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Chapter Text

The world slowly faded in around Lucas, the white of the dream-like Wish world dissolving into a dull gray. The words of his three wishes echoed through his head, reverberating around as if his skull had been struck like a drum. He felt a vague sense of unease, as though there was something he should have said, something he forgot to say…something that was missing. He opened his eyes and looked around, expecting to see the vast expanse of the glowing plateau around him with Falmouth looming as a kraken over him, Ashen and Daemys, Ellorie…

He frowned at the sight of dungeon walls surrounding him and the solid iron bars in front of him. Looking next to him, he saw a sleeping Ashen, Daemys, and Falmouth, the latter of whom was definitely not a kraken at the moment, shrunken down to his usual six-foot-five form. Lucas sat up and crawled over to Ashen, shaking him awake.

“Ashen! Ashen, wake up. Do you think it worked? We’re back in the dungeon, but I don’t know what happened...Ashen!”

Ashen stirred groggily, looking up at Lucas with annoyance, no recognition in his eyes. 

“Wha’ the hell?...” Ashen said, rubbing his eyes blearily. “Who the fuck are you?”

Lucas looked at Ashen in disbelief, eyebrows rising towards his hairline.

“What do you mean, who am I? It's me, Lucas! Is this some kind of joke?”

Ashen stared at him, confused, eyes still somewhat clouded by sleep.

“I'm sorry mate, but I don’t recognize you...” Ashen squinted up at him, and a look flashed through his eyes, so quickly that Lucas thought he might have imagined it. But after a moment he shook his head. “Have we met? I really don’t remember you.”

Falmouth and Daemys started to stir, roused by the commotion.

“Keep it down in here, some of us are trying to sleep…” grumbled Daemys, turning over. Falmouth sat up, tentacles flopping, and started to stretch.

“Falmouth, back me up here! Please!” Lucas said, turning to the genasi. Falmouth looked at him, confused.

“How do you know my name?”

Lucas felt his heart sink at the blank look in Falmouth’s eyes. He looked around at the three of them, even Daemys seeming to take an interest in the events unfolding. Lucas felt his eyes well up and his heart start pounding; his hands were suddenly clammy and it was getting harder to breathe. What was going on?

“Stop playing around, would you? This is serious! What are you all…” Lucas trailed off, seeing the looks on the other men’s faces. He started again, desperate to get through to them. “We spent months together! How could you not remember…?”

The three men in the cell shared a look, then Ashen shrugged and turned to Lucas.

“Mate, I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re going on about. I don’t know how you know my name, but I saw you for the first time last night when you were thrown in here. I met these two yesterday when I was tossed in myself. I’m sorry, but…” he trailed off for a moment, seeming at a loss for words. He laid a hand on Lucas’s shoulder, trying to get through to him. “I am sorry, but I’m sure I’ve never met you before that, let alone spent months together.”

Falmouth and Daemys both nodded along to Ashen’s speech. Daemys seemed to think Lucas was crazy, while Falmouth just seemed confused. Ashen seemed sympathetic, but he also seemed to be leaning toward the crazy theory. Lucas felt suddenly destabilized, as if all of reality had shifted and he no longer recognized the new shape of the world. He tried to get through to them again, needing this to stay, needing his friends back. He gasped sharply at the thought and heard himself babbling, not recognizing the words coming out of his own mouth, just trying to get them back.

“Listen, I know this sounds absolutely insane, but I-I think something’s- gone wrong- I just- please- you have to believe me. We-we know each other. We're friends! We..I-I spent-”

He was cut off by the boom of the dungeon door opening. He spun around, Ashen’s hand falling off his shoulder, to see Ellorie descending- well, more like bouncing than descending- down the stairs. She walked up to the cell, looking at the four inhabitants.

Lucas felt his expression soften as he looked at his ward of three months. She looked fine...in fact, she looked much better than when he had last seen her- healthier and happier. Almost like…almost like she hadn’t spent three months on the run with three misfits. Lucas stepped forward to the front of the cell to see the princess better.

“Ellorie! Thank goodness you're alright-”

He cut himself off, seeing her jump slightly at his words. She eyed him strangely, the same non-recognition in her eyes as in the eyes of his former friends.

“Ellorie?”

“Why are you speaking to my daughter in such familiar tones?” a booming voice rang out. Lucas looked up, realizing for the first time that the king had entered behind his daughter. He stood behind her, examining Lucas and frowning. He'd been so intent on the princess, he had completely missed seeing the king enter the room behind Ellorie. He quickly bowed, mind racing for an explanation, both for the familiarity, and for why the king was here, alive. He was coming up blank for the first problem, but as for the latter…the Wish. It was the only explanation. His heart rose as he looked up at the king, relieved to see some evidence of what he and his friends had gone through. After all, the last time they were all in this cell together, the king had been dead. So something had happened, even if he didn’t know exactly what.

“I'm so sorry your majesty, I just…” he trailed off, uncertain how to continue. A quick glance around the room showed every eye to be on him, everyone seeming at the least mystified, at worst suspicious, of his behaviour. He supposed an overly familiar reaction to the princess was quite suspicious indeed. He backed up, stumbling slightly over the uneven ground.

“I apologize, your majesty. I just-I thought…it's not important now.”

The king was still frowning at him, but Ellorie seemed to accept that, stepping forward to the four prisoners. She looked at them all for a long moment, before turning to her father and speaking.

“I hereby declare that these four prisoners be released.”

Her bold declaration was met by a surprised silence. Then-

“Are you sure, sweetheart?”

A wounded, strangled sound wrenched itself from Lucas's throat at the endearment. The rest turned to look at him, but the king plowed on ahead.

“These people are criminals, Ellorie! Why do you want to pardon them?”

“Because I do. And also, I declare that they should all be given land, and money, and titles, and-and things from the treasury! They shall leave here as nobles.” Falmouth, Ashen, and Daemys looked shocked, as well as the king.

Lucas's heart sped up, his thoughts racing.

I wish for a safe and prosperous future for all of us…

The words echoed in his head. Clearly this was evidence of the third Wish coming true. There was no rational way to explain this. The princess deciding out of the blue to pardon four criminals, and not just pardon them, but give them land and titles? This was unheard of. So the king being here seemed to prove that the first Wish had come true, this generosity of Ellorie’s was proof of the third...so what about the second Wish? He glanced at Daemys. Still bald. His heart stopped for a second. What if that was the only Wish that didn't come true? He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and took a long look deep within. He felt his knees buckle with relief as he felt the absence of a familiar tug on his soul. It was gone. The curse- the contract- was over. He felt a tear slip down his cheek at the release of a long-carried burden.

“Sir?” He opened his eyes quickly, blinking away tears, seeing his three friends- the other three prisoners- on the other side of the door, manacles unlocked and free. He quickly swiped at his face, trying to brush away the wetness, and moved to join them. He ignored the strange looks cast his way. As soon as the manacles were off, he clutched his arms, rubbing them as if cold. He couldn’t believe it…he had lived so long under that shadow, he didn’t know who he was without it. He wanted to shout, he wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry…he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and reined his emotions in. He could deal with all that later, when he was alone. For now, he’d maintain his composure.

He quickly joined the other men walking out of the dungeon, rubbing his wrists where the manacles had chafed at his skin.

The rest of their time in the castle passed in a whirlwind. The king led them to the throne room, where he gave them official pardons and requested that they come back in a month’s time, as the paperwork and legalities would take some time to work out. He also gave them each a letter of admittance, allowing them entrance to the castle at that future date. After all the official work was finished, the king bade them farewell. They all thanked the king profusely for his kindness, which he waved off, and the four now ex-criminals took their leave. As they exited the main entrance of the castle, Ashen suddenly dropped to his knees, clutching his head. He cried out, his pained voice breaking the stillness in the air. His deep red horns crumbled to dust, the ashes blowing away on the wind. Without a thought, Lucas dropped next to him.

“Ashen! Ashen, are you alright? What's going on??”

Ashen was hunched over, tears falling down his face as he ran his fingers through his hair over and over, feeling for the horns that were no longer there. He was muttering to himself and Lucas leaned forward, trying to catch what he was saying.

“They're gone. They're gone. It's over…it's over.” Ashen buried his face in his hands, sobbing. Lucas hugged him tightly, trying to ground him, murmuring soothing words under his breath. Ashen leant into his embrace, seemingly not aware of much outside of his own head. Seemed to Lucas that he wasn't the only one carrying around a secret curse. He had known about Daemys’ curse, but that Ashen wasn’t actually a tiefling…he’d had no idea. Falmouth and Daemys had stopped in their tracks, looking at the pair of them. Daemys looked faintly puzzled, as though there was something he was trying to figure out, but it was just out of his grasp. Falmouth took a step closer.

“Is the horned one alright?” The deep and garbled tones of the genasi seemed to pull Ashen out of his stupor. He pulled away from Lucas, eyes downcast. Lucas' arms ached with a sudden emptiness.

“Sorry mate, didn't mean to break down on you like that.” Ashen let out a small, forced laugh, seemingly embarrassed.

“No no, it's quite alright. We're all a little out of sorts today, it seems.” Lucas smiled, but his smile was a small and broken smile that only made one sadder to see it. He stood slowly, offering his hand to Ashen, who accepted and pulled himself up. He seemed surprised to find himself still on the steps of the palace, with the other two.

“Sorry fellas, lost track of myself for a bit there.” Ashen ran his hand over his head again, still seeming to marvel over the lack of horns. His eyes shone with excitement- and maybe a hint of wetness. He grinned, bounced on the balls of his feet, and looked out at the horizon. “I don’t know why, but I seem to have gotten rid of a long-lasting curse. I believe I have some people to see.”

And just like that, the ache in Lucas’s chest returned. Ashen didn’t know why, didn’t remember. Neither did Falmouth, or Daemys, or Ellorie…or anyone else in the world it seemed. The dragon tooth necklace had returned Ellorie’s parents to her and with them, restored the peace of the kingdom. Everything had returned to be just as it was before the four of them had had their adventure. Which meant…

The necklace had removed all curses from their small party. Excepting, seemingly, the curse of the memories Lucas was now burdened to carry alone. As the four of them parted on the steps, each going their separate ways to their new lives, Lucas paused and bowed his head, mourning the friendships he now knew to be lost forever.

Chapter Text

Lucas awoke, his heart pounding, the dream fading slowly from his mind. Ashen had been there…of course Ashen had been there. As had Falmouth, and Daemys, and Ellorie. He dreamed of them most nights, it seemed. Tonight’s dream had been a peaceful one, making the waking all the more painful for it. At least when he dreamt of their accusing eyes, their harsh words, of them dying and getting back up again- at least then he could convince himself it was all a dream. When he dreamt of warm campfires and soft conversations, as he had tonight, he woke disoriented, grasping for remnants of a memory that couldn’t follow him to the waking world. When Lucas opened his eyes to the cold, empty room, he felt as though he had been dropped from sitting by a cozy fireplace straight into an ice bath.  

At first, Lucas had hoped that the dreams would fade with time, that he would learn to forget them- as they had forgotten him. Now, however, he found that he treasured the time he got to spend with his old friends, even if it was in his subconscious, and he was terrified of losing them completely. The first week had been the worst, and Lucas had rarely left his room. Now, a month later…  

Lucas sat up suddenly in his bed, the covers falling to the floor. It couldn’t be today, could it? He looked over at the markings on the wall, each line a day that had passed since he had come to the inn. Thirty days... Lucas fought off a full body shiver, wrapping his arms tightly around himself. He closed his eyes, remembering that day in the castle, exactly one month ago…  

”As my daughter has requested, you will be given land and titles. Though I cannot fathom why this is important to her, she insists that it be done, and so it shall. The logistics and paperwork will take some time to organize, so in a month’s time, on the 10 th of Niyar, at noon, return to the castle and we will have it ready. In addition, my daughter insists that you each are rewarded with an item from the kingdom’s treasury. That too will take place in a month’s time. If you do not come on the specified day, at the correct time, you will forfeit the gifts that my daughter has seen fit to bestow upon you…”  

Lucas shook his head, trying to forget the fact that in all likelihood, he’d be seeing all his old friends today. For the past month he’d been staying at a small inn in a small village near the capital city of the kingdom. He hadn’t heard from any of his friends. Why should he have? They didn’t even know his name, let alone who he was. They barely even knew he existed. He ignored the small ache in his chest as the thought came to him and he got out of bed, ready as he’d ever be to face the day ahead.  

His bags sat ready at his door, packed the night before, as he was eager for an early start this morning. It didn’t take Lucas long to dress, eat, and saddle his horse. Soon he was on his way, guiding his horse down the well-worn path to the palace. The trip there would take at least three to four hours, and as he was accustomed to waking up early, he would arrive well before noon. As he rode along, his thoughts turned (as they so often did) to his travels with Ashen and Falmouth. He had been surprised, himself, at just how quickly he had gotten accustomed to their presence. He usually took longer to warm up to people, but perhaps something in their unusual circumstances had allowed for trust to build at a faster rate. Unfortunately, the same was not true in reverse. Though Lucas had been on his own for a month, now, it had not been enough time to get used to the realities of the world as it currently was. He would hear singing and turn around, heart falling when instead of seeing Ellorie behind him, skipping with a flower in hand, it was just one of the local children. Or he would be looking for a pen, and roll his eyes as he asked an empty room if someone had mysteriously acquired it again. A few times, he had finished a waterskin and started apologizing to a dehydrated water genasi who simply wasn’t there. It turned out that three months of isolation, with just each other to rely on for survival, was not an easy thing to shake off.  

Truth be told, he missed them terribly. He even missed Daemys, though he had travelled with them only for a short time at the end of their journeys. He had turned out alright in the end, after he had shaken off the influence of the cult.  

Lucas had tried to relax the last month, despite the lack of his friends, attempting to revel in the lack of a curse hanging overhead. In a way, he had succeeded somewhat, as he found it novel to live without the burden. On the other hand, knowing that this freedom came at the cost of his most precious friendships…though it was a relief for the contract to be over, it was near impossible to truly enjoy. It hurt knowing that they could never miss him like he was missing them. To be perfectly honest, he found the relief hard to explain, as his life continued as it had before he had ever met his travelling companions. The contract was only to come into effect after his death. At the same time, he felt that life with the contract was like living with a constant shadow over his head…it didn’t do much, but it shaded his world just a bit differently. Suddenly now, everything seemed brighter and clearer, the world full of light.  

His horse knickered softly, pulling Lucas out of his thoughts. She tossed her head, rolling her eyes at him, almost seeming to be tired of his brooding. That pulled a laugh out of him and he patted her neck fondly.  

“Yeah, Thunderclap, I reckon you’re right. I do need to pull my head out of the clouds sometimes,” Lucas said, looking around at the scenery he was passing. The road was beautiful,  small red and purple flowers lining the trail. He dismounted stiffly, not used to riding for hours at a time, and checked the sun’s position. He reckoned he was about two thirds of the way to the palace, and another hour- give or take- should see him the rest of the way. He pulled an apple out of his travel bag and fed it to Thunderclap, patting her velvety nose gently in thanks. He led her off the road to a small stream that ran parallel, just a few meters from the path itself. Thunderclap drank her fill while Lucas topped up his water skin, splashing some of the water on his own face to refresh himself in the warm sun. Finally, after they had gotten back to the road, Lucas pulled out some elven waybread for himself and he ate quietly, leading Thunderclap along the trail. He figured it was only fair to give her a break, and it would be easier on him as well in the end if he took a chance to walk out his stiff muscles. After about fifteen minutes of walking along, he remounted, not wanting to delay his arrival any more than he already had. He couldn’t keep the king waiting, after all.  

Not long after his short rest, Lucas reached a hill. He pulled up at the top of the hill, looking at the landscape that came into view. The castle, long and sprawling, lay at the center of a bustling metropolis. The city spread out from the castle, streets twisting and turning like the branches of a gnarled oak. The streets themselves were joyous to look at, colourful, bustling, and full of people living their lives. Lucas lingered there for a moment, a nostalgic smile touching his lips, before he spurred his horse onward. As he made his way down the hill, he lost sight of the city. It would still be some time before he arrived, but it had lifted his spirits to catch a glimpse.   

As Lucas and Thunderclap picked their way through the city, Lucas couldn’t help but smile fondly. He had loved living in the capital city, loved being in a place where something was always happening. Now, however, after all his adventures, living in a quieter village suited him, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. He passed familiar streets and shops on his way to the castle. Though part of him wanted to go and visit his old haunts, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to enjoy them properly until he had seen to his business with the king.  

Finally, he arrived at the palace itself, presented his letter of admittance, and was escorted through the gates. While Thunderclap was taken away to be stabled, he was brought to a guest suite and offered a bath to rinse off the dust from the journey. As he waited for the bath to arrive, he laid his travel bags down and examined the rooms he was given. It was lavish, clearly meant for traveling nobles or foreign dignitaries. The bed was plush and soft, the fireplace large, and there were more tapestries on the wall than should have any right to fit there. As Lucas was examining one of the tapestries, depicting what seemed to be three witches surrounding a large black cauldron, a soft knock came at the door. Servants came into the room, two carrying a large tub, and several more carrying buckets of steaming water. They left as quietly as they came, and left Lucas to his business.  

After Lucas had rinsed himself off, he had nothing to do but wait for the clock above the fireplace to reach noon. As the minute hand moved closer and closer to the twelve, Lucas felt his body wind tighter and tighter. When he heard another knock on his door at a quarter to, he sprung off his chair and flung the door to his chambers open. A bewildered guard was standing outside, hand still raised from his knock. The guard cleared his throat, opened and closed his mouth a few times, then seemed to regain composure as he informed Lucas that the king was ready to see him in his personal office. Why, yes, it would be his pleasure to escort him there. Thank you very much, sir, if you please.  

Lucas found himself growing impatient with all the formalities, though he was usually quite good at dealing with them. Finally, they found themselves outside a wooden door, quite unlike what Lucas was expecting.  

“Lucas Flamingo, here to see King Lusensa,” the guard announced, after rapping smartly on the door. As soon as they heard the curt ‘come in’ from inside, Lucas was invited to enter.  

As he made his way into the room, he saw four chairs arranged on one side of the desk, the king sitting opposite them. In one of the chairs sat Daemys, the other three still empty.  

“Ah, Lucas, wasn’t it? Come in, sit down! I’ve just been chatting with Daemys here. Now I believe we are waiting on one of your fellows.”  

Lucas frowned as he took a seat, looking at the two empty seats still remaining.  

“Your majesty, I thank you for the invitation. Am I…would I be mistaken in thinking that we are missing two people here?”  

The king chuckled lightly and tugged on the end of his beard.  

“Not to worry, it’s alright. Please, make yourself comfortable, we will begin speaking of business as soon as everyone arrives. Now tell me, how was your journey here?”  

They passed a few moments with polite small talk, and within a couple of minutes there was another knock at the door. Falmouth entered as soon as he was announced, and Lucas’ heart jumped to his throat at the sight of a familiar, well missed face. He was soon distracted, however, by the servant following behind Falmouth, who seemed somewhat out of breath. The man was carrying a barrel of water, and set it down near the wall. Falmouth, looking chagrined, hovered around until the barrel was safely stowed. Lucas almost laughed out loud, imagining the argument that must have taken place. Falmouth never had been one to be content letting others do things for him.  

Once the servant left, Falmouth moved over to a chair, one tentacle trailing behind him to rest in the barrel of water. Seeing the setup, his friend noticeably uncomfortable with the trouble he was causing, Lucas felt a quip rise to the tip of his tongue. He swallowed it down forcibly before he made the situation worse.  

Not your friend anymore, Lucas. He won’t take kindly to a joke from you right now. You’re just two strangers, who’ve spoken maybe a few words to each other at most.  

Of course, that wasn’t exactly true, as Lucas did know Falmouth quite well. However, as Falmouth didn’t know him, it was a moot point, and the quicker he realized that, the better off he’d be.  

While Lucas had been ruminating, the king had welcomed Falmouth with grace, and was engaging him in small talk as he had with Lucas. Lucas looked around, half expecting Ashen to burst out from under the desk or jump out from a shadowy corner. Moments later, there was another knock on the door and Ashen was escorted in. In handcuffs.  

Oh, Ashen… Lucas’ heart fell. In their three months together, Lucas had watched Ashen go from reckless, irresponsible, and always getting into trouble, to a thoughtful and protective caregiver for Ellorie. During their time together, he had seemed to mature, to actually understand the consequences for his actions, and he had been a better man for it. Not to mention a more sincere, caring, and gentle soul. Seeing Ashen standing there now, in handcuffs, and a black eye, too, Lucas noted grimly to himself…it seemed that Ashen had lost any and all the maturity he had gained from their travels together. Which made sense, Lucas realized with a pang, as this Ashen hadn’t experienced any of the journey that his Ashen had.  

Ashen glanced around the room, shook his hands lightly causing the handcuffs to jingle quietly, and gave a roguish smirk. Lucas’ heart jumped at the sight of the smile that he had missed for so long.  

“Am I going to be in these for the whole meeting?” Ashen asked, raising an eyebrow at the guard escorting him. The king nodded to the guardsman and the cuffs were unlocked, allowing Ashen to take his seat next to Lucas. Lucas clenched his jaw and forcibly removed his gaze from the man sitting next to him. Though he stared straight ahead at the king, all his focus was on Ashen, breathing quietly not even an arms length away. Thankfully, the torture abated somewhat a few moments later, when the king provided distraction in the form of a number of scrolls. Each one was read through carefully, details of deeds, titles, and lands that would go to the four of them clearly laid out on each scroll. Lucas was a bit flabbergasted at the value of what they were being given, but he supposed that that was what happened when you magically Wished for a prosperous future.  

After a few hours with the king, figuring out all the minute details of the contracts, the king cleared his throat.   

“Now that all of that is settled, there is the matter of the treasury. My daughter has been very insistent on each of you receiving an item from the royal vaults. Why this is important to her, I cannot guess, but as she has requested so it shall be. We have found four items that suit her requirements, and you’ll have to decide between yourselves who shall receive what. I can say that each of the four items are equally precious and valuable, and each is very powerful as well. My advisor, Winsmouth, will be here to help you with the items.” The king called for the guard outside, who entered the room followed by Winsmouth and three servants. The servants each carried a box, save for one who carried a pillow with two smaller boxes resting on it. When the packages were all resting on the table, and the servants and guard had left, Winsmouth took up residence next to the king and began to explain.  

“These four objects are magical in nature, and each one will be able to aid you in different ways, in different scenarios.” Winsmouth pointed at each of the items as he described them. “We have here the ring of invisibility, which in addition to turning you invisible, also grants you the ability to see the invisible and hidden; the staff of animal speaking, which allows you to befriend animals, as well as understand and speak with them; the Dancing Sword, a sword that allows you to attack at a distance, to defend yourself even if you don’t have the use of your hands; and the compass of desire, a compass that will always point you to what you want most. Each of these items is extremely powerful and will give you a large advantage on any quests or journeys you may have waiting for you in the future. When you decide which of you shall get each item, come and find me in my office and I shall help you then to learn to attune to and care for your prize.”  

Winsmouth bowed to the king and exited, leaving the room with a sweep of his robes. The king took his leave as well, giving the four of them the privacy to discuss the matter at hand. The four, now alone together in the room, glanced at each other, each wary to begin the discussion. The room was silent for a moment as they took their time reading the inscriptions on the boxes.  

Finally, Ashen broke the quiet.  

“Well, guys, what do you think?” he asked, looking around at them all. “Do we pull straws to see who picks first?”  

“I think we should all decide which one we want,” Falmouth said, “and we can deal with any conflicts if they come up. I, for one, would like the staff.”  

Everyone quickly agreed to this plan, and each person listed the object that they wanted. Daemys laid claim to the sword, and Lucas felt not an iota of surprise when Ashen said that he wanted the ring. The tension that had faded as they each named a different item reared its head again as Lucas hesitated, glancing through the objects on the desk. He could feel the strain in the room, the three other men waiting to see if all this would be resolved easily and peacefully, or…not. Lucas’ eyes lingered on the final item yet to be named, the compass of desire.  

Even if desire dwells deep and hidden  

Even if heart feels sick, bedridden  

Then forth the needle ever shall point  

Til heart and desire, at last, come joint  

What the hell, thought Lucas. It’s not like I have much use of the other things anyway. I might as well go with it.  

“I guess that leaves me the compass,” he said aloud, looking back up at the others. They nodded, everyone breathing quiet and not-quite-as-subtle-as-they-thought sighs of relief. They each cautiously reached out and took the box containing their item. Ashen received a soft, velvety, purple jewelry box; Falmouth, a long unwieldy metal box with a handle on one side; and for Daemys, a beautifully made scabbard. The delicate, almost ethereal-looking hilt that could be seen above the scabbard gave a faint glimpse of the sword it contained.  

Lucas waited until last before reaching out to claim his gift. The plain, unadorned, wooden box stood out only for its austerity. The inscription on the top was the only indication that the item it contained held any sort of significance. As he held the box, turning it over in his hands, the other three men began to file out. Ashen turned to Lucas before heading to the door, a look of concern on his face.  

“Hey, mate, I’m sorry you ended up last when we were choosing. If it had been up to me, we would have done straws. Seems more fair to me.” Ashen hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Listen, mate, are you sure you’re okay with your gift? You didn’t seem…as excited as the rest of us were for ours.”  

Lucas, having been distracted by the box in his hands, was definitely not ready for this conversation. He hadn’t expected Ashen to speak to him at all, let alone about worries that Lucas might have. When he looked up, he was confronted by the face of his best friend, creased in concern. For him. It suddenly became too much for Lucas; his eyes welled up and he couldn’t help his next words, though he had no idea how they’d be received.  

“Lucas.”  

“What?” Ashen asked, eyebrows raised in confusion.  

“My name is Lucas. And I appreciate your concern, but it’s unnecessary. I am perfectly happy with the compass.” He paused for a second, considering, then continued. “To be honest, none of the artifacts really spoke to me to begin with, so one is as good as the other.”  

Ashen eyed him strangely, his concern seeming unabated, despite Lucas’ reassurances.  

“Mate- Lucas- listen, if you’re unhappy with it, I’m sure you can ask the king if there’s something else he can dig out of the treasury for you. I’m sure the princess would make sure you get something you like. She seems keen on us for some reason.” Ashen grinned at Lucas, and Lucas’ heart jumped again. “I’ve been here a couple of times in the last month and every time she turns up and lets me out. I can’t imagine why, but she seems to have taken a shine to the four of us.”  

Lucas’ breath sped up, and the only thing he could think of was that he needed to get out of here, he needed to get away from Ashen and his dangerous smiles, his care and concern, his words about Ellorie…he couldn’t sit here, talking with Ashen about the young princess when Ashen had no idea- when he didn’t remember-  

Lucas forced out a smile.  

“Thank you but it’s really unnecessary. We should go see Winsmouth about my compass and your ring.” With that, Lucas closed the conversation, turning towards the door.  

“Alright, Lucas, it’s your decision, mate.” Ashen shrugged as he followed Lucas to the door. Though he was in the front, from the corner of his eye Lucas saw the pen that somehow slipped off the desk and into Ashen’s pocket as they left.  

Chapter Text

The four ex-criminals congregated in Winsmouth’s office. They each held the box- or in Daemys’ case, scabbard- containing their objects, as well as the deeds to keeps and lands for which they were all now responsible. The king’s mage looked at them all gravely. 

“The treasures you now carry- ring, staff, sword, and compass- are magical; incredibly potent magic at that. One must not wield them lightly or frivolously,” he said, looking them each in the eye. “I would like you each to acquaint yourselves with your new treasures, get to know them and their abilities. I will help wherever possible, but this is a job best done over time, by using the artifact and familiarizing oneself with its capabilities.” 

Lucas brushed his fingers over the words engraved on the top of his box, then opened the latch and glanced inside. Ashen and Falmouth opened their boxes likewise, while Daemys carefully unsheathed the sword from its protective scabbard. They each seemed eager to explore and discover the powers the artifacts were hiding. Inside Lucas’ unassuming box, surrounded by plush, rich purple velvet, was the most beautiful object he had ever seen. It was a golden compass, its surface intricately engraved with swirling patterns that drew in the eye. He lifted it out of the box carefully, surprised at its weight.  

Must be solid gold… he mused to himself as he examined the surface, tracing his fingers over the delicate line-work. He vaguely heard the others exclaiming over the traits of their gifts, and had enough presence of mind to duck when a sword came swinging by. Winsmouth was berating them for their lack of care, but all Lucas could hear was a curious tick, tick, tick emanating from the compass. Marveling in its design, he cupped it gently in both hands, noting its unusual warmth for having sat in a cold dungeon for who knows how long. As he turned it over, he realized that something had changed with the ticking, the rhythm of it was different. It was shifting, changing until- 

Lucas gasped, feeling as though someone had tied a rope directly around his heart and had given it a firm tug. As his heart rate settled from the sensation, he noticed that the ticking… the ticking eerily matched the beating of his heart. Lucas flicked the lid of the compass open with a quiet click. The design on the inside of the compass was every bit as intricate as that of the outside. The face of the compass was painted, metallic flowers and butterflies shimmering on a white background. Soon though, Lucas’ eye was drawn to the needle- and where it was pointing. 

Lucas looked to his left, then immediately felt ridiculous. The needle was pointing that way, sure, but who knows what it was pointing at? It could be pointing towards something miles away, out of the castle, out of the city, across the sea... 

Lucas looked back down at the compass, twisting it this way and that, testing the direction of the needle. It pointed steadily left. And then- did it shift? Lucas looked up again, and started walking the direction that the needle pointed. He passed Ashen and Falmouth in discussion with Winsmouth, a coat rack, looked at a painting on the wall, rifled through a bookshelf with conspicuous gaps where books should be… 

Lucas snapped the compass closed, disappointed. He had thought- hoped?- that the slight shift he thought he saw meant that whatever the needle was pointing to was close by. But nothing here could be the answer… regardless of his disappointment, one thing was clear. Whatever the needle pointed to, it definitely wasn’t north.  

He jumped a little as a shadow fell over the bookshelf, and he turned to see a somewhat exasperated Winsmouth standing next to him. 

“Your fellows are quite…enthusiastic, wouldn’t you say?” Winsmouth said, a twinkle in his eye. Lucas grinned, looking back at Ashen who was popping in and out of view as he played with his newfound toy. “I see you ended up with the compass, have you?” 

“I did, though I’m afraid I don’t know exactly what it does.” Lucas paused and chuckled. “I expect it won’t be all that useful until I’m out of the castle and on my way.” 

“There’s some truth to that,” Winsmouth said. “The compass, in a way, is the most powerful of the items set forth today, though it is the most unassuming. It will lead you straight to your heart’s desire, whether you wish it to or not. In a way, it doesn’t matter if you ever try to use it, once it aligns to you, it will find ways to help you along the journey. The only way to stop it is to get your desire, or die.” 

Lucas took a deep breath, trying to process the information. This compass would lead him to something he didn’t even know, without him even trying? He fidgeted with the compass, flicking the lid open again. Then he froze. The needle, still unwavering, was no longer pointed at the wall. 

“Are you alright, my boy?” Winsmouth asked, putting a hand on Lucas’ shoulder. “You’ve gone quite pale. Should I call for the palace physician?” 

Lucas shook his head, more to clear it than to answer the mage’s question. He looked up at where the needle now pointed, almost directly opposite to where it had pointed before. There was a large desk in the middle of the room, Falmouth leaning against it, Daemys swinging his sword behind him. Then there was another tapestry on the wall opposite… 

Lucas walked slowly through the room, feeling like he was moving under water. His eyes were glued to the needle of the compass, which was, in fact, moving. It was twisting to the middle of the room, pointing straight towards… 

“You alright, mate?” Ashen materialized out of thin air, slipping a ring off his finger. His voice broke through Lucas’ stupor, and Lucas jumped back, snapping the compass closed. He took a breath, forced out a smile, and nodded, not trusting his voice. Ashen turned away as Lucas reeled from the implications of this revelation.  

Retroactively, it all made sense. Of course it made sense. What else did Lucas want, more than his friends- his family- back? More than his closest friend in the world back? Looking back, it was quite sensible, really. It was ridiculous he hadn’t thought of it before. But…but there was no way to get his friends back. Their whole journey hadn’t ever happened, none of it was real anymore! But if the compass was pointing at him, did that mean…? Could there be a way? His breath caught in his chest as he allowed himself to hope. It was a frail and painful little spark, though it warmed him from the inside. Maybe he could get them back, maybe he could find a way. Maybe this compass really could lead him to his heart’s desire. 

He looked up to see Falmouth saying his goodbyes to Winsmouth, Daemys nowhere to be found. Ashen seemed to be waiting his turn to say his farewell, and Lucas walked over quickly to join, not wanting to give up his last moments with his old friends. He stood next to Ashen as they finished thanking Winsmouth for his help and his patience, then stepped up to Winsmouth as the two others turned away. 

“Lucas, you coming?” Ashen asked, looking back at the half-elf. 

“It’s alright.” Lucas waved him on. “I actually have something I’d like to ask Winsmouth, but thank you. You go on without me, I’ll try to catch up if this doesn’t take too long.” 

Lucas smiled at Ashen, and…was that a blush spreading on Ashen’s face? Ashen quickly shrugged and ducked away, and Falmouth took his place, resting a tentacle on Lucas’ shoulder.  

“It was nice getting to know you. I hope we meet again in the future.” 

Lucas blinked a couple of times, absolutely not trying to clear his vision. He was just surprised was all. 

“Of course, Falmouth. I know we only met a couple of times, but I’d be honoured if I could call you friend.” 

Falmouth seemed taken aback, but very soon another tentacle rested on Lucas’ other shoulder. And another on his hand. And another seemed to be creeping around his back in a slight hug. 

“I like having friends. Yes, we can be friends.” 

Falmouth released Lucas after a quick pat on his hand, and he and Ashen left, Lucas staying behind with Winsmouth. He clicked open the compass again, finding that it was quickly becoming a soothing habit. He glanced down, and stopped, frowning. The needle was pointing again to the right, to the wall with the bookshelf, though Ashen and Falmouth had left out of the door directly in front of him. Could he have been wrong? If getting his friends back wasn’t his heart’s desire, then what was? 

As the thought came to him, the needle quivered, then swung to point straight at the door. So he wasn’t wrong? It was pointing straight at where Ashen and Falmouth had left. So he had been right to begin with, his desire was his friends- 

The thought cut off as the needle swung again to point towards the wall. He arched an eyebrow at the needle, then closed the compass and tucked it away, resolving to figure it out later. He turned to Winsmouth, clenching his hands into fists as he quashed down a sliver of hope that rose in him. 

“I hope it’s alright if I take a bit of your time, Winsmouth. I wanted to ask a couple of questions about this compass, if you’d be amenable to answer.” 

Winsmouth nodded graciously and gestured to the chair across from his desk, inviting Lucas to sit with him. 

“Of course, I’m happy to answer any questions you might have. If I may mention, you seemed quite off put by the compass earlier, have you discovered something about it that troubles you?” 

“Not quite,” Lucas said, smiling a little painfully. “Not about the compass, at any rate.” 

Silence fell in the room as Lucas paused to collect his thoughts. Winsmouth looked on quizzically. 

“My first question,” Lucas asked hesitantly in the quiet of the office, “is if the compass would ever lead one to impossible desires.” 

“That is a very good question, and one I may have an answer to.” Winsmouth steepled his fingers and rested his beak on them. “You see, the compass is extremely powerful, and as such, it finds ways to make even the most unlikely of events come to pass. However,” here he hesitated, choosing his next words carefully, “the compass cannot control other people or their emotions. If one’s deepest desire was to be loved by another person, say, said person would have complete free will to choose what they wanted. The compass would just lead the bearer to their heart’s desire, and make certain that there was a scenario where getting the desire would be possible. But in such a situation, no outcome is guaranteed.” 

Lucas nodded, feeling relieved about that even though the thought hadn’t occurred to him in the first place. Winsmouth continued, seeing that Lucas was following so far. 

“As for truly impossible desires… those are so rare as to be non-existent. I would be hard pressed to find an example of a desire that could not be fulfilled by a properly powerful being; fiend, deity, or otherwise. Not to mention that there are powerful magics that can bring about a Wish…” 

Lucas felt his heart stop. A Wish? Could it be that easy? But no, even if it could work, it wouldn’t be easy. He realized that Winsmouth was still talking, and quickly refocused on what the owl was saying. 

“-I suppose it wouldn’t, as it wouldn’t have the power of potential of the desire to work off, so you can be reasonably certain that your desire is possible.” 

Winsmouth removed his glasses and polished them on his robes, trying to remove a smudge. He smiled at Lucas as he raised his eyebrows. 

“Did that answer your question?” 

“Yes, thank you,” Lucas said, “but I find that the answer raised a couple more, if that’s alright?” 

Winsmouth gestured magnanimously for Lucas to continue, and so he did. His heart was racing and his palms were sweaty where they were gripping his travel cloak. 

“If, say, there was an item powerful enough to grant a Wish such as this, but it had been used already to grant a Wish, do you think it would work a second time?” 

Winsmouth shook his head doubtfully, but Lucas continued before he could speak. 

“I mean to say, it had been used to grant a Wish, but the Wish itself had caused a paradox in which the item would never have had to be used in the first place.” Lucas was speaking in a rush, knowing that he was being unclear, but unable to find the right words in the moment. “If, say, it had been used to turn back time and undo the event that required it in the first place...wouldn’t that create a timeline in which it wasn’t already used?” 

Lucas waited with bated breath as Winsmouth stroked his beak, thoughtful. 

“I will admit, I have never heard of such an instance,” Winsmouth started, speaking slowly. He cast a sidelong glance at Lucas. “I won’t question you right now, as you seem to be in somewhat of a state, but I am very curious as to why you might be asking this question. As for the scenario you gave...” here he paused again, hesitant. “I would be hard pressed to give you an educated guess, let alone a concrete answer. Objects so powerful are extremely rare and so documentation of how they work is even more so. I would hate to give you false hope. However, if this object does, in fact, exist, and you do have access to it... there is a chance- however small- that it could work. I must say, the odds are not in your favour there. It’s much more likely that the charge will have been used and that it will not work again.” 

Lucas swallowed nervously, then met Winsmouth’s gaze. 

“Regardless, I have to try.” 

Winsmouth nodded, looking at Lucas with newfound respect in his eyes. 

“Is there anything I could do to help? I find myself moved by your mission. If there’s anything that I can do to make your journey easier, please let me know.” 

“Thank you, Winsmouth, but I believe that this is something I must do on my own.” Suddenly, a thought occurred to Lucas and he hesitated. Oh, God, he hoped Ellorie was okay. “Just, if I could ask for one favour, I’d appreciate it if you could keep an eye on Fraulein Wildred von Rheinhausen. I worry that she is not all that she seems.” 

“Wildred von Rheinhausen?” Winsmouth asked, eyebrow raised once more. “I would be careful with what I said if I were you. Wildred is a very well trusted advisor of the king and court, not to mention one of Princess Ellorie’s tutors.” 

Lucas bit his lip, unsure what to say next. Luckily, Winsmouth seemed to soften, and he continued after a moment. 

“However, I can see that you are genuinely concerned. Coupling that with the fact that I cannot fathom for what nefarious purpose you would tell me this...” he heaved a gusty sigh, and the feathers on his neck ruffled before settling again. “I will keep an eye out. I do worry for Ellorie, precocious as she is.” 

“One last request, if I may?” asked Lucas, feeling slightly awkward after his near disaster. He continued when Winsmouth gestured for him to, hoping that he wasn’t stretching the goodwill offered to him here. “If my journey requires research, may I return and make use of your library? I would greatly appreciate it. I don’t know if...” 

Winsmouth smiled at him brightly, seeming genuinely delighted at the question. He offered his hand to the half-elf for him to shake. 

“What knowledge of mine you desire is yours, friend. I would never deny someone access to information. I hope you find what you’re looking for. May the winds stay steady under your wings and your skies be bright and clear.” 

Lucas shook Winsmouth’s hand, allowing the conversation to come to a close. He thanked Winsmouth profusely and placed his compass carefully in its protective box before gathering his things and leaving. 

Chapter Text

Lucas made his way out of the castle the next morning, having taken the king up on the offer of the room for the night. He had done some light research in the afternoon, looking up gelatinous cubes and what they might be vulnerable to, as well as some reading on the religion of the ancient temple. He had realized at some point during the day that the dwarf woman was most likely still trapped in the cube, as in this universe- in this timeline- they had never gone back to save her. Even if the dragon tooth necklace didn’t work, he had realized grimly, he would still have to go back to help her. So, early that morning, he had packed up his bags, thanked the king and Winsmouth for their patience and generosity, and left. It felt good when he was finally on horseback, clip-clopping down the path towards home with Thunderclap.

As they headed towards the small village he’d called home for the past month, he thought over his upcoming trip. He would have to make sure to bring enough provisions for the long journey, as well as travel clothes, his flint and steel, his mending kit… and an assortment of weapons, of course. When he got back to the village, he’d have to write down all he had remembered about his previous journey. It hadn’t been easy to travel through the temple the first time around; it would be even harder if he couldn’t remember what and where the traps were. It had been a month since he’d made the trip. Luckily, he remembered most of it, though the details were fading. He had to write down the directions, the correct tiles to step on… he wouldn’t have Falmouth this time to stop the boulder, or Ellorie to help with the cube, or-

Lucas pulled back on the reins, stopping his horse suddenly on the path. In the silence of the isolated forest road, he heard his heart thundering in his chest.

Daemys. How was he going to get in? He needed Daemys to open the doors for him. He had no stone magic! How was he going to get in? Feeling his breathing quickening, he tried to rationalize with himself, calm himself down. It was fine. He could find some other member of a secret, traitorous cult…

Feeling lightheaded, he dismounted and walked over to a nearby tree. He found himself sliding down, clutching his arms close to his chest, until he was sitting against the trunk. His head tilted back, hitting the bark. There was a pressure behind his eyes- a dam waiting to burst. Who was he kidding? The journey was over before it had even begun. He would never get his friends back- he should have accepted that to begin with. Hope was the tool of fools. How had he let himself fall for it? He clutched his arms tight, trying to ground himself against the despair rising up. There was something hard pressing into his ribs where he was holding himself and as he drew in choking breaths, he felt… what was that? It was like- it was like a tiny heartbeat, beating in time with his own. He frowned, opening his eyes, and unclenched his hands to reach into his pocket. He pulled out a small, simple wooden box.

The compass! Of course. As long as I have the compass, it won’t lead me wrong, thought Lucas, flipping the lid open and gently taking the compass into his hands. He cradled it against his heart for a few moments, allowing the small but steady heartbeat to calm him. It should have been unnerving. It really should have. But for some reason, he found it comforting. Eventually, he felt calm enough to remount his horse. He slid the compass back in his pocket, taking it out once more when he was settled back in the saddle. He flipped the lid open, still marveling at the beautiful design, and watched the needle swing. Whereas before the needle had pointed without hesitation, now it seemed almost unsure of itself, swinging back and forth before settling. It was pointing directly into the forest to the left of the path. Lucas frowned down at the compass, closed it, spun it around and then opened it up again. The compass did its little dance again, spinning around, pointing back the way he came, forward down the path, slightly to the right, then, quivering, left into the forest. Unsure if this was regular behaviour for the compass, Lucas was hesitant to continue on the path indicated. Having no other plan, however, he decided to put his trust in the small golden device and turned Thunderclap off the path and into the brush. He hoped that this was just a fluke and that he wasn’t following a faulty compass, as that seemed to be a decidedly bad idea.

He made his careful way through the foliage of the forest, riding Thunderclap slowly. After about half an hour of this, Lucas finally admitted defeat and dismounted. It would be both faster and safer to make his way by foot, as much as it felt slower. There were places in the forest where the trees were far enough apart, the branches were high enough, and the underbrush sparce enough for a horse and rider to move freely. Unfortunately, this area wasn’t quite so forgiving. Lucas acknowledged to himself that leading Thunderclap on by foot, he would make much better time. After all, if he or his horse were to twist an ankle on the uneven forest floor, his whole journey would have to be delayed.

He was so focused on the treacherous ground beneath his feet and the compass in his hand that he nearly stumbled and fell when the trees suddenly opened up in front of him. He blinked a couple of times, squinting in the direct sunlight after so long in the shade of the trees. He shaded his eyes, looking around. It was a small clearing, maybe a few feet across each way, with a stream running through the opposite side to where he was standing. He noticed the horse drinking from the stream, but his eyes settled on a robed figure sitting cross-legged on the ground. Lucas felt his knees go weak with relief. The compass hadn’t led him wrong after all.

Daemys was sitting and eating an apple, clearly enjoying a break from his travels. Trying his best not to startle the man, Lucas approached cautiously. Daemys looked up at him, wary at first, then exasperation crossing his face as he recognized Lucas.

“What’s going on? Are you following me?” Daemys asked grimly, hand discreetly slipping into his robe. Lucas would have bet anything that there was a knife hidden under there. He raised his hands placatingly as he responded.

“Not exactly,” he said, mind racing. He had to phrase this very carefully, so that Daemys would agree to accompany him. He didn’t want him refusing, or, God forbid, going off on his own to the temple. “I just came across an opportunity at the castle and I… as much as I hate to admit it, I believe I’ll need your help.”

Daemys raised an eyebrow at the half-elf.

“Go on.”

Lucas held his breath, hopeful. Daemys wasn’t looking at him like he was crazy- in fact, he looked contemplative. Lucas had just finished outlining his whole plan, though he had omitted some details, like where and what the traps are and the end goal. He worried that if he mentioned the dragon tooth necklace, Daemys might not want to share the treasure. Besides, he didn’t even know if it would work! Instead, he had focused on the material treasure of the temple, as well as the rich history and art of the place. Daemys was lost in thought, picking apart the core of his apple and flicking the seeds onto the grass at his feet. Sweating, Lucas sat as still as he could, waiting for Daemys’ verdict. He needed Daemys to come with him, but he didn’t want to put him off with his desperation. Eventually, Daemys broke the silence.

“So, you need me to come with you to help you get into the temple itself. What I don’t understand is why I need you there. What are you bringing to this arrangement?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

“Well, as it happens, I know where the temple itself is, as well as all the traps and tricks for getting through safely. I have done extensive research and I’m sure that I can get us through anything the temple might throw at us,” Lucas responded firmly. He was not happy to have to trust this man again. Especially as there was a very likely chance that he was still in the cult. It had done the man some good to be part of the team when they had gotten the dragon tooth necklace the first time. Maybe doing it a second time (while remembering the trip) would help him.

Daemys was nodding at Lucas’ statement, seemingly conceding the point. Finally, he threw the remnants of his apple core towards the stream, where his horse trotted over to eat the small treat.

“Alright, Lucas, I’m intrigued by the temple. If you agree to split whatever we find there fifty-fifty, I’ll join.”

“Yes, any treasure we find there we’ll split evenly,” Lucas said, careful to leave the Wish out of the terms. He couldn’t care less about gold or treasure, Daemys could take all of it as far as he was concerned. But he would leave no room for dispute on the Wish. Daemys held out his hand and they shook on it, sealing the deal.

“When do you want to leave?” Daemys asked as he stood and brushed off his robes. Lucas stood as well, going over to Thunderclap to look over the tack and saddle, making sure nothing had gotten knocked loose on their journey through the forest.

“To be honest, I was going to go back to the village I’ve been staying in to pack up, then leave straight from there. I don’t know what you were planning on doing, but the sooner we leave, the sooner we can get back.”

“There’s truth in that,” Daemys said. “I was going to travel straight to my keep to set up there, so I brought most of my travel gear to the palace with me. I don’t need anything more, so if you want to set off now, I’ll come with you.”

Lucas nodded gratefully, glad there wouldn’t be any more complications from bringing Daemys in. They both led their horses out of the forest depths and onto the path. When they remounted, Lucas took the lead and they set off together.

When they finally arrived outside the Stumble Inn, Lucas dismounted and led his horse to the stables. Daemys followed behind. When they had assured that the horses were comfortable and taken care of, they entered the inn, Lucas waving a greeting to the innkeeper as they passed. Daemys looked around, his eyebrows drawn together and a slight frown on his face.

“Are we…” He hesitated. “Are we stopping here for a reason?”

Lucas felt his cheeks flush, feeling his loneliness of the past month all the more acutely.

“I’ve been staying here,” he said shortly. “I knew we were getting lands at the palace, I didn’t think it important to find different accommodations.”

Daemys nodded, not seeming overly concerned about the unfriendliness in Lucas’ tone- aside from a sharp glance tossed his way. Lucas felt a touch of shame as Daemys remained silent, so he ushered him over to a chair and requested a late lunch for him from the innkeeper.

“There’s no reason for you to be uncomfortable while I pack up. You stay here and enjoy the food, I’ll join you when I’m done. It’s worthwhile to get in a good meal before we leave, regardless. You never know what will happen on the road.”

They left within the hour, packed up with all the equipment necessary for the long journey ahead. They rode in companionable silence for the most part, each occupied with their own thoughts. As night began to fall, they agreed to look for a place to set up camp. As it was a clear night, they found a clearing that would be just about big enough to bed them and their horses and began to prepare for the night. They each spread out their bedrolls, forgoing tents in the small space, and Lucas built a fire pit while Daemys looked for firewood. When they had a nice pile, Lucas knelt down and brought a spell to the front of his mind. He could create a bonfire, a useful little cantrip he had learnt on the road a long time ago. It was so much more effective than sitting for half an hour with flint and steel, trying to get a spark going. Lucas waved his hand at the wood and started to turn to his bed before doing a double take. The wood was untouched. He frowned, putting his hands on the wood and concentrating. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow and he held his breath, putting his all into the spell. The wood remained cold under his fingers. What was going on? He hadn’t had trouble with this spell since- well, ever. Lucas closed his eyes, reaching deep within, where the power for his magic had rested for year upon year-

He jumped to his feet, breathing fast, his heart racing. It was gone. It was just- it wasn’t there. He looked around wildly, as if he would be able to see the reason for his magic disappearing hiding in the trees, laughing at him. All he saw was Daemys looking at him strangely from across the clearing. Had he done something-? That bastard! Lucas stalked over, hands clenched, blood boiling. What had Daemys done to him? As he drew nearer, Daemys took a step back, hand hovering near his hidden dagger.

“What are you doing?” Daemys’ rough voice broke through the red haze in Lucas’ eyes. He stopped suddenly, seeing the confusion and suspicion on Daemys’ face, and did an about face. Breath still coming fast, Lucas walked into the forest, step by deliberate step. When he was sure he was too far to be heard by the other man, he began pacing back and forth, his thoughts tumbling over one another too fast for even him to follow. He walked up to a nearby tree, looking up at the branches before letting out a pained cry, his fist flying into the rough bark of the trunk. Knuckles scraped and bleeding, he sank down to the forest floor, tears streaming down his face. He cradled his injured hand with his good one, head bowed, feeling utterly defeated. Daemys hadn’t done anything. That much was clear from the confusion on his face. He hadn’t looked even the smallest bit guilty. But then what was happening? Why couldn’t he access his magic? And how would he take on this massive quest without it?

Lucas wiped at his wet cheeks, breathing having calmed a little bit after his outburst. He found that he could think a little more rationally now that he was away from the camp, away from the unlit fire. So, his magic was gone, by why? Well, he had started practicing magic…so long ago. It was right after-

The thought hit him like a thunderclap. Of course. It had started after his contract with the devil had been signed. Now that the contract was null and void, he had also lost his powers. Lucas felt achingly empty. No friends, no home, no magic… what was even left? As Lucas sat in the dark of a nighttime forest, surrounded by trees and silence, he felt… utterly spent. What was the point of it all?

A small noise interrupted his despairing thoughts. He swatted at his head, thinking it a strange bug. But… that wasn’t a buzzing, was it? Lucas cocked his head, trying to discern the quiet sound. It was a… ticking? The compass! Of course. They had been following it all day. Lucas took it out once more, looking at its golden surface. It lay innocently in his hand, ticking quietly. He flipped the lid open and held it flat. The needle swung back and forth again before pointing in the direction of the temple. Lucas clutched tight at the compass. If it was still pointing somewhere, there was still something to fight for. He would get them back. He would!

Lucas walked back toward the camp, stumbling a little over unseen rocks and roots underfoot. When he made it back, he made a beeline for the unlit fire. Daemys was paying him no heed, sitting on his bedroll and sharpening his sword. Working deliberately and with determination, Lucas got out his flint and steel and set about building up the fire,. His hands somehow remained steady, though his thoughts continued their frenzied dance in his mind. He was no longer a warlock. He would have to accept that and move on, or else go back to the devil and…

Lucas shuddered at the thought of signing his soul away for a second time. That definitely wasn’t an option. He had been so young and naïve when he had made the deal, he had had no idea what it would entail. However, not having access to his magic now… he didn’t know where to go from here. What did it mean to not be a warlock? What did that actually mean to him?

Freedom. The thought popped into his mind, and with it he felt a weight lift from him. That is what it meant, wasn’t it? Yes, he might have to work harder now, build himself back up from the bottom, but he was free. Lucas sat by the newly ignited fire, untouched by any magic that had held him in its claws, and warmed his hands. If he had tried to speak, he would have found it difficult to make himself heard past the lump in his throat. Luckily- or perhaps not- there was no one there with whom Lucas wanted to speak. Instead, he went quietly to his bedroll on the cold, hard ground, wrapped himself in it and went to sleep.

Chapter Text

Lucas and Daemys looked up at the imposing temple. They had traveled hard and fast for two weeks, neither wanting to prolong the journey. Slowly, they had gained a mutual respect for one another, though it had been somewhat begrudging. Lucas looked back over at Daemys, mouth open to ask about opening the temple, but snapped it shut in surprise when he saw the look on his face. Daemys was gazing up at the temple in child-like wonder. Tears glistened, unshed, in his eyes. He turned to Lucas, clearly emotional.

“Thank you. You can never understand what this means to me- to be able to see such a historical piece of my religion. I’ll never forget this pilgrimage with you.” Daemys reached out and clasped Lucas’ shoulder tight. “I owe you a debt for this.”

Lucas stared at Daemys. Never in a thousand years had he expected to find him in such a state. He could see nothing but sincerity in Daemys’ eyes, yet he could not recall this fervour the last time they had made this journey. Perhaps it was because Daemys was still connected to the cult. Or maybe it was because this time he was doing it of his own free will, accompanied by only one other person with whom he had no memories- good or bad. Whatever the reason, Lucas felt a warmth grow in his heart for the other man. Perhaps there was hope for him after all.

Lucas reached out to Daemys as well and they stood together in a semi-embrace for a few moments. Eventually, Daemys let go and turned away, wiping his face discreetly with the corner of his sleeve. Politely pretending not to notice, Lucas gestured at the mountain in front of them.

“I believe there’s a keyhole somewhere in the wall of the mountain,” he said, unsure how much to reveal of what he knew, “that only one of the faithful can open. Do you know what is required?”

Daemys looked closely at the mountain, then ducked down to grab a pebble from the ground. Lucas held back a sigh of relief as Daemys gently directed the stone to the small hole as he had done once before. The ground nearly shook the two men off their feet as the mountain split open with a thunderous crack. They started forward, only to be brought to a halt when they saw the small campfire before the entrance.

“Looks like an old camp,” Daemys remarked, kneeling down to feel the ashes. Lucas merely nodded in agreement and scooped up the journal that was lying there innocently. He tucked it into his pack without opening it, already knowing what was inside. They both straightened and headed for the temple, slowing to marvel at its size and beauty. Lucas found that he was not immune to the effects of the temple, even though it was his second time visiting.

As they walked through the ancient halls, he ignored the clues that they had spent time investigating the first time round. After all, he knew already what they would say. Daemys was walking through the halls slowly, with a reverence Lucas had never seen from him. He stopped to read the poem on the wall and Lucas joined him.

“This is… beautiful.” Daemys glanced over his shoulder at Lucas. “Thanks for inviting me to come here with you. You could never have guessed what it meant, but I feel… connected to this place, somehow. That I get to actually- to read these words, to walk these halls-“

Daemys’ words broke off, eyes glistening once more as he looked around the entrance hall in wonder. Taken aback, Lucas stared at Daemys. This was the most he had heard the man speak in the entire two weeks of travel. The man had, until now, seemed to communicate solely in grunts.

“I never thought something like this could happen,” Daemys continued once he had managed to gather himself, “but I think that if others knew about this place… it wouldn’t be given the respect it deserves.”

Daemys paused once again and Lucas looked around at the dusty halls. He imagined for a moment what it would be like fully restored, turned into an attraction for curious people to come gawk at. The solemn quiet broken by a thousand echoing voices. The air of solitude and peace shattered by bustling bodies. Lucas was jolted out of his thoughts by Daemys clearing his throat.

“I think it would be best if we kept the knowledge of this place to ourselves. Let this temple rest where only the very committed could think of finding it.”

Lucas nodded fervently, the two in complete agreement for once. This place might not mean as much to him as it did to the cleric, but he did feel a certain responsibility for the sanctity of the temple. It had, after all, been the cause of righting a massive wrong in the world. Even if he was the only one who knew that. Even if that same event had been the cause of the biggest wrong in his own life. They moved on together, finally arriving at the trap tiles, and Lucas stopped Daemys with a hand on his shoulder.

“Once we start walking on the stones with the designs,” Lucas said, holding Daemys’ eyes, “a large boulder is going to come thundering down the hall at us. We’re going to have to sprint, and I don’t want you falling into a trap and getting stuck. So, I’m going to tell you the order of tiles to step on and you are going to repeat it back to me so that I know you have it. Got it?”

A glimmer of suspicion rose in Daemys’ eyes. He looked from the floor to Lucas, then back again.

“The reason you invited me here,” he said slowly, “was to get into the temple. How do I know you won’t steer me wrong now?”

Lucas grit his teeth, hands clenched into fists. He had thought they were past this. Clearly, Daemys was still carrying some doubts. Lucas tamped down his frustration with a little difficulty. He knew he would have to reassure Daemys that he had no intention to harm him- the man was extremely stubborn and no amount of convincing would work.

“Fine,” he responded, voice somewhat tight. “I’ll tell you the way, but I’ll go first. That way, you’ll know where to go, but you can also follow me and be sure that there’s no trap waiting for you. Hopefully we’ll still be fast enough.”

Seeming satisfied with the plan, Daemys nodded. Lucas quickly outlined the path and Daemys listened intently.

“We’re going to start with the star, then straight forward to the dragon, then the pictures become unclear, but it’s the tile to the right. From there, we go straight the rest of the way- on to the eye and then the torch.”

The path felt almost as if it was burned into his mind, he could see the pictures clearly though he had only walked these halls once before. It made sense when he thought about it… after all, that one time had been quite memorable. He had poured over the clues with Ashen, having to think faster than he ever had before, a massive, bone crushing boulder thundering its way towards them. He had been so close to seeing it all end. If not for Falmouth’s wall of water and Ashen’s quick reflexes with the wand of change… Lucas shivered. It wasn’t an experience he was likely to forget.

Today, however, it was just him and Daemys. He hoped that would be enough to get them through the temple and to the necklace safely.

The two men barreled through the doorway on the other side of the hallway and slammed the door behind them, panting. They were both jolted forward when a massive crash sounded behind them, the boulder ramming into the door behind them. While Daemys merely stumbled forward before steadying himself, Lucas’ slighter frame was thrown forward onto the floor. He lay there for a few seconds, dazed, then felt a laugh bubble up and out from his chest.

Daemys stood hunched over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. At Lucas’ laugh, he came over to help him up from the floor, casting a strange look his way. Still chuckling, Lucas accepted the offered hand and hoisted himself upright. He dusted himself off, still feeling the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He hadn’t experienced something like that since… well, since he had lost his friends. In a weird way, he had missed these near-death experiences. It did something to the soul to be so close to the end, then to slip past by the narrowest of margins.

Daemys, having recovered from their sprint, walked over to inspect the lever.

“Is there anything here that I should be careful of?” he asked, glancing curiously at the intricate designs on the walls. Lucas shook his head, still slightly winded.

“This room is safe enough for now, but I wouldn’t pull the lever quite yet.” He stretched his shoulders back, feeling a slight ache in the right one where he had hit the floor. He was just thankful it hadn’t been his head. Daemys took a wary step back from the lever, looking at it with suspicion. Lucas chuckled again and shook his head, walking over to Daemys. He was glad to see that the man seemed to trust him a bit more now.

“The lever itself is fine, I promise,” he said, “it’s just that it’ll take us up this shaft.”

Lucas looked up, the word ‘shaft’ echoing around the room, seeming to bounce off the walls of the shaft itself. Daemys followed his gaze, looking at the long, long way up. He looked back at Lucas.

“Is that bad? It looks like that might be where we want to go.”

“Oh, it is,” Lucas said, grinning. “It’s just that up that way is a giant, murderous, gelatinous cube. I thought we might want to catch our breath and plan a battle strategy before jumping on ahead.”

Daemys pulled away from the lever a bit, eyebrows raised in exasperation. He sighed, then looked up the shaft wearily.

“Well, then,” he said, “let’s plan.”

They sat for a good while, discussing plans back and forth. They would come up with an idea, then discard it as too dangerous, or impractical, or too complex.  Finally, after much workshopping, they settled on a plan that was simple- but would hopefully prove effective. Lucas had given over all his knowledge of the cube to Daemys and both had agreed that the cube’s biggest weakness was its speed (or lack thereof,) and its biggest advantage was its ability to completely restrain attackers. Therefore, the plan was simply to attack at a range that was outside of the cube’s reach, with the added bonus that it would be far enough away that it couldn’t engulf them. Daemys, of course, was uniquely suited for this with his newly acquired weapon, while Lucas would have to rely on a bow and arrows. After all, he no longer had his ranged spells that had come with his warlock powers.

While the plan seemed simple, Lucas felt incredibly guilty that they would have to wait for the cube to die before pulling the woman out. They couldn’t plan for it, as Lucas had no idea how he could explain his intricately detailed knowledge of the situation. The temple he could claim was research. He could even make a case for knowing about the gelatinous cube, though it would be harder. But knowing that a woman was trapped inside the cube, alive for years? He had  had to leave that out and hope that they would be able to adapt on the spot.

Eventually, after the discussion had worn thin and they had begun to speak in circles, they stood together at the lever. At a nod from Lucas, Daemys pulled. The platform began to ascend slowly and Lucas waited with baited breath, trying to catch a glimpse of the cube.

“There!” he shouted, pointing. Sure enough, the jiggly mass was moving towards the platform from on high. They dived out of the way, the platform grinding to a halt as soon as they left the lever. The cube fell exactly where Lucas had been standing moments before. Lucas, having been at the ready with an arrow notched on his bow, fired the arrow into the creature's mass. The cube seemed to squirm in discomfort and started making its slow yet steady way towards him when it was interrupted by a swinging sword. Daemys was standing safely on the other side of the platform, directing the sword from afar. He seemed to have noticed the woman inside the cube as his swings were a safe distance away from her. They fought furiously, sticking to their plan, though Lucas had been too slow to dodge the acid tentacles a couple of times, and at one point Daemys had tried pulling the poor woman out and had nearly gotten engulfed himself. Eventually, though, the cube melted. The room grew quiet with only the sound of heavy breathing filling the air. Lucas walked over to the dwarf woman lying on the floor and offered her a hand. She accepted it gratefully, looking more the worse for wear after an indefinite amount of time in an acidic cube.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently, offering her his waterskin. She took a long, slow drink, then nodded as she replaced the cap. She handed it back to him, closed her eyes and breathed deeply, hands resting on her knees. After a few moments, she looked up at Lucas and smiled.

“Thank you so much for rescuing me… it was horrible in there. Do you- have you seen my friends? They should be around here somewhere.” She looked around, as if she would find them hiding in the non-existent corners of the perfectly circular chamber.

Lucas felt a sinking feeling in his gut as he remembered this part of the rescue. She had no idea…

He reached into his pack and pulled out the journal he had found. He held it out to her. She took it from him, confusion written all over her features.

“Would this have belonged to one of your party?” he asked quietly.

She looked at the journal, turning the old cracked leather over in her hands. She brushed dust off the cover.

“I don’t think it does, where did you-“ she cut off with a gasp as she opened the journal, seeing the familiar handwriting of Arthur B. D.. She sank down to sit on the floor, clutching the journal in her hands. She began flipping through the old, fragile pages carefully. “But how…? We just came here about a week ago and then I got stuck in that horrible monster. How can this- it can’t have been… more than- more than a week…” her voice trailed off into silence.

Lucas’ stomach sank as he realized the truth. Time must have been wonky in that cube. At the very least, it might have felt wonky to her. Which meant that while it felt like mere days had passed for her, years upon years had passed in the outside world. Lucas felt his chest ache, heart breaking for the young woman. He remembered with sudden, vivid clarity waking up in that dungeon that cold morning. Learning that his friends were lost to him in every way that mattered. Learning that he was alone. He crouched down next to her, gently taking the journal out of her unresisting hands and closing it, setting it down on the ground next to her. She continued staring at her now empty hands, eyes seeming to be turned inward, to the past. Lucas reached out slowly and took her hands in his, trying to ground her in this moment with him. Slowly, patiently, he spoke to her softly, gently encouraging her to look at him. Once she was focused on him he spoke more firmly, but no less kindly.

“Look at me… it’s going to be okay. We’re here with you now, and we’re not going anywhere. We’ll help you through this,” Lucas assured her. Though she still seemed to be far away, her eyes were now shining with tears. Lucas supposed that was normal. Heavens knows it took him longer to recover from his own… experiences. Lucas remained crouched there, murmuring his reassurances over and over as long as it seemed she needed it. Eventually, she took her hands back to rub at her face, seemingly back to herself for the most part. Lucas slipped an arm around her shoulders, encouraging her to stand up. She followed his guidance, coming to her feet, clutching at his cloak. She took a few deep breaths, clearly trying to pull herself together. She smiled a watery grin at Lucas as she realized she was still clutching at him and muttered an apology as she took a step away. She seemed to sway as she lost the support but caught herself before Lucas could move to help. He watched her carefully, brows knitted in concern. He knew from first hand experience what a shock like this can do to a person. He just hoped that with them here to help soften the blow, maybe she would be… well, not okay, but more okay than she would have been otherwise. She caught him watching and smiled bravely- a thin façade, badly hiding the fear beneath.

“I guess there’s nowhere for an adventurer to go but onward, right?” She said, looking to Lucas. He nodded, holding his emotions in check in a vice-like grip. How he wished he had even half her strength.

“Right.” He cleared his throat, then reached down and grabbed the journal from the floor, handing it to her once again. “Why don’t you come travel with us for a bit? At least until you can get your bearings and your feet under you? We’d appreciate the company, wouldn’t we Daemys?”

Daemys, who had been sticking to the background, letting Lucas handle the distressed woman, nodded unenthusiastically. Lucas sent a silent prayer of thanks that Daemys had decided to follow his lead. The last thing he needed was the surly man making the situation more difficult.

"What was your name again?” he asked as he led the way to the control lever.

“Medna,” she answered, a hint of a smile gracing her lips. “You?”

“I’m Lucas.” With that, Lucas pulled the lever. The three turned their gazes upwards once more as the platform continued its slow ascent up the shaft.

Chapter Text

The three companions stepped off the platform when they reached the top of the shaft. As their eyes adjusted to the bright light up here, Lucas immediately sought out the platform with the dragon tooth necklace.

His heart dropped to his boots. Sitting there, atop a pedestal on the glowing platform, was a blackened and cracked form of a dragon’s tooth. The length of it was blistered, as if scorched by intense flame. Letting out a pained cry, Lucas rushed forward- forgetting the effect of the glowing platform completely- and stumbled as his feet touched it. As he fell to his knees, a vision struck him. Falmouth was grumbling and looking for water as he started to dry out, tentacles flopping as he spun about. Daemys was free of the cult, meditating in the sunlight, face relaxed and smooth. Ellorie was dancing in a garden, a book lying open on the grass next to her. She ran up to a figure sitting in the grass, giving him a big hug. Ashen looked up with a twinkle in his eye, roguish grin on his face as he made a vaguely offensive joke. His horns glittered in the sun as he laughed, his face turned up to the sky. Lucas was there, with all of them, in that moment. He was in every moment with them, watching their friendship grow, watching their lives continue together, intertwined, knowing that they would always have each other no matter what. He was the sunlight, he was the grass, he was the water, the warmth, the laughter. He was time passing, he was the growth, he was the happiness in each. Then, suddenly, he was back in his own body, gasping on the floor next to the platform.

“Lucas! Lucas! What’s the matter with you? Come on, snap out of it!” Daemys’ voice finally penetrated through the fog of dreams that was Lucas’ mind. Daemys and Medna were standing over him, holding him up, having clearly just dragged him off the edge of the glowing platform. He pulled away slightly, giving himself a little room.

“I’m back, Daemys. I’m fine.” Lucas’ voice broke on the last word, giving him away. He turned away from the other two, angrily scrubbing at his face.

“Lucas, what’s going on? Are you alright?” He felt Medna come up behind him and shrugged off the hand put on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” he repeated, not willing to share what had just happened. Not only was she a complete stranger, he… just didn’t want to talk. Not now, not with anyone. He looked up at the necklace, knowing with complete certainty that the magic was gone. It… it felt wrong. Wrung out. Used up. Like it had served its purpose and was now waiting patiently for death to come and take it. He turned away from it, feeling… betrayed? It was just a necklace, yet it felt as if a close friend had just stabbed him in the back. He made his way back to the moving platform, shoulders heavy.

Daemys and Medna exchanged glances behind him.

“Lucas, we should take the necklace. It’s damaged, yeah, but it’s gonna be valuable out there anyway. Especially if we could get it repaired with magic,” Daemys said, ever the practical one.

Lucas shrugged, not moving from his spot on the platform. He knew that the necklace was useless now, at least to him. Let them take it if they wanted. There was no way to give it its magic back. This entire trip had been a waste of time. He stood there listlessly, hand resting on the lever, waiting for the other two to join him so they could begin the journey back. He heard them behind him discussing how to get the necklace without having the platform affect them. Eventually, Daemys seemed to figure out that he could get the necklace from the back and they soon had it in hand. Lucas felt blank, like a slate wiped clean. He had zoned out while they worked out the plan but somewhere in the back of his mind he noticed when Medna approached him cautiously from behind.

“Lucas?” she asked, hesitantly. Lucas didn’t move. He stared dully at the wall ahead of him. His hand still rested, limp, on the lever. More hushed voices sounded behind him, then- “Lucas, I think we should go.”

A gentle touch lifted his hand from the lever and Lucas turned his head to look. Was that his hand? He turned it over, looking at it. Funny the things you never noticed about your own hands. Eventually he let his hand fall back to his side. He felt completely numb. At some point, the platform had started moving down the shaft, though he hadn’t noticed. Everything was a blur around him; he felt like a rock at the bottom of a rushing river. He was sure there was a lot happening at the surface, but all he could feel were the currents pushing at him, wearing him down. Everything else was muted. He felt hands leading him along and he followed with no resistance. The next thing he knew he was outside, blinking in the sunlight. Breathing in the fresh air, hearing the birds chirping, he felt his mind return to him a bit. Daemys and Medna were on either side of him, Medna’s hand on his shoulder, seemingly having been the one to lead him out. He breathed deeply again, purging the dusty, stale air of the temple from his lungs. The two other travelers watched him carefully as he stepped away from them, rubbing at his arms.

“Thank you for assisting me, I apologize for my lack of awareness,” he said formally, voice slightly hoarse. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment, I would appreciate some time on my own.”

He stepped away, walking down the hill a short distance. He sat down, leaning against a tree. The view of the forest from the hill of the temple was breathtaking, but Lucas found that he couldn’t enjoy it. What was he to do now? This had been his one avenue of hope, his one chance to fix everything that had gone wrong. He closed his eyes, feeling a tear spill over and slide down his cheek, leaving a chill trail in its wake. He let out a shuddering breath, feeling his dreams slip through his fingers like oil. Not only could he not hold on to them, but their passing left him unable to hold on to anything at all. He wrapped his arms around himself, attempting to stifle a sob rising up. As he buried his head in his arms, he felt the tick-tick of a metallic heartbeat near his own. At that, his despair disappeared in a flash, leaving only a surge of irrational anger. It all came down to that stupid, useless, fucking hunk of metal. He fumbled around his pocket, rage making him clumsy, but finally succeeded in drawing out the compass. Without even a glance at it he hurled it with all his might at a nearby tree, trying to stop that damnable ticking. There was a satisfying thunk, and then… blessed silence. Anger still thrumming through his veins, he stood up to go retrieve it, fully intending to hurl it into the woods and get rid of it forever. As he drew his hand back once more, however, the cover of the compass flipped open, jarred loose by its impact with the tree. He stopped, arm trembling, as the needle spun slowly… then stopped. He lowered it slowly, looking at the new direction the needle was pointing in. And it was pointing in a new direction, no longer directly at the temple behind him. The anger drained from his body, leaving him deflated and shaky. He cradled the compass close, regretting his outburst, looking it over for any sign of damage. The heartbeat, which until now had been silent, returned slowly, faintly. The golden etch work seemed unharmed by his violent actions, and the latch seemed to be in perfect working order, surprisingly. He would have thought with how the cover had flipped open moments ago that it was damaged somehow. Breathing a sigh of relief, he tucked the compass back in his pocket and rejoined Daemys and Medna. They had begun to set up camp in his absence and Lucas joined their preparations for the night, kneeling next to the fire pit they had arranged. Daemys looked up at him.

“You alright?”

Lucas kept his gaze down, focused on the wood he was arranging for the fire. It was nice to have something to keep his hands busy with as he avoided Daemys’ sharp eyes.

“I’m fine,” he replied quietly. His voice was rough, as if he had screamed himself hoarse. He cleared his throat and fidgeted with some branches, placing them this way and that on his stack. Eventually, Daemys went back to peeling some wild roots for the stew. 

Lucas sat back on his heels with a sigh. What were his options now? He could go back to the palace- he was sure Winsmouth would be happy to help him figure out what to do, if only so he could get some answers of his own. That felt… a little bit like giving up, if Lucas was honest with himself. He didn’t know why. It was a valid option but… he just didn’t like it. On the other hand, what were the other options? Travel with Daemys and Medna? To where and to what end? Go back to his own land, administer whatever keeps the king had seen fit to gift him? That definitely would be giving up. He couldn’t just sit back and farm… peasants? What did landowners do anyway? Regardless, taking that path meant giving up on the people who had meant the most to him. And that… that wasn’t an option. He wouldn’t let it be. So he could go back to the palace, or… 

He pulled out the compass once more. He could try just following it, see where it would lead him. Though, after the fiasco at the temple, he was a little hesitant about putting all his faith in it once more. However, of all his options, that was the most palatable one. He sighed, tucking the compass away, and stood up, going over to Daemys to offer his help with dinner.

Lucas awoke with a gasp, the stars twinkling merrily overhead. His heart was racing and his skin felt cold and clammy. The remnants of his dream were slipping away and he was left with only a vague outline, but he had been standing with someone, their face bathed in moonlight… he couldn’t- he couldn’t remember their face. He remembered eyes wet with tears, begging him for something. Then they had been leaning in, so close, their breaths mingling together in the silence of the night. Then-  then he had woken up. He sat up, wiping tears off his face. He breathed in the cool night air, trying to calm his hammering heart. He looked around the campsite, seeing Daemys and Medna sleeping soundly near the embers of the dying fire. Shifting restlessly, he checked his pack next to him, his compass under the head of his bedroll, his cloak draped on a log near the fire… everything was where he left it. So what was wrong? He stood up, feeling wide awake. Looking back again at his two sleeping companions, he understood. He didn’t fit in here. Daemys was fine, just having gone on a successful religious pilgrimage and come out wealthier for it in more than just gold. Medna was working to accept her new place in this world she woke up in after having been trapped in a cube for so long, whereas Lucas…

Well, Lucas was trapped in the past. He felt like he was the wrong shape and size for the world where he had found himself. He felt like… he felt like soup in a bottle. Wrong. He didn’t belong with these two. Suddenly feeling suffocated, he rolled up his bedroll, strapped it to its place on his pack and retrieved his cloak. He surveyed the scene in front of him one last time, silently wishing the two luck on their journeys. As he turned to slip away, a loud crack resounded in the silence and he went crashing down, cook pots banging together as he fell. Frantically looking around him, he cursed internally as he saw a branch that had snapped in half under his foot, sending him flat on his back. He heard a shuffling behind him and tilted his head back, seeing Daemys sitting up, looking at him with a brow raised. Lucas groaned.

“Wha’- what’s going on, Lucas?” Daemys asked, voice deeper than usual from sleep. Lucas stood up, brushing himself off from his fantastic fall. By some miracle, Medna was still fast asleep, snoring softly. Daemys stayed sitting, and Lucas was surprised that he could see both of his hands, empty, at his sides. Maybe he had actually gotten through to the man somewhat.

“I- I’m leaving, Daemys,” Lucas whispered, shrugging his pack up on his shoulders. “I came here looking for something and I didn’t find it. I have to keep going, I need to keep looking…” Lucas trailed off, not knowing how to articulate his turmoil of feelings. “I just- I need to go.”

Lucas was trembling and he couldn’t stop it. He needed the world to go back to the right shape for him. He needed- he needed what he needed this whole time. He needed his friends back.

He noticed Daemys moving only when the man was standing right in front of him, hand resting heavily on his shoulder. He looked up to see Daemys’ concerned eyes locked on his own. He reached up to grasp the hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you for accompanying me to the temple. I couldn’t have done this trip without you. I must go now, but I hope that we shall meet again someday, friend.”

“We will.” Daemys’ voice was low and sincere. “I don’t have too many friends, but I will always consider you one of them, no matter what. I’m sorry this trip didn’t hold answers for you, but I’ll pray for your future journeys. It’s been an honour.”

Suddenly, Lucas felt himself being pulled in and he found himself wrapped in the most unlikely of embraces. Shocked, he stood frozen for a couple moments before responding in kind. He felt warmth seep through him as he realized that maybe he did change something, even if it wasn’t quite what he wished. Maybe, despite the lack of memories, he had managed to change Daemys’ story for the better.

As the two parted ways, each looked back. One felt an unexpected hope for the days to come, the other a small pang of loss, though he couldn’t quite…

Daemys shrugged off the odd feeling and lay back down, drifting off to peaceful slumber once more.

Chapter Text

Lucas wiped the sweat off his brow as he dismounted.  The days were getting warmer as the summer was quickly approaching, and he had been riding hard all morning. He patted Thunderclap’s neck fondly and gave a cursory glance over the bridle and bit, checking for wear and tear. Seeing everything in good condition, he led her off the trail to a flat-topped rock on the side of the road. He pulled out a ration of waybread, sat down on the rock and began to eat his noon meal. Lucas sighed, feeling acutely alone on the forest road. He had left Daemys and Medna only a week ago and he hadn’t met another traveler on the road so far. He had been following the compass, which was taking him back in the direction of the palace. He hoped he might find what the compass was leading him towards soon. He wasn’t sure how long he could spend alone. Though he would never be described as a social butterfly, he wasn’t quite used to this level of isolation.

Lucas finished his meal and stood, stretching. He whistled to get Thunderclap’s attention, who was cropping the grass on the side of the road. She clip-clopped over, whinnying happily and tossing her mane. Lucas smiled at the horse’s carefree joy and prepared to mount up and continue his journey. Suddenly, he froze, one foot in the stirrup. The breeze had shifted, blowing at him from further down the path, bringing with it faint strains of music. He stood stock-still for a moment, trying to discern if it was actually music or if he was imagining it. Eventually, however, he jumped on Thunderclap’s back, urging her forward down the path. His heart lifted as the music got louder with every step they took. As they rounded a bend in the road, he met a most welcome sight. A tinker was sitting just off the path, her bags and wares laying nearby in a horse-drawn carriage. The horse itself was not hooked up to the cart and was a short distance away, basking in the sunlight. Lucas reined in Thunderclap and leaped off the horse's back, glad to see another person after so long on the road alone. He stretched, muscles sore from the saddle, and made his way over to the bard. As he approached, the woman set down her half harp, letting the music fade into silence. She smiled and waved him over.

“Ho there, stranger! What brings you to this neck of the woods?” she asked, standing to greet him.

“Just traveling through,” Lucas replied with a smile, shaking the hand offered to him. She had a firm handshake, he noted to himself, impressed. That was important. “I heard the sound of your playing and couldn’t help but investigate. It was a lovely song.”

The tall woman smiled wistfully.

“Ah, yeah, it’s one me and my sisters made up together. I haven’t seen them in a while now.”

They sat together, enjoying a moment of companionship in an otherwise often lonely journey. They chatted for a bit, discussing the weather, the road, and all the other inane things that make up small talk with a stranger.

Persephone, as she had introduced herself to Lucas by that point, had told him all about her family back home. How she had started this journey as a traveling physician to bring the groundbreaking medicine her people had discovered to anyone who needed. When they had not been receptive to her medicines, she had started a side business as a tinker- after all, people always needed new knives, and they tended to take her advice about healing more seriously when she wasn’t plying it as a trade. Lucas, in turn, had told her of his work in the underground, how he had worked undercover to take down the immoral and corrupt. As their conversation wound down, Persephone cast a side-long glance at Lucas. She had a look on her face that he just couldn’t figure out for the life of him.

“Just spit it out, would you?” Lucas said finally, tired of the not-so-subtle looks from his companion.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just- had a question. I just don’t know if it’ll be welcome coming from me.” Persephone said, twisting the hem of her sleeve in her fingers. When Lucas nodded for her to continue, she did. “It’s just that… you have the look of someone who’s searching for something. Can I ask…?”

Persephone trailed off as the easy smile slid off Lucas’ face. Lucas looked away from her, fiddling with the grass at his feet as memories of his fruitless quest to Ottermore. He plucked a few blades and began plaiting them as he thought about how to answer the stranger sitting across from him. As the silence stretched on, Persephone looked more and more uncomfortable. Finally, she seemed to lose her nerve and began speaking, words tumbling out of her mouth in a rush.

“I mean, you don’t have to tell me, I know you don’t know me at all. It’s just, I don’t meet many people but I’m very good at reading them, and you seemed kind of sad and restless, and I don’t mean to presume, obviously you don’t have to share, but I thought maybe…I could…help…” She trailed off again, seeming more nervous than before. She seemed to be biting her mouth, stopping herself from speaking more. Lucas was staring at her nonplussed.

“I’m… sorry? You want to help? What are you talking about?”

“Oh!” Persephone waved at the cart sitting nearby. “I’m a traveling physician, like I told you, but my work as a tinker often brings me to rare magical items. I have some powerful artifacts here with me, and I know of more that I can get if they would be useful. I can’t promise that they’d help, but if they can… well, I’d like to do what I can for anyone in need.”

Lucas hesitated for only a moment. If there’s any chance she could help …

He took a deep breath and began to outline his story. He spoke short and fast, leaving it as brief as he could, trying to avoid any emotion. He could tell that he hadn’t been as successful as he had hoped from the look on Persephone’s face. When he had finished, ending with the unsuccessful trip to find the dragon tooth necklace, silence fell between the two. Then-

“I’m so sorry, Lucas.”

Lucas turned away, swiping at his treacherous eyes. Why was he still so affected by all this? He should be over it by now, shouldn’t he? Persephone hesitated for a second before reaching out and putting a hand on Lucas’ arm, squeezing briefly, then pulling back.

“Well,” she said slowly, stretching out the word. Lucas leaned closer, feeling a glimmer of hope in his chest. “I don’t have any artifacts that can reverse a Wish.”

His heart plummeted, leaving him struggling to breathe, his chest achingly empty. He turned away from Persephone fully, bowing his head and letting the shame begin to eat at him. How dared he allow himself to believe, even for a second, that she could help him? How could he have been so foolish? Everything seemed to be crashing down around him, becoming too much when a hand fell on his shoulder. He jumped up and whipped around to face her, throwing off her hand in the same motion. He was suddenly towering over her sitting form.

“Get off me. You act as if you care, like you understand what I’m going through . You tell me that maybe you can help me, that you have powerful magics- but where are they? Why can’t any of them help me ? Why can’t anything ever help me? ” Lucas was panting, out of breath, angry tears streaking down his face. He felt hot and cold all at once, his hands were shaking, his skin clammy. He stormed away from a shocked Persephone, not giving her a chance to get any words out. He walked up to a tree, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the trunk, trying to control his breathing. In and out. Forcing deep breaths, he began counting them off. One. Another breath. Two. Another. Three.

Eyes still closed, he focused on the scents of the forest. The tree he was leaning against was oak, reminding him of nights around campfires. There were flowers nearby, giving off a pleasant perfume, distant enough not to be overpowering. He didn’t recognise the type by scent. It had rained last night and the fresh smell hadn’t yet faded away. He breathed deeply yet again, then tensed as he heard shuffling footsteps behind him. He stayed where he was, leaning against the oak, and felt guilt seep in. Persephone really hadn’t deserved his outburst.

“I-“

“I’m sorry.” They both began speaking at the same time and stopped. Finally, Lucas continued, turning around to apologise properly. “I’m sorry I spoke to you like that. You didn’t deserve it,” he said quietly.

“No. No I didn’t,” Persephone said. “But I know you were speaking from an emotional place.”

Lucas nodded, accepting the thinly veiled condemnation in her voice. They stood facing each other for a few moments before Persephone sighed, turning to go sit back down and beckoning Lucas to join her. When they were both seated once more, Persephone spoke again.

“Look, I… I really don’t know if it’s a good idea to tell you about this, but I wouldn’t feel right keeping it from you. I’m going to pretend that nothing happened just now and move on, because I do believe that you deserve to find your friends again. So, for all intents and purposes, we’re friends now, yeah?”

 Lucas nodded, extremely grateful that she was still willing to talk to him after he had shouted at her.

“Great. Now, there are two things I have to tell you, and I really don’t know what order I should say them in.” She paused, thinking, then continued, seeming to have come to a decision. “Alright, listen up. First of all, I have heard rumors of a very powerful being in the forest near Dramoya. They say she can do almost anything; however, she always asks for payment… and the price may not be something you’re willing to pay.”

Lucas huffed out a laugh. He had sold his soul once, if he could sell it again to bring his friends back… well, it would be worth it. What could be worse than selling your very soul?

“I’m inclined to believe the rumors, so I wouldn’t go down that path unless there was no other choice. The problem is, the other thing I have to say is also not something I would normally recommend. I have- it’s something called the deck of many things. It’s a magical deck of cards, each card having an effect on the real world when it’s drawn. Some of these effects are incredible wonders, and others are… well, not so wondrous. I almost never offer this to people, as the risks in pulling a bad card are often not worth the reward. But frankly, you seem like the type to do much riskier things to get what you want, and I can think of worse that you could do.” Here she hesitated for a second, seeming to consider her next words. “Besides, there’s just a… you seem- sad. And there is a card in the deck that can grant a Wish, I thought maybe, if there’s a chance…”

Persephone kept talking but Lucas didn’t hear the words anymore. There was a ringing in his ears. Could it really be that simple? No, of course not. There had to be a catch somewhere. And judging by the look on Persephone’s face, he had missed the catch.

“Persephone, please, if there’s any chance- any chance at all that I can-“ Lucas’ voice caught in his throat and he took a shuddering breath. “Please, tell me how these cards work. I have to try.”

“Look, if you really want to draw cards, you can. After all, I didn’t bring these up just to toy with you. But you need to understand what you’re getting yourself into. Some of these cards are not pretty, you don’t want to mess with them. There’s a card that will transport you to a magical dungeon in a different dimension, never to be seen again. There’s one that summons Death. You can sprout wings, drop dead, or get a nemesis for life. These are irreversible changes. I don’t want you to rush into this and get hurt in the bargain.”

Lucas flexed and relaxed his hands as his mind raced. On the one hand, what did he have to lose? He had lost his friends, his family were no longer around, and he had pretty much cut off the rest of his ties when he had sat around moping in an inn for a month. The worst that could happen… well, that had already happened. He had hit rock bottom already, there was only up from here.

“I’ll do it.” Lucas’ voice rang out and there was a sudden hush in the forest. As if all the wildlife was holding its breath. Lucas swallowed and continued. “I need to try. I want to draw from the deck.”

Persephone nodded, seeming resigned, and pulled a very plain looking deck of cards from her pocket. She slid the cards out of their box and held them out to Lucas.

“How many?” Lucas took a breath to answer but was cut off by Persephone before he could. “Remember, this number is binding, so whatever you say now is the amount of cards you’ll have to take. There’s no going back after this. If you get a bad card, you can’t stop. If you get the card you wanted, you can’t stop. Not until you pick up all the cards you said you would. Be careful about the number.”

“Four,” Lucas responded, before he could think about it too much. Four cards for the four people he’d lost. One for each friend he was trying to get back…

The deck glowed with a sudden, brilliant, golden light, then settled down to a soft glimmer around the edges. Persephone held out the deck to him with a formal solemnity, with the air of ritual presentation. Lucas reached out hesitantly, touching the back of the first card.

For Daemys , he thought and picked up the card. He turned over the card and saw a beautiful illustration of a river. The focus of the picture was obviously a stone bridge crossing the river. The bridge was old and worn, while the water under was sparkling under a prominent sun featured high in the sky. As he took in the drawing the card began dissolving in his fingers, crumbling away into golden dust. As the last of the card disappeared, he felt as if he could almost… see time? The air at the edges of his vision was shimmering and he felt the seconds tick by him. He felt like he could take a hold of the ticking and just… make it stop. He resisted the temptation, turning to Persephone instead.

“It was a bridge. An illustration of a bridge crossing a river, with the sun shining down.” Lucas looked down at his hands, flexing them, still marveling at the feeling of time slipping through them. It felt like silk.

“Ah, yes, the Bridge,” Persephone said, nodding. “You can cast Time Stop now. Although, you can only cast it so many times, and you’ll lose the ability after the last time, so I wouldn’t waste it if I were you. I’ve never heard of anyone being able to cast it more than three times after drawing that card, so use it wisely.”

Lucas nodded, grateful that he had resisted the impulse to grab time when he had first felt it. What if he was only able to cast it once? He wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers. One card down, three to go. Three more chances to get his Wish… he reached out for the deck again, hand trembling slightly as he picked up the next card in the deck.

For Ellorie , he thought as he turned the card over to see the illustration. It depicted a meadow, bright with sunlight and flowers. Right in the middle was a silver door, mostly closed, but open just a crack. Through the crack came shards of darkness, seeming to rip apart the peace of the meadow. As this card, too, dissolved, Lucas gasped. He had thought that being exposed to the passage of time was overwhelming, now he could feel space as well. It was as if the fabric of the universe was at his fingertips and he could pinch it together if he so wished, bringing places closer together, bridging the extra dimensional rifts to create harmony. The two sensations of space and time overwhelmed Lucas for a few moments and he closed his eyes, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and just breathed for a few moments, trying to give himself some time to adjust. He felt a hysterical laugh bubble up as he realised that he could give himself the time he needed, quite literally. Thankfully, his new senses settled a bit with time, though his skin was still prickling somewhat, and he allowed himself to open his eyes. Persephone was looking at him, concerned.

“Lucas? Are you alright?” she asked, voice tight. It took Lucas a second to focus his eyes on her, and he shook his head, trying to clear his mind. “Lucas, what’s going on? What was on that card?”

Lucas grinned, feeling dizzy. He hadn’t felt this light since… well, for a long time. He rubbed his hands together, still getting accustomed to the new feelings flooding him.

“It was a door. It was in a meadow and darkness was coming through,” he responded finally.

“Ah,” Persephone said, nodding. “That’s… quite a set of cards you chose. That card grants the ability to cast the Gate spell, also for a limited number of times. So far, you’ve had quite some luck.”

“Don’t jinx it!” Lucas laughed. He felt jittery all over. “And besides, I still haven’t gotten the one I need.”

For Falmouth, thought Lucas as he reached out once again. The deck was still glowing softly, and he plucked the top card off, feeling giddy from his successes so far. As he looked at the picture on this card, he felt a pang of nostalgia at how this whole misadventure had started. It was a ship, a flag with the royal standard flying proudly from the mast. The ship seemed to be sailing at full speed, sails filled with wind, the sea calm without a wave in sight. Yet under the ship was a shadow, a lurking danger that no one could see. It darkened the sea under the ship, and Lucas felt an irrational impulse to shout to the people on the ship, to warn them of the shadow. As the card began to crumble, Lucas braced himself for whatever change would come upon him. He felt… nothing? He looked at Persephone and shrugged.

“Ship.”

“Oh, that’s a nice one,” Persephone said, eyebrows raised appreciatively. “The Ship grants you three skills that you might not have had previously. It may take some time before you discover what they are, but whatever they are, I’m sure they’ll come in handy. Now… last card.”

Lucas looked at the deck and licked his lips nervously. His last card, his last chance. He needed this. It had to be. It just had to. He reached forward and rested his fingers lightly on the back of his last card. Please. I just need this to be it. That’s all. It’s not too much to ask, is it? Just one more Wish… for Ashen.

Not wanting to prolong the mystery, instead of picking up the card. He flipped it over so that both he and Persephone saw it at the same time.

Immediately, the sky grew dark and a lightning bolt came down, striking the card from his hand. Lucas gasped and jumped back as a huge clap of thunder shook the trees around them. A scorched patch of grass was the only sign that remained of the card. Lucas hadn’t even had a chance to see the illustration, save for something blood red that had glistened in light.

Heart pounding, Lucas looked at the smoking grass for a few seconds, then turned to Persephone, looking for answers. He stopped short at the horrified look on Persephone’s face. She seemed frozen in place as he took a step toward her.

“What is it? What just happened? What was that card? ” Lucas asked, reaching out to grab Persephone before changing his mind and letting his arm fall back, limp, to his side. Persephone stumbled back, shocked out of her stupor by the sudden motion. She shook her head, still staring at Lucas, still with a look of horror on her face.

“I’m so sorry, Lucas… I didn’t expect this one, I’ve never actually seen it chosen before…” Persephone trailed off and Lucas felt he might implode with impatience. Luckily, Persephone continued before he could do anything foolish. “It’s Ruin, Lucas. You’ve chosen Ruin.”

Chapter Text

The two travelers stood on an isolated bend in the forest path as the ground seemed to fall away from under Lucas’ feet.

Ruin… whatever that means, it can’t be good, Lucas thought, trying desperately to keep himself in control. He should have known that his luck wouldn’t hold out forever. There was a ringing in his ears as Persephone went on to explain the consequences of this card.

“It’s taken everything you own. You have… well, aside from the clothes on your back, you have nothing,” she said, eyes a mix of concern and trepidation. “I don’t know if you own anything magical, but if you do, they’ll stay with you as well. I’m afraid that’s all you have to your name now.”

Lucas looked at Persephone’s now-apologetic face and felt a laugh bubbling up. His world was crashing down around him, and yet somehow… it didn’t seem so bad? He had lived a long time; he had gone through rough financial patches before. What was this but an extreme version of that? He still felt the sensations of the first two cards running through him, comforting him. Two extremely powerful spells and proficiency in skills he hadn’t had previously were not to be shrugged off. Neither was losing all his worldly possessions, to be honest, but the difficulty of that seemed to pale somewhat in relation to the good he had received. He turned and saw Thunderclap grazing nearby, tack and saddle gone, saddlebags seemingly vanished into thin air. Well, he supposed he could ride her bareback, that wouldn’t be too much trouble. Though he’d have to figure out how to get a saddle sooner rather than later. He started towards her, completely forgetting Persephone for the moment. Thunderclap, seeing Lucas walking towards her, whinnied loudly and reared back on her hind legs, warding him off with flashing hooves before galloping away. Lucas felt her leaving like a punch in the gut and he stopped in his tracks, looking after her. She had been the only one who had stayed with him consistently since he had lost his friends. The rest of his possessions, while he would miss them, was nothing like losing Thunderclap. Losing her was losing the closest thing he had to a friend at the moment. He stood there, watching her disappear into the distance, feeling utterly alone. He had nothing- no one to go to, no one to help him, no way to help himself. He had nothing to hold onto anymore.

As he stood there on the path, feeling a gaping hole in his chest, he heard a steady tick, tick, tick . He turned to the sound, looking around. There, lying innocently on the grass where he had left his travel cloak, was the golden compass. While his cloak was now gone, the compass that had been in its pocket was… still there? He went over to pick it up, tracing its delicate etchings with a finger, marveling that it was still here. But how…? Then he remembered what Persephone had said. This was an incredible, powerfully magical, object. He flicked the latch open, letting the top swing open silently. He gazed at the compass for a few seconds, feeling a flicker of hope in his chest once more as he saw the needle pointing steadily towards… well, something. Somewhere. Did this mean he could still achieve his heart’s desire?

Well, it would be harder without a horse, but Thunderclap sure wasn’t the one who was going to give him his friends back.

He turned, and sighed in relief as the needle stayed true to its direction. It had been pointing directly at him, and if it had stayed pointing at him, he might have gone mad with frustration. Instead, he saw it pointed down the path he had been traveling on, straight toward-

“Are you- are you okay?” Persephone asked, a look of deep concern crossing her face. Lucas stared at her, having completely forgotten that she was there. Was the compass pointing at her though, or past her? Lucas moved off the path, a few steps to the side, and checked again. The needle had shifted, indicating that the object- or person, in this case- was, indeed, very close. It could only be Persephone. Lucas snapped the compass shut, tucked it away in a trouser pocket, and walked over to join Persephone once more.

“You said that there was a card that could trap me in an endless void forever. In comparison, this isn’t so bad. I mean…” Lucas shrugged helplessly. He looked up to the sky, sun warm on his face, with no hint of the darkness that had tainted it earlier. A small smile quirked his lips, though it felt wrong in the situation. “It’s not great, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. But I’m here. And that means that I can still fight.”

Persephone was looking at Lucas with a strange look in her eye. Try as he might, he couldn’t decipher it. She reached out to him, then let her arm fall in some aborted motion. Finally, she spoke again.

“I… Lucas, I’m really sorry. I feel like I’m somewhat responsible for your financial loss.” Lucas opened his mouth to refute the statement, but Persephone plowed ahead before he could get a word in edgewise. “I know you chose to draw cards, despite the risk, but still... if I hadn’t offered, you wouldn’t be in this position. You didn’t even get what you wanted from it.”

Persephone looked away, guilt etched in every line of her face. He couldn’t help but try to comfort her, after all, she had done her best to help him.

“Persephone, you can’t hold yourself responsible for other people’s actions. If you did, the world would be a much heavier place to live. I chose to pull those cards. You were very clear about the dangers involved, and I chose to go on, regardless. Just because I ended up worse for it… that doesn’t mean I regret it.” He hesitated for a moment, before continuing softly. “I can’t regret anything I do that has a chance of getting them back.”

He smiled at Persephone, meaning every word he said. He didn’t regret taking the chance, but he sure as hell would have regretted not doing it. He would have wondered every day if he had made a mistake. They stood for a moment, Persephone clearly struggling with something. She seemed to want to believe him, but was having a hard time forgiving herself for her part in the situation. Still seeming troubled, she spoke again.

“I appreciate that you don’t blame me, and I… understand what you’re saying in theory. In practice, I’m afraid that I’ll carry this guilt for a while. Nevertheless, you’ve made quite the impression on me. I’ve never seen anyone deal with something so large with such- grace, for lack of a better word.” She stopped, considering her next words, before saying, “I would like to offer you something, if you’ll accept.”

Lucas began to protest, but Persephone stopped him with a raised hand.

“It’s not a lot for me to do, and there’s a chance it might provide you with some comfort. At the very least, if you learn to use it, it can give you a way to earn a night’s stay at many an inn, should you need,” Persephone said with a knowing grin. She walked over to where her belongings lay on the side of the path. She picked up the half harp she had been playing when Lucas met her and put it carefully and lovingly in its case. Once she made sure the fasteners were secure, she held it out to Lucas, handling it as if it were made of glass. Lucas held his hands up, warding her off.

“No, Persephone, really this is too much. I can’t take your instrument, it’s clearly precious to you,” he said, taking a step back. Persephone held it out more insistently, closing the gap between them.

“It’s only precious to me because I used to sing with my sisters,” she said, shrugging. “On its own, I don’t really love singing, to be honest, or music. I’m more interested in the art of healing. I think she would be happier traveling with you.”

Persephone put the harp in Lucas’ arms, and Lucas felt that he had no choice but to accept the gift. She looked at the instrument tenderly for a moment, fingers lingering on the black casing, before stepping away fully, leaving the half-harp fully in his care. Lucas ignored the familiar tick-tick-tick that he suddenly felt, instead focusing on the woman in front of him.

“Thank you, Persephone. This is incredibly kind of you. Thank you for both the instrument, and for the chance you’ve given me to fix the wrongs in my life. Though nothing’s changed on that front, it was… good- to have that chance.”

Persephone stepped forward and hugged Lucas. It was so sudden, and so unexpected, that Lucas froze for a second before returning the hug. He felt something crack within him, tears spilling down his cheeks as he melted into the hug. He couldn’t remember the last time he had properly hugged someone. He clung on, scared for the moment it would end, scared for when he’d be left cold and alone once more.

Eventually, however, the moment was over, and Persephone pulled back. She gave him a moment to compose himself, leaving him some space before speaking again.

“Listen,” she said, looking somewhat unsure of herself, “I know you’re definitely going to travel now to Dramoya, to seek your luck there, and I won’t try to stop you, or even try to convince you not to… just be careful, yeah? The deck of many things has many risks, but they’re dangers that affect you. What this creature might ask of you- well. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt or lose yourself in the bargain. You’re a good guy, Lucas, and I hope you don’t forget that in your search.”

Lucas nodded, thankful for her sentiment. He had never heard of this being before meeting Persephone, but if they were as bad as she seemed to imply…

He shuddered, thanking her quietly for her help as she packed up her bags and gathered up her gear. She swung up onto her horse, looking down at Lucas.

“I hope you find the help you need from them, I really do. May your voice stay strong though the storm and may the sun light your way ahead.”

With that, Persephone dipped her hat to Lucas and flicked the reins, clip-clopping her way down the path. Lucas watched her trot off, now bereft of nearly everyone and everything. He looked back at the direction Thunderclap had gone, debating whether he should at least try to get her back…

He sighed, turning forward with the needle of the compass, setting off after Persephone on the path.

Chapter Text

Lucas sat in a small clearing, chin in his hands, looking forlornly as the small half harp laying in the grass before him. He had been trying to play for half an hour now and he just couldn’t seem to get it to sound right. He sighed, picked up the instrument, and set to it once more. He knew it would take time and practice; he had only been at it for a couple weeks now. Now that he was traveling alone, he found himself filling his evenings with music- if you could call it that. The harp was his only companion now, and he found that conversation with it lessened some of his loneliness. It, the clothes on his back, the compass… they were the only things he had left.

He had been traveling alone for three weeks, meeting strangers on the road but rarely long enough to learn their names. He knew he was nearing his destination, but he had yet to find someone who was willing to tell him where this mysterious “being” was, or anything about them for that matter. He had stopped in a small town a couple days back, offering to do menial chores for the innkeeper in exchange for dinner and a warm place to sleep, but he hadn’t had much luck with the locals. The most he had gotten out of them were whispers of a beast living in the forest nearby, accompanied by warding gestures and suspicious looks.

Lucas felt his stomach growl but he ignored it, knowing that he couldn’t do anything about it at the moment. He had finished the food he had gotten from the inn yesterday and had been surviving on whatever he could manage to forage from the forest since. He had found a few berry bushes and some edible roots, so he had at least a day before his hunger became problematic. Picking up the harp once more, he began plucking out notes. He shivered, the cold that had slowly crept in in the nights over the last week seeping into his bones. It was getting closer to winter and Lucas had lost everything- including his cloak, his tent and bedroll, his flint and steel… which meant no warmth and no fire. He hunched his shoulders and let his fingers dance over the strings. Well, it wasn’t quite so graceful as that. His fingers seemed to have grown two left feet, which was made all the more concerning by the fact that they were fingers and shouldn’t have had any feet to begin with.

As the notes rose from his stiff fingers, he noticed a strange… fizzing? coming from the strings. Puzzled, Lucas stopped and examined the harp. It looked completely ordinary. Experimentally, he played another note. A spark flew from the string, and the small flash of heat it gave off nearly made him drop the harp in surprise. Then, excited, he jumped up and found a small, dry branch. He sat down, placing the branch carefully in front of him, and began playing once more. As he practiced the notes, the fizzing started up again until a small spark flashed up from the harp and landed directly on the branch. Lucas looked down at the smoldering branch in disbelief. He whooped, then leaped to his feet to gather some firewood and kindling.

Lucas spent the next little while alternately playing the harp and building a small campfire until there was a cheery little blaze lighting up his campsite. As he warmed his hands over the fire, he marveled at the magic. He hadn’t been able to perform magic since the contract had been terminated. As he had that thought, he froze, thoughts racing, then calmed down when he didn’t feel the familiar shadow over his soul. Honestly, he doubted that the contract could have been reestablished without his knowledge. He picked up his harp again and strummed a chord, the motions coming easier now that his hands weren’t numb from the cold. The sparks showered out with the notes, the magic flowing out of him. He smiled, then carefully stowed the instrument back in its case. Lucas lay down near the warmth of the fire and drifted off to sleep, resolving to solve this little mystery the next day.

The next morning found Lucas tramping through the forest, yet again. He had left the path sometime yesterday, trusting the compass to lead him wherever he had to go. He checked it now, verifying that he was on the right track, and tucked it back into his pocket. He slipped through the trees like a shadow, moving in the forest as if he’d been born there. Leaves barely rustled under his tread and he left virtually no sign of his passing. Focused as he was on his path, he nearly stumbled as the tree line stopped abruptly and opened on a little lake surrounded by flowers. Most surprisingly, there was a little cottage set next to the lake. As Lucas took in the peaceful scene before him, a tall figure exited the cottage and made its way to the flowers, kneeling down to tend to them. Heart rising to his throat, Lucas felt himself take a step forward, drawn inexorably to the kneeling figure. That seemed to grab their attention, as they looked up, surprised. Catching sight of Lucas at the edge of the clearing, Falmouth stood up and started walking toward him. Lucas gasped, tears filling his eyes. It was him. He hadn’t seen him in what felt like years. Lucas met his friend halfway, stopping himself just short of giving the genasi a hug. Instead, he offered his hand in an awkward handshake, which Falmouth returned with enthusiasm.

“Hello! You look familiar. Do I know you?”

The lump in his throat, which had faded a bit, returned full force at those words. Lucas cleared his throat a few times before he could speak, unable to take his eyes off Falmouth.

“Er, yeah, we met at the palace a little while ago,” Lucas answered. Falmouth’s eyes, deep in his hood, brightened. Suddenly, Lucas found himself with a mouthful of dark red fabric, wrapped up in tentacles.

“Lucas!” Falmouth’s voice was garbled as always, but his enthusiasm was no less for it. If anything, it seemed to enhance his excitement. Lucas let out a wet chuckle and returned the hug, burying his face in Falmouth’s… well, chest, seeing as that’s where his head came up to. He let himself pretend, just for a moment, that this was his old friend. Basking in the warmth of the hug, he stretched out the moment for as long as he could. Finally, however, the two of them stepped apart. Lucas clapped Falmouth on the back.

“It’s good to see you, my friend. I must say, you’re looking quite well!”

“I am well! And you look good, too, Lucas. I am glad to see you.” Falmouth began leading the way to the small cottage, insisting Lucas come by for tea and biscuits. Lucas put up a token resistance but surrendered to Falmouth’s care quite quickly. He hadn’t met many people on the road, and most that he had met had been downright nasty. One Lord Lafayette had made a snide remark on his ‘loud, peasant garb’ to his wife as they were passing each other, and two larger boys had tried robbing him early on. They had left him alone as soon as they realized that he had nothing worth taking. How they hadn’t found the compass, Lucas didn’t know, but he was thankful for it nonetheless. Now, having an opportunity to spend some time with a friendly face… Well, though he wasn’t eager to delay his journey, he wasn’t going to protest too much. Too many people took advantage of the fact that they had people in their lives that cared to hear about their day, about what was going on in their lives. Lucas… missed that. More than he could put into words. So, he followed Falmouth into the cozy, warm cabin in the woods.

As Falmouth put a kettle on to boil, Lucas took a look around the room. It was a comfortable little house, all decorated in greens and blues. In a way, it reminded Lucas of the bottom of the ocean. Which, he supposed, was fair- considering to whom the house belonged.

“So,” Falmouth said once they were both sitting at the table with cups of tea warming their hands. And tentacles. “What brings you here to my little home?”

“Well…” Lucas started, sipping at his tea to buy himself time as he considered how much to tell Falmouth. “Do you remember that day at the palace, when the king gave us all gifts?”

“Oh, yes!” Falmouth nodded enthusiastically, tea spilling from his cup at his over-exaggerated motions. “I remember, I got that staff!”

Lucas looked over to where Falmouth was gesturing to see a wooden staff decorated with carvings of woodland animals running up its sides, an unobtrusive green gem at the top. As Lucas admired the staff, Falmouth continued.

“I have so many friends now! I can talk to the birds in the trees and the fish in the pond. They don’t have much to say to me, but they can now if they want to.” Falmouth perked up a bit. “Oh! And there was a gerbil that passed through here a while ago. He was very interesting to talk to. He said his name was Andrew and he taught me some songs that he knew!”

Here Falmouth leaned in conspiratorially and Lucas leaned closer by instinct.

“He said he had been part of a big war. He wouldn’t say much about it, but he said he fought in it.”

Lucas sat back in his chair, his heart breaking for his friend. While he was sure that this Andrew was a wonderful gerbil, it couldn’t be easy having only the forest animals to talk to. Falmouth began humming a jaunty tune as he finished off the rest of his tea. They continued chatting of trivial things as they had a small afternoon snack, Falmouth telling him of finding this cottage and his as-of-yet unsuccessful attempts at winning over the local townsfolk and Lucas filling Falmouth in on his journey to the temple.

“And you say that this compass led you there?” Falmouth asked, inspecting the bright golden device Lucas had brought out. Lucas merely nodded in response. After receiving consent from Lucas, Falmouth picked up the compass gently and flipped the lid open. The needle spun slowly, almost sluggishly. It changed direction at random, not settling anywhere for long. Falmouth reached out and handed the compass back to Lucas. Almost immediately, the needle seemed to stabilize, spinning to point west of the little cottage. They passed it back and forth a couple of times, trying to see if there was anything else they could discern about the small compass, but all they managed to determine was that it would only respond properly when Lucas was holding it.

“Well, my friend, it looks like it wants to lead you on. Do you know where it’s trying to take you?”

Lucas shook his head, closing the compass with a soft snap and slipping it back into his pocket.

“I don’t, but a traveler on the road pointed me in this direction, saying that a powerful being lived somewhere in these woods. I wouldn’t be surprised if that was the destination the compass had in mind, seeing as it’s led me all this way.”

At the mention of the being, Falmouth’s tentacles began twitching agitatedly.

“Do you mean the forest witch?” he asked, eyes going dark within his hood. His voice had deepened, anger clear in its tone. Lucas swallowed, unused to seeing such aggression in his usually gentle friend. “Margaery is not one to be trifled with. I wouldn’t send you to see her unless things were very bad.”

“Why’s that?” Lucas asked, curious. He had never heard of this mysterious Margaery before. How bad could she be?

“She does magic, very powerful magic. But-“ here Falmouth raised a tentacle, as if to emphasize his point. “It always comes with a fee. You might not like what you have to pay in order to get her help.”

Lucas laughed. He couldn’t help it. He had made deals with demons before. He knew what arrangements like that asked for. If it came to it, and she wanted his soul… Well, so be it. He had done it before, and he would do it again if it meant getting his friends back. It killed him to see Falmouth like this, lonely and friendless, his only company the woodland creatures who visited him. Falmouth didn’t seem to like Lucas’ response if his stormy expression was anything to go by. Lucas hurried to reply before Falmouth could draw the wrong conclusions.

“It’s not that I don’t take your warnings lightly, Falmouth,” Lucas said, leaning forward. “I do understand. It’s just that… I’ve had experiences with beings like her in the past. She can’t be as bad as some that I’ve met.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Falmouth grumbled, but he subsided and allowed the matter to drop. “Do you know what your request of her is? It’s important to ask carefully, she’s known to misinterpret bequests if it suits her.”

“No,” Lucas lied. He avoided his friend’s eyes, knowing that the trusting look in them might just break him. “I’m hoping the compass will help me out somehow when I get there. I still don’t know exactly what I’m looking for.”

“Oh,” Falmouth said, nodding sympathetically. “That must be hard. I think it’s always good to know what you want. It’s always harder to find what you’re looking for when you don’t know what it is.”

Lucas felt sick. He forced the feeling away, telling himself that it was necessary for now, he couldn’t possibly tell Falmouth the truth without looking like a madman.

“I… I know I’m looking for friends of mine. Friends I used to have.” The words slipped out of Lucas’ mouth of their own accord. His gaze was fixed over Falmouth’s shoulder, on a vase of flowers on a shelf. He kept talking, not knowing how to stop the flow of words from his lips. “They- I lost them. They were like family to me, the only family I really had. Now… I don’t know how to get them back. I don’t know if I can get them back. I don’t even know if they want me back. It just- it hurts so much, knowing that they might be out there, living their lives without me. Not knowing how much I miss them, not knowing how much I need them here with me.”

Lucas swallowed thickly, blinking back the tears in his eyes. The vase was a pretty blue colour and there were sunflowers in it. The flowers were comically big for the vase, but it was just so classically Falmouth. Lucas found himself speaking again, voice rough with emotion.

“One of my friends- he was just so gentle and sweet. People were a bit frightened of him because he was quite large and imposing. But once you got to know him… he was just a big sweetheart. He cared so much about everyone around him and always wanted to help. He loved animals and children; he was almost like a dad to this one little girl we used to know. He just- he had the biggest heart of anyone I ever knew. I… I can imagine he might be struggling now, in an unfamiliar world. I wish…”

Lucas’ voice broke and he found himself wrapped up in a hug for the second time that day. He clung on to Falmouth, tears soaking into the cloth of his cloak. His voice came out muffled as he said the next seven words.

“I just want to see him again.”

Chapter Text

Lucas woke slowly to the soft sound of chirping birdsong. Sunlight filtered through the treetops, making dancing shadows play across his closed eyelids. He stretched, feeling the ground under him shift - wait. His eyes snapped open. There were no treetops above him, just a wooden ceiling. The ridiculously soft ground under him was, in fact, a comfortable bed. A lace curtain fluttered over the window in a breeze, causing shadows to swirl around the cottage. Lucas felt his tense muscles relax as he remembered last night, and how he had ended up here. Falmouth had insisted that he stay over for the night, saying that the way to the witch was perilous at night. So, he might as well stay. Nothing to be done until tomorrow, anyway. He had also claimed that he slept in the lake most nights, so it wouldn’t be a problem for Lucas to take the bed.

Lucas had given in with embarrassingly little resistance. He was tired of being on the road all the time, never comfortable, never safe. And ever since he had lost his possessions, his campsites had been even more austere than normal. He had welcomed this chance to be out of the wilderness and in a warm bed.

Pushing aside the bedcovers, Lucas stood up and stretched. After going out to the lake to wash up, he went back to the cabin to put on a kettle. He hadn’t seen Falmouth out there, but wherever he was, Lucas was sure he’d be back soon. After all, he had told Lucas that he’d accompany him today, and Lucas knew that Falmouth would want to get to the witch while the light was still out.

Leaning against the counter, Lucas sipped his tea slowly. As he contemplated the calm beauty of the morning, birdsong and rustling leaves filtering through the curtains, his thoughts turned to the request he would make of the witch. He had already mucked it up once with the dragon tooth, he was determined to get it right this time. As he puzzled over potential wordings, rejecting options when he saw loopholes in the wording, Falmouth tromped in, leaving muddy marks on the floor. Lucas offered him a mug of tea wordlessly, and though it was somewhat lukewarm at this point, Falmouth accepted it and downed the drink in one go. Lucas chuckled, pouring him some more from the kettle.

“So, are you still set on going to see Margaery?”

Lucas looked at Falmouth in surprise. He hadn’t thought that this was still a question- he had been pretty clear the last time they spoke.

“I’m afraid I am, yes. Though, you really don’t have to come with me if you’ve changed your mind. I’m happy to continue on alone, if need be.” Lucas took another sip of tea, which now tasted like ashes in his mouth. “God knows, I’m used to it.”

“Don’t be silly. If you insist on going, I’ll insist on coming with you. I know Margaery, and I don’t want you going in there alone,” Falmouth said, face as dark as it had been the night before when talking about the forest witch. Feeling a warm glow in his chest, Lucas couldn’t stop himself from wondering what dealings Falmouth had had with the witch that made the normally amiable and friendly genasi so unsettled. “She might try to sell you some letters. Don’t be fooled, you can still use those letters for free. You don’t need to buy them from her.”

That stopped Lucas short.

“…What?” he asked, utterly confused. “Letters? That she wrote? Or of the alphabet? What do you mean, letters?”

“Letters of the alphabet,” Falmouth said, still looking upset. “She tried to sell them to me a few times, but I was never tricked.”

“I see,” said Lucas slowly, not seeing. He felt no clearer on what was going on, however, he decided to just let the matter drop for now, instead turning to pick up his harp in its case. “Is there anything you need to get before we leave? I’d like to set out as early as possible.”

“I packed up last night when you were sleeping.” Falmouth gestured at a packed bag sitting next to the door. “Is that all you’re bringing?”

Falmouth was looking at the harp on Lucas’ back incredulously.

“Yes,” Lucas said, rinsing his cup and putting it back in its place before moving to the door. He was already wearing his one outfit, his compass was in its usual pocket, and the only other thing he owned at the moment was his half-harp.

Falmouth huffed, grumbling about ‘pretentious tiny elves and their pretentious tiny appetites’ as he puttered about the room, packing another small bag that he pulled out from under the bed. Lucas just watched from the doorway, bemused, as Falmouth put a few days’ worth of travel food, as well as a few other useful items in the bag, finishing up with tying a waterskin to the bundle he had made. Suddenly, it clicked. Lucas felt himself tear up as understanding hit him. Here was Falmouth, being just so effortlessly and needlessly kind, and to someone who was practically a stranger. They had met, what, two- three- times? And here he was, packing a bag full of his own things for Lucas. What broke Lucas was the cloak that Falmouth took down from a hook and swung over his shoulders, settling over and around him as gently as a soft breeze. Lucas was nearly lost in the folds of the cloth, but the care that Falmouth was showing him- Lucas had to turn away for a moment, composing himself, wiping his eyes surreptitiously on a corner of the cloth. It was a deep green colour, slightly faded by use, and Lucas found that he loved the cloak all the more for it.

Finally, Falmouth seemed satisfied with his work and hoisted both bags up on his shoulders. After an ineffective argument, which somehow ended with Falmouth holding both bags and his harp, Lucas gave in. He would have kept arguing, but he was afraid that if he did, Falmouth would end up carrying him all the way to the witch.

They left the cottage together, chatting quietly in the late morning sunlight, though they quickly fell into a comfortable silence as they walked. While Lucas was enjoying the company after quite some time alone, he knew that Falmouth wasn’t the most talkative of companions. For that matter, neither was he. He was just happy to have someone to walk with for a while.

By mutual agreement, they stopped sometime after midday for lunch. Lucas was profoundly grateful for the food that Falmouth had been kind enough to supply him with. It would have been infinitely more uncomfortable if Lucas had had to either go and find food as Falmouth ate or just watched him in silence. As they ate together, Falmouth brought up the dreaded topic.

“So, Lucas, do you know what favour you’ll ask of Margaery?”

Lucas chewed the dried fish he was eating slowly. He had been turning different options over in his mind throughout their whole trek that morning, and he still didn’t have a set wording for his request. He knew he had to be specific, but he also had to keep it short. No loopholes, no getting out of it.

“I’m still not sure, to be honest.” He shrugged helplessly. “I thought of a thousand different ways to ask her, but I’m afraid she’ll manage to find some way to twist my words with each one.”

Falmouth nodded sympathetically, giving room for Lucas to continue if he wished, but not pressuring him. Silence fell again for a few moments as Lucas thought. Finally, he shook his head.

“I’ll have to keep thinking about it on the way. I just need some more time. It’s not easy to put your heart’s desire into words, you know.”

Falmouth nodded and brushed the crumbs off his lap. Then he picked up the case with the half harp and handed it to Lucas, looking at him expectantly. Lucas waved him away, laughing.

“No, Falmouth, you really don’t want to hear me play, I promise. I’m awful.”

“Please?” Falmouth asked, eyes wide. If a six foot five genasi could have a puppy face, this was it. Lucas shook his head, still chuckling. “I’d really like to hear you play. I don’t care how it sounds. The only music I’ve heard lately has been from Andrew.”

Well. Lucas couldn’t refuse the request when it was put like that. So, he took the instrument from Falmouth’s insistent pushing and slowly removed it from the case. The truth was, he had forgotten to practice yesterday, and the journey would likely take most of the day. He really didn’t want to go another day without practice, especially after the fire of the night before last. And who could say what would happen after his meeting with the witch?

He took the half-harp out, settling it in place on his lap. He began plucking at the strings, just practicing the motions, trying to make them as smooth as possible. Eventually, when he felt sufficiently warmed up, he tried playing the tune Falmouth had been humming the night before, an old song he knew from childhood. He kept messing it up- dropping notes, playing the wrong ones completely, and he could tell that the timing was terribly off. Falmouth didn’t seem to care and clapped enthusiastically when the song came to a stumbling and stuttering end. Lucas grimaced and adjusted the cloak, the massive garment impeding his movement significantly. He shifted it again and struck another chord, cursing softly when the cloak fell back down over his arm again. He pushed it back and began to attempt the song again. As he played the notes, trying to commit the right ones to memory, he felt the cloak begin to move. On its own. He stopped playing, looking at the cloak closely, fearful that he may have accidentally set it on fire. Seeing nothing- and smelling nothing- he shrugged and continued playing. He hadn’t seen the sparks of before, anyway. As the notes rose from the harp, the cloak immediately began shifting again. Curious, he kept at the simple tune, watching the cloak… squirm? It was- it was shrinking. It was getting smaller and smaller on him, the massive folds shrinking until they fit his slight frame. As the cloak finished adjusting to him, he came to the end of the song once more.

Falmouth was staring at him, eyes wide.

“That was magic! You just did magic!” he whispered. Well, he seemed to be trying to whisper, anyway. “You didn’t tell me that you can do magic!”

Lucas shrugged, awed himself at this revelation. He had been scared that the fire was a one-time fluke, but this? This was a proper spell. He ran his finger down the strings in a chord, concentrating on the thought of the fire he had conjured before. Sparks flew from his fingers, and he laughed, feeling as if he were dancing on clouds. He put the harp back in its case, stroking it fondly before closing the lid securely. There was really only one reasonable explanation for this, seeing as he was definitely a thousand percent certain that he hadn’t somehow accidentally re-sold his soul. He was becoming a bard. In that case, he’d have to make sure to practice his music whenever and wherever he could.

Finished with their short rest, Lucas and Falmouth stood up and shouldered their packs. Well, Lucas had his harp now- Falmouth still had both packs. They left the clearing and continued on their way, leaving no trace of having stopped there at all.

Lucas checked the compass again. Falmouth had said that they were getting close, and the compass seemed to confirm that. Whereas until now it had barely changed, pointing in one general direction, it now seemed to respond to every motion, every minute change. They plodded on through the undergrowth, ducking under low hanging branches and trying not to trip on the gnarled roots at their feet. Suddenly, Lucas pulled up short, smelling something foul on the air. He checked his compass again and groaned. Yup. It was definitely coming from that direction.

Falmouth, seeming undisturbed, kept walking.

“She smokes a pipe,” he said, as if that explained the horrible stench.

They soon came upon a small cottage, nestled in a copse of trees. In front of the cottage stood a large black cauldron, a woman of indecipherable age squatting next to it.

“Yeeeeees?” she said, dragging the word out. “Don’t hover in the trees, children. Come out where I can see you.”

Lucas and Falmouth looked at each other, shrugged, then stepped further forward. There was no clearing in the trees to step out into, the tree line grew right up to the cottage. Some trees seemed to have been shoved out of the way of the cottage, still growing, but at awkward angles. This patch of the forest seemed older than the rest somehow, twisted out of shape, bent and wrong. It seemed darker here as well. Lucas shuddered, feeling stifled by the oppressive atmosphere.

“Something wrong, boy?” the old woman’s voice creaked and cracked, as if it was the voice of the tortured trees.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” Lucas replied, licking his lips nervously. He took another step forward, to prove to himself more than anyone else that he wasn’t afraid. A cloud of smoke clung to the old woman, reluctant to leave. The smell was more pronounced here, and Lucas had to work not to gag. He took heart from the fact that Falmouth was still there with him and hadn’t yet run screaming into the trees. Heavens knew that’s what he wanted to do.

Margaery was looking at him, a quizzical look in her eye. She raised her wooden spoon to her lips and took a sip of whatever concoction she was making, still watching Lucas. Lucas cleared his throat and began speaking.

“Hello, ma’am. I am Lucas Flamingo,” he said, leaving out her name. He had no idea how one was supposed to refer to a witch of her standing- he just hoped he hadn’t messed up already. “I’ve been sent your way by people attempting to help me find my heart’s desire. I’ve been told that you have powerful magics at hand that you’re willing to sell for the right price.”

Margaery nodded, adding a pinch of white powder to the pot.

“You would be correct. I sell many things. Potions beyond your imagination. I’ve brewed poisons to kill angels, potions that have made gods go mad…as well as more mundane ones- meth, unrelenting aubergine growth, MDMA-“

She was cut off as Falmouth started flailing.

“See? I told you that she tried to sell me letters! Don’t buy them, I can still use those letters for free.”

Lucas laughed, feeling his body unclench somewhat. He could always count on Falmouth to cut the tension. Margaery was just sitting there, looking like she couldn’t figure out whether to laugh or be offended. She settled on ignoring Falmouth and focusing on Lucas.

“It’s- it’s a drug, Falmouth,” Lucas explained, not wanting his friend to be left in the dark. “A lot of people take it to have fun. I wouldn’t recommend it, though- it can be dangerous.”

“Oh.” Falmouth seemed to be thinking hard. “I don’t think we have that in the ocean.”

Lucas shrugged, turning back to the witch. He had no idea what the drug scene was like underwater.

“Thank you, ma’am, but I’m coming for a spell, not a potion,” he said politely. Always paid to be polite to witches.

“Ahhh, a spell you want, is it? Well, that’ll cost you more, I don’t do those lightly.” She leaned closer to Lucas, lowering her voice. “Do you happen to have an iPhone?”

Lucas furrowed his brow, completely befuddled.

“An eye phone? What the hell is an eye phone?” he asked, trying to puzzle it out. Eye… phonetics? What would that even mean?

“Ah, never mind. Can never find someone with good technology on this plane,” she muttered, seemingly to herself. “Anyway, what kind of spell are you looking for? I have healing spells, protection charms… or perhaps you’re looking for some fighting magic?”

As she spoke, she set her cauldron aside with a wave of her hand and rolled up her sleeves. A book appeared before her and floated in the air, the pages flipping as if turned by an unseen wind.

“I’m afraid I’m looking for something a bit more powerful than that,” he said, glancing at Falmouth for support. Falmouth nodded, coming to stand next to him, as if they were a united front before the witch. Lucas felt… touched. Falmouth didn’t even know exactly why they were here, he didn’t like this witch, Margaery, at all, and yet he didn’t hesitate to stand by his side. How had he gone all this time without him? He took a deep breath, calmed by the large, sturdy presence by his side, and spoke.

“I want a Wish.”

There was silence in the forest, then-

“Ooooh, a Wish is what you want, is it? That’s old, powerful magic, you know. That’ll cost you a pretty penny, that will.”

Lucas’ heart quickened as a gleam entered Margaery’s eye. He swallowed, conflicted, as a battle raged in him. His heart was screaming at him to do it, just do it, you idiot! Promise her whatever she wants! She can make your dream come true, who cares what the price is? But could he promise her anything ?

A tentacle came to rest softly on his shoulder, and he reached up, holding onto it for strength. No. He had to ask.

“And what would the cost be for such a spell?” Lucas forced the words out of his mouth, voice rough with the effort of keeping it level. Margaery leered at him.

“Well, for a spell like that… It’s a risky one. I am practiced, but that spell can go very wrong.” Lucas snorted quietly at her words. It sure could go wrong, couldn’t it? “For a spell like that, no material price will suffice. You’d owe me a favour. And it would be no small favour at that.” 

Lucas relaxed slightly, hand slipping from Falmouth’s tentacle. Falmouth moved back, letting Lucas stand strong on his own. She wanted a favour. Well, he could do that. A favour was good for him, actually, considering his current financial situation. This was honestly the best he could have hoped for, in his position.

“And what favour is it you would ask of me, Witch?”

Margaery’s hunched form straightened a frightening amount, giving her a presence even more daunting than she had had until that moment.

“Kill the monarchs of Litorum, King Lusensa and his wife, the queen.”

Chapter Text

Time stopped around Lucas. Wind was rushing in his ears, though the air around him was deadly still.

Ellorie… those are Ellorie’s mum and dad. King and Queen Lusensa… through the haze, he noticed that Margaery wasn’t moving. Neither was Falmouth. Then he noticed the sensation in his clenched hands- silken time bunched up in his fists. Oh. So time had actually frozen, then. Lucas had nearly forgotten about the gifts granted to him by the Deck of Many Things, having focused almost solely on the after-effects of Ruin, which had been the most dramatic and disastrous of the lot.

This spell came as a blessing in this moment, as his thoughts whirled like a hurricane in his mind. Keeping time clenched tight in his hands, he walked a short distance away, removing himself physically from the situation. He didn’t know how long the spell would last, and he wanted a chance to think without Margaery’s knowing gaze focused on him. He hadn’t meant to cast this spell, and he definitely wasn’t going to cast it again, but he sure as hell was going to take advantage of it while it lasted. What was done was done, and he wasn’t going to let an opportunity to think go by.

Speaking of… on the one hand, he needed this. He needed his friends. He had been waiting for so long and he had finally found someone who could help, someone who could cast the spell he so desperately needed.

On the other hand, well. The other hand was assassination. Not just assassination, no, not even just a regicide, which were both quite bad. It would be the murder of a young girl’s parents, a girl that he once thought of as… well, almost as a daughter, of sorts. A girl who had won her way into the hearts of four crusty old men and made them all the better for having known her. A girl who had changed him, who he would have died for, who he had once called ‘sweetheart’… to kill her parents ? Impossible.

The breeze filtered through the trees, bringing the sound of groaning branches once more. He shivered at the noise, then processed what the noise meant. He turned around, seeing Margaery looking at him with narrowed eyes and Falmouth with eyes wide.

“How did you get over there?” Falmouth asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “I didn’t see you move.”

“You have power beyond what you pretend, boy,” Margaery said, completely ignoring Falmouth. The way she dismissed him raised Lucas’ hackles, so he walked over to stand with him once more. “Unfortunately, traveling the path you’re on now, you’ll never get what you so clearly wish for.”

She cackled at the double meaning. Falmouth spoke up from his place next to Lucas, focusing only on him.

“Lucas, this is very important. I can’t stop you from doing anything you want to do, but I hope that you choose not to do this. I can’t tell you how much I understand how you feel right now. But right is right and wrong is wrong.”

Lucas looked up into his friend’s eyes. How could Falmouth- gentle, sweet, kind-hearted Falmouth- understand the situation Lucas was in? The moment was interrupted by an impatient clearing of a throat.

“As lovely as this heart to heart is, you shouldn’t keep a witch waiting. We have lots to do you know. Important appointments to keep. So if you want that Wish… well, I’ll need you to promise to fulfill the task I’ve set before you.”

Lucas turned to the witch, irritation plain in his posture. Couldn’t she leave him just a minute to think? She was asking him to murder , for heaven’s sake. That was an insane favour to ask for in return for a Wish. Lucas opened his mouth to snap at her to just give him a moment, just let him think. Then, as she waved impatiently at him to come closer, her cloak shifted, and he caught sight of the symbol stitched on the breast.

It was a rising sun, it’s rays spreading out from the center.

Oh no… Lucas stumbled back, tripping into Falmouth who steadied him. She couldn’t be a part of that, could she? Was she the one leading it? Margaery, still watching, caught him staring at her clothes. She looked down, then brushed at her cloak, somehow managing to subtly cover the symbol with a fold of the cloth in the process. It was too late, though. Lucas had already seen it.

Heart pounding, Lucas straightened from the half crouch that he had fallen into and slowly stepped toward Margaery. He bowed, quick and elegant, tucking his cloak neatly behind his back as he did so. He hoped the gesture would be enough to discourage her from thinking too much into his behaviour. His palms were sweaty from nerves, as he was facing a creature more powerful than he had ever met before. At least, the most powerful being he had met of whom he was about to turn down an offer. Margaery spoke before he had a chance to address her.

“You know you want to, boy. I could give you everything you want. Everything you dream about. You’re heart’s deepest desire.”

“Don’t call me boy,” he snarled. “My name is Lucas. And don’t presume to know what I do and don’t want to do. My heart and my mind are my own. I’m older than you think and I’ve been through more than you can imagine. I have made two mistakes in my life that I have lived to truly regret, and I will not make a third. Not here, not now, and not with you. I’ll be leaving now, and I shan’t be back. Good day.”

He nodded to the witch, but felt himself trembling like a leaf on the edge of falling from the branch, shaken by winds in every direction. He kept standing tall, however, knowing that that was the only thing he could control in the situation.

“You’ve got fire in you, Lucas,” Margaery said, a new respect in her voice that hadn’t been there before. Lucas breathed a silent sigh of relief that she couldn’t see his internal turmoil. Then her face and voice hardened. “But know that I am your last chance. Bards can’t learn the Wish spell. You’ll never be able to cast Wish with that thing.”

She gestured to the instrument case on his back. Lucas shifted uncomfortably, hiking the case up on his back. How had she known he was a bard? He certainly hadn’t told her. For a shameful moment, he considered bargaining with her, trying to talk her down from her unreasonable demands. Maybe he could get her to agree to a more reasonable payment?

Falmouth loomed behind him. No . He would not bargain with someone from the Dawn Chorus. He would not deal with murderers, or those who hired others to murder for them. Even if this was his last chance to get his heart’s desire…

Suddenly struck with a thought, Lucas felt at the pocket where the compass lay. It was strangely silent. He had forgotten about it completely during this encounter with the witch. He didn’t feel the ticking heartbeat and the wrongness of that struck him. That silence, more than anything else, convinced him that this wasn’t the way. This was not right. He wouldn’t give up, but he also would not compromise his morals to get what he wanted.

With that realization, something broken in him began to heal. He knew that no matter what happened next, he would never lose himself. He would live with pain and heartbreak a thousand times over before hurting those he loved. He clutched at the compass slick with his sweat, and he felt it respond to his determination. A faint flicker of a heartbeat passed through it and he felt his own heart fill to the brim. He faced the old witch behind her cauldron and, for the first time since he started this journey, he turned away from the one thing he wanted above all else. The one thing he had been searching for. He fully expected a lighting bolt to strike him from behind as he walked away from the small, cramped cottage in the middle of the woods, but the only thing that followed him were parting words in a dry screech.

“You’ll never find what you’re looking for! Without me, you have nothing!”

Lucas walked away with his head held high, not looking back, Falmouth at his side. The cackling resounding around them in the forest faded away slower than it should have. His shoulders remained tense even after the last of the hair-raising noises were gone and the oppressive darkness had lifted somewhat. Not until they had been walking a long while did he begin to feel calm again.

They stopped at the first safe looking place, a nice sized stream running by a flat topped rock. Lucas took advantage of the seat-like rock while Falmouth sat directly in the stream, not seeming to mind his clothes getting soaked through. Luckily he had had the forethought to take the packs off and set them on the dry grass of the banks before he took his watery seat.

“I’m glad that you didn’t make the deal with Margaery, Lucas, though I can’t say that I’m surprised.” Falmouth said. He started the conversation candidly, as was his wont. His voice was suddenly deep and clear. Lucas smiled, tilting his face up to the sun. The forest around the cottage had been suffocatingly dark, and this was the first time he could see the sun without trees blocking since then.

“Why weren’t you surprised?” he asked idly, curious. He nudged at a rock with his toe, leaning down to pick it up when it came loose.

“I knew you were a good person the first time we met,” Falmouth said. Lucas snorted inelegantly. The first time they had met had been when Lucas was ranting and raving in a prison. He was sure he hadn’t made that good of an impression. Falmouth sat up straight, a determined glint in his eye. “I’m perfectly serious, Lucas. You seemed confused at first, yes, but you were the only one of us to go help the tiefling who was in prison with us when he seemed to be in distress. Then you befriended me the next time we met, though we had barely spoken. I had never met any land walkers who had been ready to ignore my frightful form so quickly.”

Lucas marveled at the genasi’s eloquence and diction while properly hydrated. Though… there was definitely a certain charm to Falmouth when he wasn’t. He seemed more genuine and honest. In answer to Falmouth, Lucas hummed, not ready or willing to reveal that he did, in fact of point, have three months of history with Falmouth that the other was unaware of.

After a few moments in the sun, both stood in silent agreement that it was time to continue on. As they walked down the path, Falmouth drying in a frankly unbelievably short amount of time, the genasi began speaking once more. His voice was soft despite being garbled, sounding more subdued than usual.

“I haven’t told anyone about this, but I think you should know,” he said seriously, looking down at Lucas. “I was part of a plot to kill the king and queen. It didn’t work, though.”

Lucas’ eyebrows shot up in surprise and he stopped dead in his tracks. What in the name of all that was holy was this? With great effort, he remained quiet and let Falmouth continue, though he stayed where he was. The two stood across from each other on the quiet forest path.

“My people… we are often considered to be lesser than the people of the land. There were people in the court who thought that change was coming, and that it needed to come. When a political group contacted my people and made promises to us about a future with them if we would just take care of a little problem for them, well…” Falmouth trailed off, letting the sentence finish itself. Lucas held is breath as Falmouth continued.

“The details of the deal was kept to discussions among the lower downs, and while I was a commanding officer in the marine corps, I am just a field captain. I was put on the mission with a group of steadfast soldiers, our task was to sink a ship that would sail into the vicinity of our homeland. That was it. Just sink the ship. We didn’t even know who would be on it. I did… I did have a good guess.”

Falmouth paused and Lucas could tell that he was looking right at him, but he refused to meet his eyes. His throat was so tight that Lucas didn’t think he’d be able to manage speech right now even if he tried. Falmouth? Falmouth had been responsible for all this starting, all that time ago? He hadn’t breathed a word of it during all the time that they knew each other. Stomach feeling hollowed out, Lucas blinked hard a few times before just closing his eyes and covering his face. Regardless of how painful this was, he had to hear it through. Who knew what else Falmouth had to reveal?

“So,” Lucas started, once he’d had some time to recover from the initial shock, “you were told to sink the boat. Yet, I heard no news of a  boat sinking, or of the king and queen passing.”

Though Lucas knew the answer to the why of his unasked question, he didn’t know the how. He wanted to hear it all from Falmouth, hear him tell the full truth. Falmouth gestured down the path, trying to get Lucas walking again, but Lucas crossed his arms and stood his ground, not budging even an inch. Falmouth sighed loudly, then plopped down to sit in the grass by the side of the small train, his back against a tall tree. He looked up at Lucas pleadingly, and Lucas relented after half a second of deliberation. When both were sitting somewhat comfortably, Falmouth continued his tale.

“We were all ready that day. I was waiting under the water with my platoon, along the path that we were told the royal ship would be sailing. I was to give the order fot the attack. I still… I still don’t know what happened. I thought I did give the order, but I must not have, or- or something else went wrong. Maybe they had powerful wizards on the ship with them that stopped out plans, or… I don’t know. I really don’t. I still don’t understand how our plans didn’t work, they should have. The ship should have sunk. And every day of my life, I’m grateful that it didn’t. I don’t know if I could have lived with the guilt.”

Falmouth fell silent and strangely still, his only movement tracing patterns in the grass with one long tentacle. Lucas wasn’t used to seeing him so… solemn. He thought about everything he had just learnt, both from Falmouth and Margaery. If all this was true, and Margaery really was working on behalf of the Dawn Chorus, then that meant that they were much more influential and powerful than he had previously thought. Until now, he had believed them to be a cult of fanatics, who had hatched a hasty plot to kidnap the princess after the convenient death of the king and queen. But with this new knowledge- this was a dangerous organization with planning and resources, and they were willing to go farther than he had imagined when he had first encountered them. That didn’t mean that they weren’t a cult of fanatics, but if anything, adding that to the list just made them even more dangerous.

Lucas felt a chill run through his body. Margaery had asked him to kill the monarchs. If she was affiliated with them, and he was reasonably sure that she was, then that meant they were still active- and still trying to execute their plots. Falmouth’s voice brought him back to the present moment. He didn’t seem to have noticed Lucas’ temporary distraction.

“My people believed that I betrayed them, or at the very least, that I failed. Which… I did. The ship didn’t sink. They never accepted me back after that, so I moved out here, to the forest. Trees and animals are kinder than my people were to me. I still haven’t gone back.”

Falmouth tugged at the grass, then smoothed it down. He seemed to be struggling to say something. Lucas remained silent, hoping that it would encourage him to open up. Though he felt betrayed by this new information, Falmouth was… he was still his friend. And damn if he still cared about him more than he should. Finally, Falmouth spoke once more.

“I miss them sometimes.” The words came in a quiet whisper, and Lucas nearly missed them over the rustling of the leaves. “I know that they were part of something bad, and I don’t agree with them now. But I still miss them.”

Lucas couldn’t help himself. He moved over to Falmouth and wrapped him in a hug. Though his smaller physique was dwarfed by the genasi, Falmouth fell into his arms and curled in there, as if it was the safest place he could find in the universe. Lucas held on to him tightly, letting himself be an anchor, giving Falmouth something to hold on to, someone to lean on. Something he had clearly been lacking in his life for so long.

“I know, Falmouth. I know how painful it is to lose people you loved,” Lucas said once Falmouth had loosened the grip of his tentacles. “I’m glad that you got away from a bad situation, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

“I just wish I could go back, explain to them, tell them that there’s another way…” Falmouth said, “but I don’t think they’d listen to me.”

“No, they probably wouldn’t,” Lucas agreed. Then- “I’m so sorry, Falmouth.”

They stayed sitting together for a long time after the conversation ended, feeling solace in the quiet companionship.

Chapter Text

Lucas crested the hill he had last climbed a few months ago with Thunderclap. He felt a flash of nostalgia as he thought of his old mount. He hoped she was doing alright on her own. His thoughts turned from his trusty horse to the past month he had spent traveling – mostly – alone. He had left Falmouth back at his home, traveling straight to the palace from his friend’s cottage. While Falmouth had offered to come with him, Lucas had reassured him that he would be alright, knowing that Falmouth was reluctant to leave the peace of his small forest clearing for the noise of the capital city. They had enjoyed one last meal together in Falmouth’s home, Lucas working through his emotions at Falmouth’s betrayal. By the end of the small dinner, Lucas had decided to forgive the other man, figuring that he had paid his dues by righting the wrong that he had caused, even if he didn’t remember it.

Once he had left Falmouth, a sense of urgency had gripped him and pushed him to travel home as fast as he could. He had hitchhiked where he could, meeting a few interesting folk on the road. He had traveled with a couple selling pumpkins and chickens, a man who had told him a tragic story involving his son and a carriage accident, and a woman who was looking for her husband who had disappeared several years ago. Though they had sped up his journey some, none of them were able to bring him far. To be honest, he had been a bit afraid of the last one, as she had been quite intense, and he had left her not long after she had picked him up.

Regardless, he had finally arrived. Though it would take mere hours to walk to the city from here, it still felt like an unbearable distance. So close, and yet so far. Still, nothing to be done about it but walk on. The pack Falmouth had gifted him bumped against the harp in its case as he shifted it higher on his shoulder. Autumn had properly set in, making him all the more grateful for the warm-but-faded cloak wrapped around him. Winter was just around the corner now, the air crisp and carrying the clean scent of cold days ahead on the breeze. The leaves around him were painted in bright shades of red, orange and yellow, though some had started to brown on the edges. For now, he basked in the colours he found around him.

He couldn’t believe he had been away from the city for so long – it felt like just yesterday that he had set off on his journey. At some point on his way here, he had realized that he had now been without his friends for longer than he had been with them to begin with. The realization had come like a punch to the gut. To think they had only been together for three months…

He was determined to get them back, no matter how long it took. He would never stop looking for an answer. Well, at least, he would go right back to looking for an answer right after he found out what was going on with The Dawn Chorus. As he walked down the other side of the hill, he thought back to his conversation with the forest witch. What had happened with Margaery had deeply disturbed him, and Falmouth’s confession had just worsened the situation. The Dawn Chorus was a serious threat and he could no longer ignore it - not now that he knew they were still operating. He just hoped that he wasn’t too late.

By the time Lucas made it down to the city, evening had set in. A bad feeling crept into his heart and settled there as he walked through the quiet, dark city streets. They were always quieter at night than they were during the day, yet he couldn’t help but feel that there was a strange, oppressive stillness to them that he had never felt before. There was a somber feeling hanging over the houses of the road. As he walked, he noticed flags and banners flying from many of the windows of the buildings, though he couldn’t make out the image printed on them. He saw charms hanging from tree branches, from gates and fences, from posts and lanterns… everywhere and anywhere there was space. He walked over to a tree to investigate the charms hanging and felt a chill in his chest as he made out the charms sparkling in the light of a nearby window. The branches of the tree were heavy with the trinkets, which hung in all different sizes, colours, and materials. They were all goldfish. Some were encased in a glass ball, some were swimming free, still others shimmered with the sheen of magic charms. He raised a hand to touch a bright yellow one hanging by his head.

He walked slowly around the tree, letting his fingers trail through the charms, feeling the different textures against his skin. He took in all the fish; the ones the size of his head, the size of a pea; pink, orange, blue, black; metal, wooden, glass; painted, carved, bejeweled… you name it, it was there. Lucas reached up and took a closer look at one shimmering with magic. He could tell that it was some sort of protective magic, but what sort eluded him. All the magic on the fish seemed protective and benevolent in nature, though Lucas couldn’t fathom their purpose. Fear rose in his chest as he turned and walked over to a fence, decorated in the same fashion. Goldfish in all shapes and sizes, some magical, some expensive, still others homemade, yet clearly made with great love. What great evil had come to this city, that everyone felt the need to make protective charms, and out of fish no less…?

Then it hit him, and he stumbled away from the fence until his back hit the trunk of the tree he had been examining earlier.

Xavier… he thought in horror. This is Xavier, these are all Xavier. What happened to Ellorie? He pushed off from the tree, heart pounding, ready to march directly into the palace and demand answers of the king. Then he stopped. It’s already nighttime, the drawbridge will be closed and the palace shut to visitors. They don’t even know who you are. You don’t have your letter from the king, you don’t have anything, for that matter. There’s nothing you can do now, anyway, you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to get into the palace. What, were you just going to march up and go ‘I would like to speak to the king, please. No, I know he’s in his private chambers, just go fetch him, if you will, this is important. I need to ask him about the princess.’? That would be a fast way to the dungeons, at best. At worst, you’ll find yourself hanged for treason for… for something that you don’t even know yet! Just calm down, Lucas.

He hesitated there in the street, torn. On the one hand, there really was nothing he could do now. On the other hand, could he do any better tomorrow, with no letter of admittance nor penny to his name? All he had were his harp and his wits, and he was afraid that while he was making tremendous progress with the harp, it still wasn’t his best skill. And if anything that had happened that was time sensitive, well, he’d prefer to be inside the palace where he could learn much more reliable gossip than he could out here, where he knew no one.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his mind. It was stupid in the extreme, and there was a ridiculously low chance of it working, but it was the only thing he could think of at the moment. He set off, wandering the streets for a while, looking for somewhere he might spend the evening. He knew of a few fine inns in the city, but none were quite what he was looking for. He made his way closer and closer to the center of the city, keeping a lookout for a likely target. Finally, he found exactly the object of his search – a large inn with a boisterous crowd at the bar. Several at the bar were wearing the colours of the palace guard, clearly fresh off shift. He walked in, some patrons turning to give him a once over but most ignored him completely, faces shadowed in their tankards. There was a minstrel playing near the fire, attempting to keep the atmosphere upbeat and lively, but most seemed as able to ignore the musician as they were the flies buzzing in the corners. Lucas made his careful way into the room, ignoring the pegs holding the cloaks, keeping his own cloak on and his pack close by his side. He had gone long enough without that he was loath to part with them for convenience. Besides, it would be easier for him this way.

He sat down near a group of palace guards, easily the loudest patrons in the place. Setting his things by his feet, he signaled to the innkeeper to bring him a pint. The man came bustling over and looked Lucas up and down, noting the fine elvish make of his clothes and intricate embroidery on the cuffs. Lucas saw the man’s eyes drawn to the breast pocket of his vest, where a golden glint of the compass twinkled in the light of the candelabra. Without a word, the innkeeper poured him a drink, then whisked away to deal with another customer.

Lucas snorted quietly to himself. He knew he looked like a tittering son of a rich nobleman or some such, and he’d definitely play that image today. For now. As long as it was to his advantage.

Until now, whenever he had stayed in an inn, he had earned his keep with the harp or menial chores. As Persephone had wisely said, as soon as he had learned enough to be somewhat proficient on the instrument, he had found more doors opened up for him and he had had an easier time being accepted by the local townsfolk. If he was honest with himself, his skill in the harp had grown by leaps and bounds, faster than they had any right to improve. Somehow, it all just slid into place for him. However, all this was a moot point here, as the inn already had a bard, and it seemed to have all the staff they needed to take care of the place.

Lucas took a large mouthful of the lager, feeling it settle heavy in his stomach. He hadn’t been eating much, given the pace at which he had traveled here. He had brought precious few items with him, and he hadn’t had time to forage or hunt in the woods much. This was the first drink he had had in a while, as well, lending it even more strength over him. He drank down half the pint in a few long swallows. Within minutes, he felt the alcohol hit him. He continued sipping his drink, calling to the innkeeper to bring him something stronger when the lager was gone. Feeling a pleasant buzz from the drink, he listened idly to the guards chat next to him. They seemed like an obnoxious bunch, discussing loudly how well they had done in their sparring match today and disparaging their partners.

The innkeeper brought him his drink, seeming more hesitant about it this time. Lucas hid a smile, instead toasting the man silently and draining the glass in one. He sputtered a bit at the burn, feeling an immediate head rush. He tapped his glass on the bar, raising his eyebrows at the innkeeper in supplication for more. The innkeeper just glared back, clearly annoyed.

“Oh, hell no, buddy. You gotta pay up, or you ain’t gettin’ no more,” he drawled. Lucas had never heard that accent before, he was sure of it. The man must have been from far down south. He shook the thought away, knowing it to be a distraction of his mildly inebriated state. Smiling innocently up at the man, he tapped his glass on the bar once more.

“Jus’ one more?” he asked, slurring his words. He peered up owlishly at the man before him, blinking slowly. The innkeeper looked at him closely and Lucas bit back a curse, hoping he hadn’t overdone the act. He maintained the façade, and the other man finally huffed and crossed his arms.

“Look, man, I don’t know what the other bar you were at tonight was like, but here you gotta pay for your drinks. I’ve given you two now on your honour, and I ain’t gonna give you even one more until you can show me that you’re good for it.”

Lucas pouted, then reached down for his pack. He quested around in it for much too long, then looked entirely too triumphant as he held up a small autumn leaf. He placed it carefully on the bar before adding several more from his pack. In the small pile that grew on the bar were now a couple branches, as well as a small, smooth stone. Each was placed carefully on the bar as if made of diamond. The innkeeper’s face grew redder and darker with each worthless item added to the pile.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked, voice hot and sharp. The guards noticed the free entertainment and paused their conversation to watch. Finally, Lucas thought, exasperated. He barely managed to hold back an eye-roll at their obliviousness. “I said you gotta pay, not plant a garden. I ain’t no gnome. You owe me two silver, five copper for your drinks.”

“Ah, ah,” Lucas said, waggling a finger in the innkeeper's face. “Tha’s gnomish - knowm- nawmist! Nawmist.” To add injury to insult, he produced yet another leaf and carefully added it to the pile, balancing it on the small stone.

“There y’go, man. Good man. Good drinks. All paid up,” Lucas said, shouldering his bag and nearly falling over from the effort. Everyone seemed to have bought into his act at this point, even the minstrel going quiet to watch the events unfold.

“Don’t make me come around the bar, son,” the innkeeper said, eyes flashing. Lucas felt that one hit home, and his face flushed. He might not be the tallest man around, but he was definitely older than this man, at least by a couple decades. His fists clenched almost of their own accord, and two of the three guards sitting next to him jumped up. The one nearest him seemed not to notice the shift in Lucas, sitting and smiling dumbly at the scene playing out. “You know what? Just leave, get out of my inn. And don’t come back.”

Lucas spun around, saw the two guards standing at the ready, and mustered the haughtiest sneer he had in his repertoire.

“What’re you lookin’ at?” he asked, rudely shouldering the larger of the two out of his way. The guard went from shocked to livid in seconds.

“Why, you little pipsqueak, I’ll show you,” he muttered, grabbing Lucas by the shoulder and spinning him around. Lucas swung wildly at the guard, first punch going wide, the second catching him on the side of the jaw. Immediately, the third guard jumped up to join the fray, and the three advanced. “Now you asked for it, you drunk bastard. Assaulting a palace guard? That’ll be a night in prison, at the least. You better hope that that’s the worst they’ll give you. If I have anything to say about it, that’ll just be the beginning,” he promised, voice dark.

Still quite tipsy, Lucas couldn’t hold in his laugh at the guards bravado. Luckily, that just seemed to enrage the guards further and they piled on top of Lucas, restraining him. Lucas put up a decent struggle, he thought, for a man who was supposedly blackout drunk. It took the three of them to subdue him, while the other patrons shouted encouragement from the sidelines. To whom, it was unclear, but Lucas was sure that at least a couple of them were on his side.

By the time Lucas was gracelessly dumped into a cell in the palace prison, he was not conscious enough to appreciate his plan going exactly as he had wished.

Chapter Text

Lucas awoke the next morning with a groan. His head was pounding and the light coming in from the window only aggravated the scraping in his skull. He tried to cover his eyes and block the sun with his arm but his hand jerked to a halt a foot away from his face, a loud clanking sounding at the movement. He winced at the noise. He must have fallen asleep sitting up, hands over his head… wait. Grimacing, he opened his eyes, trying to get his bearings, to make some sense of the situation. Maybe solve the mystery of why he felt like absolute crap. He was greeted with the sight of cold stone and iron bars. That’s right - he had been thrown in the dungeons, locked up like a common criminal. He hadn’t had that much to drink, though, so why was he feeling so horrible?

He groaned again, letting his eyes slip shut against the harsh light, and leaned his head against the hard, stone wall. Well, he was here! He had made it! He was exactly where he wanted to be. Now, he just had to figure out how to get out of here and into the rest of the castle, where, hopefully, he’d finally be able to find some answers.

He sat, gathering his strength, listening to the everyday sounds of the castle for a moment – the shuffling of the guards on duty just outside the prison doors, the neighing of a feisty horse in the courtyard, the chatter of servants setting up for a new day. His head was still throbbing, but he needed to be functional, to ignore the pain for now. If only he had his harp with him, he could do something about it. He had a spell prepared for situations exactly like this and, heavens knew, it had come in handy on the road. Experimentally, he began humming the notes of the tune quietly to himself and was rewarded with an immediate lessening of the pain in his head. The spell was less effective than it was with his harp, but he was sure that it was a matter of practice. Pain abated for now, he blinked a few times, allowing himself a few moments to adjust to the lighting of the room before looking around.

As he had previously deduced, he was chained up to the wall of the dungeon, both arms locked up with little slack to move around. At least they had had the decency to put him on a pallet of straw. As he was taking stock of his situation, someone shifted in the corner. He turned to look, only to freeze like a deer in headlights when warm, honey-brown eyes met his.

“Hey, there, you alright?” Ashen asked, sprawled in his corner of the large cell. Lucas remained frozen, unable to decide how to react to the other man’s presence. “Looks like you took a nasty blow to the head.”

Lucas awkwardly rubbed his head where it had been aching earlier, arms not quite able to reach properly, chained as they were. His hand came away with crusty flakes of dried blood. Ah. That would explain his headache, then. He knew he hadn’t drunk that much. He sighed, resolving to find the guards who had done this to him and give them a piece of his mind on proper prisoner etiquette.

“Seems I have,” he said, in way of answer to Ashen’s statement. He avoided eye contact with Ashen, feeling adrift in the situation. Did Ashen even remember him at all? Why would he remember the strange half-elf he had met briefly, over three months ago? It hurt Lucas to think like that. How little of an impression he must have left, all that time ago. He distracted himself from his spiraling thoughts, bringing himself back to the current conversation. “Didn’t realize those guards had taken such a dislike to me.”

It was a weak joke, if one at all, but Ashen smiled anyway.

“So, is that why you’re locked in here, all trussed up like a turkey waiting for slaughter? And why they knocked you out to do it? You don’t seem that dangerous to me, small as you are.”

Lucas felt his face flush and he nearly snapped at Ashen before he noticed the twinkle in the other’s eye. He took a deep breath to calm himself down as Ashen laughed, clearly amused at having managed to rile him up.

“Sorry, sorry. That was uncalled for,” he said, still laughing but seeming genuine enough. “If you’d like, I can try to do something about those. As an apology.”

Ashen gestured to the manacles around Lucas’ wrists. Shoulders aching, wrists chafed, Lucas decided it would be adequate as a truce.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you,” he said gratefully.

He fell into silence as Ashen came over and fumbled around with the locks on the manacles. He was so very close; Lucas felt the heat from his body radiate over him and his breath stopped in his chest. Just as Lucas was sure he’d failed, the lock on his right hand clicked, the manacle falling against the wall, and Ashen moved on to the other one. Once both hands were free, Ashen sat back, and Lucas was able to take a proper, deep breath. Ashen’s familiar scent washed over him, lingering from his earlier closeness, and if Lucas hadn’t already been sitting down, he was sure his knees would have buckled.

“You still didn’t really answer me,” Ashen said, settling on the other side of the cell once more. “I can’t imagine that the guards hated your face so much that they arrested you on sight. What’s got you locked in here?”

“Right. Yes. Well, I might have punched one of the royal guard,” Lucas said, a little sheepishly. Ashen whooped out a laugh.

“You did, did you? Good on you, they’re a right pretentious lot. Bet he deserved it.” Ashen’s eyes were dancing in the sunlight, and Lucas had to focus very hard on his words to make sense of what he was saying.

“Oh, he definitely did,” he replied, sharing a grin. “And you? What are you in for?”

“Oh, a bit of this, a bit of that,” Ashen said vaguely, glancing away. “Mostly been charged with petty theft. I’m a loyalty member of these dungeons, visited here quite a bit.”

Ashen grinned at Lucas, inviting him to share in the joke. Lucas just swallowed hard, suddenly remembering the day a few months ago when he had seen Ashen brought to the king’s office in chains. Ashen had… Ashen hadn’t changed at all, had he? The grin slid off Ashen’s face when Lucas didn’t respond, and Lucas could feel a door slam shut between them.

Lucas felt a thousand conflicting feelings fighting for dominance in his chest, but overwhelming them all was the thought I can’t lose him. Not even like this, not even when he doesn’t know who I am. So, Lucas stood and approached the other man.

“I’m sorry, Ashen, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just… going through a bit of a rough time myself right now,” Lucas said, settling in next to Ashen on the cold stone floor. He rested one arm on his knee, the other leg stretched out in front of him.

Ashen turned to look at him, studying his face, brow furrowed.

“I- You know my name.” It was a statement, not a question, so Lucas didn’t answer. He wouldn’t have known how to answer, anyway. The truth was that the name had just slipped out. He returned Ashen’s gaze silently. So he saw right away when a light of recognition entered Ashen’s eyes.

“You! You were one of the people invited to the palace after being freed!” He hesitated, seeming to search his memory. “…Luke?”

“Lucas, actually,” he responded, not a little relieved. Inside, he was rejoicing, though he attempted to keep some level of composure on the outside. He had remembered him! “Yeah, I believe we actually met for the first time right here, about three months ago.”

Lucas felt a wave of nostalgia hit him as he mentioned that fateful day. He had had no idea of the adventures that were in store for him. No clue that he had just lost the four most important people in the world. To him, anyway.

Ashen had been looking around the cell while Lucas got lost in his thoughts, then laughed out loud, bringing Lucas back to the present moment.

“Ha! Yes, I remember! You… you had been going on about knowing us already, knowing all of us for- you had claimed that we were friends back then.”

Ashen’s voice had gotten more subdued with every word he said, brows furrowing. Lucas glanced away, cursing his friend’s insight. He felt Ashen’s gaze cutting into him, but he refused to meet his eyes. He had to distract him, not let him continue down this train of thought. Ashen had always been more clever than he gave himself credit for.

“Ha, yeah, I really was out of my mind back then,” Lucas said, forcing out a laugh. Ashen hesitated, wavering, but let the matter drop. Lucas breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He really didn’t know why he was holding this so close to his chest, but he couldn’t- he couldn’t tell Ashen. Not now, not like this. Not with Ashen still missing all their memories together. He wouldn’t have Ashen befriend him out of a sense of pity or duty. “Thanks for not holding that against me, by the way.”

“Ah, well, people do crazy things sometimes.” Ashen leaned back against the stone wall, hands interlocked behind his head, eyes closed. Lucas had nearly thought he had fallen asleep when he began speaking again. “So, Lucas, Puncher of Pretentious Guards, what have you been up to between visits to the palace and taking vengeance on petty bullies?”

“Chasing down a dream,” Lucas said wistfully. “I’ve been following my compass around. It must have taken me through half the kingdom already. What about you?”

“Oh, odd jobs here and there. Like I said, I find myself in here almost more often than not. It’s alright though, the king always shows up to release me after a couple days. Slaps me on the wrist, tells me not to show up again, then rolls his eyes the next time he sees me.”

Lucas chuckled, admiring Ashen’s profile, outlined by the light coming in from the window behind him. It made him look almost… angelic. Which was ironic, when he thought about it. His lashes fluttered against his lightly freckled cheeks, and he cracked an eye open. Lucas looked away quickly, not wanting to be caught staring. Ashen quirked a brow at the flush that spread over Lucas’ face, but didn’t say anything about it. He… he really missed Ashen. He missed spending the days traveling together, the evenings chatting together. He missed seeing his stupid face across the campfire every night. He missed laughing together, fighting together, cooking together, setting up camp together. Just being together, really.

“You’ve been following that compass, you said?” Ashen asked, cutting into Lucas’ thoughts once more. “What’s it bringing you to? Pretty damsels in need of a strong man to save them?”

Ashen waggled his eyebrows at Lucas, smirking.

“No!” Lucas exclaimed, feeling an irrational urge to deny the accusations. He pushed it down and continued a little calmer than before. “No, no damsels. Just lots of forest paths and the like. It’s supposed to lead me to my heart’s desire. Not that it’s been doing a great job of that, now that I think of it, everything so far has been a dead end.”

Ashen snorted, gesturing around the dungeon. “What, this isn’t what you desire above all else?”

“Not exactly,” Lucas said, snickering despite himself. Then, remembering why he had come to the palace, he sobered up a bit. “Actually, I haven’t been following the compass for the past while. I haven’t even checked it in the past month. I had to put that quest aside for the moment.”

“Oh, really?” Ashen asked, curious.

Lucas hesitated, debating how much to tell Ashen. He had stopped following the compass to come and deal with the Dawn Chorus, or at least find out what they were up to. He had tucked the compass away when he had left Falmouth, traveling straight for the capital. Now, he had made it here, into the palace itself, he just had to find a way out of these dungeons and speak with Winsmouth. He was sure that if there was anything happening, the king’s mage would know of it. But maybe Ashen could answer some of his questions? He was sure to know things that Lucas didn’t, having stayed in the capital city all this time. The problem was, Lucas had lived with his cards so close to his chest all this time, it was hard to give them up. Even to Ashen. Especially to Ashen.

“Yeah,” Lucas answered finally. Somewhere in the back of his mind he noticed that he was pacing. When had he stood up? “I followed it for a while, but as I said, it was all dead ends. Then I heard rumours of trouble down at the capital, so here I am.”

“Huh,” Ashen said, thinking, following Lucas with eyes half closed. “So, the compass didn’t lead you anywhere useful?”

“Not really,” Lucas shrugged. “Met someone who gave me a harp, which I guess was good. But mostly it’s been leading me to places that might have a solution and then don’t. And then it just… leads me on to the next spot.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll get it back with the rest of your stuff when they let you out of here. It would be a shame if it didn’t help you at all. Some guards aren’t known for being scrupulous about giving the prisoners back their things. Occasionally, the more… valuable items go missing before they can make their way back to their owners.”

Lucas looked around, realizing for the first time that his pack and harp were nowhere to be found. Oh, no… not again. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Hopefully, Winsmouth or the king would be able to help him retrieve his things. If not, well… the compass would be a loss. As useless as it had been until now, it was the only thing still pointing him in any direction whatsoever. Though he hadn’t used it in over a month, he felt it’s absence keenly.

Suddenly, Lucas perked up. Was that…? It was! He reached into his trouser pocket, hearing a faint ticking coming from it. When he drew out the compass, Ashen sat up straight, looking at him with shock. To be honest, Lucas didn’t feel much different, he could have sworn that he had tucked this away at the bottom of his pack at the beginning of his journey to the palace. And thinking back, hadn’t it been in his breast pocket just the night before?

“How…?” Ashen said, staring at the small golden compass laying in Lucas’ palm. “You shouldn’t have that. They take everything before they throw you in here!”

Lucas grinned and shrugged.

“I don’t know. It seems to have a talent for sticking around, even when all odds are against it.”

Ashen whistled appreciatively, looking at Lucas with newfound respect in his eyes. He settled back down against the wall, crossing his arms in front of him.

“That’s a nice trinket you got for yourself.”

“Yeah,” Lucas looked down at the compass fondly before tucking it away again. He had gotten strangely attached to it in the short while that he’d had it. He brushed off his trousers briskly. “Right! Time to get out of here then. You said the king usually lets you out? How long does that usually take?”

Ashen shrugged.

“Could be a couple of days yet, I got thrown in here not long before you, and it takes a few days usually. Once took a week. That was… a special circumstance, though.”

A few days? A few days was too long. He had been traveling to get here for a month, he had gotten himself thrown in prison to get himself into the palace the same night that he arrived, a few days seemed torturous right now. Ashen huffed exasperatedly, then slapped the ground next to him.

“Your pacing isn’t going to bring the king any quicker, you know. You might as well get comfortable. He… he will come, especially as it’s now two of us. Letting us go was one of the princess’ last requests of him, he’ll always honour it.”

Lucas stopped in his tracks, blood freezing to ice in his veins.

“What did you just say?” he whispered, feeling the colour drain from his face. He felt lightheaded, dizzy, nauseous, the world spinning around him…

“What? Lucas, you alright?” Ashen asked, sounding suddenly concerned. He was closer now, having stood to check on the suddenly swaying Lucas. Lucas whirled to face him.

“ What did you just say? ” Lucas repeated, voice rising. He grabbed Ashen by the lapels, needing to hold onto something, needing to stabilize himself in the moment, but also wanting to shake the goddamn man, what had he SAID???

“I- I said that the king would come, and that you shouldn’t worry!”

“Not that,” Lucas snapped, breathing coming faster and faster. “Ellorie- what did you mean about that being the princess’ ‘last request’?”

Ashen’s eyes went wide as the penny dropped. He shook his head slowly, disbelievingly.

“You really have been away for a while, haven’t you? How could you not have heard?” Seeing that Lucas was about to burst a blood vessel, he hurried on.

“Lucas, the princess – Ellorie – has been kidnapped.”

Chapter Text

Lucas felt a wave of relief, immediately followed by shock and horror. He sank down to the dungeon floor, head in his hands, conflicting emotions creating a storm within him. He was too late. She was alive. Was she alive? He was too late. She had been- Ellorie was- she was-

Ellorie was gone. The Dawn Chorus had already gotten to her. How long had they had her for? How far behind was he? Could he save her? Why would he be able to save her when no one else had? God knew, the king had to have tried. Lucas sat on the cold stone floor of a dungeon, feeling more helpless than he had ever felt before in his life, thoughts whirling like a hurricane. Then, everything stilled as a hand fell on his shoulder.

“Hey, Lucas, mate, you alright?” Ashen’s voice cut through the storm like a beacon of light. Lucas focused on it, letting it lead him back to the present, to reality. “Come on, let’s move over here. Onto the straw, that’s right. Good job, you’re doing great, buddy.”

Lucas followed the gentle instructions, letting himself be guided to the pallet of straw.

“When-“ he licked his suddenly dry lips. “When did she- when did this happen?”

“A couple months ago? Two and a half?” Ashen was watching Lucas closely, concern etched in every line of his face. How bad did he look, Lucas wondered somewhere in the back of his mind, to elicit such a reaction from a near stranger? A hand still lingered on Lucas’ back, resting there lightly. “It happened not long after the four of us returned to the palace to receive our gifts.”

Lucas’ heart sank and he buried his head in his hands. It had been that long? If it had been a week, even two, he’d have a chance of being able to track her down, but a couple of months ? She could be out of the kingdom, halfway across the world for all he knew. Her trail would be long cold. Ashen was still talking, so Lucas tuned back in. Maybe there was more information that could help, unlikely as that was.

“-so people are still hopeful. But by now…” Ashen shrugged helplessly. “No one knows if she’ll make it home at all.”

Lucas flinched at the blunt phrasing. No. No, he couldn’t allow this to happen. He turned to Ashen, about to speak, but was stopped by the tears in the other man’s eyes. Ashen sniffed, then scrubbed at his face.

“Sorry,” he said, voice gruff. “It’s just… she was a sweet little girl. She didn’t deserve this.”

Lucas reached out instinctively to take Ashen’s arm, just above his wrist. He squeezed and was rewarded with a small, grateful smile shot in his direction.

“Well, I don’t plan to let this stand,” Lucas said. Ashen’s sorrow had drained all the hopelessness out of him, leaving only a fierce determination in its wake. All he could think of now was a rescue plan. “Do you have any more information? I need to know everything.”

“I don’t know much, mate,” Ashen said, still somewhat red-eyed. “Just what the rest of the kingdom knows, which is pretty much what I just told you. The royal family haven’t released much information. I guess they’re trying to keep things on the down low as much as they can until they find Ellorie.”

Lucas nodded, deep in thought. He needed to talk to Winsmouth as soon as possible. He was bound to be in charge of the investigation, being the most powerful mage and most renowned scholar in the castle. Pulling out his compass, Lucas flipped the lid open and shut absentmindedly. Then he stopped and frowned. Why had he done that? He hadn’t fidgeted with the compass since he had stopped using it. He looked down at it contemplatively. What if…? Could it lead him to Ellorie? She was one of the people he had lost, after all. Was there a chance it would lock onto her? He flipped it open again and studied the needle. It was pointing north.

Immediately, Lucas felt foolish. How was he supposed to know what it was leading him to? It could be anything. He closed the compass once more, clenching it in a fist. First things first – Winsmouth. He needed all the information he could get if he wanted to help. Lucas stood up and walked over to the door of the cell. He didn’t know any magic that could unlock it, but sometimes mundane methods were easier anyway.

“Guards!” he shouted, making Ashen jump. The door at the top of the staircase opened and a young face peeked through. Lucas beckoned him down. “I have urgent news for Winsmouth, the court mage. Can you take a message to him for me, please? Ask him to come down to the dungeons?”

The youth hesitated, clearly thrown off by the request. Must be new to the guard, Lucas mused to himself. The boy disappeared, only to come back a few seconds later, after a whispered conversation.

“Um, a message will be sent, sir.”

Lucas nearly chuckled at the honourific, but he held himself back. The boy disappeared once more, the door closed, and Lucas sat back down to wait. He tried to remain patient, but his fingers drummed on the side of his leg, marking the seconds passing. Ashen looked at him, head cocked.

“You really think that’s gonna work?” he asked.

Lucas shrugged, not bothering to answer. Who knew, really? Unfortunately, a few minutes later, the youth reappeared at the top of the steps. He seemed to be shaking. Lucas looked up at him from his position on the floor.

“Um, I’m so sorry, he said that I was wasting his time and that I should never come back in his presence again. I don’t think he’s coming.”

Lucas cursed. Ashen put a steadying hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry, mate,” he said, sounding genuinely sympathetic. “But the king will show up at some point, I’m sure he’ll listen to you.”

“No.” Lucas slammed a fist against the floor in frustration. “I need to talk to Winsmouth. Now.”

His thoughts raced, trying to figure out a way to get the owl to come to speak with him. What if…? He remembered his last conversation with the mage, and an idea came to him. He just hoped he wasn’t terribly off course. He turned to the guard still standing at the top of the staircase and addressed him in all seriousness.

“I need to talk to Winsmouth, it’s a matter of national security. Do you have something I can write on? And a quill? I swear, if this was not important, I would not impose on you so.”

The young man didn’t even hesitate this time. He sensed the honesty in Lucas’ voice and acted with alacrity, bringing Lucas the requested items. Lucas hunched over the parchment, penning a quick sentence in a messy scrawl. Then he signed his name, blew on the ink and passed his hand over the words, casting a wordless illusion on the note. He hoped that it would hold while the boy delivered the letter, in case he tried to read it. Even if it didn’t, he had made the note deliberately vague, hopefully only decipherable to himself and Winsmouth.

“Bring this to the mage, and make certain he reads it.” Lucas looked the boy dead in the eye, trying to convey the importance of the situation. He knew that he had gotten through when the boy took the note, nodded and saluted him. For goodness’ sake. Someone had to teach the boy what it meant to be a prison guard. Though Lucas had to admit, he vastly preferred this to the ones that had bashed his head in. 

“Okay, bye!” the boy said enthusiastically, beginning to dash out of the room.

“Wait!” Lucas called out, nonplussed. When the boy turned around, Lucas waved the note that was still in his hand.

“Oh, sorry.” Chastened, the boy hurried back, grabbed the letter, and left. As soon as the boy was out of sight once more, Lucas sighed and leaned back against the wall of the cell. It was slightly damp, but he couldn’t find the energy to care.

“What did you write?” Ashen asked as they waited. Lucas remained silent. He trusted Ashen, he really did. How could he not? But he wasn’t sure about what he had written. It had been a calculated risk, and he wanted to wait and see the results before he gave anything away.

Sure enough, minutes later the door flew open and a flustered Winsmouth burst into the dungeon. They met eyes from the top of the staircase, and Lucas was surprised to see a smouldering fire burning in those of the mage.

“You!” Winsmouth rushed down the stairs. “It is you, I thought it was from your note. What do you know? And how? I’ve been trying to track you down since the princess was taken, but you had disappeared without a trace!”

Lucas took a deep breath, trying to remain calm in face of the storm of emotion coming off Winsmouth. He looked around, seeing that he and Ashen were the only prisoners in the dungeons, but there was an open window to the courtyard and the young guard from before was poking his head in curiously at the top of the steps. He looked back at Winsmouth.

“There’s a lot we need to discuss, but perhaps somewhere more private would be appropriate?” he said quietly. Winsmouth calmed himself a bit, fluffing his feathers.

“Of course, of course. Guards! Unlock this man and bring him to my office, I need to question him.” The second guard at the door, a few years senior to the youth, approached with the keys to the cell. Winsmouth turned to the boy. “Go, fetch the king and bring him to my office. Tell him it’s of utmost priority. Bring him my ring as proof.”

The young guard saluted, took the proffered ring, then dashed off to do Winsmouth’s bidding.

Lucas stepped out of the newly unlocked cell, breathing the free air. He knew logically that the air here and inside the cell smelled the same, but he swore there was a different quality to it once you were outside the locked doors. The guard went to close and lock the door behind him, but he spun around, blocking it from closing with his foot.

“Lucas?” Winsmouth asked, sounding guarded.

“I trust Ashen with my life,” Lucas answered simply. “I believe he might be able to help.”

Winsmouth looked at Lucas with caution in his eyes, but he nodded allowing Lucas to turn back to Ashen. He opened the door wider, holding it for Ashen as he made his way out. Ashen nodded to Lucas in thanks.

“Ashen, would you please join us?” Lucas asked formally, though he couldn’t hide the sparkle in his eye. Ashen covered his grin and acquiesced, and so the three of them made their way to Winsmouth’s office. They paused only briefly to collect their things and Lucas breathed a sigh of relief when he found everything there and accounted for.

When they arrived at the office, Winsmouth opened the door and they all settled into chairs around the small desk. Lucas looked around the office fondly, remembering the last time he had been in this room. It had been the last time they had all gathered together. Without Ellorie, of course. The thought sobered him, and he focused back on Winsmouth, ignoring the familiar room around him.

The door opened before any of them had a chance to speak, and King Conoris Lusensa walked in. At the king’s entrance, both Winsmouth and Lucas rose, though Ashen remained seated. Conoris took in Ashen’s position and clearly held himself back from rolling his eyes with great difficulty. Ashen just smiled at the man, putting his feet up on the desk. Under the king’s air of amused exasperation, Lucas could see that the man was haggard. He had bags under his eyes so deep they seemed like bruises, his hair and beard sprinkled with more white than there had been last time Lucas had seen him. Though he was putting on a brave front, his back was bent as though under a large burden and his clothes were baggy to a degree that he must have lost a large amount of weight in a short time. Given that the king was not a heavy-set man to begin with, this was all the more apparent in his gaunt frame. All this Lucas noticed in the time it took for the king to nod his hello and cross over to the three of them. He addressed Winsmouth, and though his tone was joking, his eyes lacked the sparkle that should normally accompany it.

“I hope that this man wasn’t the ‘matter of utmost priority’ you dragged me here for. I was in a meeting with Bubba, though he carries no news with him from the west.”

Winsmouth retook his seat as the king spoke, once Lucas had offered his seat to the king. There were only three in the room to begin with, and this man clearly needed it more than him. Ashen laughed lightly at the king’s comment, though even he looked concerned at the man’s weary state. At least he had taken his feet off the desk, and was leaning forward, examining a familiar scrap of parchment lying on it. Winsmouth began to answer the king, but Ashen interrupted, brows furrowed.

“The fraulein was involved – Lucas.” He turned to Lucas, skepticism written all over his face. “This was the note you were convinced would get you out of prison?”

Lucas rolled his eyes and gestured to the room around them.

“Seems to have worked, didn’t it?” he said, and Ashen raised his hands in surrender. He turned to Winsmouth, only to stop when he saw the king staring at the note in Ashen’s hand. Faster than the eye could track, Conoris snatched the paper from Ashen’s hand and read it himself, eyes passing over the words several times, as if trying to make sense of them. Finally, he looked up at Lucas, gaze piercing through him. Scrutinizing him.

“How did you know this?” he asked, voice deadly quiet in the unnervingly still room. “No one knows of the fraulein’s part in this, we kept that a state secret. How did you know that she was involved in the princess’ disappearance?”

“He also warned me about the fraulein the last time he was at the palace,” Winsmouth said, breaking into the conversation. “He seemed very sure that she was up to no good but, unfortunately, it appears that I didn’t keep a close enough eye on her.”

Winsmouth sounded genuinely regretful, and Lucas found himself nearly feeling sorry for him. Or, he would have felt sorry for him if he didn’t feel like strangling him. He had warned him! He had told him that Fraulein Wildred von Rheinhausen was trouble, but had the man- owl- whatever! Had he listened? No, he still hadn’t managed to stop this, even with prior warning.  

The king hadn’t looked at Winsmouth as he spoke, still facing Lucas, a murderous expression on his face.

“You had better explain yourself, Lucas ,” there was venom in the king’s voice as he spat Lucas’ name, “and whatever your intentions here are. I don’t intend to be blackmailed or threatened in any way in my own home.”

“No, of course not, Your Majesty,” Lucas said, bowing shortly where he stood at the side of the desk. He softened, his bearing and tone becoming less formal and more sincere as he continued. “My intentions here today are to help, not cause you and your household more harm. I care for the princess a great deal and I was devastated to hear of the events that have occurred as of late. I would have come sooner, had I known, but I had been called away by… duties of another nature.”

“I can attest to that, Lusensa,” Ashen said in the quiet that followed Lucas’ speech. As usual, he displayed an incredible lack of respect to authority. “I told Lucas about the princess just now, and he went nuts. Never seen a man lose colour in his face so quickly. I thought he was about to faint on me. The first thing he did when he came back to himself was try to get Winsmouth here to come talk to him.”

Lucas shot Ashen a grateful look and was rewarded with a wink and a smile. He quickly focused back on the king before he could get too flustered about what that meant. Conoris settled back in his chair, still looking on with suspicion but holding his tongue for now.

“Alright, say I take your word for it that you’re here to help. That doesn’t explain how you knew about the fraulein.”

The king sat straight-backed in his chair, hands folded in his lap, but his words were underlined in exhaustion. Lucas suddenly realized how close this man was to snapping. There was a wildness about his eyes and a tightness in his posture that spoke of a deep desperation. If he wanted to survive this conversation, Lucas knew he would have to step extra lightly. Suddenly, everything he thought of to say seemed flimsy in the face of the king’s anguish and grief. To tell him that the reason he knew about Rheinhausen was because of a successful attempt on the king and queen’s lives that he had essentially turned back time to prevent? It sounded like a far-fetched attempt even to him, and he knew it to be true.

Everyone was silent, looking to him for an answer, and Lucas, for the first time in his life, found himself at a complete loss for words. He bowed his head, unable to say anything to help his situation. He had no cover story. Nothing. Nada.

“I…” he hesitated, then saw the king’s eyes narrow at his hesitation, and he cursed himself for the bad start. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. I can’t tell you how I knew about this. I swear, I didn’t know this was going to happen and I did try to warn Winsmouth, so he could make sure it didn’t. I really wish I could tell you more, I do, but I just can’t .”

Lucas heard the words stumble out of his mouth, sounding desperate and pleading. He winced at the contradictions in his own claims, at how absolutely guilty he sounded. Clearly, the king seemed to agree, as he rose from his chair, his face red with anger. He advanced on Lucas, finger jabbing in his face with every accusatory word.

“You- why, you little- this is my daughter we’re speaking of! You will give me all the information you have, this minute , or I swear to God above I will leave you to rot in dungeon until the end of time , you see if-“

“What the king is trying to say, Lucas,” Winsmouth said, cutting into the king’s rant smoothly, “is that every piece of information we have can potentially help us find the princess. And clearly, you have information that the rest of us are not privy to.”

The king had turned his back on the small group, taking deep breaths. Winsmouth was watching Lucas closely, waiting for a response. Even Ashen seemed serious for once.

Lucas buried his face in his hands, trying for a moment to block out the world around him. He needed a way out of this mess. He wanted to tell them so badly, to spill everything he knew, but… but how?

“I spoke with her, once.” Lucas’ voice was muffled by his hands, but the silence was so deep that no one would have had any trouble hearing him even if he had been whispering the words. He raised his head anyway, wanting to leave no space for uncertainty. “I spoke with her the first time we were in the palace. I… I didn’t trust her back then, so I took her aside, spoke with her privately. She told me about ushering the kingdom to the light, about how we had to be ready… something about the way she was talking set me on edge. Then, when out on my travels, I learned of the cult - the Dawn Chorus. Their dogma and beliefs seemed to line up eerily with what she said, and I became concerned.”

Lucas paused for breath. He hadn’t spoken this much truth in a very long time. Of course, the last sentence wasn’t quite how he had learnt about the Dawn Chorus, but it was close enough. As he continued, he noticed Ashen watching him with sharp eyes.

“A little over a month ago, things came to a head when I met someone from the cult. I was searching for something, she told me she could help me find it, but only if I’d do her a favour. The favour she asked of me was to kill the monarchs here. I knew something must be very wrong, and I traveled here directly to find out.”

Lucas looked at the king, who had reseated himself at some point during Lucas’ story. He was refusing to look at anyone, rubbing his forehead.

“Your Majesty, I would never harm you or your family. I went to seek this person out, not knowing what they were a part of. I left as soon as I put the pieces together, and I came straight here. To my distress and everlasting regret, I was too late. I was reluctant to be forthcoming with my information, as I can hear in my own words the conjecture and hearsay that my tale uses as its glue. I hope, however, that you’ll trust me enough to let me help now. Ellorie means a great deal to me, and I’d see her safely home, where she belongs.”

There was a silence in the room as Winsmouth and the king held a wordless conversation. Ashen was still watching Lucas intently, as though puzzling something out in his mind. Lucas held his breath as the silent conference dragged on. He nearly despaired of getting any response whatsoever when Conoris finally spoke.

“I leave it to you, Winsmouth. If you truly believe this man to be trustworthy, I’ll follow your lead.” He glanced at Ashen. “Does he really have to be here, though? Why is he even here to begin with?”

“Your Majesty, if you choose to trust me, you’ll have to choose to trust him as well,” Lucas said quickly. He knew he was pushing the limits of what he could get away with, but he needed Ashen to stay there nonetheless. “He’s extremely clever, and more importantly, a good man. Now, if you please, I’d like to hear everything about what happened. From the day I left the palace until now.”

The king pursed his lips and sat back, letting Winsmouth take control of the conversation. He seemed to be keeping himself in check for the moment, but with great difficulty.

“Well, to be honest, we don’t have much information,” Winsmouth said, looking crestfallen. “Ellorie disappeared over two months ago, the fraulein with her. We made it look coincidental, but we know that she took her somewhere. We’ve tried every magical and mundane way to find the princess, but so far we’ve been unsuccessful. They must have powerful wards up around her, ones I’ve never heard of. I’ve tried scrying, locating, tracking spells… none have had the slightest effect. We just… we just can’t find her.”

“I will,” Lucas said, the words out of his mouth before he was aware he was saying them. He couldn’t have stopped them even if he wanted to, and he wasn’t sure he did, regardless. “I promise. I’ll find her and bring her home. Do you know anything more? Anything at all?”

Winsmouth shook his head.

“Only how long she’s been gone and that she’s being thoroughly protected. We assume the fraulein is with her, though we have no proof. Other than that…” Winsmouth shook his head again. “We know nothing. We don’t even know if she’s still alive.”

There was silence for a moment as Lucas focused on breathing, reminding himself that the Dawn Chorus had nothing to gain by killing her. And if they had... no. She had to be alive - she just had to be. As Lucas tried to shove the dark thoughts out of his mind, Winsmouth spoke again.

“Since she’s been gone, there have been two attempts on the king and queen’s lives. The first was a poisoning attempt that was caught by one of the servants, the other was an assassin with a cursed dagger who was caught before she even got into the castle itself. We don’t know if they’re related, but right now, we’re assuming the worst until proven otherwise.”

“That’s a fair assumption, I think,” Lucas said, rubbing his chin. “Especially considering the request asked of me by the witch. Tell me, Winsmouth, the compass that I was given when I was first here- could it help us track Ellorie down?”

The skeptical look on Winsmouth’s face did not inspire confidence.

“The compass attuned to you the day you received it, here in this office. It clearly had some idea of what your heart’s desire was then, which was before the princess was taken. Now, it could be that your desire has changed since then, but I’m assuming you didn’t notice any erratic changes in your compass since the kidnapping?” After a confirmation from Lucas that no, in fact, he had not, he continued. “Then I highly doubt that Ellorie is your priority at the moment, and therefore, not the compass’ target. So, no. Especially given that you had no personal relationship with the princess, no connection to speak of. If you had spent some time with the princess, then… maybe. A long shot, but maybe. As the situation stands, I’m afraid it’s quite impossible.”

Unexpectedly, it was Ashen that spoke up next and his words shook Lucas more than anything else he had heard until that point.

“But, say Lucas had had a relationship with Ellorie, such as a teacher, or… I don’t know, but if he had spent time with her, the compass could work?”

Lucas whipped his head to look at Ashen. What- ? Ashen stared right back, defiantly meeting his eyes. Why would Ashen be asking this?

Winsmouth fluffed up his feathers, looking defensive.

“I don’t know why this is even a conversation, as we know exactly how much time Lucas spent with the princess. But, hypothetically speaking, yes. If his connection with the princess was strong enough, and his desire to find her deep enough, theoretically the compass might be able to provide some help in the matter.”

Ashen jerked his head towards Lucas’ pocket, wordlessly demanding that he take out the compass. He did so, hands shaking. Ashen leaned forward interestedly as the small needle settled, pointing- north. Just as it had been in the cell. It hadn’t changed direction, which… didn’t mean anything, really. He looked up at Winsmouth.

“It’s pointing north. What’s in that direction?”

The king and Winsmouth exchanged a disappointed look. The king was the one who answered him.

“There’s nothing in that direction. The forest that starts at the edge of the city, and which we’ve combed through countless times. After that, there’s the open ocean. I’ve sent missives to the king of the land across the sea, they’ve checked the ports and have mandatory examinations of all vessels coming into the kingdom. If she’s there, they haven’t found her.”

Heart sinking, Lucas looked down at the compass, still resolutely pointing north. What did it want him to find that way, if the land was as the king had claimed? He closed his eyes, thinking back on the conversation, of everything he had learnt. Ellorie had been missing for two months, as had the fraulein. They were both undetectable by magical means, speaking of powerful concealment magic that even Winsmouth couldn’t break. Since she had been gone, there had been two attempts on the king and queen’s lives.

Realization came to him like a bolt of lightning from a clear, open sky. Lucas’ eyes snapped open. He closed the compass with a soft click and slipped it into his pocket, then turned to the king, letting his certainty ring through his voice. Beyond shadow of a doubt.

“I know where Ellorie is.”

Chapter Text

Everyone was staring at Lucas following his bold statement. As for Lucas himself, he nearly didn’t notice, mind running a mile a minute, everything slotting together in his mind.

I haven’t told anyone about this, but I think you should know. I was part of an unsuccessful plot to kill the king and queen… Falmouth’s voice came back to him, the memory of a sunlit conversation under green leaves. Falmouth’s people had been involved in the original plot that had failed, they were clearly trusted by the Dawn Chorus, they were a powerful people with unknown magics, and no one would ever suspect their involvement. It would be the perfect place to hide the princess. 

With that, another memory came to Lucas, namely, that of rescuing the princess with Ashen and Falmouth when she had been taken that first time. They had followed her - straight to the shore. Where three men had been waiting with a boat. Not that he could mention that part to the people in the room.

“Well?” Ashen said, breaking the silence. “Don’t keep us in suspense. Where is she?”

“Please,” Conoris said, voice tight. “If you know anything, please tell us. We have nothing to go on. Even if it’s a hunch, we need to look into it.”

“I- she’s being held underwater,” Lucas said. He was suddenly aware that he had to be very careful what he said next, lest he accidentally implicate Falmouth in the princess’ kidnapping. He didn’t want to cause any trouble for him. “There’s a tribe of water genasi who live in the ocean here, in that direction. It would be a perfect place to hide the princess; no one would think to look there. Plus, they’re powerful and dangerous, and a rescue from them would be extremely difficult, especially as isolated as they are. And I have reason to believe they are involved with the cult. I can’t say more than that,” he said, holding up a finger as Winsmouth opened his beak to interject. “I can’t endanger anyone else. But I promise, I’m not making this up, she must be there.”

Even Winsmouth, who had been on his side until then, was looking at him skeptically. The king’s expression was more outright hostility than skepticism and Lucas swallowed hard, knowing he had mis-stepped somewhere.

“Everything you have said here is hinging on your word and your word alone. Not to mention your as of yet unexplained, intricate knowledge of a cult that, to date, has shown nothing but intent to harm the kingdom,” Conoris said. His words came like the roll of distant thunder – quiet, yet somehow all the more threatening for it. “You have yet to show us any credible source for the claims you are spewing forth – and what claims they are! My daughter is being held underwater, a place inhospitable to land-dwellers, by a famously reclusive race that is almost never seen by man. And how do you know this? Oh, well, of course , you can’t say. Faugh!”

The king had stood in his rage and now towered over Lucas. Winsmouth was looking on in concern, but no longer seemed inclined to help Lucas in face of the king’s wrath.

“You disgust me,” the king continued, face twisting in a sneer. “I have mind to hang you for treason right now and be done with you. Guards!”

Two men burst into the room immediately, wrestling Lucas out of his chair and pinning his arms behind his back. Shocked by the rapid turn of events, Lucas put up no resistance, allowing himself to be manhandled. There would be no convincing the king, would there? Maybe he could try talking to Winsmouth when this had blown over a bit? Would he even have that chance, or would he be hanged before he had time to speak to the mage again? He really had managed to make a royal mess of this, hadn’t he?

Lucas bowed his head as the king ordered him thrown back in his cell, meekly allowing himself to be steered back to the dungeon.

Once again locked in a cell, Lucas found himself pacing restlessly, unable to stay still. He knew where Ellorie was and he wasn’t going to give up on her, even if he wouldn’t get the help he had hoped for from the king. However, locked in prison and about to be sent to the executioner, with none of his things… 

If there was ever a time to give up, this is it, he thought grimly.

Shaking the thought away, he instead began planning his journey to the princess. If – when – he got out of here, he’d need to get away quickly. He knew where he had to go, but how would he get there? He took out his compass, thankful that they had forgotten to take it in the chaos of his arrest. It was still pointing north. Lucas sighed in frustration, jamming it back into his pocket. Useless hunk of metal. He’d have thrown it at a wall, if he’d thought it would help, and if the racket wouldn’t have brought down more trouble on his head.

“ Pssssst .”

Lucas jumped, looking around the cell. He had thought he was alone in the dungeon…

“Hey, Lucas, it’s me. Can you hear me?”

“Ashen?” Lucas whispered back, still trying to find the source for the familiar voice. “Where are you? What’s going on? And come to think of it, why didn’t the king throw you back in here with me?”

“Oh, yeah, that. Well, as soon as the king called the guards, I put on my ring. Everyone was so distracted by your ruckus that they forgot I was there. Slipped out pretty easily after that, and I even managed to grab your stuff along with mine when I left. As soon as we figure out how to get you out of there, we can go.”

“Go?” Lucas cocked his head. “Go where?”

There was a long pause.

“To the land of fairies and unicorns, and of eternal youth,” Ashen said, and Lucas could almost hear the eye-roll in his voice. “To rescue the princess, obviously. Dimwit.”

The last word was added in an undertone, so it was unclear whether Lucas was supposed to hear it at all. Whether he was or wasn’t, Lucas was too dumbfounded to take insult.

“You… you believed me?” he asked, disbelief colouring his words. “And you want to come with me?”

“The king wasn’t there when you found out about the princess. I was,” Ashen said simply. “No one can fake that amount of distress. And about me joining you on your rescue mission, you couldn’t stop me if you tried. There’s something going on with you, mate, and I’m gonna find out what it is. Which means you’re stuck with me until I do. If that means we’re going to rescue the princess together… well, it’ll definitely be an adventure.”

Lucas smiled, relieved at suddenly finding himself less alone in this monumental task he had set for himself. With Ashen by his side, the rescue seemed so much less daunting. He straightened his back and let out a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said to the disembodied voice. “Alright. What’s our plan?”

“Good question.” Ashen sounded amused. “That’s what your job is. I’m just here for the fun and the fighting.”

Lucas shook his head in exasperation, but grinned nonetheless. He looked around once again.

“Would you take off that damned ring? There’s no one else here!”

“Oh, sorry, mate,” Ashen responded, “I’m not in the dungeons, I’m using message through the wall. Didn’t want to alert the guards by opening the door.”

Lucas nodded, then immediately felt foolish as he realized that Ashen wouldn’t be able to see him either.

“Right. Well.” Lucas cleared his throat. “We know she’s being held by the genasi…”

A few hours later, the door to the dungeons opened and a man walked in, dressed in servant's garb and holding a tray of food. Lucas looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, fiddling with a few pieces of loose straw. The man stopped short when he saw Lucas’ face.

“Is- is something wrong?” Lucas asked, heart speeding up. Why was he looking at him like that? Did he know something Lucas didn’t? Had something gone wrong on Ashen’s end of things?

“No, no, I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re a spittin’ image of my husband back on the farm,” the man answered, in the thickest drawl Lucas had ever heard. It was even stronger than the innkeeper’s accent. “Don’t mean to disturb you, just came to bring you your afternoon meal. Put the tray back between the bars when you’re done, yeah? We’ll come to get it when we bring your dinner.”

Lucas accepted the tray with quiet gratitude, suddenly starving. Come to think of it, he hadn’t eaten since sometime yesterday. The servant relocked the door after stepping out, returning the keys to his pocket. Before he could leave, Lucas mustered up his courage and risked a question. The man seemed to have a friendly enough manner.

“Do you know what’s to be done with me?” He tried to keep the tremor out of his voice, but didn’t know how successful he’d been. At least the man had stopped at the top of the steps, back still to Lucas.

“The king was set on executin’ you this evenin’, but Winsmouth talked him down. Said it wouldn’t be right with no proper trial. He’s a good fella, that one. They’ll probably come tomorrow mornin’ to question you again and decide then when to hold trial.” He paused, then turned back to look at Lucas, squaring his shoulders. “I’m sorry, and I don’t know if it’s right to tell ya, but no man should be left to wonder about his fate.”

With that, he left, and Lucas swallowed, rubbing his neck. He felt the ghost of the hangman’s noose around it and hoped against hope that Ashen was in place. He hadn’t heard from him in a while. After a moment, he picked up the straw again, twisting and weaving it into shape.

Then, without warning, Ashen appeared, keys in hand and a mischievous grin on his face. Lucas jumped up, sighing in relief, and walked over to the front of the cell.

“Well?” he whispered. “Did you get the scroll?”

Ashen held up Lucas’ pack in answer.

“It’s all in here, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” He set the pack on the floor and jingled the keys lightly. “So, you wanna get out of there now or wait until they decide to execute you?”

Lucas reached through the bars to smack Ashen on the arm.

“Let me out, you idiot!” he hissed. Ashen chuckled, but opened the door for Lucas with a dramatic flourish.

“After you, darling,” he said, winking. Lucas stepped out of the cell, pulling the door closed silently behind him. Ashen locked the door, then tossed the keys over his shoulder to land with a thump on the floor of the now-locked cell. He smiled in satisfaction, hands on his hips, as Lucas looked on in confusion. “Let them deal with that for a while.”

Lucas couldn’t help it. He started laughing, trying to stifle the sound with his hand. Ashen slapped him lightly on the back of his head, trying to get him to stop, which only made him laugh harder. Luckily, Lucas managed to get himself back under control before anyone came to investigate. 

Minutes later, a guard strolled out of the dungeon, straightening his uniform. Lucas was barely breathing in his disguise, hoping that no one would notice that the guard he was imitating was slightly too short. By about a foot or so. How he wished he had been able to use his harp for the spell. He knew he had to move quickly, as this spell only lasted about an hour and he needed to be well clear of the palace before then.

Ashen followed invisibly behind him, indetectable save for his quiet breathing. As Lucas closed the door behind them, the man guarding the door addressed him, and he had to work to remain casual as he turned to face him.

“Er, Jericho? You’re Jericho, right? I wasn’t told there was anyone in the dungeons. What were you doing there?”

Lucas relaxed somewhat as the guard’s words betrayed his lack of familiarity with the man Lucas was now impersonating. Even still, he had to come up with a plausible excuse to give him. Finally, he settled on the simplest one he could think of.

“I heard a disturbance inside, I just went in to check it out,” he said, trying to speak with the odd inflection of the guard he imitated, though he had only heard him speak once, earlier today, when being shoved back in his cell. He seemed to do a passable imitation, as the guard nodded and relaxed against the doorframe.

“All good down there?” he asked, and at Lucas’ nod of reassurance, continued. “Your shift just left to get some food from the mess, you should go join them before it’s all gone,” he said genially, gesturing down the corridor with his chin. As Lucas nodded his thanks, heading down the hall in the direction that the guard had indicated, the man seemed to put the entire conversation from his mind, yawning and scratching at his beard.

Lucas and an invisible Ashen made it the rest of the way out of the palace without a hitch, soon in the relatively safe cover of the treetops. The only sign Lucas had left of ever being in the palace to begin with was a small straw fish by the fountain in the courtyard, the strongest healing spell he could cast woven into its form. He knew it was useless, but it gave him some measure of hope, and wasn’t that all anyone could ask for?

As the two men made their way through the forest, Ashen slipped between the trees like a ghost, making barely a sound on the soft grass. Lucas, stiff from spending most of his day caged up and still not fully healed from the bash to the head, faired somewhat poorer. He left some tracks but was more concerned with putting distance between them and the castle than hiding their path. He just hoped they’d manage to get to a harbour and find a boat before they were tracked down.

They had been navigating the wild flora of the forest for a couple of hours before Ashen reappeared, pulling off his ring. He shrugged at Lucas’ quizzical look.

“I was getting bored,” he said, as if that was in any way an answer. “Either way, we need to talk about our plan, and that would be harder to do if you can’t see me.”

“That’s true,” Lucas admitted. He fought his way past a snarl of branches, feeling his body wearing out from the trek. He pushed on, knowing they had mere hours before his escape was discovered. If even that. If it hadn’t been discovered already. “Well, we know that we need to get a boat, find the genasi, find where they’re keeping Ellorie, free her, and bring her home safely. Preferably keeping the both of us in one piece as well, if we can manage it.”

Ashen nodded and the two fell silent, considering the immense task ahead of them.

“Well, I got the scroll, so I can learn the spell as soon as we stop for a bit. Being able to breathe underwater will take away, arguably, the biggest obstacle,” Ashen said.

“Arguably,” Lucas agreed, if somewhat hesitantly. While he was relieved they had a solution to that specific problem, he knew there were dozens of other issues, whether bigger or smaller, that would have to get dealt with. “But we still don’t have a boat, and I don’t fancy our chances of swimming all the way to Ellorie, even with that spell.”

“Well,” Ashen said, pushing branches out of the way for Lucas to pass, “what about your compass? Do you think it’s leading you to the princess? If it is, maybe it’ll lead us to a boat we can use.”

Lucas didn’t answer right away. How likely was it that the compass was leading him to Ellorie? Until now, it had been leading him to… well, to the man currently walking beside him. Him and the rest of his lost friends. Would it recognize Ellorie as one that he had lost? He was still pondering the issue when Ashen interrupted his musings with a question.

“Can I ask,” the rogue began, sounding hesitant, “how much does the princess mean to you?”

Lucas swallowed, understanding the unasked question lurking behind the one Ashen had asked. Had he been correct, back in the palace? Had Lucas spent more time with Ellorie than the king or Winsmouth knew, that he had managed to form a bond close enough to influence the compass?

“More than anyone can possibly know,” Lucas said, the words costing him more than he had thought they would. They slipped out like a confession, quiet and soft and painful. Ashen didn’t press, seeming to understand that Lucas would not answer any more questions, could not even if he had wanted to.

In the ensuing silence, Lucas slipped out his compass, letting it guide them through the trees to the ever-growing sound of the ocean.

Chapter Text

Ashen and Lucas were sitting on the deck of a proud vessel, enjoying a scarce moment of peace and quiet. For the past two days, pre-winter winds had been lashing waves against the ship, blowing sea water over the hull and into the numb faces of the crew. Now, however, a weak and watery sun had broken through the cloud cover, and the ocean around them was calm. Small waves lapped gently up against the side of the boat, the wind was just firm enough to swell the sails, negating the need for oars, and the one sailor who had been drunkenly singing the day before seemed to have taken ill.

They had found the ship by a secluded beach right outside the forest, where trees grew up to the sand and sheltered a small cove, hiding it from prying eyes. If not for the compass, Lucas was sure they would never have stumbled across it. The ship had been anchored there, waiting for the evening when high tide would pull them back out into the open ocean. After negotiating with the captain, which had gone much smoother than Lucas had expected, they got on the skiff and were taken onto the ship itself. While Captain Tarquin knew that they were on a mission for king and country, Lucas had been careful to reveal little else. He only gave Tarquin the compass to follow, which had seemed reluctant to change hands but had kept its course regardless.

Lucas and Ashen had spent the last couple of days discussing their plans for the rescue, but they had exhausted the topic by this point, feeling no need to keep rehashing the same things over and over. Their jobs on the ship had also allowed time for speaking, as they hadn’t much sailing experience. They mostly helped in the galley or earned their keep by scrubbing the deck. At the moment, however, no duties called, and so they were free to just sit and enjoy one another’s company.

Lucas shifted on the crate he was currently sitting on, stretching out his legs and his back. Ashen watched him from his position on the deck, propped up on one arm, the other resting on his knee. Ever since they had gotten on the ship, Lucas had caught Ashen stealing glances at him when he thought he wasn’t looking, watching him.

“Hey, Lucas?” Ashen said, sounding oddly reserved for his usual boisterous self. Lucas hummed in acknowledgement, not lowering his face from the sunlight. He could tell by the tone of voice that he wouldn’t like whatever Ashen had on his mind. He was not disappointed.

“Were you telling the truth, back when we first met?”

Ashen’s voice was quiet, almost swallowed by the sound of the water. Yet, Lucas heard him anyway, a pit opening up in his stomach. His hands went cold, unmindful of the warmth from the sun and his breath caught in his chest. His eyes flew open to land, aghast, on Ashen’s. Within the blink of an eye, he had managed to school his expression, but he knew from the look on Ashen’s face that it was too late.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, hoping the ice in his voice would deter further conversation. Still, the memory of that day rose, unbidden, to the front of his mind. It was crystal clear and sharp as a newly honed dagger. His confusion, then mounting horror at the situation he had found himself in was not something he would easily forget. Sometimes he cursed the memory of that day, sometimes he treasured it. It helped to remind him what he fought for when he felt too worn out to continue. Not that he needed much reminding when Ashen was sitting there, so close. Close enough to touch. Close enough to see the light freckles on his face, more pronounced in the sun. Close enough to see the gold flecks in his brown eyes.

Ashen looked deadly serious at the moment, no trace of his usual smirk lurking about his lips. He kept speaking in the same tone of voice as before, giving Lucas no indication of whether he had bought the lie or not.

“The first day we met, the first day in the dungeons. The day I lost my horns. I tried to put it out of my head, but then we met again, and now again- and there are so many things that just aren’t adding up. You knew my name, you knew Falmouth- despite both of us saying we'd never met you before. The way you spoke to Ellorie…” Ashen trailed off, shaking his head. “If that was the first time you met her, well, I’ll eat my hat.”

Lucas glanced up at Ashen’s head despite himself. A grin flashed across Ashen’s face, fleeting, yet brilliant. 

“You know what I mean,” he said, not letting himself get distracted. He ploughed on. “Besides which, you seem absolutely convinced that the compass is leading us to her, even though Winsmouth said that in order for that to work, you’d need to have had a much closer relationship with her.

“On top of all that,” Ashen said, pausing for breath, “There’s what you said back in the castle about speaking to the fraulein. If the king or Winsmouth had been less concerned with arresting you, I’m sure they would have realized how unlikely that was. I was there with you the whole day, from when we were let out of the dungeons until we left the palace, I know that’s impossible.”

Ashen grew quiet after this, voice lowering as though unsure of the words he said, as though he were talking to himself.

“All that doesn’t even bring into account this feeling I’ve had… like- like something is missing, like there’s something important that’s lurking, just where I can’t see it. Just a feeling that something is wrong…”

Lucas’ heart was pounding, the words filtering slowly to his brain. How had he noticed all of this? How had he put this all together? Why was he feeling this? Ashen ran his fingers through his hair, a habit he seemed to have picked up that Lucas had never seen. Maybe it had to do with him losing his horns?

“The truth is, the more that I think about it, the more it all fits together,” Ashen’s gaze was piercing, and Lucas closed his eyes against the force of it. “What happened, Lucas? What happened to us that I can’t remember you?”

“Nothing,” Lucas whispered, the pain in the truth of that word hitting his very core. “Nothing happened, Ash. Maybe in another world, in another time… but, no. Here, now, it hasn’t happened and now it never will.”

The ship rocked quietly in the waves for a time as Ashen contemplated what Lucas had said.

“Nothing happened… this time. So you did something to the past, you changed something, and it ended with no one remembering what you did. Did you- were you trying to fix something?”

“Does this seem fixed to you?” Lucas snarled. Damn Ashen and his damn questions. “The princess gone, kidnapped, and the cult gaining more and more influence and power? I should have seen to it that they were crushed, wiped out. Or at least left with no way to advance their plots. I should have thought of it.”

Lucas cursed his tongue. He had given away much more than he had intended with that, though he didn’t open his eyes to check what Ashen thought of it. He just sat, clenching his jaw, determined to give Ashen no more.

“So, you did do something. Alright.” Ashen sounded thoughtful. “But it didn’t work, or it went wrong. Lucas, please, help me out here. I just want to help. Just tell me,” here he hesitated, voice going soft and uncertain, as though unsure of whether to continue. Unfortunately for Lucas, he did. “What happened the last time? You said in a different time.”

When Lucas remained silent, tongue held firmly between his teeth, Ashen continued.

“Fine. I’ll keep talking, then. That day, the first day I remember you, you woke us all up calling our names. You recognized me, Falmouth, and the other guy in prison with us.”

“Daemys.” The name slipped out of Lucas’ mouth, and he cursed himself again. Why couldn’t he just- not talk? Not say anything?

“Daemys,” Ashen said, not noting the interruption save to file away the name. “You also recognized Ellorie, when she came in, which isn’t surprising, given the compass. You must have spent time with her, in that other… time. Place. Whatever it was. It must have started similar to whatever happened your first time around, because you didn’t seem surprised to find yourself in the dungeon, or with the three of us in there with you. You didn’t even seem surprised to see Ellorie come down, only relieved. The first person in the dungeon that seemed to give you a turn was the king.”

Lucas turned his face away from Ashen, hiding his pained expression. Ashen went on, relentless.

“Lucas, who came to the dungeons? Who came to you on your first time ‘round?”

“Winsmouth.” Lucas found himself helpless against Ashen’s questions. It didn’t matter how much he didn’t want to, the answers came out anyway. So he gave in. “Chancellor Abbeth Kelver, then Winsmouth and Ellorie.”

The truth, finally given freely, burned his mouth like acid, like bile. The words ravaged his throat like the claws of a wild beast. He felt sick to his stomach, but he knew now that he'd started, he’d have no choice but continue down the road he had chosen. Still, he kept his eyes closed. At least this way he wouldn’t have to see Ashen’s pitying looks.

“Winsmouth…” Ashen mused, almost thinking out loud. He was like a hound, worrying at each piece of the puzzle like a particularly juicy bone, before attempting to fit it into the bigger picture. There was no way he’d give up until he had them all. Realizing he was doomed to be stuck in this conversation for some time, Lucas groaned. Maybe he could get out of it by jumping over the gunwale? No, Lucas was sure Ashen wouldn’t let him get away that easily. It really was too bad he'd had time to learn water breathing so early on in their trip.

Eventually, Lucas settled on simply nodding, not even knowing if Ashen was looking at him, or waiting for an answer at all.

“Alright, Winsmouth came into the dungeon with Ellorie, and spoke with us four. Somehow, this ended with us spending months together, presumably with the princess also, for the compass to be finding her now.” Lucas pushed away the small niggling doubt that maybe… maybe it wasn’t? He continued listening to Ashen instead, knowing that it was useless to speculate now. Either it was leading them to Ellorie, or it wasn't, and there was nothing to be done about it on a ship in the middle of the ocean. “But where were we? And what were we doing? And why would a handful of low-life criminals be asked to stick around the princess? She has servants, guards, tutors… not that I can imagine they’d want us teaching her the kinds of things we’re qualified in. So what could we have done for her?”

“They had no guards,” Lucas whispered, voice hoarse. “Or, at least, not enough.”

“Okay, they hired us to guard her. I guess, out of the options, that makes the most sense. Though I can’t imagine how they trusted us. To be honest, this raises more questions than it answers. How did they lose so many guards? Was there a war? An attack? Traitors? Deserters? What happened? Why were they so worried about protecting the princess that they had hired us to do it?”

Ashen’s voice had taken on a desperate note. Lucas focused on the grain of the wood beneath his fingertips, the cold breeze on his face, trying to block out the memories of that time. Of finding out that the king and queen had died, that the princess had been snatched away from under their noses.

“The king- Winsmouth said that there had been attempts on the king and queen’s lives,” Ashen said, sounding apprehensive. If Lucas didn’t know better, he would’ve sworn that Ashen was reading his mind. “Is it- last time, did they-“ Ashen seemed unable to finish the sentence. So Lucas did it for him.

“They died. They went down with a ship carrying them and a large royal retinue, including most of the guards. None came back. They were waiting for reinforcements to come, but didn’t want to leave the princess unguarded in the meantime. So, Winsmouth and the Chancellor bound us to Ellorie by blood, ensuring that we would protect and take care of her. She was the queen, after all, sole heir to the throne with her parents gone.”

Ashen was still for a moment, then reached out and clasped Lucas on the arm.

“Thank you. For bringing them back, I mean. I know it must have cost you, even if I don’t know the exact price, but you did a great thing.” He paused for a moment, then continued, sounding wistful. “I saw Ellorie and the queen together once, just about a week or so before she went missing. They were walking together in the courtyard, while I was being escorted out. I saw them whisper to each other, then look around, and before I could blink they were halfway up a tree, giggling and laughing like… well, like they couldn’t be happier. It didn’t last long, a gardener came along and told them off for being so reckless, but just before I left, I saw the queen put a small yellow flower behind the princess’ ear.”

Lucas listened to Ashen’s recollection, throat tight with emotion. Ashen didn’t allow any time for him to process.

“You may not have been able to stop all the bad from happening, but even if you gave that family a couple more happy weeks together…” Lucas felt Ashen shift, presumably in a shrug, or perhaps just a stretch. “Well, who can say how much that was worth to them?”

A few gulls screeched overhead as Lucas tried to digest what Ashen was telling him. It was so easy to blame himself, to think of his flaws, to punish himself by wondering what he could have done differently. The direction Ashen was looking at this… well, it shed light on something Lucas had never considered.

“What I don’t understand is what happened during all of that time that we were together, and how you managed to undo it all.”

“We did,” Lucas said, leaving no room for confusion.

“What?” Ashen asked, confused, completely ignoring the ‘no room for confusion’ tone in Lucas’ voice. Lucas sighed.

“We fixed it. All of us together. Me, you, Falmouth, Daemys… even Ellorie.” Talking about their adventure together- though it had seemed impossible just moments ago- was suddenly not so difficult. It hurt, of course, but it was the hurt of pulling a rotten tooth, more relief than pain. Or, at the very least, a pain that would bring about relief. “While we were guarding the new queen, the cult kidnapped her and tried to spirit her away. We managed to get her back before they could get her farther than the shore, but the Dawn Chorus had taken over the castle and we had to flee into the forest. By then, Daemys had shown his true colours, being part of the cult himself, and left us to join them. It was just me, you, Falmouth, and Ellorie, on the run for the better part of three months, staying in inns when we felt safe enough, camping in the woods when we didn’t…”

Lucas finally opened his eyes. Seeing Ashen there, sitting as he had through so many of their conversations of before… memories assaulted him, disjointed, flashing through his mind.

Nights spent sharing watch shifts with Ashen, neither of them getting as much sleep as they should but valuing the company over their fatigue. Wee hours of the morning spent speaking softly of nothing, of everything, of anything. Ashen’s deep red horns glinting in the moonlight, or on the darkest of nights, reflecting the stars ever so faintly, causing them to glimmer. His eyes dancing with laughter, somber with grief, dark with anger, light with fondness. His low chuckle when he couldn’t help but laugh, but didn’t want to wake their sleeping companions.

The night they had shared a bottle back and forth, neither irresponsible enough to get drunk on watch, but their noses red, their shoulders more relaxed than they had been in months. The wind blowing a leaf onto Ashen’s cloak, Lucas reaching over to pluck it off, their breath mingling in the cold moonlight. Lucas freezing, unable to move a muscle, just inches away from Ashen’s face silhouetted by the glow from the coals. Ashen catching him anyway, holding him in place-

The night their lips had met, softly, gently, unrushed and unhurried, sure they had all the time in the world.

How foolish they had been. How lucky.

They had never had a chance to speak of it. Lucas often wondered if he had imagined the whole thing. As he met Ashen’s eyes, overwhelmed by the slew of memories they brought on, he knew he hadn’t. Those same brown eyes that had twinkled at him in the light of a fire, in the light of the sun, warming him more than both put together, now looked on, stricken.

He remembered the kiss so vividly, so suddenly, and his hand rose of its own accord to brush at his lips. His fingers lingered, as though to keep the memory of the kiss there as long as they could. It had happened near the end of their journey, mere days before meeting Winsmouth and traveling to Ottermore temple. He had agonized over whether to say anything the next day, but when Ashen had continued on as normal, then went quietly to sleep in his bedroll when Lucas sat up for his shift on watch… Well, he had decided to shut his mouth and pretend it had never happened. After all, what if it had all been but a dream, all but a lovely dream…?

He had let the matter rest, willing to wait. Maybe after their adventure was over, he could ascertain if it had happened, they could talk and see what the unspoken spark between them was. Maybe when they had finished their task, they’d have time.

How foolish, and how lucky.

He realized he was still staring at Ashen and quickly looked away, dashing a hand across his eyes. Oh, fuck. Fuckity fuck. He had known he had cared for the rogue deeply, but… he hadn’t realized just how far he had fallen. When Ashen had lost all his memories, he had tried to convince himself it was over, it would never happen. At least, not until he could get his Ashen back. What he hadn’t counted on was that this Ashen was just so similar to his Ashen. It appeared he was destined to fall for the man in every lifetime, no matter what.

Ashen cleared his throat and looked away, as if he, too, had been mesmerized in that moment. Lucas continued his tale, trying to keep his voice level despite the storm of emotion inside him.

“Winsmouth sent us to a temple, said to house a dragon tooth necklace able to grant a Wish of one who wielded it. We all traveled there, even Daemys. He had come around, and helped us get in and through the temple. We found the necklace, and I Wished.” Lucas’ voice hushed, as though even he couldn’t stand to hear the next words himself. “I messed up, I asked for the royal ship to never have sunk. I didn’t realize that- I should have known what that would do. I should have known that it would steal all your memories, of having met, having journeyed together, of, well, of everything that had happened. It also didn’t solve the problem of the Dawn Chorus, naturally.”

Lucas knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn’t help it. He realized that Ashen’s thumb was rubbing faint patterns on his arm, where it still rested from earlier. Ashen didn’t seem to be aware of what he was doing, so intent as he was on Lucas’ story. Lucas didn’t move – hardly dared breathe – for fear of calling attention to it.

“Lucas, you really can’t blame yourself for everything bad that happens in the world. I- I wish I could remember and help you with all this. But I just… don’t. Have you been- what have you been doing since?”

Ashen seemed to be struggling for words, not a common occurrence for the normally charismatic rogue. Lucas shrugged.

“I told you, I’ve been following my compass. Trying to find my heart’s desire.”

Ashen’s eyes flicked up to meet Lucas’, and a spark of heat flashed between them. Lucas looked away first.

“I think it’s trying to find a way to bring back your memories,” Lucas admitted quietly, saying those words for the first time. It had always been ‘his friends’. Now he admitted it, even to himself. He could rebuild the friendships, given time and opportunity. But they would always be lacking something. A quality that he couldn’t describe, provided only by shared danger and survival, a united purpose.

Ashen’s hand disappeared from Lucas’ arm and he mourned the loss.

“Mine? Or everyone’s?”

“I… I don’t know,” Lucas said. “I think everyone. I keep meeting up with the people I lost, and they keep reminding me what I’m fighting for. But with the compass… it’s not always clear what it wants, or where it’s leading you. I can’t imagine it will think me content with leaving some of my friends forever ignorant of our story.”

Ashen nodded slowly. Then-

“What about Ellorie?”

That brought Lucas up short.

“What about her? It’s leading us to her” - hopefully , he didn’t add- “and we’ll rescue her. What more is there?”

“Of course,” Ashen said impatiently. “I know that. But after, when you find a way to bring our memories back, will you bring back hers as well?”

Lucas sat back on his stolen crate, thrown by the question. He hadn’t stopped to consider it, driven as he was by such a single minded purpose. He probably should have.

“I didn’t think about that,” he said, still thinking over the implications. Right now, there was an Ellorie who had never lost her parents to the sinking ship, never had to rough it in the wilderness for months on end. A little girl who never had to run for her life with three world-weary men. A girl who had been through enough as it was, separated from her parents and hidden away. Did she need the added trauma from the memories Lucas held for her?

“Mate,” a soft voice interrupted him. “I think she’s been through enough. I know you must really care about her, but I think she deserves as happy a childhood as she can still have.”

Lucas nodded in agreement. As much as it would pain him to never have Ellorie back, he knew it was a selfish want on his part. And to hurt her for his own gain… well, that would hurt more than losing her to happiness would.

Just then, their conversation was interrupted as Captain Tarquin strode up to them.

“You should come take a look at this. Your compass is doing something strange.”

Chapter Text

Lucas and Ashen looked down at the compass in the first mate’s hand. It was, indeed, acting like Lucas had never seen before. The needle was spinning. Not in the way that it had spun when held by Falmouth or Ashen, in the sluggish, slow, confused meanderings of a lost soul. It was spinning fast, purposefully, as though it was trying to make a point by its spinning.

A thought came to Lucas and he took the compass away from the first mate, tipping it so that it now lay on its side in his palm. He held it steady as the needle stabilized, pointing- directly down, into the ocean.

“Anchor the ship!” Lucas cried, rushing to the side of the ship to look over the bulwark. He tried to pierce the watery depths but could see nothing of what lay in the murky sea below.

The captain immediately took up his cry, and the ship, quick and graceful as it was, came to heel. Tarquin pulled her head around slowly, trying to get her as close to the indicated spot as possible. Lucas watched the compass with bated breath, eyes glued to the needle to catch the moment it began spinning. As the ship came to a standstill on the ocean, the compass was still acting its usual self. When Lucas tilted it, however, he could see that it was now pointing slightly to the east instead of straight down.

He tucked the compass safely into a pocket of his vest, hoping it would remain lodged there and not float out into the uncharted depths he was about to explore. The ship floated delicately in the calm waters, seeming much lighter than her tens of tons.

Lucas took a deep breath, then tore his gaze away from the sea to look at Ashen.

“You ready?” he asked, and Ashen grinned at him with a sharp curling of the lip. Paired with the ice in his eyes, Lucas didn’t envy anyone who was on the rogue’s bad side at the moment.

“Ready when you are.”

Lucas made certain his harp was fastened securely in its case. He had checked and double checked, and it seemed to be completely watertight. It was the only one of his possessions, save the compass, that he had decided it was worth bringing with him. The rest of his things, safely stowed in his pack, went to Tarquin, who had agreed to sail back and drop their stuff at a contact of Ashen’s in the capital city. Hopefully, they would live long enough to collect them.

Ashen, likewise, gave his things to Tarquin, who took them gravely.

“Thank you, boys, for allowing me to be a part of helping the kingdom. I hope you’ll speak well of me when you leave this ship.”

“To the end of my days,” Lucas promised. He turned to Ashen, who had the water breathing spell ready to cast on the both of them. Lucas felt no difference once the spell was cast, so he could only hope that it had worked. His own spells that he had prepared were much shorter lasting and would have to wait until he got closer to be of any use. He had practiced using his voice as well as his harp to cast his spells in the moments he snatched for himself on the ship, and he had improved, though voice alone never produced effects as good as those of the harp. For this mission, however, he would have to make do.

The two of them clambered onto the gunwale, looking down at the sparkling water below. Lucas wondered morbidly what they would find underneath the glimmering surface. Would they find Ellorie cared for and relatively happy? Kept under lock and key? Or maybe they would find that the cult had decided that keeping an eleven year old princess was too much work, and it was best to do away with her entirely. Ashen cut into his dark thoughts with a smirk.

“Think fast!” he said, and that was all the warning Lucas received before he tumbled, head over heels, toward the water. Ashen followed, whooping as he came down. As he fell, Lucas felt the compass slip from his pocket, jarred loose by the sudden motion. Before he could stop it, it had fallen free and hit the water, just moments before he did.

Then, everything was chaos for a few moments as the water roiled around him. He lost track of which way was up, which was down, as he fought the currents pulling him this way and that. By the time he came to his senses, all he saw was a glint far below him. Lucas swam frantically after it, nearly missing the way his breath was coming in pants.

“Lucas, wait up!” Ashen’s voice sounded behind him. Lucas did, indeed, slow, as he lost sight of the distant glimmer. His chest tightened as his breath came shallowly, still straining his eyes for any sign of the golden compass.

Ashen finally caught up to him, grabbing his arm and spinning them around in the frigid water. They both flailed, trying to right themselves, unused to the strange gravity of the underwater world. Eventually, they managed to settle themselves, Ashen still holding onto Lucas’ arm to prevent them from drifting away from each other in the eddies and currents.

“Why’d you run away like that? Swim away! Damn!” Lucas felt like the fine stream of bubbles issuing from Ashen’s mouth should be bigger, distort his words more. His voice was clear, if strange underwater. Whatever made the spell work clearly allowed for them to speak as well as breathe, and allow them to adapt to the underwater environment much faster than normal. Lucas barely felt the cold of the water anymore. “Lucas? Answer me, damn you! Why’d you do that?”

“The compass,” Lucas answered shortly, pointing down. Ashen’s eyes widened. He looked down in the direction the compass had disappeared in, as though if maybe he looked, they would see it floating there happily, just waiting to be collected. Then he looked up at Lucas, stricken.

“I’m so sorry, Lucas, I didn’t mean…” he trailed off, and Lucas shrugged, feeling numb. What could one say, really? “We should swim after it, see if we could find it.”

Lucas shrugged again, knowing that looking now would likely be useless, given the natural movements of the water and the vast expanse they would have to search. Still, it wasn’t like he had a better idea.

So the two dived down together, swimming toward the distant ocean floor.

A few hours later, Lucas and Ashen were crouched behind a shelf in the sea floor, observing the genasi camp. They were lucky in that they had dived in so close to the location that they needed, and Lucas breathed a silent thanks to Captain Tarquin for his excellent navigation skills. He had feared that without the compass, they would never find what they were looking for. Though they hadn’t found the compass, while they had been searching for it, they had seen a genasi patrolling in the distance and discreetly followed them to this camp. Now they crouched, hidden from sight by the natural curves and gullies of the ocean floor, trying to gather any information they could. They had been watching the encampment for a couple hours and had yet to see any sign of the princess. Lucas shifted, aware of the time slipping past, aware that they didn’t even know if they were in the right place. They assumed so, but as the minutes ticked by, the chances of them being wrong grew. They had only twenty-four hours until their time underwater ran out- or, rather, nineteen hours now.

Suddenly, Ashen stiffened next to him, and Lucas’ focus snapped back to the scene in front of him. Ashen pointed discreetly to one of the billowing tents, out of which a decidedly non-genasi looking figure had appeared. Fraulein Rheinhausen looked just as old as she had been last time Lucas had seen her, and he felt the same burning desire to make an end of her as he had then.

She walked slowly across the encampment, holding something, though Lucas couldn’t make out what it was at this distance, and entered a tent a few down from the first. Moments later, she came out and returned the way she had come, hands empty. Lucas made note of both tents, then nudged Ashen, gesturing backwards, and they swam their way away from the camp, making sure to stay level with the sand. Once they were a safe distance away, when they were certain they couldn’t be seen or heard, they stood and stretched. Lucas brushed at his cloak, which had seemed to pick up about half the sand of the ocean floor. To be honest, he had thought of leaving it on the ship with the rest of his things, as he knew it would be a burden to swim in, but he knew it would be invaluable for his disguise.

“So,” Ashen said, trying unsuccessfully to wave the motes of sand that now floated around them from his face. “The princess is either in one of those two tents, or she’s somewhere else completely. Did I sum it up about right?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Lucas said with a sigh. It felt odd to do that underwater. “And we have to get past the group of genasi without suspicion, find out if she is in there, and smuggle her out if so. Somehow.”

Their plan on the boat suddenly seemed flimsy, like one gust of wind- or particularly strong current- would topple the whole thing and leave them exposed. Still, it was the only plan they had. And it would be much easier to carry out in the small encampment, as opposed to the major water genasi metropolis they had been planning around.

Lucas took a deep, watery breath.

“You ready?” he asked, unconsciously echoing his words of earlier that day.

“You’re the one going into danger, not me. I’ll be sitting pretty right here,” Ashen said, handing his ring over and settling down. “Just take care of it, yeah?”

“Of course,” Lucas said, accepting the ring gravely and giving Ashen his harp to look after. He began humming one of the spells he had practiced on the ship, his body changing with each note, becoming a… well, a very imperfect disguise. He examined the tentacles his hands had turned into, hoping his cloak would be able to disguise the fact that he only had the two. He pulled the hood of his cloak up and over his face, letting only his eyes glint through. He fiddled with the lay of the cloak, his clothing underneath, trying to melt into his disguise as much as possible. When he felt as prepared as he was going to get, he turned one last time to Ashen, who was sitting languidly on the sand.

“I only have an hour until the disguise fades, so I’ll have to get in and out in that time,” he said. “If I’m not back by then without the princess, get yourself to safety.”

Ashen’s only response to that was an incredulous snort, so loud that Lucas feared the genasi must have been alerted to their presence. Luckily, all still seemed calm and no armament of underwater warriors came to investigate. He stood there, glaring at Ashen until the man waved him away. Not wanting to waste any more time of his disguise, he went reluctantly, hoping that Ashen would be smart enough to leave if things went south.

He sighed. Who was he kidding? Stubborn man.

As Lucas approached the camp, one of the genasi sitting guard looked up. Then, he- well, if he was on land, he would have sprung to his feet. As it was, he rose in a spinning whirlwind of tentacles, flying a few feet off the ground before landing directly in front of Lucas.

“Falmouth?” the genasi asked, sounding bewildered. Lucas nodded at them, holding himself straight. He held his breath, unsure if his disguise would hold up in front of those that knew his friend well. “What are you doing here? I’d heard that you’d been exiled!”

Lucas drew himself up to his full height, unsure if the spell had been able to account for all of Falmouth’s extra height. He knew the spell had limits, and if anyone could break those, it’d be Falmouth. He hoped that if there was anything too amiss with the disguise, the genasi would excuse it as being due to the long time that had passed since they’d last seen Falmouth.

“It was a self-imposed exile. I have returned now, and I was sent here by the lower downs to check on the… charge.” Lucas cast minor illusion as he spoke, warping his voice to match Falmouth’s. He had remembered at the last moment, in a flash of panic, that he was underwater – in Falmouth’s element. He’d be speaking eloquently, enunciating his words properly in that deep voice of his. And, as Lucas had no idea who would be in charge here, he stuck to the things he had heard from Falmouth himself. It seemed to work, though the genasi frowned, looking troubled.

“Does Rheinhausen know of this? I received no word from the queen.”

Lucas felt his stomach twist at the mention of the fraulein, but he kept his face impassive.

“I only know what I was told. I’ve been back at the palace for a couple weeks now, and as part of my penance for my misdeeds, the queen commanded that I travel out here and bring back a report of the going’s on.”

If it was possible to sweat in the cold water, Lucas would have been drenched. Which, he supposed, he was. He was playing nearly blind here, the few tidbits of factual information he had from Falmouth being the only things he could rely on. The only things he could build off of. He hoped that he was making even the slightest bit of sense and not being too suspicious. After a slight hesitation, the genasi sighed, relenting.

“Alright then, follow me.” They turned to go into the camp, swimming lithely to the first of the tents he had seen Rheinhausen in. Lucas followed, attempting the same gracefulness, but glad in the end that the genasi was swimming in front of him. He was a creature of land, after all, no matter what his disguise was. The genasi turned to Lucas before they let him into the tent and inclined their head graciously to him.

“It’s good to see you once more, Falmouth. Your presence has been… sorely missed around here.” Lucas stood there, shocked, not sure how to respond. Luckily, the genasi didn’t seem to expect an answer, gesturing to the tent in front of them. “The fraulein is in there, she will take you where you need to go. She’s the only one who can access the tent with the… guest.”

So Lucas had been right. They were keeping this on the downlow. That was probably the reason that Ellorie was being kept here instead of the palace. Suddenly, he felt a wave of relief hit him as he processed the fact that Ellorie was here. She was here, he hadn’t been a fool for following the compass out here. She was here .

Not wasting another moment, Lucas lifted the flap and ducked inside the tent, bending down lower than he needed to make sure that the edges of the illusion steered clear of anything real. Luckily, the tent was made for genasi and was proportioned accordingly. As he entered, his gaze was drawn immediately to the wizened old dwarf sitting hunched over a scroll on a desk. He was sure there were other important things to pay attention to in the room, but he was focused solely on her.

He kept his anger in check as he bowed shallowly to Rheinhausen, schooling his expression into a blank mask. He disguised his voice once more, adding an illusion to make his cloak billow and writhe, as though tentacles were moving just below the surface.

“I am here on a mission from my queen. Please take me to the princess, that I may make a full report to Her Majesty, the queen.”

The fraulein looked up at him, and he swore that he could hear the creaking of her old bones as she moved. He noticed a small green charm hung on a chord around her neck. It was glowing softly, obviously magical. Had she been wearing that the last time Lucas had seen her? He couldn’t remember.

She looked cross at the interruption, frowning deeply at the request.

“That meddling old hag. You go back to her and you tell her that I hired her for a job, not to poke around in my affairs.”

Lucas didn’t move, not about to let himself be turned away so quickly. He allowed his next words to come out soft, coated in honey.

“Of course, Fraulein, I’m not here to disturb you. We simply are concerned with the job, and our part in it. We want to be sure that the bargain is kept, and be certain that the princess is safe,” Lucas said, casting charm person as he did.

The fraulein remained impassive, face cold and immovable as stone, unaffected by the spell. Lucas cursed internally as she stayed sitting in her seat, not moving from her position.

“You tell this queen of yours that she need not worry,” Rheinhausen’s voice came out querulous. Had her accent always been this heavy? “I will keep my end of the bargain and she will keep hers. Then, we shall part ways, neither in the other’s debt.”

Lucas growled, dropping his voice an octave and augmenting it with a hint of thundering resonance that bounced around the walls of the tent.

“My queen has commanded me, and I dare not disobey her. You should not either, if you don’t want the wrath of the genasi to come down around you while you live among us.”

This, finally, seemed to move her. A hand fluttered nervously to her throat and she paled. She came to her feet, holding herself as high as she dared. Even so, she had to tip her head all the way back to look into where Falmouth’s eyes would be, in the disguise.

“This insult will not be forgotten,” she said, sniffing disdainfully, “but I will take you to see her. Then you can bring your all-important message to your queen. And you must be sure to add that I will not stand to be threatened here, or the deal is off!”

She stalked out, brushing past Lucas indignantly. He turned and followed on her heels, walking across the camp. He heard various genasi mutter as he passed and he cursed himself for having chosen such an obtrusive disguise. Still, it was the best he could do under the circumstances. The genasi were notoriously secretive, most land folk had never even heard of them, forget seen one. The only way he could replicate the look well enough was to disguise himself as Falmouth.

Lucas’ heart rose with anticipation with every step they took. Each tent they passed made his heart leap – was it the next one? The one after? Finally, they reached the one the fraulein had entered earlier that day. He braced himself for the worst, but hoping against hope that Ellorie had been cared for during her time here. Rheinhausen held the flap open for him but he gestured her forward first, not wanting to put his back to her. She gave him a sour look but preceded him into the tent.

Hands trembling, Lucas followed. Inside, sitting on a pallet of seaweed on the floor was the princess. She looked clean and healthy, if a bit wan and thin. She squeaked when the fraulein walked in, scrambling backward to the wall of the tent. Lucas saw her clumsily fumble something into the space between the pallet and the tent wall, but Rheinhausen was too busy glowering at Lucas to notice. Ellorie was shaking, arms wrapped around her knees, eyes flicking between Lucas and the fraulein. She also seemed to be wearing an identical green charm to that of Rheinhausen, down to the magic signature emanating from it.

Seeing Ellorie safe and alive should have eased some of his anger, but instead, Lucas found it flaring even hotter. How dare this cretin reduce the energetic, playful, and absolutely wonderful girl to this frightened, shaking mess? He whirled on the fraulein and, on a hunch, yanked at the necklace she was wearing with a hastily cast mage hand. In one swift movement, he jerked it off, snapping the cord tied around her neck. Immediately, Rheinhausen’s eyes went wide, and her mouth opened and closed soundlessly in a silent scream. He heard a gasp from Ellorie and moved to block her view as the fraulein tried to gasp for breath, her lungs already filled with water. He didn’t look at the princess yet, keeping his eyes on the fraulein until he was sure she was dead.

Again , he thought with satisfaction. Finally, he turned to the princess, and his heart clenched to see her cowering in the corner of the small tent, as far away from him as she could possibly get. He stopped, reluctant to approach and cause her more distress, but needing to nonetheless. After a moment’s consideration, he dismissed his disguise, hoping that his more diminutive frame as a half-elf would be less frightening than the imposing figure like those of her now former captors. It would mean re-casting it before they left the tent, but if it meant calming the frayed nerves of a scared and lonely girl, it would be worth it.

Indeed, she fell out of her defensive posture, her shoulders easing slightly and her hands falling from around her knees, though whether it was out of surprise or a lessening of fear, Lucas didn’t know. Whatever the reason, she allowed him to come close and kneel in front of her, though she ducked her head and peeked at him from behind the hair floating in front of her face.

“Your Highness, Princess Ellorie,” he said quietly, this time seeing the surprise clearly in her eyes at the form of address. Her mouth twisted as though she was trying very hard not to cry and her hands were trembling, folded in her lap. He reached forward slowly to grasp them gently in his own. “I’ve come to bring you home.”

Chapter Text

Lucas knelt in front of the princess, watching tears fill her eyes and mix with the saltwater all around them. He stayed still, letting her process his presence, letting her absorb what he had just said. Then, slowly, a familiar sound trickled into his consciousness, a sound he had thought he’d never hear again. He stiffened, involuntarily tightening his grip on Ellorie’s hands. He steeled his muscles, fighting the urge to jump up and look around for the source of the noise. Ellorie had frozen as well, watching him anxiously.

He closed his eyes, focusing on where the noise was coming from. Somewhere… nearby. Behind Ellorie? Lucas knelt, trembling with indecision. He couldn’t risk spooking Ellorie, but he was drowning in the immense desire to tear the tent apart to search. He held himself back with tremendous effort, deciding to take the safe route. For now. It was a long shot, but that ticking…

“Princess, have you seen a compass here? Golden, about this big, engraved…?” Lucas trailed off as he felt Ellorie go rigid, her eyes flicking to the side, where she had hidden something earlier. Lucas’ heart skipped a beat, and he had to redouble his efforts in staying still. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to stop his hands from shaking. When he had composed himself somewhat, he reopened his eyes, waiting, feeling like he might explode of impatience. He didn’t move an inch. Just when he thought he wouldn’t get anything from her, his restraint was rewarded with a tiny, nearly imperceptible nod. He breathed out a shaky sigh, thanking every god he knew of, yet at the same time…

While he was undeniably relieved the compass had been found, he couldn’t help but grieve over the ghost that Ellorie had become. Where was his exuberant little girl?

“Can you show me where it is, sweetheart?” The epithet slipped out unintended and Lucas’ breath caught, terrified that he had scared her away. To his surprise, she seemed to brighten somewhat at the endearment, lifting her head and tucking back some of the hair from her face. She leaned over and pulled the compass from its hiding spot between the pallet and the cloth of the tent wall. Cradling it gently against her chest, she watched Lucas warily, seeming reluctant to let the compass out of her grasp. Seeing it, Lucas nearly cried for joy. Though it had been missing for less than a day, he had already begun mourning its loss, not knowing if he could find the princess without it or where he would go afterward even if he did.

He was loath to take it from the princess, however, seeing how terrified she was of that exact prospect. Well, for the moment, he supposed he could let her keep it, as he knew exactly where he was going – back to the palace. He’d deal with it when they had managed to deliver Ellorie safely home. For now, the sound of the ticking heartbeat was enough for him, synced to his own heart as it was.

“Ellorie, that compass fell out of my pocket when we came to find you,” Lucas said. Seeing her hands tighten on the compass, face completely blank, he hurried on. “I think it wanted to help us find you, to help you. Would you be able to hold onto it for me, make sure it stays safe?”

Ellorie looked up at him cautiously, then, finding nothing but sincerity on his face and in his words, she broke out into a shy smile. Lucas’ heart flipped over in his chest, and he knew he’d do anything to see his little girl smile again.

“Yeah, I can do that.” Her voice was soft and tentative, but the smile stayed on her face. She stroked the compass lightly, seeming to draw strength from it. “What’s- what’s your name?”

She ducked her head down immediately after asking the question, scuffing the sand at her feet and refusing to meet his eyes. He answered her, keeping his voice level, trying with every expression, every body movement, every inflection in his voice to let her know that she was safe. That her questions were okay. That he would never hurt her. Not for anything .

“My name is Lucas, and I came here with a…” he hesitated for a moment, thinking back to the moment on the ship. He cleared his throat and continued. “A friend. His name is Ashen, he’s waiting just outside the camp. We both came here to find you and bring you back to your mom and dad. They’ve been missing you.”

Lucas remained crouching, though it was beginning to hurt. He also knew that their time was ticking. If ‘Falmouth’ didn’t make a reappearance soon, things would begin to look suspicious. He couldn’t fault himself for his patience, however, when Ellorie scooted a bit closer. Lucas counted it as a win.

“You’re taking me home? But Fraulein Rheinhausen said…” her eyes flicked to the body lying on the floor, then stuck there, as if glued. Lucas reached out gently and turned her away from the sight. He wished he could have taken care of her outside of the princess’ view. She shouldn’t have had to see that.

“She said?” Lucas prompted her, though he very much doubted that the fraulein had had much worth saying. Still, it was important to know what ideas she had planted in Ellorie’s mind.

“She said that it’s dangerous at home, that I have to stay here where it’s safe.”

Lucas heard the fear in her voice. He couldn’t imagine what was going on in her head at all the recent events, but he knew that she had not cried out when he had gone after the fraulein. There was no love lost between those two.

“I’m afraid that the fraulein was one of the ones causing the danger in your home,” Lucas said, struggling to keep his anger in check. If Ellorie hadn’t been there, he was sure he’d have been tempted to resurrect the fraulein if only to punish her for everything she had done to the princess. For all her lies, all her deceptions, all her schemes . He took another deep breath before continuing. “She had no right to take you away, and your parents have been searching for you ever since. They didn’t know what happened to you, and they just want you to come home.”

The last sentence was said in a much gentler tone. Then he continued briskly, still making certain to seem as non-threatening as possible.

“Princess, I wish we had more time for me to prove my intentions to you, and to reassure you that I mean no harm- but we need to leave here. We need to leave quickly, before anyone figures out what’s happening,” Lucas said, pulling Ellorie to her feet. He paused, trying to gauge her reaction, but was finding it difficult with the little girl so changed. Was she hesitant, not trusting him? Or was she just scared about all that had happened? He continued, hoping she was following, hoping he had managed to convince her. “My friend, Ashen, has a special ring that he gave me to let you wear on our way out. Do you want to see it?”

At Ellorie’s nod, he produced the ring and showed it to her, letting her take it and look it over. It was an unassuming band of metal, silver, with no engravings or adornments.

“What does it do?” she asked, looking up at him.

“Well, when you put it on, you can turn invisible. You just have to think really hard about turning invisible, and it’ll happen.” Deep down, Lucas didn’t think that this Ellorie would have a hard time wanting to be invisible. “If you want to stop, you can either take off the ring, or think about people seeing you again. Ashen said you can borrow it to get out of the camp. I’ll make myself look like I did before, and you can be invisible. That way, we can leave together and no one will even know that you’ve left.”

Ellorie’s face fell, and she held the ring out to Lucas, trying to give it back to him. She looked so utterly miserable that all Lucas could think to do was find the source of that sadness and eradicate it from existence.

“Thank you, Mister Lucas,” she said, and Lucas had to lift a hand to his mouth to cover his smile. They’d definitely have to deal with that term of address, but he didn’t interrupt her, letting her finish her sentence. There would be time later. “But I can’t come with you. Fraulein Rheinhausen put up wards on the tent so that I can’t leave.”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry about that,” he said, unspeakably relieved. Was that it? “None of her magic is working anymore. You’ll be able to leave now, I’ll make sure of it. How about you go first? That way, if you can’t leave, you’ll stop me from leaving the tent too, and we’ll figure something out.”

She accepted that, nodding seriously, and put the ring on. She disappeared from view and Lucas heard a lighthearted giggle sound from where she had been standing just moments before. It warmed him from the inside out. As soon as she had gone invisible, Lucas saw a glint of green on the ground behind her. The amulet , he realized, and walked over to scoop it up. He tied the broken cord to his own wrist, not wanting to lose it in the wide ocean. He’d already had a scare with the compass and didn’t want to risk anything else falling prey to the fickle currents.

He recast his disguise, letting the image of Falmouth cover him once more, then lifted the flap for Ellorie, waiting a couple seconds to exit himself. He cursed the invisibility, promising himself that he’d learn a spell to counter it as soon as he could. If Ashen had that ring, by God he’d learn how to work around it. He just hoped that she had made it out, unable to check, though knowing there was no reason she shouldn’t have. As he let the flap fall shut behind him, a couple genasi turned to look at him. One began to approach, swimming toward him, and he vaguely recognized them as being the same one who had led him around earlier. He groaned to himself. Why couldn’t they leave him alone? Then he stopped, a thought occurring to him. It wasn’t in the plan, but maybe he could improvise a little bit. Could he make this play out in his favour?

Lucas drew himself up to Falmouth’s full height as they approached, and he turned toward them purposefully. He cast his illusions, letting his cloak move in the water as though animated by a multitude of tentacles and deepening his voice.

“I find myself in need of a mount,” he announced. The genasi came to a stop in front of him, tentacles twitching in bafflement. Lucas continued, not giving them a chance to respond. “I have received news of a troubling nature, and I must report it back to the queen as soon as possible. The fraulein stayed behind to deal with the situation and requests that she not be disturbed. For now, bring me your finest steed.”

Lucas looked down imperiously at the genasi, daring him to object. They looked surprised at this turn of events, but not overly suspicious, which Lucas thanked his lucky stars for.

“Falmouth? Did something happen?”

“I’d like to report straight to the queen, first, to see what she’d like done about this. But you needn’t worry. Rheinhausen is taking care of her side of it, here. I’m certain she’ll give you an update as soon as she… finishes.”

The genasi nodded, accepting the situation as Lucas had put it forth, and led the way to the side of the camp where a shiver of sharks was swimming. One of the sharks swam forward as their guide let out an odd noise – somewhere between a low growl and an expelling of air, or water in this case.

“This is Shirelle, she’s the fastest we have. She should get you to the palace in under a day. Just… make sure you take care of her. I’ll come pick her up again when it’s my turn to come in for supplies.”

Lucas thanked them profusely, but the genasi waved him off.

“I’m glad to help in any way I can. I’ve… missed you. I’m glad you’re back.” With that, they swam away, leaving Lucas alone with the shark. Or seemingly alone.

“Ellorie? Are you still here?” he whispered, glancing around. He jumped when a small hand took his, then relaxed, gripping it tightly. “Thank heavens. Okay, listen. We’re going to ask this shark for her help, and then we’re going to go find Ashen, alright?”

After waiting a moment, he sighed.

“Ellorie, you have to answer out loud. I can’t see you.”

“Oh! Sorry, Mr. Lucas, I forgot,” she whispered.

“Please, just call me Lucas, no need for formality here,” he said, before turning his attention apprehensively to the shark. He didn’t know what he had expected when he had asked for a mount but this definitely wasn’t it. He approached her cautiously, casting speak with animals in a flash of inspiration. He had learnt the spell during his long, lonely journey to the palace, missing Falmouth all the while.

“Er, hello,” he said, having no idea how one might address a shark. What would politeness look like to a shark?

If a shark could look startled, this one did.

“You speak our tongue, odd-smelling one?” she asked. Her voice was smooth and high, surprising Lucas. He had expected a growl, if anything. What did sharks normally sound like? Everything about this interaction was novel to him, and he found himself slightly overwhelmed by it.

“I do for now, miss,” he said, inclining his head to her. “Would you be alright helping me and my friend here reach land? We have another we need to bring as well, waiting a bit further away.”

Shirelle immediately swam forward, nuzzling against Lucas, making him break out in laughter. Ellorie gasped, nearly jerking Lucas’ arm out of its socket as she jumped away. Lucas held on, keeping her near, though it was a close call.

 “Of course, I will help you and your pup,” she said, voice going sing-song with laughter. “You have been most courteous. I shall bring you both to your friend, then call for my brother, who can take them. The two of us shall be enough to carry the three of you.”

“Thank you, your services are immensely appreciated,” Lucas said, a shallow bow punctuating his words. He turned to help Ellorie discreetly onto Shirelle’s back, making sure she was lying comfortably flat, holding onto the dorsal fin. Then he pulled himself up next to her.

“You still have a hold on that compass?” he asked her when both were settled. He waited a moment, then-

“Oh, yes. Sorry, I nodded again.”

Lucas kept his smile to himself as he thanked her, then urged Shirelle to take off.

Very soon, they were out of sight of the camp. Lucas let his disguise melt away, feeling exhilarated at their escape. Though they weren’t quite out of hot water yet, they were past the most difficult parts. After about ten minutes of swimming, they came across Ashen, just where Lucas had left him.

At the sight of the shark, Ashen jumped up, dagger materializing in his hand as if from nowhere. Lucas quickly dismounted and swam forward, waving Ashen back as Shirelle went off in search of her brother. The rogue sighed in relief, sheathing his dagger, and came forward to clap him on the back.

“I was just about getting worried there. Did you find the princess?” he asked, looking around.

As if in answer, Ellorie materialized next to them, ring in hand. She held it up shyly, proffering it to Ashen.

“Thank you, Mr. Ashen, for letting me use your ring,” she said as Ashen accepted it from her. He placed it back on his hand, turning it on his finger, seeming relieved to have it back in its place.

“Don’t worry about it, Princess. And it’s just Ashen, please. Mr. Ashen was my father,” Ashen said, grinning at the young girl. Lucas groaned at the joke, but then watched in amazement as a small smile grew on Ellorie’s face, then broke into a wide grin, and then a fit of giggles. She looked up at Ashen in admiration, who looked much too proud of himself.

As they waited for Shirelle to return, Ashen made small talk with the princess, who glowed at the attention. She produced the compass for him to admire, and he ooh’ed and aah’ed over it appropriately. Lucas couldn’t help but smile at the picture they made, sitting together on a rock on the ocean floor. He walked over when she flipped the lid of the compass open, curious as to what she would make of the wandering needle.

He stopped short when he saw that the needle was not, in fact, wandering, but pointing resolutely south-east.

“Princess, could I see that for a moment? I’ll give it right back, I promise, I just want to check something.”

Ellorie reluctantly handed the compass over to Lucas, who watched the small needle carefully. It didn’t move. He handed it over to Ashen, who took it, but with a questioning look at Lucas. They all watched as the needle began spinning confusedly. Wandering this way and that, not pointing to anything.

“Huh,” Ashen said, then handed it back to Ellorie. The needle stabilized almost immediately, again pointing south-east. Lucas frowned. Well, that sure was a puzzle they’d have to figure out. The only other time the compass had worked for someone else was on the ship, when the captain had needed to know where to go in order to bring Lucas there, and even then, it had seemed reluctant and sluggish. With Ellorie, it seemed eager, moving with alacrity, as though…

Just then, Shirelle reappeared, breaking off Lucas’ line of thought. Behind her was a second shark, slightly smaller and darker in shade. Lucas greeted them both warmly as Shirelle swam rings around him, nipping at him playfully.

“Now, Ellorie,” Lucas said, batting at the shark as she latched onto his cloak and pulled, nearly yanking him off his feet. “You have the most important job here. You have the compass, it’ll point us to the shore. Can you keep an eye on it? That also means you’ll need to call breaks, to make sure you can check to see that we’re going in the right direction.”

Ellorie nodded seriously, and Lucas hoped that this responsibility would help her feel safe – both to take control of where they were going and to ask for a rest when she needed. She looked down at the still open compass in her hand, turning slowly until she was facing the right direction.

“That way,” she said, pointing.

With that, well aware that the clock was ticking until they were discovered, they quickly mounted their steeds and set off towards land.

Chapter Text

Lucas and Ashen walked in the quiet streets of the pre-dawn city. Ellorie followed invisibly half a step behind Lucas, holding his hand. They had made it to the capital city a mere five and a half days after leaving it, and not much had changed during their absence. It would have taken much longer had Shirelle and her brother not agreed to take them all the way to the shore. While they had swum faster than the ship had sailed, they had needed to stop to sleep at some point on the journey. Not to mention that they had come out of the sea somewhat further east than they had intended, given the compass’ directions.

After that had come a trek through the forest, where they’d had to disregard the compass completely and rely on the sun to guide their steps. Lucas was sure it wanted him to continue his journey, now that the princess was found and relatively safe. But then… why was it still responding to Ellorie like it had when he had found her? She still held onto it, sleeping with it tucked under her cheek at nights and fiddling with it throughout the days. She still checked it every once in a while, though they weren’t following it, and would turn her gaze in that direction, needing a gentle nudge to keep going.

In spite of the Compass of Never-Ending Frustration, they made it to the capital city. Ashen now led the way through the streets to his contact’s house, where they hoped to pick up their bags. As they walked, Lucas saw Ellorie looking around in interest. During their trek in the woods, he had composed a spell on his harp to combat the invisibility of the ring and he had cast it right before they had entered the city. So, he could now see Ellorie, though she wavered at the edges as though she were a mirage he was seeing on a particularly hot day. She also cast no shadow, giving her a ghostly impression in the dark of the morning.

Suddenly, she jerked to a halt with a gasp, pulling Lucas to a stop as well. Ashen kept walking for a few steps before realizing that they had fallen behind. He turned in askance to Lucas, who shrugged, not knowing what had caught the princess’ attention. He looked around to make sure there was no one in sight before crouching down to Ellorie’s level. His concern grew as she turned her face away, hiding from Lucas, breath hitching.

“Ellorie? What’s the matter, sweetheart?” Lucas asked, trying to keep his voice soft. He had fallen quickly into old mannerisms with her, and it seemed to give her some comfort when he treated her less like a princess and more like the young girl she was. His concern for her grew tenfold when she pulled her hand from his to wipe at her eyes. Was this just the normal emotions that finally being home brought forth? Or was this something bigger? “Why did you stop? Ellorie?”

She sniffed, then took Lucas’ hand once more, bringing him over to a nearby tree.

“I’m sorry, Lucas. I just- I felt something as soon as we came into the city, but I didn’t know what it was,” Ellorie said quietly, looking up at the tree. Lucas followed her gaze and saw the charms hanging off it. He felt understanding flood him as he took in the multitude of goldfish swimming beneath and between the leaves. He had to fight to retain his composure, not needing the explanation Ellorie provided, but tearing up at the words nonetheless. “I didn’t know how much everyone wanted me home, how much everyone missed me. But I can feel it, Lucas, I can feel it in the fish. It’s like everyone is giving me a hug to welcome me home.”

Lucas saw a healthy flush in Ellorie’s cheeks for the first time since finding her. She had been wan and almost- almost dull their whole journey. Now, she was sparkling, standing under the twinkle of a thousand magical fish. The health charms seemed to be working on her, giving her a sense of well-being she had been lacking since she’d been taken.

They stood for a few moments longer, until Lucas saw the first rays of sunrise pierce the horizon. Reluctant to drag her away, but knowing it was necessary if they wanted to get off the streets before they began filling with people, he gave her hand a gentle tug. She followed his lead easily, coming away from the tree with a bounce in her step that lifted Lucas’ heart. As they continued to walk through the city, Ellorie’s head was on a swivel, seeming awed by the sheer volume of fish charms and banners hanging from various objects. Soon, however, they arrived at Ashen’s contact’s house.

After a quiet conversation with the newly introduced ‘Don Vincenzio’, they retrieved their possessions. Lucas was relieved that Tarquin had managed to send them to the right place. The Don welcomed them into his house, insisting that they stay for some food and drink, a quiet place to rest from their journey. They accepted gratefully, knowing that they wouldn’t be able to get into the palace until full morning, anyway, when the drawbridge would come down. At the adults’ prompting, Ellorie stayed invisible, not revealing her presence to the Don, staying hidden for the moment. While Lucas merely didn’t want to cause a scene, Ashen had muttered something about Vincenzio ‘not being very stable around children’.

Eventually, the Don went to survey his vineyards, leaving them all to eat and rest. They all fell to with enthusiasm, not having had a chance to eat this well in a long time. The grapes were especially tasty. When they had eaten their fill, Ashen began speaking, the shadows from the curtain creating a mottled pattern on his skin.

“Well, the sun’s rising,” he said quietly. “We need to discuss a plan for getting into the palace.”

Lucas looked at him blankly.

“We have the princess, why wouldn’t they let us in?” he asked, utterly baffled. Did Ashen think that the guards would bar Ellorie from her own home? After all that they had been through to try and get her back?

“Yeah,” Ellorie piped up. “My dad wouldn’t let them not let me in. I think we should go tell them I’m back, and then everyone will be excited and let us in.”

Ashen jumped to his feet, waving his hands in front of him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s all calm down now, shall we? I don’t think it’s the best idea to go marching in and announce that the princess is back to everyone who might be listening.”

“Why?” Lucas asked, frowning. “The princess is back, the fraulein is dead. What’s the problem?”

“Are you joking?” Ashen looked at Lucas, incredulous. “The Dawn Chorus? Ring any bells?”

“Ashen,” Lucas said, frowning, “stop treating me like an idiot and say what you mean. What about the Dawn Chorus?”

Ashen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Ellorie, do you want to go play in the garden for a bit?”

Even from where he was sitting, Lucas could see Ellorie shut down. Her eyes went blank, shoulders hunching in on themselves and head ducking. Under the bland expression, her bottom lip trembled and her hands began shaking. Of course, Ashen couldn’t see it, so Lucas broke in before the princess could break down, or worse.

“Ashen, I think Ellorie would like to stay and be a part of this conversation.” Ashen met Lucas’ eyes and an understanding passed between them. Ellorie had had all control taken away from her for a very long time, and the more they could give her a sense of security, the better off she’d be.

“Of course, Ellorie, I didn’t mean to send you away. I just didn’t want to frighten you,” Ashen said, looking in Ellorie’s general direction. At his words, she straightened a bit, a spark of life returning to her eyes, though she rubbed her hands as if cold.

“I’m not scared of anything,” she said, trying to sound confident. Her voice shook, giving her away. Lucas scratched at his nose, hiding a grin behind his hand. He was more grateful than he could express at this show of bravery from his little girl.

“Of course not,” Ashen said, turning back to Lucas with barely contained amusement. Lucas managed to stifle a laugh, turning it into a cough. “Regardless, we have to figure out what to do. The Dawn Chorus is still out there and we have no idea what happened while we were away. We also don’t know why the king kept some details of the princess’ disappearance so quiet. I just think… I think a little caution here wouldn’t hurt.”

Lucas could tell that Ashen was modulating his words for the young girl. He was much more worried about the cult than he was letting on, and now that Lucas thought about it, he was right. It would be wise to exercise some caution.

“Well, then,” he said, exchanging a glance with Ashen, “we’re going to need a plan.”

Ashen, Lucas, and Ellorie approached the palace. Of course, the only one the guards would see as themselves was Ashen. Lucas had once again taken the guise of a guard, though with the livery of one of the local lords instead of that of a palace guard, and Ellorie rode on him like an over-sized backpack, invisible. They had borrowed a set of handcuffs from Don Vincenzio, not asking any questions on why he had them or how he had gotten them. As Lucas led Ashen along, he prayed their ruse would work, and that they’d get into the palace without a hitch.

The two guards looked him up and down, appraising the colours and cut of his uniform. They nodded to him stiffly, still barring the gate, but seeming to recognize that he was employed by a noble.

“Announce yourself, stranger. What business brings you to the palace today?”

 Lucas stopped, puffing himself up as much as he could with an eleven-year-old clinging to his back. He saluted sharply to the guards on duty and handed over a carefully forged document. It was hastily done, and they hadn’t been able to find a copy of the lord’s signature and seal to copy, so it was mostly based on guesswork. Guesswork, and a foggy memory of the emblem printed on the side of a carriage Lucas had passed months ago.

He felt himself begin to sweat as one guard took the letter lazily and passed a cursory look at its contents. Would they catch the fake? He began speaking, hoping to distract the guard from a more careful inspection. 

“I work for the Lord Lafayette. He demanded that I bring this man to the king’s justice. He wants him dealt with directly.”

His ruse seemed to work, the guard handing him back the letter without another glance. He tucked it away quickly, sending a silent prayer of thanks but keeping his face clear of any sign of relief. At his words, the guards barring the way exchanged exasperated looks, not seeming at all surprised to see Ashen in cuffs once again.

“What’s he done this time, then? Stolen his dinner from his plate? Or maybe his wife from his bed?” one guard asked, smirking. The other snickered. Lucas felt a flash of anger, but shoved it down. Now was not the time.

“Well, the claim is that he murdered their gardener,” Lucas said, then leaned in conspiratorily. “If you ask me, though, I think they’re just trying to cover up for something. They lost a rosebush competition, and the gardener was killed mere hours later. Coincidence? I think not.”

Lucas leaned back and adopted a more formal stance, but he could see that the guards were nodding, looking at each other with meaningful glances. Though he felt bad for insinuating that the lord was a murderer, he was sure the man would survive being taken a few pegs down in the social order, if the rumors even got that far. And it was far better than leaving people wondering if Ashen might be a murderer.

“Either way, the lord claims he’s gone too far this time and that he won’t stand for it. He demanded that I take him directly to the king for ‘suitable punishment’.”

Lucas rolled his eyes and the guards seemed to commiserate. He wondered idly just how far this man’s reputation for being difficult could take him.

“Yeah, that Lord Lafayette can be a real piece of work. I wouldn’t want to be stuck on that man’s bad side, even less so if I were in his employ.” The guard shot Lucas a sympathetic look. “I just hope the king will be up to seeing you.”

Lucas felt Ellorie’s arms tighten around his neck at the guard’s words as he passed through the gates. Her breath quickened in his ear. Lucas just hoped that she would keep herself in check until they were alone.

Indeed, once they were in the relative safety of an empty courtyard, Ellorie whispered to him, sounding panicked.

“Why did he say if dad was ‘up to it’?” she said in Lucas’ ear, voice shaking. “What happened to my dad?”

“I don’t know, Ellorie,” Lucas whispered back out of the side of his mouth. “I’m sure he’s okay. We’ll ask when we get inside, alright? We’ll take care of it.”

With that, Ellorie subsided, arms loosening gradually as they made their way across the courtyard. As they neared the fountain in the center, Ellorie tugged on Lucas’ cloak.

“Lucas, what’s that? On the fountain?” she asked, thankfully still whispering. Lucas turned to look, expecting to see some drastic change to the fountain. Perhaps a meteor had fallen on it while they were gone? It would explain the excitement in Ellorie’s voice. But no, it was the same old fountain, water tinkling merrily into the basin. “I can feel something coming from there. Can we go look?”

Lucas looked around the courtyard but only saw a couple servants hurrying to and from tasks. Curiosity burning, and knowing they wouldn’t remark on his activities, he followed the princess’ wishes. Ashen grumbled behind him, not having heard the whispered exchange, but not wanting to draw attention by asking what was going on.

As they came up to the fountain, Ellorie slid off Lucas’ back and ran lightly over to the side of the fountain, where she picked up-

“Can I keep it?” she asked, face serious, looking up at Lucas. Lucas felt his eyes moisten, a wan smile picking at his lips. She held, cupped gently in her hands, a small fish made of straw with his own magic threaded through its weave. She stood there, waiting for his answer, edges fuzzy from invisibility but her expression clear.

“Of course, sweetheart. It was made for you after all, wasn’t it? I’m sure whoever made it would be honoured that you would want to keep it.” Ellorie beamed, tucking the small fish away in a pocket of her dress before clambering back up onto Lucas.

The three continued on their way, encountering no more obstacles until the door to the king’s personal office itself. There was a woman standing guard there, looking much more awake and wary than the guards at the gate.

“Halt, you there. Where do you think you’re going?”

“I’ve been instructed to bring this man straight to the king. Lord Lafayette is extremely cross and wants him dealt with directly,” Lucas said, repeating his excuse that he had used earlier on the guards to the gate. He shrugged helplessly, adopting a put-upon expression. “I would never normally bother the king with such matters, but you know the Lafayettes…”

The guard’s face immediately softened.

“Yes, I do,” she said, rolling her eyes. “We really need to do something about them, but as it is, with everything that’s been going on, I can’t really allow you in to see the king without prior notice…”

She trailed off apologetically. Lucas put on the most pathetic, hang-dog look he could manage. She held up for all of two seconds before huffing and throwing up a hand exasperatedly.

“Fine! I’ll check with the king. You stay right there.”

She slipped into the door after a quiet ‘thank you’ from Lucas and returned moments later. She looked more concerned, but resumed her station, waving them inside.

As they entered the room, Ellorie’s arms became like a vise around his throat. Looking at the king, he couldn’t blame her. He looked the king up and down as the door shut behind him, trying to breathe despite the arms pressing down on his windpipe. Lusensa had a new streak of grey in his hair that hadn’t been there a mere week ago. He looked even more gaunt, exhausted and thin, wasting away. He held himself in the rigidly, motions tight and controlled, in the posture of a man in a great deal of pain but trying not to show it. He looked up at Lucas with a tired smile.

“I hear the local lords are causing trouble,” he said, eyes traveling to Ashen who had entered behind Lucas. They widened almost comically. “You!”

“Me,” Ashen agreed, shaking off the loose handcuffs. He stretched, looking around the room. “Been a while, mate, how have you been?”

Lucas batted Ashen on the back of the head.

“Oi! What was that for?” he complained, rubbing his head where Lucas had hit him, ruffling up his hair and making it stick out in every direction.

“Shut up, you idiot,” Lucas said, then crouched down to allow Ellorie to climb off his back. His shoulders were beginning to ache and he longed to be able to breathe easily again. Ellorie resolutely remained where she was, clinging onto him, breathing quietly in his ear.

The king looked on in confusion, and Lucas was sure he’d call for his guards as soon as he had collected his wits.

“Please don’t, Your Majesty,” Lucas said quietly. “Just give her a moment.”

If anything, that seemed to baffle the king even more. Lucas addressed his next words to Ellorie, dropping his disguise as the guard at the same time.

“Come on, Princess, you can do this,” he said, tugging gently at the arms wrapped around him, encouraging her to let go and come down. When she finally did, he turned to face her. “Now, take off that ring so that your dad can see you.”

The king looked on in shock, face white and hands trembling. He watched the man he had nearly condemned to the gallows a week ago speak gently to thin air until, with no sound or flourish to accompany it, his daughter appeared before him. When he saw her, a choked sound escaped him and he rushed around the desk to scoop her up in his arms. The ring that Ellorie held in a loose grip fell with a clink to the ground. Ashen bent to retrieve it.

“Daddy,” Ellorie said, burying her face in her father’s rich red cape.

“Oh, sweetheart, oh, Ellorie,” he said, then was unable to say anymore, overwhelmed with emotion as he was. The two wept in each other’s arms, and Lucas wished he could disappear and give the two of them the time they deserved. He and Ashen shared an uncomfortable look over the father and daughter, feeling like they were intruding on an intimate moment. Eventually, Lucas cleared his throat, calling the attention of the room to him.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty, Your Highness,” he said, inclining his head first to the king and then to Ellorie, “but there are things we should discuss. I know this is an emotional moment, but unfortunately, pressing matters need to be dealt with.”

Well, if that wasn’t the understatement of the century… However, he ignored that for the moment, turning his attention to the king and looking at him with eyes hard as diamonds.

“I hope that this has proven my loyalty beyond shadow of a doubt, and we can continue on from here under the assumption that I only want the best for you, your family, and your kingdom?”

The king nodded wordlessly, humbly. He gathered Ellorie up in his arms and settled into his chair with her tucked safely against his chest. Neither seemed willing to separate from the other, and Lucas’ heart melted at seeing them. Ashen had been right earlier, when they had spoken on the ship. All his trouble, all his grief had been worth giving Ellorie her parents back. And he could never, ever give back her memories of losing them. If he’d had any doubts about that, they evaporated like dreams upon waking when he saw them together.

Lucas untied the green charm from around his wrist, placing it on the desk in front of the king. 

“Do you recognize this, Your Majesty?”

The king’s eyes went wide.

“I do.” His voice was barely a whisper. “It was… they went missing. Two of the three we had in our treasury. After you two… disappeared, Winsmouth came to tell me that he had gone to check the vaults to see if your theory had any basis. He said he went to check immediately after I sent you back to the dungeon, before you would have had a chance to take them… it had to have been her.”

“I’m afraid it was,” Lucas said gently. “We found Rheinhausen and Ellorie with these on chains around their necks. I took this one off the fraulein herself.”

Ellorie, still tucked tight against her father, pulled the necklace out from under her dress. The king looked down at his daughter, then to the charm lying on his desk, then to Lucas and Ashen standing before him. In those few moments, he seemed to age another thirty years.

“It seems that I owe you two a greater apology than I ever imagined,” Conoris said. Seeing the king so frail and uncertain took all the righteous indignation out of Lucas. He sighed, leaning on the wall near him.

“It’s alright. We know you were just trying to protect your family. However, it seems that… more events have occurred since we were last here,” Lucas said, looking at the king questioningly. “Security’s tightened, and if I may say so, Your Majesty, you’re looking a little worse for wear. I gather that the Dawn Chorus is still running around and causing trouble.”

Seeing the king as he was – drained, exhausted, in pain – Lucas was sure there had been another attempt on the king’s life. One that must have gotten much too close to being successful for anyone’s comfort. However, he was reluctant to say so in front of the princess. No matter how brave you were, it was never a simple thing to learn that your parents were mortal.

“They are,” Lusensa answered simply, seeming likewise unwilling to elaborate in front of his daughter. “In truth, I must thank you for the circumspect way you have brought Ellorie back to me. I fear what might have happened if they knew she had returned.”

Ashen flashed a triumphant grin at Lucas and hopped up to sit on the king’s desk, putting his booted feet up on the chair in front of it.

“Well, Lusensa, that was my idea. Glad you approve. Lucas here was going to bring the princess in on a silver platter, blowing trumpets to announce her return.”

The king raised an eyebrow skeptically and Lucas sighed.

“I wasn’t that bad. But yes, Ashen was responsible for our caution. That being said, if you are concerned about the Dawn Chorus, we should make a plan so that Ellorie stays safe.”

“We should,” the king agreed, and Ashen nodded as well. “I’m afraid it will just be us three in this discussion. I don’t know who on my staff I can trust right now. The latest… incident came from very close to home, not to mention what happened to my daughter.”

His arms tightened around the girl, as if to convince himself that she was back, that she was here, safe, home with him.

“Well,” Lucas said, thinking back to his first time in the palace, “Winsmouth is definitely alright, you needn’t worry about him. Other than him, Chancellor Abbeth Kelver is the only one of your staff that I’ve met that I have reason to trust.”

Relief spread through the king's face, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Hearing that Winsmouth is trustworthy is more than enough. He was the one I was most worried about, and he’s the one who can help us the most. Send the guard to call him in.”

Though he hated to waste a spell slot on it, Lucas resumed his disguise and went out of the small room to speak with the guard. He was the only choice, seeing as Ashen couldn’t exactly pop his head out of the room and order guards around, and the king was a little too busy clinging onto his only daughter that he had thought he’d lost – the one no one knew was back.

Within a few minutes of speaking with the guard, Winsmouth showed up at the office, huffing and puffing. As he entered, Lucas, back in his regular form once more, swiftly moved to block his view of the rest of the room. He knew that if the mage saw the princess with no warning, he wasn’t likely to keep his composure.

“Winsmouth, I need you to listen to me. No one outside of this room can know what is happening in here, not until we figure out what to do. I’m going to tell you this, but I need you to keep quiet about it.” At Winsmouth’s concerned nod, Lucas continued, but softer. “The princess is back, Winsmouth. I told you that I’d find her and bring her home, and I did.”

Eyes wider than normal, Winsmouth looked at Lucas in shock. Then, as Lucas moved out of the way, his gaze fell on Ellorie, wrapped up in the king’s arms, and he let out a small squawk. He quickly clapped a hand over his beak, containing his surprise and excitement, but he couldn’t stop the tears from filling his eyes.

“Oh, Princess Ellorie, I’m so glad you’re back,” he said, voice quivering with the effort of speaking quietly. He sat in the chair Ashen’s feet were currently occupying, and Ashen snatched them back with a quiet yelp. Winsmouth didn’t seem to notice. “When did this happen?”

“Oh, about five minutes ago,” Ashen said flippantly, waving a hand nonchalantly. There was a moment of silence after his words as everyone sat with that knowledge, letting it sink in, letting the relief flow through them. The princess was home .

“Unfortunately, things can’t stay the way they are.”

The king's words, said with great reluctance, froze everyone in the room. He forged onward, body language screaming in opposition to his voice as he sat with Ellorie held tight against his chest, arms wrapped around her protectively. It was almost as though he were daring someone to try and take her away.

“The Dawn Chorus is still out there. Given recent events at the castle, I don’t think it’s safe for Ellorie here, and I believe Winsmouth will agree with me there. I’m afraid it’s become barely safe enough for me to stay here. If people were to find out she was back, she’d be placed once more in harm’s way. And if she stays here… well, there would be no keeping the news a secret. Everyone would soon know of the princess’ safe return. Once word got out, she’d be vulnerable, and I would have failed in protecting my child.”

The ‘again’ went unsaid, but was all the louder for it. Ellorie, for the first time since she had latched on to her father, sat up, pulling away from him slightly. He looked at her, pain in his eyes, indecision clear on his face. She was crying, face twisted in fear.

“Daddy, I don’t want to go away again. I want to stay here with you and Mom. Please don’t send me away.”

A thousand emotions flickered across the king’s face. For a moment, Lucas thought he would cave to Ellorie’s request, but when he answered her, grief was clear in his voice. He looked to be in agony, as though his heart was tearing its way out of its ribcage at the answer he had for her.

“Love, I’m so sorry, but it’s just not safe enough here, and Mom is-“ he cut off, not knowing what to say.

“Princess, I’m afraid your mother has taken ill, and your father has had to take on her work as well, for the time being,” Winsmouth cut in smoothly, breaking the news as gently as he could. Lucas would bet an arm and a leg that the queen hadn’t simply ‘taken ill’ and had, in fact, been injured in the same assassination attempt that had caused the king to look so haggard now. “I’m afraid your father might be right, Your Highness. It is not a good time to announce your return.

“Where will I go?” Ellorie asked, voice small, tugging at Lucas’ heartstrings.

The king looked at Lucas and Ashen in askance.

“You two have brought my daughter home to me. You’re the only two I can trust with her safety right now, outside of the palace. Would you take her and protect her as though she were your own?”

Ashen and Lucas exchanged a glance, but before they could answer, Winsmouth spoke.

“Your Majesty, might I remind you that the cult is still running amok in the kingdom. They must be dealt with, and dealt with quick and quiet. If you trust these men, might not one of them hunt down the leaders of the Dawn Chorus while the other protects Ellorie?”

Ashen slid off the desk, responsibility settling over his shoulders like a well-fitting cloak. Lucas found his eyes drawn to him, unable to look away.

“I have contacts who might be able to help me find the people you’re looking for. I’ll stay here, get rid of as many of those bastards as I possibly can.”

“And Ellorie can travel with me,” Lucas said, feeling the weight of the safety of the young girl settle on him.

“And you will protect her as though she were your own flesh and blood?” The king’s eyes were piercing, drilling a hole straight into Lucas’ soul. He felt the stare like a physical weight, finding it difficult to draw breath with it pressing on him.

“I swear it,” he said through the lump in his throat. The words relieved some of the pressure, knowing, as he did, how true they were. He would protect her as though she were his own. He had once and he would again. As long as his- as long as Ellorie needed him, he would be there for her. “Is there a way you can contact me, to let me know when it’s safe to bring her back?”

“Yes,” Winsmouth answered confidently, though it did little to reassure Lucas. The thought of bringing her back, never to see her again… well, it set a stone in his stomach, one he knew would take a long time to dislodge. “I have the sending spell, I should be able to send you a message when it’s safe. It will all depend on how fast Ashen here can work.”

Ashen turned to Lucas, and Lucas could see the thoughts and emotions racing through Ashen’s warm brown eyes, too fast to catch. He took a few steps closer, blocking out the rest of the room with his nearness, giving them some semblance of privacy.

“Lucas, I… I don’t want to leave you. Not again.” There was genuine pain in the rogue’s voice, catching Lucas by surprise. He swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to surface.

“Ashen, you don’t even remember the first time,” he said, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted. And yet, he couldn’t help the catch in his own voice.

“Even so,” Ashen responded seriously, taking another step closer. It would have been suffocatingly close, if Lucas had been able to catch his breath at all. Ashen caught Lucas’ hand, brushing a thumb across his knuckles. “Promise me that when it’s all over, when it’s safe to come back, promise me that you’ll find me. When you finish with your quest, whether it ends well or… or not, promise me you’ll come back to me.”

“I promise,” Lucas whispered, unable to do or say anything else while lost in Ashen’s eyes. Then, somehow, he tore himself away, knowing that if he didn’t, he’d never leave. He took a few steps back, putting a safe distance between them. His hand felt cold and empty, Ashen’s still stretched out as though to claim it once more.

“My king, with your leave?” Lucas asked, looking at the king once more. His heart was thrumming, nerves vibrating, all his focus on the man standing next to him. The man who was looking more and more like his Ashen every day, but who still. Wasn’t. Him.

The king nodded, gently setting Ellorie on her feet and kneeling in front of her. Tears streamed silently down her face, giving a heartwrenching harmony to the solemn silence hovering just out of reach. It was a silence Lucas had never heard and a silence he never wanted to hear again. She sniffed, wiping her nose with her sleeve. The expression on Conoris’ face went beyond pain. Beyond anguish. He pulled a handkerchief out of a pocket and wiped her tears. Then he pressed the square of cloth into her small hand. 

“There. Now, no matter where you go, I’ll always be with you. I’ll see you soon, sweetheart, I promise,” he said, giving her one last hug. He looked up at Ashen and Lucas. “Would you mind playing out your ruse to the end? Ashen, if you wouldn’t mind being locked up one more time, I’ll come release you later today with some ‘punishment’ that will send you out of the city. From there, you can do what you will, and Winsmouth will check in on you from time to time. I would also appreciate reports from you in person whenever you can manage it. Lucas, you can take Ellorie with you on your way out of the city. Can you keep her invisible until you leave?”

Lucas turned to look at Ashen questioningly. Ashen met his gaze unblinking, fire blazing in his eyes.

“Take my ring,” he said, catching Lucas’ hand once more and placing the smooth, unadorned band in it. “It’s yours until we meet again.”