even made one of those fancy projection out of it iffen I recall! Tis a very popular story on the mainland!”

“Projection? They have those already?” William asked, honestly having not taken the time to consider if entertainment technology had gotten to that point again.

“I suspect they have for a while. Are ye one of those bumpkins what has never seen a projection?” she ribbed, herself happy to be talking about anything other than death and sadness, even at the expense of her own embarrassment.

“I have, I have. Just… not lately. Forget it. So your favorite story is a love story. Never would have guessed,” he chortled.

“Well, that may well be on account of ye not getting to know me very well,” she reminded him. William had nothing to say in retort to this, so she continued. “Ye kin, tis not that I don’t respect a ningen what wants his privacy, but you’re more tight lipped and close-hearted than anyone I’ve ever known, I reckon. Rally-ho, William, have ye no one in your life worth letting know you?”

It was a poignant question, and one that she was afraid she might have asked in haste or without thinking of how rude it might have been. She was on the verge of apologizing again when William answered her quietly.

“Cornello. His name’s Cornello.”

“And where’s this Cornello lad at then, eh? Why’re ye not with ‘im? He dinnae…?”

“No. He’s not here. I don’t know where he is…”

“And is that all? Have ye no one else?”

William didn’t answer her, but his thoughts returned to Joscur and his remaining family. When the silence between them became too heavy, Teutna let out a sigh.

“The funerals here are quite nice, don’t you think?” she asked, changing the subject. “I’ve been in Mirage for… pfft, better part of twenty years now? Attended a couple, here and there. Always such colorful affairs! Celebrations they are! Not like the funerals up where I’m from, do ye kin?”

“And where’s that?” William inquired.

“I be from up above this continent, did ye not know that already? Thought I’d mentioned it afore. Ah, well. Above the Twins. Nice cozy little city called Gasden. Coastal town. Nice stretch of the Eundian Sea between it and the Wastes, kin it? Twas there I read Periwinkle Skies for the first time as a lass.”

“That’s the name of your favorite book?” William asked, unable to hold back a smile. She saw that and gave him a weak shove for being judgy once more.

“Aye, tis the name! Funerals are a lot different in Gasden than they are here, though. Mournin’ events they are, the dead either put in the ground, sent adrift to sea, or left in the wilds for the land to take for its own. Whatever a person’s preference for funerary rites be. Those left behind are always sad, sad, sad. Tears a’plenty! Sometimes for months or years on end. Some just cannae seem to let their loved ones go like that… not here, though. Here in Mirage, they get the crying out and done with in the days leadin’ up to the pyre, then they cry with all their hearts as the bones are getting crisp, and they cry when they set the colorful coffin in the ground, but after? Well, after they feast, and sing songs, and share tales, and try to make it a grand event! I suspect that Mirage is gonna be a city of tears in the day and a party at night for the next little while! Everywhere mourns different, I kin it…”

Teutna trailed off, trying to remember what the point was in bringing all of this up. Trying to recall if there had ever been one, or if she was just trying to distract herself and William for a moment. Looking at him, still sat slumped over as he was with a face saggy, she determined that they both could use a further distraction! She got up and looked down at him and he looked up at her.

“Right-o, I’m gonna go inside real quick and grab Periwinkle Skies for meself, then I am cordially inviting you to come and have a drink with me before we go and spend the rest of the evening with Pertua’s family!” she declared boisterously.

“What? Mum, I don’t know them,” William lied, watching her take two steps up towards the door before she paused to answer him.

“Dinnae matter! Mirage funerals are a community affair! Neighbors and family mingling together, bringing food, having guests – a party! A party, William! A party! I be takin’ you to a party!” she insisted, taking another two steps towards her favorite book.

“Mum, I’m going to have to pass,” William said, raising his voice and half turning on the spot to face her.

“Oooooh, no! Ye stiffed me once afore already, Songbird! Ye cannae slip away now!” She waved a hand at him dismissively and continued her march. William rose up to his feet and got after her, gently placing a hand on her shoulder to get her to stop.

“Look, I appreciate it, captain, but I… I think I have somewhere else I should be, is all,” he informed her as he looked down at her face. There was a touch of disappointment in her expression. He briefly thought about Lucifer and the oleum, Mr. Wink and the Dandy Man, what it all meant, what he had to do, and through all of that thinking there was her brown eyes looking back up at him, and older woman trying to not let him be alone after a horrific tragedy. He needed to meet her halfway he realized.

“Look. Go get Periwinkle Skies, and then you and I can go get a drink somewhere that’s not demolished, then we’ll go our separate ways to be with people who lost someone in all of this. Alright?”

She smiled and nodded. It was a good enough compromise for her. That was something she could say she hadn’t known about William before then; that he could compromise.

***

Marisia sat quietly midway up the stairs to her home and trying not to listen to the world around her. It was a handful of hours since Vamenco’s funeral, exactly how many was too much of a blur for her to make sense of, and she, her father, and godfather had all come back home for the secondary part of the funeral that always proceeded when someone was placed in the catacombs inside of their rainbow coffin – the celebration of life. The people of Mirage took death in stride and always tried to recall the life of the departed in as positive a way as possible. That meant good company, good food, good drink, and stories about those who had burned and been buried.

She was finding this celebration especially difficult. Perhaps more so even than when she had attended her own mother’s funeral five years past. She’d been younger then, the sorrow of losing her mother fresh and tender. She had cried in her father’s arms a lot, and when she wasn’t crying, she was helping to take care of her infant brother. Now her brother was gone and her father was despondent. How could he not be? She did not blame her father for not holding her today.

Uncle Dani was in the kitchen, piling food onto his plate and talking with one of her cousins. She and her father had a fair sized family, tragedies aside. Her grandparents had all passed on and her father was an only child, so she had no true aunts or uncles on his side to attend, but she had cousins, great aunts, and uncles who had all come to help mourn the loss of Vamo. The relatives on her mother’s side of the family rarely came around anymore, and as far as she could tell, they were not there today. At least not yet.

Kara was also there along with her parents and friends of her father and Uncle Dani who had come as well. Nearly all of them had brought some sort of food which now crowded the kitchen out in the open or had been put away for later consumption. The house was full to the brim with people! Yet Marisia felt cripplingly alone in this moment. How could she not? There was no one here that she wanted to talk to or be with who wasn’t her father, and she recognized that he wanted space to himself for now so she gave it to him.

There was her second cousin Trumi bellowing with laughter she heard! He had been exchanging words with his aunt, her great aunt, Syllila, about Vamenco growing up. Specifically they were discussing watching him take some of his first steps when he had been brought to them to visit. How enthusiastic he had seemed to want to move!

Then she heard, cutting through the chatter, Daniellex’s booming voice as he recalled to another of her father’s cousins, Bom, how little Vamo had once tugged on his beard so hard that it ripped out several strands of his facial hair and left him with an uneven divot for months! The two of them laughed along with others around them, but she saw no reason to laugh at the memory.

There, still, was Kara, sitting with her mother on some pillows in the sitting pit, sniffling about how she wished she hadn’t been quite so annoyed with Vamenco when she came to visit Marisia and he ran around the room, trying to get her to play. She expressed regret at not doing so more often when she was over and Marisia heard her mother shush her as she pulled her into an embrace before she started to cry again.

On and on the noise went all around the grieving sister – former sister, now an only child – things she picked up and tried to ignore, hands grasping at her elbows to keep herself from falling apart. She felt no hunger and so had no food. She was surrounded by people she knew and yet felt as though in a room with strangers. All of these cousins and uncles and aunts she hardly knew, not because of any bad blood between family members, no. They simply did not interact very often outside of events where they gathered like this one (although usually under more fortunate circumstances) despite living in the same city. As far as she knew there was no real reason as to why they were as distant from one another as they were. That’s just the way her family was, and consequently she knew basically no one in the room as much as she would have liked except for her godfather and her father, who were both grieving in their own way. Polar opposites of one another.

Uncle Dani was assuming the role of patriarch for this celebration of Vamenco’s life. He had been greeting guests, passing out food, giving hugs, telling stories, giving thanks: everything that her father should have been doing but was too devastated to do. She knew this just as well as she knew that her Uncle Dani would probably vanish from their lives for a few days to go drink himself silly and do his own private grieving at the bottom of a glass and, very likely, in the lap of a woman in scarlet. Such was his way. He was being strong for her and her father right now, and she loved him for it. She was scared that if she tried to do the same, she might have the both of them breaking down in tears in no time.

Her father sat alone on the far side of the room. Food had been placed beside him but she had not heard his plate be picked up even once. She was fairly certain that he hadn’t eaten anything because of this. Joscur hadn’t moved from the spot since they had gotten home. After Vamenco had been placed in the ground, she and Daniellex had waited until he was ready to leave, then had walked him home together in near total silence. When they arrived he had split from them and gone to sit quietly by himself and there he had remained for the past several hours. She was frightened of the possibility that approaching her father right now would insight rage in him, and so left him be for his own sake.

Which left her to sit alone on the stairs, her eyes sore from near constant crying, the cloth around them damp with tears, holding herself together and simply trying to exist in a world that now had left her bereft of both her mother and her brother. It wasn’t fair. She was devastated. But what could she do? Marisia was afraid of doing anything at the moment, convinced by a fragile, tiny, but convincing voice inside of her that if she did anything else wrong or step out of some ill-defined line of cosmic order that what remained of her world would fall apart as it had for so many others and she would be left alone with the broken pieces. She tried telling herself that others had it so much worse than she did in this moment. It did little to comfort her.

Worst of all, though, was the inexplicable longing she felt. Not for the comfort of her father or her lost brother, her stolen mother, but for a fascinating stranger with a soft voice that her brother had been quite fond of: William. Where was William in all of this? He’d been at the funeral. She heard him speak to her father about her brother before walking away. Why wasn’t he here now? It somehow felt wrong that he wasn’t there even though she had only known him for such a short amount of time. With all of her friends and family that she’d known for years surrounding her, why was it that the one person she wanted to be near was a stranger that enraptured Vamo’s attention while he’d been alive and William had been around? She felt guilty for not feeling like she had enough of the people around her, especially when William was effectively a total stranger to her! Why should his presence be of more comfort to her than her actual blood relatives?

Yet as she sat there, afraid to make any sort of move towards anyone else that might give her the comfort she so desired, she listened for the sound of his voice or the calling of his name to announce his arrival. She didn’t understand why and, in her grief, was cycling through paralytic fear and guilt that kept her in place by herself, just like her father. It occurred to her that everyone else likely thought that she and Joscur were suffering similarly and had elected not to bother either of them. She had heard her godfather asking someone politely to let her mingle when she was ready to. She felt so ashamed to be sat waiting like this as though she weren’t as hurt by the loss of Vamo as her father had been! Which only enforced the cycle to perpetuate itself and keep her in place! ‘What is wrong with me? Why do I feel this way?’ she thought to herself in silent desperation.

The spell was broken by the sound of Uncle Dani’s voice. “William! There you are! Come, come inside! Get some food!”

Her head perked up and she turned to face the front door of her home that she hadn’t heard open over the chatter. “Thank you,” she heard William say softly. That confirmed it for her. Slowly, Marisia began to rise to her feet, holding a hand on the stair beneath her as her legs tingled. She hadn’t realized they’d fallen asleep.

Her hearing was focused almost entirely on William and Daniellex at that point. “Is it alright that I’m here?” William asked across the room. “Joscur seemed…”

“Yes, it is fine,” Uncle Dani reassured him. She heard her godfather’s hand clap on William’s shoulder as she was straightening up and holding a hand out to the wall to her left to steady herself as she began to tread carefully down the steps. “Give him time. He has lost much… but you know this. Come, let us get you something to eat.”

As Marisia came to the bottom stair of the room she knew every square inch of so long as nothing was out of place, she reached out and gently touched those around her as she moved towards the kitchen, following the sounds of William and Daniellex’s voices. She quietly apologized to people for moving past them, excusing herself and trying to move quickly with at least one arm held out in front of her. A couple of relatives helped guide her along with a gentle hand, something she might have ordinarily taken offense to since they were not outside of her home. She didn’t care right now though. She just wanted to get to him.

Quickly she made her way from the stairs over the narrow side of the sitting area, twenty six steps from the bottom of the stairs to the kitchen area. An inefficient path she might have been annoyed by normally, but not today. Her heart pounded in her chest. Something swelled in her breast at the same moment that something dropped in her stomach. Her footsteps were urgent, needy. Part of her felt that they should have been directed towards her father, but no. The soft spoken stranger was her goal.

The kitchen was simultaneously a barrage of sensory information and a refuge from the main front room of their home that was packed with people. There were only a few people in here gathering food. She smelled the spices, the warm aromas of home cooked food shared. Potatoes were unmistakable as they were plentiful. No one was speaking in here and the sounds of people talking about her brother were stiflingly loud behind her! Where were they? Uncle Dani, William. They’d come in here for food hadn’t they? She turned her head to either side, trying to listen, to pick up a sign of either one of them. She was breathing quickly, adrenaline rushing through her system. Where? Where? Where?

“Marisia?”

William’s voice was as soothing as a gentle desert breeze wafting over the distant sand dunes and passing through the aerated oasis city just as the sun gave way to the triplets. She turned to her left where his voice had come from and she felt her throat tighten up as she choked. She held her arms out and walked over to where she’d heard him. Daniellex was saying something but she couldn’t hear him. Marisia embraced William around the neck and he held her around the middle of her back gently as she pressed her face to his neck and broke down in tears once again. Guilt. Relief. Anguish. Shame. It all streamed out of her eyes and was soaked into the bright colored cloth that hid her birth defect. She sobbed and felt bittersweet coziness standing there. Soon after, the familiar touch of Daniellex’s hand on her shoulder helped to anchor her in the moment and she reached up to touch his hand. There was so much she wanted to say but found that she couldn’t because of her throat. So she simply stood there and existed in the moment, accepting it for what it was. For all that it could be.

Across the crowded room, Joscur had turned to look at his daughter upon hearing her sobbing voice and found her held in the eidolon’s arms. He looked on with numbness that felt almost like a father’s protective rage.