It was my first Christmas with zero snow. I didn't realize that was something I would miss until the holiday season rolled around, and it was sunny and sixty degrees out. But it wasn't just me – I noticed my parents also seemed to be experiencing some seasonal whiplash. The lack of winter weather made it hard to feel the appropriate amount of cheer.

  For better or for worse, though, none of us had much time to dwindle on it. We were all busy preparing for a dinner party we were hosting at our place. Most of our extended family from various states decided to drive or fly to San Diego to see our new house. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, significant others... Everyone was coming, and for part of the day, my house would be filled with people. Tensions were slightly high as my parents attempted to perfect the decorations, food, and cleaning before guests began to arrive.

  As a kid, I was never very excited for the holidays because I always found the events overwhelming. There were always too many people around. Too much hustle and bustle. Too much chaos and noise. I could never really get comfortable or enjoy myself. I'd hide behind my parents and wait for the event to end.

  Nowadays, I was better at handling it. I could make small talk. I could laugh with relatives about politics and sports. I could tune out the chaos and enjoy the energy. And if things got too intense, I could always focus on taking photos. It was easy for me to be the photographer—to be behind the camera and watch the world in front of me through the viewfinder.

  Downstairs, I found myself watching the interactions between my parents. I couldn't help but notice the way they moved together, orbiting each other in their own little dance. My dad would walk by, and my mom would instinctively reach out and touch his arm as she leaned into his ear to mumble a thought. She would say something witty, and my dad would throw his head back in laughter. They'd always been affectionate, but there was something extra that popped up every year around Christmas. Something more natural and easy. They were like a well-oiled machine when working under stress.

  As a devoted businesswoman, Mom had always been organized and calculated, which helped greatly in times like this. There was no yelling across the house about who was arriving when, what needed to be cleaned, or where the extra wine was. She would pull out this giant binder with pages, tabs, and labels. I was surprised when she first started doing it, but I learned quickly that this was how she managed things, and I knew I couldn't judge. Dad was a little less on the systematic side, but he had an incredible knack for bringing people together and keeping everyone engaged. He loved a good party, and it showed.

  The guests were due to arrive any minute, and everything was perfect. I headed upstairs and got changed. I had opted for an oversized, burgundy plaid cardigan, a cream-coloured shirt, and high-waisted, black slacks. After fixing my hair and makeup, I'd just grabbed my camera when my phone buzzed from my pocket. Confused, I pulled it out and glanced at the screen. My stomach dropped.

  An incoming call from Luke.

  My fingers flinched above the screen. What if he'd called me accidentally? What if he'd meant to call someone else? I hadn't seen him since Friday at the formal, and we'd barely texted since then. If I answered the phone, what would I even say? I'd finally come to terms that I had feelings for him. That came with the risk of having to face my fear of rejection, or at least the consequence of becoming a blubbering mess.

  I took a deep breath and answered. "Hey, what's up?"

  "Chloe, hi! Sorry, did I catch you at a bad time?"

  "Oh, no, not at all. I'm just getting ready for my family thing," I said, looking in the mirror. Even though he couldn't see me, I had a weird urge to fix my hair.

  Luke paused, and the silence between us hung heavy in the air. "Ah, right. Today is Christmas, isn't it?"

  I laughed quietly. "It only happens on the same day every year. Are you celebrating?"

  "Not really," he admitted. "My uncle left for a fancy ski resort in Aspen yesterday."

  "What about your parents?"

  "They're out of town as well." I heard him shuffle some papers in the background. "Mom's still in New Zealand, helping out in the neonatal unit. I saw Dad earlier this week, but he had to leave again for work. He's probably in Canada by now. He had Christmas off last year, so..."

  His tone was casual and light, and I knew that he didn't want me to feel sorry for him. But it broke my heart anyway. My parents also worked a lot; sometimes weren't home for days on end. But even with their hectic schedules, they always tried to make sure they were around for holidays and birthdays. Luke never seemed like the type to get upset over it. If anything, he appeared to take pride in their hard work. I still couldn't help but wonder if he felt lonely.

  I didn't have much time to think about it because he was already changing the subject. "Anyway, I just wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas."

  My stomach flipped. "Merry Christmas, Luke. Has your nose been healing okay?"

  "Yeah." I could hear he was smiling. "No more ice packs. Or painkillers. Still some bruising, though."

  I winced. "Oof. Sorry."

  "It's all good. Thanks for asking."

  I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. The silence between us grew. My mind raced to think of something, anything, to say. Why was it so hard to talk to him, all of a sudden? I'd gotten used to our banter. To being able to joke around with him. I couldn't tell if it was the time of year or the lack of acknowledgement of the (cheek) kiss after the formal, but talking to Luke had become terrifying.

  "So..." I began. "Any plans for today?"

  He laughed. "Well, I wanted to take a drive down the coast. But, no car. So, probably just chill on the couch and watch some Christmas movies."

  "Sounds nice." The conversation was strained. I felt the tension between us, and I had no idea what to do about it.

  "Well, I don't want to keep you. You've got a big night. Send your family my best, yeah?"

  "Yeah, for sure." I bit my lip and tried to summon the courage to ask what was on my mind. "Are you...going to be okay by yourself today?"

  The pause lingered, and I knew immediately that I'd said the wrong thing.

  "Sorry, I didn't mean it like–"

  "No, it's fine. Don't worry about me." His tone was polite. "Thanks for...checking in."

  My brain was satisfied with that answer. It told me that Luke was fine. He was a grown person, and he could take care of himself. My heart felt differently, though. I didn't want him to be alone on Christmas.

  "You're welcome over if you want," I blurted out before I could stop myself. "To hang out, I mean. If you want to. I'm sure my parents wouldn't mind."

  Another pause.

  He said slowly, "That's kind of you... But I don't want to intrude. You deserve some time with your family."

  My chest sank, and my voice dropped in volume. "It's not an intrusion if you're invited. You're more than welcome to join us. Really. There's plenty of room."

  Silence.

  I was pushing my luck. My eyes closed, and I braced myself for his polite refusal. I heard a sharp inhale on the other line.

  "...Are you sure?"

  My eyes flew open. "Yes! Yes. Absolutely."

  "That's..." He cleared his throat. "That's really sweet of you, Chloe. Um, okay. Sure. Should I bring anything?"

  I had to suppress the urge to jump in the air. "Just yourself! Dinner will probably be ready around six. And don't worry about gifts or anything. Just come hungry."

  "Okay. If you're sure it's okay with your parents."

  "To be honest, my mom brought up the general idea the other day."

  "Really? Wow." He let out a short, quiet laugh. "Um, all right. Well, I'll see you later then, I guess. Let me know if you need me to pick anything up."

  "Will do. See you soon!"

  "Bye."

  I set my phone on my desk and collapsed back onto my bed, feeling giddy and nervous at the same time. The last thing I'd expected was for Luke to be spending Christmas with us, but the thought made me happy. Nobody deserves to be alone on the holidays. Especially not someone as great as him.

  And maybe, just maybe, it could be a chance to clear the air.

  I pushed myself off my bed and headed downstairs, where the house was starting to get busier and busier. My younger cousins were all gathered in the living room, arguing about what movie to watch, and the grandparents had begun playing a game of cards in the dining room. It was loud and chaotic and exactly what the holidays were supposed to be.

  I spotted my parents standing in the kitchen. My mom was holding her binder, while my dad was checking on the turkey in the oven.

  "Hey, Mom? Dad?" I said, approaching them. They turned and gave me matching warm smiles.

  Dad closed the oven door. "Hey, sweetheart."

  "Did you finish getting ready?" Mom's seamstress skills took over, and she reached out and smoothed down my sleeves.

  "I did. Uh, also, about the dinner tonight..." I paused, suddenly nervous. "I kind of...invited Luke over. Is that okay?"

  Mom's face lit up. "Of course! That's very nice of you."

  "Oh, wonderful," Dad agreed. "He's a nice boy. Tell him to come hungry. We could feed a small village with all this."

  I laughed. "Already did. Thanks. I'll let him know."

  My parents nodded and returned to their tasks. I took out my phone and walked over to the living room, greeting relatives along the way. Sitting down on the couch, I sent a quick text.

  My parents are cool with you coming. You're welcome to arrive whenever, just be prepared for some chaos

  Soon, the house was filled with the aroma of spices and fresh food. The kids were still arguing over a movie, and my aunt had started setting the table. I was helping her, folding napkins and laying them out, when my phone buzzed again.

  On my way!

  I smiled and returned my phone to my pocket.

  About ten minutes later, Luke arrived. As soon as the doorbell rang, a rush of excitement ran through me. I jumped off the couch and raced towards the front door.

  "I'll get it!" I yelled, earning a few confused glances from my relatives.

  When I opened the door, Luke was standing there with a bottle of wine. He looked dapper but not fancy, dressed in a navy crew neck sweater, khaki pants, and a black leather jacket. A grey beanie was pulled over his hair. The bruising around his eyes was almost gone, but I noticed that his nose had a faint brown-yellow tint. Still cute.

  "Hi," he greeted me with a smile. "Merry Christmas."

  "Merry Christmas." I couldn't help but match his energy. "Come on in."

  He followed me inside and looked around at the decorations and commotion. His expression was calm and neutral, but I knew it was a lot for him. The last thing I wanted was for him to feel uncomfortable.

  "Thanks again for inviting me." He handed me the bottle. "I didn't really want to show up empty-handed, so here's a nice merlot. Hopefully that's good."

  I took the bottle and examined the label. It definitely didn't look cheap. Maybe he'd stolen it from his uncle's collection. "Yeah, my parents like red wine. Thank you."

  Luke's eyes scanned the crowd, and he gave me a sidelong look. "How many people are here?"

  I bit back a smile. "Not that many. Only twenty-five or so."

  He let out a low whistle. "Wow. All right."

  "Yeah, we don't usually do too much for the holidays, but it's the first Christmas in this house. So, Mom and Dad are really trying to make it special."

  "Got it. So, should I meet your parents first, or...?"

  I nodded. "I'll introduce you to everyone."

  After Luke hung up his jacket and hat, I brought him into the kitchen, where my parents were still working away. The entire island was covered with trays and pots of food.

  "Hey, guys, this is Lucas," I announced. "Luke, these are my parents, Geneva and Theodore."

  Luke extended his hand to my dad, and they shook. "Nice to meet you, sir. Thanks so much for having me."

  "It's no problem at all," Dad said. "Welcome, welcome."

  "We're glad you could make it." Mom also reached out to shake his hand.

  "Thank you. You have a beautiful home."

  She grinned. "Oh, how sweet! Well, are you hungry, or would you prefer to mingle a bit before dinner? We're going to eat in about an hour."

  Luke looked at me, and I shrugged. "Whatever you want," I told him.

  "Um, maybe I should go introduce myself to everyone, then."

  "Great. We'll go around and introduce you."

  Luke nodded, and I brought him into the dining room. My grandparents, aunts, and uncles were all sitting and chatting, glasses of wine in their hands. Everyone quieted when we approached, and Luke waved, smiling warmly.

  "Everyone, this is Lucas," I announced. "We're classmates. Luke, these are my grandparents, aunts and uncles."

  He raised his hand. "Hello."

  I watched my relatives' faces carefully as they studied Luke, their expressions ranging from intrigued to delighted. He didn't seem nervous, though. In fact, he kept his chin up and maintained eye contact. My aunts, however, were all practically swooning. They were the biggest gossips, and I was sure the news of his appearance would spread throughout the family before the next hour.

  We continued the rounds. Luke was gracious and polite to everyone I introduced him to. He had a natural gift for conversation and seemed genuinely interested in every word my cousins were saying. The younger kids were instantly engrossed with him, and I watched as he sat and listened, nodding thoughtfully, as my cousin Hazel told him all about her ballet performance and the new dress she had gotten for Christmas. It was a little endearing.

  I'd noticed a while ago that Luke was pretty popular at school. I wasn't sure how he had managed to charm every person he met, but I had to admit it was impressive. Not even I could claim to have such a diverse circle of friends.

  When we were finished meeting everyone, I brought Luke into the living room, where he settled on the couch. I sat beside him, and my cousins quickly engaged him in another conversation. I was watching him closely, trying to pick up on any signs of boredom or annoyance. But I found none. His face was warm and relaxed, his tone genuine and his laugh easy. He was completely at ease, and it was fascinating.

  A short while later, dinner was served. Luke was seated beside me, across from my two aunts, who were talking his ear off about his future plans and what colleges he was applying to. I watched as he handled the attention effortlessly. His eyes kept drifting to mine, and we would exchange amused looks.

  "So, Lucas," Aunt Tanya began. She was a lawyer, and she wore the most intimidating suits. Even at family gatherings. "Chloe tells us you're quite the athlete."

  "Oh, yes," Aunt Lisa said. She was the youngest, and the most fun. "What are you playing these days?"

  "Soccer," he explained. "I started in freshman year."

  "And are you thinking about playing after high school?" Tanya asked, raising her wine glass.

  "Not professionally. I've thought about it, but it's not what I want. I love the game. But I think I want to focus on a career more than anything else."

  Tanya nodded approvingly. "And what are you going to do after graduation?"

  "I'm hoping to study biomedical engineering," he replied, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table.

  Aunt Lisa tilted her head. "Oh, like what? Robots?"

  He laughed quietly. "Maybe someday. It's more about human biology, really. How technology can improve the lives of those with chronic diseases."

  "How interesting," Tanya mused.

  "Where are you thinking to go?" Lisa asked.

  "I have options. Stanford, Berkeley, even Georgia Tech. We'll see."

  My eyes widened a bit. I hadn't realized his academic goals were that ambitious. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. He was an incredibly hard worker, and his dedication was evident in everything he did. I remembered him saying something once about being interested in medicine. How had I never gotten around to asking him more about that?

  "That's exciting," Lisa said. "Chloe's been talking about getting into forensics. Isn't that right?"

  I nodded, suddenly feeling embarrassed. It wasn't that I wasn't proud of my own goals. I was. But I hadn't really given much thought to what I would do after high school. I didn't even know if I'd still be around by then, with everything happening in Emiarhia.

  "Wow, really?" Luke glanced at me, his brow arched.

  I shrugged. "Maybe."

  "Interesting." He gave me a warm smile. "I bet you'd be good at that."

  My stomach flipped, and I looked away, focusing on cutting up my turkey. I didn't know why his opinion mattered so much, but it did. And the fact that he supported me was strangely comforting.

  For the rest of the dinner, the conversation shifted to the various accomplishments and stories of the family members, and the focus was off Luke. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he must have been grateful for the break.

  As the night went on, the house began to get a little louder. My cousins had taken over the living room, playing music and dancing, and a few of the adults were still sitting at the dining table, finishing up their drinks. I had gone to my room to grab a new SD card for my camera, and when I came back downstairs, Luke was standing alone, leaning against the wall and looking a little lost.

  I approached him. "Hey."

  He turned to me and gave me a small, sheepish smile. "Is it always this chaotic around here?"

  "No," I laughed. "Well, sometimes. When we have birthday parties, it gets worse. The kids have no idea what time it is, and the adults are all too tipsy to care."

  "I bet."

  I crossed my arms. "So... What do you think so far?"

  "Of your family? They're great."

  "Good. And you're not just saying that to be nice, are you?"

  "What? No," he laughed. "This is what holidays should be like, right?"

  "I guess so."

  Luke leaned his head against the wall and let out a deep breath. "My family doesn't really do this."

  My eyebrows knit together. "Oh. What do you mean?"

  "We don't really have huge celebrations or anything," he explained, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's mostly just my dad and me. My mom's always somewhere else on the planet, and her side of the family's not really in the picture. I mean, they're all in America, but..."

  I nodded in understanding. "I get it. But at least you get to see your dad every now and then. That's something, right?"

  "Right." He fell silent. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but was holding back.

  I studied him for a moment. His jaw was tense, and his brows were furrowed. Something was bothering him.

  "Um, do you want a drink or anything? Wine? Punch? Eggnog? Hot cocoa?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

  His expression brightened a little. "Hot cocoa sounds good, actually."

  I smiled. "Cool. Have you ever made it with a candy cane?"

  "I have not."

  "You're missing out. Come on."

  I led him into the kitchen, where my mother was putting away the last of the dishes into the dishwasher. She turned when she saw us.

  She wiped her hands on a dishtowel. "Oh, there you are! How is everything, Lucas?"

  "Everything's great," he replied, his smile warm. "The food was incredible, Mrs. Harlington. Thank you."

  "No thanks needed." She glanced at me. "Have you been a good hostess, Chloe?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Yes, Mom."

  "That's good. Keep it up"

  "Anyway..." I nudged Luke. "We're gonna go make some hot cocoa. Did you want some, Mom?"

  She shook her head. "No, honey, I'm good. You go ahead." With that, she gave us a friendly nod and went into the dining room, leaving us alone in the kitchen.

  I motioned to the island, and Luke hopped up onto one of the stools. I grabbed two mugs, a saucepan, and some milk, along with a few other ingredients. As I began heating the pan, I felt Luke's eyes on me.

  "Can I help with anything?" he asked.

  I glanced at him. "Just watch and learn."

  "Aye-aye, captain."

  I poured the whole milk into the pan, then added a bit of sugar and vanilla. Before it began to simmer, I chopped up some milk chocolate pieces and melted them in the microwave.

  Luke watched, his chin resting in his hand. "You're really serious about this, huh?"

  "It's hot cocoa," I replied, waiting for the microwave to beep. "I'm from Minnesota. You're not supposed to be half-assed about it."

  "Duly noted."

  I pointed at him with a spoon. "Are you doubting my abilities, Ottinger?"

  He laughed. "Not at all! Please continue."

  I grinned, then returned my attention to the milk, stirring it until the chocolate was melted. "Powdered mix is fine if you don't want to bother with all this. But anybody who mixes it with water instead of milk is a heathen."

  "I agree."

  "Good." I grabbed a candy cane from a container in the cupboard, snapped it in half, and put one end in each mug. Once the milk and chocolate had combined completely, I began slowly pouring it into the mugs, allowing it to cover the peppermint sticks. "Voilà!"

  Luke smiled, his eyes wide. "Wow. That's actually a lot more effort than I would've put in."

  "It's worth it, trust me." I handed him his mug. "Here you go."

  "Thanks."

  I sat down beside him and took a sip. "Perfect," I said.

  He lifted his mug and inhaled deeply. "Smells amazing." Then, he took a sip.

  "Well?"

  He squinted, then looked at me, a small smile forming on his lips. "I'm not really a hot cocoa person, but this is damn good."

  "Ha! See? I told you."

  "You were right," he laughed. "I bow before you."

  We drank in silence for a few moments. The noise in the other room was a bit muffled. I could hear my cousins laughing and the beat of Christmas music. I had no idea what time it was, but I had a feeling the party would go on for a while. The cocoa was starting to make me a little too warm. I stood up, taking my mug, and walked to the sliding door that led out to the backyard.

  "Where are you going?" Luke asked, watching me.

  "Out here for a minute," I replied, stepping outside and onto the deck.

  It was only a bit chilly, and the cold felt nice. The patio was empty and quiet, and the night was clear. The moon shone down, casting a pale light over everything. Luke followed me, and we sat in a pair of chairs.

  "Nice out here," he remarked.

  "Yeah."

  We drank our cocoa in silence, admiring the view. From where we were sitting, I could see the streetlights of the neighborhood, as well as a few Christmas lights in adjacent yards. It was peaceful, and I closed my eyes, feeling the cool air brush my face.

  After a few minutes, I opened my eyes and glanced at Luke. He was staring up at the sky, his brow furrowed. There was that look again. Like he was holding something in.

  "You okay?" I asked, leaning closer to him.

  He blinked, snapping out of his thoughts, and looked at me. "Yeah, sorry. Just...thinking."

  "What's up?"

  Luke ran his thumb over the rim of his mug, then sighed. "It's just... I'm having a great time, and I'm glad you invited me. But..."

  I felt a pang of worry in my chest. "But what?"

  "...It's nothing." He gave me a small smile and shook his head.

  "Are you sure?"

  He nodded, taking a sip from his mug. "Yep."

  I stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was being truthful. Something was clearly bothering him. But maybe it was too personal. If it was, I didn't want to push him. But this was...different. He didn't seem like his usual, easygoing self.

  "Luke," I said softly. "I know you probably don't want to tell me. And that's okay. But...if there's something going on, and you need someone to talk to... I'm here."

  His expression softened. "See, it's... It's not that I don't trust you. It's just... You..." He trailed off for a brief moment, searching for the right words. "Somehow, you're exactly the person I do and don't want to say this to."

  I wasn't sure how to respond to that. It seemed like a bit of a paradox. "I don't think I need to tell you that that barely makes any sense," I replied with a slight chuckle.

  "I know. I'm not explaining it very well," he admitted, looking a little self-conscious. "But, it's just... What if I say something, and it ends up changing things between us? Changing the way you see me."

  I frowned, trying to understand what he meant. The only thing that came to mind was the kiss. Had he been thinking about that? Did he regret it, and didn't know how to tell me? Or was it something else entirely?

  "Okay, um..." I shifted in my chair. "Is it about what happened? At the formal?"

  Luke stared at me, his lips parting. "I mean, kind of. Which part are you talking about?"

  "Which part are you talking about?" I countered.

  It was as if neither of us wanted to dare utter the word K-I-S-S first. Had it been on my mind constantly since that night? Of course. But had it been the only thing? No. It was a part of a bigger question: Why had he done that, and where did we go from here? It wasn't like it was a passionate, monumental kiss on the mouth, with music and fireworks. It was a simple, sweet peck on the cheek.

  Luke blinked, his eyes narrowing slightly. "The part at the end. When I... Before I left you."

  "Oh. Okay." I took a sip of my cocoa, trying to keep a straight face. Inside, my stomach was flipping. My suspicions were correct. It had been on his mind, too.

  "So..." Luke continued, "I've been a tad worried that I might've wrecked something by doing that. Or made you uncomfortable. In retrospect, I should've asked if it was okay. I'm sorry about that."

  I looked down, shaking my head. "No, don't be. You didn't wreck anything."

  "Oh." He exhaled slowly, and his shoulders relaxed a little.

  "Why do you think you would have?"

  "Because...it was sudden. And it wasn't a hug, or a high-five, or anything like that. It was..." He gestured vaguely. "That."

  I couldn't help but smile a little. It was almost cute, the way he was so nervous. "A kiss?"

  Luke paused, his cheeks flushing. "Yeah. That."

  I shrugged, pretending not to care as much as I actually did. "Well, yeah. I guess it was a bit unexpected. But I'm not weirded out, if that's what you're worried about. I thought it was nice."

  He gave me a curious look. "Really?"

  "Yeah. It was..." I paused, thinking. How could I describe it? "Sweet."

  "Huh." He let out a small laugh. "Well, I'm glad to hear it."

  I tilted my head. My eyes remained fixed on the swirling pattern of my cocoa. "Can I ask you a question, though?"

  He hesitated for a second. "Sure."

  "Was it..." I trailed off, not knowing how to phrase it. "I mean, why'd you do it?"

  Luke fell silent. He stared down into his mug, his expression unreadable. The silence dragged on for what felt like forever. Just as I was about to speak again, he beat me to it.

  "I-I'm not really sure, to be honest," he admitted. "It was just a... A spur-of-the-moment thing, I guess. Because, you know, we were there. And I was happy. And you were... You. I don't know. I don't really have a good answer."

  I swallowed, taking in that response. He seemed so nervous and unsure of himself. It was a far cry from his usual demeanour. It was actually kind of refreshing.

  "Okay... But, am I wrong in believing that...friends don't really...do that?" My voice was small. I couldn't look at him.

  He scratched his chin. "I guess not typically, no..."

  Awkwardness flooded the air between us. Neither of us said anything for a few seconds. This was a conversation I had hoped we would have, but now that we were actually having it, I wasn't prepared.

  "But, um." He cleared his throat. "I guess, if I'm being honest... Maybe it wasn't completely spur-of-the-moment. There was...maybe something more behind it. Something I didn't want to admit. To myself, or to you."

  "And what was that?" I asked quietly, daring a glance in his direction. My heart raced.

  His mouth twisted into a half-smile. "That I..." He stopped, looking conflicted. Then, he laughed nervously, and looked away. "You know what, nevermind."

  I sat up. "No, wait, if there's something you want to tell me, just say it."

  He looked at me with a muddled expression. His mouth was a straight line, but his eyes were soft. I'd never seen him look like this before. He was usually so calm, so sure of himself. But right now, he was hesitant. He was vulnerable. It was like he had shed a layer of skin.

  "I think... Well, we're friends. Good friends. But...there's something else to it. Something else–" He gestured back and forth between us. "Here. …Right? Am I the only one noticing it?"

  "No." The word flew from my lips before I could stop it. I bit the inside of my cheek. "I mean, um. Yeah. I think I get what you're saying."

  "Do you?"

  I nodded, unable to speak. I felt as if my throat had suddenly closed up. My heart was pounding so loudly that I was surprised he couldn't hear it.

  Luke's eyes searched mine. "So... What are we saying, exactly?"

  "I don't know."

  He gave a short laugh. "Neither do I."

  I leaned back in my chair. This was crazy. We had never talked about this, any of this. Apparently, we'd both known that something was happening, but had never discussed it. Now, the floodgates were bursting at the seams.

  "I've, um..." Luke spoke up, running his hands through his hair. "I've had a lot of fun with you. These past few months. You know, hanging out and stuff. Studying. Exploring the city. Going to parties and the dance. All of it."

  I smiled. "Yeah. Me too."

  "So, maybe..." He faltered, then sighed. "I don't want to make things weird. Between us. Or change anything for the worse. All I know is that you're one of my favourite people. And I don't want to lose that, but I also don't want to ignore...this. So, maybe let's just...put a pin in it for now. Until things become clearer. If they ever do. Is that okay? Does that make sense?"

  The compliment warmed my insides. This was him laying his cards out on the table. I thought for a moment. Was that what I wanted? It sounded reasonable, but something was nagging at the back of my mind. Something was telling me to ask, to say it. To say I wanted more.

  "Or, do you not want to put a pin in it?" Luke added, his voice tinged with concern.

  "No, I do," I lied. "It's a good idea. Smart."

  "Right." He sounded relieved. "Cool."

  We looked at each other. A silence fell over us, and a wave of uncertainty washed over me. Maybe this was for the best. If we left things ambiguous, there would be no pressure. We could figure it out. Or not. But we'd have time. I still needed to figure out a few things, too. Like if this was just a phase, or if there was something real there. And if I truly had the freedom and ability to explore that fairly amidst my responsibilities. I just hoped this wasn't going to turn into a repeat of Nathan.

  "Thanks for being honest," I said after a while.

  Luke nodded, and a shy smile crept onto his face. "Yeah, of course. Thanks for listening."

  We gazed at each other, and a familiar heat washed over my cheeks. My body was buzzing with a mixture of emotions. Relief, anxiety, excitement, confusion. It was a lot. I couldn't stay in this moment forever, even though part of me wanted to.

  "We should maybe head back in," I suggested. "My parents are probably wondering where we are."

  "Right. Yeah." He stood up. "After you."

  I rose from my seat and walked towards the door. Luke followed behind. As we approached the sliding glass, the sounds from the party grew louder. A song I didn't recognize was playing, and the voices of my family echoed inside the house.

  When we entered, everyone was in the living room, chatting and drinking and dancing. Nobody seemed to notice us, which was good. I was relieved that the conversation we'd just had had remained private.

  The younger family members were busy opening presents at the foot of the illuminated Christmas tree. Some were playing with new toys, others were watching videos on their phones. Luke and I sat down on the floor near them. I'd already opened my gifts from my parents this morning, but there were a handful of things left under the tree that had my name on them. Unsurprisingly, they were all envelopes.

  I began opening the cards, reading the handwritten messages inside. Some were funny, some were sincere, and some were thoughtful. All had a cheque, gift card, or a bill inside, and the amounts varied. The last time I'd gotten a physical item as a present was probably five or six years ago. Nevertheless, I was thankful.

  When I was done, I set the pile aside and turned my attention back to the others. Suddenly, a memory flashed in my mind. Right! I was supposed to take photos! How could I forget that?

  I quickly stood up and retrieved my camera from the kitchen table. Everyone was chatting, but no one was paying attention. I had a clear view of the entire room. I lifted the camera to my eye, adjusted the focus, and pressed the button. The lens clicked as the camera captured the moment. The light from the tree created a soft glow around the group. Everyone was laughing and talking, and the sight brought a smile to my face. I took another picture. And another. Then, I walked around, snapping shots of different angles. Most of my family had decided to start a game of charades. They were split into two teams, and I couldn't resist capturing a few silly pictures of them.

  Hazel stood in the centre of the circle, holding a piece of paper. She had a determined look on her face, her brows furrowed and her lips pursed. After a few seconds, she raised her arms and made an exaggerated gesture. Everyone watched, their eyes wide and attentive. I zoomed in, hoping to capture a good moment.

  She pointed to herself, then at her teammates, and made a waving motion. One of her cousins shouted out an answer. She shook her head, then tried again. And again. Her teammates guessed multiple times, but she kept shaking her head.

  Eventually, her mother sighed and called time. Hazel groaned and threw her hands up. I grinned and took the shot. The image captured her frustrated, but adorable expression. It was priceless.

  "I was supposed to be a mermaid!" she cried.

  Everyone burst out laughing, and I lowered the camera. I looked at Luke, who was watching the scene with a smile. He noticed me looking at him and gave me a wink.

  "Your turn, Luke!" Aunt Lisa exclaimed. "Come on, get over here."

  He blinked. "Oh, uh, okay."

  He rose from his spot and moved towards the centre of the circle. Hazel handed him the stack of slips, and he took one from the top. He unfolded the paper, his eyes darting back and forth across the words.

  "Ready?" Aunt Lisa prompted.

  He nodded, his face serious. "Yep. Hit me."

  One of the cousins began counting down. At the end of the countdown, Luke held up four fingers to his teammates.

  "Four words," Aunt Lisa said.

  He nodded, then raised his hands up in front of his face, pretending to crank an old-fashioned movie camera.

  "Movie..." my cousin Rachel chimed in.

  Luke nodded again.

  "The Wizard of Oz," my other cousin, Sam, suggested.

  "Nope." He lifted one knee into a right angle, pretending to rest his foot on something, then mimicked shielding his eyes from the sun.

  "Sun," Aunt Lisa guessed.

  "Adventure!" Uncle Chris blurted.

  "The beach?" my mom guessed.

  Luke laughed, shaking his head. I watched him with a smile. It was cute. He was trying his best, and it was funny to watch. I snapped another picture or two.

  He continued his charade, making more and more gestures. Everyone watched him with amused expressions. He made a show of unsheathing an invisible sword, holding the imaginary weapon aloft. He made a sound effect, then swiped the air and pretended to fence an opponent.

  "Swashbuckler," my uncle guessed.

  "Musketeer?"

  "Robin Hood?"

  Luke shook his head.

  "Captain Hook," I guessed, trying not to laugh.

  He pointed at me, making a face that clearly meant, 'Good guess, but not quite'.

  I arched an eyebrow. "Uh, Blackbeard?"

  He shook his head again, then held up four fingers.

  "Four words," Aunt Lisa repeated. "Night at the Museum?"

  "Indiana Jones and the...something?" Rachel asked.

  Luke hunched over and laughed before resuming his charade. He mimed drinking from a flask, then stumbled around, his face scrunched up and his eyes closed.

  "Drunk!" Uncle Chris laughed.

  "Alcoholics Anonymous," Aunt Lisa guessed.

  Sam shot up from his seat. "No, no, it's that pirate! What's his name? Captain Morgan?"

  "Captain Sparrow! Jack Sparrow! Pirates of the Caribbean!" his brother, Benji, yelled.

  "Yes! That's it!" Luke replied, leaning over to high-five him. "Good job, man."

  Everyone applauded. Luke bowed. I took the photo, laughing at his theatrics. He was silly, but in an oddly charming way.

  "All right, all right," Aunt Lisa said. "Who's next?"

  Everyone settled down and began the game once again. I returned to my spot, glancing at Luke. He looked over and caught my eye.

  "Did you get the shot?" he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

  "Yeah. It was perfect."

  He chuckled. "Good. Glad I could be of service."

  I shook my head. It was amazing how effortlessly he could make me smile. There was no doubt about it, I was completely, utterly, and totally crushing on him. But, for now, I would let myself enjoy the moment. I'd think about the consequences later.

  As the night went on, we all got progressively more tired. The grandparents were the first to leave. Then, the older relatives. The younger family members played a few more games, but it was getting late, and many of them had long travel times ahead of them. We'd offered our guest room, but none of them had accepted, explaining that they had hotels or Airbnb's lined up.

  When everyone was gone, I helped Mom and Dad clean up the place. Luke stayed behind to help as well. As we finished tidying, the fatigue was setting in. I yawned, covering my mouth.

  "Tired, kiddo?" Dad asked.

  "Yeah. It's been a long day."

  Mom put her arm around me. "And a wonderful one."

  "Merry Christmas," I told them.

  "Merry Christmas," they said in unison.

  I looked over at Luke, who was folding the couch blanket. He was well out of earshot. I turned back to my parents. "Hey, so, um... Did either of you consider...inviting Kadia? Or, Finley, rather?"

  My parents glanced at each other.

  "Well, um, yes," Dad began. "We wanted to include her, but, uh, well, she declined."

  I blinked. "She did?"

  "Yes," Mom confirmed. "We asked if she'd like to come over, but she said she had other plans. Which is fine, of course. We understand. It's just... Well, we did try."

  I felt a mix of disappointment and guilt. "Oh. Okay. That's fine."

  "But," she added, squeezing my shoulder, "maybe we can do something else, the four of us. Sometime soon."

  I sighed. "It's weird. It feels more like I should than I want to. That sounds bad, but... I don't know. I'm still learning how to be a sister. Or, at least, how to talk to her. And it's a bit difficult to navigate, since, well, I feel like there are so many things to say. And yet, none at all."

  Dad nodded. "That makes sense. She's gone through a lot, too. She's figuring herself out, just like you are."

  "It takes time," Mom agreed.

  I was starting to think that everything in my life required patience. Patience to wait for the right moment. To understand something. To figure out what was next. Waiting, waiting, waiting. How could I not feel guilty about enjoying a fun holiday with my entire family, without her there? Maybe she didn't celebrate Christmas anymore. Or maybe she didn't care. Either way, it seemed like we were at different stages of our lives. We were sisters, but we weren't close. Not in the traditional way, anyway. Maybe in time, we would be.

  I trudged over to Luke, my camera slung by a strap around my neck. "Ready to call it a night?"

  The corner of his mouth curled upwards. "I think one of us definitely is."

  "Shut up," I laughed, nudging him with my elbow.

  We said goodbye to my parents and stepped out onto the front porch. The night air was cool, and a light breeze ruffled my hair.

  "So." Luke stuffed his hands into his pockets. "This was fun. Thank you again for dragging me over."

  I smiled. "No problem."

  There was a moment of silence.

  He pulled his beanie onto his head. "Well, um, I'll get going."

  "Okay," I murmured.

  We stared at each other. The air was dense between us. I was tempted to invite him to stay longer, but it was getting late, and he was probably exhausted, just like me.

  Luke took a step towards me, then held out his arms. "Can I hug you?"

  I blinked owlishly. "Uh, sure. Of course."

  He wrapped his arms around me. I leaned into him, treasuring the closeness. It was such a simple thing, a friendly gesture, but it felt different this time. The energy was shifting. Or maybe it was my imagination.

  After a moment, he released me, and I stepped back.

  "Merry Christmas, Chloe," he said, smiling softly.

  I couldn't help but smile too. "Merry Christmas, Luke."

  With that, he walked off the porch and headed down the driveway. I watched him leave, feeling an odd sense of melancholy. A part of me wished he could stay. I shook my head and turned to walk inside.

  I made my way upstairs, the sound of my footsteps echoing on the hardwood. I entered my bedroom and closed the door behind me. My mind was buzzing with all sorts of thoughts. I set my camera down on my desk and flopped onto my bed. I'd unpack the photos tomorrow. For now, I was ready to let my eyes close and sleep take over.

  The next day, Monday, Oceanside High's winter break officially began. On the same day, the Academy's final exam week had also started. Four of my five classes would be testing this week. Field Endurance was the only exception, as the class had its own unique method of measuring the students' abilities. I spent all of my free time during the week before preparing. First up was Senior Magic Study I.

  Kadia walked me to school that afternoon. I hadn't asked her to, but I didn't protest. The air between us was still a bit awkward. There was an unspoken barrier between us. I wondered how long it would last.

  "Are you feeling confident about the exam?" she asked as we neared the Academy gates.

  "More or less," I replied, shrugging.

  "What are you most nervous about?"

  I glanced at her. "Uh, failing, for starters. And forgetting the specific effects of hand poses on casting. There's too many to count."

  "True, but every one falls into a category. Pointing affects accuracy. Tension affects power. Movement affects speed. Direction affects range. It's important to remember the general categories, and the details will fall into place."

  I did my best to absorb her advice. "Thanks."

  "It is intuitive, really. Try not to overthink your answers."

  "Yeah, that's the problem," I sighed. "I'm always thinking. My brain is like, always running, always processing, always wondering. And it's exhausting. Now that I'm not as impulsive anymore, it's like my brain can't shut up. The thoughts don't go away, just the actions that accompany them."

  She glanced at me, her eyes sympathetic. "You're still growing. You will find your balance."

  I gave her a small smile. "Thanks, Kadia."

  We arrived at the entrance. Kadia left me to enter the main building alone. As I walked the halls, a familiar anxiety returned. I met up with Shaye, and the two of us reviewed our notes as we waited for the bell.

  "How are you feeling?" she asked, looking over her flashcards.

  "Okay. Nervous."

  She admitted, "Me too. But we've prepared. We'll be all right."

  I nodded. She was right, we'd prepared. We knew our stuff. But I was still nervous.

  The bell rang, and we made our way to Professor Jakklo's class. The desks were arranged in rows, facing the front of the classroom. We placed our bags on the ground, then settled into our seats. A minute later, Mr. Jakklo entered the room.

  "Afternoon, everyone." He walked over to the podium at the front. "Let's begin. This exam will last two hours. Please try to complete every question. If you have any queries or need clarification, please raise your hand. Otherwise, I expect you to work quietly and independently."

  The room was silent. Our professor snapped his fingers, and a tall stack of papers floated up from his desk, hovering in mid-air. The pages fluttered as the stack flew down each aisle, depositing a packet of paper face-down on every desk.

  "Begin," he instructed.

  I flipped over the packet. There was a section for each of the five subjects. Magic was divided into four sub-sections: theory, history, spells, and techniques. Then, there was another section for Elemental Mastery, which was broken down into the six elements. My gaze drifted over the pages, taking it all in. Then, I looked at the clock. No problem. I took a deep breath and began writing.

  Exactly like my Earth finals, Emiarhian exams usually took place on the same days the classes were taught. This meant that I had Tuesday off, as well as Wednesday with everyone else. I didn't do much on Tuesday, other than regular training. On Wednesday, I studied for Advanced Potions I in the Academy's library with Shaye, Ashkan, and Viktor. Studying with friends always had its perks and downsides. It was easier to remember material, but the conversations were frequent and distracting. We tried our best to stay focused, but we'd take study breaks when needed.

  "What's the point of freeze-drying roots?" Viktor asked, turning a page in his textbook. "Is it supposed to taste better or something?"

  "No," Ashkan replied with a laugh. "It's the same thing as drying herbs and spices. Freeze-drying increases shelf-life and potency."

  Viktor scrunched his nose. "What's the difference between freeze-drying and drying?"

  Shaye explained, "Freeze-drying sucks out the moisture using low-temperature sublimation. Drying uses high temperatures. So, the plant material may have different molecular structures after."

  Viktor groaned and pressed his palms to his temples. "Why do we need to know all this super specific, nit-picky rubbish? It's potions. Just follow the recipe!"

  "I think you're missing the point," I commented.

  Ashkan nodded. "The point of these exams is not to memorize."

  "Then what's the point?" Viktor threw up his hands.

  "To challenge the student's comprehension, application, and critical thinking skills," I replied, quoting my Potions textbook.

  He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "That's it. I'm doomed."

  "Hey, self-fulfilling prophecy, Vik," Ashkan warned. "Don't jinx it."

  Shaye giggled, patting Victor's shoulder. "We've still got a day. Don't lose hope yet."

  Viktor gave her a look that carried some subtle affection. "Easy for you to say. You're a genius."

  "I'm not a genius," she corrected. "Geniuses are very rare. I just pay attention."

  "Same difference," he muttered.

  "You're smart, too," I told him. "I've seen it. You're great at identifying potion ingredients. And you have good instincts. You just work a little too fast sometimes."

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  "Yeah, yeah. ...Thanks."

  We continued studying, going over the material one more time. Brewing potions was much more complicated than throwing together a few ingredients and mixing them around. It involved preparation, planning, timing, precision, and a healthy dose of patience. It wasn't a super difficult subject, but it was tedious, and the information was dense.

  After a few more hours, we packed up and left the library. Viktor was ready for a nap. The rest of us weren't far behind. We split up, heading for our respective houses. We didn't bother notifying our guards that we were out, naturally.

  I waved goodbye to Shaye. "See you tomorrow!"

  She waved back, flashing a tired smile. "Bye."

  Ashkan gave a quick salute. "Later."

  The two of us watched Shaye enter her house. Once she was gone, Ashkan and I strolled together down the sidewalk. The sun was just beginning to set, and the sky was filled with streaks of violet and pink. The streets were mostly empty, with only the occasional carriage driving past. We made light conversation about the exams and what we were doing for the rest of the day.

  When we reached his house closer to the forest, he turned to me. "Can we talk about something quickly?"

  "Sure," I replied, my eyebrows raising. "What's up?"

  He glanced around and checked if anyone was within earshot. "Have you noticed anything, um, strange with Shaye lately?"

  "Define strange."

  "Distracted. Quiet. Less energetic than usual. Kind of out of it. It's not noticeable every day, but she's definitely not acting like herself."

  I thought for a moment. "Hm. Well, it's exam season. Maybe she's stressed."

  "Maybe," he agreed, looking unconvinced.

  "Well, if there's something else going on, she'll tell us."

  Ashkan's shoulders sagged. "Yeah, I know. She always tells me. And I'm not worried. Not exactly. Just a bit concerned."

  I nodded. "I get that. Hopefully it won't persist after finals. I don't really want to bring it up now and make her self-conscious about it. That's the last thing she needs."

  "Let's keep an eye on her. Just in case," he suggested.

  "Def–"

  Before I could finish my thought, my focus was dragged away by a strong pins-and-needles sensation radiating from my left pinky finger. On it was the signet ring Perl had sent me several days ago. The somewhat heavy, flawless band of golden metal was flattened into a circle in the centre. Tiny runes were etched along the inside, reading 'light', 'heal', 'see', and 'bond', among others. The outer face of the band displayed an emblem carved into the disc: the League's insignia of an intricate sun. However, this sigil hadn't appeared until now. It was glowing a bright, traffic-light red.

  I stood still, panicking internally. Ashkan and I had only joined the League four days ago. Perl was requesting our help. How was this happening already? What if I wasn't ready? What if I let everyone down?

  "Uh oh..." Ashkan stared at my ring. He pulled down the collar of his jacket and fished out his own signet ring, strung on a leather cord. The metal was pulsing, a vibrant red.

  "What do we do?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

  "I guess we...go." He sounded as hesitant as I felt. "Unless you have something else important planned."

  "Nope." My heart was racing. "Let's do it."

  "Let's get out of the open first."

  We walked around the corner, heading down a narrow side street between two tall stone buildings. We stopped and faced each other.

  "You sure about this?" he asked.

  My throat was dry. "Not at all."

  He took a deep breath, then looked me in the eye. "Ready?"

  I nodded, my pulse quickening.

  "I'll go first." He held out his ring.

  The band glowed brighter, as if responding. Ashkan pressed his thumb and index finger around the rim. His body became fuzzy and blurred like he was covered in static. The edges of his form shimmered and shook, rippling like a disturbed pond. Then, in a flash of silver-gold light, he was gone.

  "Here goes nothing," I muttered to myself, holding up my left hand. I took a deep breath, then squeezed the gold with my fingers, bracing myself for whatever came next.

  A sudden gust of wind hit my face. A bright white light flashed before my eyes, and then my vision was flooded with blinding whiteness. The ground shifted beneath me. I stumbled, struggling to keep my balance. My head spun. It felt like someone had yanked a rug out from under me. My ears were ringing.

  The light quickly faded. My vision cleared, and I regained my balance. I found myself in a new environment. My clothes had been switched out, and my hair was tied back into a long braid. I had on a fitted, black duster coat that went down past my knees. The collar stood straight up, and the front was fastened with large metal clasps. An elbow-length capelet hung from the back. Underneath the coat, I wore grey breeches, black knee-high boots with treaded soles, a white high-collared blouse, and a navy vest. Long, white gloves with miniscule, golden embroidery on the knuckles covered my hands. The pinky ring sat over the fabric.

  My usual weapons were harnessed to me with black straps and silver hardware, hidden beneath the duster. A dark grey scarf obscured the lower half of my face. And just like every other hunter, a wide-brimmed hat made of black leather sat atop my head, tilted downwards. A small pin of the League's insignia was fastened to the side of the crown. I'd calibrated the outfit days prior, when I'd received my ring, but I'd never actually tried it out. The ring's magic didn't synthesize these articles or create copies of my weapons, but rather summoned them onto my person from where they resided normally, whether it be the Rime Guard training grounds or my closet at Kadia's house. They'd be returned when I'd come back.

  Ashkan was standing nearby, adjusting the laces on his boots. His appearance was similar to mine, with the only identical pieces being the hat, the pin, and the gloves. I didn't think I would've recognized him if not for those. He wore a dark brown coat that was a bit shorter than mine and had a split in the back. His scarf was a deep burgundy. The rest of his gear was different, but all in the same kind of style as mine.

  "Where the blazes are we?" he asked, turning slowly as he took in our surroundings.

  We were in an alleyway, surrounded by brick walls on all sides. The street beyond was narrow and quiet. A single lantern hung over the entrance. The sun was barely visible above the horizon.

  "Looks like a village," I said, squinting up at the sky. "Or a small city. Doesn't feel like Winithas, though."

  Before we could look to our rings for direction, a sharp female voice interrupted us. "Hey! Over here!" A tall woman in hunter's garb was waving from the mouth of the alley. I didn't recognize her, but her horns that stuck through specialized holes in her hat looked familiar. "It's Ribbons," she clarified, walking towards us.

  I nodded, remembering her ginger pigtails. "We were just getting our bearings. Do you know where we are?"

  She chuckled. "Shialumura; isn't it obvious? A town called Lyalon, on one of the southern islands. Anyway, there's no time. Follow me. We need to go. Now."

  "Is everything okay?" Ashkan questioned. "Rather, I guess a better question would be: What's going on?"

  "I'll explain as we go," she said. "The others are waiting."

  We followed Ribbons out of the alley, then turned onto the main road. I had no idea how to navigate, so I let her take the lead. She moved swiftly, her steps light. Ashkan and I walked close behind, our boots echoing against the cobblestone. The streets were deserted. The air was cool but tepid, carrying the scent of ocean water.

  Ribbons led us down a few blocks, then turned left into another side street, using her own ring as a compass. "So, the situation is like this," she said, speaking quickly. "There's a bunch of Inkbloods holed up in a warehouse on the edge of town. They've been squatting there for months, and they've been causing some trouble. Mostly stealing, pickpocketing, stuff like that. Nothing crazy. But now, they've kidnapped a child. Holding him for ransom. They say that the parents have until tomorrow to deliver fifty thousand trooks."

  My eyes went wide. That was equivalent to about thirty thousand American dollars. "And the police haven't done anything about this?"

  Ribbons shrugged. "The parents went to them first, of course. But constables can't do anything without proof of criminal activity, or a target. The law knows about Inkbloods, but they often don't know who or where they are. These people are very good at covering their tracks. Beyond sending out a missing persons report, the police are powerless."

  "That's outrageous," Ashkan snapped.

  "We've been monitoring the situation for a few days now. We didn't want to make a move until we knew the King's hands were tied. But this formal investigation is far too slow. And the boy is running out of time," Ribbons continued, her voice grim. "His family doesn't have that kind of money. There's a deadline, and it's not a long one. But us, we don't need warrants, or permission, or paperwork. We can act, and we will. Our primary objective is to recover the child. Secondary is to apprehend any and all perpetrators. There may be some casualties. They'll likely respond with violence. Are we clear?"

  I nodded nervously. "Yes."

  "Crystal," Ashkan affirmed. "How did you find where the boy is?"

  "We have spies and connections everywhere. A witness claimed to see the Inkbloods entering and leaving this warehouse at night, around the same time the boy went missing. They've been reported to been bringing in food, which is suspicious. So, we checked the place out. We think they're keeping the boy there."

  "Why is it suspicious that they have food?" I asked, puzzled.

  Ribbons glanced at me over her shoulder as if to check that I was serious. "Inkbloods don't eat. They can, but they don't need to. They don't need to sleep, either."

  My heart skipped a beat. "Wait, what?!"

  Ashkan seemed equally as stupefied. "I thought they were just bad people. Cult members."

  Ribbons slowed down a bit so she could walk beside us. "I guess Perl never explained all that, huh? I forgot that you're so new. Inkbloods aren't living creatures. Well, technically, they are, but not in the way you think. They're undead. Immortal. Ever noticed the matching tattoos on their throats? We believe those hold some kind of dark magic keeping them alive. Or reincarnating their corpses. Hard to say. Though the cult has existed for centuries, most people aren't willing to mess with them in order to find out. The League has studied them for decades, but we don't have many answers."

  I blinked, processing her words. "Okay, wow. That's... That's a lot to take in."

  She sighed. "Welcome to the League."

  Ashkan rubbed the back of his neck. "Then, how do they get these corrupting marks? From who? Or do they mark themselves?"

  "That is the billion-trook question, good hunter," Ribbons answered. "We think that whoever is in charge is responsible for the cursing, but said person always changes over the years. So, we can't be sure who's currently sitting in that throne. The general consensus is that it's Balgaur. Inkbloods aren't the most chatty folk, though. Even when we catch them. They're immune to torture, starvation. They're not even afraid to die."

  "That's terrifying," I murmured. "But, I thought you said they can't die."

  "There are ways to destroy them. Well, one way that we know of," she explained. "Don't focus on that for now."

  We kept walking, following the street as it twisted and turned. I wondered what was in store for us. How long would this last? What if I messed up? Was I even ready? I glanced at Ashkan, who was staring ahead. He had his usual cool, collected demeanour. He was the best person I knew to have around during a crisis.

  The houses and buildings around us began to grow smaller and more rundown, and the road became less well-maintained. The sun was sinking faster, and the shadows grew longer. We passed by the occasional carriage or person. Some of the citizens watched us as we walked by, but no one approached.

  Eventually, we reached the outskirts of town, near the woods. Ribbons guided us inside a large, fenced-off lot, filled with crates and shipping containers. At the far end, there was a huge brick building, with a few small windows high up on the walls. Three other hunters were waiting for us, each with their backs facing us. The group was composed of two men and one woman. They turned at the sound of our footsteps.

  "Tonight," Ribbons began, "the usual members that circulate this area were all unavailable. That's why it was left up to us. Myself, Nine, M, and Cannon have already scouted the place and formulated a plan. We were just waiting for the rest of you. This is an urgent matter, so we need to act fast. You two remember your codenames?"

  "Deadbolt," Ashkan replied.

  "And I'm, uh, Grey," I stammered, still getting used to the idea. I had no clue why Perl decided on 'Grey', but I knew better than to question it.

  "Good," Ribbons said, nodding. "Now, here's the plan."

  We huddled around, listening closely. She explained that first, any Inkbloods occupying the exterior would need to be taken care of. M and Cannon would be responsible for that. At the same time, Ashkan and I would climb up to the rooftop and enter through the ventilation shafts, which were large enough to crawl through. We would survey the scene and try to find the hostage. Nine would enter from the ground floor and distract any other Inkbloods in the room, with Ribbons assisting. If the kidnappers refused to cooperate, and the League members were unable to resolve the conflict, then lethal force was authorized. We weren't sure where the boy was, or even if he was there, technically, but this was our best shot.

  I was terrified, but I knew I had to play my part. There was no room for failure.

  "Any questions?" Ribbons asked.

  Nine crossed his arms. "I still think I should clear the perimeter with M."

  "We already talked about this. Cannon is a better choice," she countered. "Your stealth is better suited for infiltration."

  M nudged Nine with her elbow, then signed something brief.

  "I know, I know," he grumbled.

  "Any more complaints?" Ribbons said, scanning the group. "Good. Then let's begin."

  Ashkan and I followed M and Cannon towards the back of the property. We ducked behind a row of crates, then split into two groups. Ashkan and I stayed put, watching the pair creep across the yard. M held a bow, and Cannon had heavy gauntlets reinforced with metal. They walked behind the building, disappearing out of view. Ashkan and I stood, our backs pressed against the cold wood of the crate. He peered around the corner, checking if the coast was clear. A few seconds later, we heard distant noises of a struggle, then silence.

  "Let's move," Ashkan whispered, and I nodded.

  We walked silently, sticking to the shadows. We reached the base of the building and found a rusty ladder leading up to the roof. It was missing rungs and had only one long pole. It seemed like a death trap. There was no way we could scale the brick, though.

  Ashkan grabbed the ladder, testing its strength. The metal groaned, and we cringed at the sound. He turned back to me and shook his head. Then, he shrugged, bent his knees slightly, and leapt up into the air. He cleared the entire height, landing gracefully on the top of the building. I couldn't believe my eyes. He looked down and gave me a thumbs-up. Of course... Aerokinesis.

  I took a deep breath, then did the same, jumping off the ground and soaring upwards. Two pillars of air rose underneath my feet. I shot up to the roof faster than I'd intended to and landed on the slanted shingles with a loud thud. I fell forward, nearly tumbling off. Ashkan caught my arm, pulling me back.

  "Careful," he hissed.

  "I got it, I got it," I mumbled, straightening myself up.

  We froze for a moment, waiting to see if anyone below had heard. Nothing happened. The coast was clear. We moved quietly, crouching as we walked. Our feet made soft crunching noises, and the metal on our harnesses and gear clinked softly. We reached the ventilation shaft, and Ashkan knelt down. I did the same. He pressed his palms onto the grille, and with a barely visible flash of yellow light, it popped off. He set it gently to the side.

  "Looks like they forgot to magic-proof this," he noted, raising an eyebrow.

  "Lucky us," I whispered, trying not to smile.

  Ashkan took the lead. I followed closely behind. I crawled slowly, not wanting to make a noise. We were moving in total darkness. The only sounds were our breathing and the rustling of our clothes. After a minute or two, I started to worry that we were lost. The shaft was twisting and turning in ways I hadn't expected. It was hard to tell if we were actually going anywhere.

  Suddenly, a dim light appeared ahead. Ashkan and I slowed our pace. A minute later, the tunnel widened, and we were looking down into a large room, about forty feet down, through a small grille.

  "Holy shit," I whispered.

  A crowd of Inkbloods, presumably, stood below. There were maybe fifteen, twenty of them, gathered together, speaking amongst themselves. Some were sitting on crates, others were pacing around. They all wore simple, dark clothes, and their faces were uncovered. Everyone's necks were not, interestingly enough. Whether it was a scarf, collar, or choker made of thick metal, they all had some kind of barrier.

  The room was packed with random odds and ends. Broken pieces of furniture, old boxes and trunks, tools and weapons. It was difficult to tell if the Inkbloods were actually living there, or simply using the place as storage. No sign of a child.

  I felt a tap on my shoulder. Ashkan was pointing further down the vent, indicating that we should keep moving. I nodded.

  We crept onward, staying low. Ashkan stopped at another grille and looked down. I leaned forward, peering over his shoulder. The room was empty, save for a single Inkblood, lying on a cot. He was reading a book.

  I looked over at Ashkan, confused. Wasn't the kid supposed to be in here? We'd been searching for minutes, and nothing. How big was this place? He motioned for us to keep going. We had a job to do. We moved carefully, and I could feel the anxiety growing.

  After crawling through a few more tunnels, we arrived at yet another opening. This one was a bit different. It was much narrower, and there were bars over the grille. Below us was a small space, with a single person occupying it. A boy. He sat, curled up in a ball, his face pressed against his knees. His wrists and ankles were bound, and a sack covered his head.

  We'd found him.

  My heart began to race. "What should we do?" I whispered.

  Ashkan shook his head. "Nothing yet. Not until they're here."

  He was right, unfortunately. We needed to wait until the other members were in position. We had no choice. The boy hadn't moved, but he was shivering. He was probably scared out of his mind. I wanted to tell him that everything would be okay, but I had no way of doing that without giving away our position. All we could do was watch.

  A few minutes later, we heard noises coming from the ground floor. People were running. Someone shouted, "Hunters! Hunters!"

  The boy's head lifted, and he perked up. Footsteps echoed down the hall. Then, the door to his prison burst open, and the Inkblood who'd been reading stepped in, his book now gone.

  "Hey," he barked, glaring at the boy.

  "Please, please, let me go," the boy begged, his voice high-pitched. "I'm sorry. I won't tell anyone, I promise."

  "Shut up, wretch," the man snapped, grabbing the boy by his arms and pulling him up. The boy cried out, his body going stiff. The Inkblood threw the sack off the boy's head. My breath hitched. He couldn't have been more than five years old.

  "Don't touch me!" the boy cried, kicking at his captor.

  "Or what, huh?" the man sneered, grabbing the boy by his hair. He undid the rope around the boy's wrists, and the kid immediately tried to push him away, but the shackles were soon replaced with magical ones. The boy's hands glowed, and his wrists were pulled together. His ankles soon bore the same manacles. The Inkblood picked the boy up and slung him over his shoulder, and the child kicked and struggled, shrieking.

  The man carried him out, closing the door behind him. The boy was screaming, and it hurt to listen to. But we had to let it happen. Ashkan and I hurried forward, following them through the vents, farther into the warehouse. Behind us, the sounds of the struggle continued, but I forced myself to block it out. Gunshots, clangs of metal, yells, shouts. There were so many people, so much chaos. I hoped the others were okay.

  We stopped when we reached a large open space, about twice the size of the previous one. This was clearly where they stored all the equipment and supplies. Crates, barrels, sacks, chests, and shelves lined the walls. Rope, nets, and chains were hanging from the ceiling, swaying slightly. A handful of Inkbloods were standing by the door, arguing amongst themselves. The boy was crying, begging his captor to let him go. The man ignored him, setting him down on a chair.

  "Now," the man said, turning to his fellow cultists, "which one of you snitched?"

  The other Inkbloods paused, staring at him. They exchanged nervous glances, their heads tilting and shrugging.

  "Well?" he said, raising his voice. "Did you cretins even think to check for spies? Are you that incompetent?!"

  The woman closest to him raised her hands defensively. "We were careful."

  "Then who saw us?!" the first Inkblood demanded, taking a step forward. "You must have botched something somewhere!"

  She shook her head. "We did everything right, I swear. I don't know how–"

  "Shut your mouth, you tart!" he roared, slapping her across the face. She staggered backwards, clutching her cheek. The rest of the group stared blankly. I felt a rush of anger and had to fight back the urge to jump down.

  "Please," the boy sobbed, sniffling. "I wanna go home."

  The man turned his attention back to him. "Your father won't pay up, so you're staying here until he does."

  "But my mummy's gonna be worried," the boy whimpered. "She doesn't know where I am."

  "She should've thought about that before she married a poor fool like him," the man growled. "And now she's paying for her mistakes."

  I gritted my teeth. This guy was such a fuckhead. I'd never encountered a more despicable, violent person. His words, his tone, his behaviour. It made me want to hurl.

  Suddenly, we heard a loud crashing sound, followed by a shout. Then, there was gunfire. The Inkbloods tensed, reaching for their weapons.

  "They're by the stairs!" one of them noted.

  The leader cursed loudly. "Take them out. Don't let anyone up here."

  The remaining five of them dashed towards the source of the commotion, leaving the boy alone with the leader. I felt conflicted. Should we try and free the kid right away, or wait for the League members to arrive? I was worried that the Inkblood would harm him, but I was also worried that the other four hunters needed backup. This room was at the end of the hallway. The vent didn't lead any further. There was only one door, and no windows. By jumping down, we could trap ourselves.

  I looked at Ashkan, silently asking him what we should do. He gestured for us to move back. I hesitated but did as he instructed. I didn't like it, but we had to stick with the plan.

  We crept away, returning to the first room. Ribbons and Nine were already inside, fighting off several Inkbloods. A few other of their bodies lay on the floor. M and Cannon were nowhere to be seen. Blood was splattered everywhere. I'd never seen such violence. The room was a complete wreck, furniture overturned, debris scattered about. I tried not to stare too long.

  "Grey, Deadbolt," Ribbons called out, fending off an attack with her shield. "Could use some help!"

  Ashkan didn't waste a second. He blast open the vent grille, sending shrapnel flying, then jumped down. I followed suit, landing next to him.

  "What are you waiting for, newbie?!" Nine yelled, ducking a punch. "Get your head in the game!"

  I blinked. "Right, sorry!"

  We leapt into the fray, attacking the Inkbloods. In a way, it was kind of comforting to know that they weren't human. Not exactly, anyway. But they still bled like humans. And felt pain like them. And screamed like them. It was all the more horrifying, knowing that these things had once been normal people, like me.

  Ashkan and I worked together, trying to take them down as quickly as possible. The room was tight, which made it hard to fight effectively. One Inkblood was able to corner me, and I panicked. He swung at me with his sword, but I blocked the attack with my staff. We struggled for a moment before he managed to kick me in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me.

  I stumbled back, gasping for air. Before he could follow up, however, Ribbons jumped in and stabbed him through the throat. The blade pierced his neck, and his blood spurted out, spraying all over her. She grimaced before yanking her weapon free. I immediately felt like throwing up.

  Another Inkblood came running, aiming a dagger at Ashkan. He sidestepped the attack, then grabbed the man's arm and twisted it behind his back. The Inkblood dropped the knife. Ashkan kicked the man's legs, forcing him to kneel. Large, mossy roots erupted from the ground, wrapping around the Inkblood's torso and pinning him to the floorboards. He flailed helplessly, unable to break free.

  Distracted, I was soon caught off guard by an incoming attack. An Inkblood had managed to sneak up behind me and grab me by the neck. He shoved me against the wall, knocking the air out of my lungs. I couldn't breathe. His grip tightened, and I choked. I tried to pry his hands away, but his hold was too strong. Black spots began to cloud my vision. Everything was getting blurry.

  Is it killing if they aren't alive?

  I don't want to kill.

  I don't.

  I-I can't.

  The thought echoed in my mind. The voices were louder than ever. They were screaming. Demanding that I act. It was me or him. It was either me or him. There was no third option.

  The Inkblood brandished an axe, keeping one large hand around my throat. I gasped for air, clawing at his fingers. He laughed. He was enjoying this. Enjoying seeing me suffer. I hated him. I hated him so much. The cold blade rested on my temple. Slowly, deliberately, he pushed on it. The metal dug into my skin, then dragged downwards. Down, down, down. My head felt like it was splitting in twain. I cried out through gritted teeth. My vision began to darken.

  The voices were unbearable.

  They were roaring.

  They were chanting.

  Now.

  NOW!

  I reached towards my side. Towards the harness. Towards the revolver. I pulled the gun from its holster. Without thinking, I raised the barrel and fired. The bullet struck the Inkblood's head. Not a magic bullet, but a normal one. I just barely saw the hole appear in his forehead before shutting my eyes. The Inkblood's body slumped. His grip slackened, and he fell backwards, collapsing on the ground. I was trembling. I was hyperventilating. Blood dripped from the brim of my hat. I refused to look at the body. My stomach churned.

  I scanned the room, my breath normalizing. The last two Inkbloods were engaged with the other League members. Ribbons was locked in combat with a woman. She was fast, but Ribbons was faster. Nine was busy handling the other, a man wielding a rapier.

  My pulse was pounding through my ears. It felt like someone had just injected adrenaline straight into my veins. Everything was happening so fast. My mind was moving at the speed of light. I couldn't keep up. I needed to stay calm. To focus. To keep moving. I couldn't afford to panic. I couldn't let them see me fall apart. Not now. Not here.

  It wasn't even five seconds after the last cultist fell that Cannon sprinted into the room. He looked around, breathing heavily. "We have a situation," he said, wiping the sweat from his brow.

  "What's going on?" Ribbons asked.

  "M," he replied, "she's been hurt. We need to get her out."

  Nine wiped the blood off his glove and stepped forward, his expression furious. "Where is she?!"

  "Calm down," Cannon ordered, holding out a hand. "We need to handle this rationally."

  "Screw rational," Nine spat, glaring daggers. "You left her to die? Again?"

  "It's not like that," Cannon protested. "You know I'd never do that."

  "No, I don't. You did it before, remember?"

  "That was a long time ago."

  "Yeah, well, it doesn't seem like you've changed one bit."

  The two men glared at each other, neither backing down. Nine was shaking, his fists clenched tightly. Cannon stood firm, unwavering. The former shoved the latter – or attempted to, really – before storming out of the room. Cannon was too brawny to budge.

  He tailed Nine. "You can't just run off on your own."

  "Piss off!" Nine shouted, his voice echoing.

  When they were gone, Ribbons sighed. "They can take care of her just fine. Anyway, remember when I mentioned being able to destroy Inkbloods? This is how." She walked over to the nearest body, pulled out a dagger, and kneeled. "First, remove anything covering their neck." She cut through the scarf around the man's throat. "See the line within the tattoo? Sever that. Doesn't have to be a deep cut, just a clean slice."

  Reluctantly, I stepped closer to observe. The tattoo design was familiar. It was a hexagon with a small circle bisected horizontally by the hexagon's bottom line. Only the top half of the circle was black. The lines were intricate, detailed. And yet, they seemed crude and ugly. Like a cheap imitation of real art. Ribbons made a swift cut along that particular section, where the circle was divided.

  A drop of blood trickled down from the wound. At first, nothing happened. But then, the cut began to sizzle. The corpse's skin melted away without flame, but instead of revealing flesh and bone, it revealed...nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a skeleton. I stared in disbelief.

  "They're empty," Ribbons explained, standing back up. She began circling the room, repeating the process on every other fallen Inkblood. "Once you cut their connection, they melt. Like ice."

  I stared at her, then back down at the first corpse. She was right. Where there had been a body, now there was nothing but a shrinking puddle of viscous, black goo. It was...weird. Very weird. I didn't understand. It didn't make sense. Nothing about it did.

  Ribbons shrugged, putting her dagger away. "Don't think too hard about it. Just slit their necks, if you can. Or let us do it. Whatever you're comfortable with. Now, let's go–"

  She was cut off by the sound of a loud crash. It came from the floor below. The ceiling shuddered, and a cloud of dust fell. Something had collapsed. Or exploded. Whatever it was, it didn't sound good.

  Cannon's booming voice rang out. "Ribbons! We've got company!"

  She glanced at me and Ashkan. "Keep searching for the boy. We'll handle this." Without another word, she ran off.

  I stood there, frozen in place. Everything was happening so quickly. My mind was racing. My body wouldn't respond. My heart was beating frantically. It was deafening. I couldn't think straight. Everything was a blur.

  Ashkan grabbed me by the shoulder. "Two against one. We can take him."

  I looked at him. His eyes were filled with determination. I could feel the energy emanating from him. He was confident. He was ready. He knew what needed to be done.

  "Are you sure?" I asked, hesitant.

  He nodded. "Positive."

  The two of us made our way out of the room, heading down the corridor. We crept along, sticking close to the walls. There was barely any light in here. We could hear sounds coming from the floor beneath us. Sounds of fighting. Shouting. We arrived at the last chamber. I just hoped the kid was still inside.

  Ashkan and I peeked around the doorway. The Inkblood who'd taken the child was standing there with his back to us. The boy was curled up in a ball on the floor, crying, but otherwise unharmed. The leader couldn't have cared less. He was preoccupied with the book he was reading.

  "What are you waiting for?" the Inkblood demanded, not bothering to turn. "Come on in."

  I froze. Was he talking to us? Or someone else? I glanced at Ashkan, confused. He shrugged.

  "Don't be shy," the man continued, setting the book down. "I won't bite. Probably."

  Slowly, carefully, I stepped into the room, followed closely by Ashkan. The boy looked up. Tears streamed down his face. His eyes widened. He scrambled away as best he could with bound ankles and wrists, terrified.

  The leader turned, his grin widening. "Ah, finally. The vent-crawlers. Come to join the party, have we?"

  Now that we were closer, I could get a good look at this monster. He was tall and muscular, easily towering over me. Identical to every other Inkblood I'd seen thus far, his irises were a distinct, dark, purplish-onyx colour. Also synonymous with his brethren were winding patterns of scarcely perceptible, dark, vein-like marks on his skin. His hair was slicked back, his teeth crooked. His face was scarred, and his nose had obviously been broken multiple times. He was clad in heavy armour, with a cloak around his shoulders. He was intimidating, to say the least.

  A jolt of anxiety shot through me. How did he know we'd been up in the vents?

  "Well?" he pressed, crossing his arms. "Speak up."

  "Give the kid back," Ashkan demanded. "He's not involved in any of this."

  "Oh, but he is. His father is."

  "Let him go."

  The man chuckled. "You think you can make demands, boy? You have no power here."

  Ashkan took a step forward, his axe held firmly. "I won't ask again."

  "Such courage!" the Inkblood commented, raising an eyebrow. "But foolishness, too."

  Before we could react, he lunged, striking at Ashkan. A large scythe appeared in his hand, its blade shimmering faintly. Ashkan dodged, narrowly avoiding a slash. He swung his axe. The Inkblood ducked under the blow, and Ashkan overextended. The cultist seized the opportunity, jabbing his weapon forward. Ashkan barely managed to avoid it. He recovered quickly, however, and blocked the next strike with his shield. The Inkblood pushed harder, forcing him back. The scythe was longer, which allowed the leader to keep a distance.

  Meanwhile, I ran over to the young boy. His skin was pale, his lips trembling. I knelt beside him. "Don't worry, we're here to help." He didn't respond. He just kept staring at me. I could see the fear in his eyes. "What's your name, bud?"

  "D-Davie," he stammered.

  I smiled, but remembered he couldn't see it. "Nice to meet you, Davie. My name's Grey. We're gonna get you outta here, okay?"

  "Promise?" he whispered.

  "Promise," I assured him. "I know you're scared, but I need you to be brave, all right? Can you be brave with me?"

  "'Kay..." he whimpered.

  I reached down towards his ankles, still bound tightly in magical rope. Every unbinding spell I knew didn't work. Trying to cut through it would be like trying to slice diamond. The only way I could free him was with brute force on the knots. But as soon as my fingers touched the rope, a sharp, intense pain shot through my hand. I jerked back with a yelp. The rope burned. It was burning me. How was that possible? Even if I could've just picked him up and made a run for it, there was no way the cords wouldn't singe through my clothing.

  Davie flinched. "I-I'm sorry!"

  "No, it's okay," I told him, rubbing my palm. It was like touching flame mixed with sticking a fork in an outlet. "Ow... I'm okay."

  I turned my attention back to the fight. Ashkan was struggling to keep the Inkblood at bay. The cultist was skilled, using his weapon to keep Ashkan on the defensive. The two of them moved around the room, their blows colliding with resounding force. Ashkan's shield was holding up well.

  Suddenly, the Inkblood leapt forward, striking at Ashkan's head. He blocked the attack but was unable to counter the next swing. The scythe tore into his arm. He stumbled backwards, clutching his elbow. Blood seeped through his sleeve.

  Anger flared within me. My hand flew outwards, and from it, a torrent of light erupted. The cable of glowing energy shot through the air, wrapping itself around the cultist's arm. "Leave him alone!"

  The man was yanked backwards, thrown off balance. He tumbled, landing hard on his side, then sat up. He glanced at his arm. The cord was still coiled around it. He tried to shake it off, but it wouldn't budge. I clenched my fist, squeezing tighter. He winced.

  "How's it feel, huh?" I snapped, marching towards him.

  The Inkblood chuckled despite his obvious discomfort. "That's the best you can do? A little golden thread?"

  I said nothing. Instead, I twisted my fist. From the cord burst hundreds of tiny crystals. They embedded themselves into the Inkblood's arm, drawing blood instantly.

  "Enough!" the man shouted.

  He swung his scythe, and a gust of wind exploded from it. I was blasted backwards, slamming against the wall. The impact knocked the air from my lungs. The rope vanished. As I gasped for breath, the Inkblood stood, dusting himself off.

  "I grow weary of this. Time to end this little game." He lifted his weapon, aiming at me.

  Before he could make a move, Ashkan lunged. He tackled the cultist, sending them both tumbling. They crashed onto the ground. The leader snarled, pushing Ashkan off him. His scythe had skidded to the far end of the room, well out of his reach. He scrambled to his feet. Ashkan did the same.

  Finally managing to stand, I grabbed my revolver and aimed it at the Inkblood. He was moving too fast, though. There was no way I could land a shot. I didn't want to risk hitting Ash. Scrapping that idea, I holstered the gun and aimed my fingers towards the leader's scythe. A beam of magic shot out, blasting the weapon. It exploded in a flash of fire and smoke, pieces of metal scattering across the floor. I was incredibly lucky that it didn't possess an anti-breakage charm.

  The Inkblood spun around, facing me. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. "You!"

  A bolt of black energy launched towards me. I rolled aside, narrowly dodging the projectile. Whatever that was, that kind of magic was wholly unfamiliar to me. Not the type of spell I'd ever learned. It hit the wall, blasting a hole through it. I stared, wide-eyed. If it had struck me, it would've killed me.

  Without his scythe, the Inkblood had no choice but to rely on his hands. He thrust them outwards, and tendrils of murk shot forwards. I threw up a barrier at the last second. The darkness collided with it but didn't break through. He kept going, and the force became too much. My shield shattered. I had to duck under the oncoming attacks.

  As the Inkblood advanced, his hands began to glow a bright purple. They were pulsating with energy. Whatever he was doing, it was powerful. I got the feeling that, if those hands came in contact with me, I'd be dead.

  Ashkan saw this, too, and charged. He was about to slam into the Inkblood's side when, suddenly, a large figure dropped down from above. Cannon landed in a crouch, his fists clenched. He spun, and a mighty punch connected with the Inkblood's gut. The cultist was sent flying, his body crashing into the wall.

  Cannon stood, cracking his knuckles. "Good work, kid."

  "I had him…" Ashkan replied, his tone slightly annoyed.

  I stared, stunned. "Where the hell were you?!"

  "Dealing with some cult backup downstairs," Cannon answered. "Took a bit, but they're done for."

  The leader coughed and spat up a mouthful of blood. He pushed himself upright, his body trembling. The impact had cracked his armour.

  "Stay down," Cannon warned, raising his metal-covered fists. "I ain't afraid to hit ya again."

  "Do your worst, mortal," the Inkblood hissed. He extended a hand towards us. An orb of black magic formed. It expanded rapidly, and then exploded, a shockwave rippling through the air. All three of us were knocked back. The room shook, and rubble rained down from above. I managed to roll with the fall.

  Ribbons appeared in the doorway. "We've got a problem!"

  "What is it now?!" Cannon groaned, picking himself up.

  "More Inkbloods! Lots more! We need to get out of here. They've sent out some kind of signal to the surrounding areas!"

  He pounded his fist into his palm. "Bloody perfect."

  As if on cue, more cultists entered the room. A dozen, at least. More than enough to overwhelm us. Ribbons and Cannon were strong, but this was getting ridiculous.

  The leader stood, grinning wickedly. "Looks like it's time for the grand finale."

  I looked around frantically, trying to come up with a plan. There was nowhere to hide, and no way to escape. The only thing I could think of was to make a break for it. Get the kid and run.

  While Ribbons and Cannon did their best to distract the horde, Ashkan and I ran over to Davie. He was crying uncontrollably, shaking violently.

  "It's gonna be okay," I told him, trying to keep my voice steady.

  "Just hang tight," Ashkan added.

  I looked at him. "The ropes are super enchanted. I can't undo them, and they burn if you touch them. They'll sear right through our clothes."

  "Can you cut through them with your magic?"

  "If I try, it'll take forever. These aren't normal."

  He squinted. We were running out of time. "I have an idea."

  I watched as he reached towards the magic shackles, stopping mere inches away. The space around them began to distort. It looked like a heat haze. Then, a small, spherical barrier appeared around Davie's ankles, covering the ropes.

  Ashkan cast another around the boy's wrists. "These might not hold for long."

  "Oh, good thinking!" I exclaimed.

  With the protective barriers in place, Ashkan picked up the kid. He was still bound, but the shields would prevent any more damage. We turned to face the scene. The cultists were advancing, their weapons drawn. Ribbons and Cannon were holding their own, but it was only a matter of time. There was no way we could reach the door. We'd never get past all of them.

  Before either of us thought of a solution, the Inkblood leader lunged at us, his hand outstretched. Dark energy crackled between his fingers. I reacted instinctively, throwing a barrier around the three of us. The spell collided with the transparent wall, blowing a massive hole in it.

  "You cannot run," the cultist growled. "You will not leave this place alive!"

  "Watch me," I replied, firing a lightning bolt from my fingers. It struck him square in the chest and knocked him back. He stumbled but didn't fall.

  "Enough of this!" the man yelled. He spun around, his cape fluttering dramatically. His eyes began to glow, as did his hands. A sinister aura surrounded him. Black fog poured from his palms. A shadowy, oppressive energy was radiating from him. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen before.

  Cannon was busy keeping the other cultists away. He couldn't help us. And Ribbons had her own problems to deal with. I squared my shoulders, preparing myself. But the leader didn't go for me. Or Ashkan. He went for the child.

  "There is a debt to be repaid! The boy's father is a coward. And so are you!" he yelled.

  "Stop!" I shouted, firing another spell. The Inkblood deflected it with ease.

  Ashkan put a magical shield between them, protecting Davie. The leader laughed, and his dark power lashed out, tearing through the air. The magical assault continued, relentlessly bashing against his protective shell. Ashkan grimaced, struggling to keep his footing. It was like trying to stop a train. The Inkblood was relentless. Ashkan was strong, but the pressure was immense. His feet began sliding backwards. It wouldn't be long until his strength gave out.

  I had to help. I couldn't just stand there and do nothing.

  Summoning every ounce of power within me, I gathered my strength and launched an attack. A blast of silver-gold magic shot forward, striking the cultist's shoulder. He was pushed about a dozen feet back. His assault ceased. Ashkan dropped to one knee, gasping for air. Davie continued to cry.

  A wave of dizziness swept over me. I had to fight it. I couldn't lose focus. The Inkblood stared at his shoulder. There was a large burn mark; a singed patch of flesh. The fabric was torn. Blood trickled down his arm. He slowly looked up. His expression was murderous. I readied my twin blades. If he wanted a fight, I'd give him one. He marched forward, his teeth clenched. My legs felt like jelly. But I didn't back down. I couldn't. This monster would not lay a hand on that kid.

  As soon as he was within range, I lashed out. But he jumped away. To my horror, he didn't aim for me. Locking his eyes with mine, he went for Ashkan, who was still on one knee.

  I couldn't reach them in time. I tried. I tried to block the strike. I tried to stop it. But my magic reserves were running low. Everything happened so quickly. The cultist swung his arm down. Vines of shadow coiled around Ashkan and Davie. They grabbed the former's ankles first, causing the both of them to topple over. The dark tendrils suspended them upside-down as they were yanked into the air.

  I froze. The sight was horrific. Ashkan was writhing, trying desperately to free himself. They were around his arms, around his legs, around his waist. They constricted and squeezed tightly. Ashkan tried to burn away the coils, but it was useless. There were too many, and they kept coming back. They were like snakes. The more he struggled, the worse it got.

  "Let go of him!" I yelled as I slashed my enchanted blades at the base of the vines. Light magic enveloped them, cutting through the murky tendrils. It helped, but only a little. More sprouted each second.

  "Grey, take him!" Ashkan shouted, still struggling. Before I could protest leaving him behind, he dropped Davie, right before the inky cords could constrict around him.

  I dove forward, barely catching the child before he hit the ground. Time began unfurling in slow motion. I scrambled to my feet and began sprinting away. Davie was light. He clung tightly to my coat, his arms wrapped around my neck, legs around my torso. I used both arms to hold him as securely as possible. Something about the tendrils' destructive powers had broken his shackles.

  "No!" the Inkblood leader roared, slamming his foot into the floor. More of the dark roots emerged, now chasing after me.

  I dodged left and right, narrowly avoiding being snatched. The others were still battling the other cultists, their own fights raging across the room. I was headed straight for the back wall. If I couldn't dodge the next attack, the both of us would be skewered. I had no choice. I had to take the chance. As the roots surged towards me, I leapt upwards. With a mighty push, I jumped into the air, as high as I could, flipping backwards. The roots swiped beneath my feet, barely missing.

  I landed and braced myself. "Hang on!" I said to Davie, squeezing him close. He didn't respond. Just as I'd hoped, the dark vines slammed into the wall. They were embedded deep. That was my chance. I fired a beam from my fingertips, blasting a giant hole through the brick. We flew through the opening. The momentum carried us forward.

  Right as the floor disappeared from below me, I focused all my energy on breaking the fall. I couldn't afford to stick my hands out like I'd been taught to. I just had to hope my aero training paid off. I cast a powerful air spell. A cushion of wind burst beneath us, softening our landing. I skidded, but we were okay.

  I took off running. The outside air was cool. The sound of battle echoed from inside the warehouse. Shouts, blades, spells. We were far away now, but not out of the woods yet. Davie's face was buried in the crook of my neck. There was a smudge of blood on his ear. I just hoped it wasn't his own.

  "Stay with me, Davie," I mumbled, adjusting him in my arms. I needed to put more distance between us and the warehouse. We were too close.

  I didn't know where I was running to. My legs were heavy, and my lungs burned. My vision was starting to blur. But I had to press on. The Inkblood reinforcements were possibly still on their way. I needed to get somewhere safe. Somewhere far, far away from this hellish place.

  After a bit, we were deep in the slums. I stopped running. It was quiet. No sign of cultists or any other sort of threat. I didn't see anyone around. Just some shoddy-looking houses. To be safe, I used the last bit of magic I had left to vault myself up onto the roof. We landed softly.

  My breathing was laboured. My muscles were on fire. I let go of Davie and propped him up against a chimney before checking him over to make sure he wasn't hurt. He was pale, but didn't have a scratch on him. The blood was probably Ashkan's.

  "Are you okay?"

  Davie nodded, sniffling.

  "We're safe," I assured him. "It's all over. You did really good. Thanks for being brave."

  His little face twisted in despair. "Where's Mummy and Daddy?"

  "You'll see them soon, don't worry. I promise. Just sit tight for a minute, okay?"

  "Okay..."

  I turned and looked back in the direction of the warehouse. The roof was a nice vantage point. I could see the whole neighbourhood from up here. Nothing but rundown buildings and empty streets. A moment later, a loud boom sounded in the distance. I tensed. A pillar of fire shot up into the air. It was coming from the warehouse. There was a flash, and a shockwave.

  I covered my eyes. When the dust settled, I saw a cloud of smoke was rising from the area. A few minutes later, three figures emerged from the building. Other dark shapes appeared near them, fleeing left and right. I exhaled, relieved. The trio made their way towards me. I watched them walk for a while, then sat down, taking a moment to rest. The adrenaline was wearing off. The reality of what happened was setting in. I felt dazed, exhausted. I'd pushed myself to the limit.

  Not a moment too soon, Cannon, Ribbons, and Ashkan arrived near the base of the building. I whistled loudly, getting their attention. They looked up, and I waved.

  "Up here!" I called. "The kid's with me. He's okay."

  "Thank the gods," Ribbons said, putting her hands to her forehead.

  I scooped Davie up and floated my way down. My head was spinning.

  "That's a relief," Cannon sighed. "Knew ya had it in ya."

  "How is he?" Ribbons asked, approaching us.

  I replied, "He's fine. A bit shaken up, but otherwise unhurt. We should get him home, though."

  "Yeah, good idea. He's had enough excitement for one night," Ashkan noted, patting Davie's shoulder.

  I jerked my head towards the warehouse. "I saw the explosion. What happened?"

  "Not sure, but can't say I'm surprised," Cannon explained. "Must've hit a gas line or somethin'. The fire department'll handle it."

  Ribbons and Cannon took turns carrying Davie. We headed straight for his house, being careful to stay in the shadows. Some Inkbloods were still looking for us, or at least milling about. We'd passed a few of them along the way and kept our distance.

  We made it back to the outskirts without incident. A short while later, we were standing outside the door to Davie's home. Cannon set the boy down, ruffled his hair, then knocked on the door. The four of us retreated far back into the darkness. A few seconds later, it opened. A woman's head poked out. Her eyes went wide when she saw Davie. She ran forward, dropped to her knees, and pulled him into a big hug.

  "My... MY BABY!" she cried, tears streaming down her face.

  "Mummy!" He grinned.

  She rocked him back and forth while stroking his hair. "B-But, how? How did you...? Who...?"

  Davie looked up. "The people saved me! The hat people!"

  His mother scanned the area, but we were well out of sight. "Who, now? Who saved you, darling?"

  "Come on," Cannon said, nudging me. "Let's give 'em their privacy. Kid's gonna be fine."

  We nodded and walked away, heading back into town. It was completely dark out. I could hardly keep my eyes open. I was ready to sleep for a week.

  Ribbons broke the silence first. "Nice work tonight. M and Nine are already back at the nearest refuge. We've got some supplies stored there. Enough for all of us. Let's get out of these disguises and clean up."

  Nestled in a secluded spot between two large buildings was a tiny shack. It was made of wood, and the roof was covered in moss and weeds. Ribbons rapped her knuckles on the door in a certain pattern.

  A familiar voice called out, "Password?"

  "Open the bloody door, Nine," Cannon replied.

  There was a pause. "...Fine."

  The door creaked open. The shack was small, but comfortable. There was a fireplace, a table, some chairs, and a bed. A small kitchenette was built into the back wall. On the counter were a few boxes of supplies. M was resting in the bed, holding a steaming mug between her hands. She gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.

  "Took you long enough," Nine grumbled, sitting on a stool beside the bed. "Did the boy make it?"

  Cannon grinned. "Thanks to the newbie. Turns out, this one's a natural." He gestured towards me, and everyone turned their attention.

  M set down her mug on the nightstand, smiled at me, then signed over to Nine.

  He scoffed lightly. "It has nothing to do with the alignment of the stars, M."

  She gave him a pointed look before continuing.

  Nine huffed. "Fine, I'll tell 'em... She says she's happy to have you two on the team."

  "Thanks," I said, returning the smile. "Are you doing okay? I heard you got pretty hurt."

  Ribbons walked over and helped her sit up. "She's had worse. She'll be fine in a few days."

  M shook her head and made an expression as if to say, 'It's no big deal'. She laughed to herself, then signed again.

  Nine chuckled. "'You should've seen the other guy'," he translated.

  Cannon searched a cupboard, taking out a box and rummaging through it. "We should get healing, too. You know how hard it is to get blood out of wooden floors." He retrieved four small bottles and tossed them at each of us.

  "Thanks," Ashkan said, catching his and uncorking it.

  I peered at the liquid inside. "What's this?"

  "Called eriterg. S'not great, but it'll replenish some of your magic." Cannon raised his own bottle in a mock toast, then gulped the whole thing down.

  I hesitated before following suit. The potion tasted like chalk mixed with soap. But the feeling was instantaneous. Energy washed over me. It wasn't a huge amount, but it was really quite notable.

  "So, how's about a debrief?" Nine said, leaning back in his chair.

  Ribbons sat on the floor and crossed her legs. She removed her boots, placed them neatly beside her, then rolled up one pant leg. There was a thin, angry gash running from her ankle all the way up her shin. She placed her hands above it and began weaving a healing spell. "There were more of them than we'd expected. And the ones that showed up were stronger, too. They've got a lot more power than before. Not to mention, they were organized. Something's changed."

  Ashkan and I sat down at the table and placed our hats down. He looked pretty rough. Blood was caked on his clothes, some of it originating from his one arm. He didn't even seem to notice. He just drank his potion, then closed his eyes. "Yeah, those cultists were tough. Especially their leader. He was a real piece of work."

  "I'm glad you were able to hold your own," Cannon praised. He reached into a cupboard and pulled out a box full of medical supplies. Bandages, ointments, and such. "Great work, both of ya."

  I looked over at Ashkan. "Yeah, I would've never gotten Davie out without your help."

  He opened his eyes and looked at me. "Well, you saved my skin in there. Many times, actually. So, thanks."

  "Sure. Of course. That's what teammates are for."

  "Teammates, huh?" He smirked.

  "That's what we are, isn't it?"

  He laughed, but it quickly faded. "No, you're right. ...Thanks."

  I moved my chair closer to him. "Here, let me help with that." I picked up a clean, gauzy cloth and a bottle of antiseptic.

  "I'm fine," he said, shying away.

  "Really? Right, because this is the only time this will ever happen," I retorted with an eye-roll. "C'mon. I can practice my healing."

  He sighed. "If you're sure."

  "I am." I poured a little of the antiseptic solution on the cloth.

  That was one of the very few downsides of healing magic – it couldn't sanitize. If you were closing a wound shut, you needed a chemical solution to make sure there was no chance of sealing bacteria inside. It wasn't always necessary, depending on the severity, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

  "Um... Well, it would kind of be easier...if..." I trailed off.

  "If what?"

  I gestured awkwardly towards his shirt. "Without the clothes."

  "Oh. Right..." Ashkan shrugged out of his coat and unbuttoned his vest. Next, he pulled his scarf over his head and tossed it aside. He then undid the buttons on his shirt, leaving one sleeve on. There was a jagged gash running down his right shoulder. It looked painful.

  I winced. "Damn. That awful scythe."

  "Tell me about it."

  I gingerly dabbed at the cut, wiping away the dried blood. Ashkan winced but didn't protest. The surrounding skin was warm. Healing spells were difficult. It was all about visualization and precision. You had to use your energy to reconstruct the tissue, encouraging the cells to heal at a faster rate. I placed one hand on the back of his shoulder and the other on his bicep. The magic glowed brightly, a golden aura surrounding his injury. I closed my eyes and concentrated, willing his body to mend itself.

  "How's that feel?" I asked.

  "Weird. Kind of itchy. But fine."

  I opened my eyes. The wound had shrunk but hadn't fully closed. I tried again, focusing harder. This time, I imagined a needle and thread, sewing the two halves together. I envisioned the cells regenerating. The skin knitting back together. The magic surged.

  "You're pretty good at that, Grey," Ribbons commented.

  "Thanks," I said, keeping my focus. The group continued to converse around me.

  "Did you end up sending anybody to the slammer?" Nine questioned.

  "Nah," Cannon answered. "They're too slippery. And their boss was outta there as soon as the kid was taken."

  "Do you normally arrest them?" Ashkan spoke up.

  "Normally, yeah. That leader you saw was Tarkus. We've been chasing him for a while. He's a high-ranking member. Whenever we do manage to tie one up, we drop 'em off at the nearest jail's doorstep."

  Nine chuckled. "With a nice, big bow on top." There was a long pause. "'Did you slice many?'" Nine translated. I assumed M had asked.

  "Not a ton," Cannon replied. "We didn't have much time to stop and make the rounds."

  "So... They'll reincarnate soon?" Ashkan asked, tensing slightly under my palms.

  "In a day or two. Give or take. And then we'll have to catch them again. For the rest of our lives."

  "That's the life of a hunter," Ribbons added. "We can't always get to all of them. Some are too powerful or just too fast. But we try our best."

  As I finished my last stitch, the glow dissipated. I sat back in my chair and wiped my brow. Ashkan's wound had closed, leaving behind a faint, pinkish scar. "All done."

  He twisted around and looked at his shoulder. "...Gods. That's impressive."

  He flexed his arm a few times, then pulled his shirt back on. The thick leather of his coat had protected him from most damage, but he still had a couple other scrapes on his head, face, and neck. I wondered to myself if it would be appropriate to offer. I'd have to get closer. And it would require touching his face.

  He glanced up and noticed me staring. "What?"

  I blinked. "Uh, anything else?"

  He raised an eyebrow, then seemed to understand. "Oh. Well, I don't know. You've done a lot today."

  "Ash." I tilted my head to the side. "Yes or no."

  "How about we alternate?" he offered, looking at me with concern. "That gash on your forehead looks unpleasant."

  I reached up and touched my temple. I'd completely forgotten about it. Right. The gunshot rang out in my memory. I convinced myself that I had no reason to feel guilty about shooting it. It wasn't human.

  Ashkan moved his chair so we were facing each other directly. I tried not to fidget as he leaned in. His gaze was fixed on my face, but he was careful not to meet my eyes. I wondered if I looked as tired as he did. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his brow was pinched in worry.

  "Could you hold your hair aside?" he requested.

  I brushed back the shorter pieces around my face, clearing them away from the cut. "How's it look?"

  "Pretty neat, actually. No, but really, it's not bad. Long, but shallow."

  "Good. Because it's starting to hurt now."

  Ashkan poured some antiseptic on a fresh cloth and pressed it to my temple. It stung immensely. I bit my tongue but couldn't stop a small hiss from escaping.

  "Sorry," he mumbled, his expression growing apologetic. "I know. I'll be quick."

  He was thorough, cleaning the area around the wound as well. I watched his face as he worked. He was very close. It felt weird being so close to someone. Ashkan's expression was serious. Concentrated. Every few seconds, his eyes would flick over, checking if he was hurting me. It was awfully considerate.

  After a few minutes, he stopped, tossing the cloth aside. "Okay, here goes."

  "Are you sure you want to try?" I asked. "I can probably just do it."

  "It's fine. Let me see." He held my face by my chin, between his thumb and index finger, angling it. I was surprised by the sudden contact. It was firm, but gentle. He closed his eyes and inhaled.

  I braced myself for pain, but it didn't happen. Instead, it felt like a light breeze, cooling and pleasant. Unfortunately, that didn't last long. A sharp, searing sensation erupted in my head.

  "Ow, ow!" I exclaimed, flinching.

  Ashkan dropped his hand. "Sorry! …I'm not good at this."

  I laughed softly. "It's okay. It's not easy. I can finish from here."

  I placed one hand on my forehead and one on my cheek. The healing was relatively quick and simple, as the wound wasn't deep. Ash had already gotten it started. A few seconds later, I lowered my hands and looked at him. "Well?"

  He inspected me. "...It's gone. Not even a scar."

  I smiled, feeling pleased. "Yay! I'm getting better at this."

  Ashkan gave a soft smile in return.

  "All right, your turn. What else do you need?"

  He glanced at his body, thinking. "Just a good night's rest. The other cuts are small. I can do those."

  I narrowed my eyes slightly. "I'll trust that you're not lying to me about something this serious."

  "Why would I lie?"

  "You tell me."

  He shook his head. "No, nothing else. Thank you, though."

  I yawned, and he did the same. I hadn't realized how exhausted I was. We both laughed.

  "Today was long," he commented.

  "Very," I replied. "But we're alive. And Davie's alive. I'd call that a success."

  He nodded. Then, his eyes fell to the table. "Brie, I..." He trailed off.

  I studied his expression, trying to deduce the emotions behind it. "...Hm?"

  He hesitated. "...I'm glad I'm alive. I'm glad you're alive. That's all."

  "Same. ...I'm glad you're with me."

  His eyes flicked up, meeting mine for a brief second, then fell again. He abruptly stood up. "We should get home."

  "Agreed." I grabbed my hat and put it on. "Thanks, everyone. We're going to head back now."

  Ribbons, Nine, M, and Cannon looked over at us, having been deep in conversation.

  "Sure thing," Cannon said. "Rest easy. And welcome aboard."

  "Get home safely," Ribbons added.

  M signed a farewell, and Nine waved a dismissive hand. "Bye."

  We left the shack and returned to the streets. The sky was black. There was no trace of sunlight left. Lyalon was alive. Lights twinkled. Music played. Voices sang and shouted. But, as we walked, it was quiet. Just the sound of our footsteps. I could feel the weight of the day pressing on me. I wanted nothing more than to collapse into my bed and sleep for hours.

  After a few minutes, we entered an alleyway. I held my ring closer to my face. The sigil had been glowing white since the group had reached the refuge. I dismissed the notification, then pressed my thumb against it. The same bright light and wind from earlier engulfed me.

  When I opened my eyes, I was back in Nelorismel, right where we'd left. Ashkan appeared next to me a second later. Our clothes had changed back into our normal outfits, weapons now gone.

  "Home sweet home," he sighed.

  We walked out of the alley and turned down the street, making our way towards Ashkan's house. My thoughts were a million miles away. It was a lot to process. Everything had changed. We were hunters now. We'd survived our first mission. I felt like the world had tilted. I felt like I was moving forward, but I wasn't sure if I'd like what laid ahead.

  "...Ash?" I spoke up.

  He looked over. "I'm still not used to that. But yes?"

  "What do you think of all this?" I asked, the words coming out slowly.

  "Oh, it was mad," he answered. "But fun, in a strange way."

  I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "Fun? That's how you would describe it?"

  "Well, not fun, exactly. But interesting. Exhilarating. Scary, certainly. But exciting."

  I couldn't help but smile. "I suppose."

  "I know we're probably in over our heads. And this will take some time to adjust to. But..." He paused. "I'm ready to accept the challenge. If this is how the world is, then so be it. It'll be an adventure. And I'll be damned if I sit idly by."

  I was silent while I thought. His response was not what I'd expected. "...That's a very noble outlook," I finally said.

  "You disagree?"

  "No, I agree. It's just that you're so...calm."

  He tilted his head, curious. "Is that unusual?"

  I shrugged. "I was freaking out. I am freaking out. This is scary stuff. How can you be so nonchalant?"

  Ashkan pondered that for a while. "We've been thrown into the deep end, whether we like it or not. I prefer the term 'realistic'. Yes, the world is cruel. And, yes, we're in a lot of danger while working with the League. I can't change the world. Not yet, anyway. That doesn't mean I can't help it. I can protect people. I can prevent malice from spreading. Isn't that worth it?"

  I couldn't find an argument against that. I just stared at him. "...I never knew you were so thoughtful."

  "Yeah, well, you usually don't ask," he riposted, giving me a sidelong glance.

  I was unable to stop a grin from crossing my face. "Fair."

  "Hey." He nudged my arm. "It'll be okay. We'll be okay. It's going to take time. But I have faith."

  "...In the gods?"

  "No. In us."

  "Us?"

  "You and me."

  My heart skipped a beat.

  "I mean, Shaye is part of our team too," he quickly clarified. "But... I don't know if she could handle a mission like today's. I wouldn't want her to try. I guess I meant..."

  "A team within a team," I finished, understanding.

  "Yes." He looked at me. "Glad you caught on."

  "Yeah. I think we'll be all right. If we stick together, that is."

  Ashkan's eyes softened as his face grew serious. "To be frank, I think I'm just as afraid as you. Maybe more. But I know it'll be worth it. The League is doing good work. If I can be a part of that, then it'll all be worth it. I just...can't obsess and brood over things. It'll be the end of me. Why do you think it took me so long to process my mother's death? If I think too much, I start panicking."

  "I can't imagine you ever panicking," I remarked.

  "That's because I hide it well." He shrugged. "We all have our problems. We all have our ways of coping. Mine are denial and repressing. Yours are avoidance and overthinking."

  My face flushed. He'd somehow hit the nail on the head. I smacked his arm several times, although the hits were so light that they were more like taps. "Stop...psychoanalyzing!"

  He laughed, swatting my hands away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. But you can't deny that it's true. If you can't leave your problem in the dust, you question it until you feel sufficiently prepared to face it. Then you tackle it. That's just who you are."

  I crossed my arms. "I hate that you're right."

  He grinned. "Thanks for confirming."

  "Ugh, you're impossible..." I sighed. "How did we go from talking about teamwork to psychology in five minutes?"

  "That's just how my brain works," he replied, tapping his temple. "One topic blends into the next. It's a miracle I can talk at all, really. Or that you can understand me."

  I chuckled. "At least you're eloquent enough to speak in coherent sentences."

  We ambled in silence for a while, our minds drifting. It had been a long day, but I felt more awake now. The exhaustion was gone. There were too many thoughts floating around in my head to sleep.

  Several minutes passed before Ashkan spoke again. "Y'know, I really don't fancy being stabbed. Or thrown against a wall. Or shot at. Or any of those other things. But... It's something about the idea of a purpose. Of having a reason. Something to fight for. Or someone. I think that's what made today bearable. Knowing there's a point. That it means something. It makes me feel...strong."

  I was a little taken aback by the sincerity of his words. They were spoken softly, almost in a whisper. It was so unlike him. I wasn't used to seeing him this vulnerable.

  "It's nice," he continued. "Not the almost dying part, of course. But the...knowing. The purpose. The strength. My actions matter. They have an impact. Even if it's a small one."

  I was at a loss for words. I'd never heard Ashkan speak like that. His thoughts were profound. His reasoning was complex. He was more astute than he let on. He was intelligent, but not the type that was showy. He was the type that was reserved, the type that only showed itself when necessary. This was a rare glimpse into his mind.

  "I really didn't want Davie to get hurt because of me." His eyes glazed over a bit. "I hope he forgets about all this soon."

  "He didn't get hurt," I said. "He was fine because of you, actually."

  Ashkan's gaze sharpened, coming back to the present. "I suppose. Still, when the leader grabbed us with those coils... Next thing I knew, we were hanging upside-down. I was so worried that he was going to hurt him."

  I nodded. "Yeah, me too. That's what kept me going."

  "I could tell. I don't think you've ever looked more terrifying than when you were slicing through those roots. Your expression was so intense."

  I cracked a small smile. "Really? What did it look like?"

  He made a face, trying to imitate me. It was a cross between a grimace and a scowl, and was the most visibly angry I'd ever seen him. "Like that."

  Not knowing how to respond, I just laughed, covering my mouth. Ash joined in, the two of us giggling loudly.

  "I was serious, though," he said once our laughter had died down. "I can tell you've been training hard."

  I was pleased by the compliment. "You think so?"

  He nodded. "You knew what you were doing. It was impressive."

  "Says you. You just refused to stay down."

  "I'm stubborn," he replied. "Really, though, it's two things. Only two things stuck in my head that whole time. One, I didn't want to die. Obviously. I can't yet. I've got so much left to do."

  "Like what?"

  Ashkan gave me a look as if the answer was obvious. "Who else would take Wendyll to his doctor's appointments? My father? Spare me."

  I snickered, shaking my head. "Too real, Ash."

  He laughed and dropped the act. "Genuinely. I have so much left to do. So much I want to do. I haven't even travelled the world yet. I haven't tried all the food I've always wanted to. I-I haven't seen a meteor shower. Haven't worked in a proper blacksmith. I haven't...fallen in love. I haven't seen Niista get married, seen Wendyll grow into a man, seen Shaye become a famous designer. And I can't do any of that if I'm dead. That was the first thing."

  I smiled as I listened. He had a lot of plans. A lot of aspirations. He had hope for the future. I liked that. "And... The second?"

  He hesitated, and a hint of nervousness entered his expression. "Two, I... I refuse to let anyone be hurt right in front of me. Especially the people I care about. If anyone is going to be hurt, it should be me. I'd rather have it that way."

  "Ash," I breathed. "Don't say that. We'd be crushed if anything happened to you."

  He challenged, "And you don't think I'd be crushed if something happened to you? Or Wendyll, or Shaye, or even little Davie? I've told you more things than I've told my own father, in all my eighteen years of life combined. And I think I might've let slip some things that I've never told anyone. It...doesn't get much more precious than that."

  The words hung heavily in the air. Ashkan's eyes had averted. He seemed almost...embarrassed. I hadn't realized just how much he cared about us. About...me. His statement was genuine. And heartfelt. The truth behind it was almost fierce, like a flame burning brightly, but not in an overbearing way. Not possessively; not wildly. Simply bright. A soft fire. A comforting fire. Like a hearth. Not always alight, but always there if you needed some extra warmth.

  Ashkan glanced at me, his cheeks and ears pink. I could tell he regretted being so honest. It was out of character for him. "Uh, yeah. If you think about it logically, it makes sense. If I wasn't the one being struck, it would be someone else. I'm the one with the good shield. It's...practical."

  I laughed. He was flustered. "Well, thank you, then. I'm glad you have my back. And, for the record, I have yours. Always will."

  His lips curved upwards, a grateful look on his face. "Thanks."

  We'd reached his house by now. I turned to face him, standing still. He did the same. We gazed at each other for a few seconds.

  "Well... See you tomorrow?" he said.

  I nodded. "Tomorrow."

  His expression became resolute. He straightened his back, a look of tenacity flashing across his eyes. "Remember. Don't linger on the what-ifs. No regrets."

  "No regrets," I echoed, feeling a surge of courage.

  He pressed two fingers to his temple and saluted sharply. I mirrored the action. I had a feeling this was the beginning of a sort of ritual. A secret handshake of sorts. Our way of acknowledging the commitment we'd made. To each other. To the League. To ourselves.

  Ashkan turned on his heel and headed through the gates. I watched him go. When he reached the front door, he waved. I returned the gesture, then started walking towards the barracks. Once again, the streets were empty. Quiet. Just me and my thoughts. My boots echoed with each step. The wind whistled, blowing strands of hair across my face.

  I could've died. Today. We both could have. The realization hit me harder than a brick. I shuddered, wrapping my arms around myself. But we'd made it. Against the odds, we'd survived. And not only that, but we'd helped. We'd done good. We'd fought. We'd protected. And we'd won. That thought carried me home. I climbed the steps to the barracks, found my necklace in the locked chest, then returned to Earth.

  Once there, I fell asleep, and dreamed of adventure.