Terha is crying, which is always a good sign. It means things are about to get serious. Whenever Hari cries, their maternal caretaker pats him on the back or, even worse, instructs foul Adora to placate his howls. More and more it’s been the latter. Their infernal parental unit appears to have grown desensitized to Hari’s cries, which is terribly unfair.

Terha, on the other hand, has learned to weaponize her tears to the best effect. Hari’s stoney-faced sister is convinced that the only appropriate reason to show tears, or emotion in general, is when attempting to win something from someone. Personally, Hari disagrees. If people don’t know how you feel all the time, how are they supposed to cater to your every whim? This is a source of disagreement between the twins, but sometimes even Hari has to admit, Terha knows when to pull out the big guns.

Such as today. Today is the first day of school, and the twins do not want to go.

“Oh, Terha! Terha Terha Terha.” Their ‘father’ steps in and crouches next to her. She’s dressed in the most boring garment she could have possibly picked out of Adora’s hand-me-downs: a stiff grey frock with none of Adora’s stupid flower necklaces to even give it the slightest bit of character. Somehow, despite being six, Terha already looks older than both their birth parents. “It’s just school! We all go to school.”

“I hate them.” Terha’s lip quivers as she crosses her arms tightly. “I hate them all!”

Father looks at her, brow forming a concerned arc over his forehead. “Who?”

“The students. The children. They don’t understand us and they’ll make fun.” Her eyes continue to swim with tears, even though her sobs have calmed significantly since someone actually started paying attention to her. “Don’t make me go, papa. My tummy hurts just thinking of it.”

He falls for it, hook, line, and sinker. “You’re going to have to go eventually,” he says, his resolve all but gone in the face of his baby daughter’s tears. “Are you really that scared?”

“I am, papa.” Terha flings her arms around his shoulders, her tiny hands gripping his shirt.

“Hmm…”

He trails off, and for a moment, Hari dares to hope. He dares to hope that this foolish man, cursed with siring the blight of the Region, will do the right thing, abandon his fruitless attempts at morality, replant the entire family in some remote cave, and dedicate his life to being Hari’s personal slave.

“Alright then. You can stay home today.” Then, in an act of betrayal that Hari will never forget his entire life, the infernal man turns to his only son. “Hari, you can go to school with Adora. Meet some of the kids, make a friend or two.” His smile, a revolting stretch of the lips trying far too hard, makes Hari sick. “Show Terha how it’s done; that there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Father!” Hari’s voice breaks in outrage. “I hate the other kids too! I do!”

But Adora has already taken his hand in that nasty, vice-like grip and began towing him towards the door. He trips on his own trousers—which are too long but were too pretty to pass by—and stumbles. He would have fallen were it not for Adora grabbing him by the shoulders.

“Your pants are too long,” she informs him, and his cheeks flame red.

“They didn’t have the yellow ones in a smaller size, Adora.” He’s bristling with rage as Adora just shakes her head. Behind her, he looks to see Terha sitting at the kitchen table while their cursed father prepares her some of her favorite turtle soup. She’s idly watching some bugs flit around the window, tears a distant memory, when she catches Hari staring. He sticks his tongue out at her, the ultimate sign of hurt.

A smile crosses her face.

~~~

“That wasn’t the last time she betrayed me.” Hari’s voice was way too offended for the story he just told. “But you know what they say about first cuts. What?”

Darkos couldn’t help giving a heavy sigh. Technically he’d gotten what he’d asked for. He’d been trying to fish for something that he could use to determine a weakness of Hari’s. Perhaps an old wound, physical or, more likely, emotional, that he could press at. Something that he could use to really bother Hari or even escape.

So Darkos had asked his brother to tell him about the first time someone close to him had betrayed him. The worst thing was, Hari was being honest here. He had to be, per the rules of the game. Hari’s first betrayal was Terha using her tears to convince their dad to only send Hari to school.

In a sense, it had been an amusing story, and Darkos had forced down a smile the whole time. It had reminded him uncannily of his first day at school, where he’d tearfully begged Mom to let him stay home. Unlike the soft-hearted Bella parents, Mom had simply shoved an extra sandwich in his bag and told him to make an extra friend before booting him out of their little stone home.

An unexpected pang twisted in his stomach at this thought. Darkos had a lot of unresolved tension with his parents over them hiding his true nature for so long, but he also just missed them. Adventuring was fun but Darkos had been on the road for years, never truly calling any one place home since he set out at eighteen on his first quest. Never in a million years would he have thought that he’d end up here, the prisoner of his void spawn sibling, while the world’s most dastardly evildoer chased them down to free him.

Allegedly. Darkos had no doubts as to whether Geela would actually come after him, but he didn’t really know what had gone down in the mortal realm.

“Does Terha, like, send you psychic updates or anythings?” Darkos asked as the two trundled on.

“Psychic updates?” Hari gave Darkos the most sardonic eyebrow raise possible. “We aren’t psychics, dear brother. Were you under the illusion we were? Do you even know how psionic magic works?”

Darkos smarted at this a bit. He did, in fact. At least, a little bit. “Well, I don’t know if there’s an exception for void monsters.”

Hari’s eyebrow did not let up for a second. “Do you have psychic powers?”

“No.”

“Mmm. Maybe you weren’t such a loss after all.”

Darkos wanted to say something like ‘hey, only Geela’s allowed to talk to me like that,’ but he refrained because Hari would literally never let him live that down. But he thought it and he thought it loudly and if either of them had been even slightly psychically active, Hari would definitely have heard it. Fortunately, this wasn’t the case, and Darkos’s stupid grumble was kept in his head.

“So you have no idea what’s going on in the mortal realm?” Darkos asked, pushing aside the flub.

“Oh you mean on the boats?” Hari scoffed. “Not in the slightest. But the fact that she hasn’t shown up bodes well for me. Their little fight would have ended shortly after we arrived. Unless she spent days celebrating, she probably would have made it to the castle before we even started sharing our stories. She’d have caught up with us already if she’d managed to pull a victory.”

Darkos processed this for a moment. They hadn’t been in the Void Realm for that long. A couple hours maybe. Even if Geela’s fight with Terha had ended the moment he activated the Lull of Void Slumber, she’d still have to sail to shore and hoof it all the way to the castle. She was good, but she was still beholden to time. Darkos briefly had a flashback to the Volcanic Region, where clocks and calendars didn’t exist and time was made up.

But Hari was an islander, not a volcanion. He must have known that planes and temporal magic were not in her . No, Hari must have phrased his statement intentionally, to confuse Darkos and beg the question. Darkos hated begging but he hated not knowing things more.

“It’s barely been than a few hours,” he said, voice a grumble as he waited for the insult. “Geela was much further away.”

“Oh my poor, silly, ignorant—”

“Hari! Are you going to do this every time I admit to not knowing something about the void?” Darkos’s explosion surprised himself for a second, but he plowed right on. “I didn’t even know the void realm was a thing before I met Geela. I didn’t know that Noire—Noirela— existed before I accidentally wrote its name down and I definitely didn’t know it had kids until we started killing them. How in the twelve realms would I know anything about how any of this works?”

“You didn’t ask Geela?” Hari looked over his shoulder at Darkos. “And judging by your expression, she never thought to tell you. I suppose you were just a minion but I’m a little surprised she didn’t tell you anything.”

Darkos’s blood boiled at this. Geela had told him a lot. A lot lot. More than he could ever remember. She was the best teacher he’d ever had—a low bar, given his prior teachers had all been Noire cultists, but she’d still been damn good. She’d taken him in under her wing and taught him so much more than just magic. She taught him how to lie. She taught him how to win over the respect of a crew. She taught him how to spot the difference between a peasant and a noble pretending to be one. She taught him how to manage a minion. She taught him strategy and scheming and tactics. So what if she hadn’t taught him that the void realm was made up of tunnels?

Of course, none of that came out of Darkos’s mouth. What he said instead was: “I’m not her minion. I’m her first mate.”

And to make it worse, his voice shook just the tiniest bit. The average person wouldn’t have even noticed. Hari just happened to be not the average person.

“Have I touched on a nerve, brother? I haven’t even asked for your payment for my story yet, and here you are, crying already.” Hari looked back ahead down the tunnel. “Had Noirela reached you at a young enough age, you’d be able to stomach the slightest insult a bit better.”

“You just finished telling me a story about how you sobbed through your entire first day of school,” Darkos said, the tremor in his voice well under control now.

Hari didn’t respond to this.

“Are you going to explain to me why only a few hours have passed here but somehow a whole lot more have passed on the mortal realm?” Darkos pinched the bridge of his nose. “I mean, at this point, I’m going to guess it’s because time moves differently in different realms. So a day there here and only half a day passes here or something.”

“Close. You’re off by quite a bit on your math, however. Yes, about three hours have passed here, meaning nearly twenty-seven hours have passed back there.”

Darkos’s mental math was quick as lightning, and his heart sank as it reported back a disheartening number. “It’s a factor of nine?”

“Mhm!” Hari’s voice was unbearable now. “So if our dear friend Geela did manage to defeat Terha and make it to you in, say, twelve hours? Assuming she walks to the castle? Means she’d have made it in here a scant hour and a half after we did. She really should’ve been able to catch us by now. Assuming, that is, that she survived Terha.”

Darkos’s gut said Geela would be okay but he knew that void spawns were nothing to shake a coconut at. Terha wouldn’t have been an easy foe.

So he deflected best he could. “Technically, would be an hour twenty, not an hour thirty.” Then, before Hari could respond, “Why do you call her Geela now? She was Ja’Eel on the boat but now it’s Geela?”

“Ah ah, enough questions.” Hari stopped suddenly. “We’re stopping here for the night. Set up camp.” He snapped twice. “Then we’ll get on with the game. And it’s my turn to ask the questions, now.”

“Set up camp?” Darkos looked around at the patch of empty tunnel they’d stopped in. “Stop for the night?” Then he braced himself for more condescending lectures from Hari.

Fortunately, Hari was either getting tired of lording his wisdom over Darkos or he was too impatient to have his own questions answered. “Night, of course, being a relative term here, since we don’t have a sun to revolve around.”

This made Darkos’s head hurt a tiny bit as he realized just how big this mass of tunnels must be. He always compared the world they lived on in the mortal realm to the void realm, but it was only now that he realized that the void realm was comparable to the entire expanse of space the mortal realm occupied, including all the stars and the planets they each owned. It also made him a little queasy, just contemplating how powerful Noire must be to run it all. Darkos shook his head hard and shoved that all from his mind though. Wasn’t the time to be thinking about stars and void fiends.

“We need rest for the same reason any sentient creature needs rest,” Hari continued. Again, there were more questions to be pulled at here. Darkos didn’t even really know why creatures needed rest. When you really think about it, sleep was kinda a weird concept. Darkos shook his head again, clearing the thoughts. Maybe he’d ask Geela for some books on other realms or sleep or something when they got home. He could retire from adventuring for a bit, and just relax, read a book or something.

“Don’t shake your head at me,” Hari said. “It’s true. Even beings as powerful as us need sleep. Only patron-level entities are potentially exempt from that.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, huh indeed. Now—” Hari snapped again. “Set up camp.”

This time, Darkos saw what Hari was pointing at. He’d summoned a spectral tent, disassembled in a pile on the ground. Clearly, he expected Darkos to build the tent, and much to his own annoyance, Darkos did. He was simply too exhausted to keep fighting Hari on this, and given Darkos was the captive here, Hari would win this one. Besides, Darkos was finding that Hari had indeed been correct about them needing sleep. He hadn’t realized it until he’d started wrestling with the gossamer fabric of the tent, but he was plum tired.

The tent was entirely cosmetic as well. The walls were a floaty, lace-like material, as pretty as they were useless, and the little fire Hari had instructed Darkos to light simply flickered merrily, producing no heat and very little actual light.

Hari settled down in the tent after Darkos had finished, an almost peaceful look on his face.

“I haven’t been camping in years,” he said, inhaling deeply. “It takes quite a bit of effort to ensure a camping trip in the mortal realm has all the rustic touches of an actual trip with none of the unpleasant discomforts.”

“Geela managed pretty well,” Darkos said, rolling out their sleeping mats. “She even managed while pretending to be a poor peasant girl.”

“Well, not all of us can be Geela.” Hari reclined on his newly set up bedroll and shot Darkos a nasty glare. “Anyway, I’ve heard enough from you. It’s time to pay up.”

Darkos paused, midway through unrolling his own, rather lumpy sleeping arrangement. “Wait. You’ve heard enough from me or you want to hear more from me.” He ducked as Hari’s hat soared through the air at his head.

“Tell me about when you first met Geela.”

This took Darkos aback a bit, given he was expecting more of a question about his childhood, something that might give Hari insight as to why Darkos had stayed good. Still, Darkos wasn’t going to question Hari’s logic. If he wanted to waste a question on this, he was welcome to.

“Alright,” Darkos said, settling down on his definitely-intentionally-uncomfortable bed. “It was my sixth pilgrimage.”

~~~

Ja’Eel Scilatia has many estates spanning many regions, but the one on the border of the Plains Region and the First Mountainous Region is the most notorious. At least, it has been since Darkos can remember. He learned about Ja’Eel on his first pilgrimage over ten years ago, when he’d first set out from Sunnyville, an enthusiastic priest of eighteen. Two old women had been talking in low voices about how Ja’Eel’s forces had been marching on the Lords of the Mountains in demand of tribute. Darkos had initially asked for more information, thinking that maybe this was where he tested his mettle. But eighteen-year-old Darkos had been cowed by the horror stories the two women had told, and he put it out of his mind for a decade.

But time had caught up with him. Throughout the following four pilgrimages, a nagging thought tickled the back of his brain. A thought that said ‘You were meant to defeat Ja’Eel.’

So now he walks into the inn at the mouth of her territory, prepared to make his mark on the world.

The inn’s tavern has seen better days. Darkos orders a scant meal from the barkeeper, who explains that, ever since Ja’Eel made this castle her full-time residence, there wasn’t much for clientele.

Darkos can see this pretty well. The only people there are an older couple, silently staring at the fire, a youth peddling roasted rats, and a young woman, sobbing into a mug.

As any adventurer ought to, Darkos starts off his interviews of the patrons with the beautiful young woman. She introduces herself, through a mouthful of ale, as Geela. The poor thing is inconsolable at first, wailing about hurt and betrayal and the devastation of her entire life. Darkos can’t make out much of her story, but after a few more probing questions, she clams up almost entirely.

So Darkos explains that he’s planning on making it to Ja’Eel’s castle and slaying her. The young woman laughs mirthlessly at this, telling him he’d have better luck cutting down a twenty-foot troll than taking her down. Darkos, very seriously, informs Geela that he’s taken down a twenty-five-foot troll. He then goes on to explain that he’s on a quest from his God, which is less true than he thinks, and that he’s got nothing to lose.

Now suddenly she’s interested and begins asking more questions about his past pilgrimages. What monsters has he defeated? Does he have any experiences with hydras? Krakens? Oh, no specific reason, just asking, thank you very much.

Darkos isn’t exactly sure why, but the conversation seems to be working, as slowly the woman’s eyes dry.

“I’ve had my own experiences with that terrible, nightmarish, devastatingly powerful sorceress myself,” Geela says, finally. “She killed my poor, dear uncle, the only family figure I had left in the region.” Her eyes swell with tears again. “I have made it my life’s goal now to strike her down, but I fear I’ll never make it alone to her castle.”

Darkos nods, very solemn. “I fully expect this journey to be treacherous. I’m hoping to spend a few weeks learning more about her, her lands, what might be guarding her castle, before setting off. Might you know where I could find such information?”

At this, the woman’s green eyes sparkle, excited instead of sad for the first time. “I can do you one better. I’ve already spent some amount of time gathering the very information you seek. If you let me accompany you, help you put an end to her evil, I will make myself useful. I swear on the soul of my slain father.”

“She killed your father too?” Darkos asks, heart aching for the woman.

She blinks twice, before her smile returns. “Uncle. I apologize. I’ve been so fatigued gathering this information I’ve forgotten my own story. History. Past.” Her smile grows a tad fixed, but Darkos doesn’t pay it much mind.

“It’ll be dangerous,” he warns. “I’m a healer so I can keep us both fairly safe, but I can’t make any promises about our success.”

“We have to try.” Her eyes flash determinedly. “I won’t rest until I make it to that castle and enact my revenge.”

She then stands from the table, wobbles a bit, takes a step, and trips to the floor. Darkos brushes it off as just the alcohol, unaware that he would spend the next several years saving this woman from her own clumsiness.

Then again, if he’d known a fraction of all the stuff he was about to spend the next several years doing, he’d have grabbed a pint of ale and joined her on the floor right then and there.

~~~

“Great crow, you’re stupid.”

“Do you ever have something nice to say?” Darkos asked as he rolled over.

“No. I’m evil. Evil all the way down. Kind of like how you’re stupid all the way down.”

“I’m done talking to you,” Darkos said.

“Seriously, though. Did you never consider that Geela was diminutive of Ja’Eel? Did it not concern you that she immediately lost track of her own lie?”

Darkos raised a hand in the air before dramatically sticking it in his own ear.

“Darkos—”

But Darkos was now humming just loud enough to drown out Hari’s voice. The void spawn tried a couple more times, but Darkos had fulfilled his end of the bargain and was ready for sleep.

After another few attempts at getting Darkos to say more, Hari let out a trail of truly offensive swears and flopped onto his own bed. After another minute, the campfire outside dimmed to a point where the tunnels around them could almost look like the midnight sky. Darkos closed his eyes and pulled his ratty blanket over him, pretending for a few minutes that he had just set off with Geela on a quest that, unbeknownst to both of them, would turn out to be life-changing.