The Second Ring District, Castera, Kingdom of Ilsylvania. Day -24.

  Tyree stood, back pressed against the wall, listening and waiting. The only sound she heard were three faint voices, each taking turns in muffled, unintelligible conversation. And her own nervously beating heart. She was on a stealth mission to steal a very powerful item; one she wanted—no, needed—to acquire.

  She stole a glance around the corner into the hallway beyond. It was dark, save only for the soft flicker of candlelight inside the room where the voices were coming from. It created soft shadows that danced along the opposite wall.

  Silently, Tyree crept through the doorway and into the room opposite her current hiding place. Tucked against the far wall was a large white chest. Tyree’s eyes widened with excitement.

  A rush of cold air sent a stream of tears down Tyree’s cheeks as she opened the chest’s lid. She wiped them and slowly lifted the package she’d been after out of the icebox.

  Prize in one hand, Tyree reached into her bag of holding and pulled out a gloved hand, holding a flame red crystal. Two taps on the edge of the icebox caused the crystal to glow softly and radiate a comfortable warmth.

  A third tap and the heat intensified into an inferno that was just barely repelled by the enchantments on her glove. The light wasn’t overly bright, but Tyree still looked over her shoulder to make sure it hadn’t cast any obvious shadows back into the hallway. The last thing she needed was to be found holding her prize. That would no doubt incur violent retribution.

  Satisfied there was little sign of her actions, Tyree went back to her task. She rubbed the firestone crystal back and forth along the bottom of the porcelain container. After a few moments, she slipped the firestone back into her bag and pulled the container’s wrappings free.

  The savory scent of the beef and lamb stew flooded Tyree’s nostrils and her mouth began salivating in ravenous anticipation.

  A moan of pleasure escaped Tyree’s mouth as the stew hit her tongue. The broth was thickened just the way she liked it and the spices came together like old friends reuniting. It was a heaven marred only by the occasional bits of still cold stew that found their way onto her spoon.

  An electrifying jolt of cold suddenly hit Tyree in her back, freezing her to her very core! She nearly dropped the bowl in an effort to keep from crying out. Tyree turned and saw Aliyah, hand glowing an icy blue with small motes of mana swirling around her fingertips like the flakes of a recently shaken snow globe. On her face was an expression that meant trouble. More accurately, Tyree was in trouble.

  “Hello, my lovely—” Tyree began.

  Aliyah cut her off, “This is your third bowl tonight! If you eat it all, you won’t have anything to eat while we’re gone! Then what will you do? You’re a terrible cook, you know this! Some days I cannot tell who is worse, you or the twins!”

  “Come on, Ali! You know I cannot resist the sweet call of your lamb stew. It is my favorite dish! The flavors sing to me like a bard’s wonderful song!” Tyree made grand, sweeping gestures with the bowl and spoon as though she were playing in an orchestra.

  Aliyah’s stern expression cracked as she let out an amused snort. She walked up to Tyree and planted her lips firmly against her own. She pulled away, whispering, “Even a bard needs a reprieve from time to time.”

  “Ouch!” Tyree recoiled and yelped as Aliyah sent a fresh jolt of cold up her arm. Her stomach growled and Tyree crossed her arms in frustration. “You know it isn’t fair using mana! I only know sword spells, I can’t exactly fight back!”

  Aliyah replaced the bowl’s wrappings and set it back in the icebox. “Hasn’t Rhoda been teaching you the whip? I’m sure you’ll figure some way to fight back.”

  Aliyah flashed a coy smile as she sauntered into the living room, her hips swaying in exaggerated, and mesmerizing, fashion, leaving Tyree a silent, blushing mess.

  It amazed her how, even twelve years later, Aliyah could still silence Tyree so quickly and effectively. Tyree recovered and followed after her wife, slipping in beside her and laying her head across her lap.

  Aliyah picked up a book from the table, A Scientific Treatise on Mages Volume II, and began reading. Tyree’s eyes wandered around the room before settling on the doorway where bags stacked nearly to the ceiling stood waiting to be moved to Rhoda’s carriage in the morning. Tyree let out a long sigh.

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  Aliyah closed her book and glanced down at Tyree. She had a scar that ran from about two inches above her right eye to her lip that tugged it ever so slightly away from symmetric. It was a reminder of the dangers of their old profession and as well as the strength possessed by the woman whom Tyree loved.

  Aliyah set the book aside and ran her fingers through Tyree’s hair, scratching just above the top of her ear. “Okay, since you aren’t going to let me read my book, tell me what’s bothering you.”

  “I don’t see why you cannot wait six more days until my guard rotation ends. Then we could travel to Pella together.”

  “You and Felt will catch our six day lead and you know it. That horse loves nothing more than being set loose on the road unrestrained. And if the sickness running through the north is as bad as Rhoda says, we’re going to need all the extra time we can get.”

  Tyree crossed her arms and fixed Aliyah with a frown. It was the same discussion they’d had for the last several days since Rhoda had arrived unexpectedly and asked for Aliyah’s help in her village. That Aliyah was right didn’t mean Tyree wanted to hear it.

  Aliyah’s expression grew playfully grim. “And it gets worse. You do realize you have bedtime story duty every night for the next month when you get there, right?”

  “Oh a fate truly worse than death!” Tyree snickered. “What stories have you told them recently? I don’t want to repeat any.”

  “You already know the only story they’re going to want to hear from you.”

  Of course Tyree did. The slaying of the great demon Azeban by the Guardians. The book sat on the table beside the one Aliyah had been reading, though Tyree could recite it entirely from memory since it was Alyx and Lynn’s favorite story.

  And Tyree could understand why. It was a first-hand account from a soldier who had fought through that terrible event nearly a hundred years ago. The demon Azeban had broken free from its prison inside a magic dungeon in the volcanic wastes in the far north in a region that had since been named Hell’s Mouth.

  Azeban and the lesser demons that had spilled out with him had very nearly brought about the extinction of the dragons. Only a few survivors and their eggs remained to request the aid of the combined Serethi and human nations. The fighting had been costly. No matter how many demons they killed, more seemed to just keep coming. And they were strong, far stronger than any of the monsters that roamed the wilds, even the terrifying night spawns.

  The demon forces spread south until they attracted the attention of the Guardians; powerful magical constructs who had first appeared some two decades before Azeban’s release. They wandered the wildlands, killing the monsters and generally making life safer for people. They didn’t speak or seem to have any interest in the affairs of man, but they were a force to be reckoned with.

  According to the soldier’s account, they threw themselves at Azeban repeatedly, day in and day out, for months clearing the way back to Hell’s Mouth until a group of twenty-four managed to kill Azeban, sealing him back within the magic dungeon. It was a story of costly victory against hopeless odds that gave Tyree the chills every time she thought about it.

  Tyree fixed Aliyah with a mischievous smile. “I don’t know why they only want to hear it from me. You should know the story better. You were there when it happened!”

  Aliyah gasped in mock offense, grabbed a pillow, and hit Tyree in the stomach with it. “I was hardly a year old!”

  Tyree threw her hands over her face and stomach in preparation for the follow-up attack. “Did I mention how great you look for ninety-six?”

  Aliyah was Serethi. Ninety-six was hardly even quarter-aged for her people.

  That fact didn’t stop Aliyah from bearing down on Tyree a second time, two pillows in hand, taking them both to the floor. “It’s too late for flattery! You’ll—”

  “What are you two doing?” Rhoda glanced down at Tyree and Aliyah, her lips pursed in amusement.

  “Having fun! You should try it.” Tyree threw a pillow at her friend.

  Faster than Tyree even had time to react, the rogue grabbed the pillow and had it flying back at Tyree before she could even dodge.

  Aliyah glared at Tyree. “And you’re not going to complain about her using mana?”

  Before Tyree could get out a retort, an ominous purple glow spilled into the living room from the windows, silencing all three. Rhoda quickly helped both women to their feet and they quickly ran for the door.

  People in their neighborhood poured from their homes, talking in excited murmurs as they looked around. It was late in the evening, though it was as bright as midday.

  The largest of Terre’s moons, Diurne, had a white, crater-pocked western hemisphere and a sea of purplish-red crystal on its eastern hemisphere. That crystalline half was now shining so brightly, Tyree couldn’t stare at it without wincing.

  Gasps and cries of panic filled the air as suddenly Diurne’s light vanished, plunging everything around them into a darkness lit only by the stars and candlelight coming from nearby windows.

  A moment later, Diurne’s purple half returned to her normal soft light that pulsed in the rhythm of a slow heartbeat.

  No, not normal. Very different. The light was dimmer and the pulse much slower, weaker almost.

  Tyree turned to Aliyah and Rhoda, “Have either of you ever seen anything like that?”

  The seventy-two year old Rhoda shook her head.

  Aliyah answered slowly. “No, but my parents did. One hundred and twenty years ago, when the first Guardians appeared.”