Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I think I’m ready to tell you,” Fabian said.

He glanced at Riz, who had been curled up on the bed next to him and now looked up with wide eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Riz said carefully, scooting himself next to Fabian and resting his head on his shoulder. “I can wait. Like I said, I—”

“—trust me, yeah, I know. But I want to tell you, and I think I’m ready now.”

Riz smiled. “Okay.”

Fabian let out a long breath. “Okay, well… it’s kind of a long story. Like a very, very long story.”

Riz stared at him expectantly.

“I guess I’ll start at the beginning.” Fabian leaned back and settled in. “My name’s Fabian Seacaster.”

Riz snorted and thwacked Fabian with his tail. “Be serious.”

“I am serious! My name’s Fabian Seacaster, and I’m nineteen years old. And I guess this story begins… one ordinary day, long, long ago.”

- - -

“Fabian, you can’t skip school again, you just can’t ,” Mazey pleaded. The twelve-year-old minotaur resisted as her eleven-year-old half-elf friend pulled at her. “If the teacher finds out, he’s going to expel you! He’s going to be so disappointed in me if you don’t come with me right now!”

Fabian ignored her protests and pulled harder. “Come on , Mazey, I just want to see the toy shop! They have the new model ships today!”

“Who cares about model ships?” Mazey tugged with remarkable strength for her age back at Fabian, causing him to stumble for just a moment. “I’m trying to save our butts!”

“We’re not learning anything interesting at school, anyway! Come on, my mom gave me some money this morning.”

“ Lunch money!” she retorted. “And why do you have to drag me along, then?”

Fabian huffed and let go of her arm. “Fine! You don’t have to come!”

Mazey frowned as she rubbed at her wrist. “Please don’t ditch school.”

“I’m ditching! You can’t stop me!” He walked backwards down the sidewalk.

“Fabian!”

“Bye!” He waved a bundle of gold pieces in the air and took off running toward the toy shop down the street.

- - -

Just a few hours later, Mazey was accompanying him back to his house.

“I told you it was a bad idea,” she muttered.

“Hey, I didn’t know they would be so expensive! Or that the stupid old dude at the counter would think to call the school!”

“You’re eleven, Fabian, of course he thought it was weird that you were out of school!”

Fabian pouted. “Whatever. Come on, I’ll bet my papa’s got some really sick stuff we could sell for more gold!”

“Fabian, no !”

She chased him all the way back to Seacaster Manor. As usual, the house was essentially empty as Fabian bounded up the stairs in excitement. Mazey trailed behind with uncertainty as he snuck his way into his father’s quarters.

“This is a stupid idea, Fabian,” she hissed under her breath.

“So don’t follow me!” he whispered back.

She crossed her arms. “I’m staying out here.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

He carefully made his way into the room, immediately scurrying around and opening doors, drawers, cabinets, closets, searching for secret compartments where there could possibly be some treasures. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very good at finding secret compartments. He huffed when he came up with nothing of value, throwing aside a cheap-looking ring and about to give up when he heard it thunk against the blankets behind him.

He turned around. That was weird. Blankets don’t thunk . Sure enough, upon investigating, he found a strange-looking lump underneath the sheets. Carefully, he pulled aside the blanket.

On the mattress lay an ornate-looking arquebus, glowing and pulsing with arcane energy. Fabian’s eyes widened. Now this was worth something. He slowly reached out to pick it up.

The moment he touched it, he promptly blacked out.

- - -

Fabian had no idea what just happened. One moment, he was carefully reaching towards the mysterious gun, and the next, he had been pulled out of consciousness and into a strange bluish void. He looked around.

“Hello?” he called out cautiously. “Anyone there?”

Silence. Then, from behind him:

“Can you… hear me?”

He whirled around.

A handsome goblin man with a thin mustache faced him, wearing a sharp suit and clutching an arquebus identical to the one Fabian just touched. His brows were furrowed and his face suspicious as his hand tightened around the gun which was, thankfully, not pointed at Fabian.

Fabian yelped and stumbled backwards. “Um. Hi.”

The man’s hand relaxed just a bit. “Oh. You’re just a kid.”

“Uh. Yeah.” Fabian looked around. “Who are you? What is this place?”

“I don’t know where we are,” the man said slowly, “but you shouldn’t be here. Unless… you’re also… dead.”

Fabian flinched. “Um, what? No. I’m not dead. I don’t think.” Then his eyes widened with panic. “Wait, am I dead? Did I just die? Did touching that stupid gun kill me?!”

“Okay, wait, no, no, I think you’d remember if you were… I don’t think you’re dead,” the man quickly assured Fabian. “For one, you don’t have… well, these.”

He gestured behind him, and Fabian did a double take. He hadn’t noticed the man’s feathered angel wings and glowing halo. Now that he took a closer look, he definitely had sort of a translucent ethereal glow.

“Wait, so… are you dead?” Fabian asked slowly.

The man smiled softly. “Yeah. I am.” He held out a hand. “Pok. Nice to meet you.”

Fabian slowly reached out to shake it, but his hand went right through Pok’s. The man just shook his head and sighed like he expected that. “Uh, I’m Fabian. Fabian Aramais Seacaster.”

Pok nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting.”

“Okay, wait, so… you’re dead? Like, full-dead?”

“Full-dead,” Pok confirmed, a little wistfully.

“Then… why am I here?”

Pok hesitated. “Not sure. You mentioned touching a gun?” He lifted his arquebus. “Did it look something like this?”

Fabian nodded quickly. “Yeah. Is it— was it yours?”

“Yes, it was. Fascinating.” Pok seemed to be thinking a mile a minute, his words speeding up. “Someone must have recovered it. I think my soul was tied to it.”

“Tied to it?”

“Yes, but… if you touched it… and I’m seeing you now, I think that means something. Some kind of possession.”

Fabian’s eyes widened. “You’re possessing me?”

“No, no, nothing like that, just… I put a complicated spell on my arquebus a while back. It was supposed to stop my enemies from taking it and to send a message to my loved ones after I died. But… I don’t think it worked properly since—and don’t take this in offense—you’re clearly not either of those.”

“Okay…?”

“Interesting.” Pok stepped forward. “Okay. You need to wake up.”

“Uh—what?”

“Wake up,” Pok repeated, “and you’ll be able to see me, got it?”

“I—okay. How?”

He smiled. “Like this.” 

He reached forward, hovering his incorporeal hands over Fabian’s shoulders, and wrapped his wings around him. Everything became blindingly white.

- - -

Fabian gasped back to consciousness in his own bed, Mazey and his father standing next to him. 

“He’s awake!” Mazey grabbed Fabian’s shoulders and shook him. “Fabian, I told you that was a stupid idea.”

“What? What happened?” Fabian looked around, then froze when he caught sight of the figure standing at the foot of his bed. The goblin-angel-man from his dream stood there, grinning.

Fabian yelped out loud and scrambled back in bed.

“Hey,” the angel said in greeting.

“Fabian, what are you looking at?” asked Mazey in confusion.

“I-I— um—” Fabian looked from Mazey to his father to Pok in conclusion. “What— you— you can’t see him?” He gestured wildly at the foot of his bed. Mazey glanced over and turned back to Fabian, clearly bewildered.

Bill Seacaster just laughed heartily. “Now, what are you on about, me boy?”

“I— but— he’s—”

“You’re the only one who can see me,” Pok said gently.

“Who are you?” Fabian demanded.

“Who are you talking to?” Mazey asked.

Bill tsk ed while he shook his head, waving his finger at Fabian. “If this is some way of skipping out on school again, my darling boy, I’m afraid—”

“I’m not lying!” Fabian flopped back onto the bed. Pok sighed and floated next to him.

“They’re not going to believe you.”

“Come on, boy. Up on your feet, now.” Bill hoisted Fabian up. “This fine young lassie found you collapsed on the floor in my quarters! Now whatever were you doing there?”

Fabian glanced apprehensively at Pok before turning back to Bill. “Nothing, papa.”

Bill narrowed his eye at Fabian for a moment before shrugging. “Very well. You may go now… what was your name again?”

“Mazey,” Mazey said quietly. “Captain Seacaster, is Fabian okay?”

“I’m fine,” Fabian snapped, shooting Pok a glare. The goblin simply shrugged at him with a light smile. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You hear that, lass? The boy is fine!” Bill laughed and clapped Fabian on the back.

- - -

Fabian finally got time alone with Pok after a light-hearted berating from his father and an airy acknowledgement from his mother. “Okay, so… again, who exactly are you?”

Pok smiled, leaning back as if he were sitting in a chair rather than floating in midair. “Like I said, I’m Pok.” He twirled a finger towards Fabian’s chest. “I live in your heart now.”

“And why are you a ghost no one but me can see that has to stick with me at all times?”

Pok shrugged. “The spell on my arquebus went wrong, I suppose. And I’m not a ghost.”

“Sure. You’re a dead, spectral figure, but not a ghost.”

Pok scoffed.

“So… why’d you have a curse on your gun?” asked Fabian.

Pok shrugged. “Reasons. Professional adventuring—anything can happen. I wanted to know my family would be okay after my death, but… I don’t actually know how well that worked out.”

Fabian blinked. “Professional what now?”

“An adventurer? Someone who, on a basic level, goes on adventures: solving mysteries, fighting battles forming an adventuring party. You know?”

“Kind of.” Fabian knew of the term from his father’s adventures. But… “Professional? So like, you get money out of it?”

Pok raised a dark eyebrow at Fabian. “I suppose so.”

Fabian’s eyes brightened. “Can I become a professional adventurer?”

With a smirk, Pok said, “It’s not for everyone, you know. You have to be skilled, intelligent, agile, tough.”

“I’m all of those things!” Fabian insisted. “I’m Fabian Seacaster, son of Bill Seacaster—of course I am!”

Pok laughed. “Kid, you’ve got spirit. Fabian, you said?”

Fabian grinned. “Yup.”

“I like you, Fabian. How about this—I’ll show you the way to a battle ring, and you can give it a go. All great adventurers start out with a few battles here and there.”

“Wait, really?” Fabian sat up straight. “You’d do that?”

“Hey, I’m stuck with you. What else am I going to do?”

Fabian practically bounced in his seat. “Awesome! Show the way!”

- - -

On the way to the ring, Pok explained the details of ranked battling. “It’s a staple of the path of professional adventuring. Those who want to become professionals take part in battles throughout their education. A set of grading battles—tournaments, competitions, bracket systems—take part each year, and adventurers get ranked. There’s all sorts of battling styles—one-on-one, triads, and full-party battles.”

The talk was fascinating, but the details were soon forgotten as Fabian stepped into the battle ring—the room was overwhelming. Rental weapons lined an entire wall, a huge fighting ring was set up in the center, and training gyms were to the right. Crammed in a corner was a self-proclaimed check-in desk. 

“I used to take my son here to watch the fights,” Pok said wistfully. “It’d been a while since we’d gone to one when I died though. I wonder how long it’s been.”

Fabian looked at Pok sympathetically. “You don’t know when you died?”

Pok shook his head, frowning. “No. It can’t have been too long ago—Elmville doesn’t look too different. But… I didn’t know many people here, and time is difficult when you’re… y’know. Dead.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” Pok shrugged. “I’ve come to terms with my death. I just miss the world I came from.” Then he gestured to the desk. “Let’s check in.”

Fabian nodded and approached the desk, where a young woman sat, scrolling on her crystal. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”

The woman looked up and put down her crystal. “Hi, kid. What’s up?”

Fabian glanced as inconspicuously as possible at Pok, who said, “Ask if you can watch a fight, or maybe get paired with another kid. There might not be many other young folk here, but you can certainly try.”

Fabian nodded slightly. “Um, hi, I was wondering if it was okay for me to watch a fight? Or get a partner? Maybe?”

The woman clicked a pen and held up a sign-in sheet. “No problem. Fill out your name and score for me, will you?”

“Um…” He turned to Pok again.

“What’s up?” asked the woman.

“My… score?”

The woman raised her eyebrows. “You don’t have a score?”

“I don’t know what that is,” Fabian confessed.

“It’s a kind of ranking system for when you’ve been in some fights,” Pok quickly explains. “You don’t have one yet since you haven’t competed anywhere before.”

The woman at the desk seemed to have caught on, because she said, “New to the battle scene?”

Fabian nodded sheepishly.

“That’s alright. Why don’t we get you set up to watch?”

“Okay.” He didn’t really know what else to say. He glanced around the room while the woman turned to her laptop and began clicking something on her keyboard. Then, he noticed, a few feet away, a small, unmistakably child-like figure wearing a fencing mask and clutching a rapier.

“Hey,” he said, “that’s a kid, right? Can I fight him?”

The woman looked up and glanced in the direction he was pointing. “Oh,” she said. “Um… that’s…”

“Please? I really want to try fighting,” he said.

The woman chewed on her lip for a moment before shrugging. “Sure, kid. Suit yourself. Go rent out a weapon.” She leaned back in her seat, grabbing her crystal again. “It’s your funeral.”

Fabian cheered and turned to Pok as he ran towards the rental wall. “Did I do good?”

Pok laughed. “Let’s get you suited to a weapon first. You ever do any kind of fighting training before?”

Fabian scanned the wall. “I do fencing with an instructor.”

“Perfect. Think you can handle a rapier?”

“Seriously?” Fabian grinned in excitement. “Awesome!” 

With Pok and the rental worker’s help, Fabian got suited up with a rapier that fit him well. “Rental isn’t great, but maybe in the future you can invest in getting yourself some weapons if you end up really liking battling.”

Fabian tested the weight of the blade. “Huh.”

“Go ahead and see if you can challenge that kid,” Pok instructed him, pointing Fabian in the direction of the still-masked figure.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it.” Fabian waved a dismissive hand in Pok’s direction as he ran towards the other kid. Pok scoffed and shook his head as he followed along.

Fabian skidded to a stop when he came up next to the kid. “Hey! I’m Fabian, want to spar?”

The masked kid turned towards him. “Sorry?” he asked, voice muffled.

“Want to spar?” he repeated, holding up his rapier excitedly. 

The other kid was silent for a moment, then turned away. “I’m okay.”

Fabian dropped his arm in disappointment. “Please?” He glanced up at Pok. “Help me out a bit here?” he whispered.

Pok gave the kid a once over. “I need to get a read on their skill level first. You think you’re up for the fight? I’ll give you pointers while you go. As long as you listen to what I say, you should be able to get this done pretty quick and easy. 

Fabian brightened. “Really? That’s cool.” He turned back to the kid. “ Please ? It would be really fun?”

“I’m not really here to fight,” the kid said. “Sorry.”

Fabian frowned. “Then why are you here with weapons?” He gestured to the kid’s rapier. 

The kid let out a long sigh, then turned back to Fabian. “Okay. Fine. Let’s fight. Are you any good?”

Fabian glanced at Pok. “I’m… I guess we’ll see.”

They sighed again, shrugged, then stood up. “Fine. Let’s do this.” They twirled their blade as they stood up, nodded awkwardly at Fabian, and gestured towards an open arena. As they trailed ahead, Fabian hung back to talk to Pok.

“So… what exactly? You’re going to help me?”

“I mean, I could also just possess you. Could be fun. It’s been a while since I’ve done a spar. But for this one, I think you should try it out yourself.”

Fabian squeezed his rapier nervously. “You sure?”

“I’ll guide you every step of the way,” Pok assured him firmly.

Fabian nodded. They’d reached the arena. Fabian carefully stepped in.

“Classic one v one rules?” the masked kid asked. Now that they were standing up, Fabian noticed a thin green tail swishing behind them restlessly.

“Say yes,” Pok said.

“U-uh, yeah. Sure.” 

“Okay.” They circled the arena before finding a suitable spot. Pok guided Fabian to a spot opposite them. 

“No official timer, so we start on three. You want to count down or should I?”

“Let them do it.”

“You can— you can count,” Fabian stammered. The kid nodded and took a low stance, bouncing slightly. Fabian awkwardly stood with his sword over his shoulder.

Pok flew over to Fabian’s arm and frowned. “You look like a street brawler, kid, loosen up, or you’ll get knocked on your ass.”

“Three…”

“What? What am I supposed to do?”

“Two…”

“Feet apart. Bring your arms down, this isn’t gashbat. Relax. Sword higher. Good.”

Fabian hurriedly rushed to make the corrections.

“One.”

“Parry!” Pok said immediately, and Fabian did just that just in time to deflect his opponent’s first attack. He breathed out a sigh of relief but was quickly humbled when the masked kid recovered quickly, darted to the side, and landed a tap to his ribcage. Fabian yelped as he ducked aside. 

“Pay attention,” Pok said in his ear.

“I’m trying ,” Fabian muttered, dodging another hit. “They’re fast .”

“Yes, they’re quite skilled, actually. Parry.”

The fight played out slowly at first, Fabian clumsily blocking and countering under Pok’s instruction. However, the kid soon seemed to get a grasp of Fabian’s style and began speeding things up.

“You got it,” Pok said encouragingly, as Fabian successfully avoided falling for a feint and landed a tap to the kid’s shoulder. “I’m going to control your body just a little bit, okay?”

Before Fabian could question what just a little bit even meant, he could feel small corrections being made to his stance. Immediately, he felt himself moving far more fluidly. Though he was mostly still in control, he suddenly wasn’t stumbling over his own feet anymore.

The kid was fast . They darted around and feinted so quickly that Fabian found it difficult to keep up, but under Pok’s guidance, not a single attack hit. He felt a thrill of excitement go through as he parried yet another strike.

“They’re going to lunge left next,” Pok whispered. “Ready yourself.” 

Pok’s prediction struck true—Fabian dodged to the right just in time to use his opponent’s momentum against them. 

“It’s open. Get the chest.”

Fabian obediently tapped the kid’s chest—a fatal area, had he actually stabbed—and they froze.

“Excellent,” Pok said proudly. “Nice work.”

“Did I win?” he asked under his breath.

“Yes. In preteen rules, all you have to do is land a fatal tap.” Pok grinned. “The older divisions get far bloodier.

Fabian didn’t really know what that meant or if he wanted to know. He withdrew his sword and held out a hand to shake the other kid’s. He at least knew etiquette, if not fighting techniques.

The kid seemed surprised as they slowly took his hand. “You’re good .” Their voice was awed, but seemed tinged with confusion.

Fabian smirked smugly. “Guess it’s just natural talent.”

They tilted their head curiously. “What’s your score?”

Fabian shrugged. “Dunno.”

“You don’t know your score?”

“I’ve never really fought before,” he confessed.

The kid’s hand went slack in his. “You’ve never fought before?”

Fabian withdrew his hand. “Um… yeah?”

They were silent for a long moment. Then, much, much colder: “Again.”

Fabian tensed. “What?”

“I want to go again. There’s no way.”

A small crowd had gathered around the arena to watch now. Fabian looked around nervously. “Um…”

“I challenge you to a rematch.” 

Fabian was kind of glad the kid wore a mask, because based on their tone, he could just feel the eyes shooting daggers at him. “Some help here?” he asked Pok quietly.

Pok was staring at the kid contemplatively. “Their fighting style seems familiar,” Pok mused. “Feints, trickery, light on their feet.” He turned to Fabian. “Do you want to go again? If not, I could also just full-control your body. It would be a pretty nice learning experience for you, too.”

“Could you really?” 

The angel shrugged. “I think I could. I’d like to try fighting this kid. Something about them… it would be nice to feel alive again.

Fabian glanced over at his opponent, still waiting expectantly.

“Okay,” he relented. “I’ll fight you.” He tried to ignore the whispers that erupted from the quickly growing crowd around the arena.

The kid nodded, then readied his stance. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” Pok said.

“I’m good,” Fabian whispered.

The following sensation was possibly the weirdest Fabian had ever felt in his life. It was difficult for him to put into words, but it was as if something was pulling at the pit of its stomach, pulling it up and out, and then very forcibly pulling it back in like an elastic band that snapped. He doubled over for a moment, then when he straightened, he was no longer in his own body.

The kid was counting down. “Three… two… one.”

And just like that, Fabian felt his body jerk out from beneath him, and suddenly, all he could do was watch.

His opponent charged in immediately, rapier flashing and catching the light, but Pok was faster—Fabian felt himself effortlessly sidestep. The kid tried again, a feint and then a slash, but Fabian parried, then countered with a blow to the ribs. They stumbled back. 

The crowd was murmuring now, but the fight wasn’t anywhere near over.

The kid, still fast as hell, threw everything at Fabian—feints, dodges, thrusts—too quickly for Fabian to keep up. Clearly, though, Pok had no trouble. He blocked each attempt with almost no effort. Then, he switched to the offensive, and that’s when things truly heated up.

Each blow was precise, almost deadly, just enough to overwhelm but not far enough to hit. The kid grunted as they began to lose their touch, stumbling back with each dodge and parry they tossed out. 

Fabian felt himself slam the rapier against his opponent’s arm, knocking the blade clean out of their hands, knocking the kid to the ground. They reached out, desperately trying to grab the hilt, but Fabian’s boot came down on their wrist.

He tapped the lethal spot, and the small child’s body went limp.

Chapter Text

The room was silent for a long moment.

Then a tingly feeling began to run through Fabian’s body, as if spreading from his heart to his limbs to his head. Suddenly, he felt himself able to move again. He stumbled back, ears ringing, hands shaking, body thrumming. “Whoa,” he murmured under his breath.

Slowly, the masked kid began to sit up.

Fabian quickly stepped back toward them, reaching out a hand. “Hey— you okay?”

They were still for a moment, ignoring Fabian’s hand. Then, their shoulders began to shake. A small, muffled choked sound escapes from behind the mask.

“A-are you crying?” Fabian knelt down. “I-I’m sorry.”

Pok materialized behind him, looking sobered. “Is he—”

The kid grabbed at their mask, pulled it off, and began full-on sobbing.

Fabian bit his lip and ignored Pok’s sharp gasp from behind him. “H-hey, hey, I’m sorry—”

The kid looked up, and Fabian took in the face of his opponent for the first time. It was that of a small goblin boy, huge feline-like yellowish eyes, with drooped ears and curly dark green hair. Freckles were scattered across the bridge of his nose. Fabian felt himself freeze for a second at the way his eyes were clearly filled with tears.

“Go away,” he said softly.

“I’m really s—”

“Go away!” he yelled, loud, wild, feral this time. Fabian flinched away when the little goblin bared his fangs.

“I’m… sorry,” he said again, really unsure of what else he could possibly say. He began to back away. Then he stopped. “What’s your name?”

The kid was silent for a moment, save for his sniffles. Then, so softly Fabian almost missed it:

“M’name’s Riz.”

“Riz, got it.” Fabian stopped for a moment longer, swaying at the spot, before quickly running back and taking off his wristwatch. It was expensive, leather and gold, far too expensive for anything that should be given to an eleven-year-old boy, but the Seacasters were an opulent family. He gently put it in the boy’s lap.

“This is… the most valuable thing I own right now,” Fabian said quietly. “I hope you— I— here, just take it.”

Riz didn’t move. Fabian slowly backed away.

“I’m sorry. I’ll go now.”

He turned on his heel and ran out of the battle ring.

- - -

Once Fabian had stormed out of the dojo, he whirled around to the angel. 

“What— what happened? Did you see that kid? He was crying so hard!” Fabian felt tears begin to spring to his own eyes, and quickly wiped them away. “I— it was kind of fun the first time, but— but he was— he—”

Fabian cut himself off. He couldn’t even begin to articulate the weird clenching feeling he’d felt, like a fist closing over his heart, when he saw the devastated face of the little boy.

Pok was looking pale, out of it. He turned to Fabian. “Fabian, I—”

Fabian interrupted. “That was… I hate that. I don’t want to do that again. That was really, really bad.”

“Fabian—”

“I don’t need to be a professional adventurer. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“F—”

“Go away! Leave me alone!” Fabian shouted, cutting off Pok’s words. He didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want to hear it at all.

He didn’t know why this one stranger’s tears hurt so much, but they did.

Pok went silent and watched Fabian for a few moments. Fabian could feel his eyes burning. He wanted to cry, but not in front of Pok. Not in front of anybody.

“Go away,” he said, echoing Riz’s words to him just a few moments prior. “Please.”

Something unreadable crossed Pok’s face. An agonizing silence followed before Pok finally said quietly, “As you wish.”

The angel disappeared, and the tears began to flow.

Little did Fabian know, he wouldn’t see Pok again for a very long time.

- - -

Sandra Lynn Faeth did not anticipate having to deal with so many crying kids today.

She had arrived at her shift for the receptionist table at the battle ring early and settled in for a day like any other. Riz, the talented little kid that often frequented with his dad, showed up as usual. Then, surprisingly enough, another little boy—one who didn’t even know his score, no less—showed up, eager to fight and singling out the only other child at the arena right away. Sandra Lynn hadn’t stopped him—sure, Riz was strong enough to beat pretty much any other kid his age, but it wasn’t really Sandra Lynn’s business to stop him.

What she did not expect when the new kid, about an hour later, ran out of the ring crying, was to glance over at the arena, only to see Elmville Battle Dojo’s newest child prodigy sitting in the middle, a puddle of tears.

She’d grown to like this kid, so she set up a sign at the desk and went over to investigate.

Turns out, this random child from who-knows-where absolutely beat the shit out of the poor boy, who wasn’t used to losing at all.

“He said he’d never battled anyone before, though,” Riz had said wetly. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

She spent the rest of that day comforting the boy until his mother came to pick him up. Strangely, she didn’t see him come back in for the rest of the week. Or the rest of the month. Or at all the following summer.

She didn’t see Riz again at the battle ring, not even years later after she’d quit.

The other kid, however, she grew to know from the stories that would be whispered. Fabian Seacaster, newest one-hit-wonder child prodigy that defeated Riz Gukgak in a one v one first try, then never appeared again.

She didn’t particularly know what to make of it.

Chapter Text

Six Years Later

“Fabian!”

Fabian turned around and stopped walked backwards, waiting for Mazey to run up and fall in step next to him. “Hey, Mazey. What’s got you looking so worried?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Come on, Fabian, you know what you’ve done. Everyone was talking about it, I swear to the gods. Oh my gods, Mazey, did you hear what Fabian did now? Mazey, you’ve got to come save him, he’s done it now! Mazey, he’s done something real stupid this time! ” She smacked him on the shoulder with a rolled-up piece of paper.

Fabian blinked at her innocently. “But whatever could you be speaking of?”

She grabbed him tightly by the wrist and he yelped in pain. “You fucking planted a cucumber at school? How— how did you even do that?”

Fabian grinned. “Oh, so you’ve heard.” He pulled out said cucumber from his pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it and glared at him. “A good farmer does not reveal his secrets so easily. How’d people at your school hear, anyway?”

“Gossip travels fast. It seems I can’t escape trying to save you from your own antics even know that we don’t go to the same school.” She nudged his shoulder with hers, and he shoved back playfully.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. How’s Aguefort?”

Mazey crunched into the cucumber. “Good.”

They were quiet for a moment.

“I still think—”

“Don’t start, Mazey,” Fabian groaned. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“I’m just saying, you’re so weird about adventuring. You go to a battle one time when you’re eleven, you beat one of the most well-known youth adventurers in Elmville to tears , and then you swear it off for six years?” She took another bite. “It’s weird.”

“You’ve been talking to me about this for years ,” Fabian muttered. “You have to stop. I just don’t want to do it, that’s all.”

Mazey opened her mouth like she wanted to say something else, but was interrupted when a door to a nearby classroom—Mazey was picking Fabian up at his school as usual—flew open as a very familiar blonde elf stumbled out, falling onto the floor.

Fabian rushed forward. “Whoa! Adaine! You okay?!”

Adaine Abernant looked up, a hand in her hair and her papers scattered all around her. Her blue eyes were narrowed in anger.

“Yes, I’m fine ,” she said, fuming. “It’s just those guys .”

She gestured towards the classroom, and Fabian looked up and resisted the urge to groan.

Figueroth Faeth leaned against the doorframe. She waved a gloved hand at Fabian.

“Well, well, well,” she said, a laugh in her voice. “What do we have here?”

“Fig,” Fabian muttered, helping Adaine up.

“You two are friends?” she asked, pointing a finger from Fabian to Adaine. “Huh. That explains some things.”

Adaine stood up, pushed Fabian aside, and stomped back up to Fig. “The school told me I could have this room for the adventuring club! Back off!”

Fig looked behind her at her posse of punk rock teenagers, then turned back to Adaine with a smirk. “I’m sorry, but my band’s not giving way to your nerd club.”

“Adventuring isn’t even nerd stuff!” Adaine snapped. “Why do you have to take this room? There are so many other rooms!” 

“Aw, because it’s funny!” She glanced at Fabian. “Although I didn’t know you were friends with pretty boy Seacaster here.”

Fabian stepped up next to Adaine protectively. Mazey stepped up to Adaine’s other side, having picked Adaine’s papers up off the ground and tucked them neatly into her bookbag.

“Fig, I don’t know what’s up with you this time, but could you please stop bothering Adaine?” Fabian insisted. “It’s getting old.”

Fig gave him a once-over. “You also defending the adventuring club? Surprising, given your history.”

Fabian’s face heated up. “You know about that?”

“I know you beat Riz Gukgak.” Fig backed away from the door and hopped up onto a desk, crossing her legs. “Impressive.”

Fabian looked away. “That was just one time when I was eleven.”

“Still, barely anyone beats that kid.” She rested her chin on her palm. “Hey, tell ya what?” She pointed at Fabian. “You, me—a spar. Classic one v one rules. What do you say?”

Adaine and Mazey both turned to Fabian. Fabian felt his blush deepen.

“I, uh…” 

“Meet by Lake Shimmerstone tomorrow at the end of school. I’ll give you ten minutes to show up. You and you only. If you win, blondie here gets her club room back.” Fig smirked. “Unless you’re too chicken.”

Fabian swallowed. How did he get himself into these messes? He glanced at Adaine, whose eyes looked so hopeful.

You’re not a true adventurer , he reminded himself. That win was just a fluke.

“I can’t,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

- - -

“Adaine. Adaine, come on.” Fabian rushed to catch up with Adaine’s quick, angry strides.

Adaine abruptly stopped and whirled around. “What the fuck, Seacaster?”

Fabian spluttered. “Adaine, look, I— I can’t . I can’t fight her.”

Adaine put her hands on her hips. “Why not?”

Fabian looked away. “I just…”

“Fabian, I don’t get you.” She jabbed a finger towards his chest. “You beat possibly one of the greatest fighters of your time. You have so much potential. And it’s fine that you don’t want to use it—your loss—but you can’t even consider helping out a friend in need? Are you so fucking obsessed with your ego that you can’t just fight to save my club?”

Fabian didn’t know how to explain to her that it wasn’t him . “I’m not that person anymore, Adaine, I’m sorry. I couldn’t save the club even if I tried.”

Adaine stared at him for a moment. Then she blinked and turned away. “I wish you would at least try.”

Fabian watched her walk away helplessly.

- - -

“That was really mean of you, you know.”

Fabian tsk ed and slammed the fridge shut. “Will everyone get off my back about that?”

Mazey looked hurt as she sat at Fabian’s kitchen counter. “I’m just saying. Adaine really needed you there.”

“You guys don’t get it. I can’t fight her. When I beat Riz… that was… that was a mistake. It wasn’t… I can’t do that again. I’m not that person.”

“How would you know? You haven’t picked up a sword except to look pretty since since you were eleven.”

“I just know , okay?” Fabian collapsed onto the chair next to her.

“Couldn’t you at least try to fight her? At least if you lose, it’s not her fault.”

“Why can’t Adaine just fight her herself?” Fabian muttered.

“Fig refuses to fight anyone but you,” Mazey reminded him.

He frowned, playing with an orange in his hands. “Why?”

Mazey shrugged. “How would I know? But if you ask me, I bet it has something to do with Riz.”

Fabian began to peel the orange, contemplating this. Mazey sighed and nudged his shoulder again. 

“Come on. Try it for Adaine. She’s your friend, and it would mean the world to her if you would just do her this one favor.”

Fabian stared at the orange peels and thought about a glowing arquebus up in his bedroom that was still stuffed under the bed. He’d put it there after going back to his father’s room and making sure no one would sell it or take it apart or something. It was hidden under a loose floorboard.

He would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it all this time. But never once had he succumbed to the temptation and looked at it—touched it—again.

Try it for Adaine.

She needs you.

I wish you would at least try.

Fabian turned away. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Mazey looked up. “Really?”

Fabian avoided her gaze. “Yeah.”

Gods damn it, he was going to have to put his money where his mouth was.

- - -

Adaine chewed her fingernails and checked her watch. Nearby, Fig clicked her tongue.

“Your friend’s got three more minutes to arrive. Think he’ll make it?”

Adaine glared at her. “He’ll come. I know it.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Fig leaned back in her seat and kicked her feet up onto the table. “He looked pretty adamant about throwing you under the bus yesterday.

Adaine refused to answer, keeping her eyes trained on the distance, hoping against hope that Fabian would arrive.

Next to her, Mazey gripped her hand. “He told me he would come yesterday. If he goes back on his word, I swear, that boy…” 

“Two minutes,” Fig drawled.

“Oh, be quiet,” Adaine snapped.

Fig raised her hands in surrender. “Touchy.”

They waited in silence for a few more moments.

“One mi—” Fig began to say, but Mazey quickly cut across her. 

“There he is!”

And there he was indeed, jogging along the path at full speed, sword hanging at his hip, looking breathless as he pulled up to the table.

“Hey… guys…” he panted out. “Just… give me a second to breathe.”

Fig swung her legs down from the table. “Well, well, well, you decided to come after all.”

Fabian, still clutching his chest, flashed her a smile. “I did. I help my friends when they need me.” He glanced at Adaine, who gave him the slightest smile. He hoped this meant all was forgiven.

“Touching,” Fig said sarcastically. She sprang up from her seat and grabbed her bass guitar. “So! Rules! As we discussed, classic one v one. No official timer, countdown. Magic and magic items allowed. Fair?”

Fabian didn’t really know the specifics, but he nodded along.

“Alright. And one more order of business: What do I get if I win?” Fig asked, fiddling with the strings on her bass.

Fabian frowned. “You get the room.”

Fig laughed. “I already have the room.” She looked around, gaze lingering on the lake, before snapping her eyes back to Fabian, grinning wickedly. “If I win, you tell me that adventure battling is stupid and not worth it, and jump in the lake.”

“If it’s so stupid and not worth it, then why did you challenge me?” Fabian retorted.

Fig raised an eyebrow at him and snorted. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Which wasn’t an answer at all.

Fabian sighed. “Fine. I accept the terms.”

“Excellent!” Fig smiled brightly.

Fabian stepped into the makeshift arena and readied himself. He at least remembered the basic stance Pok had taught him. The rapier—dug up last minute from the attic—was a little too heavy in his hands, but it would have to do.

Fig, hands poised with her bass, stood at the other end in a confident manner. “Ready when you are, Seacaster. You want to count down?”

“You can do it,” Fabian said. He flexed his fingers on the hilt of his blade.

“Three…”

Oh gods, he was going to embarrass himself.

“Two…”

At least now Adaine and Mazey couldn’t say he didn’t try.

“One!”

Fabian swung, and immediately he knew he made a mistake.

The weight of the sword did not seem to want to work with him. Fig sidestepped his strike easily and he stumbled forward, at least managing to use his momentum to swing around instead of fall. 

Fig was a very different opponent than Riz—she was a bard and knew some basic spells, and she wasn’t as fast, but she fought dirty. “Tired already, Seacaster? I haven’t done this in six years, either. What’s your excuse?”

Fabian stumbled back at the Cutting Words, complete with a booming power chord.

He growled, hands clenching as he swung in, trying to close the distance, but Fig calmly sidestepped every time, easily pushing him away from him with magic each time.

He thrusted in. She sidestepped and sent a Firebolt straight to his chest, and he tumbled back, barely avoiding landing on his ass.

Fig plucked a sharp note on her bass, and Fabian could feel the psychic energy pushing at him from inside his head. He powered through, forcing himself to stand up and reorient himself. 

He tried again, this time lunging from the right and getting close enough to graze her, but she gracefully twirled away, blocked the attack with the back of her guitar, and spun it like a quarterstaff, pushing him back.

Fabian clenched his fists, panting from the exertion. His stance… his form… everything was wrong, he could feel it, but he didn’t know how to correct it.

Fig tsk ed and strummed a minor chord, sending more psychic energy in waves to Fabian, a Dissonant Whispers hitting him hard. “Sure you’re cut out for this, my guy?”

Fabian’s arms began to shake as he stumbled back involuntarily. For a moment, he hesitated, and that was all Fig needed.

A Firebolt went straight for his stomach and knocked him back, this time fully knocking him over. The sword clattered from his hand.

Fabian coughed as Fig walked up, taking her sweet time. She didn’t even look tired.

“Wow. I thought I’d be rusty, but that wasn’t too bad,” she mused. Then she raised her bass over her head like she was going to slam it down onto Fabian’s body.

Don’t let her hit your chest , he suddenly remembered. If she hits the fatal point, she wins.

He groped hurriedly nearby, relief washing over him when he felt the hilt of the rapier. At the last possible second, he grabbed it and blocked her bass from crashing down onto him.

For a moment, both of them were pushing against each other. Fabian grunted as she slowly began to overpower him. 

He glanced over at their audience. Mazey’s eyes were impossibly wide. Adaine’s face was nervous. So, so anxious.

He had to win. For Adaine.

But if he didn’t do something now, he was just going to keep getting knocked down over and over again.

He closed his eyes, for just a moment, still resisting Fig, and reached out to a voice he hadn’t heard in six years.

Pok. Pok, please, if you’re out there… if you’re still there… please. Help me.

Nothing.

Silence.

Fig’s bass slowly inched closer to Fabian’s chest as the muscles in his arms began to burn from the effort.

Then—

A long, exasperated sigh echoed in Fabian’s head. Alright, kid. Let’s get you out of this mess .

Fabian jolted. It worked. There was no way .

His eyes flew open.

Reach into your inner strength, give one big push up, and roll out.

Fabian tensed his muscles and dug in, dug further in than he had before. He really should’ve stretched—it would be bad to get a cramp now. He was definitely going to be so sore tomorrow.

He managed to push Fig up far enough for her to lighten the pressure a little, giving Fabian just a sliver of time to roll out of the way and get up. But that sliver was all he needed.

Fig looked utterly surprised as he managed to maneuver his way out of her grapple, pulling himself shakily to his feet.

I’ll take the reins from here, kid. Let’s do this.

Fabian closed his eyes, and he felt it again, that weird sensation he hadn’t felt since his fight with Riz at the battle ring. When he opened them, he wasn’t in his own body anymore.

Fig laughed derisively, wiping at her forehead. “You don’t die easily, do you, Seacaster?”

Fabian felt his grip steady, his balance even, his feet ground. The next time Fig swung at him with his bass, he sidestepped, ducked, and swept at her leg with his sword. Fig barely avoided tripping over her own feet.

The momentum of the fight immediately shifted. Fig tried to shoot another Firebolt at Fabian, but he easily hit it out of the air and lunged in before she could craft another spell. She just barely deflected with her bass.

“Gods, Seacaster, what the hell?” she asked, ducking under another swing. 

Fabian jabbed at her chest, and she sidestepped, but he maneuvered his sword to knock the bass out of her hands. It skidded across the ground, and he thrusted towards her so she couldn’t have the chance to pick it back up. Fig gritted her teeth as she stumbled out of the way of another lunge, tail wildly swinging to help her keep her balance.

As he swung forward one last time, Fig ducked down, slid out from between his legs, and managed to swipe at and grab her guitar. As Fabian advanced, she struck a hurried chord and yelled, “Back away!”

Fabian shuddered as he was hit by a Suggestion spell, forced to back away slowly. While distracted, Fig sprang up, darted towards him, and struck him square in the chest with the butt of her bass. He froze where he was. Both teenagers simply stood there panting in exertion for a moment.

Fabian felt a weird tingly feeling wash over him, and found that he was in control of his own body again. Still partially in shock, he looked around. “Pok?” he whispered.

Nothing. No voice sounded in his head.

His breath began to slow. Had he imagined it? But then where did all that come from?

He quickly remembered where he was, and that he had just lost the bet. Sure, he’d been expecting it, but it still stung. He straightened and offered Fig a hand.

The tiefling broke out into surprised laughter as she reached out and shook it. “Holy shit , Seacaster. What did you just pull out of your ass there?”

“I— I don’t—” 

“ Fabian !”

Both turned. Adaine was running over to them across the arena. “What the hell?”

That brought reality crashing back. “Oh,” he let out between breaths. “I lost.” He swallowed. “I’m sorry, Adaine.”

He threw down his sword and began walking towards the low barrier between them and the lake.

“Fabian, what are you doing?” Adaine ran towards him.

“A bet’s a bet,” Fig noted, shrugging. She followed him to the edge and grabbed the front of his shirt. She had to stand on her tiptoes to get up in his face, but the effect was achieved—she was still kind of terrifying. “Hey, tell you what, I’ll spare you the lake. Just say the words, that battling is stupid, and we’ll forget this ever happened, yeah?”

Fabian stared at Fig’s fiery eyes. He turned to Adaine and Mazey, two people who loved adventuring in a way he wasn’t sure he understood. He thought of the way Pok’s eyes shone as he spoke of it. People loved this shit, and he, weirdly enough, wanted to feel that.

“Let go of me,” he muttered, grabbing Fig’s hand and tearing it from the front of his shirt. Promptly, he began to shrug off his jacket.

Adaine groaned. “Fabian, don’t be stupid—”

Fig held up a hand, cutting across her: “Let him do it.” Fabian saluted at the three of them as he swung a leg over the fence.

“ Fabian !” yelled Mazey.

“Get down!” Adaine cried out. “Just make a break for it, run! You don’t have to do this!”

“I’m a man of my word,” he replied, spreading his arms out grandly before swinging the other one over. “See you on the other side, my friend.”

With that, he jumped in.

- - -

Fabian sank first.

His father was a pirate. He knew what it felt like to capsize.

Still, the shock of the cold water made him shudder for a few moments before he finally relaxed.

Humanoids float to the surface. He was aware of that. He had held his breath before he jumped in, and any second now, he was going to drift onto his back and break surface.

Except it didn’t happen. 

In fact, something weird was happening. The water didn’t move like it was supposed to. He could still feel it, fluid and gentle, but it didn’t push at his body like he was a limp doll. It was almost as if he was standing on the solid ground, except that couldn’t be possible.

Fabian opened his eyes, and surprisingly enough it was easy. 

The first thing he saw before him was a well-dressed goblin man with a golden halo and glowing feathered wings.

“Pok,” Fabian said, forgetting he was underwater. Thankfully, he seemed to be able to breathe.

The angel smiled softly. “Hey, kid. Glad to see you’re okay. That was a pretty rough one, huh?”

“I—” Fabian tried to step towards Pok, but he couldn’t seem to get the hang of the physics of this weird pseudo-water pocket. “How— where have you been?”

Pok shrugged. “I live in your heart, Fabian. When you told me to leave that time… I did. I had to. But I’ve kind of still been here this whole time.”

Fabian let out a laugh of disbelief. “I really got beat up in that fight, huh?”

“You held your own pretty well.” Pok grinned. “I’m proud of you. Who were those girls?”

Fabian felt the smile drop from his face. “Um… the one we were fighting, that’s Fig. She’s, like, a punk teenager. Bullies my friend Adaine—that’s the blonde one—a lot. I was trying to fight for Adaine’s club room. If I won, she would’ve given up the room so that Adaine could host her adventuring club.”

Pok’s face softened. “Sorry about that. Thanks for calling me back, though. I did my best, but I was afraid your body was going to give out. It seems you haven’t been doing a lot of conditioning.”

Fabian rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Yeah. Um. I haven’t… I haven’t really been… training. Fighting at all, really, since… since the day we beat that kid. Riz.”

The name seemed to send a jolt through Pok. “Right. Fabian. I never got to tell you. Look, kid, this’ll… this… wow , this is weird.” He blew out a breath. “Riz… is my son.”

Chapter Text

“Oh.” Fabian blinked. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Riz Gukgak.

Fabian hadn’t seen the kid in years, not since the fight. Not even outside of the battle ring. It was like he’d disappeared off the face of the earth. What with both he and Pok disappearing, Fabian would’ve suspected that the fight were a dream had word not got out. People began gossiping about the stories, stories of a kid who had fought only once but beat one of the best youth fighters in the country.

It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he wanted to be famous for, really.

But Riz and Pok… honestly, it made a lot of sense now.

“I’m sorry,” Fabian said quietly. “You… wanted to tell me this, didn’t you? But you couldn’t.”

Pok shrugged helplessly. “There were… other things on your mind. I understand.” He studied Fabian’s face for a moment. “I missed you, kid. Only knew you less than a day but… you got spirit.”

Fabian ducked his head and smiled. “Yeah, well… thanks. It’s been a while.”

“It has, hasn’t it?” Pok shook his head quickly. “Anyway, we’ve got to get you out of the water.”

“Oh. Right.” Fabian looked down at himself. “How am I…?”

“It’s better if you don’t question it.” Pok stepped towards Fabian. “You ready?”

“Yeah. Oh, and Pok?”

“Hm?” 

Fabian smiled softly. “It’s… good to have you back.”

Pok grinned. “Good to be back.”

His wings wrapped around Fabian, and once more, his vision was blinded by white.

- - -

“Is he dead? Did you kill him?”

“Calm down, blondie, who’s the healer here? He’s got a pulse.”

“I am also a bard, you know. I know healing spells.”

“Phaedra, nobody asked.”

“Come on, let’s get him up. Why isn’t he waking up?”

“Have you tried—”

“Oh, chill out, both of you. I got this.”

Suddenly, someone was aggressively tapping Fabian’s cheek.

“Wake up. Wake up, Seacaster. Wakey, wakey, Fabey baby.”

Fabian groaned and pulled himself up, coughing out water. “Never call me that again,” he choked out.

His vision began to unblur as he took in Fig Faeth squatting next to him and grinning. “Got it. Didn’t think you’d actually almost drown, gods, Seacaster. Aren’t you the son of a pirate?”

Adaine patted his back. “Fabian, you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m good.” He pushed his sopping wet hair out of his eyes. “Thanks.” He turned his gaze to Fig. “You won. Nice fight.”

Fig smirked. “Damn, you did good that second half. Where’d that come from?”

Fabian shrugged and did the lips-sealed gesture. 

Fig rolled her eyes. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

“Hey— seriously, though, Fig? Thank you.”

Fig blinked. “For what? If you’re talking about this”—she waved her hands vaguely at Fabian’s soaked body—“that was blondie over here. Did some weird wizard water shit.”

“I wasn’t talking about the lake—although thanks, Adaine.”

Adaine scoffed and patted his shoulder. “No big deal. Wasn’t going to have you die on me.”

Fabian turned back to Fig. “I meant the fight. I… thank you. You… I think I needed that.” He looked past her to Pok, who hovered a few inches above the ground behind her. He smiled softly. “I got back something that matters to me a lot.”

Pok bowed his head, but Fabian could tell he was smiling.

Fig stared at him for a moment, the cheeky smirk fading slowly. “Yeah. Don’t mention it.” She abruptly stood up and dusted off her skirt. “Welp. There’s that. Fought the fight, did the thing, got the t-shirt.” She bent down and picked up her bass guitar from the ground before saluting at Fabian. “And you can keep the club room. Looks like you’ll need it.”

“Wait, what?” Fabian quickly grabbed for Mazey’s hand, and she pulled him back up to his feet. “Are you serious?”

Fig turned around and started walking away. “Yup.”

“Why’d you go through with all of that if you were just going to give me the room anyway?” Adaine asked cautiously, standing up as well. “Is this some kind of trick?”

Fig stopped walking and stood still, back still facing them.

“No trick,” she finally said. “Thank you, too, Seacaster.”

Fabian, Adaine, and Mazey stood and watched as she left, none quite sure what was going on in the tiefling’s head.

- - -

An hour later, after everything had been sorted, Fabian locked himself in his bedroom on the premise of doing homework but instead spending the time catching up with Pok. “I just can’t believe you’re here again. I was seriously starting to think I’d imagined it.”

Pok sat on the edge of his bed. “A lot’s changed, it seems.” He sighed. “Like I told you—I had no idea how long it’d been since I died. It was a real shock to find out it hadn’t actually been that long at all.” He frowned down at his hands. “I wonder how they’re doing.”

Fabian tugged on his hair sheepishly. “I… haven’t seen Riz since that day we fought him at the ring,” he mumbled. “It’s like he completely vanished.”

Pok raised his eyebrows.

“I heard that maybe he moved or something? I don’t know. It might’ve been my fault.”

“If anything,” Pok mused, “it would be my fault. Gods,” he laughed suddenly, “everything that day happened so quickly it was hard to process. I mean, I possessed someone and then accidentally beat up my own kid. It’s not exactly something they cover in parenting class.”

Fabian leaned back. “It’s been weird. People kept referring to me as this… as this kid prodigy or one-hit wonder or whatever. It’s mostly died down, but people talk, you know? And it’s weird because I didn’t actually do any of that. It’s not exactly easy to explain, you know. And I haven’t done anything since.”

Pok looked at him curiously. “No adventuring training since then? I mean, I could tell from that fight earlier, but… why?”

Fabian shrugged. “Yeah, no. I felt like it would be hard to explain the regression once I didn’t have you anymore. And also… I don’t know. I felt bad. And then I never really thought to pick it back up again.”

Pok was quiet for a minute, then said, “I’m sorry again for that day. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. It’s just… his fighting style felt familiar. I guess I could subconsciously tell it was Riz. I wanted to try sparring with him again, just once. Made me kind of… feel alive.” He shook his head quickly and waved a hand in the air. “It’s stupid. Never mind.”

“No,” Fabian said quickly, “it makes sense. I think you definitely went a little too hard on him, but… yeah. He’s your son.”

“Yeah.” Pok stared at nothing in particular for a moment. “I wish I could just talk to them again. My family. They hardly know what happened.”

Fabian made a pitying face. “I’d help you—though I’d look pretty crazy, but still—except, like I said, Riz hasn’t shown face for six years. I doubt he even lives here anymore. It’s like he disappeared—I have no idea what happened to him.”

- - -

Sklonda Gukgak flexed her fingers on the steering wheel, stressfully searching the teleportation pad terminal. The cars in front of her moved at a sluggishly slow pace, and she resisted the urge to lean on the wheel. 

And then, there he was. Her young, overdramatic teenage son, clutching his bags and looking around nervously.

Six years back, Riz had come home from a trip to the battle ring crying.

It had been his and Pok’s thing, to visit the battle ring, watch a few fights, maybe spar it out. And Riz was good —insanely talented for a kid his age. Sklonda had been skeptical about exposing the kid to competitive adventure battling so early on, but Pok was excited about it—and Riz had loved it so much.

When Pok disappeared, Riz had stopped feeling the same adrenaline-filled passion for the sport. He still wanted to watch, and fight, but his spirit was broken.

Then, it got worse. Sklonda picked her son up and found him a puddle of tears, unable to fully articulate what exactly was wrong. She comforted him, reassured him that everything was okay, that sometimes you lose a fight, and it’s not that big of a deal, but he refused to listen. Sklonda had hoped he would eventually calm down.

Instead, she had somehow found herself agreeing to a years long trip to study abroad.

“Riz,” she’d said, not understanding at all, “don’t you think this is overreacting?”

Riz had simply replied, “If I’m going to be a professional adventurer, no. I need to get better, strive to be the best. Like Dad did.”

Which was a terrifying thing for a child—a literal child —to say.

Sklonda folded, though, folded far too easily for her own taste, arranging homes for him across Solace, across Spyre, arranging programs and scholarships and training classes, all under Riz’s instruction. Knowing Riz, he would’ve found a way to go even if she’d said no. Still, Sklonda would be lying if she said she didn’t spend weeks and weeks wondering if she’d been too light.

She had her own career to focus on, to distract herself, but still. She doubted she made the right choices. In any case, here she was, about to see her son in person again for the first time in six years.

Time really flew. Sklonda rolled down the window and called her son’s name. His ears perked up when he heard her voice, gaze snapping right to her and face spreading out into a wide grin.

Six years.

- - -

“I think I’m going to join your club,” Fabian said to Adaine before first period the next day.

Adaine’s head whipped around, and she stared at him, eyes wide. “Seriously?”

Fabian shrugged. “Yeah. Something about that fight yesterday…”

He glanced at Pok, before turning back to Adaine. “I remembered something really important. And I think I want to get back into it.”

Adaine’s eyes were wide. “Wait, so… you, Fabian Seacaster , notorious for fighting excellently one time and then mysteriously never showing up again, refusing to ever battle or do anything adventuring related ever again, want to join my adventuring club? Why?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Fabian leaned forward and rested his cheek against his hand. “But the point is, I want to join.”

Adaine searched his face curiously. “Okay,” she said slowly. “But that means you’re going to have to help me recruit new members. Because right now, it’s literally just you and me.”

Fabian laughed. “Your club was just you ?”

Adaine rolled her eyes. “I was trying to wait until I nailed down a club room before recruiting, thank you very much. No thanks to Fig.”

Fabian straightened. “Wait, why not Fig?”

“What?”

“Why don’t we just recruit Fig?”

Adaine stared at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am! She was really good in that fight yesterday. I think.”

Pok nodded from behind Adaine. “She really was. She doesn’t seem to have done it in a while, but she has talent.”

Fabian gestured towards Pok. “See?”

Adaine furrowed her brow at him. “See what?”

Shit . “Uh… just… see— s- see that Fig is actually pretty good.”

“Fabian, she’s been making fun of me for years .”

He sighed. “Yeah. Okay. I know. But… did you see her yesterday? Something looked off at the end there. She won . Why would she let you keep the room?”

“If you’re going to say out of the goodness of her heart, I promise you, that’s not possible.”

Fabian sighed. “Come on, Adaine, how many people in this boring-ass school do you think will actually want to join your club? We should at least ask the one person we know so far 

“I wish Mazey went to our school,” Adaine grumbled.

“Mazey goes to adventuring school . She’s not going to come to our school to join an adventuring club .”

“Okay, okay, fine. Whatever. Let’s ask Fig. But she’s going to say no.”

Fabian frowned. He hadn’t thought of that. “What is up with her? Did you have any idea she knew how to fight?”

Adaine shrugged, looking confused. “Not really.” Then she straightened a little in her seat. “Wait a minute. She only wanted to fight you. You, specifically.”

“Yeah? I remember?”

“And she only brought that up after she remembered that you beat Riz.”

Fabian winced a little. “Uh-huh.”

“So what if that has something to do with it?” Adaine leaned forward conspiratorially. “Why did Fig want to fight you so bad? What history does she have with Riz?”

“I don’t think I knew that Riz knew a girl like Fig,” Pok offered, looking thoughtful, “though it is possible. He went to a youth’s class back when he was in elementary school. Though I don’t think there were any tiefling students. I might be wrong, though, memory’s fuzzy.”

Fabian snapped and grinned. “Great thinking, P— Adaine . Come with me after school.”

“What?” Adaine squinted at him. “Why?”

“Because we’re going to investigate Fig, duh .”

- - -

“Is this really necessary? It feels a bit… stalkery,” Mazey noted.

They’d dragged her along after school to investigate what Pok told Fabian was Riz’s old battle school. Fabian was now rummaging around in a cubby in one of the empty classrooms.

Adaine, who’d begrudgingly spelled the lock open, stood next to her, neither of them helping Fabian in his search at all. “That’s what I said.”

Fabian turned back to glare at them. “I’m just trying to get information. If you’ve got a better idea, let’s hear it.”

Adaine sighed and sat down in one of the tiny chairs clearly built for children. “Literally anything that doesn’t involve breaking into a children’s school.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how I feel about this. Why do we need to do this again?”

“Because, Mazey ,” said Fabian, pulling out a beat-up old notebook from the back of the cubby, “I’m trying to help Adaine get more members for her club, and she’s being an ungrateful little shit about it.”

Mazey looked at Adaine quizzically.

Adaine rolled her eyes. “I feel like there were many other better ways to do this. What’s that you got?”

Fabian waved it around, wearing a shit-eating grin. “Come look and see.”

The girls gathered towards him to look at the book. Pok peered over his shoulder. In small, neat, bubbly handwriting that Fabian would have never attributed to the punk rock teenage tiefling he knew today, the notebook was labelled Battle Logbook with the name Figueroth Faeth scribbled underneath.

“Faeth!” Pok said suddenly, and Fabian turned to him before quickly camouflaging it stretching his neck. “Fig is Sandra Lynn’s daughter?”

“You recognize her?” Fabian asked under his breath.

“Sandra Lynn Faeth used to work at the battle ring. I remember now—her daughter was one of Riz’s classmates. They were kind of friends-ish?” Pok shook his head. “But last time I checked, Sandra Lynn’s daughter was… she wasn’t a tiefling.”

Fabian sucked in a breath slowly as he opened up the book and flipped through it to mask his thinking. “Fig’s daddy issues.”

“What?” Adaine looked at Fabian.

“Remember? Back when Fig had that u-turn from preppy popular elf girl to whatever she is now? It had something to do with her mom having an affair.”

Pok whistled, eyebrows raising. “ Wow . It’s been a while.”

“Yeah? What does that have to do with anything?” asked Adaine, reaching over and leafing through the book.

“Nothing,” Fabian lied. “I just remembered.” He examined one of the pages. “What is this?”

“Battle logbook,” Mazey and Pok said at the same time. Pok made an after you gesture as Mazey continued, “Basically in non-ameteur battles there are timers and note-takers and whatnot that keep track of every move in the fight for grading purposes. This seems to be Fig’s from when she went to this school.” She frowned. “How did you know it’d be here?”

Fabian glanced at Pok. “Stroke of good luck.”

“Oh, wow.” Adaine ran her finger down one of the pages. “She’s good .”

“Let me see that.” Mazey tapped on one of the pages. “Gods, she won all the time! This is nuts.” She began to flip through the pages.

“Wait!” Adaine grabbed at the book to stop her. “Go back! Look at that.” She tapped repeatedly at the header. “ Riz .”

“Whoa. That’s a lot of fights against Riz. And he won every single one of these,” Mazey noted, sounding slightly awed. “That’s crazy . Look how high he scored on this one.”

Pok gave a small, proud smile.

Fabian took the book, looking through at the sheer amount of pages that were headered 1v1: Figueroth Faeth VS Riz Gukgak . Not a single one marked Fig as the winner. The logs eventually stopped about three fourths of the way through the book, at a date from about eight years ago.

“I think this is exactly what we’re looking for,” he said, looking up at the girls with a grin.

- - -

Fabian slammed the tattered notebook down on the desk in front of Fig the next morning, making her jump in her seat. “ Gods , what the fuck?” She looked up at him.

He gestured at the book. “There. I’ve solved it. I’ve solved your tragic backstory.”

“My what ?” She took the fight log and squinted at it. “Where the fuck did you find this? This is from, like, seven years ago.”

“Eight years ago,” Fabian corrected.

Fig stared at him. “What is this?”

Fabian pulled up a chair and sat down in front of her. “Let me paint a picture for you, Figueroth Faeth.”

Adaine sighed from behind him while Pok said under his breath with just a hint of amusement, “Oh, boy.” Fabian ignored both of them.

Fig just continued staring at him in utter confusion. “Okay?”

Fabian picked up the book and flipped through it cinematically. “Young little Fig Faeth, about… seven or eight years old, in a class especially for adventuring. So excited, so pure, so young and bright—”

Adaine coughed from behind him.

“—and so ready to learn. But what’s this? The son of one of the greatest adventurers of the modern era—”

Pok snorted. “Talk it up, Fabian, go on.”

“—is in your class . And not only that, you’re paired with him over and over again, and each time he devastatingly beats you. Isn’t that right, Fig?”

“I—”

“So your poor young heart was broken, ridden with trauma, and that’s the story of how your soul blackened and you became the little bitch you are today. How accurate am I?”

Fig rolled her eyes and snatched the book back from him. “I don’t have trauma , I was eight . Some kid beat me a few times, that kid happened to be Riz. So what?” She looked around at him and Adaine. “And what’s all this about, anyway?”

Adaine shrugged. “Beats me.”

Fabian shot her a glare before turning back to Fig. “This is about how I figured out why you left adventuring and why you’re such a bitter little shit all the time.”

“ Wow .” Fig flipped through the fight log. “Where did— where did you even find this?”

“Yeah, Fabian, where’d you find it?” Adaine asked.

Fabian waved his hands around. “Irrelevant! The point is, Riz Gukgak broke you that day and you’ve never had the heart to battle again. Today, that changes.”

Fig tossed the book across the table. “You’re throwing things way out of proportion. Not everyone’s as dramatic as you preteen boys are. I just wasn’t feeling it, so I quit. Riz beats everyone he fights, it’s not a big deal.”

“So why’d you want to fight me?” Fabian asked, leaning forward. “Why were you so interested in fighting the only person your age who has ever beat Riz Gukgak in a fight?”

Fig stared at him. He stared back.

Finally, Fig blew out a long breath. “Okay, look. I didn’t fucking quit just because I couldn’t win against Riz, okay?” She crossed her arms and leaned back, glaring at a spot of wall behind Fabian. “I quit because I won .”

Adaine straightened. “You won against Riz?”

Fig shrugged, but she looked small. “Yeah. He used to win against me all the time. My parents went crazy about it. Then one day, I won. I was so fucking happy about it too. I swear to the gods, I was so lame. Anyway, later I found out he just let me win. He was scared my parents were going to yell at me, or something.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need anyone’s fucking pity, especially not from him.”

“So… you quit?” Fabian asked.

“Look,” Fig said, planting her arms on the table and leaning forward, “what is this? Clearly you want something from me. So just spit it out.”

Adaine pulled up a chair and sat down next to Fabian. “What my entitled friend over here is trying to say is… would you consider doing adventure battling again? Because I’d really like another member for my club. And maybe if we get three people, we could participate in triad competitions?”

Fig picked at her nails, looking slightly troubled. “I don’t know, blondie. I’m sort of rusty.”

“There’s probably nobody else in this school who knows anything about adventure battling,” Adaine said. “You’re probably one of, like, maybe five. None of us are particularly experienced, but you were good the other day. Could you maybe consider it?”

“Look. I’ve tried battling. It’s not for me .”

“You have a talent,” Adaine argued.

“If I can go back into it,” Fabian offered, “so can you.”

Fig perked up. “ You’re getting back into battling? Fabian Seacaster?”

Fabian nodded.

Fig stared at them both.

Then she sighed, grabbed the fight book, and slid it across the table to Fabian. “Fine. I accept. What the fuck, right?”

Fabian caught the book. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Sure. Why not?” She leaned back in her seat. “It’ll be a nice distraction from this dump of a school.”

Fabian and Adaine looked at each other. “Okay,” Adaine finally said. “We meet on Thursday afternoons. You know the club room.”

“Sure do,” Fig said boredly, pulling out her crystal.

“See you there, then.”

“See you.”

Adaine stood up and headed towards the classroom door. Fabian followed, but not before he looked at Fig one more time.

She was scrolling on her crystal, avoiding looking at them, but Fabian thought he caught her smiling.

- - -

Riz Gukgak hadn’t been home in six years.

The apartment was still pretty much the same, so it was like stepping into a pocket of time from long, long ago. As he sat down gingerly on the couch, his hand went into his pocket, fingers lightly brushing over one of his most precious possessions.

Sklonda was in the kitchen, preparing him some fruit.

Riz carefully pulled the gold wristwatch out of his pocket, fingers running across its edges and ridges that had become very familiar over the years. 

“What’s that?” asked Sklonda, walking in with a plate of apple slices and setting them down on the table.

Riz dropped it into his lap. “Gift from someone,” he said dismissively, taking a slice of fruit.

“Ah.” She watched him for a moment before she picked up some fruit as well. “It’s been a while since you’ve been home.”

“Yeah, well, six years is no joke.”

“You can say that again."

Riz’s fingers hovered over the watch again.

“I know what you think,” he said after a moment’s pause. “That the trip was a huge overreaction.”

Sklonda didn’t answer, but Riz knew what that meant.

“Honestly, I can’t tell you exactly why I felt like I needed it. But that fight… I don’t know. It weird. Like, it felt like… I connected to it somehow.” Riz fidgeted with his hands, struggling to articulate his thoughts. “It just feels like I need to fight him again. But I knew I wasn’t ready.”

Sklonda sighed slowly. “Look, sweetie, I trust you. You’ve been learning well all these years, and… I trust you when you say you weren’t just running away from a bad loss. Still, it’s going to be a weird adjustment.”

Riz nodded. “Thank you. And yeah. I know.” He looked up at her. “It’s good to be back.”

She smiled. “Good to have you back, honey.”

He smiled back. Then his gaze shifted back to the wristwatch in his lap. “I just can’t wait to find him again.”

He wondered, silently whether it had been enough. Whether the trip had been worth it.

Time would have to tell.

Chapter Text

Word that Riz Gukgak was back in town quickly got around Elmville. The son of the well-known adventurers Pok and Sklonda Gukgak, child prodigy, mysteriously defeated by Fabian Seacaster—it seemed everyone knew at this point about his sabbatical and how he’d finally returned to Elmville, older and faster and stronger than ever. Word on the street was, he was searching Elmville for the kid that’d beat him for the ultimate rematch, which of course was a fight anticipated by many a battle enthusiast.

It honestly seemed like the last person to know about this was the kid himself.

- - -

Adaine clapped her hands together. “Alright, you two. Our first club meeting is in session, and we need to talk triads, because they’re coming up quickly.” She pulled out three small notebooks and began to pass them out.

Fabian, sitting at a desk two rows from the front, raised his hand as she placed one in front of him.

“I’m going to explain what they are, Fabian, don’t worry.”

Fabian put his hand down, sharing a look with Pok, who sat on the table next to him, before reaching for the notebook and tucking it into his jacket pocket.

Fig, her boots kicked up on the desk in front of her, blew out a long breath. “I haven’t competed in so freaking long.”

“Then you’re on par with the rest of us,” Adaine assured her. “Fabian’s only fought three times in his life, and I’ve really only read books about it.”

Fig raised her eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“I mean, I know how to do combat spells and stuff, I’ve tried them, but I’ve never fought anybody before.”

“Why?”

Adaine shrugged. “I just never really had anyone who could battle with me before, seeing as my only friend at this school is this dunce over here.”

“Hey,” protested Fabian.

“Don’t you have a sister?” Fig pointed out.

Adaine looked away. “Why would she ever want to battle me?”

The room was silent for a second.

“Sorry,” Fig mumbled.

“It’s all good,” Adaine said airily. “The point is, I talked to the school about entering the three of us as a triad team for the upcoming school brackets, and they agreed. We’re going to be competing in about two weeks, and since none of us are particularly ready to do well, we’re going to have to train, and fast . Fortunately, most high school triad teams are pretty crap.

“But before we get anywhere, let’s talk about the rules. High school triad competitions are structured in a bracket system, with each school being paired against another. The first two rounds are simultaneous one v ones, where each member individual of the team competes with individual members of the opposing team. The school that wins the majority of the fights moves onto the next round.”

“Oh,” Fabian noted. “So if the three of us were competing, and two of us won—”

“—then you don’t have to worry about screwing up,” Fig finished.

“Exactly,” Adaine said. “The final round is a three v three, where all three members of each team are put into the same arena and made to fight. In this round, the last team standing wins, so again, even if you get tapped out, your team can still win if all three of the opposing team get tapped before all three people on your team do. We’ve honestly got a pretty good class composition for triads—wizard, bard, fighter. We’ve got spellcasting, physical fighting, and even some heals. Not as good as a cleric, but good enough. Those heals will come in helpful.”

Fig raised her hands. “Hey, beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Wait,” said Fabian, “why would we need heals?”

“You’re used to preteen and ameteur fight rules,” Adaine explained. “In high school competitions, injuries are allowed. Killing is, too, actually, but not necessary or the goal. You still only need a fatal tap. But if you do die, there are clerics at every fight. They also heal you back to full health before each round.”

“I told you way back, the older divisions get bloodier,” Pok reminded him.

“Damn,” Fabian said. “So you could actually die doing this?”

Adaine shrugged. “Yeah. You’ll get revived, though.”

“You can trust battle clerics, they know how to do your job. You’ll be fine,” Pok said encouragingly.

“That would be a lot more reassuring if it wasn’t coming from a dead man,” Fabian muttered. The angel only cracked a smile in return.

“Anyway,” continued Adaine, “those are the basics. If you’ve got any other questions, ask them now, because we’ve got to get started training.”

“No questions here,” said Fig.

“Yeah, none,” Fabian agreed.

“Awesome.” Adaine, grinning with a slightly wicked edge, pulled out a large textbook and put it down on the table in front of her. It made a heavy-sounding banging noise. “Let’s get to work.”

- - -

“My darling boy!” roared Bill Seacaster as Fabian arrived back home to Seacaster Manor that day.

“Papa!” Fabian replied in surprise. “You’re back?” Bill had been on a six-month trip overseas for most of the year. With all that had happened in the last couple of days, Fabian hadn’t been keeping track of what day it was.

“Well, of course I’m back! It has been quite a while since I laid my eye on you, eh, boy?” Bill clapped Fabian on the back and laughed uproariously. “What a half-year! How’s your mother getting on?”

“As usual,” Fabian muttered. “In her egg, not caring about anything.”

“Well, that’s your mother for ya, ain’t that right, me boy?”

Fabian shrugged and sat down at the kitchen counter. “If you say so.” He reached for an orange. “Papa, I… I’ve decided to take up adventuring again. I— I joined my school’s competitive battle triad with my friend, Adaine.”

Fabian’s father whirled around, eye wide. “Do I be hearing you right, boy? You’re taking up adventuring again?”

Fabian nodded slowly.

“Well, of course that’s lovely, my darling boy!” Bill laughed again. “This is wonderful! I’ve always said you were more cut out for Aguefort anyway, but you so determinedly refused!”

“Okay, let’s not go overboard,” Fabian said quickly, “I just joined my high school’s battle team. No big deal.”

“But of course!” Bill pulled up a chair next to Fabian. “You’ve reminded me— I’ve got news for you, boy!”

“News, papa? Of what sort?” 

“You’ve got a visitor!” Bill patted Fabian’s shoulder enthusiastically. “Little goblin boy, came running up to the doorstep and hurriedly asking for one Fabian Seacaster just earlier this morning!”

Fabian’s fingers had frozen in the middle of peeling the orange in his hands at little goblin boy . He’d really only known there to be one young goblin in the town of Elmville. “What did you say?”

“Said he be looking for you, and wants to battle it out! I assumed he came to avenge some kind of debt you owed him or some sort like that. I told him you weren’t home, of course.”

Fabian swallowed. “Did he… did he say anything else?”

Bill slid over a grubby, folded sheet of paper. “Why, he left this little note for you.”

Fabian unfolded it carefully.

XXX-XXX-XXXX

Please call me. Maybe I won’t lose again this time.

-R

“Fuck,” Fabian muttered under his breath.

“What kind of trouble have you be getting up to up to since I been gone, boy?” Bill seemed highly amused by this whole thing.

“N-nothing,” Fabian insisted, “this is from… way before. I don’t… I haven’t even seen him in years.”

“Fascinating.” Bill plucked a slice from Fabian’s orange and popped it in his mouth. “Well, a true Seacaster never backs down from a challenge to a battle, eh, me boy?”

“O-of course, Papa,” Fabian said hurriedly. “I’ll… I’ll be in my room.”

He quickly excused himself from the table and bounded up the stairs two at a time.

- - -

“Why would Riz be looking for me?” Fabian demanded, pacing throughout his bedroom. He’d ripped up the note and stuffed it in his trashcan, much to Pok’s disapproval. “Better question— why was Riz looking for me at my house ? How did he know where my house was? Is he stalking me? Since when was he back in Elmville?” He tore a hand through his hair and flopped onto the bed. “What am I supposed to do?” 

Pok sat at the foot of the bed. “Call him?”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Actually, I don’t. Please elaborate.”

Fabian sighed. “You do. Think, Pok. Riz wants to fight me again. He wants a rematch. He’s been gone for six years, and he shows up on my doorstep looking for a rematch . What the fuck am I supposed to say to that? And— and I’m not the person he’s looking for . How am I supposed to fight him the way that I am?” He buried his face in his hands. “Fuck, do you think he’s been gone all that time just to prepare for a fucking rematch? I’m… I’m not the person he thinks I am.”

Pok moved closer to Fabian. “You’re… scared of fighting him again, aren’t you?”

Fabian waved a hand in the air. “I’m not scared , I just… it’s… he thinks I’m someone special, just like everyone else in this fucking town does, and I’m not. I can’t fight him again. He needs to understand that I was just a blip in his life and move on.”

Pok looked deeply contemplative. “I don’t think he’d ever be able to accept that, really. Riz always had a hard time moving on from anything, especially a mystery. I wonder what it was that made him want to leave for that long. Surely it wasn’t simply losing a fight.” He chuckled. “I’ll bet Sklonda must’ve taken some convincing. Riz’s mother,” he clarified, glancing over at Fabian.

Fabian nodded. “Yeah, I’ve… heard of her. Hard not to.” He looked up at Pok. “Both of you are super famous in the adventuring community at this point.”

“Wow. Really .” Pok shook his head. “A lot can change in six years.”

“I know.” Fabian fidgeted with his hands. “ Including Riz. He must be so strong at this point, he was already so good six years ago.”

“And you don’t want to fight him again?”

Fabian went quiet. “I… is it bad that I kind of do?”

“Of course it’s not bad.” Pok hovered an arm over Fabian’s shoulders and Fabian imagined that he could feel it. “But you don’t feel ready.”

Fabian shook his head.

“Well, you know what the best course of action when you’re not as good as you want to be?” Pok leaned towards Fabian and grinned conspiratorially. “You practice. You get better. You, say, train as hard as you can for the high school triad tournament Adaine signed you up for. How does that sound?”

Fabian couldn’t help but grin back. “I’d say that sounds perfect. Thanks, Pok.”

“You got it, kid,” Pok replied with a wink.

- - -

Adaine spent the next two weeks rigorously training Fig and Fabian, strategizing and warning them against doing anything stupid. 

“We’re going to want to play to our strengths,” Adaine said. “Fig, I put you on deck as lead since you have the most experience. Fabian, you’re third player, and I’m second.”

“Works for me,” said Fabian.

“Fig and I will need to keep our spell slots open, since we’ll be using them for all the fights of the day,” Adaine continued. “Fabian, that’s not a problem for you, but the principle is the same—don’t tire yourself out too early on, because you’re going to have to keep going.”

Pok had also had a conversation with Fabian. “I want you to do this fight yourself, okay? I’ll give you some pointers between rounds, but no possession or instruction from me en media res , got that?”

“Yeah,” Fabian had said, “Totally. Makes sense. I honestly want to see how I’m doing as well, without your help.”

Unfortunately, this promise also meant getting his ass completely kicked by the others every time they practiced. The third time he was knocked halfway across the makeshift arena at Seacaster Manor by a tasty bass lick from Fig, she strode across and planted a combat boot on his chest before he could sit up. “Hey, are you fucking taking this seriously or not, Seacaster?”

Fabian rolled his eyes. “I’m doing my best.”

She stepped off of him, and he dusted off his shirt as he stood up. “Look, I want that championship, okay? And if we lose it because of you, then I’m not fucking around when I say I’ll throw you in the lake again.”

“Fig, can you not bully our third member, please?” Adaine asked tiredly. “No matter how incompetent he is, we still need his ass whole to qualify for the competition.”

“I feel full of love, thanks a lot, Adaine,” Fabian muttered, picking up his sword from the ground.

“Not gonna be any point in qualifying if we can’t get past the first round,” Fig snapped.

“There’s still the two of us, chill out,” Adaine said, flipping through her textbook calmly.

Fabian threw up his arms. “Can you two stop talking about me like I’m a lost case? I’m trying my best, I’ll get my act together.”

“You’d better. It’s in two fucking days.” Fig jabbed a finger at his chest, tail swishing in irritation.

Adaine bit her lip as she closed her book.. “It is kind of soon, Fabian. Are you sure…?”

Fabian sighed and tugged on his hair. “Look, just… you two focus on not losing no matter what. I’ll figure myself out from there.”

Fig collapsed into a sitting position on the ground, legs crossed. “You two had better get your game up, because I swear to the gods if you lose me this tournament…”

“What? What did I do?” asked Adaine.

Fig waved a hand at the textbook she was clutching. “You can’t fight without your fucking book. You gotta learn to think on your feet, girl.”

Adaine looked hurt. “Why do you care about winning so bad anyway? You literally were talking about how trash battling was not two weeks ago.”

“I just… want to prove I’m a champion, alright?” Fig flicked some invisible dirt off of her skirt. “It’s stupid, but I was fucking good at battling. I’m not letting you two drag me down.”

Adaine shrugged, but she still looked contemplative. “Sure, Fig. Whatever you say.”

Fabian brushed himself off as he joined Adaine in leaning against the wall. “We’ll do our best, Fig. Really.”

Fig shrugged and strummed her bass. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

- - -

The day of the tournament, Fabian was decidedly not ready.

Fabian traced a finger along the hilt of his new sword, a gift from his father in excitement from Fabian’s announcement. It was lighter than he expected, far more balanced for his grip than the cheap one he’d been using to practice. It was a kind gesture, expected of Bill Seacaster’s gradiosity, which was nice and all, but Fabian still felt his stomach twist, disoriented as he stepped into the battle grounds, held in the gym of the hosting school.

Adaine dragged him and Fig over to look at the bracket board before the fight.

“Eight schools,” she said, gesturing to the list. “That means three rounds. Remember, two one-on-one fights, before finals—”

“A triad fight,” Fabian offered. “I remember.”

“Right!” Adaine beamed, which made Fabian kind of feel like he was a kid being called a star student by a teacher. He wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about that.

Fig shouldered her bass. “Don’t screw up, either of you, you hear me? I’m only doing this with you guys because I want the championship.”

“We know,” Fabian said. 

Adaine scanned the bracket board again, sucking air through her teeth. “Aguefort’s here.”

Fabian perked up. “Really? You think Mazey’s here?”

“Don’t think she fights for the triad team,” Adaine said. “And she would’ve texted us.”

“Oh,” Fabian said, “true.” He wondered what Mazey would say if he saw him here, fighting again. Would she be proud? Or say ‘I told you so’?

“Aguefort is really good,” Adaine was saying, twisting and untwisting her fingers. “Don’t know if we’ll be able to win against them. Thank the gods we’re not up against them, lucky draw.”

Fig pointed at the board where Aguefort Academy was written. “We’ll be fighting them in finals.”

“If we make it that far,” Fabian added.

Fig glared at him.

“We will make it that far,” Adaine interjected confidently. “We’ve got this.”

“As long as you two keep it together.” Fig walked away from the bracket board. “C’mon, let’s get checked in.”

While Fig and Adaine went ahead, still talking as they approached the registration table, Fabian stayed back, swinging his sword lightly. “What do you think?”

Pok materialized, sitting cross-legged in midair. “What do I think about what?”

“About the competition.” He gestured to the rest of the giant gymnasium, at the large groups of scary-looking students and weapons.

“I think it’s a great learning opportunity,” Pok said lightly.

“You think I’m going to lose,” Fabian grumbled.

“I don’t , I promise. I just think you have a long way to go and a lot to learn, and you’re… about to find out where you stand.” 

“Same thing.” Fabian began to follow the girls. “Well, whatever. We’ll win. Fig and Adaine are great. And who knows, I may just win.”

- - -

Before the fights, the girls kept using Message cantrips to talk to each other and Fabian, whispering rules and pointers and insults at each other. Fabian found it extremely nerve-wracking.

He managed to hold his own against his human warlock opponent for the first minute, parrying and dodging the first few hits surprisingly well, even landing a good strike to the arm. Unfortunately her superior stamina quickly overpowered him, and he found himself knocked to the ground after just a few rounds by a well-placed Eldritch Blast.

He stumbled out of the ring for the cleric only to see Fig watching. She’d beat her half-orc fighter in about a minute. “He was good, but I could tell he was underestimating me,” she said dismissively. “He was so predictable, I had him down with a Thunderwave almost immediately.”

They both went over to watch Adaine, whose fight lasted longer. The heat was on as she heard the announcements that they were now with one win and one loss, meaning that it depended entirely on her to win for her team to move on. Fortunately, Adaine took the pressure well—her opponent, a Wild Magic sorcerer, was strong but imprecise. Adaine took advantage of his Wild Magic surge—which sent the poor boy flying over ten feet into the air—to knock him into the ground with Magic Missle and hit him square in the chest with a Ray of Cold.

She sighed in relief when she won, straightening up only for Fig to run into the arena and grab her.

“You did it! We’re moving on!” Fig cackled and high-fived her and Fabian. “Fabian, up it up, man! We carried this time, but don’t be dead weight, you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Fabian muttered sarcastically.

Pok hovered next to him. “I could give you some pointers.”

Fabian blew out a long breath of air. “Yeah, that would be great.”

- - -

Round number two, Fabian was up against a barbarian guy, and he was being fucking annihilated. 

He could hear over the speakers that Fig won against her rogue opponent within her first two minutes again. A few minutes into the fight, though, a ringing had started sounding in Fabian’s ears, and he couldn’t hear anything but his own thoughts of I’m fucking screwed and the little noises of approval and—more commonly—disapproval that Pok was making while flitting about on his wings and following along with the intensity of the fight, so he had no idea how Adaine was faring against her cleric combatant.

The barbarian dude in front of him swung with his club, and Fabian yelped as he managed to avoid getting his head bashed in.

“ Fabian, focus the fuck up, ” came a Message to his mind in the familiar voice of Fig. “ You’re not going to lose us this. I won, but Adaine lost. Come on, my guy, keep up. ”

Fabian’s heart immediately sank at those words. If Adaine lost, then… the outcome entirely relied on him. He gritted his teeth as he managed to semi-successfully parry. “ I’m trying . I’m sorry, Fig, I think we can’t win you this championship. ”

“ It’s not about me and the fucking championship! ” Fig’s voice sounded exasperated. “ Don’t you get it? Adaine signed us up for this under the school’s name behind administration’s back! If we don’t win this, they’re going to shut down her club! ”

“What ? ”

“Fabian, your left!” Pok called out. Fabian quickly dodged, trying to focus on the fight and the conversation at the same time.

“ Why didn’t she tell me? ”

“ She didn’t want to fucking psych you out or something, but listen—you’d better get your ass in gear or you can kiss this club goodbye. ”

Fabian cursed under his breath, groaning as he stabbed forward and missed. “Pok,” he muttered under his breath, “they’re going to shut down Adaine’s club if I lose this.”

Pok sighed. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

Fabian yelped as he was knocked back and somehow managed to stay on his feet. “There’s no way I can save this fight?”

“There’s always a way,” Pok replied, “but I don’t know if you’ll be able to find it like this.”

Fabian parried and swung wildly. “Can you please help me? Adaine’ll be fucking devastated if her club shuts down.” He ducked down and swung again.

Pok was quiet for just a moment, while Fabian narrowly avoided a blow to the stomach. “I can… possess you again? I know I told you I wouldn’t, but…”

“I’m doing my best,” Fabian pleaded, “but I’m not fucking ready this time. And Adaine needs this win.”

Pok nodded solemnly. “It’s a deal then. Get ready.”

Fabian used his own body weight to push the barbarian backwards. As his opponent stumbled, he felt Pok take over his body, the strangely elastic sensation coming over him again, almost as if he were suspended in his own body.

“Make sure you watch, and feel, and learn, got it?” Pok asked in Fabian’s mind. “Don’t just follow along like a marionette, or you’ll never learn.”

“You got it,” Fabian replied telepathically, and settled in.

The next time the barbarian brought his club down, Pok-as-Fabian parried and spun out of the way effortlessly. Fabian did his best to feel the sensations through his body, as if he were actually doing them, as he spun around, feinted, and lunged to the right. Fabian could see his combatant’s face start to twist with confusion as “Fabian” seemed to improve instantly.

Fabian followed along with his body as he sidestepped, slashed, dodged and redirected with seemingly no effort. Barbarians can take hits, but they sure can’t do much if they can’t land any.

His opponent began to charge, and Fabian felt his hands flex on the handle of the sword. 

Feint, pivot, tap. 

Just as the barbarian thought he was going for an opening, he found himself slashing at air as Fabian ducked, spun, then slipped under his opponents arm before touching the tip of his sword to the fatal zone.

Immediately his skin tingled, and he felt Pok leave his body.

“Fabian Seacaster wins!”

“And that’s how you beat a barbarian,” Pok said, twirling his gun. “Good game, kid.”

Fabian sighed in relief. Their team was moving on to finals .

Adaine and even Fig cheered and hugged him as he left the ring, in desperate need for heals. “Dug deep, didn’t you, Seacaster?” grinned Fig.

Fabian wiped at his sweat and gratefully accepted a water bottle from Adaine. “We’re finalists,” he said in a hushed tone. “Can you believe that?”

Adaine clapped her hand to her mouth. “We’re against Aguefort .”

Fig’s smile faded just a little.

Fabian resisted the urge to choke out his water. “ Oh . I forgot about that part.”

“Pfft!” Fig waved a hand in the air. “It’s just Aguefort. We could beat them. As long as Fabian keeps doing his magic.”

Fabian glanced as inconspicuously as he could at Pok.

“I’ve gotta admit, kid,” Pok said, “I don’t know about the moral implications, but it feels good to fight again. I’ve got your back, so long as you say you’re paying attention and actually learning.”

“Of course I am,” Fabian reassured.

“You are what?” asked Adaine.

Fabian spluttered. “I— I am— what I mean is, I will . I will keep, uh… keep doing whatever it was Fig said I was doing. Yeah. You got it. You can count on me.”

Adaine raised an eyebrow at him, but let it slide. “Focus in, guys. One more fight, and we got this competition in the bag.” She grinned with barely controlled excitement.

 The third round arena was greater than the first two by far. Fabian looked around, as they entered, trying not to feel overwhelmed. 

“Remember, team fights, different dynamic. Coordination is key,” Adaine repeated to them telepathically as they set up in opening stance, mirroring the other team: a lanky dwarven fighter flexing his hands on a battleaxe, a halfling rogue in the back, twirling two daggers in her hands while blowing bubblegum, and a small half-elf wizard whose quarterstaff seemed multiple feet too tall for her small frame. Then again, it was better than the crystal ball Adaine kept lugging around for whatever reason. It was a wonder it hadn’t cracked yet.

“Three, two, one— begin !”

Fig went straight for it, aggressive as always, aiming a strike straight for the wizard. Fabian felt his insides elasticized as Pok took over, puppeting his body to jump in to protect Adaine from the offense. While the two of them held the front line, Fig swung her bass and shot spells ruthlessly at the tiny wizard girl, immediately knocking her to the ground. Before she could land the fatal hit, however, the rogue managed to feint out Adaine and escape before throwing a dagger, which landed with a sickening thud into Fig’s thigh. Fig hissed in pain and stumbled right into the path of a last-second Scorching Ray to the chest from the half-elf on the ground, going down.

“One down!”

Fabian wanted to turn to look at Fig, but Pok kept him focused. See how they worked together? Find ways to use each others’ strengths to supplement your own weaknesses, and vice versa. He perfectly brought Fabian’s body down to a crouch to dodge a swing from the other fighter before sweeping at the dwarves legs with his sword and knocking him off balance, giving Adaine the perfect opportunity to hit him with a Ray of Cold.

“Avenge me!” Fig called out while the cleric entered the arena with a magical shield up to drag her to the side.

“You got it!” Adaine knocked aside a spell from the other wizard before sharing a quick glance with Fabian. “Let’s get them,” she mouthed.

Fabian focused on the feel of his hands on the sword and followed along with the fluid finesse Pok matched the brute force of the other fighter with. He began to get a feel of the steps; Pok wasn’t trying to overpower them, but out-maneuver them. After a reckless swing of his axe, the other fighter just barely stumbled, and Pok didn’t hesitate for even a moment before sidestepping perfectly and tapping him out gracefully in the small of his back.

“One down!”

Adaine shot Fabian a grin.

Fig hissed out a sigh while Fabian and Adaine held steady, leaning and tilting her head back to catch her breath. 

A familiar face in the crowd of spectators caught her eye. She straightened.

She and Riz Gukgak stared at each other, both with eyes widened in recognition. A million thoughts ran through Fig’s head on how to react.

She settled for pressing her mouth into a flat line and nodding at him. He nodded back at her, stiffly. She smiled a little.

Clatter ! Her attention shifted back to the fight as Fabian knocked aside one of the halfling’s daggers.

“I’m holding her off, Fabian!” Adaine yelled across the arena to him, fighting the wizard girl that had picked herself up since taking down Fig. “Get the rogue and then get over here!”

Fabian would’ve yelped if he could as the rogue’s blade came close to scraping his cheek, but Pok easily helped him shy away from it before thrusting at the halfling’s abdomen. She deftly lept away somehow while popping her bubblegum. She flicked her wrist and threw her last dagger, which nicked Fabian in the side. He felt the pain bloom but didn’t have time to react as his body was pulled forward, sword landing a fatal tap on the side of the rogue’s throat.

“Two down!”

Adaine pumped her fist distractedly while throwing up a shield. “I’ve got this one!” She thrust out her hand and hit the small half-elf square in the stomach with Ray of Sickness, and the wizard doubled over as she threw up onto the ground. 

“Three down!” boomed the announcer.

Fabian’s ears were ringing as Pok’s influence faded from his body with the usual tingle. He breathed heavily, eyes scanning the arena, almost as if expecting more, more to come, more opponents, something.

“We won,” he finally whispered, breaking the silence. Then he rushed over to grab Adaine and spun her around. “We won! ”

“We did!” she said, laughing. “Fig, get up!”

“I’m coming in!” Fig didn’t even seem bitter about having been tapped out. She ran over and joined the group in a tackling hug, looking uncharacteristically happy. “We did it!”

Fabian shook Adaine by the shoulders, and she laughed. “You can keep your club!”

Adaine looked at him curiously, dropping the celebratory grin for a moment. “I what?”

Fig broke away from the hug, looking sheepish. “Oh. About that.”

Fabian whirled towards her.

“I sort of made that up,” Fig said, tone only slightly embarrassed. “The thing about losing the club. I needed you to lock in, and seemed like you would only do that when your friends are in trouble.” She shrugged a shoulder and gestured at Adaine. “Thought you might work harder if you thought Adaine needed help.”

Adaine spun around, turning on Fig as well. “You just called me by my name. You never do that.”

Fig flushed a slightly darker red. “Did I?” She looked away. “I guess you guys are kind of growing on me.”

Adaine grinned, but didn’t push it. “We’re a triad fighting group! We just won our first tournament! This is cause for celebration, don’t you think?”

Fig bounced on her heels. “Club party!”

“My treat,” Fabian said quickly. “I’ll fund everything.”

Adaine giggled. “I can’t believe it. Our first triad fight . Our first championship. This is… incredible.” She hugged them again. “Thank you guys. So much.”

“Hey, save it for the club party—I want to see how good it is before I decide to stay.” Fig winked at them.

Fabian wrinkled his nose at the feeling of warm magic. “Was that a bardic inspiration? You couldn’t have used that during the fight , Fig?”

“Trust me, you didn’t need it.” Fig playfully punched Fabian’s shoulder. “Nice locking in, Fabian. I owe you one.”

“We’re even.” Fabian offered her a fist bump. “Good work today.”

She pumped it enthusiastically. Fabian wasn’t sure he’d seen the tiefling this happy, ever. “You too.”

- - -

Pok hovered over Fabian’s shoulder. “How’d that feel?”

After the tournament and award ceremony, Fig and Adaine had left their separate ways. Fabian had opted to walk home, but he hadn’t left yet, instead finding a seat at a balcony on the second floor of the school gymnasium that overlooked the town below. 

“It was… really good,” Fabian admitted. “I see why you and Adaine like it so much. It’s… exciting, and it wasn’t even me that was fighting.”

Pok grinned. “I’m glad. And, you know, I think you have it in you. You’re going to be so good at this, I can just tell.”

Fabian felt himself warm at the compliment. “Thank you.” He leaned forward on the balcony railing. “And thank you for your help today. That was… really, really cool. I think I definitely want to get back into battling now.”

“I’ll be with you every step of the way,” Pok promised.

Fabian smiled and felt the wind blow gently on his face as he looked out at the streets below. “I’m glad I have you.” He closed his eyes. His very first time competing, and he helped his friend win the championship, and even possibly made a new friend… things were truly better than he could imagine.

His peaceful content, unfortunately, did not last very long. 

“Fabian?”

Fabian froze, immediately going rigid when he heard a hauntingly familiar voice just behind him.

A voice he hadn’t heard in six years, and somehow, he knew exactly who it was. 

He closed his eyes, sent out a silent prayer, then stood up and turned around.

He realized he had never seen Riz in normal clothes before—if ‘normal’ could be used to describe what Riz was wearing, which was a pair of smart slacks paired with a starched shirt and vest. They made him look a lot older than Fabian knew Riz to be. He noted that a shadowy sword was holstered in his belt, as well as a gun. An honest-to-goodness fucking gun. Must run in the family , he thought, remembering the magic arquebus under his bed.

And, if he allowed himself to be honest, Riz had aged well . What Fabian had remembered to be a tiny watery-eyed boy was now a tall (by goblin standards, anyway), floppy-haired teenager with fainter freckles and long fingers and glasses and large eyes that were currently narrowed and staring right at Fabian.

“Hi, Riz,” Fabian said resignedly.

Riz walked up to him briskly, face hard set in a strange mixture of surprise, confusion, and determination. “Why didn’t you call? Did you get my note?”

Fabian rubbed his forehead. “I, uh, didn’t… didn’t know that was from you,” he lied. “I don’t know… scammers… spam… whatever… I threw the note away. I didn’t— uh… yeah. Didn’t know it was you.”

He glanced over at Pok, who at this point would usually cut in with a sarcastic comment about how un-smooth Fabian was being. Instead, he found the angel staring intently at his son. 

It had been six year since they’d seen each other. 

“I told your father to tell you my name,” Riz said slowly, eyebrows inching towards each other. 

Fabian waved a hand in the air dismissively. “My— my papa’s a forgetful man. He’s… he’s getting older.” 

Riz nodded along slowly as if he didn’t quite believe Fabian—he probably didn’t, Fabian’s deception wasn’t shit but he apparently couldn’t get his mouth to do words in front of Riz—but he didn’t press further. “I see. Well, I’ll give you my number now.”

Shit, shit, shit . “Um. Yeah. Okay. Uh, but, I don’t— I don’t have my crystal on me.”

Riz shrugged and pulled a ballpoint pen out of his pocket. “Do you have any paper?”

His mind shifted to the notebook Adaine had given him, still in his jacket pocket, still blank. “N-no.”

“Okay. Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Your hand?” Riz held up his own and beckoned Fabian towards him. “I’ll write my number on it.”

No way to get around this one. It was too bad Fabian didn’t have a hook hand like his father. Or maybe two. Just to be safe. Maybe he should get one, although this seemed like a drastic reason to get his hands chopped off. He resigned to reaching out his right hand. Riz grabbed it and quickly scrawled some numbers across Fabian’s palm. When he was done, he tapped it, and Fabian felt his claw scrape lightly across his hand.

“There.” Riz capped his pen and stuffed it back into his pocket. “Text me or something. And also… nice game today.”

He was watching. Fabian tried not to let that psych him out and shrugged in what he desperately hoped was a nonchalant manner. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Riz nodded curtly. “Well, um… yeah. See you.” He seemed to not be sure what to do with his hands, twisting one of them into a weird, awkward, salute-wave thing, before raking it through his hair and turning around, quickly striding away around the corner.

Fabian blinked and stood there for a good few moments, staring at the spot Riz where used to be. 

Pok finally spoke up, seeming to have unfrozen. “He’s… fifteen now.”

Fabian turned. Pok was slightly teary-eyed. Fabian had never seen the angel’s eyes water before.

“I’m sorry, I forgot,” Fabian said quietly. “It’s been a while since you’ve seen him too, huh?”

Pok nodded slowly, then shook his head. “It’s… fine. I’m dead. I was bound to miss him grow up. Still, I… wow.”

Fabian leaned back against the balcony railing. “He looks just like you.”

Pok smiled. “You’re a little charmer, aren’t you?” Then he jutted his chin at Fabian’s hand. “You going to call him?”

Fabian checked his hand. The numbers were a bit smudged. He could probably still make it out if he tried, but…

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Probably not.”

Pok sighed, but he came to stand next to Fabian, wings folding as he mirrored Fabian’s pose against the railing. “I won’t push you. I guess fate’ll decide when you meet him again.”

Fabian glanced at Pok and quickly amended, “I-I mean, I know he’s— he’s your son. You want to see him again. I-I guess…  I guess I could call him? Just so… you know, you can kind of… fight him through me? I guess? I don’t want to stop you from seeing your son just because I’m too much of a coward to fight him.”

“I’d never make you do that, Fabian,” Pok assured him. “It would be nice to fight Riz again, but I want you to work at your own pace, you got that?”

Fabian nodded, sighing as he turned around to lean over the edge of the balcony. “Do you think I’ll ever improve on your own?”

“I think you will. You just gotta keep trusting yourself and learning.” Pok offered Fabian a fist bump. “Good job today.”

Fabian grinned and mimed bumping him in the fist.

- - -

Mazey Phaedra, class president, was called into Professor Aguefort’s office later that day.

“Ah, Miss Phaedra!” Arthur said cheerily, welcoming her in. “Welcome, welcome. I have an assignment for you. We’re taking in a new sophomore student as a shadow in the coming week, and I’d like you to make sure he feels welcome at this school.”

Mazey furrowed her eyebrows. “This coming week, Professor? It’s spring. Shadow season was nearly six months ago.”

Arthur only grinned inscrutably. “That’s the way, my dear Miss Phaedra! Now, here’s the student’s file.”

She took it. “A sophomore, you said? Shouldn’t he have a buddy that’s his year?”

Fully ignoring her, Arthur Aguefort gestured towards the file. “Inside, you’ll find his information. I trust you more than anyone to make him feel welcome. Now, open it up! Chop, chop, my dear, we haven’t got all day.”

Mazey decided not to push further—it was usually best not to when dealing with the principal. She opened up the file and wasn’t sure whether to gasp, groan, sigh, or take out her crystal and take a picture before hurriedly texting Fabian.

“I hope,” Arthur said, eye glinting as if he knew exactly what he was doing, “you’ll treat our shadow student Riz Gukgak well.”

Mazey settled on sighing. Why was this kid everywhere ?

Chapter Text

Riz tapped his fingers against his knees anxiously, checking his crystal every few seconds as he leaned against the wall on the bench overlooking the arenas of the battle ring. He sighed in frustration as the usual No New Messages screen lit up, and he tucked it shortly into his pocket.

The receptionist—a newer hire, a younger blue tiefling named Liora—approached him, and he looked up.

“Hey, Riz,” she said, sitting down. “One of the coaches wanted to see if you wanted to do an instructional battle with him.”

Riz shook his head. “That’s okay,” he said. “I… I don’t really need that right now. Um, have you seen Fabian around recently?”

Liora shook her head, face almost pitying. “Look, I mean what I said, he hasn’t fought around here in a few years now. I’ve never seen him here before.”

“He hasn’t stopped by? At all?”

“No.” She frowned at him. “Are you sure you don’t want to fight anyone? It’s almost closing time, but you have enough time for one quick battle.”

Riz scanned the arena once more, than shook his head. “It’s… fine. I think I’ll just go now.” He leaned down to pick up his untouched weapons and the logbook he had been poring over.

As he shouldered his bag on the way out the door, he frowned deeply as he checked his crystal and found still no new messages. 

Why wasn’t he texting?

No matter. He was just going to have to find Fabian himself.

- - -

The next meeting of the Adventuring Club, Mazey dropped in after school to visit and bring news.

“ Riz shadowed at Aguefort? ” Fig asked shrilly. “Damn.”

“I didn’t know he was back in town,” Adaine said slowly. “But I guess I don’t keep up with the adventuring news that much."

Mazey shrugged. “I was surprised, too. Though I thought you’d react more strongly, Fabian.”

“I already knew he was back. I bumped into him after the tournament,” Fabian admitted. 

Adaine looked up. “Riz was at the tournament?”

“ Oh! ” Fig grabbed the desk in front of her. “I remember! I saw him watching our last fight!” She shook his head. “Bet he was staking out Aguefort’s triad team. Better tell them to watch out, Mazey, he’s going to be coming for their jobs.”

Mazey laughed. “I’ll be sure to caution them.”

“Fabian, you said Riz talked to you?” Adaine asked.

“Oh, yeah,” Fabian said sheepishly. “He, uh, gave me his crystal number.”

Fig straightened in her seat. “Ooh, spill?”

Pok chuckled from the seat next to Fabian.

Fabian couldn’t read the expressions of the girls, who had all turned to him with varying levels of curiosity, confusion, and, in Fig’s case, determined and intense fascination. He couldn’t begin to decipher what they were thinking. “Yeah. Um. He told me to call him to fight again, it’s… nothing much.”

“Did you?” asked Mazey. “Call him?”

“No, of course not.”

The girls shared a glance, which was thoroughly starting to frustrate Fabian. “What?”

Fig opened her mouth, but Adaine quickly cut over her. “I-I had something I wanted to discuss with you guys. Multiple things, actually.” She cleared her throat. “What… what would you guys think of professional adventuring?”

Fabian and Fig both perked up.

Mazey, did, too. “Oh my gods. You guys should come to Aguefort!”

“That’s kind of what I wanted to bring up,” Adaine said. “Aguefort is the best place to train adventurers and battle fighters. I was just kind of thinking if any of you guys thought you might want to pursue this further, because I think I might.” 

Fabian slowly straightened in his seat. “But… isn’t this kind of fast? We’ve only competed once.

“I know,” Adaine said slowly, “but I feel like this is kind of what I want to do in life. What am I supposed to do with the stuff we learn here if all I want to be is a wizard? If I want to adventure? At least at Aguefort, I’d get a well-rounded education to go with it.”

They were quiet for a moment, as Fig and Fabian contemplated this. Pok leaned over to Fabian and spoke up in the silence.

“You know, I think you’d be pretty good at it,” he offered. “It seems like your kind of thing, going out in the world, taking whatever comes at you. I have to admit, I can’t see you working a desk job.”

Fabian raised his eyebrows at Pok.

“Really,” he insisted. “Your fighting is far from perfect, obviously, but you’ve got the spirit of an adventurer. I’d love to see you pursue this, and I’m not just saying this from a biased position.”

Fabian thought this through for a moment, turning the idea over in his head. “Adaine,” he said out loud, “what would it be like? To transition to adventuring school?”

Mazey answered. “Actually, it’s not that bad. The system is designed to start in freshman year, but the teachers are amazing . You three would have some catching up to do, but you wouldn’t be that behind. There’s a school-wide grading tournament slash final exam in the second half of the second semester that basically serves as a shortcut to professionalism. Depending on how you and your party rank, you can graduate just from that. It’s a complicated process.”

“Huh.” Fabian fiddled with his fingers.

Fig finally spoke up. “I don’t know if I’m necessarily ready for that, but… I think I’d want to do it. Especially if it were with you all.”

Fabian looked at her curiously, and she flushed slightly.

“I’m not one to wear my heart on my sleeve,” she said quickly, avoiding his gaze, “but I’d just like to say, it’s been nice. To hang out with you guys. It’s like I actually have real friends for once.”

Fabian, Mazey, and Adaine shared a glance.

Fig waved a hand in the air dismissively as if she could dissipate the tension by waving it away. “A-anyway, um, yeah. It sounds like a cool option that maybe we could consider.”

Adaine nodded. “Cool. I’ll bring this up again later, but… another order of business—our next triad competition, which I’ve signed us up for—it’s in two weeks.”

Fig visibly tensed. “Two weeks? What day, exactly?”

“Uh…” Adaine pulled out her crystal. “The weekend?”

“Fuck.” Fig buried her face in her hands. “I have detention that day.”

Fabian turned on her. “What?”

“How do you have a detention scheduled two weeks from now?” asked Adaine incredulously.

Fig sank a little in her seat. “I, uh, kind of was messing with my teacher in class. It’s… it’s a long story, but he got me reported for inappropriate classroom behavior—”

“I don’t think I even want to know,” muttered Fabian.

“—but I managed to get my detention pushed back because of extracurriculars—really just band practice, but he doesn’t need to know that—and I don’t think he’ll let me push it back even further.” Fig drummed her fingers on her desk, frowning. “You two are going to have to find another third member.”

Adaine sighed and pulled up a chair. “Well, I was going to bring this up anyway: advertising. We should get more members to join for situations like these.” She gestured towards Fig, who only looked a little sheepish.

“Posters?” suggested Fabian. “Put them up around school, put some crystal numbers on them, y’know. You can use mine.”

Adaine nodded brightly. “I’ll design a poster. Any other ideas?”

“Start a social media account,” Mazey suggested. “That’s what we did.”

Fig slapped the table. “On it. I got you guys covered.” She sat back and started tapping on her crystal. “We could put all sorts of engagement things on it. I have so many ideas—puzzles, polls, trends—this is going to be so good.”

- - -

After school, Fabian walked home while Pok floated next to him.

“Y’know,” Fabian said, “we’ve never really talked about this, but… why are you here? Like, I know there was a crazy spell on your arquebus or something…”

“Yeah,” Pok said, frowning. “I just assumed that the spell went wrong.”

“What was it supposed to do?”

Pok shrugged. “Send a message. Curse some people. I don’t think it was supposed to preserve my soul and force me to possess a teenage boy.”

Fabian huffed a laugh at that. “But that’s exactly what I mean. Why do you think you’re here? With me? Surely I’m not the first person to touch that arquebus since you… y’know. Died.”

Pok’s frown deepened. “Huh. Strange.”

They were silent for a moment as Fabian walked, trying to come up with some kind of reasonable explanation.

“Maybe so I can see my family one last time,” Pok mused. “To spar with them, just one more time.”

Fabian raised his eyebrows. “You really care a lot about sparring them.”

“Adventuring is more than just a profession, you know. For some people, it’s their whole life.”

Fabian shook his head as he shouldered his backpack, thinking of Adaine’s bright-eyed expression when she said I feel like this is what I want to do in life . “Maybe.” He continued to walk. “Maybe it’s just fate,” he suggested. “Maybe you were supposed to come and guide me into becoming an adventurer.”

Pok smiled. “Maybe. Wouldn’t that be something.”

Fabian cracked a grin too. “Wouldn’t it?”

- - -

Fig rushed into the clubroom about a week later and slammed down her crystal. “Somebody’s been solving them.”

“What?” Adaine approached her and peered at the crystal screen.

“Somebody’s been solving the puzzles I put up!” Fig said excitedly. “I’ve been posting these battle strategy puzzles, and some anonymous account has been solving them! We’ve got to figure out who it is.”

Fabian took the crystal to examine the text, subtly showing it to Pok. “What do you think?” he asked under his breath.

Pok scanned the screen, then whistled appreciatively. “That’s solid.”

“Those are good solutions,” Adaine noted, echoing Pok’s sentiment. “Who is this?”

“I told you,” Fig said, looking a bit more dejected, “anonymous. I have no idea. I’m sure they go here, though, they have to. Why would anyone else follow a club account from our school?”

“Mazey,” Fabian pointed out.

“Well, okay, besides Mazey, obviously, don’t be stupid.” Fig shook her crystal. “We have to find them. This could be our third triad member.”

“Just because they solved a few puzzles, though?” Adaine’s tone was skeptical. “We don’t know if that means good practical application.”

“Well, what did you tell me when you were trying to get me to join?” Fig insisted. “There’s probably not a lot of people at this school who are into adventuring, so we’d better keep those we do find at hand, no?” She tapped on the profile of the commenter and waved it in their faces. “Come on. Help me figure out who this is. All they do is post every few months or so, about video games or life being boring and shit. Literally any high schooler ever. Any ideas?”

Fabian took the crystal and scrolled through the feed. The account was public, and it was mostly a few photos here and there, screenshots of video game achievements and photos of stuffed animals. Not a single selfie or name. He paused when he landed on a photo of a stuffed faerie dragon.

“They’re into stuffed animals,” he said. “Like, really into them.” He pointed to the caption. “Look. These are all collectors’ facts.”

“Collectors’ facts?” Adaine peered at the screen. “What does that mean?”

“Just basic stuff like name, fun facts, model—or in this case, animal—y’know. I used to collect model boats,” he added at the girls’ quizzical expressions. “Just ask Mazey, she’ll tell you.”

“So we offer them a collector’s edition of some stuffed animal,” Adaine said. “We put it on the poster, ask the mystery person to come to a meeting in exchange for it.” 

“The problem is getting our hands on one,” Fig mused. “They’re probably so expensive, and if this person is as avid a collector as these photos show, they probably aren’t looking for any commonplace stuff.”

“You forget,” Adaine interjected, grinning, “that we have a sugar friend.”

“Don’t call me that,” Fabian groaned. “And you’re rich, too, y’know.”

Adaine snorted in disbelief. “You think my parents would let me spend hundreds of gold pieces on a stuffed animal?”

“Fair point,” Fabian muttered. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“Awesome!” Adaine retrieved a rolled-up piece of poster paper from her bag. “And while we’re on the subject, here’s the poster so far. I’ll update it to add the stuffed animal info, but, y’know. What do you think?”

She unrolled it, and Fabian and Fig carefully scanned it. All of the club information was written neatly and clearly. The crystal number was Fabian’s, just as he’d offered.

“This is great!” Fabian examined the calligraphy. “You know calligraphy?”

“I don’t,” Adaine admitted, “I kind of magicked it.”

Fabian tsk ed. “You should’ve asked me.”

“ You know calligraphy?” asked Fig.

“Sure. Why not?”

Fig laughed. “Okay, fancy boy.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” Fig snickered quietly. “ Calligraphy .”

“What’s wrong with calligraphy?”

“Nothing’s wrong with calligraphy,” Adaine cut in. “If everything’s good with the poster, can we put it up then?”

“Fine by me.” Fig hopped out of her seat. “This sounds like a plan—buy expensive stuffed animal, bait mystery person in, bribe!”

“When you put it that way,” Adaine started, but Fig interrupted.

“When I put it that way it sounds perfect . No take-backs.” She picked up the poster and waved it around. “Come on, let’s go put this up!” 

- - -

It didn’t take long. Just two days later found Fabian, Adaine, and Fig sitting at a table facing a tiny little kobold wearing a magenta hoodie and a blue backpack, a huge metal ax strapped to her back and braces on her fangs. She just generally looked like she did not want to be there.

“So… you’re the one who’s been solving the puzzles online?” asked Fig. “I love your solutions, they’re really fucking creative.”

She shrugged with one shoulder. “It’s not that hard. Most of them can be found in adventuring textbooks and magazines and stuff.”

“Oh!” Adaine, in classic nerd behavior, perked up at textbooks . “Do you read those a lot?”

“Sure.”

“What’s your name?” Fabian quickly asked, feeling that was the first thing they should get to.

Blank yellow eyes focused on him. “Mary Ann. Mary Ann Skuttle.”

“Ah.” Fabian held out a hand for a handshake. Mary Ann stared at him a few moments before slowly shaking it. “Well, Mary Ann… are you into adventuring? Adventure battling? I feel like I haven’t seen you around a lot.”

“I keep to myself,” Mary Ann said simply. “And I like battling okay.”

“Do you do tournaments a lot?” probed Adaine.

“No.”

“Do you spar a lot, though?”

“Sometimes.”

Adaine glanced at the others for help.

Fig leaned forward conspiratorially. “So… of course we trust that you seem awesome enough to be the person we’re looking for, but just in case, could you demonstrate for us?”

“Demonstrate?” 

“You know. Do a trial run. A practice fight.” Fig gestured to her bass. “Want to battle one of us and prove yourself?”

Mary Ann didn’t answer for a moment, seemingly contemplating her choices. Then, she spoke. “You said that if I came I could have a stuffed animal?”

“Oh! Yes!” Fig nudged Fabian a bit too hard. “We have it. But first, we need to make sure you’re the right person.

Mary Ann sighed. “Fine.”

“Really?” Fig stood. “Awesome! Who’d you like to fight?”

Mary Ann scrutinized each of them for a moment, then she shrugged and looked away. “Don’t care.”

Fig turned to Fabian with a grin, mouthing I love this one . Then she turned back to Mary Ann. “I’ll fight you, then, that okay with you?”

“Whatever.”

“Sick.” Fig grabbed her bass. “Let’s do this!”

- - -

The fight was held in the school gym. Fig and Mary Ann stood across from the arena. Adaine counted down for them.

“Three… two… one!” She waved a small flag in the air. “Begin!” 

Fig didn’t even stand a chance.

The moment she stepped forward to take a swing at Mary Ann, the two feet of unbothered kobold charged forward, slamming right into Fig and sending both of them flying back into the bleachers. Fig yelped as she crashed into the metal. When the dust settled, Mary Ann had a single claw on one of Fig’s fatal zones.

Fabian whistled.

“Mary Ann wins!” Adaine called out, unnecessarily.

Mary Ann stepped away so that Fig could stand up. “Is that good?”

Fig was grinning despite having had her ass kicked. “Dude! You’re amazing!”

Mary Ann shrugged. “Can I have my squishmallow now?”

“You may absolutely have your squishmallow.” Fig glanced up at Fabian from where he was watching a few rows above her collision zone. “You have it?”

Fabian nodded and dug around in his bag before producing a stuffed almiraj. “Here.”

Mary Ann gingerly took it and turned it around in her claws. “I already have this one,” she said after a few moments of scrutiny.

Fabian’s heart sank.

She shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll give it to Toy Bank.” She shouldered the axe that she didn’t even use. “Are we good now?”

“Wait,” cut in Adaine, “We have a proposition for you. See, we’re kind of hoping to compete in triad tournaments, but the problem is that we don’t have enough members. Three is enough most of the time, but sometimes we have conflicts or family stuff or…”—she glanced at Fig—“detention.”

Fig shrugged. “Guilty.”

“So,” Adaine continued, “we were wondering if you would maybe want to join our club.”

Mary Ann stared at her unreadably. Then she fixed her eyes on Fig, then Fabian.

“Sure,” she said. 

Fig pumped her fist. “Really?”

“Yeah. Sure. When’s the tournament?”

Adaine smiled in relief. “This coming weekend. We also meet a few times a week—”

“Are those required?” interrupted Mary Ann.

Adaine shrugged. “Well, no, but…”

“Okay.” Mary Ann walked over to pick up her backpack. “Anything else?”

Fabian and Adaine exchanged a glance, before looking over at Fig, who shrugged and gave them a thumbs-up. Adaine turned back to Mary Ann. “We’re all good.”

“Okay.” Mary Ann took a gadget keychain off of her bag and began to play with it. “See you guys there.” Without looking up, she turned around and walked out of the gym.

The three of them watched her go. Fabian whistled again. “She got that dog in her.”

Adaine laughed.

Fig sighed dreamily. “She’s literally so awesome. I would die for Mary Ann right now.”

“Alright, calm down with the dying and save it for the tournament,” said Adaine, “because now we’ve got a third member. Let’s do this.”

“Isn’t dying at the tournament bad?” mused Fabian. “Like, that means you lose, right?”

“Fabian, don’t undermine my segue. I’m trying.”

“Sorry.”

- - -

Mazey sighed as she flipped through some files in her dorm room. A light knock came on her door. She glanced up, looked around at her otherwise empty room, then called, “Coming!”

She rolled over in her chair to open the door. Riz stood in the doorway.

“Oh! Hi, Riz.” She smiled. “What’s up? Got any questions?”

Riz opened his mouth, then closed it. “Um… is it okay if I ask you something not related to school?”

“Yeah, of course. What’s on your mind?”

He shifted his weight. “You’re friends with Fabian, right?”

Mazey should’ve been expecting this. She stifled a sigh. “Yeah. Fabian.” And then, because she couldn’t resist: “You have a sort of history with him, right?”

Riz nodded quickly. “Yeah. So you’ve heard.”

“So I have. So have most people, actually.”

Riz fidgeted. Mazey backed away from the doorway and gestured. “Come in.”

He obediently walked in and closed the door behind him. “Sorry to bother you,” he mumbled. “I just… wanted to know if you could tell him to please call me? I gave him my crystal number, but he won’t contact me.”

Mazey sighed. “I don’t think I could get him to if I tried. Sorry, Riz.”

“But… why?”

Mazey shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Riz looked completely bewildered, staring at his own hands in confusion.

“You don’t have to answer this, but I’m just curious,” Mazey said slowly, “but what’s up between you two? What happened? All that I know—all that anyone knows, really—is that he beat you once.”

Riz shrugged. “Yeah. He did. But it wasn’t about that. He was… crazy good. Insanely good. And his style felt… I don’t know. I felt connected to it. But I absolutely wasn’t ready. I’ve improved now, though— I really want to see what it’s like to fight him now.”

“How do you know he’ll be what you’re expecting, though?” asked Mazey cautiously.

“I…” He fidgeted with his fingers. “I don’t know. But he refuses to talk to me.”

Mazey pressed her mouth into a line. She didn’t know how much Fabian would be comfortable with her telling him. “I think,” she said slowly, “you shouldn’t get your hopes too high. He might not be exactly what you’re expecting.”

Riz shook his head. “You would know if you were there. Something about his fighting just clicked . I would give anything to feel that again.”

- - -

“Dude, that girl is strong .”

Pok looked thoughtful. “I bet she’s using some kind of magic or potion.”

Fabian raised his eyebrows. “Is that cheating?”

“Not under most tournament rules.”

“Huh.” Fabian toed at the floor as he walked down the hallway to the clubroom. According to Adaine, it was his day to clean it up, and before he could protest, she and Fig had taken off. “So… about this next tournament. Do you think I’m ready?”

“I think you’ve been working pretty hard. I’m proud of you.”

Fabian couldn’t help but grin. “Aw. Thanks.” He entered the dark classroom and flicked on the lights. “Come on. Let’s clean this place up.”

- - -

It took a couple of sources, but eventually Riz managed to track down the school Fabian went to, since Mazey avoided saying anything about it.

After school hours, he snuck in.

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was trying to do. There was a good chance Fabian wasn’t at school at all, and on top of that, he probably wasn’t going to find anything at all.

Still, he was an investigator at heart. He’d take anything he could find.

He stopped in his tracks when he passed a bulletin board covered in club posters, his eye catching on one in particular that advertised an Adventuring Club. His heart rate quickened when he saw the crystal number.

For more information, call: XXX-XXX-XXXX

There was no way Fabian wasn’t in the Adventuring Club. If he was lucky, he could call this number, get some information on the club, maybe even ask to get transferred to one of their members. He pulled out his crystal and began to dial as he walked down the path past the classrooms.

- - -

Fabian sighed out a breath as he closed the curtains. “Okay. Done with wiping down the tables. Think we can call it a day.” He glanced at Pok. “Wish you could help me.”

“Oh, no, what a shame,” Pok quipped.

Fabian shut the cleaning supplies in a cupboard and was about to reply when his crystal began to buzz in his pocket. Curious, he took it out. The caller ID was anonymous. He picked up the call. “Hello?”

There was silence on the other end for a moment. Then—

“Fabian?”

Fabian blinked. “Yeah? That’s me?”

“Oh my gods.” The voice on the other end laughed incredulously. “It’s actually you. Where are you?”

Fabian frowned at the crystal. “Who is this?”

“ Where are you ?”

Fabian perked up when he seemed to hear the voice both on the phone and in person. He moved the phone away and looked around before slowly walking towards the curtain. His heart pounded in his ears as he reached for the fabric and pulled it open.

Riz, on the other side of the window, jumped, then lowered his crystal. Fabian made to open the window.

“Riz,” he said, hanging up on the crystal once the window was open, “What are you doing here?”

“Fabian. Hi.” Riz blinked quickly, then shook his head. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“I— lost your number.”

“I wrote it on your hand.”

“It smudged.”

“Don’t lie,” sighed Pok, “you wouldn’t have called him even if you could.”

Fabian clicked his tongue and shot him a glare. 

“My bad. I’ll leave you alone.” Pok grinned and disappeared.

Fabian rolled his eyes before turning back.

“Well… why didn’t you look for me at the battle ring?” Riz demanded.

“I’ve…. been busy.” It was only a half-lie. “I have— exams, and shit, and…”

“But I was waiting for you.”

Fabian paused. “You were…”

“I was waiting for you,” Riz said quietly. “Every day. I’ve fought a lot of people since I was gone, you know. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you, what you would do. I’ve been waiting to fight you again.”

Fabian puffed out a breath as he raked his hand through his hair. “Look, Riz, I… I can’t fight you.”

“What?” Riz’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“I– I don’t have the time, I’m– I’m a busy man.” He laughed nervously and reached for the window to shut it. “Don’t look for me again, just… just go.” 

Riz opened his mouth to speak, still looking bewildered, but Fabian shut the window and pulled the curtain back over it before he could reply. He whirled around and banged the back against the wall, sighing.

Pok reappeared. “Well. That was something.”

“I don’t want him to be disappointed,” Fabian said quietly. “I don’t know. I just feel like… I’m absolutely not ready. And he’s going to be fucking disappointed.”

Pok sighed. “Hey, kid. You know what we do? We practice. We get better. We learn and we grow. You’ll be ready eventually.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Fabian tapped his fingers against the floor, sighing. “I hope you’re right.”

- - -

Riz stared at the closed curtains in front of him. 

“Why won’t you fight me?” he wondered out loud, even though he knew Fabian couldn’t hear him anymore. 

He stood there for a few more moments, then shook his head. Fine. If Fabian wouldn’t fight him on his own time, he’d find some other way.

He picked up his phone and dialed a different number. If he was going to do this, he was going to do this right.